If you don't hear from me again, it's because the Mormons have killed us.
On a brighter note, we had a lovely day in Denver yesterday, and survived the drive to Salt Lake today. Denver is stunning and nice and has at least one great restaurant, where Phil's old school chum Lisa took us. She also led us to a great gelato place afterward, and then nearly killed us by chatting and strolling down the street to where we'd parked when the temperature had fallen to something in the negative numbers. I hadn't forgotten how quickly temps plummet in mountain regions, but I haven't experienced it in awhile and so it still shocked me. It was COLD last night in Denver-- although, having survived Chicago's incredibly Arctic January, with negative double-digit wind chills as a regular feature for weeks on end, I must say that nothing we've hit on this trip even seems extreme. Sure, we were completely cut off and snowblind in North Platte, but the hike across the frozen highway to the truck stop in the 50 mph winds barely seemed chilly by comparison to last month.
It's amazing how the country changes. Nebraska looked a lot like Iowa (well, when it was up and running-- when it was snowed in, it just looked frozen, sort of like an old freezer when you haven't defrosted it for six months). But as soon as we crossed the Colorado border, we were in a different place. No more Midwestern farmlands-- we were suddenly, indisputably in the West, in spite of the fact that we were still closer (slightly) to Chicago than to San Francisco. The land got bigger and emptier, there were no more neat, circumscribed fields, the lumpy hills to either side of us sprouted scrubby grass and even the occasional tumbleweed, and the scattered buildings looked purposeful and unconcerned with appearances-- all right, they looked pretty seedy, a lot of them. But workmanlike, and as if it hadn't occurred to anyone that they should be made cute, or charming, or, god help us, picturesque. That's something all those farmlands seemed very concerned about.
A little while after crossing into Colorado and the frontier, we crested a little rise and I could see the Rockies in the distance. There are few things to make me as happy as the sight of mountains in the distance. Well, mountains close up will do it, but in the distance will do, and after these last months in one of the flattest places on earth, and nearly a decade before that in a place where there is absolutely no feature to be found that isn't human sized, and probably actually man-made, the sight of a blue, hazy, jagged horizon standing out from the clouds was like tonic. I would have swooned, but I was still driving.
Now we've moved on yet farther, crossed the Continental Divide, survived the 6% grades into and out of Park City (completely insane, particularly in the dark, with lots of traffic, and, oh yeah, driving a 3 million lb truck full of everything we own, except the chairs), and rolled into this weird city, which I find politically disturbing but physically quite stunning. We, unfortunately, are staying in an area that's not stunning at all. It's downright ugly, and the room with the king size bed they'd reserved for us has sprung some kind of leak, so that we've got two doubles instead. Oh, goody. Last night we had this same arrangement and nearly hurled each other onto the floor with every shift and snore. But oh well-- the pizza place that advertises on the hotel keys delivered, and the delivery boy even helped me catch an escaping cat, for which I tipped him an extra dollar. And he didn't even try to convert me! (I should have tipped him more for that, probably.) Tomorrow, the Weather Channel says, SLC is in for sleet from 7 to 10, and then snow till a week from Thursday. Well, not quite, but it might as well be. We're debating whether or not we really want to get up before dawn to get out of here before the storm has time to get settled in. The getting out early doesn't sound bad, but a 500+ mile drive on very little sleep sounds hideous, particularly considering the Terror Cats, who have taken to staging catfights and breaking into their kitty treats underneath my seat while I'm driving. Now that they're no longer terrified by the truck, they've become complete terrorists. Furry, conniving, lazy little terrorists who are bent on tormenting me. I can't imagine parenthood would be a lot more work than this.
Below, you'll find some pictures, both of the furry lovelies and some other notable subjects. There's one of the cats looking remarkably peaceful and quiet, strewn across the seat in Bob the Truck; there's one of our beloved home in North Platte, the LaQuinta Inn where we spent so many happy hours (actually, they were, and it was the nicest place we've stayed this trip); the Pump 'n Pantry facing the LaQuinta Inn in North Platte, where we bonded meaningfully with Bubba, or Duggie, or whatever the hell that frat boy's name might have been; and there's one from our Denver hotel room, where Phil thought he'd keep the cats off the top half of the bed (so he wouldn't be asphyxiated by their fur in his sleep) by piling a bunch of stuff all over the pillows. You can see how well that worked.
And that's enough for the moment. Some of you will be seeing me very shortly, I hope. Otherwise.... stay tuned. The light of California is beginning to glimmer at the end of our long, ridiculously twisty tunnel.
Tallyho!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Tales From the Road (Part I)
Howdy, all--
The Trip West has hit a snag, after starting out horribly on Thursday and then cruising through all the excitement of Iowa yesterday. What's happened is, we're snowed in, in North Platte, NE. Whoopee. But before you start feeling too sorry for us, let me tell you that we're exhausted, beat up, and ready for a snow day, and this is a fine place to have one. Actually, the LaQuinta Inn here is particularly nice, including even a refrigerator and microwave, and across the street there's a convenience store run by the world's ultimate example of redneck frat boys (he was very excited when I walked in and went straight to the beer case, but less impressed when I chose Fosters), which promises frozen chicken nuggets for later, unless they've all been bought by the Nebraskans quickly filling up this hotel, in which case we'll be left with cheap burritos and hot dogs that will probably be reduced to charcoal on their little rolling grill by then. But we have access to a hot tub, gym, and business center, not to mention high speed Internet access in our room, and lots of cable channels. Even the cats seem satisfied.
So far, this trip has ranged from dire to passable, so today may actually be the first improvement. We have the World's Largest Truck, which I've named Bob, and which towers over the pavement (there are actually two steps to get up to the cab, and a sort of ladder arrangement for the back), and also a trailer hanging off the back of Phil's car, because, shocking as it may seem we actually have too much stuff to fit into Bob's 26 feet of free space. Yes, kids, the Romanoffs & Louis XIV together (or whatever wildly self-indulgent and materialist historical figure you'd like to come up with) would be proud of us, or possibly frightened, and in the middle of loading, we suddenly had to get a hitch installed on Phil's Honda, rent a trailer, and load it up with one leftover bookcase, an antique sideboard, and all our chairs. We may be stranded, but we'll always have a place to sit. In fact, we could serve dinner for twelve out in the corn fields, if only we could remember where we packed the tablecloth.
You will probably all, at some point, here the great sad saga of our last couple hours in Chicago, after both Bob and the car were packed, after Phil had dashed out to the cable company to return the boxes, after we'd swept and collected cats, and after I spent ten minutes completely breaking down and crying on our staircase. Oy, that was a fun moment. And things only got more exciting, as I scraped a parked car getting out of our driveway, infuriated half a dozen cabs by blocking Roscoe for twenty minutes (hard to care about that one), and then began learning the great new exciting skill of maneuvering something the size of a small ocean liner through city streets and at left turn lanes. Things got better yesterday, aided more than a little bit by the fact that LaQuinta, as a chain, seems to have very comfortable beds, and also serves excruciatingly carb-laden breakfasts every morning. Biscuits and gravy and make-your-own waffles are just the beginning. Oh-- and hideous coffee. Apparently the whole midwest is still in the grip of Folgers. I brought my own, but of course it's packed somewhere, god knows where, in the trunk or truck or trailer, bouncing about among the dozen chairs. But in any case, that first night on the road was good enough to get us going in better moods yesterday, which was good as the trip lasted nearly twelve hours and included way too much fast food and very unhappy cats.
Assuming that the rumors are true and the winds and snow are letting up tomorrow, we'll have a short day into Denver (260 miles or so) where we'll see a friend of Phil's and then maybe even watch the Oscars, and then two long days, one into Salt Lake City and the next all the way across Nevada into Reno. Those are both more than 500 miles, which means at least ten hours in these vehicles, but with a chance to rest and recuperate, we don't expect a problem. And the scenery should be beautiful, which is a lot more than you can say for Iowa. I've had just about enough farmland, thank you.
Meanwhile, I'm spending the day rewriting my resume and applying to jobs out West, and Phil's found us a storage space. Bob can breathe easier, there's a resting place for all those boxes.
P.S. If we can figure out where the camera is, I'll send along some pictures of our lounging cats, our aircraft carrier-sized vehicles, and the complete white out that is our parking lot. Mmmmmmmm-- aren't you excited?!
The Trip West has hit a snag, after starting out horribly on Thursday and then cruising through all the excitement of Iowa yesterday. What's happened is, we're snowed in, in North Platte, NE. Whoopee. But before you start feeling too sorry for us, let me tell you that we're exhausted, beat up, and ready for a snow day, and this is a fine place to have one. Actually, the LaQuinta Inn here is particularly nice, including even a refrigerator and microwave, and across the street there's a convenience store run by the world's ultimate example of redneck frat boys (he was very excited when I walked in and went straight to the beer case, but less impressed when I chose Fosters), which promises frozen chicken nuggets for later, unless they've all been bought by the Nebraskans quickly filling up this hotel, in which case we'll be left with cheap burritos and hot dogs that will probably be reduced to charcoal on their little rolling grill by then. But we have access to a hot tub, gym, and business center, not to mention high speed Internet access in our room, and lots of cable channels. Even the cats seem satisfied.
So far, this trip has ranged from dire to passable, so today may actually be the first improvement. We have the World's Largest Truck, which I've named Bob, and which towers over the pavement (there are actually two steps to get up to the cab, and a sort of ladder arrangement for the back), and also a trailer hanging off the back of Phil's car, because, shocking as it may seem we actually have too much stuff to fit into Bob's 26 feet of free space. Yes, kids, the Romanoffs & Louis XIV together (or whatever wildly self-indulgent and materialist historical figure you'd like to come up with) would be proud of us, or possibly frightened, and in the middle of loading, we suddenly had to get a hitch installed on Phil's Honda, rent a trailer, and load it up with one leftover bookcase, an antique sideboard, and all our chairs. We may be stranded, but we'll always have a place to sit. In fact, we could serve dinner for twelve out in the corn fields, if only we could remember where we packed the tablecloth.
You will probably all, at some point, here the great sad saga of our last couple hours in Chicago, after both Bob and the car were packed, after Phil had dashed out to the cable company to return the boxes, after we'd swept and collected cats, and after I spent ten minutes completely breaking down and crying on our staircase. Oy, that was a fun moment. And things only got more exciting, as I scraped a parked car getting out of our driveway, infuriated half a dozen cabs by blocking Roscoe for twenty minutes (hard to care about that one), and then began learning the great new exciting skill of maneuvering something the size of a small ocean liner through city streets and at left turn lanes. Things got better yesterday, aided more than a little bit by the fact that LaQuinta, as a chain, seems to have very comfortable beds, and also serves excruciatingly carb-laden breakfasts every morning. Biscuits and gravy and make-your-own waffles are just the beginning. Oh-- and hideous coffee. Apparently the whole midwest is still in the grip of Folgers. I brought my own, but of course it's packed somewhere, god knows where, in the trunk or truck or trailer, bouncing about among the dozen chairs. But in any case, that first night on the road was good enough to get us going in better moods yesterday, which was good as the trip lasted nearly twelve hours and included way too much fast food and very unhappy cats.
Assuming that the rumors are true and the winds and snow are letting up tomorrow, we'll have a short day into Denver (260 miles or so) where we'll see a friend of Phil's and then maybe even watch the Oscars, and then two long days, one into Salt Lake City and the next all the way across Nevada into Reno. Those are both more than 500 miles, which means at least ten hours in these vehicles, but with a chance to rest and recuperate, we don't expect a problem. And the scenery should be beautiful, which is a lot more than you can say for Iowa. I've had just about enough farmland, thank you.
Meanwhile, I'm spending the day rewriting my resume and applying to jobs out West, and Phil's found us a storage space. Bob can breathe easier, there's a resting place for all those boxes.
P.S. If we can figure out where the camera is, I'll send along some pictures of our lounging cats, our aircraft carrier-sized vehicles, and the complete white out that is our parking lot. Mmmmmmmm-- aren't you excited?!
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