354/365

(DPP20- O fair New Mexico, we love, we love you so...)

So, just to be clear, I basically am eating my way through New Mexico.
First stop, Clovis, New Mexico, at the Java Junction for a latte. We figured that the money was better spent on coffee than the Rock and Roll Museum. I only second-guessed myself for a moment.

We had our first green chile cheeseburger in Moriarity, not even waiting to get to Albuquerque. And green chile enchiladas followed that same evening. With sopapillas, of course. Only a New Mexico can appreciate the delicacy of a fresh sopapilla dripping with honey alongside your chicken enchiladas drenched in green chile sauce.

The days since have included green chile stew, pizza with green chile, posole, green chile chicken noodle soup, tamales, tres leches cake, another green chile cheeseburger, more green chile stew, more posole, biscochitos, and fresh tortillas. It started slow but eventually I fell completely off the Healthy Living wagon.

Dare I say, totally worth it. I've lived a lot of places, and I'll wager New Mexican food against any cuisine in the world.
O fair New Mexico, I'll miss, I'll miss you so...

353/365

(DPP19- West Texas! You put on a great sunset show.)

When I was growing up, I could look across Albuquerque, over the city from the Sandia foothills to the West Mesa and beyond, sometimes all the way to the Mt. Taylor stratovolcano nearly 100 miles west. I'd watch the sky change from blue to bright and brilliant orange and red and yellow to dark purple and black and dream about driving into a sunset that would never end.

On this day, we drove west, west, west across Texas back to New Mexico. And indeed the setting of the sun seemed to last about an hour, changing from spectacular to glorious to fading splendor. The glow fell from the sky to the horizon and below, lighting the skies and creating a glimmering mirage across the roadway. Every turn brought a new view, almost as if we were racing to keep up. Maybe in my imagination, I was. Finally the skyline turned dark, and between low lying fog curtains, I could look up to the sky and the lights of the stars were shining bright, sparkling brilliant without the competition of city glare to interfere.

That drive was as close to the dream as I think I'll ever get.

310/365

“So they all went away from the little log house. The shutters were over the windows, so the little house could not see them go. It stayed there inside the log fence, behind the two big oak trees that in the summertime had made green roofs for Mary and Laura to play under. And that was the last of the little house.” 
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods

Just to be clear, I don't remember life without Little House. I can remember going into Plaza Books at Coronado Center in Albuquerque and picking out the next installment in the Little House series. I can remember sitting in the very back space of my mom's Volkswagen Beetle reading Little House books.  (Yes- that would be me seated directly over the engine at the very rear of the car. Yes- that would be me seated without any safety restraint system. Yes- that would be childhood in the mid-1970's.) I can remember reading through the series, and finishing The First Four Years, shelving it, and then starting back in The Big Woods once again. I was The Target Audience of the TV series. I could take my bath, wash, rinse and dry, and be back on the couch before the commercial break ended. 

My kids will attest with nodding heads, the lessons and experiences of Little House have stuck with me to this day. Mary and Laura and Carrie didn't have a VCR in their covered wagon across the plains, and we'll be just fine on our cross-country move, too. Could I too be content with an orange and some stick candy and a corn husk doll at Christmas? That one girl who was such a spoiled bully in elementary school- she was such a Nellie Oleson. I can't look at a grasshopper without thinking of the plague that hit Pa's crops on the banks of Plum Creek. When an Omaha winter seemed to last forever, I knew it was nothing in comparison to The Long Winter in Dakota Territory. The thoughts of Ma making and keeping a home as a pioneer on the prairie have long been a comparison point for me- if Ma can do that, well then surely, I can face the challenges of 21st century life well.

I don't remember how my dear hostess Arlene learned of how I adore all things Little House, but when she did, she promised that she would take me to the cabin. Arlene has many many good qualities, but if there were none other than this promise, she would yet be endeared to me! And so, when setting the itinerary for this trip north, a trip to Pepin filled the space for Monday. 

The Big Woods Cabin sits about 7 miles northwest of Pepin,Wisconsin. It is the birthplace of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Well, to be honest, it is the replica of the cabin. Goodness, when you think about it, what cabin really could survive 150 years? I found two things about the site fascinating. First- the cabin no longer finds itself in the Big Woods. In fact, at this point in history, cornfields surround the little cabin. But second- the cabin is open all day, every day, completely accessible and in wonderful condition. Doesn't that renew a tiny bit of your faith in society? 

Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote, "“The true way to live is to enjoy every moment as it passes, and surely it is in the everyday things around us that the beauty of life lies." Our day-trip along the Wisconsin Scenic Byway was such a delight! To meander with friends and enjoy the views along the way, to savor good food and good company, and even to fulfill a piece of a childhood dream- what more can you ask of a day? 

308/365

When we left the house in the morning, the skies showed gray and the temps settled low, a pretty cool (and I'm not meaning "hip" or
"fashionable"...) fall morning, even by the standards of the folks who live here. And I was freezing. I gazed out the window as we drove by the cornfields, thinking of my farmer friends, thinking of the harvest yet coming in. And then I realized- there was white scattered over the dark earth. I considered, what could it be?
I even asked my husband, "What's that white stuff in the fields?"
Ummm...
Snow. It was snow.
(full disclosure- I realized my error VERY quickly! And then I had a good laugh at myself, honest, I did!)

Dear Midwest,
You are lovely. But it's the front of November. And I've been living in south Texas and northern Mexico for a while now. My blood has thinned; I really do think it has.

Now I remember what I don't miss...

306/365

Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry,
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky;
And the tears that I cried for that woman are going to flood you Big River,
Then I'm going to sit right here until I die.
- Johnny Cash, "Big River" (1957)

We cross the border between Iowa and Wisconsin just so we could drive the road alongside the Mississippi River. The Big River runs 2350 miles top to bottom, from the Minnesota headwaters at Lake Itasca to its destination end at the Gulf of Mexico near New Orleans. The Mississippi/Missouri river system ranks as the fourth longest river system in the world. But at this stretch along the way, it seems difficult to believe that these meandering waters creating only a series of ripples along the way could ever make it that far. The skies have turned gray and rather gloomy by the time we reach the lookout point on the side of the road, the sun not far from day's end. Those old lyrics and Cash's deep baritone voice run through my head, a familiar refrain that today found exactly its own place in time.

304/365

I'm pretty sure that nearly everyone from the Rio Grande Valley would agree- every road trip out of the Valley begins with breakfast tacos. Accordingly, on the stop to fill up the gas tank, we also make our way indoors and line up to place our order. I watch as the workers scurry, alternating between filling a bulk order and the requests of those waiting patiently but anxiously, this surely the first stop of their long day to come. One woman rolls balls of dough with a small wooden dowel; another flips the discs on the grill, checking the tell-tale brown spots for readiness. Finally, our turn at the counter and we place our order, "Dos con juevos y tocino, por favor." She scoops the scrambled eggs with pieces of bacon and fills the center of the tortilla, rolling it all up in a shiny foil wrapper. I walk away and open the package and unroll the bundle to spoon in pico de gallo and salsa verde, taking that nearly always losing gamble that it won't drip onto my shirt in the final bites. The coffee also presents a risk. Although usually known to be pretty good for a gas station brew, today a definitely burned flavor exists, and not even a splash of half and half covers it up. I drink it anyway, watching the sunrise along the way. We are off.

281/365

"Girls, this is an Absolutely True Story that happened to me and Kim and Kate at the market. The guy selling me my shirt asked us, "Are you Christians?"
"Yes," we answered.
"My mom was a  Christian, but my dad was a Jehovah's Witness," he told us, and I start to continue the rest of the story.

"Mom," interrupted my girls, "That is from Nacho Libre."

Like the time that the homeless lady I befriended just happened to have the same name and hometown as a Marvel Comics character.

Life. You can't make it up.

280/365

6am departure, and I'm awake at 4:10. WIDE awake. I pretend to sleep, as if I could fool myself, and finally realize that my husband isn't asleep either. With time to spare, we start the day. He makes coffee. The still of early hours make quiet.

The minutes that ticked so slowly when I wished sleep suddenly pass in fast forward once awake. My guy, he's never ready when I am. It took, hmm, about 23 years to figure out that we don't have to leave together, that maybe it's better for both of us if we don't. Finally time to depart, I roll my bag out the door. Be sure, I was only walking to our ride. I promise, I wouldn't really leave that man behind.

We meet our teammates, our friends, finish last minute packing and loading, open and close the gates, and head out. The streets are dark, but starting to come alive, more cars, more people the farther we go. I turn around to talk and spill his coffee on the seat. I once again silently vow to never carry coffee without a lid into the car. My pants soak up the overflow

I confess, I am perhaps disproportionately (say that three times fast in Spanish... desproporcionadamente desproporcionadamente desproporcionadamente...) excited about the trip ahead. We are boarding a bus and driving south for 10 hours. 10 hours of looking out the window, of reading, of sitting next to my guy. I'm a road trip nerd.

The journey does not disappoint. We pass through countryside, Northern Mexico desert turns to mountains. The road climbs. The bus rolls on past roadside villages, past farm and field, past taco stands and fruit stands and honey stands. Brown eventually greens, and even flowers. The violet tint of the window colors all the views, purple mountains majesty indeed.

It's good to get out of town.

252/365

John Steinbeck borrowed the line from poet Robert Burns, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." And such becomes the case when a hurricane heads your way. We had her move-in date on the calendar since June. We had the date for our mission agency country retreat on the calendar for just as long. The two dates were separated by a full week, and surely all would be well. Surely nothing could cause a conflict?!

Nothing except a hurricane.
When Hurricane Harvey set its sight on landfall in south Texas, the plans suddenly became precarious. Within a day of the move-in date, we knew that event would be postponed. We didn't know how long. As we watched the storm grow to Category 4 and slowlyslowly churn towards the shore, we didn't even know if there would be much of a school left to move into this semester!

Amazingly, the university weathered the storm incredibly well, A week and two days late, students were moving on campus. But a week and two days later, these parents were on the Pacific coast of Mexico, not the Gulf coast of Texas. We made new plans. A car full of sisters and a loyal brother-in-law and an auxiliary vehicle with the best second family we could ever hope for made the trip. And this mom sat far away and second guessed and lamented missing the day and begged for photos.

As such, the road trip a week later can't be counted as a do-over, though we did bring a load of forgotten items. But it certainly did serve to redeem the missed day. We brought tech-y dad to hook up the router and make the Wi-Fi work. We drank coffee and bought a few necessities and ate a really good Thai lunch. We walked around campus and trekked across a bit of shore. We ate ice cream. And we hugged and kissed our girl goodbye, leaving confident that all is well. (and we returned to fix the Internet one more time. And we forgot keys. And still, all is well.)

Not a lot of scenery fills the landscape between here and there. It is wide-open spaces north to south, wide-open spaces east to west. And yet, "the emptiness sings." I drove home thankful and content (and even more, with a Husker game on the radio for company). The best laid plans go awry, but plan B often works out better than you might expect.

105/365

Today I want to remember-
up before dawn,
And they said, "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved...,"
bacon and egg breakfast taco with pico and green salsa,
hot coffee,
"yes, US citizen,"
a man who loves his job enough to come in on his day off,
looking down for the stars,
iced coffee and a table in the corner and no where to be,
a long uninterrupted sit,
surfboards and sharks and "how on earth did he get that shot?"
"essence energy and planet types"?,
not caring if I buy a thing,
slow wanderings,
the really delicious gyro and really good fries,
back to the palm trees,
a clean house,
end of the day content,
promise of tomorrow hope.

91/365

The fourth-year nursing student led us in front of the hospital bed, eyes blinking on the otherwise seemingly lifeless mannequin, explaining how the clinical program works. "...Always practicing so you know what to do when the situation goes down," he told us.

Little did I know that a few hours later, when the car wouldn't turn over, not even a click, not even a blink, the situation would go down. But grace, oh grace! (it was all my fault- leaving in the before-daybreak-darkness and arriving in full sun, one forgets about lights, especially in this unforgiving, no-warning-bell-to-chime-you-back-to-reality, car...) We stood open the hood and sure enough, two strangers with jumper cables and more than a measure of patience helped these sojourners to charge the battery.
That's enough practice, I think.

65/365

The train glides by on parallel tracks and I can't help but think of possibilities. It points north with cargo intended for a faraway people in an unknown destination. I daydream about sitting in a passenger car, miles and miles of gazing at flashing scenery, hot coffee in the dining car, slowing down and pulling into the station in a brand new town.

63/365

Today I want to remember
morning quiet at the table,
"The mystery of life is that we discover this human togetherness not when we are powerful and strong, but when we are vulnerable and weak."
a mug (ok, two) of hot, strong coffee,
cheerios with blueberries,
wandering through the store picking out my faves faves,
peanut sauce on spring rolls,
warm spicy Pho,
the best lunch date,
a long, comfortable nap,
patters on the window and the earthy smell of rain
sweet hospitality, beginning to end,
Drake the Goat lives.



SaveSave

62/365

We're learning how to be just two again, sometimes slowly, sometimes little by little. It might seem obvious, but just two is different than all those numbers up to eight. Two means that we only interrupt each other. Two means that sometimes there are miles and hours of quiet. Two means that we stop when we are ready. Two means just a short time of deciding what to eat. We sure are thankful for the eight, but there are some pretty sweet blessings in two.

42/365

"Huevo y tocino y huevo y papa, por favor."
The trip started as most travels out of the Rio Grande Valley do, with a stop at Valero for gas and coffee and breakfast tacos. We folded down the foil, made sure the salsa wasn't dripping, and pointed north. We watched the graywhite haze burn off as the sun rose higher in the sky. Winter takes a toll on the landscape even this far south, as the grass lays dry and even the evergreen live oak leaves hang dark and wizened before the renewal of spring growth.

Semi trucks and pickups and Norteño band buses share the road. Roadside fruit stands, with the oranges of citrus and bright pottery, flash on the right. Slow for the ICE checkpoint,
"Yes, only 2 people. Yes, US citizens. Thank you, have a good day."
Watch for decreasing speed zones, for local police setting a lair. Train passes us on the right.

We arrive just when expected and share hugs with my brown-eyed kids. It takes about, oh, one second to notice the new dent in the car. Which young adult has ever skipped the opportunity to share inopportune news on neutral territory? The trade ensues nonetheless. Which young adult has ever skipped the opportunity to swap the mini-van back for the mini-SUV? Crazy cute dog runs circles around us, wades in the little pond, chases the remains of a tennis ball. We peek in the winery, full of tasters, no hurries on a bright Saturday midday.

But the car is making noises, grinding and squealing. The oil shows the milky film of other liquid. Anxiety proves difficult to squelch. Isn't it a distraction when kill-joy What If shows up on the road trip? We detour north for a bite of lunch and take a lap around Market Days at the Courthouse Square. No crafty or antique wares today. I take the wheel for the return trip home.

I scan the radio dial and tune in the sure-to-sing-a-long station, volume kept low to prevent distraction for my reading shot-gun rider. One eagerly awaited stop for gas- and disappointment.
"I'll have a junior Jamocha shake."
"Sorry, the shake machine is broken."
Frequent checks along the way, and sure enough, both vehicles make it home safely. I already begin to plot a do-over for the season ahead.

348/366

DPP13- drivedrivedrivedrive all the day long.
Thankful for my four drivers, safety, constant encouragement, the promises we cling to, long hard hugs and silly beautiful grands at the end of the day

152/366

Three weeks and more than 3000 miles of road.
It was a lot of miles, and as much as I love to travel and as much as I love a good road trip, I love to get home.

Reflections on a road trip...
I love the Midwest and I love our Midwestern family and friends.
Our blood has thinned and high 50's is now winter weather.
The United States is so very diverse and so very beautiful.
There is just an awful lot of Very Tasty Food in this world.
Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb!
There are so many good books yet to be read.
Traveling with two teens is infinitely easier than traveling with 5 preschoolers.
If in doubt, go classic rock radio.
I am embarrassed at how many classic rock lyrics I know and the songs I can identify only three notes in.
Did the inventor of car air conditioning win some sort of Nobel Prize?
Culture shock comes in the most unexpected places.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like Home.

151/366

"I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White citizens’ “Councilor” or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to “order” than to justice..."
- Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr in "Letter from a Birmingham City Jail," 16 April 1963

(photo from the National Civil Rights Museum, Memphis, Tennessee) 

150/366

How shall we spend it, the last light of our day?
- Doug McKelvey, "100-Year Vision" in The Rabbit Room blog

149/366

As if just a night at the diamond wasn't satisfying enough, few experiences amuse like a night at a minor league ballpark. It's all about entertainment. We went on Planet of the Ape Night, which meant the Bananamobile showed up. (Banana Gorilla fans, anyone?) And the grounds crew? Dressed in banana and gorilla suits, of course.

The mascots were terrific! Crash the River Rascal out danced Roxy, and moved his belly with style. And poor Franky the Swimming Pig- because naming a pig Franky (with the official number 8 OZ.) is the most unfortunate mascot name ever.

The Between-Inning-Entertainment? It was raining monkeys when they threw out blow-up mini-apes. There was the Appliance Race sponsored by the local gas company, when little kids in the oven, washing machine, and water heater boxes raced to the thermostat. There were the guys shooting arrows at the guy in the balloons suit, and the quote of the night, "Not THOSE balloons!!" (yes! NO! yikes!!) There were the young ladies from the bachlorette party in the Dizzy Bat Race. (so sorry that we laughed when you fell over. So sorry!) There were the Bumper Balls, the folks rolling around in the human gerbil balls. There were cute kids everywhere.

And the Special Appearances! For one night only- Tim "Wild Thang" Lepard and Team Ghost Riders- "three of the best sheep dog riding monkeys in the business!" Yes, monkeys riding border collies to herd the goats in the outfield, right around the guys warming up for the top of the 5th. You can't make this stuff up!

We sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in the 7th inning stretch. We ate cotton candy and ice cream.  We had a Huge beer (that was what it was called. honest!) Our team won! The evening finally finished with fireworks, complete with grand finale.

Thanks West Michigan Whitecaps! We had a great night out!