Monthly Archives: October 2006

The Cross-Country Move

So Much to Write About

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So little time to write! This morning, at least. We are off soon for another fun visit with friends, and I still haven’t had a chance to write about our marvelous visit with the Edmisten clan, who (amazing, this!!) drove four hours to meet us in Kansas the other day. Four hours. Each way. I mean, really. A. MAZE. ING.

And then there are all the stories and snippets from the trip, the ones too long to type into a PDA. Soon, soon. (I am promising myself. Must chronicle travels or else explode into teeny tiny bits of untold tales. Story shrapnel?)

Of course I’ll be forever in Alice’s debt (again) for taking notes on all the things I babbled into my wireless headset on the drive. She is the best kind of friend, the kind who not only doesn’t MIND if you interrupt her on the phone to maniacally shriek LOOK LOOK GIRLS A BURROWING OWL ON THE FENCEPOST OH RATS YOU MISSED IT!!!!! I’m sorry, Alice, you were saying?, she even writes down what you’re shrieking about. She also says far nicer things about me than I deserve, but you can just skip over those parts. She is totally biased, and we should all just be very frank about that. Whenever she uses words like "descriptive," "spontaneous," and "adventurous," you should substitute "longwinded," "flaky," and "nuts." Just so you know.

On a totally unrelated note (except that it’s about WRITING and see how cleverly I have tied it to the title of this post?), the Washington Post has an article today about cursive handwriting: how keyboarding is turning cursive into a dying art, and how many college applicants today can barely read cursive much less write a legible hand, and how there seems to be a link between cognitive development and cursive handwriting. Most of the homeschoolers I know do teach cursive (or, in my case, throw a cursive workbook at an eight-year-old girl and leave her alone with some gel pens, because all those swirls are ooh, so pretty!), so I was interested to read that few public schools spend much time on it nowadays.

Family Adventures

Ain’t That America

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Somewhere in the middle of Kansas, I called Scott to say we’d be stopping for lunch in either Wakeeney or Ogallah, I wasn’t sure which. He called back and got my voice mail. Left me a message saying Wakeeney has a population of something like 1650 souls. Ogallah? Population 162. By the time I heard his message we’d already driven through Ogallah and hadn’t seen enough evidence of human existence to sustain sixteen people, much less a hundred and sixty.

I stopped in Wakeeney instead and discovered that our lunch options consisted of McDonald’s (again) or the Phillips 66 convenience store. Both of which fine businesses, by the way, are to be found under the same roof. I guess rooves are even more scarce than people in Wakeeney. (Also, and this is important information, do not make the mistake of assuming you can refill your gas tank at the Phillips 66 side of the store. Every single pump is out of order.)

Approximately 300 of Wakeeney’s 1650 citizens were crammed into the McDonald’s side of the building, shooting the breeze over Big Macs. I went to what I thought was the end of the line at the nearest register, but it turned out I’d unwittingly cut in front of an old gentleman who was standing a little to the side, leaving a free space for traffic to the restrooms. I apologized and began to herd my brood to the REAL back of the line, but he waved us back to our former place.

"You go ahead," he said laconically, adjusting the brim of his (and I am NOT making this up) John Deere cap. "I’ve got more time than money."

My heart filled instantly and completely with love for him. I wanted to be his neighbor and invite him over for a Sunday dinner of ham and mashed potatoes with my pan gravy, which is the only dish at which I truly excel. My gravy is to die for. I’d have let him leave his tractor cap on at the table. And I’d give him cobbler for dessert, because I also make a darn good cobbler, if you don’t mind the cherries coming out of a can.

All the rest of the day, as I watched the curves of prairie undulate past our windows, I was thinking of that old man and what he said. I’ve got more time than money. Me too, mister, me too. It brought me back, as everything brings me back, to my understanding of what motherhood is about. What I can give these children is my time. Time. I think about these long hours we’ve spent together in the car, singing Tom Chapin songs and eating sour cherry balls, and I’m so glad we chose this option for getting ourselves across the country, the route that takes more time than money.

The Cross-Country Move

Oh Give Me a Home Where My Phone Doesn’t Roam

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We’re in Colorado! No web access all day yesterday, but loads of fun. Really. The Prairie Museum of Art & History in Colby, Kansas: HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Super fun even in cold rain. More on that later.

More on everything later! For now: Pike’s Peak or Bust! OK, not really. We aren’t going to Colorado Springs. Grandma’s House or Bust! Only a few hours to go before we descend upon my parents in a noisy, rowdy, riled-up bunch. You sure you’re ready for this, Mom?

Uncategorized

No Catholic Church in Boonville MO

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Looks like we’ll have to head to KS City for Mass this morning. Might also be able to squeeze in a quick hello with some friends there, and then it’s on to Kansas and an overnight rendezvous with Karen E! Color me a-cited!

I think it was over at Lilting House that I was rhapsodizing about that fine invention, the breakfast buffet. I forgot the best part of yesterday’s morning repast. The food was in the hotel lobby, the tables in a small adjoining room. I filled Beanie’s plate and told her to go find a place for us to sit. When I entered the dining room with my own full plate, I was surprised to spot Bean chowing down at a table occupied by a large party of senior citizens. Everyone at EVERY table was grinning with amusement at our happy Bean and her hard-boiled egg.

“Oh!” I cried. I had to laugh. “I told her to find a seat. Guess I didn’t specify AT AN EMPTY TABLE!”

The Cross-Country Move

The Complimentary Breakfast Buffet May Be Man’s Finest Achievement

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Belgian waffles! Sausage and bacon! All you can eat for the five of us who eat table food, included in the price of the room. Gotta love that. We are breakfasting our way across America. It was the Ramada in Charlestown WV that had (as icing on the cake) blacklights above the table. The kids loved seeing their milk turn blue.
This morning we’re in Dale, Indiana. I swear parts of southern IN look like the Shire. Except, you know, for the Denny’s billboards.
(BTW, no worries about the pinkeye. My awesome VA doc got a scrip phoned in to the Rite Aid in Winchester, KY. I’ll be fine.)

The Cross-Country Move

Today in Brief

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One case of conjunctivitis, two Belgian waffles, three states, four stuffy noses, five chocolate milks, six “Are they all yours?” queries, seven pieces of salt water taffy, eight choruses of Big Rock Candy Mountain, nine bridges, and I literally just fell asleep while trying to think of ten, so it’s time to quit thinking and go to sleep.