Road Trip Journal - We're Home

Day 3

We arrived home, finally, finally. Our longest drive yet (over eight hours.) Much drama. A locksmith was summoned. Songs were sung. Stairs climbed. Things, or objects, rather, are missing, but I am here with a full heart and my very own traveling hero.

My baby breathes snuffily in his own bedroom now and I'm too wired, my head full of overlapping lists. Each room is painted a different color. I like that.

I should eat something and rest, my mom told me when I called her, rattling off lists. I'll get right to that now.

Road Trip Journal, Day Two

A much shorter drive today - only four and a half hours! We sailed through Pennsylvania, with a lovely view of Lake Erie to the left of the car. Barn swallows swooped and hawks glided around the car. I enjoyed their company, and was amused to imagine I was at the front of a ship, hands on the wheel, bouncing through waves, a pod of dolphins flanking the prow, leaping in concert to accompany our passage.

I had the nicest surprise experience at a McDonald's in the beginning part of New York. I drove through and asked carefully at the drive-through if they could make me one of their little wraps vegetarian-style. The loudspeaker voice cheerfully concurred, and as I pulled up to pay, this apple-cheeked girl told me that a bunch of people who worked there were vegetarians and didn't eat most of the food. "So," I began, confused, "Why?" She laughed and told me there really weren't a lot of places to get a job around there.

Then she went on to recommend that I ask for a Big Mac's fixin's with two big slices of tomato instead of meat sometime. "It's so delicious!" she assured me. The wrap was okay, a bunch of melty Swiss, sauteed mushrooms, and a flour tortilla. I usually prefer corn, the flour ones are too chewy, but in pinch, I dug the experience of getting the little snack, and the girl's story made up for the big glob of mayonnaise hanging out at one end of the wrap.

Finally, after lunch, my son slept and the INano (Is it pre-programmed with some incredibly intelligent formula which predicts musical needs in advance? Because all signs point to yes.) played these songs in this order, a stunningly perfect accompaniment to both his peaceful slumber and my contentment in steering through the pretty green, soft hills of New York State:

Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies
Lullaby - Greg Brown
Time Has Told Me - Nick Drake
Bring It On Home - Sam Cooke

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Best: Playing Bubbles and Hide-and-Go-Seek in the motel room
Worst: Previous hotel guest anointed the motel room with copious amounts of (I'm hoping?) dog urine. Peee-Ew.

Also, Words

trumpet
portent

Road Trip Journal, Day One

Today's drive began in farm country and ended in farm country. Once we got past Chicago, it was smooth and easy driving. My INano favored me with an extraordinarily perfect shuffle for the first part of the trip, as we pulled through Chicago's skyline, Iris Dement was crooning "Our Town," a song I first heard performed by Kate Rusby. I don't normally care for the warbly quality of Iris Dement's voice, but it worked. Now, we've stopped in Cleveland for the night. Grocery stores in the area seem sparse, but hopefully I can stock up on any little necessities in Rochester.

We passed a field which seemed to house an army of chocolate-colored cows. "Look, look!" I pointed, but my son was more interested in dumping water on his lap. The coolest part was the sky - it was completely still and flat, like one of those mattes in a Hollywood movie, where the cowboys or Hitchcock characters are riding around and the clouds remain motionless. The whole way it was like that, and with the open road rolling by, it was really like being in one of those "American" movies the Amélie character noticed where people drive without glancing at the road. I, of course, glanced at the road constantly. Whenever I was finished with exchanging excited grins with my kid.

When I was a little girl, my mom and I had this bedtime routine where we would both share our "worst" and "best" thing that had happened each day. Here are mine:

Worst: Nary a drive-through or good grocery store in the area near the Cleveland Airport
Best: Being well-rested and refreshed at the start of the day. I barely felt sleepy all day at the wheel.

Moving Eve

This will be my last night in my cozy La Salle home-in-the-trees. Boxes are stacked in huge columns around me as I write this, and my khakis are covered with grime from climbing in and out of the attic. It's quiet, crowded, and marvelously dusty. I'm looking forward to my pre-dinner shower (if I've earned one, I may still be climbing around then.)

I've dumped all the birdseed on the windowsill, mainly because I don't want any creepy-crawlies growing inside the container en route to our new home. So periodically, as I navigate past the labyrinth of towering box stacks in the bedroom, I'm startled by the fussy court of sparrows twitching around the curly iron railing.

Tomorrow morning, the movers come for everything. They've already sectioned off the spaces in front of the trees with little signs. Once the car is packed up, I want to take a picture in front of it, posing in anticipation of the open road. One of those 'Here we are, before our great journey' photographs. Many years from now, when my son and I pack up the car that will take him off to yet another part of his special, wonderful life,we'll take another photograph. My hair will be frizzier and gray, and he will, I'm certain, still have his fantastic, broad grin.

Atticus

http://blogs.chicagotribune.com/news_columnists_ezorn/2010/07/where-is-atticus-50-years-later.html

If I Had a Hammer

Back when I used to enjoy running daily, I was always particularly irked by drivers who would lurch into intersections when pedestrians had the clear right of way. There are a few variations of this thoughtless practice. One is the driver whose car blocks the pedestrian crosswalk so that people are forced to inch around their car's nose into oncoming traffic. Another is the car (often cab or BMW driver) who is determined to run over pedestrians while turning to the right through a crosswalk.

In those days, running with headphones made it especially challenging to dodge inconsiderate drivers. So, self-righteous creature that I am, I thought of ways I might exact revenge. One was to hurl one of those little clear crazy bouncy balls at their windshield. Harmless, I thought, but...Boi-oi-oing! Not good enough. My second thought was to run with a little rubber hammer tucked into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. A car lurches at me in the intersection and I stop, eyeballing the driver, supervillain stance, brandishing the hammer set to pound the car's hood. It would be delightfully comical, I imagined, to decorate the hammer in a very Las Vegas show-girly way: pink feathers, sequins, and fringe tassles.*

I never actually executed any of these instructive methods. Until today. I awoke from a groggy nap with an intense desire for an ice cream cone. Minutes later, I was strolling towards Bughouse Square with a double scoop of Cherries Jubilee on a sugar cone. A BMW sat almost in the intersection of Clark and Oak, completely blocking the crosswalk. I gingerly pushed the stroller in front of the car's hood, made eye contact with the driver and turned my sugar cone upside down, and lowered until it was poised to be planted on his hood. Then I blew a raspberry at him (my son has taught me well) righted the ice cream cone and took an evil lick. Sucker.

That ice cream cone was especially yummy.




*The idea for decorating a hammer, of course, came from an episode of The Gilmore Girls. Inspired.