On the Road Again

I spent the last three days driving a woman's car from Seattle to Denver. She's relocating to Vale, CO but didn't want to drive there, so she hired me to transport her car. Being the somewhat adventurous woman that I am, I figured it'd be a bit of a gas. I'd see some parts of the country I hadn't seen before and it'd be an interesting experience. I didn't plan how many miles I'd drive each day exactly, or where I'd stay each night. I barely plan my life, why would I plan a three day car trip. I knew I needed to be at the Denver airport at 11.00 a.m. on Friday. What more did I need to plan?

Somewhere between Pendelton, OR and Ogdan, UT I began to realize there was a reason I hadn't been to this neck of the woods til now. After half a day driving through the desolate sage brush country of Eastern Washington, I landed in Pendelton ready for a comfortable bed, a hot meal and some exploration. It was nearing on 7.00 when I rode into town and the entire place was buttoned up tight as a drum by then. I found a cheap, yet comfortable motel, "America's Best Value Inn," and wandered out to find that hot meal. After a satisfying Mexican meal I asked the waitress if there was a grocery or drug store nearby I could walk to. She explained that her town only had a Safeway and a Walmart and they were both very far. I could not walk there. I decided to take a meander around myself. I needed the exercise after all day driving and the Mexican food needed a chance to settle. It wasn't all that far before I ran into an Albertson's.

The next day I headed out in good weather toward La Grande, pronouncing it in my head with a Mexican accent, trilling the 'r' a bit and emphasising the 'e'. I hit some serious fog going over "Dead Man's Pass". The truckers and I were creeping along gripping the steering wheel. Well, I was gripping mine, I can't speak for the experienced truckers. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read "View Point" and had a tinge of annoyance. Sure, I finally come across something worth viewing and I can't even see the hood of my car. The creeping went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only about 45 minutes or so. When we get out of the fog and back into daylight, I drive into La Grande for refueling and a latte. I'm actually in search of a Starbucks which I find a bit humorous considering the size of these towns. Unlike good 'ol Seattle with a Starbucks, Tully's or Seattle's Best on every corner, the rest of the country pretty much serves coffee from a pot that's been on the burner far too long.

While entering the town, I switch the radio station to an audible one and hear the announcer talking about La Grande and he's pronouncing it like, well...a hill billy. La Grand- with a real emphasize on the AND. I laugh a little at my assumption of how the town would be called. And I laugh a little more when I find a Starbucks. Yes, inside the Safeway store. Yea! Pumpkin Spice Latte and hit the road.

Approximately five hundred miles of brown sage brush and rolling lifeless hills of McCain Country later, I land in Ogdan, UT. For some reason I had the idea this would be an actual town. It was a suburb at best with a couple of four lane roads lined with fast food joints and chain restaurants. My slumber choices were Motel 6 or The Royal Inn. Believe it or not the Motel 6 looked the least seedy. I was starving by now and wanted a hot sit down meal before crashing for the night. Clearly there was to be no nightlife or exploration in this town. My sit down dining choices consisted of Chili's or Applebee's. I flipped a mental coin and chose Applebee's. I'd never actually eaten at either. It was about how I'd expected. Dark green carpet, chairs with wheels on them, those hanging stained glass lamps over every table and a lot of poor food choices. I ordered off the "Weight Watcher's" menu and had a grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was hot and filled me up. Except for the satisfying part, mission accomplished.

I then headed on to my Motel 6 experience. The last time I stayed at a Motel 6 I think I was about 18 when I snuck off with my boyfriend. Not much has changed except the price. Instead of $13.99 the room rate was $43.99 plus tax. I paid the extra $2.99 for internet, but then it didn't work, so got a refund. Upon taking stock of the room, I realized what I got at the "Value Inn" for an extra $20.00- shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, coffee, microwave, refrigerator, king sized bed, hair dryer, and internet connection. It was my feeling that Motel 6 prided themselves on a clean sparse environment for which to sleep, shower and leave promptly in the a.m. No problem since that was my plan anyway. I actually slept quite well. But then after 9 hours in the car anyone should sleep well.

Next day consisted of 8-9 hours of ...you guessed it, more sage brush, more brown fields of nothing as far as the eye could see. By now I'm hoping my 'employer' doesn't have an Obama sticker on the back bumper or I'm going to get shot for sure. I'm starting to get a bit rummy by this point. Other than my one proper meal per day at dinner time, I've been sustaining on a diet of car snacks: cheese and crackers, trail mix, a couple of apples and some supposedly healthy fruit snack moms guiltlessly feed their children that are really nothing more than candy. I've listened to more country music and Christian stations than I ever knew existed. I think we might have one of each in Seattle. I heard young country, fresh country, old country, best country. It was getting to the point where I actually knew the words to some of the songs by this point and was singing along. I was also making up stories about my fellow drivers. Each day you'd get into a clump and drive with the same people all day long. I'd pass Ms. Florida, then stop at a rest stop, get back on the freeway and Ms. Florida would soon pass me. It would go on like this all day. Where is Ms. Florida headed? She has a mattress in the backseat. Is she moving back to Florida? Oh, there goes Mr. and Mrs. Utah for the third time today. They are going east. For Thanksgiving maybe? See the grand kids? Then, of course, there are the truckers hauling who knows what in those trailers. More stories to invent. Oh, here's my favorite country song, yet again.

I arrived in Golden, outside of Denver Thursday night and stayed at my cousin's house before meeting my car's owner at the airport in the a.m. It was a good drive. The roads were clear, the weather optimal and I got here safely. Would I do it again? You betcha.

Forget Paris

And Prague, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Athens. I don't actually need to forget Paris, or any of my other favorite travel destinations, but I need to find another way to remember them.

I seem to have lost track of time. I'll be telling a story of my six month sabbatical when I traipsed off to Europe after my divorce in 2002. The six months that turned into three plus years. Someone will ask me "when did you return to Seattle?" Ummm, errr, eh hem...two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago? Already? How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday (or maybe a year ago) I landed back in Seattle, set up a "temporary" apartment where minimal wall hangings have been hung, and told friends and family I'd be out of this city in six months. Bags would be packed and I'd be off to explore new territories, delving into another adventure. Or at the very least, setting up camp in a new city.

I'm reminded daily of my past European days and how long ago they actually were. The pajama bottoms I bought in Prague in a very cold 2002 winter are beginning to fray around the waistband. These flannels got me through some horrifically cold nights abroad. My well loved bikini from the Greek Island of Skiathos purchased the summer of 2003 has faded from its vibrant royal to a dull sea soaked drab, blotchy, bluish tone. The funky stylish shoes I bought in Amsterdam for New Years Eve 2004 have walked equal distance from the Netherlands to Seattle. I'm still wearing them, but they really should retire. To be honest, I'll probably squeak one more season out of them, though. The red Haviannas (Lisbon, Spring 2004) are still some of the most comfortable flip flops in my collection - and I do have quite the collection. However, they are beginning to show some serious signs of wear and tear. The lining of the winter coat bought in Turkey November 2005 has long since torn and I've lost my keys or other precious objects through the holes in the pockets more times than I can count. The zipper finally broke altogether last season and I was forced to bid it a farewell.

And my most coveted item, the jean jacket given to me in Prague by my favorite travel buddy the spring of 2003, is held together by mere threads. The pockets boast flag pins of the places I lived during that wonderful and memorable period of my life. I can't wash the jacket or it will disintegrate completely. However, if I wear it any longer, my Seattle friends will pick it off my body like a vulture picking at a weak crow. I'm sure they can hardly stand to see me donning that garment at this stage. I try not to wear it, but sometimes it's the only thing that seems to suit my mood. The fabric is so soft at this point, the comfort is warming and the memories it brings are soothing.

I guess it's time to bid ado to many of these old European garments and look ahead to the future. It's okay to keep the stories of my life abroad, tell a tale or two now and then when appropriate. But clinging to the scraps of threadbare fabric can't be healthy for a woman trying to move into the next phase of her wonderful life and stop re-living the last episode via her clothes.

Plenty Off Ish

As much as there has been a certain amount of synergy happening in my life, it hasn't been in the area of romance, that's for sure.

I had my first date with a guy from Plenty of Fish (a.k.a. Plenty Off Ish) last night. This guy contacted me first. Then he suggested we meet. This was about a month ago. Due to a variety of circumstances we haven't been able to actually hook up since our first interaction on the internet.

Last night at nearly Five Oh Oh, I get a text message...yeah a text message...asking if I'd like to join him for dinner. I didn't actually see the message until a little after five and I didn't reply right away. I had to hem and haw and stew about it for a few moments. 1. a text message? 2. at five o'clock in the evening? 3. a last minute invitation for dinner? 4. how soon can I be ready? I was sort of in the middle of something 5. I was planning to go to yoga. Do I want to forfeit my yoga? 6. OK, we've been trying to meet, let's just go with this and be spontaneous!

So I call him back, not text. He doesn't answer. I leave a voice message. He calls me back and asks me where would be good for dinner. He asks me to dinner and then doesn't have anything in mind? I get really tired of always having to do the work when it comes to dating.

We were discussing a good meeting spot when I almost said "wherever is convenient for you" and stopped myself short. No, no, no. There I go being all accommodating. I'm the one without a car. He asked me. Let him come to me. And he did come to my neighborhood. I suggested a variety of restaurants, he picked one and we met there. Perfect.

The man was pleasant enough. Isn't that just how you'd want a date to describe you, "pleasant enough?" At the end of the meal (which he paid for), he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee, so we did. He nodded to his car parked across the street obviously making a point to work it into the conversation somehow. I glanced over and said it was nice. However, honestly, I had no idea what it was, but it did look nice. I was looking at it from the side and had no clue of the make or model. I'm not into cars anymore. I used to be years ago. Now I don't even own a car, so I'm really not into them. If they have wheels and an engine, I think they're fantastic. So I fessed up and asked him what it was. He laughed at me and told me it was a Mercedes. He also said it was a very rare model. So I committed the ultimate faux pas by not knowing what the car was and failing to show just how impressed I was. I forgot about men and their cars. Oh well. I think by that point, we knew we were not a match anyway. Yup, that's dating. I'll keep at it.

The Day After

There's nothing left to say. It's all been said. It's all been filmed, photographed, recorded and U-Tubed.

All I can add at this point is a big 'ol "Whoooo Hoooo!"

Serendipity, Synchronicity, Serenity Now!

Lately my life has taken on a state of synchronization. I began my life coaching seminar with Landmark Education a few weeks ago. The first session was all about "getting in the game." The Sunday following that session, I attended church at the invitation of an old friend I recently reconnected with. The topic of the sermon was also all about getting in the game. Huh. That's curious, I thought.

The next week the Landmark session focused more on 'creating possibilities' for ourselves. I went to church with my friend again the following Sunday and what do you suppose was the topic of the day's sermon? Absolutely. Creating dreams, setting goals and going for them in life.

By now I'm wondering if the preachers are somehow affiliated with the Landmark Education organization?

I've also been re-reading The Secret, which focuses on creating the life you want. Again, a reiteration of the Landmark Education mission.

AND I was already in the process of applying for grad school at Seattle Pacific University (a Christian university) when my friend invited me to her church, a church that seems to genuinely resonate with me. No, I'm not a member yet...I'm just being open and checking it out. Trying it on...seeing if this is for me or not.

As if that isn't enough serendipity to make me aware of what might be going on here, it turns out that the friend I've been going to church with, has the same business idea as I've been discussing with several people the last few weeks. A discussion of our dreams over coffee Sunday evening revealed we are a match! We are exploring a partnership. Yea for us. Now for the serenity of feeling like I know where I'm headed...or, the chaos of starting up something new, yet again.

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Halloween is such a great holiday. A day to dress ourselves up in our alter-egos. No one else can really convince you of a costume you should wear. It has to resonate with you somehow. Someone will say "hey, you should be a (fill-in here)" and even if it's a great idea for someone, it may not be a great idea for you. The costume has to speak to you.

The Halloween pre-func is some of the best part of the whole night. I went to my friend's house where we had dinner, drank wine and passed out candy to trick or treaters, while we helped each other into our getups before heading out to the parties. I opted for the Sugar Plum Fairy and my pal was a jilted murdered bride back from the grave. Her makeup consisted of the ghoulish sort while mine was glitter and sparkles. We were definitely the odd couple.

The number one costume this season was Sarah Palin and we ran across a few. The best one was the host of our first party. His interpretation was quite humorous given his size 14 shoes. Another fellow was John McCain with a Sarah blow up doll strapped on in classic BJ form. Disgusting? Sure. Creative and funny? Absolutely.

Our second stop was a bit quieter. It was nearly 1.00 by then so maybe it was slowing down. We didn't stay long before heading out to party #3 where there was a live band, dancing in the living room and a lively crowd.

All the usual suspects were out, pirate, astronaut, Elvis, skeleton, Santa Claus, Kermit and Miss Piggy, cowgirls and goblins. One thing I realized, Halloween is not a good man meeting holiday. Everyone is so into character you really have no idea who you're talking to. But it was a fun night, we partied til the cows came home. Or, until we came home anyway. Didn't actually see any cows come to think of it.