One more tidbit from vacation that I forgot about that I wanted to share: boogie-boarding. Another first from my time in Alabama, and an interesting one at that. The first day that we were down at the beach the waves were so rough that they put up the red flag (hoist the colors!), but pretty much every day after that, the ocean was as calm as candy, and we could go out and float practically as easily as if we had been in our own swimming pool. And it was on these waters that I made my first attempts on the boogie board, which were quite successful, riding into shore on my little board, tho not attempting to stand up on my knees or any such antics, especially as I am not even sure that such things are supposed to be attempted on said board. So anyway, along I went and it was all very jolly.
The next day was our last day of vacation and for some reason the water was suddenly much rougher, not as bad as that first day, but just enough to add some excitement to our usually blase floating. So I decided that this day would be extra jolly for some boarding of the boogie, and off I went, trying to ride into shore on these now extra large waves. But the other difference between this day and t'other is that in the interim, the beach was also much more shelly (as in, covered in little bits of broken up shells, not of or pertaining to Mrs. Salnikov, who should read this post now since I've referenced her in it.) So it was that I found myself, after a few false starts, being thrown onto and dragged across and bunch of sand laced with shell shards by a burly and unforgiving wave. Oh yes. And the other facinating part is that I actually did this a couple of times before I really got slammed down and formed the kindly thought, "Hey, wait, this hurts." The other part of this tale which I have heretofore left out was that I know nothing of boogie boarding, or boarding of any kind when it comes to that. Furthermore, everyone else at the beach was just kind of floating on their boards out beyond the surf, whereas to me it seemed like the logical thing to use the board to ride into shore on the breaking wave, which had worked rather successfully the previous day, but I have also never even seen anyone else riding a boogie board. So it was that, making it up as I went, I ended up coming back out after that last hard knock bleeding somewhat from numerous scratches and scrapes on my left forearm. I would take a picture and post it, but I have waited too long and they are all healing quite nicely and no longer puffy and red. But at the time, there I was with wounded pride and a scraped up arm, riding about in SALT water. I didn't say anything to anyone, feeling sheepish and not wanting to encourage my sister's fear o'the sea by telling her I had gotten smashed by a wave. She noticed a day or so later, but my mom, interestingly enough, has yet to notice all these scratches. And this is the story of how I came to have a most excellent case of...well, if I had been riding a motorcycle I would probably call it road rash so perhaps those in the know would call this "sand rash?" Perhaps they would just call it lame, because I'm pretty sure for this to happen I was doing something that those in the know wouldn't do. If I could just find one of them, perhaps I could ask, but there seems to be a shortage...
Oh, the other funny thing was that the flip flops, that I stole from Maggie which she said gave her scrapes on her feet finally started to do the same to me. I wore them faithfully, if illicitly, throughout Mayterm and Art Reach, even when the sole on the left one started peeling off and I had to fix it with duct tape so I wouldn't trip and fall in front of or on top of the kids, and they never were anything but the kindest most gracious flip-flops. Amazingly, once I added a little stiffening salt water to the strap and some nice abrasive sand, they started to scratch my foot all up. But only on the left side, mind you (which seems to have taken a beating this vacation) while the right foot was unaffected. So I finally broke down and bought some seven dollar flip flops from Old Navy that are very fuzzy and the bottom and have no traction and threaten to kill me when I walk on any smooth surface. The End.
Alright, that's enough posting about vacation already! Can't we get back to the intellectual stuff? We will, we will, no more vacuous vacation posts. Unless I think of something else that's funny, then I'm totally gonna post it because, hey, it's my blog.
Crabs to you,
S.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Snapshots
I am a bit of a sign aficionado from all of my travels, not like the zodiac or anything kooky like that, but you know, road signs, caution signs, store signs, etc. I thought I would post a couple of my favorites from this past trip.
This one is from a restaurant in Biloxi, unfortunately I can't remember the name. It's piratacular.
So, this is pretty much one of my favorite finds ever. We actually saw another grocery store like this, maybe it's a chain? That would be superlative. If you don't get the joke, you should read the Bible. Honestly.
That's all folks,
S.
This one is from a restaurant in Biloxi, unfortunately I can't remember the name. It's piratacular.
So, this is pretty much one of my favorite finds ever. We actually saw another grocery store like this, maybe it's a chain? That would be superlative. If you don't get the joke, you should read the Bible. Honestly.
That's all folks,
S.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Sweet Home Alabama
Well, friends, I am back from vacation, but the pace has not noticeably slowed. Vacation was fun, good to get out of town for a while and down to the beach. We headed to Gulf Shores, Alabama, although it was so similar to last year's vacation that it was hard for us to remember most of the time that we hadn't ended up all the way in Florida. I'll tell you a few things that were different, though. For one thing, the drawl was a lot heavier down there. I think it was funniest on the little kids. Another thing, I guess its cliche to say that people are friendlier down South, but I honestly have found it to be true. Maybe a better word than friendly would be outgoing. People all seem to be in each other's business, in a light way, even amongst strangers. People will admire each other's babies in the elevator, point out nice shoes or purses, discuss the parking situation with complete strangers, I even had a lady ask me the other day for help in how to choose a good grapefruit. It's a bit amazing to me, that people can just start a conversation as if they were old friends. I know that some people might find it grating, but I think its kind of nice, warm, it creates this atmosphere of comfort. I also don't think that people are necessarily cold in the North, it's just a difference of degree and manner of expression.
I think my favorite expression of the neighborhood mentality came every night around 10:00, when everybody from these big, fancy condos would come down to the beach, little kids, old people, middle aged people, teenage couples would all troop down to the beach with their little plastic sand buckets and nets and flashlights and go digging through the sand, looking for crabs. And I don't mean just a few families coming down, I mean there was a bunch of people coming down. I love walking on the beach at night to begin with, it is one of my all time favorite things. The velvet black water, the cool sand, the soft breeze, the little purling ribbon of surf that rides in on the dying wave. The stars and the moon hung hazy in the muggy night. Add to that the laughter of families crowded around holes in the sand and hundreds and hundreds of little flashlights, bobbing like festival lanterns all up and down the beach. It's perfect. We never found any crabs, we only brought our flashlight down once and we had no idea how to look or what we were looking for. Some people were digging up in the dry sand and some people kept scanning the surf like they expected the crabs to ride in on little pontoon boats. My sister kept spotlighting bits of dark sea shells. I don't care if we never found anything, it would be worth it to go "looking" every night for that kind of atmosphere.
We spent about equal parts of time swimming and shopping. There was another outlet mall where we stayed, which is difficult. I liked shopping and to tell you the truth, I needed the clothes and they were way cheap. I just always feel kind of dirty when I spend that much time shopping. Ah well, someday when I have all the clothes I need I can leave this life of sin behind me forever. The other major attraction was Lambert's restaurant, an institution of Foley, Alabama. They have a kind of loose interpretation of "family style" dining, in which servers walk around with different dishes that are up for grabs in any amount, any table, any person, no matter what you ordered, you could sample what they called "pass arounds." Oh, that was the other part of the particularly southern nature of the trip, this was the first time I have ever sampled fried okra or grits. I am now as Southern as a fried green tomato. Yee-haw. Anyway, the major attraction of Lambert's, which brought in crowds for hours long waits, was the "throwed rolls." That's right, you heard me, they had two particular servers who walked around throwing rolls to patrons who had the daring to raise their hand. Some of the timid would wait until they were passing right next to the table, but, I kid you not, you could raise you hand when they were across the room and they would toss it right over to you. Our own Jeanne Hughes accomplished this amazing feat of athleticism right on the spot. They were amazing rolls too, especially with their homemade pass-around apple butter. Great place, that Lambert's. However, we were talking to the lady who passed out the black-eyed peas, and she said that they only let boys have the roll throwing positions. Now, I'll grant you, some of those shots are a little tricky because there's this overhang over the booths that are along the sides, and plastic hams hanging from that...anyway, I guess you had to be there. But still, I think this whole "girls can't throw rolls" thing is an obvious example of blatant sexism. We should write letters! We should call our congress people! Ehhhh...whatever, throw me another roll. And pass the apple butter.
Yours exhaustedly,
S.
I think my favorite expression of the neighborhood mentality came every night around 10:00, when everybody from these big, fancy condos would come down to the beach, little kids, old people, middle aged people, teenage couples would all troop down to the beach with their little plastic sand buckets and nets and flashlights and go digging through the sand, looking for crabs. And I don't mean just a few families coming down, I mean there was a bunch of people coming down. I love walking on the beach at night to begin with, it is one of my all time favorite things. The velvet black water, the cool sand, the soft breeze, the little purling ribbon of surf that rides in on the dying wave. The stars and the moon hung hazy in the muggy night. Add to that the laughter of families crowded around holes in the sand and hundreds and hundreds of little flashlights, bobbing like festival lanterns all up and down the beach. It's perfect. We never found any crabs, we only brought our flashlight down once and we had no idea how to look or what we were looking for. Some people were digging up in the dry sand and some people kept scanning the surf like they expected the crabs to ride in on little pontoon boats. My sister kept spotlighting bits of dark sea shells. I don't care if we never found anything, it would be worth it to go "looking" every night for that kind of atmosphere.
We spent about equal parts of time swimming and shopping. There was another outlet mall where we stayed, which is difficult. I liked shopping and to tell you the truth, I needed the clothes and they were way cheap. I just always feel kind of dirty when I spend that much time shopping. Ah well, someday when I have all the clothes I need I can leave this life of sin behind me forever. The other major attraction was Lambert's restaurant, an institution of Foley, Alabama. They have a kind of loose interpretation of "family style" dining, in which servers walk around with different dishes that are up for grabs in any amount, any table, any person, no matter what you ordered, you could sample what they called "pass arounds." Oh, that was the other part of the particularly southern nature of the trip, this was the first time I have ever sampled fried okra or grits. I am now as Southern as a fried green tomato. Yee-haw. Anyway, the major attraction of Lambert's, which brought in crowds for hours long waits, was the "throwed rolls." That's right, you heard me, they had two particular servers who walked around throwing rolls to patrons who had the daring to raise their hand. Some of the timid would wait until they were passing right next to the table, but, I kid you not, you could raise you hand when they were across the room and they would toss it right over to you. Our own Jeanne Hughes accomplished this amazing feat of athleticism right on the spot. They were amazing rolls too, especially with their homemade pass-around apple butter. Great place, that Lambert's. However, we were talking to the lady who passed out the black-eyed peas, and she said that they only let boys have the roll throwing positions. Now, I'll grant you, some of those shots are a little tricky because there's this overhang over the booths that are along the sides, and plastic hams hanging from that...anyway, I guess you had to be there. But still, I think this whole "girls can't throw rolls" thing is an obvious example of blatant sexism. We should write letters! We should call our congress people! Ehhhh...whatever, throw me another roll. And pass the apple butter.
Yours exhaustedly,
S.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die
There is much to report after this tumultuous week. However, all of that gets put to one side to report that I have finally landed on my new e-mail address. That's at least one less thing to worry about. Like all truly great moments of inspiration, it was a truly obvious solution, beautiful in it's simplicity. The account is all set up, so any time you want to drop me a line, just write me at...wait for it...drum roll please...what? You think I'm just gonna hand out my e-mail address online? I'm not stupid, you know! Fortunately, it's set up so that it forwards from my old account, so if you want the secret revealed, you can just e-mail!
Speaking of communication, I wanted to take a second to say how sad I feel that I haven't had sufficient time to write to those of you who have already written. The week that I got back I was trying to get settled and then this whole past week I've been doing VBS at church. I thought that I would have more time to get things done in the evening, but I was completely exhausted every evening. So, I have grieved in my heart about not being able to reply to any of your wonderful communications. I will worn you right now that the next week does not look promising. We're heading out on vacation tomorrow and we won't be back for a week. But, don't feel bad if you think I'm neglecting you. I'm also not finding a job, not writing my support letter for missions, and not writing the thank you notes for the profs who helped me with my honors project which wrapped up in April or some of those who gave me graduation money. Yeesh. How am I gonna relax with all this hanging over my head, I'll never know.
So how was the VBS? Well, it was...something else. I feel like any experience you end by getting a cold/flu/allegy thing is an experience where some things should have been different. I have to say, somehow it was really, really difficult this week. The most difficult ArtReach yet, in fact. Everything seemed to be so hard, just getting out of bed and going in the morning seemed to be difficult. The kids were difficult, staying up and cheerful all the time was difficult, being what felt like the only person willing to be a disciplinarian was difficult. I swear, sometimes I felt more like a prison warden than a kid's camp worker. It's hard to enjoy yourself when you feel like you're just there to keep control.
This might sound a little strange, but the hardest day for me was definitely Thursday, the whole salvation message, gospel preaching, sports themed tracts day. It brought a lot of questions to the fore for me, about the nature of salvation and how it should be presented to kids. Ever seen the documentary Jesus Camp? It wasn't like that this week, but I feel like that movie is so important because it is a stark reminder of how easily children can be manipulated. Maybe we have this idea that they are young and pure and innocent which enables them to accept Christ because they haven't got our barriers. Maybe it's easy for them because if you put an idea in their head they want to go with it, they want the pat on the head, the comfortable feeling of having done what's expected. And then there's the whole content issue, the old ABC's of salvation that we tote out year after year with tons of people and have printed on God only knows how many pieces of literature. Is that stupid thing even biblical? I am so far from thinking that this is the preferred method of teaching people, I am not even sure that it could be legitimate. How could there be this one way that every one is guaranteed to get in if you say these exact words? Doesn't that smack far more of magic than religion, let alone relationship and life transformation? Is that all there is, admitting and believing? Could that alone get you into heaven? Does it even matter, in that case? Is it possible that these young kids could really even understand what is meant by sin? And, there were two kids in my group who went off with the volunteers to accept Jesus, but I feel almost positive that one of them was just going because his friend was going. He didn't even raise his hand until he looked up and saw his friend going off, and then suddenly he wanted to become a Christian. How could that be a functional method of inducting people into the church? Didn't Jesus himself say something about counting the cost?
And yet, at the same time, I don't want to say that Christianity is not for children, that it is something that is only for those who can grasp it rationally. And it seems that there should be something simpler for children, perhaps simpler is not the right word, but obviously you can't really explain anything to a kid the same way you explain it to an adult. But I feel like the way that you would explain something to a kid is actually very revelatory, because it shows you what you hold to be most important in whatever you're trying to get across. You can't really hide your agenda among complexity the way you can when talking to adults (academics in particular). I guess what I'm trying to get at is that it's all very well and good to say let's throw out the Roman's road, ABC's, little formulaic method of salvation, but what is the alternative, for adults or for children? Once again, I have no answers. And you, think about this seriously! No fortune cookie friends, no easy answers!
Let me know when you've solved it. We'll have a race. Winner gets a ticket to heaven...
S.
Speaking of communication, I wanted to take a second to say how sad I feel that I haven't had sufficient time to write to those of you who have already written. The week that I got back I was trying to get settled and then this whole past week I've been doing VBS at church. I thought that I would have more time to get things done in the evening, but I was completely exhausted every evening. So, I have grieved in my heart about not being able to reply to any of your wonderful communications. I will worn you right now that the next week does not look promising. We're heading out on vacation tomorrow and we won't be back for a week. But, don't feel bad if you think I'm neglecting you. I'm also not finding a job, not writing my support letter for missions, and not writing the thank you notes for the profs who helped me with my honors project which wrapped up in April or some of those who gave me graduation money. Yeesh. How am I gonna relax with all this hanging over my head, I'll never know.
So how was the VBS? Well, it was...something else. I feel like any experience you end by getting a cold/flu/allegy thing is an experience where some things should have been different. I have to say, somehow it was really, really difficult this week. The most difficult ArtReach yet, in fact. Everything seemed to be so hard, just getting out of bed and going in the morning seemed to be difficult. The kids were difficult, staying up and cheerful all the time was difficult, being what felt like the only person willing to be a disciplinarian was difficult. I swear, sometimes I felt more like a prison warden than a kid's camp worker. It's hard to enjoy yourself when you feel like you're just there to keep control.
This might sound a little strange, but the hardest day for me was definitely Thursday, the whole salvation message, gospel preaching, sports themed tracts day. It brought a lot of questions to the fore for me, about the nature of salvation and how it should be presented to kids. Ever seen the documentary Jesus Camp? It wasn't like that this week, but I feel like that movie is so important because it is a stark reminder of how easily children can be manipulated. Maybe we have this idea that they are young and pure and innocent which enables them to accept Christ because they haven't got our barriers. Maybe it's easy for them because if you put an idea in their head they want to go with it, they want the pat on the head, the comfortable feeling of having done what's expected. And then there's the whole content issue, the old ABC's of salvation that we tote out year after year with tons of people and have printed on God only knows how many pieces of literature. Is that stupid thing even biblical? I am so far from thinking that this is the preferred method of teaching people, I am not even sure that it could be legitimate. How could there be this one way that every one is guaranteed to get in if you say these exact words? Doesn't that smack far more of magic than religion, let alone relationship and life transformation? Is that all there is, admitting and believing? Could that alone get you into heaven? Does it even matter, in that case? Is it possible that these young kids could really even understand what is meant by sin? And, there were two kids in my group who went off with the volunteers to accept Jesus, but I feel almost positive that one of them was just going because his friend was going. He didn't even raise his hand until he looked up and saw his friend going off, and then suddenly he wanted to become a Christian. How could that be a functional method of inducting people into the church? Didn't Jesus himself say something about counting the cost?
And yet, at the same time, I don't want to say that Christianity is not for children, that it is something that is only for those who can grasp it rationally. And it seems that there should be something simpler for children, perhaps simpler is not the right word, but obviously you can't really explain anything to a kid the same way you explain it to an adult. But I feel like the way that you would explain something to a kid is actually very revelatory, because it shows you what you hold to be most important in whatever you're trying to get across. You can't really hide your agenda among complexity the way you can when talking to adults (academics in particular). I guess what I'm trying to get at is that it's all very well and good to say let's throw out the Roman's road, ABC's, little formulaic method of salvation, but what is the alternative, for adults or for children? Once again, I have no answers. And you, think about this seriously! No fortune cookie friends, no easy answers!
Let me know when you've solved it. We'll have a race. Winner gets a ticket to heaven...
S.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Quest
So, I have been trying and trying to think of an e-mail address that I can be satisfied with, one that is creative and catchy and uniquely me. I've come up with a couple ideas, but every time I think of something that I can be satisfied with, it's already taken! Annoyance is within me...
I only have until August to come up with something. And, knowing me, I will not rest until I have discovered something absolutely perfect. Stupid g-mail. Cramping my style...
I only have until August to come up with something. And, knowing me, I will not rest until I have discovered something absolutely perfect. Stupid g-mail. Cramping my style...
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Clean Sweep?
This wild weekend was the great garage sale of '07. Heather and her friend were doing most of the organization since they're planning on going on a missions trip to England and they're still trying to raise money. (speaking of which, keep checking the mail for an opportunity to support ME on my missions trip to Nigeria!) This is going to really shock you, but a garage sale, outside, in June in Texas, is not the greatest idea anyone's ever had. Surprisingly enough, it gets hot...really, really hot. We actually ended up quitting by two o'clock each day, which is new for me in my career in garage sales. So, my sister skipped out on the second day, leaving me and my mom to hold down the fort. We had a lot of hispanic people visit us, and the strange thing that I noticed is that no one would come for about an hour, then all of a sudden like four cars would pull up and a bunch of people would pile out. We sold a fair amount of stuff, although there was at least an equally fair amount of stuff that didn't sell.
It was good to clean out the house, whether the stuff goes to goodwill or we're able to sell it. Come home to find out that there's nowhere to put the stuff from school because of all the old stuff that never got moved out...of my room or the rest of the house. I don't think I've gone through most of my stuff since before I left for college, so I've come to find that there's all this crap that I shouldn't even own. I haven't lived here officially for four years, so I guess I could just come home from school and dump more stuff here without having to worry about what to keep and what to get rid of. So I feel like I don't even have room to open a box, let alone unpack one.
There has been a quandry for me since I've come home, what to keep and what to throw away. There has been so much stuff accumulated in the course of my lifetime that really wouldn't have a place in any sort of apartment I would have in the future. Stuff that doesn't even have sentimental value, it's just stuff. Why keep it? So I am going to try to get rid of everything I can bear to part with. I believe in simplicity, although it's hard for me to understand what that means. I generally spend most of my time falling to one extreme or the other, asceticism and guilt or indulgence and rationalizing. How to negotiate the fine line? I...uh, don't know. Any thoughts, beyond the life purging garage sale in which nobody buys your stuff.
It was good to clean out the house, whether the stuff goes to goodwill or we're able to sell it. Come home to find out that there's nowhere to put the stuff from school because of all the old stuff that never got moved out...of my room or the rest of the house. I don't think I've gone through most of my stuff since before I left for college, so I've come to find that there's all this crap that I shouldn't even own. I haven't lived here officially for four years, so I guess I could just come home from school and dump more stuff here without having to worry about what to keep and what to get rid of. So I feel like I don't even have room to open a box, let alone unpack one.
There has been a quandry for me since I've come home, what to keep and what to throw away. There has been so much stuff accumulated in the course of my lifetime that really wouldn't have a place in any sort of apartment I would have in the future. Stuff that doesn't even have sentimental value, it's just stuff. Why keep it? So I am going to try to get rid of everything I can bear to part with. I believe in simplicity, although it's hard for me to understand what that means. I generally spend most of my time falling to one extreme or the other, asceticism and guilt or indulgence and rationalizing. How to negotiate the fine line? I...uh, don't know. Any thoughts, beyond the life purging garage sale in which nobody buys your stuff.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
And the one who has eyes to see...
Tonight I was out walking for just a wee smidgen of time. It was very good for my soul. Mostly, since coming home, I have felt rather aimless, like I had a whole plethora of things to do, but none of them really mattered in the grand scheme of things, so why bother. It is good to have quiet time to reorient my mind and remember that my life is more than watching TV while waiting for the Big Adventure to start. One of the things I already miss about Houghton is how cut off from nature I feel here. There are no woods, no creeks to splash in, no wildflowers. But it has been good to discover what a vital thing it is to me to connect to the nature that is here. To touch and name the plants and trees, to smell the flowers that are close enough to the sidewalk that I most likely won't get accused of trespassing, to see and hear the birds, without whom the world would feel such a dead place. It is a necessary part of my life to notice things. People laugh because I do things so slowly, from walking to making a sandwich. But I feel like everything I do could be so rich, and becomes rich, when I stop and invest myself fully in the experience. I want to see everything, smell everything, whether it's the mustard on my toasted bread or the jasminy-flowers down by that person's mailbox. I want to remember the lights on that porch, that broken bird's egg, that pine cone. I want to feel the difference in the wind when the weather's changing, to outrun the storm cloud and yet not fear the rain.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
The Long Road Home
The Great American Road Trip has ended. My mom keeps asking if it was everything I expected, which was hard to say because I'm not really sure what I was expecting. But it was a great trip, I am so glad that I had the chance to do something on my own. I think that was the best part, to be able to plan the trip on my own, to be alone, to prove that I can be independent. To drive through a storm and hydroplane and not let the car get out of control. To change the CD, or plug in my i-pod without crashing the car. To drive with my knees while I put my hair up. To have the windows down as much as I wanted and the music up as loud as I wanted. I feel like a long road trip is also just the kind of thing that one ought to do once graduated from college. Isn't that in the great American dream somewhere? I wanted to have time to spend alone, to think and process, although I feel like there wasn't as much of that as I expected. If I have learned anything in the past few months, it's that although you can resist repressing your emotions, you really can't force them to surface when you think you're ready to handle them. They hide. They resist control. They'll let you face them when they're ready, and not before. Besides which, how do you begin to understand such a huge change? College is over for good. I can never go back to that life again. Hmmmm...words, words, words.
As to the trip itself, there's not much to say and there are a million things to say that I could never record. How do you put down hundreds of miles of our great nations landscape into a few electronic lines? I know that my words will not be sufficient. Well, I think Pennsylvania and Ohio win for the most construction zones and the most roadkill. I think Kentucky was my favorite traveling over all, not at all what I expected: horse farms and low hills and the whole bit. It was actually a lot more big wooded hills and misty valleys. The whole state looks pretty much like my idea of Sherwood Forest. I got stuck in inexplicable traffic outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, which is not my idea of the most happening town. All of a sudden we were locked up, not moving, bumper to bumper, for about half an hour, and then all of a sudden we started moving again. So, what, a herd of cows perhaps? Big storms outside of Nashville and then another classic Texas thunderstorm once I got back in the state. Way to welcome me home, Mother Nature.
Now the part that everyone has been waiting to hear about, the shady Motel 6 that I ended up staying in. I was going to be staying in a hostel in Nashville, but I ended up staying with a family friend unexpectedly, which was great. So I pulled in to the Motel 6, which was in a fairly nice neighborhood. The first thing that happened was that I ended up being in line for a very long time behind a very angry contractor who was trying to rent about 10 rooms for guys he was working a job with. He kept pulling out his cell phone and swearing at his guys because they couldn't find the motel or because they accidentally checked into the wrong one. By the time they were through working on all the paperwork and getting the right rooms (smoking or non-smoking? first floor or second floor? double-room or single?) I had been waiting there for about 20 minutes. When I finally got to the room, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I have learned that at Motel 6, it hardly matters whether you choose smoking or non-smoking because I feel like the room would smell the same regardless. I was on the first floor, and the door opened right onto the parking lot, which made me rather nervous in thinking about spending the night there...fast asleep...vulnerable and helpless...yeah. The other brilliant thing I did was spend the evening watching Mission Impossible II on the TV. This was kind of dumb to begin with because I haven't even seen the first Mission Impossible, but I was bored and everything in the vicinity was closed at 8:00 at night. Now, keep in mind, I don't usually have a problem with scary movies. I can pretty much watch whatever I want without being troubled. Unfortunately, I did not take into account that I was staying all by myself in a strange place that was kind of creepy to begin with into the bargain. So, for the first time in my life, I found myself really kind of wanting to just turn the movie off, but feeling trapped because if I didn't find out how it ended, I would be haunted for the rest of my days, wondering if Tom Cruise's little woman died from that chimera virus. I made it through to the end, but I feel pretty well satisfied not watching any more Mission Impossible for awhile.
Until the next adventure (and it won't be long!),
S.
As to the trip itself, there's not much to say and there are a million things to say that I could never record. How do you put down hundreds of miles of our great nations landscape into a few electronic lines? I know that my words will not be sufficient. Well, I think Pennsylvania and Ohio win for the most construction zones and the most roadkill. I think Kentucky was my favorite traveling over all, not at all what I expected: horse farms and low hills and the whole bit. It was actually a lot more big wooded hills and misty valleys. The whole state looks pretty much like my idea of Sherwood Forest. I got stuck in inexplicable traffic outside of Little Rock, Arkansas, which is not my idea of the most happening town. All of a sudden we were locked up, not moving, bumper to bumper, for about half an hour, and then all of a sudden we started moving again. So, what, a herd of cows perhaps? Big storms outside of Nashville and then another classic Texas thunderstorm once I got back in the state. Way to welcome me home, Mother Nature.
Now the part that everyone has been waiting to hear about, the shady Motel 6 that I ended up staying in. I was going to be staying in a hostel in Nashville, but I ended up staying with a family friend unexpectedly, which was great. So I pulled in to the Motel 6, which was in a fairly nice neighborhood. The first thing that happened was that I ended up being in line for a very long time behind a very angry contractor who was trying to rent about 10 rooms for guys he was working a job with. He kept pulling out his cell phone and swearing at his guys because they couldn't find the motel or because they accidentally checked into the wrong one. By the time they were through working on all the paperwork and getting the right rooms (smoking or non-smoking? first floor or second floor? double-room or single?) I had been waiting there for about 20 minutes. When I finally got to the room, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I have learned that at Motel 6, it hardly matters whether you choose smoking or non-smoking because I feel like the room would smell the same regardless. I was on the first floor, and the door opened right onto the parking lot, which made me rather nervous in thinking about spending the night there...fast asleep...vulnerable and helpless...yeah. The other brilliant thing I did was spend the evening watching Mission Impossible II on the TV. This was kind of dumb to begin with because I haven't even seen the first Mission Impossible, but I was bored and everything in the vicinity was closed at 8:00 at night. Now, keep in mind, I don't usually have a problem with scary movies. I can pretty much watch whatever I want without being troubled. Unfortunately, I did not take into account that I was staying all by myself in a strange place that was kind of creepy to begin with into the bargain. So, for the first time in my life, I found myself really kind of wanting to just turn the movie off, but feeling trapped because if I didn't find out how it ended, I would be haunted for the rest of my days, wondering if Tom Cruise's little woman died from that chimera virus. I made it through to the end, but I feel pretty well satisfied not watching any more Mission Impossible for awhile.
Until the next adventure (and it won't be long!),
S.
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