Here I Am

In Newport, Oregon

I feel splendid this morning. I woke up with a smile on my face!

But yesterday…….yesterday

I was really tired. Eyes blurry, shoulders sagging tired. I never pictured this kind of tired when I fantasized about this journey. There is just so much to see and do. I have a hard time stopping to rest. I don’t want to miss anything. I may not be back this way again.

What I needed was a restful evening. I was committed to finding a nice clean, relatively new room somewhere, with a tub and a view. I didn’t want to camp out again even though there are innumerable beautiful places to set up a tent in this part of Oregon. I just needed to be warm and comfortable and sleep a little longer. My biggest complaint regarding camping lately is the windy evening and the chilly misty mornings without a hot cup of coffee!

I stopped at several places along Highway 101 while traveling beside the Pacific Ocean. I checked out rooms. (Suzi and Mike, if you are reading this, remember our vacation in Oregon few years ago and the search for motel rooms. You know what I mean, don’t you?) I had faith that fate would lead me to just the right place. I would stop on impulse when someplace seemed promising. I even turned around a few times because I thought I passed what might have been “the place.”. But I wasn’t finding a spot that felt right, where I could recharge. I was getting weary and worried because it was already later than I usually stop, Most days I hit the road about 6:00 AM when I am camping, because, as I said, it has been cold and I don’t have hot coffee until I go out and get it somewhere else. So by 3 or 4 o’clock, I am done in.

Anyway, I was both worried and confident about fate leading me around on a wild goose chase or leading me to the right place. The later it got the more concerned I was that I was being too picky. It was Saturday and vacant rooms were few. And I was “Oh so tired.” Anyone who has felt this way knows that one sometimes ends up overspending for any old place just to lay their weary head down.

Thankfully, luck was with me. I am writing this from my room at the Whaler Inn in Newport. I have a porch with a view of the Ocean, a tub, hot coffee at all times and the inn is clean and bright. Outside my sliding glass doors is a landscaped dry creek bed of beautiful rocks. This was the perfect place! It even has an indoor pool and a hot tub and a Continental breakfast. And all for only $75 dollars a night. Thank-you. I needed this respite.

With my feet up I spent two hours watching Groundhog Day on television. I always though that movie has some sort of message about making the most of each day that you have been given. I think I am. It was a first rate evening. A walk along the beach, a movie, wine, a long bath, a long sleep. Life is good!

One of the advantages of traveling solo is that you can make decisions without recrimination. There is always a risk that when you decide to pass up this restaurant or that motel or this campground for the hope of a better one down the road, that there is no better one down the road. With my ex-husband I’d feel guilty for pressing on and then settling for something less. But alone, it just doesn’t matter. No one else is involved, no one else is disappointed, no one else is there to say, “See, I told you we should have stopped back there.” Interestingly, so far, I really haven’t made any bad decisions, or I don’t think I have, which is just as good.

I will be leaving the sea today, heading inland. I like it here by the sea. As I headed up the coast yesterday, I was tired and thought it would be easier to find a place for the night along the Interstate so in Florence I headed inland, then changed my mind, turned around. and decided to spend a few more hours traveling north along the coast. I really really hate to head inland. But it’s time.

Before I leave, I have a few words about my visit to Oregon.

My very favorite fruit is cherries and cherries are currently in season and available everywhere. At home I ration myself because they are usually so expensive and I am usually so frugal. But I just paid a buck for a basket at a road side stand and I feel extravagant. Driving along the Oregon Coast eating fresh Bing cherries is akin to a drive through paradise. Did I feel good or what?

Another thing I like about Oregon. A person is not allowed to pump their own gas. I stopped at a station to fill up and whoa! Somebody was there to pump gas for me. I am sure I looked a little befuddled, ready to pump gas and having someone stop me. And to top it all off with whipped cream and a cherry, he cleaned the windshield, too. Just like when I was “younger.” I always liked that plan better than the do it yourself one. And gas was cheaper than in California! It seems so much more civilized when someone else pumps your gas and you just hand over the credit card. Listen up, Florida. (I will be sure to fill up the tank before leaving this state.)

There has been a lot of mist (fog?) at the shore, occasionally obliterating the view of the ocean and rocks. For the most part, it stays off the highway. Convenient, huh? At times, it requires faith to know that the deep sea is right off to my left even though I cannot see it at all. I thought at times that it must be a beauty though, because I’d passed signs that pointed to the left that said things like “The House Rock The Arch Rock, and The Whale Rock.” They would have been fun to see…….if I could have!

The wow factor! That’s my phrase to describe the California/Oregon coast. I am filled up to the top with beautiful sights, overflowing with nature’s magnificence, overwhelmed with appreciation for this world I live in. I don’t know how to fit any more amazing sights into my head and heart. They are full to the top. I will have to jump around a while to shuffle the stuff down to make room for more. So much WOW!

The mornings are fleece cold. The afternoons are short sleeve warm.

And now I will make a confession. I am a rock junky. I have picked up a lot of pebbles, rocks, and stones, but I collect more. And they are just plain ole worthless smooth gorgeous rocks. I want more. I promise myself not to gather anymore but I do and now the floor of my back seat looks like a little Pacific beach. I guess it is a good thing I am heading inland where the rocks are less tempting. Florida has few rocks and limestone comes in pretty much one color, white. Boring! In a way, I have rocks in my head too! In a good sort of way.

So OK, after writing this and packing up, I head to Seattle.

It’s Sunday, isn’t it? May something or other? Who cares?

The Northern California Coast

I need new words. Awesome, extraordinary, amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, incredible, or spectacular just don’t seem enough to describe that which takes my breath away. If you haven’t driven the California Coast, you must put it on your bucket list and drive it. It makes the world seem so much more. It almost makes me want to stay.

I have been on the road for 30 days and I’m tired. Even a good night’s rest isn’t quite enough to recharge completely. A month seems to be long enough to miss the comforts of home, but not long enough to feel long gone and only long enough to experience a tad of all I want. While I had planned to read and paint some, I think I have decided that those sorts of relaxing activities will have to wait until I am back home where I don’t feel like I am missing something better, nor have a need to fill myself with the local sights. I would much rather take a hike in the big woods, climb rocks, or walk around an artsy downtown. I feel caught up in my own days and a dream making its own path.

If I didn’t have to sleep, I wouldn’t. There is so much to see and do. I am inspired and feeling creative, but lack the time and serious thought to actually be able to start anything anyway. I can’t even plan my itinerary for the next day, but rather make spontaneous decisions or act on whim when I feel a pull or nudge, and just in case, fate has a plan for me. So far I haven’t noticed any reasons or chance encounters of a significant nature, but then fate may be protecting me for nothing unfortunate has occurred either. As they say in Jamaica, “No problems.”

I used to stop for garage sales, but now I stop for rocky beaches. I search for ocean polished rocks of every color. I fill my pockets. It is kind of nice to do this on my own, at my own speed, with no one waiting, no one to look bored while I kill an hour on the rocks. I search for sea glass and driftwood, too. This is my idea of a truly pleasurable afternoon. When the tide was out, I discovered orange, red, and blue starfish clinging to the rocks, sea urchins in tide pools, and giant kelp. There are caves and hidden treasures, too.

Being alone has been OK, but there are times I want to share. I want to say to someone beside me, “Wow, isn’t that something? Do you see that? Trying to tell someone about it later on isn’t quite the same. But then again, what fascinates me, doesn’t necessarily fascinate someone else, so on the other hand there is no one to diminish my awe either.

I stop often to take pictures, just to savor the moment, but I know the photos just can’t capture what I feel while taking the picture. It can’t even capture what I see. Besides I am not a very good photographer and when I look back I am disappointed at the photos which lack a great deal of what was so breathtaking.

I remember seeing the Redwoods once before somewhere along in my lifetime but cannot remember when that was. It might have been in my youth on vacation with my parents or it might have been on one of my later vacations with my own family. I feel like I am seeing the northern California Coast, however, for the first time in my life.

After leaving Benicia, I headed for the coast and the Redwoods. Following the coastal highways, I find myself either driving along the shore or on the other side of the mountain. The shore drive is curvy and slow but spectacular, the other side of the mountain is the freeway, faster, but without the expansive view. The drive between, through the mountains along CA 128, an ear popping road, was pretty special too. The Avenue of the Giants was astounding. Still in awe. Every turn in the road brings another spectacular view. I camped out for two nights among the Redwoods. I felt so small among the giant trees. Like a gnome protected by and tucked into a nook in a mossy tree trunk! The beauty of the area is just incredible. I don’t want to rush. I want to make this feeling last. I want to take it home with me.

On the third night after Benicia I stayed at the Curly Redwood Lodge, in Crescent City. The 36 unit Lodge was built from one Curly Redwood tree. The top had been struck by lighting at about 100 feet. It was 18 feet across at the cut and produced 57,000 board feet of lumber. Imagine that!

It is hard to imagine that not so long ago, many of the ancient redwood trees were harvested and the 1000 year old forests devastated. I saw a sign that said the Redwood forest needs man’s protection. I think, like the whales, the Redwoods needs protection from man more than by man. I also found it fascinating that when a Redwood dies, often new trees grow in an orderly circle around the old stump, from burls on the tree, almost as if honoring it or protecting it, like guards around a treasure.

I took myself out to the Chart Room Restaurant where I order fish and chips and watch seals playing on the docks just outside my window. One big fellow is trying to climb on, but another big one keeps pushing him off as if they are playing a game of ‘King on the Mountain.”

The hostess is interested in my solitary journey from Florida, telling me how she once traveled Europe alone, when she was younger. I share a long table with a couple who hardly talked to each other, let alone to me. Eating at a restaurant alone is not one of the advantages of solitary travel. But seal entertainment makes it better.

I can’t help thinking about how to live the good life. I am in that frame of mind. While in Napa Valley, it seemed to me, that money being no object, owning a vineyard and winery could make for a wonderful life. It is incredibly beautiful in the valley. And I can picture myself walking through my vineyard, watching the grapes grow that will ultimately become a fine wine. Seems like a very appealing life. And since I am fantasizing, I need not thing about the hazards that grapes may face, for I am sure even such an idyllic life has its stuff to deal with. But now, on the California coast, I am thinking how wonderful it would be to live here with the beauty of the place, pick wild strawberries and raspberries, hike to the top of a mountain, and watch the changes in the ocean. And since I am still fantasizing, I don’t have to think about the cold north winds that will whip up in the winter.

Another aside. Propelled by circumstance, I am traveling alone and I find it liberating. Without the safety net of company, each obstacle is all the more challenging, each event very personal. I must rely on myself, put fears aside, and move forward. I hope to find a memorable, if not fleeting bond with someone alone the way, someone I do not yet know. I am open.

I will continue north along Hwy 101 to explore Oregon.

The Avenue of the Giants

Redwood Coast

I feel tiny and humbled among the gargantuan redwoods, the world’s tallest living trees, monarchs of the North California Coast. Coastal Redwoods can live to about 2000 years old, and grow to nearly 370 ft tall. Their 12 inch thick bark makes them resistant to insects and fire. I am in awe beneath these giants.

I not only drove through the Redwoods, but I drove through a Redwood.......a live growing tree that had a tunnel going right through it! Now that is a big tree.

Benicia

Just so you know, I am writing on the run. Trying to let you know I am OK, so you don’t worry. I will write more later when I have time to really think. But this is what’s been going on lately.

It has been a month since I drove away from home where I did my ordinary things in my ordinary way.

The best part so far, as always, as expected, is the people I have visited along the way. I have stepped into their lives just as they are, where they do their ordinary things in their ordinary way. Up loading into my brain thoughts about how to live and about what’s important.

As I said very early on, these people I am visiting are really good people, special people, people I love. They make the world better. They make my world better. They are welcoming and comfortable people. They are both ordinary and extraordinary.

I look at how they live and I think about how I want to live. Having been divorced in the last year and having left most of what was ordinary for me behind, I now get to choose a new life. Imagine that? I have no intention of just letting life happen from here forward without some sort of design. I want to live my best life to whatever extent I can.

I have visited nine lives so far on this journey.

In Benicia I stayed with Nancy and Ken. With the exception of the refineries and the chilly microclimate, I like Benicia. The old town shopping district had a lot of nice shops that allowed for a leisure stroll down a main street with character. There is a lot of open space around town and the area is neat and tidy. Every other home I have shared has pretty much been “early to bed, early to rise.” But this one has two night owls who sleep in. My bed was really comfortable and I think I might consider the sleeping in thing, if I can just do the staying up late thing! (I can be pretty useless after 9:00 PM.)

The conversation along with breakfast, lunch or dinner, on daily road trips, the picnic or the long walks was constant and interesting.

Here is what I have done in the San Francisco Area.

I went to Napa Valley and while it is set in an absolutely beautiful location and the wineries are elegant, it was overwhelmed with tourist who paid $20-25 to tour a winery and $10 to taste the wine. Most wineries I have visited elsewhere gave free tours and free or $5 tastings. Bottles for purchase were $17 and up, mostly up. No bargains here. It is a unique experience worth seeing but the bumper to bumper traffic, crowds, and expense takes something away from it. Then again, this is California all the way! We were particularly fascinated with the Castle Winery which looked every bit like a medieval castle complete with old olive trees, a mote, a vast view, turrets, and dining halls and dungeon like rooms. We could only imagine the imagination of the creator of this castle.

The ferry into San Francisco for dinner made for a nice evening. A long walk along the water front, the wharf, dinner with a view, coffee and conversation. All good.

Nancy and Ken took me on a day trip to Stinson Beach and the Point Reyes Lighthouse. We alternately experienced chill, warm and fog, rocks, forests and rolling hills, cattle and people, cute little towns and awesome open spaces. California certainly doesn’t lack for scenery.

I have spent more time here than anywhere so far, partly because it is the Memorial Day weekend and everywhere is crowded, but also because I feel comfortable here and because they let me stay. It has been really nice.

Today I head north toward Seattle. I expect it to take me a few days to get there. I am hoping the weather will cooperate and I can camp along the Oregon coast.

Talk to you later.

Jan

"Do you know the way to San Jose?"

Given a preference, I like places with less people, less traffic, and where I can see a ways. Life seems easier. The trade-off is a lack of convenience and company!

I have stayed two nights with good friends in San Jose. They have remodeled their three bedroom ranch and the results are excellent, but they still have a way to go with landscaping and decorating. I helped a little in the laying of a foundation for a front porch. With three kids, life is busy. I went to see a two of the three kids play baseball. The younger played a t-ball version with suitable rule changes to accommodate their beginning athlete status. The older ten year old plays a pretty interesting game. I sat on the wooded bleachers in the California sun and enjoyed myself at yet another thing I have not done in a very long time.

The neighborhood in San Jose is filled with the most gorgeous roses. The walk to the elementary school goes past front yards with gigantic blooms of red, white and pink and the greenest grass I have seen in a long long time. And in the rest of the spacesfare more flowers of many colors.

We hiked a portion of Quicksilver, a trail that took us above San Jose along a narrow clay packed path surrounded by wildflowers and poison ivy!

We ate artichokes and beef tacos for dinner.

It is all fun. I go to bed exhausted every night, adjusting to new surroundings, waking up early and wondering what the day will be like. There really is something new and different each day to experience. I find that I don't really have time to relax. I figure that I will learn how to relax on the road or be really glad to get home when the time comes.

Today I am off to Benicia, a community east of San Francisco to stay for a couple of days with a dear girlfriend and her husband, both of whom I knew in high school. From there I will continue north to Seattle.

I hope you are having your own kind of fun.

California Coast

One spectacular view after another!

This is kind of the opposite of the desert.

The California Coast

Now I remember. I love camping. I love being outdoors where I can feel the change in temperature, where I can watch the shadows approach and night settle in. I even love the chill and mist in San Simeon. I am perfectly comfortable sleeping in a tent, snuggled in a sleeping bag. I am not too old for this yet.

The view from my campsite is of the mountains and meadows. A few steps away and I can see the sea. All I need is a comfortable chair (I brought one), a bottle of wine, and fresh air to breathe!

In a motel room, I tend to watch television, because it comes with the price of the room, and because I do not watch at home. (No cable hookup!) It is like going to a buffet and choosing the expensive food because you have already paid for it and you want to get your monies worth. At a motel room I watch TV because it is there. It is not there in a campground so I find other things to do. I take a hike down to the ocean. It is quiet and beautiful except for the sound of the waves breaking.

I may have mentioned that I have a love affair with worthless rocks. The beach is covered with a gazillion wonderful weathered rocks. Rocks with mottled colors. Black rocks with streaks of white. Rocks tumbled smooth. Rocks in the shape of hearts or eggs. They are all calling to me. “Choose me, choose me.” I am in heaven. I gather as many as carryable. The hike back up the bluff with an extra 15 pound load takes longer. But I have rocks in my pockets and I am happy. I have accomplished. I am filled with enthusiasm. Life is good! (Really, sometimes it doesn’t take very much to make me happy.)

Back in camp I write this on my computer using battery power sitting in my warm car because I think I may forget this feeling if I wait untill tomorrow and try to convey the feeling while sitting in a motel room with the TV on.

The mountains, once visible, are now obscured by the fog. My sandwich is eaten and I’ve had a second glass of wine. I am tired and ready for sleep. It’s 8:45 PM. It has been a good day.

Earlier in the day I toured Hearst Castle, one of the homes of billionaire newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst. Those who have been there know the opulence of the home. It boggles my imagination to think that anyone could be so rich as to have anything they want. I think about that unbelievable wealthy lifestyle while I spend the night here, in a campground, in a tent, eating a turkey sandwich. I would have loved meeting the man because he surely was endowed with relentless energy, intelligence, creativity, and enthusiasm. His financial success is almost unfathomable? How did he accomplish so much in one lifetime?

I met a local lady walking on the beach. Her family has owned a motel up on the bluff since 1958, the same year the Hearst Castle was turned over to the state. Actually, other than the coming of the tourists, not much has changed around San Simeon. She thought Hearst did wrong taking artifacts from European churches to decorate his walls and treasures from Egypt to decorate his halls, and art from China to spiff up his pool. I had the same thought while touring the castle. He did well with his money, but he also did bad. But oh, to be so rich I can hardly imagine. I am impressed with his story.

It was a day of traveling from the sublime to the simple. Castle to camp.

The next day I continued the drive up Hwy 1 along the California coast. The drive is as spectacular the third time as it was the first. The rocky cliffs, the elephant seals, the mist, the rolling green mountains, the winding road that keeps revealing one magnificent landscape after another. I stopped for breakfast at the only restaurant I came to after an hour and a half of driving. I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet. I am not fond of little propane stoves, so I didn’t count on cooking in camp. The Whale Watcher Café was so charming I didn’t even mind overpaying for oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins. (Coffee and oatmeal, $12.54 with tip!)

Further down the road, tucked into a small nook in the rocky cliffs, there was a gallery housed in what appeared to be large oak rain barrels. I talked with one of the staff who had come to this area on her own at 16, a runaway who eventually came back to stay. 16 or 60, still an adventure, still awesome.

While traveling north on Hwy 1 at 35-40 mph, winding around the sides of the cliffs, ocean to the left, mountains to the right, few cars to distract me, it was wonderful. A “must do” for anyone who loves to travel. Then, abruptly, it was over. Towns, traffic, stoplights, and noise are back in the picture. I eventually I reached Seaside, a town that doesn’t live up to its quaint name. So I drove back a little way (and you know how I hate backtracking) and found a cute motel within walking distance of downtown Monterey, the Del Monte Pines Motel. Nice! A ten minute walk down the street and I was at a farmer’s market where fresh fruit and crafts were tempting me to spend a few bucks. And I did. However I could have made a meal out of the samples passed out to the crowd, orange and apricot slices, Rainier cherries, baked lamb chunks, organic wine, glazed nuts, pita and hummus. Yum!

And then it was time to walk back to my little room and relax. Put my feet up. Watch TV.

OK, there is something about the great outdoors I definitely do not like. Something that in fact makes me quiver and feel icky. Ticks. Aghhhh! Yuck! Ick! What was it you were supposed to do to get those critters out and off? Nail polish? I don’t have any of that. Will vodka work? Lip balm? OK, I know about putting a match to it’s back, but I am afraid of putting a match to MY back! One little clitch , one little tick to deal with. Yuck. Gotta Go.

Alone Again

After five nights of being with excellent company and sharing their excellent homes, I was ready for time to myself. Time to kick back, spread out, lounge about, and ‘vege’ a little. I really haven’t had time to feel lonely at all.

I am in San Luis Obispo, California.

I was here once before, with my ex-husband, about 6 years ago traveling between a wedding in Santa Barbara and a wedding in Monterey. I remembered this place better than I thought I would. As luck (?) would have it, while taking a walk, I stumbled over the Bed and Breakfast we stayed in, only a few blocks away. I remember our room was decorated with roosters. I remembered what the walk into town looked like and I remembered having tapas at a restaurant overlooking the creek. I probably shouldn't have stopped in this town, but rooms were cheap and the location is just as right now as it was then. I had no desire, though, to stay at the same B and B. How awful would that be? Of course, visiting a place by oneself makes it quite a different sort of place.

Why this particular place has such a vivid memory to me is a mystery, because I didn’t then, nor do I now, find San Luis, particularly interesting. But I feel no distress regarding my single situation. It is just another one of those “it is what it is” feelings. So it’s OK.

I temporarily lost my cell phone yesterday. YIKE! My life line, my breathing tube, my connection with all that is known to me. I stopped in Solvang, yesterday. Solvang is a quaint Danish village with shops, bakeries, restaurants and tourists all over the place. I stopped to have breakfast, shopped a little, buying some socks and books. On the way out of town, I stopped for gas before continuing on. Then, for some peculiar reason, about 15 miles down the road, I had the urge dig my cell out of my purse and put it some place more convenient should someone call while I am cruising down the road. A cursory search in my purse did not turn up my phone. I pulled over and searched more thoroughly. Couldn’t find it. Dumped out the contents of my little purse. It definitely wasn’t there. Searched the car seat, the floor, and other less likely places it could be. No phone. I am beginning to panic. Think, think, where might I have left it? At my cousin’s house? No, I distinctly remember putting it in my purse. Then, I must have left it, somehow, at some stop I made in Solvang? Oh no!!!

Then I did that which I hate to do, I turned the car around and went back. Feeling disconnected I tried to think some more. Where might I have left it? The gas station was my last and now my first stop. I asked the clerk. "No," no cell was found. Then I had a brilliant idea. Maybe if I call myself, someone will answer or just maybe it is buried in the car under maps and brochures. The clerk said she had no phone that I could use for a long distance call and my phone would definitely be a long distance call, to Florida and back. But some nice lady hearing my request offered up her cell so that I could make the call. I dialed my number. Someone answered with a tentative hello. (Oh, thank God!) I told her it was my phone she answered and she said she thought it might be me. I asked her where she was. She told me, The Soft Loft. I found my way back and retrieved my lifeline. Whew! Tragedy averted!

Six years ago, the loss of a cell phone would have been less of a problem. We were two. We were less dependent on it. Public phones were more available. It would have been an inconvenience, not a cause for panic. But things are different now. I know this seems like a silly story, but really, I hang onto my cell phone like it was the hand of a friend.

California is, as I remember, beautiful. The Pacific shows itself every now and then as I round a bend. The hills and mountains, though sparse, rise quickly and provide a dynamic silhouette against the sky. There has been heavy white mist, black burned hillsides which were formerly yellow and green, blue skies, and rolling vineyards.

California is big, but with the changing backdrops, it is nothing like driving though Texas, which is also big, but without the constant change in the scenery. The drive here is ever so pleasant, although, I prefer the lack of traffic in Texas over California’s busy-ness.

I have three days alone before my next visit. And after five days of visiting, I am ready to be alone. To be quiet. To wander and wonder awhile.

As I am seated in restaurants or as I shop the shops, or walk the walk, I can’t help but notice that everyone is with someone. Especially in vacation destinations. I am the only one sitting at a table eating alone. There are always two walking along the village streets. Two checking into the motel. It is a strange feeling, being one. A song comes to mind, “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do. Two can be as bad as one, it’s the loneliest number since the number one.” All things considered, one is not so bad."

I am feeling how this trip is so very different from any I have ever done before, not just the being a woman alone part, but also the distance that I am traveling and the purpose. This is not a leisurely experience. Taking three months to cover 8000 miles is barely enough, I should have planned for four. (Then again, why is it I must get home again? Just mussing.) I feel like I am in a movie where they show the passage of time and travel, by quickly changing the background going from open desert, to city traffic, to a crawl up a winding mountain, speeding down the interstate, searching for a parking spot in a small Danish style village crowded with tourist, to driving into the Super 8 looking for a room. In the span of a few minutes, a week or month has passed. Then the story begins once again.

I am traveling, continually going from place to place. I do not explore where I am, but rather, get a quick “look see” and move on. Occasionally I do stop to take in the local tourist attraction. Today I think I shall stop and have a look see at Hearst Castle. A recommendation from a friend. Maybe tomorrow I will slow down a little. Maybe.

I am into it, this moving vacation style road trip. I could do without the jump in gas prices, though, ugg, $2.65 here in California. When I started this trip, I paid a "mere" $1.99 a gallon. Nothing to do but pay it and keep moving.

Time to go. See ya.

3000 Miles Down the Road

I have been eager to see my long distance family and friends on this journey, find a way to fit into their schedules, and have time to talk, over coffee, over wine, over dinner, in their house, in a park, in the morning or in the dark! Timing is the thing of course. Everyone has places to be, things to do.

I have been out on the road, driving across the desert, along winding roads following beautiful green canyons, through Los Angeles 101 in rush hour traffic, and following my AAA Triptik to find my way through busy neighborhoods and over suburban streets with look alike houses, making my way to the front doors of the people I visit. I keep forgetting to ask what their front doors looks like. I should ask because when I arrive, or think I have arrived, I am really not quite sure I actually arrived, having never been there before. Am I at the right house? Do I have the right address? Will someone I don’t even know answer the door? Will I feel foolish and confused if this is not their house? So far, no surprises. But I have more homes to visit.

The last few days have been drive….visit….drive….visit…drive….visit…. Time goes quickly. I pictured it all more leisurely than it is. Not that I am complaining. By the way, I have now traveled 3000 miles in 50 hours of actually drive time which I have stretched into 17 days and many stops.

I love seeing “my” people and a little slice of their existence. Because they don’t know exactly when to expect me, and because they are such terrific people, they let me slip into their life for a day or two, experience their style, eat their food, sleep on their futon, meet their friends at things like an impromptu tailgate picnic, a preschool fundraising potluck party, shared work night dinner out at their favorite local restaurant, watch something special on television or read a bedtime story to their little one. Conversation flows from important stuff like their hope for the future and then to the inconsequential, like, well, like, do I like artichokes? And because they wonder, I tell them about my divorce, my side of the traumatic story, my reasons, my pain, my recovery. These are darn special people who listen and offer compassion and understanding.

I haven’t had any epiphanies or found any answers to the secret of life yet. I have not stumbled over any meaningful wisdom. But thoughts and ideas are entering my brain at each visit and during each drive and they are being shuffled in my brain and categorized and edited. I think that eventually, they will come together like the pieces of a puzzle and I will see the big picture complete with directional signage and suggested routes. At least I hope so.

I am in beautiful Santa Barbara now. Brady and Sydney, who love it here, live in a cute California bungalow with two adorable intelligent, happy, easy going little sons, one dog, and two estranged old cats that moved in with the next door neighbor, apparently I am told, having had enough of the two adorable little boys and big friendly dog.

The night before, I was in Thousand Oaks, CA with a cousin my own age with whom I spent much of my youth with back in Ohio where we built huts in the woods and flirted with lifeguards at the swimming pool. Very recently and for the first time in our lives, we had “words,” a yucky disagreement over family issues. I have heard about these sorts of family “disputes” that occasionally happen and can strain a relationship, but this was our first. I won’t go into the details, but I showed up, she welcomed me, and I am happy to report that we did, in fact, work through the details, get new respective, restore harmony, kiss and make-up so to speak. It was good. Real good. I need not travel further with the bad feelings our misunderstanding generated. And speaking only for myself, I couldn’t stand to lose anything more that is dear to me, having lost so much in the last five years of my life….my mother, dear aunts and uncles, my marriage, “his” family, my home and a collection of 39 years of mementos that are now in my ex-husband’s possession. (Hear that? That is the sting of divorce still hanging around the edges of my mind.)

The night before I spend with Cousin Kelly in Anaheim Hills, CA. She is a delightful person full of enthusiasm, laughter and love. The kind of person who goes to Hawaii for a month to learn surfing. She feeds me energy. She makes me marvel. She is a teacher, a single woman, with a cute condo, BMW convertible, a yoga instructor and a therapist. Very California!

And the night before that, I was in Phoenix visiting with my nephew and his beautiful wife and their charming three year old daughter. One of two preschool visits, Mediterranean dinner out, wine and conversation in their cozy backyard, warm in the desert climate, waterfall providing a soothing musical background, and battery operated candles that look really real, never drip wax, nor provide a cause of concern that one might forget to put out the candle and burn the house down. I’ve got to get some of those.

My overall confidence is growing. I look forward to long drives and nights on my own. Down the road.

I am feeling proud of my navigational skills along the LA interstate with out so much as a scratch on the fender or a horn blown by me or someone I offended. I know that millions of people drive those interstates every day, but I have not been one of them. We don’t have twelve lane bumper to bumper traffic to contend with where I live. When I have traveled in the past, I was one of those wives who let their husband drive through the heavy traffic racing in and out of lanes and merging smoothly when necessary. But I did it quite easily, without nervous apprehension. Another new experience successfully accomplished.

Well, there is a baby crying in the other room offering me the opportunity to soothe and cuddle. Gotta go! So until the next stop, adios, bye bye, and see ya later alligator!

Love ya, Jan

14 Days on the Road and Life is good

Tonight, Sedona, Arizona.

Before Sedona came Albuquerque. I met Holly and John for the first time about 19 years ago on a windjammer in the Caribbean. (I never quite know whether to say “I” or “we” when I speak of past vacations. Back then I was married and part of a “we”. But now I am a “me.” So should it be “we” met, even though the story is now about me? This is another one those weird things about divorce. So let me try to start with us and move on to me.)

I love this story. We (my ex-husband and I) met Holly and John a long time ago for five short days while on vacation 19 years ago and connected in a profound way. In the years since, Holly and I have exchanged Christmas letters (always signing the guys names along with our own of course), writing a short note about what had transpired in our lives in the past year. And in all those years since the windjammer we have visited only twice. They live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I (we) in Florida.

This visit, however would be was just me, now a single woman visiting a couple of old friends with whom we had a long distance relationship. I wondered, “Would it feel weird”? Would being only me make a difference? Well, I am so pleased to report that it didn’t seem to at all. It was a fantastic visit. "I" connected once again with John and Holly just as I had done 19 years ago. Talking, laughing and enjoying their company and feeling energized and thankful. This relationship is something special that does not come along very often in a lifetime. I don’t know why they touch me so, but they did and they do and I am grateful.

Their 16 year old son, who hadn’t even been born when we first met, had a high school sport banquet to which I was graciously invited. It was fun to be back in a high school watching teenagers be teenagers. My own kids have been out of school for 16 years.

Saturday morning we hiked on a mesa while the city of Albuquerque stretched out in the distance beyond. It was cool and quiet out there where there under a huge cloudless sky. We returned home where John cooked the eggs and bacon for a very nice Mother’s Day breakfast. Then we drove out to Madrid. Madrid is an old mining town that has become a charming and exceptionally colorful art community. The old buildings house studios and galleries. Eclectic creations filled front yards and porches as well as what was once living rooms and bedrooms. It made me want to unpack my watercolors and brushes. But I am finding that there just isn’t enough time to travel and visit and paint, too. The painting will have to wait till I get back home or at least stay in one place for a while. I hope I can take the inspiration home with me though. Madrid was a perfect place to be for a while. My kind of place. A wabi-sabi kind of place.

My first stop in Albuquerque was to visit with my niece, Michele, and her family. Both she and her husband, Dave rank high in the air force. They live in a lovely house with their daughter and Dave’s mother. Most of Albuquerque can be seen from their back yard. We sad outside one evening watching the sun set and the city lights slowly illuminate until it looked like Christmas as far as we could see, the lights ending where the mountains began in the distance.

At dinner in a New Mexico restaurant I learned an important thing about New Mexico. Chili peppers and salsa are the thing. When the waitress asked if I wanted red or green, the blank expression on my face prompted Dave to explain that in NM most everything comes with red or green chili sauce. People are divided into two groups, red or green. I asked for a little of both, because I didn’t yet know which kind of person I was. I still don’t. I liked them both, with a glass of water on the side to cool the burn.

While they were at work, I hiked up a little mountain five blocks from their front door. At the top is a beach that precedes what looks like a waterfall, and probably is when rains get bountiful, but that day was dry and warm with a commanding view of the city and a stiff breeze that encouraged me to sit and feel and look and enjoy being alone in such a place. The desert landscape climbed the mountainside around me looking like one gorgeous gigantic rock garden complete with wild flowers, sage, and a colorful variety of rocks. I am a sucker for rocks. I spend a lot of time looking for that special one that calls to me, which then finds its way into my pocket and eventually to my home. I love these found rocks more than ones of actually monetary value. I don’t know why, I just do.

On the drive from Albuquerque to Sedona I continue through more of not much, big empty spaces broken up by red cliffs and rocks that create castle look alikes and rustic walls among the mesas and buttes. I feel free out there. I can see far ahead. I can see where I am going. I made a stop to have a look at the Meteor Crater. The crater, six miles off Interstate 40, is a really big hole in the ground. About 50,000 years ago, an iron-nickel meteorite traveling at incredible speed, in a blinding flash, stuck the rocky plain in an explosive force that left a giant bowl shaped cavity 2 ½ miles around and 500 feet deep, big enough for twenty football games to be played simultaneously on its floor. The price of admission includes a guided tour that includes the story of discovery, excavation, and the enormous effect of the meteor’s collision. Very impressive. Could happen again!

I spent the night in Sedona, AZ, a picturesque city surrounded by red-rock monoliths with names like Coffeepot and Snoopy. They stand like sentries. The town is also surrounded by the world’s largest stand of ponderosa pines. This is no wilderness, though. Boutiques, jewelry stores, and art galleries are everywhere. Tourists fill the roadsides and sidewalks. It is beautiful and hectic all at the same time. Parking in town is difficult to find and the Indian art is high priced, but the views…..oh the views!

My room at the Kokopelli Suites came with a hot tub. I finally relaxed and rested for an evening, alone, with my sandwich and coke (and a shot of rum), a magazine, and TV, and bubbling water. Ahhhhhhhh, I needed that. My road trip has completely filled my time, leaving me tired and worn out at the end of each day, inspired and grateful, and trying still, to get organized and have a plan for the next day. My thinker is having difficulty thinking. Driving through the open expanses of desert leaves me with a feeling of freedom and control of my life, but then I hit the city traffic and fumble and cringe until I reach a destination for the night. And I am tired. But inspired. And fired up! Looking forward. Not so much backward. Engaged in today. All this in only two weeks.

This is definitely a different kind of “vacation.” So far it has been pretty much a go and visit sort of trip, a lot of driving between stays with people I love, each feeding me both literally and figuratively, my body and my soul. I could have stayed with any one of them longer, enjoying their company, but in an effort to be a good guest and actually get around to everyone on my “itinerary,” I stay not long enough for me.

As a woman alone, travel has been much as I thought it would be. I go at my own pace, stop where I choose, eat when I am hungry, do pretty much as I please without regard for anyone else’s needs or preferences. I haven’t had much opportunity to feel lonely, in fact, the opposite is true. So tonight, I enjoy solitude, the king size bed, six pillows, hot tub, and TV all to myself. And time to relax and reflect a little. To soak everything up and be warm inside.

Life is good! What once was coming undone in my life is now coming together after two thousand miles and a few turns.

Love you, Jan

The Wide Open Spaces

There is a lot, I mean, a lot of open space in Texas and New Mexico. Big spaces. Wide open spaces! Space where you can stretch your arms out to either side, twirl around, and never touch anything, even when lossing your balance and wobbling all over the place. You can stop your car in the middle of the road and nobody is around to notice. "Seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day."

It's easy out there. No traffic to negotiate, few rules to follow, and nothing to obstruct your view as far as your eyes can see. I did get ambushed by a few tumbleweeds, but they didn't stay long, maneuvering their way around the car and moving on. (Fascinating, because we don't have tumbleweeds in Florida.)

I stopped for lunch in Corona, NM. The town consisted of a row of a half dozen buildings or so along one side of the highway and a railroad track along the other. And beyond both of those was nothing but open space. A few houses, rusty tractors, and barbed wire fences, down the road made up the rest of the community. There were two cowboys, one young, one old, at one table and two ladies and a little boy at another. Everyone ate tacos and beans. Me too.

Nothing out here is like it is back home, where the traffic moves from stop light to stop sign and you often have to wait in line for a seat at a restaurant. Back home where the beach is the only place where you can see the horizon, life seems more hectic and hurried. And talk about xeroscape......sand, rocks, grass, and a few bushes make up the landscape for miles and miles.

It's really nice out there on the OPEN road. I like being by myself out there. I feel free and timeless. But I don't think I would want to live there. I'm sure I would get bored if I stayed for very long. I think, the right place is somewhere between the middle of nowhere and the city. Somewhere not too empty and not too quiet, not too busy or demanding and not too noisy, like home but less than and more than.

It was almost disappointing reaching Albuquerque where the traffic got heavy, stores plentiful, stop lights and stop signs, overpasses, shopping centers, and houses climbing the hill sides. But my niece and her excellent family live here and I find conversation and comfort. From their living room is a panoramic view of the city that stretches all the way to the mountains beyond. I could get used to that view.

Photos!

Texas
The pecan trees.

Ahhhh, Texas. T'was really beautiful!

The wildflowers!

The creeks and the rocks!

The pictures are never really as wonderful as the real thing.

Ruidoso, New Mexico

Driving across west Texas was a little like a scene in one of those tornado movies where the purpose of the hero and heroine was to chase a tornado for scientific purposes, clock the winds, and gage the storm. There I was. Flat green and brown checkered fields stretching out in all directions while low, heavy, dark clouds shuffled for position in an ominous sky. No one else around, except for the eighteen wheeler a mile or so down the road in front of me. Very few buildings. A few oil wells slowly pumping. Then I saw it off my right shoulder. A cloud reached down to touch the earth, dust getting caught in the spiraling funnel, OH MY GOD! My eyes anxiously looking down the highway stretching out for miles in front of me. My mind wondering whether I should stay in the car, find a ditch to lay in (there really weren't any) or wrap myself around a.... a .......a what.....there's nothing to wrap around except telephone poles and that seemed like a lousy choice! I thought about how those movie chase teams actually were able to catch up with the tornado. I thought that if they could catch up with a tornado, then surely, I could out drive a tornado. Go fast. Straight ahead. Move it!

Then it was gone, disappeared, with just a few barely visible wisps of dust in the air. A few minutes of panic replaced by anxious relief. WooHoo once again! Although the inside of my car looks a little like the tornado (dust devil?) actually hit, it did not. The mess is my doing. All is well.

I've had a few other less exciting observations along the way.

There was the cowboy, with the proper boots and hat, sitting tall in the saddle on his horse, reigns in one hand.......cell phone in the other. I've seen many people walking the Gulf beaches back home while talking on their phones and I always thought that the phone didn't belong in the scene. But seeing a cowboy riding the range chatting with a phone to his ear, well, it spoils my mind's cowboy image! But gave me a little chuckle!

And why, when I am surrounded by refineries and oil fields filled with a forest of working pumps is the price of gas the highest I have had to pay on this road trip, twenty five cents a gallon higher? I don't get it.

I came across a drive-in theatre with a marque advertising the movie to be shown that evening. I haven't seen a working drive-in for eons. I thought that was cool. A little of touch from 1965.

Other observations are of a more personal nature.

I have noticed that after only a week, the knot in my stomach that has been with me for almost a year now has untied itself. I feel just fine. I'm hungry. No crying since my first night in a lonely campground. If I do happen to think about back home and "stuff," I feel like an observer rather than a participant, I am traveling through a different world right now. I have for a while, craved an actual conversation with my ex, maybe achieving a mutual forgiveness, letting go of resentment. But I know that is unlikely to happen, at least for a long long time. Tsk...

I think about, and I know this is dumb, that I am putting an awful lot of miles on my new car, that by the time I get home, my car will be less than a year old, but with a considerably higher odometer reading and with dust and dirt gathered under the hood and in the wheel wells. It was bright and young for such a short time. But I also know that I don't care. A dream is worth more than a car with low mileage. (This was my frugal nature rearing it's boring head once again.)

I tend not only to be frugal, but practical and conservative. I have always been better at saving than spending. I am careful. I am trying to change those tendencies somewhat, to think less about how much I am spending and spend what I need to enjoy this journey, to let tomorrow take care of itself, to enjoy today. I think I am having some success with this little goal.

I spent last night, and I am still here, at the Stizmark Motel in Ruidoso. Ruidoso is a little tourist town nestled among the dry hills with a lot of boutiques and restaurants. Tourist come mainly for the race track. The Stizmark is a little mom and pop place, with a log cabin exterior, flowers planted in barrels, bench swings in the front yard, log style bed, rustic, but very clean. I like it. It suits me. I was surprised to find working wireless Internet connection. It didn't seem to fit the atmosphere. I keep getting surprised, in so many little ways, by life in 2009.

While walking in town I stopped into a tiny nook of a restaurant to order a slice of pizza for lunch. I really wanted a cold beer with it. They didn't serve beer. The clerk told me I could go into the bar next door and she would bring the pizza over to me there. Different. So I did. This experience is significant because I think it is my first time walking into a bar alone. Being that it was lunch time, there weren't too many people inside so I was able to quietly sit at a table at the end of the bar, order a beer, eat the pizza when it arrived, and feel something new. Small potatoes, I know, not a tornado, but still, scary for me.

Doin' Ninety!

Big Springs, Texas (Cinco de Mayo, well, it was when I wrote this)

I'm crossing the USA in six hour intervals, which is about the number of hours I am willing to drive in a day. I surely hope that is enough to get me around and back in three months, given that some days I will not be moving from one place to another at all, but rather visiting or exploring where I am.

In Texas, however, one can go further in six hours than in most other places, which is a good thing because Texas is so BIG. The secondary highways I am traveling on here, are wide and flat, with very little traffic and one can go really fast. Don’t tell the Texas Rangers, but now I know that my new little Honda can do ninety or better, a speed not traveled anywhere back home in Florida, actually , a speed I have not traveled since my college days going from Ohio to Florida at Spring break when my girlfriend got a ticket for doing 100 in her Firebird somewhere in Georgia. But we were young and foolish. (Shhhhh, Grandma’s did 90 today, and I am not talking about age, WooHoo!) But even while moving along at 80 mph on the Texas byways, the view lingers, is not missed, because of the vastness of it all. I can see for miles and miles and miles from one high spot on the road. Don’t worry, I think this speed thing was a one time adventure. I’m done now.

As I travel through Texas I tried to burn the scenery into my mind, the colorful abundance of roadside wildflowers, the iron entrance gates of the ranches, the cows and the sheep grazing on the range and the barbed wire fences keeping them corralled, the profusion of tall silver windmills looking like some kind of scene out of “future world,” the gigantic vistas. I loved it all.

When I came upon a post office in the middle of nowhere, it occurred to me that a photograph from my camera couldn't’t possibly express how remote and lonely it feels out there, because you couldn't’t experience what was out of camera range, which was much more of what was in range, much much more.

I left Austin this morning. My stay and my visit were just wonderful. I wanted to live at the Lady Bird Johnson wildflower center, but there are no accommodations there, just flowers and gardens and well planned environmentally compatible water saving stone and metal buildings. It is the sort of place where you can just sit and feel peaceful and marvel at nature’s variety and colors. Ahhhhhhh!

I learned a lot about Austin history while riding a duck around the historical section of the city and while tooling around the lake a little. I am referring of course, to those metal Army style amphibious vehicles that tourists climb into for the city tour. They even let me keep the yellow plastic duck bill that I could blow into to make a loud, creepy, sarcastic quacking sound. Catches attention. Could come in handy?

A walk along Bull Creek, dinners out, cards and conversation filled another chunk of my Austin visit.

I stopped in San Angelo today and went to a place that once was a chicken farm, but now is an art center called appropriately the Chicken Farm Art Center. Chicken coops house studios and galleries of local artisans, a grain silo has become a restaurant and Bed and Breakfast, the “Inn at the Art Center”, and out buildings provide housing for the owner and artists in residence. Very cool place with stone carvers, glass blowers, painters and other crafters. It has been operating for quite a few years and vacant studios are rare. The place feels a little like a spiritual compound. I think that is because the people there are following their hearts and the dictates of their souls doing what they love, creating beautiful things, in the company of others who understand their passion. I could have stayed the night, but their are no windows in the solo bedroom and I need windows, not to mention how excruciatingly quiet it was behind those thick brick walls.

I was told by one of the Chicken Farm artists that San Angelo was the country’s largest city not on an interstate route. A claim to fame and interesting trivia.

It is easy while traveling to get caught up in the day to day, not think about yesterday or tomorrow or last year or next year. This is a good thing, because if I were to do that I could lose the magic of today. While I may think about home occasionally, it is with detachment, no worries, no concerns, just thoughts going on in my mind. Actually, my travel thoughts are unfocused, varied, light weight. Sometimes I can just relax in my own silence or get lost singing along with Johnny Cash.

Tonight marks the end of my first week on the road. It went by so fast!

At the end of each day I am tired. I want to read brochures and books and paint my impressions of something and write, organize the day’s expenses, keep a notebook of things seen and done, plan my future and think. But I am tired at the end of the day. And I don’t know weather to blame it on the traveling, age, residual fatigue or something else. I don’t know yet how, or if I should try to solve this issue. Maybe that is one of the attractions or consequences of travel, not doing things as we would if we were home, not feeling the same. I want this journey to last as long as I can. I don’t want to rush and yet I feel a pull. I want to slow down but not stop. And yet ……. Sometimes I don’t know what I want.

Austin

May 3, 2009 Austin, Texas:

Keeping the sun at my back in the morning and in my face in the evening, I drive, leaving
Florida and the all too familiar behind. I just head west. I am not good at researching a destination before I get wherever it is that I end up, nor do I pre-plan a specific route. In a way, I really do let fate and fancy guide me. Generally I just drive and arrive and see what’s there, wander around a bit, stop and look. Perhaps I miss some significant landmark or tourist attraction, but having few expectations, I am, for the most part, surprised and pleased at what I do find.

I am not opposed to asking directions, but after having done so, I don’t always follow them. Sometimes I try to follow my instinct, or guess, or think a way. Sometimes I get lucky and sometimes, well……it is just that I hate having to retrace my steps, hate having to go around whatever is in the way, hate going back to where I began and finding a new way to get where I thought I was going. So I get lost sometimes, for a while, but I am not opposed to asking directions, again. I think, I just gotta learn how to use that GPS!

Last night was my fifth night on the road. I spent it in a comfortable bed in my brother’s house, after a delicious steak dinner, a shared bottle of wine, and conversation. Perfect! It’s what I came here for.

Night before that, I slept at a basic Comfort Inn alongside I-10 in Louisiana. (Without some time spent on interstates, I don’t think that I would get very far, unable to put significant miles behind me.) Although I tried to get hot food, Wendy’s and Taco Bell didn’t have enough cooks or servers or anything, and consequently they had few customers who were willing to put up with the long wait. Neither would I. That night I climbed into bed and ate peanut butter, crackers and a banana for dinner washed down with a coke from the vending machine down the hall. I was feeling road weary. I am not particularly fond of Louisiana. Without New Orleans and Cajun food all that’s left is swamp and buildings in need of paint and repairs and an occasional oil refinery forest of steel.

The night before that, I camped at Big Lagoon State Park just outside of Pensacola, Florida. The campground was filled with people although I couldn’t really discern why. There were 126 campsites surrounded by swamps, sandbars, and the remnants of charred pine trees. I traversed the swamps on boardwalks eventually to circle back on a nondescript sandy path. Peanut butter and crackers for dinner again, washed down with a glass of wine.

I had stopped earlier in the day at an information center in Tammany Parish, LA where a nice volunteer recommended a restaurant down the way a bit where, I was told, they served the world’s best oyster artichoke soup. As I said before, I really don’t like oysters, nor am I crazy about artichokes, but I felt compelled to try the highly recommended soup just the same. Add the proverbial crackers and it made for a delicious and unusual lunch.

I find myself at this early stage in my travels wondering how I will ever find the time to do anything besides drive, eat, and sleep, with an occasional interruption in the routine to see a sight or two. Perhaps I was a bit too ambitious with my plan to circumnavigate the USA in three months. This is a really big country! Heck, Texas alone is gonna take some time. I brought plenty of reading material that I doubt I will have time to read, not to mention the paints and brushes that may never make it out of the tote bag. Not enough time. I have places to go, people to see, miles to drive.

I have not felt lonely the last four days. Life in this first week puts me very much in touch with my now. Thoughts revolve around where I am, what to eat, where to sleep, which CD to play. If I don’t think too much, life is simpler on the road. I feel like I am moving fast and moving slow all at the same time. I am disorganized. I brought all the wrong stuff. I brought too much stuff. I can’t find the corkscrew or the phone charger, or my sunglasses. My front seat is covered with maps, candy, scribble pads, receipts and food wrappers. My plan to take pictures, note expenses, and brush my teeth longer, has already been compromised.

My brother says, “You’ll get into a routine, you’ll get organized, you’ll work it out.” I hope he is right. I think he is right. I am counting on it! Maybe after a few more miles.

Hey! What day is today? May 1st? Was that Friday? Had I not been divorced, it would have been my (our) fortieth anniversary, probably spent at home, doing what we always do. Instead, here I was, somewhere new, just me by myself, and kinda happy!

You know, I thought I was going to dance all the way to Austin, relish the freedom, feel the pull of the road, and be giddy with anticipation. But instead I find myself quietly contemplative, carefully trying to figure out how to let go, how to make more time, be less weary at the end of the day, and relish that freedom! It’s all good. It’s all different. It’s all something I can’t quite describe.