Day 4

Rikki told me this morning that I was being bossy, and controlling, and taking over the whole trip. So I've agreed to let him handle this blog post:


Hey mom, I know you want me to go to the Grand Canyon with you today, but there are a lot of birds right here, right now, right outside this window, flitting from branch to branch on this here tree. And I'm thinking that if I just wait long enough, one of them may fly into the room where I can play with it. So you go on without me, OK?








OK, fine. You say that this national treasure is something that everyone should see. That I'm a lucky cat, because not too many cats get to see stuff like this. Great...let's get to it. You had better HOPE that this is better than the birds in that tree outside our hotel window...




You said it would take us five minutes to get there. It feels like a lot longer than that. Screw it, I'm taking a nap...wake me when we're there.






Uh, yeah. It's an animal's ass. Like I haven't seen that before? Like I don't see it every day when I have to lick my own? Yawn...you'd better make this interesting, and fast.





Oh crap, this isn't what I meant when I said interesting. You're not thinking of tossing me over the edge or anything, are you? Because I'll be good...I promise I will.






Rikki was not tossed over the edge...just placed back in his carrier.






And then he went to sleep for the majority of the rest of the ride between Grand Canyon, AZ and Santa Fe, NM. So there will be no commentary, just the following pictures that were taken from moving vehicle in route.

Day 3

Reporting from the Grand Hotel near the entrance to the Grand Canyon.

It's cold!!! There is snow on the ground here. Which makes sense, since the elevation is about 5000 ft.

Haven't ventured to the rim yet, going to wait until tomorrow morning to hit that on our way out.

Tonight is set aside for relaxing...a soak in the hot tub, dinner at the hotel steak house, and TV.

Today's drive was uneventful. Rikki was all kinds of antsy so I finally just put him in his carrier, padded with plastic bags and my bathroom floor rug. He slept for most of the trip.

Tried him on a leash for the first time in a long time. Well, it wasn't really a leash. It was the strap to a suitcase that I hooked onto his collar, which I bought for him before we moved to Crete the first time and which he has never worn. What can I say...it served no real purpose other than to reassure me that he wouldn't run off and try to hide in a storm drain. Which is a good enough purpose, I suppose. But really, the whole point was to try to get him to pee, and he was having none of it.

I blew by a cop doing 85mph...he didn't even blink. I love driving these long, straight roads.

Found it somewhat amusing that when I stopped at the A&W fast food store in Seligman, AZ, the folks behind the counter could NOT understand why on earth I would ask for just the chicken strips. No fries, no drink, no sauce. "But ma'am, it's cheaper if you buy the meal than just the strips". Well, darlin'....it actually isn't cheaper, because the strips alone are $4.61, and the meal is $7.09. But I understand where you're going here...that it's more economical to buy the meal, because you get more. But I don't want more. I just want the strips. And I'm willing to pay too much for just them. She had to consult with a guy, who came and asked me if I was sure that all I wanted was the chicken strips. Then off they went to make my chicken strips, and they were joined by a third employee, and the three of them continued to have a conversation in plain sight/earshot of me about the fact that I just wanted the strips.

Just wrapped up dinner - buffalo brisket and cheap syrah. There was an old-timer on stage playing guitar and singing old-tyme tunes. As cheesy as it was, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Johnny Cash, The Eagles, Patsy Cline...all great "road" music. "Crazy" is one of my favorite songs ever. I prefer when Patsy does it:-) Here's the link to the youtube video from tonight's entertainer, because I can't figure out how to upload the video directly to the blog. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNcTj_v-xmw&list=UU0YNeprk2cJpNMsfC8QpEqQ&index=1&feature=plcp

Day 2

Highway 99 between Lodi and Bakersfield might be the most depressing, soul-less stretch of road I've ever traveled. I stopped in an area called Chowchilla to use the bathroom at a McDonalds, thinking that I would buy a cookie so I wouldn't feel guilty about just using their facilities. Once in line, I was soon joined by about six thuggish looking dudes, who very politely said "excuse me" before cutting in line in front of me. I left without the cookie. When I perform a Google search for "Chowchilla", the first option that comes up on the auto-fill is "Chowchilla Prison". 'Nuff said.

Rikki is an illegal at the Ramada Inn in Barstow. I first went to the Quality Inn, where they told me they didn't have any pet friendly rooms available. They referred me to the Ramada Inn across the street, but I didn't want to risk getting the same response, so I just didn't mention him when I checked in. I had to sneak him and his liter box in via a distant entrance, because our room is really close to the front desk.

I hope I don't get food poisoning from the seafood pasta I ordered from the Italian restaurant up the street. I just ate a LOT of it, so if I am going to be sick, it's going to be spectacular.

Day 1

It struck me as I drove down I5 this morning that I may not actually have enough interesting experiences on this trip to warrant a blog about it. The weather was fine, the cat was behaving well, I wasn't going to be taking time to stop at interesting places along the way. And I'd probably be too tired at the end of each day to put much effort into trying to make the mundane seem exciting or humorous.

But I'm going to have a go at it anyway, and I apologize in advance if the reading of this puts you to sleep. Unless you have insomnia, then I'll kindly accept whatever payment you feel is appropriate.

So, I'll just kind of recount the things that stick out in my mind, in no particular order. Apologies once again, if it's somewhat haphazardly written.

Rikki peed in his carrier. He has flown internationally four times, on trips of close to 24 hours, and never done that before. I gave him ample opportunity to use his box, which was on the floor in the back. Each time we stopped for food, gas or for me to relieve my own bladder, I put him in his box. He wanted nothing to do with it. So at one point, probably about 20 minutes after my last attempt to have him go in the box, he started digging at the padding in his carrier, and I smelled that unmistakable smell. Oh well, at least I'm sure he felt better at this point, and we had no choice but to let him roam free in the car. His attempts to climb onto the floor underneath my legs were easily thwarted, and other than a rank smelling ride (there was no room in the trunk for his carrier), the rest of the drive was free of additional bodily waste.

When I stopped at McDonalds for lunch (what...it's a ROAD TRIP, I have to eat that stuff!) the girl manning the register was clearly new, and I'm thinking not necessarily all that bright. OK, I have to go easy on her, because I know that when I'm new at a job, I get nervous, and my nerves often prevent me from performing at my best. My order was pretty simple, cheeseburger and small fries, but she had to ask me like three or four times before she got it. My total came to $3.45 or something like that, and I handed her a $20. She had already entered the $20 and started to make my change, when I started to ask her if I could give her the 45 cents. But something told me that it was going to be difficult for her if I did that, so I just cut myself short and said, "never mind, it's OK". While I was waiting for my order, the customer who came after me gave her $10.10 for his $4.08 order. And yeah...she couldn't do it. She had to call her supervisor. Then this old timer says loudly enough for everyone in the place to hear, "OK now, I'm going to be a little bit obnoxious here, but you need to know that this is a problem with your generation. You never learned how to do math. You use calculators and computers for everything, and you don't know how to do something as basic as make change unless some machine is telling you exactly how to do it." The girl either didn't care or didn't understand, she just gave him his change and told him his order would be ready shortly. There is no real point to this story, but I thought it was somehow amusing. Stupid girl, cantankerous old dude. Someone with more talent (or inclination) than I might have turned this into a deep commentary on the state of....something.

OK, last story and I'll let you go to sleep.

When I pulled up to the Best Western in Lodi, there was a sign on the door that read "Will Return in 5 Minutes". There was another guest standing outside, so I chatted with him while we waited for the front desk clerk to return. It wasn't long into the conversation, maybe three minutes, before my "warning" light came on. I think it was when he mentioned his PTSD. Or was it when he said his "service dog", a pit bull, had escaped onto the highway last Thursday and been killed? Hmmmm, perhaps it was the part where he mentioned waking up a few days ago, surrounded by cops, with no idea of how he had gotten where he was. And then there was the story about how he has wrecked two cars in the last two weeks. Things that make you go....hmmmmm. And things that make you go "Where the %&!* is the desk clerk??????". Well, I didn't want to hurt him any more than he has apparently already been hurt. Or make him hate me and want to hurt me. So I just got real. I told him that it totally sucks about his dog, I was really, really sorry to hear that. I have a cat in my car, I think I'd freak out if something like that happened to him. I asked him where he got his PTSD. He said it was in the Navy, 30 years ago, aboard the USS Enterprise. He said he lost half his face and neck to shrapnel, and showed me the scar. It was indeed pretty heinous. He said the VA had denied his case, claiming that he had never served in the military. I think that it was at this point that my warning light was joined by a loud alarm. I realized that I was standing there engaging in a conversation with someone who was probably not very mentally stable...at all. Then I felt guilty. What if his story really was true, and he was one of those unfortunate cases you hear about that fall between the cracks? Then I decided I didn't care, this dude frightened me. Then I told him that I thought I should call the front desk and see if we couldn't get our clerk to hurry it up a bit. Which worked. Phew. He had come in to use the internet in the lobby, which was situated right next to the front desk, and as the clerk checked me in, I found myself wanting to write her a note that would read "Please do not say my room number out loud". I really, really wanted to write that. Fortunately, I didn't have to. She handed me the key envelope with the number written on it and said "This is your room number, it's on the first floor, just around to the right".

And that's about it for today. I'm happy to find out that my drive time to our next destination tomorrow (Barstow) is only a little over six hours. Which means I can stay up late and watch crap TV and take my time tomorrow morning. In the mean time, here are some pics from today:



OK, I know I peed in my carrier, but I felt secure in there, damn it. If you're not going to give me any good places to hide, can you please get me a new carrier? Like...now?









Oh wait, food. Never mind, it's all good.







This was as bad as the weather got. Still not regretting buying the chains, 'cause it's better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them. And who knows, there may still be an opportunity to use them yet on this trip as I head through OK and TN.




Mt. Shasta






Yeah, let's just not tell anyone about that whole pee incident, kay?






Ah, California pollution. Makes for some mighty beautiful sunsets.

Next Week's Commute

View Driving directions to annandale, virginia in a larger map

On the Road Again

It's another cold, rainy winter day in Oregon. And it's looking like we probably only have about eight more left here.

At the end of this month, we will have been here for exactly six months. I had intended for us to stay longer, but things didn't work out as planned. Funny how that happens.

My original reason for moving to Oregon from the East coast was two-fold: First, I had hoped to get a job in the wine industry here. Second, there was this guy...

The first hope more or less panned out, but not to the degree I wanted or needed it to. I worked as a sales rep for several months with a wholesale distributor in Portland, provided some part-time event and harvest assistance to a winery in Cornelius, and worked a few Saturdays with a wine shop/tasting room in Forest Grove. But none of it was enough to keep me afloat financially, and efforts to find something, anything that would pay enough to keep me from going into debt have been fruitless. The unemployment rate here is pretty high (8.6% at last tally) and competition for full-time, administrative jobs with health benefits is fierce.

Then, there's the guy. I don't feel like going into the details, but I had really high hopes for this relationship and no clue that he had lost that same hope while I was away in Crete, Greece for four months prior to moving here. All seemed well, then about a week after I arrived in Oregon, he broke it off. It didn't make it any easier on me when about five hours after he ended things, I got a call from my dad in Northern Virginia that my mother had died. It was a pretty sucky day.

I had already started the job with the distributor, and was renting a room in a house with a really awesome young woman with whom I got on well, so I decided to stay and see how things panned out. Long story short, the distributor position was not financially viable; primarily commission-driven, no health benefits and the mileage I was putting on my 2003 Honda Civic was doubtless going to contribute to its early demise. So I quit that in early October to devote my full attention to finding a traditional desk job with health benefits. As I already mentioned, that hasn't worked out so well.

So here we are, six months into our latest adventure, and it is clearly time to move on.

There has been much that I have enjoyed about this experience and that I will miss. Portland is a great little city, with lots of character and charm. The farmland that surrounds the outer suburbs is sublimely pretty, and the sky here sometimes takes my breath away. There is a wonderful local food and drink scene, with wines that in my opinion are second to none. The people on the whole are more polite than in my native Washington, DC, and the traffic, although it can be annoying at certain times of the day and in certain locations, doesn't come close to the clusterf*ck that reigns supreme in the major east coast metro areas. Although my social network has been slow to develop, I have met a handful of really intelligent, interesting and enjoyable people to hang out with from time to time. I'm finding that I enjoy the more liberal mindset of the people here, even if I don't often agree with many of their economic viewpoints. There are quite a few good schools in the greater Portland area, and a resulting community of people who are interested in interesting things like science and philosophy. I have enjoyed being part of a number of meetups, attended by mostly freethinker types.

But of all the things that have made my stay here meaningful, it is my living situation that I will miss the most. Megan has provided a fun, comfortable, affordable and supportive environment. We have consumed much wine together. We have commiserated about men. She graciously forgave me when I inadvertently allowed her pet duck to be killed by the racoons. She has taken care of Rikki when I've been away, and I have taken care of her awesome dog and three cats when she has been away. She is laid back, friendly, funny, smart, reliable and generous. I don't quickly or often feel at ease with people, but this has felt almost like family from the get-go. She has even been kind enough to offer to let me slide for a couple of months on rent if it will mean that I can stay and continue to look for work. But alas, I fear I would only be postponing the inevitable, and it is time to go.

Rikki and I will be returning to the Washington, DC area, where we will stay with my father for a few months while I look for employment. The unemployment rate in Fairfax County is 4%, so I'm hopeful that I'll have better luck there. I am also really looking forward to being in close proximity to my family and close friends again.

After much internal debate about how to travel, I think I've decided on driving. It would cost about the same to ship my car and fly, but the car transport people say that the interior of the car must remain empty, and that all belongings must fit into the trunk. Although I have whittled my personal effects down quite a bit over the last few years, I still have enough that I will need to utilize the majority of the passenger space. Also, the trucking companies only accept cash as payment, and that's not something that I have in abundant supply right now. If I drive, I can put the gas and hotels on credit.

Since it's winter, we'll be taking a southerly route...down through California, across Arizona, New Mexico, a little bit of Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia. If we can manage eight hours a day of driving, we should get there in about eight days.

If we can manage eight hours a day of driving. Rikki has traveled with me to Greece and back twice. He has flown cross country twice. Has seen the airports of DC, Frankfurt, Munich, Athens, Chania, Tampa, Montreal, Toronto and Portland...some of them on more than one occasion. He has adjusted remarkably well to many new environments over the last seven years - nine to be exact. But eight days in a car? I'll admit to being a bit queasy at the thought.

But damn it, I want him to see the Grand Canyon. I want someone to take a picture of us standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. I want to have one last adventure, no matter how uncomfortable it may end up being for us both, before we have to settle down for a while in an ordinary world.

So Rikki, my dear - prepare yourself. It'll be fun....really.