Tonight we are staying in a suite at the Super 8.
Who knew that Super 8 Motels had suites? What a world. It was the only room left in the Inn, and a bargain at that, considering that Williamsburg is celebrating their sesquicentennial this weekend. It's pretty much your average Super 8/Motel 6/Econo Lodge kind of room, only bigger. Much bigger. We have to leave bread crumbs when we go down the hall to the bathroom.
We left Simon at the hotel to watch the end of Forrest Gump, and headed north a few miles to the Amana Colonies, a fine historic tribute to neat and tidy German settlers. It looked like a movie set. Actually, most of what we have seen so far of Iowa looks like a movie set. Lawns mowed so tightly you could bounce a quarter off them, flower-beds arranged alphabetically, that kind of thing.
Anyhow, dinner was great. Family-style dining at the Colony Inn, where Paul and Judi Lynn ate over 20 years ago. All you can eat of fresh local green beans, house-made cottage cheese, fried potatoes and gravy, pickled cabbage (but it was sweet kraut, not sour), salad, the works. Oh, and peach pie.
Tomorrow, it should be a quick 5-hour jaunt up Hwy 151, through Dubuque and Madison, to Mom and Dad's place. Tonight, we're just hoping no one gets lost on the way back from the toilet in the middle of the night.
Day 15: Springfield, MO/Amana, IA
Day 13: Danville, AR/Springfield, MO
Well, Simon has lost his innocence.
No, our dog didn't get laid -- that's not really in the cards, as he's missing some key equipment. Though the breeder did "collect a specimen" from him before he was fixed, I doubt that carries the same thrill.
After three years of working himself into a frenzy over the multitude of squirrels that tease him from just outside his reach, he finally caught up with one. Yes, our pup has tasted blood. So far, he does not show any signs of transforming into a ravenous, murdering beast, but he does seem to be a little more perky than usual when he spots something small, furry, and mobile.
The sacrifice happened at a deserted playground, and Simon was startled, then amazed, then very proud. He shook it a lot. Paul had to wash small, bloody, squirrel head prints off of Simon's head and neck. Two hours later as we were ready to head out, he bolted from the car to retrieve his trophy from the ditch down the road, ran a 20-second victory lap around the block, and brought Sparky up to the house to show to everyone.
Don't worry, we didn't think to get a picture.
On the way to Springfield we stopped in Fayetteville to check out a potential site for next year's Hawkins family reunion. It's a Methodist camp of some sort with many cabins named for southern states (can you call it a cabin if it's made of brick?), bunk-filled dormitories, meeting halls, shade trees, and hymnals. I think we'll be safe there from Jason and his hockey mask.
Oh, and I know that many of you have been laying awake at night wondering what ever happened to Yakoff "What a Country!" Smirnoff... Well, rest easy. He is alive and well and performing in Branson, MO. It's a Southern version of Las Vegas without the gambling. Come back Yakoff, we miss you!
Today's award for the best billboard goes to God, who is evidently taken to direct advertising along with the competition (see Day 5). We don't have a picture of this one, so you'll have to use your imagination. Picture a typical beer ad, featuring a scantily clad, busty woman holding up a can of Bud Lite. Now replace the scantily clad, busty woman with a wise-but-caring man with a long white beard. Kind of like Santa, but with longer hair. Now, replace the can of beer with a can of God. Now add the slogan: "God Can!"
What a country!
A man and his mower
Day 12: Danville, AR
Ah, it's been so good to spend some time again in Arkansas with Paul's folks. (And I'm not just saying that because I know you're reading this, Sara.) I am so comfortable here, so at home, that it feels very much like coming to my parents' house. Of course, I don't know my way around the town, and I barely know any of the neighbors, but I love sitting next door and hearing the stories over coffee and apple cake. It feels good to become more familiar with some place that will always be such an integral part of Paul.
It was a relaxed few days: a couple of games of Rummikub, two enjoyable breakfasts out, a trip up Mt. Magazine on a foggy morning... And I got to do some cooking and baking, which was a lot of fun. Jean and Sara gave me a fantastic bread baking book for my birthday (how's that for a little alliteration!): The Bread Baker's Apprentice - Mastering the Art of Extraordinary Bread. It's been a wonderful read. Who'd have thought that learning how to bake bread could be exciting, but I am just having a blast with it.
Day 8: Allen, TX/Danville, AR
This time with Judi Lynn and her family has been very easy, and so enjoyable. She and Paul go back about 25 years, so I really enjoyed the chance to spend a little time with her and to meet her kids and her new husband, Curtis. We got to hear the final concert for the week-long clarinet camp she organizes teaches in the summers - must have been about 30 students, middle school and high school. Ranged from "Polly Wolly Doodle" to Scott Joplin to some pretty advanced playing by some of the older kids. We even heard some pieces arranged for clarinet by students. I think she's been doing this camp for about 5 years now, and she's built it into quite an institution. Band is a VERY big deal in Texas - her high school has more classroom space, equipment and money devoted to their band, than Paul had for his entire music/drama/dance program. And that's just band. I counted 500 instrument lockers. In addition to regular band classes, students get a 25-minute private lesson each week for their instrument, and that's where Judi comes in. She teaches clarinet to about 70 students. 
Friday night she and Curtis left Issac and Samuel with a sitter for taco races and we had a grown-ups' night out. Went to hear a couple of indie artists at Uncle Calvin's Coffeehouse, a weekly venue in Dallas. They hold it in a church fellowship hall (Presbyterian, of course), and get musicians in from all over the country. We heard a young lady called Kristy Kruger, who is traveling the fifty states performing in honor of her brother, who was killed in Iraq. Her tour started as a way for her to deal with her own grief - something to force her out of bed in the morning. As she put it, she wanted to get to know the country he died for. So she and a friend are touring the country on a shoestring budget, gratefully accepting donations of hotel stays and fruit baskets. (Some one who heard her at an Oregon show is footing her airfare to Hawaii.)
What I found interesting is that she's not saying a word about the war itself - nothing for or against. It's not really about that. It's about her being able to see the country in memory of her brother and perform some of the music she's written since his death. She's also started meeting other gold star families (those who have lost a child, parent or sibling in combat) and arranging memorial performances for them. As heavy as the context is, the music and her performance is uplifting and actually very funny. Simple folk melodies on guitar or piano, often sung using a mic that lends an old-fashioned 40's sound. She shares stories from her tour of the peoples she's met and the places she's been. She doesn't have a tour schedule defined well in advance, but take a look at her web site for more details and keep your eyes and ears open for her in your area.
The drive to Paul's folks in Arkansas was pretty uneventful, although we did stop for lunch at Braum's. Yes! One of those little things that made life in Oklahoma worth living. Great burgers, better fries, and fantastic milkshakes and limeades all together at once place. They're in TX and OK, maybe Missouri as well. I did make it in and out of Oklahoma again without drama or tragedy -- it is not one of my favorite places. Among other things, the state refuses to permit same-sex parent adoptions or to recognize them from other states, so same-sex parents traveling through the state can find themselves with no legal rights to their children. That's not my idea of Family Values.
Editor's Note
Yes, I'm running a bit behind here. What with sporadic internet access, frequent travel, and being on vacation, I've been slacking a bit. Playing catch-up today and the next couple of days and will be posting things I've written along the way. Keep watching...
Roadtrip Haiku
A nifty little haiku from Michele Madrigal:
bugs on the windshield
stomach crying for salad
burst tire; call 3 A
Day 6: My Birthday (Updated)
Paul forgot my birthday today. Feel free to give him hell.
Granted, it's been a topsy-turvy week or two and we will be celebrating next week with his folks, but still... I half-expected this but was hoping for a little something special today.
I do love him so.
After knowing Paul for six years now (today is also our anniversary), the Man of a Thousand Stories is beginning to develop a selective economy with words. We were at a Starbucks this morning and when the woman behind the counter asked what he would like, he pointed to the bakery case and said:
"Banana chocolate-chip. Classic glazed."
No hello. No please. Very...well, succinct. Think old cowboy and Indian movies. How. Me brave chief. You squaw.
She retrieved my banana coffee cake, looked quizzically at Paul and asked, "Did you mean the old-fashioned? I wasn't sure if you wanted that or the classic coffee."
"Yes," said my husband. "That's the one. I guess I don't know the know what it's called here, what words to use."
"You could try the word donut," I suggested gently.
Update: OK, so Paul did good, with some help from Judi Lynn! We had a great homemade dinner, followed by orange and chocolate birthday cake. With sprinkles! We even had helium balloons. Thanks guys, I loved it. Great recovery.
Check out the cake. I had a "38" for the candles, and it said "Happy Anniversorry". Like I said Paul, you did good.
Day 5: Tucumcari, NM/Allen, TX
Today we left New Mexico and headed into Texas, through Amarillo and Wichita Falls to Allen, a suburb of Dallas. Paul's dear friend Judi Lynn lives there, and we'll be staying with her family for a couple of days before heading up to Arkansas to see Paul's parents.
The Texas panhandle is still very green this early in the summer, and the drive was easy and quite scenic. Flat, wide-open, and never-ending, but beautiful nonetheless. From Amarillo, we headed out on Hwy 287, a two to four-lane road that runs through many small towns that look like they've had some hard times. We saw a lot of empty storefronts, deserted sidewalks, and old Dr. Pepper signs rusting outside of auto shops. In one town, we passed a store selling larger-than-life black, metal silhouettes to decorate your yard, and they had their wares spread out along a fence at the roadside. Forty or fifty figures at least, including a full nativity scene arranged right next to a hunter, who was down on one knee aiming his rifle. Thankfully, he was taking aim at the metal deer on his other side, and not at Joseph or one of the camels.
We actually saw a group of flesh-and-blood camels later in the afternoon. Not something I associate with Texas, but hey, if you can keep llamas, why not camels? The benefit is not immediately apparent, but who knows? Maybe the rancher is going green and plans to trade in his 4x4 truck for a more efficient means of transportation.
About an hour west of Wichita Falls we stopped near the town of Vernon, where Paul's mother Sara grew up. Paul spent a couple of weeks out here most summers, and today we left the main road heading north to find the old homestead, which is no longer lived-in, but is still in the family. On the way out to the farm we passed the Fargo Cemetery, where Paul's grandparents and great-grandparents are buried. We climbed the fence and found the family plots while Simon explored to his heart's content, chasing a bird or two.
The farm road Paul remembers as red clay road is paved now with blacktop and gravel, and once we turned off it was just another couple of minutes' drive to the four-room house where Paul's Mommie-O and Daddy Roy raised their nine children. There was a shed out back where some of the boys would bunk once they got a little older, but otherwise we were looking at an eleven-person family home that was probably smaller than the first story of my grandparents' farm house in Wisconsin.
Paul isn't quite sure whether Roy farmed himself or rented out most of the land, but he remembers it mostly planted in cotton. The house is boarded up and overgrown now, but Paul painted a vivid picture for me from his summers with his grandparents: the front sitting room with its swamp cooler; the attached kitchen, which of course added to the summer heat; the trees out back where Paul would retreat to the hammock with a book and his Snoopy dog; the store down the road where Daddy Roy would treat the kids to a Dr. Pepper or an ice cream bar. Further down the road, there used to be an historic adobe house, one of the first family settlements in the area, but the original house is gone now - only a more recent addition remains. We also saw a monument to the early settlers: a stone pillar engraved with the names of local ranching families and the brands used to mark their cattle.
The clouds were getting heavy as we left the area, spreading across the sky like shredded cotton or vast herds of fluffy sheep. Ah, I miss clouds like that!
The scenery changed a bit as we got back on the highway and passed a XXX Bookstore and Video Arcade just a mile or so out of Vernon. We figured there must not be much else to do out here, because over the course of the next 60 miles we passed two more: one advertising free coffee and another, beef jerky. No shit! We were shocked to learn that blue movies and masturbation could be such a widespread pastime in George W.'s home state, but at least they do it with celebrated Texan hospitality. I doubt you'd find free coffee at such an establishment in San Francisco.
I REALLY wanted a picture of the XXX Video Arcade/Beef Jerky stand, but Paul vetoed my turnaround request. I didn't clamor enthusiastically enough. We learned our lesson, though, and made a u-turn for this sign:
We all know that the devil is synonymous with modern advertising, but who knew he'd gone direct? Have they let him into the local yellow pages as well?
Dinner tonight was a special occasion: real chicken-fried steak at the Armadillo Grill, a truckstop restaurant in Bowie. Judging by the immense size of most of its patrons, we figured the food must be well worth the stop. (We were right, but I did find myself wishing Paul hadn't pondered the point out loud.) The chicken-fried steak was fantastic! You could almost cut it with a fork, and batter was crispy and flavorful. Topped with peppered gravy the consistency of elementary-school paste and served with a side of fried okra, the meal was a delicious reminder of why we only indulge every couple of years. Have you ever felt your arteries clogging as you ate?
Day 4: Phoenix, AZ/Tucumcari, NM
Pretty straightforward day today. Scraped ourselves out of bed after a fantastic day with Drake, Ryan and Dean (and lots of pizza and frosty adult beverages), then headed up to Flagstaff and took highway 40 into New Mexico. It was pretty much a no-frills drive.
It was so good to spend some time with the guys. A well-timed reminder that years can go by between seeing friends and yet you can still fit together just as easily as before. 
Fort Courage in Houck, AZ was definitely a high point. Very well-equipped trading post that certainly saw better days back when Route 66 was hoppin'. I don't think the restaurant has served an 'Ice Creme Sunday" for at least a decade, but there is a pretty wide selection of geodes and plastic bows inside the gift shop.
Tucamcari Econo Lodge (on a scale of 1 to 5)
Cleanliness: 4
Rat Population: hard to say, but the trap out back was a whopper
Best feature: 10% off a the Denny's next door
I'm tired, so I'm going to let the photos tell the rest of the day's story...
Willie is a maniac in the swimming pool, but Simon was not nearly as enthusiastic. Coaxed him in eventually, but he always bounced right out again.
One of these guys didn't have to go to work this morning.
A storm was a-brewing tonight in Tucamcari!
Day 2: Indio, CA/Phoenix, AZ
Woo-hoo! 92 degrees at 8:30 am! Five quick hours into Phoenix on highway 10. Straight shot with only a rest stop or two.
Driving into Phoenix was so surreal for me. Ten years ago I know the city like the back of my hand. Now, all day long each street sign and freeway interchange started clicking memories into place, like a jigsaw puzzle of familiarity. I know I'm a very map-oriented person -- having a complete mental map of an area us a huge part of what makes a place start to feel like home for me. So today it was is if that map was starting to be re-crafted in small bits and pieces as we drove through Phoenix. And with every piece, there came all these associations and memories. No real surprise there. But what did startle me was how good it made me feel -- almost elated, high. Not necessarily due to the specific things I was remembering, it was more about the recognition itself. I told Paul it felt like going back to Disneyland after 15 years and walking down Main Street. Every next few steps brings a "remember this?" and "oh man, I'd completely forgotten about that!", and then by the time you get to Cinderella's castle, even more is coming back and you know just where to turn to get to Pirates of the Caribbean.
We're staying with Ryan and Dean at their place in Phoenix, and Drake has come to stay for the weekend. Simon spent all day playing with Willie their wire-hair terrier, who pretty much lives for playing in the swimming pool, while Simon (who won't enter the pool of his own free will) would only circle the pool and bark, telling Willie to come on out of there and play fair, dammit.
Had dinner at Barrio Cafe, a tiny central-Mexican restaurant that has actually been called the best Mexican in the state. It was a terrific meal! Achiote-rubbed Pork slow-roasted for over 14 hours... A chile relleno stuffed with chicken, pecans, apricots and pomegranate seeds... And of course, Oaxacan mole. Wow. The bathroom was decorated with posters and figurines of hooded mexican wrestlers.
After dinner, Drake, Paul and I stopped at Charlie's, a favorite country-western watering hole of mine, but alas it was particularly short of two-stepping cowboys in tight Wranglers. What good is a gay country dance bar if you stop in at 9:00 on a Sunday night to find them playing electronic dance music? So we headed to the New Towne instead, where I actually found my old roommate lurking in a dark corner.
E.S. and I -- wait, I should change his name to protect his anonymity.
F.T. and I shared a couple of apartments for two and a half years before I moved to California. I knew him as an extremely quiet, charming, eccentric who drove a Nash Metropolitan, waxed his moustache, and routinely left the house sporting spats and pince nez. He had a great love and appreciation for finials of all kinds and eschewed modern technology in favor of an 80-year-old typewriter and a phone that weighed more than a small toddler. An artist who worked in stained glass, he had a workshop in his bedroom, complete with a custom-designed hood that vented the fumes from his soldering iron out into the Scottsdale air.
Or so we thought. Talking with him last night, I learned that much of what I knew as his quirky personality could in fact be attributed to the effects of long-term lead poisoning. Those times when I'd find him sitting all alone at the kitchen table and ask "whatcha doin'?", and he'd say "oh, just chatting with the toaster"... Yep. He wasn't just being funny. He'd been chatting with the toaster.
He doesn't work in stained glass any more.
Day 1: San Jose, CA/Indio, CA
And, we're off! Saturday June 16th, 7am, the Buick Enclave is fully loaded (and fully loaded - thank you, Hertz), and we are hittin' the road. Simon has his own little next carved out behind the driver's seat, and we are stocked up with iced tea, fig newtons, and many back-epidodes of This American Life. I think we are set.
The plan for Day 1: East from San Jose through Yosemite, then south at Lee Vining down 395 along the eastern Sierra Nevada to San Bernadino. East on 10 through Banning (yes, we saw Hadley's from the freeway and it's HUGE) and Palm Springs to charming Indio (home of the National Date Festival). About 700 miles, give or take.
Yosemite was beautiful, of course. It was a quick drive through, we looped the loop on the Valley floor said hello, and enjoyed the smell of the pine trees. Simon had his head out of the window most of the time, nose a twitchin'.
In Lee Vining, on the other side of the park, we paid $4/gallon for gas, grabbed a burger, and headed south past Mono Lake. That afternoon drive was fantastic, I'm pretty sure we were re-tracing much of the route I'd taken 12 years ago during a petrology field trip. Mt. Whitney, alluvial fans galore, and lots of open road. What is the deal with jerky in this part of California. No kidding, we say at least 10 signs today advertising the sale of various jerked meats, including Tie-Dye Jerky on the west side of Yosemite. Of course, by the time we realized we were witnessing a phenomenon, we'd passed the last of them.
Most alien-looking vegetation: joshua tree
Best use of misplaced apostrophes: Lone Pine 'Says' Howdy
Most misleading town greeting: Welcome to Adelanto, City of Unlimited Possibility
If you've ever driven through Adelanto, you'd know that the key to opening up unlimited possibilities is getting OUT. The town's mayor and his wife had a host of new possibilities open up to them recently: they were arrested in April for stealing $20,000 from the coffers of the local Little League. (That's one way to get out of town.)
Dinner in Indio on our first night on the road was a special occasion. After wandering a parking lot outside a Food Max and a CVS drugstore trying the find the Subway we'd seen from the road, we came across it minutes after they'd closed, of course. And I was really hankering for a Seafood® Sub, too. So, it was Jack-In-The-Box salads, eaten back in our well-appointed room.
Indio Motel 6 (on a scale of 1 to 5)
Cleanliness: 4
Water Pressure: 6
Shower nozzle height: 2 (that's two feet)
Amenities: 4 (ice machine AND an ice bucket, not to mention very colorful bedspreads)
Best feature: the guy unloading his car while we were checking in