Random in Oregon

* My writing group is as wonderful as I remember it. If I had that kind of support in Texas I'd be glued to the keyboard, I think. Now I just have to figure out how to feel the love 2100 miles away.

* It's been very difficult for me to make calls and re-cement old friendships this time. I'm certain that has to do with my mother's death.

* Young Girl had two marvelous sleep-away camp experiences, one near the coast and another in the mountains. She's tangibly more grown up, but in a good way.

* I leave to drive home this Saturday. I'm going to shoot for four nights on the road because I need to be back for Young Girl's Upper Elementary parent orientation on Wednesday night. But, after all, safety first.....as long as I'm home for YG's first day of Upper El on Thursday I'll be fine.

* I miss Large Dog. After a streak of destructive digging behavior, involving my dear hosting friend's yard and camellia bushes, I had to board him at a local vet's. I'll pick him up on Saturday morning, after I deliver YG and The Man to the airport and start my own journey home.

* And, about home...I'm ready to be there.

Somewhere in the Panhandle....

During my drive across the Texas Panhandle, in a tiny town whose name I can’t remember, I entered into an interesting conversation. I’d stopped for gas and something to drink, and when I approached the counter to pay I overheard the clerk and another woman discussing their health insurance woes.

This is a subject dear to my heart (The Man and I are both self-employed, so we pay through the wazoo for coverage), so I began to commiserate. “This may make me unpopular in this part of the country,” I said (expecting cold shoulders), “but I’m really hopeful that President Obama will improve things for all of us.

“No,” they replied in near-unison, “we’re all about Obama.”

Lesson: appearance can be deceiving and hope lives everywhere.

Dispatch from SLC

Some random musings from the cross-country drive:


• What do you do when you pull out of your driveway to log 2200 miles, turn on your radio, and get NOTHING? That means no NPR, no random Tejano, no books on iPod. You decide to be in the moment, as deep introspection interferes with driving acuity.

• The taste of fear: being in the middle of the pack of cars and trucks driving 85 mph on I-25, even when it’s down to one lane.

• Even though the amber waves of grain have been harvested to frankly unattractive stubble, the purple mountains’ majesty is out in full force, last lingerings of snow on top.

• Breathtaking? Two huge thunderstorm cells outlining a clear alley when you turn west into Wyoming. Alas, the alley did not stay clear; a truly horrendous thunderstorm (and, as a Texan, I’ve seen my share) with an active lightning display, followed by pea-soup fog on a twisty bit of I-80, makes the last room at the overpriced Best Western look mighty good indeed.

• Little America is still scary. I've never seen so many blond children in one place. Never.

• The Hotel Monaco Salt Lake City is featuring white sangria in its fabled Wine Hour. Yum.

Kelly and Kaiser hit the road....

If you're interested in a thoughtful reflection on my day's drive, click here.

I've been on the road a solid eight hours, so I'm going to postpone a post until I'm more rested.

I will say that the grass is drier and the small towns more boarded up than on my last pass through.

Trip Prep, One

I began, today, the ritual Sorting of the Clothes.

First stop? Melange Mountain, the stratified heap of miscellany in my dressing area. I recovered a few missing items, uncovered two forgotten purchases, and discovered many things that Simply Will No Longer Do.

Next stop? The Oregon Pile, where I re-heap the clothes I may need for my trip, including long sleeved items and light jackets that make me sweat on sight, even in my air conditioned rooms.

Final Stop? Laundry Junction, where I de-dirt the delicates and soap the sturdy.

Tomorrow actual packing begins!

Hovering

...is how I feel. Since Mother died the 29th, we've had the memorial service (the 5th), the burial (the 12th), and we have probate tomorrow.

Then it's on to executor stuff.

I promise I'll return, most likely while on the road to Oregon, beginning June 24th.

Requiscat in Pace

My mother died around 11 p.m. Friday night.

Many thanks to all of you who have surrounded me with love and support throughout this difficult period.