BethanyRambling

Hee hee.

I wasn't gonna do it, cause I am a sucker for quizes and I spend too much time taking them and really they're just a bunch of crap anyway, but I couldn't help myself after seeing both Em's and Alison's. Look what classic movie I am!

What Classic Movie Are You?

How frickin' cool is that? I'm gonna go buy a whip.

Details.

Another day off that I ended up spending at work... the overtime just keeps racking up.

I did manage to find a swimsuit; $3 at WalMart, piss ugly, but what the hell. Haven't had to use it yet, though. I may go check it out tomorrow.

Rachael keeps bugging me for details. The truth is, I'm a little embarrassed about how sneaky I have to be, and how much a bum I am (even if it is willful). So here ya go. I spend 3 or 4 nights a week in the hospital parking lot in town. It's 5 minutes from work, if I have to be there early, it's well lit, there's always help nearby, and best of all, there is a space from 5 to 9 PM where the door is open but no one's at the front desk. So I can waltz right in without attracting attention and uncomfortable questions (what would I do if questioned? probably lie, invent someone in a coma), and head straight to the bathrooms.

I alternate that with nights out at the WalMart. Little more uncomfortable there, as there is rarely anyone else parking, and it's pretty blatant what I am doing. On the plus side, I don't have to try to jump into my truck without anyone seeing me. There is also a truck stop about 30 minutes away, where I don't have to hide at all, there's always a bathroom open, and I can get a shower for $5. Not too bad.

And that's it for my life. Work and sneakiness. I went to see a movie last night ("Torque", if you must know, and I'm not embarrassed cause it rocked. Except for the end where you get a Matrix-style fight with motorcycles; not on motorcycles, with motorcycles, and a really silly scene on "the fastest bike in the world." His cheek muscles actually started to fly back, like on the Gravitron. Enough of this aside) and ended up sneaking into a second (that one is embarrassing, so I'm not telling you).

This turned out to be quite difficult. They had 7 theaters, but they all let out at the same time! How silly is that? So I had to try to hide in an empty theater, praying they had already cleaned it, for over half an hour. I had my cell phone out, and I was all ready to fake an intense conversation with a boyfriend that would explain why I had to hide out in an empty theater.

Haven't started the low-tech yet. Maybe tomorrow. I found a nice little cafe with comfy seats in the back. I just can't bring myself to knit sitting on one of the standard issue metal chairs that all the places around here seem to have. I need an overstuffed chair, or an old beat-up couch. Or lots of other knitters and alcohol, and then I'll just sit on the ground.

The other night I woke up and the condensation inside my truck had frozen. Love traveling in winter. Actually, it didn't feel that bad. I love, love, love my sleeping bag.

Things I Couldn't Have Gone Without On This Trip:
- my sub-zero sleeping bag
- this blog
- supportive friends and family that aren't going to forget me while I'm gone
- the kindness of strangers
- happy curtains
- buddy Jesus on the dash
- and now his friend, the monkey-on-a-spring-wearing-a-shriner-hat (thanks Tara!)
- my eye-blinds (black with little skull & crossbones wearing pink bows)
- free AAA maps
- free AAA lockout card/key

I would give credit to more stuff and people, but that's all I can think of right now.

Mainly it's just that sleeping bag.

I think it needs a name. Let's have a name-the-sleeping-bag contest.

Okay, just ignore me, I'm in a strange mood. I am not sure I really want to sleep inside something named Burt or Edith. "Whatcha doin'?" "Oh, just crawling into Ralph."

I don't know if I am ever going to get 2 days off to go exploring, and I have pretty well exhausted the one day trips around here. Oh well, all the sooner I can go raring off on my own. I think I'll leave a few weeks
before I meet Rach, so I can spend some time lounging in the Keys, and on Sanibel Island, which people rave about.

Back to my parking lot for the night. I will lull myself to sleep with thoughts of a Margarita on pristine Gulf beaches. Maybe some storm clouds gathering off the coast, with enough breeze to rock my hammock gently, and the promise of a rip-roaring storm in the night.

Knitting Content (and a Comic Book)

I've done it again! I really need to budget my time better. I'm going to get kicked off shortly, so I'll make this brief.

First, I have to say this. Fishing Nebraska truck bear. Just because I was talking to someone about Google searches, and how great would it be if someone searched that and my site came up.

I had a good productive day off today. Still don't have a mailbox, though. Seems you have to have an address in order to sign up for one at the post office (no matter how many times you say, "but that's why I need a box, I can't get mail here", they won't bend). So I'll either do the general delivery thing, or pony up the money at MBE. Or I may write a letter to myself at work, then take it in as proof of address. Ooo. That seems sneaky and brilliant.

No swimsuit yet; searching WalMart tonight. Okay, now it sounds like my day wasn't productive. But it was, I swear! I turned in all my crappy novels and got a whole new batch of crappy novels. Strange that I brought tons and tons of real, deep, non-fiction books, and still all I read is crap. I bought a comic book. Just one. I'm limiting myself. And, showing great restraint, I am waiting until tonight to tear into it. (I passed up Grendel for a back issue of Danger Girl; more semi-mindless crap, but I love it!!)

What else... went to have tea, but the place was packed! No tables to be had for at least an hour, and this before noon on a weekday. Must go back there, it must be fabulous. It's called the Mad Hatter, and there is a little one across the street from my work, but this is the big one in St. Mary's.

And the big news. I finished my tank top. Finally. And it sucks as much as I feared. The back hangs down to my knees, the front threatens to get me a ticket for indecent exposure, and I could easily fit another small person in there. But the shape is fabulous! And you can barely tell where I fucked up on the cables. Oh well, I'll wash it in hot hot water and hope rayon shrinks. Pictures will follow, even if they suck.

Okay, they are glaring at me. Now I am off to start my low tech sweat (although now, all I really want is the Rogue hoody Rachael is working on. Damn her).

Blast.

No time to blog at all, they are turning out the lights on me!! Suffice it to say that I did not get my day off today. Day after tomorrow.
Maybe.

Swim

Pic of me at Theresa's house (a friend made through this blog, yippee!)

The rec center was definitely a good tip! There is one less than 5 minutes away! The only program they have in the winter is a lap swim from 7 to 9, but that's perfect (as soon as I get a suit). I can dip in, get a little exercise, take a shower, and be at work by 10. Rock on. I actually didn't see a shower facility, but I didn't get all the way back, and if they have a pool, they must have a shower, right?

Damn, I hate being away from a computer for too long. I had all these fabulous posts lined up in my head, and now they are all gone. Oh well.

Saturday was my first day off, and I fully enjoyed it. Headed out to a National Forest a couple hours away for some hiking. Got there, and discovered I really was too lazy to even get out of the car. Plus there were bugs. Real big ones. Wasp-y looking things about the size of my pinky. I'm a wuss. And my DEET exploded in my glove box. Strangely enough, my calamine lotion also exploded. Someone doesn't want me messing with the bugs.

So I got another hotel room (okay, maybe I needed the one last week, but this was just weak), and sat and knitted and watched TV and embroidered. I love french knots. I am almost done with a matching set of black hand towels with cherries in french knots in the corner. AND I'm almost done with my Paton's Katrina tank top; only the arm shaping on the front, and the straps left! I love finishing things! I'm full of love today, did you notice? For everything except the bugs.

I fell asleep last night fantasizing about Gambit, and had the greatest X-men dream ever. It sort of morphed into a strange one, where I and 3 midgets were being sent to the moon, but we never took off because we
couldn't get our rockets packed right. I was shoving a jacket into my cowboy boots to make space when I woke up.

Hmmm.

I keep forgetting what I have to do on my days off. So here's my laundry list, lucky you. Stop reading now, unless you want a case of terminal boredom.
-buy swimsuit
-check out PO boxes
-trade in books
-needles from LYS
-groceries

You'd think with a list that short, I could remember parts of it. Well, now that I've written it down I will. Thanks for bearing with me in boredom.

Well Fed

Nothing to say today, but I am starting to get the bloggers itch... ooo, that sounds dirty. I meant that feeling at the tips of your fingers when you haven't blogged for almost 24 hours already! The facial tic kicks in at 48, and if something really exciting happens and you can't get to your computer, your head may explode within 72 hours.

Started training at yet another aspect of my job today, as a financial secretary. Needless to say I won't be talking much about that one. Not that it's uninteresting, there are just some things you should not write about online if you relish your job (and probably your freedom - I think that may be a felony).

Still having fun, and I am truly well fed now. I get whatever I want off the home-cooked menu for a meal, and all the sweet tea I can drink. Today it was mashed potatoes, green beans, fried chicken, and a broccoli and cheese soup thing. Excellent.

Still not relishing heading back to my parking lot. I want to put it off as long as possible, but if I do that, it gets dark, and I really fucked up my headlight directions when installing that last lamp. I know, I know, I was so proud... now I blind everyone in my path. And not with my automotive prowess.

The light outside has taken on that orangish haze that says it's time to go. So here I go. I'm a-goin'. Watch me go. Woo hoo, I'm speeding out the door now. Maybe I'll go find that dilbert book again...

Gone-to-Seed

Rachael made me promise to tell you about my moment of weakness. For the most part, I have been good, not paying for anything. There's no cheap place to stay here anyway; even the one campsite is $25. So it's been hospital and WalMart parking lots for me, with the odd rest stop thrown in, when I want to drive further.

However, last week I was headed out to a truck stop 45 minutes away for my shower (strange how a shower has become a major event; "what did you do today?" "ran some errands, wrote a novel, took a shower"), and when I got there, it just wasn't working for me. Truckstops in the north are happy grungy places I feel comfy in, with waitresses named Marge that everyone calls Mom. Truckstops in the south are breeding grounds for confederate flags and missing teeth. Not bad to stop at, nice folks, but I really don't feel 100% comfortable getting naked and/or sleeping there.

Plus, every single one down here charges $7, and one was only for "professional truck drivers." Well, driving a truck is what I do, does that count? No, I don't get paid for it, but come on, I need a shower!
Anyway, these are all lame excuses. Mainly I wanted to veg and knit and do something past dark.

So I bought a six pack of beer, a cheesecake, and got a cheap motel room. 'Course it's hard to knit on a six pack, so I basically just watched cable and jumped on the bed. I am really not good at not spending.

I got off work at 3 yesterday, and didn't have to work until 4 today, so it was time for a mini-trip. I headed down to Daytona Beach, with a few specific spots to hit. First, Dummott's Tomb in New Smyrna Beach. I have no idea why this was on my list, I don't know who Dummott was, but for some reason, his tomb is in the middle of a small residential street, on a little island. Strange. Possibly more interesting once I discover who he is.

Second stop was Elephant Fantasyland. This sounded great, one of the creepy fairyland kinda things that popped up for kids in the 70's. I was expecting fabulous big statues and photo ops. What I got was a brand new, very elegant municipal park. Apparently the city decided they had to rid themselves of the tacky. What a bummer. I hope this isn't a trend. Someday cities will realize that tacky things can bring tourist revenue. I may have bought a T-shirt of an elephant fantasy, you never know. Instead we have a nice, boring, beige-toned park. Sigh.

Final stop was DeLeon Springs, Ponce's fountain of youth. Well, by the time I got there, I only had an hour, and it cost $5, and there was considerably more to do in there than an hour's worth. So I thanked the ranger for telling me all the selling points, and turned around to head back north.

Put that way, it sound like the trip was a bust. In reality, it was great. I found the Florida I had been missing! Just outside of Daytona I started to hit the tourist-trap-gone-to-seed that I had in my head. Miles of brightly colored motels with itty bitty white lights, and shit nailed to the wall. Bars everywhere, with names like The Iron Horse, and Mac's. One bar had a big bronze of a soldier mid-charge, holding a POW-MIA and a USA flag. He was bungee-corded to a pillar so he could charge the right direction. Then there was the Pink Pony, The Home of The Lap Dance, advertising Topless Girls, Totally! I think they meant totally nude, but it came out in a valley girl voice.

Yay! Here was the seedy underbelly I was looking for, in the bright sunlight with nothing to freak out about. Everything looked like a motel, even the thrift stores and motorcycle shops. And every time the natural world was allowed to peek through, you got glimpses of spanish moss and marshes, or a little inlet and islands.

So even though the things I looked for on the drive were unexciting/nonexistent, the drive itself was fabulous. And the drive is the point anyway.

Workin'

I looked at the schedule this morning, and, in one job or another, I was working every day but Saturday. Then one of the waiters came in and asked if I could work in the evening on that one day.

Well it ain't like I'm doing anything else. And I pretty much love this job. I'd rather be at work any day. Although I have precious little time to knit these days. I was stoked yesterday because I still had an hour of daylight when I got out. I managed to get another inch or so on my tank top that I started about a year ago. I know I could find someplace to sit and knit, but then I have to pay for the coffee, and I always end up getting a pastry of some sort, and, well, it adds up. In the debts and in the thighs. So darkness means sleep time for me. I feel like I'm nine again.

I have now waitressed every shift, and I am starting to feel confident in the front office. I still don't know a Hurricane from a Sex on the Beach, but I'll get there. I close tomorrow night, so maybe we'll get some bar action.

It's been so busy, I haven't even had a tour of the rooms yet. I've seen pictures, though, and I can assure you they are fabulous. And on Thursday I start some computer work for them.

Okay, nothing to talk about except work. That sort of bites. I've been spending my evenings hunched over maps with my flashlight, planning out day trips. I'm getting an idea for how far I can go in one day, and I am planning accordingly for when I have one day off, two, or (although I doubt this will happen) three. Oh the stories I shall tell then.

Interesting Facts: Amelia Island is the only place in the United States that eight flags have flown over! French, British, Spanish, American, Confederate, and three guys who thought they were so cool, they needed their own flag. One of them was a pirate by the name of Aubrey. Pirates were bad men. The vermin of the seas. Little rodent-like men, misogynistic, with definite issues. I should really not like pirates.

One day, if I say it often enough, that will sink in.

Jumping In

Okay, I think I have somehow found the perfect job (for me, for right now). The Inn is a beautiful historic old building, circa 1857, recently remodeled. The view from the front portico is of the entire historic downtown, with a hint of the ocean and port just two blocks away.

Did I mention the Zebra rug in the bar? I think I did, but it merits a second mention. And I don't mean a shag rug with zebra stripes. I mean a whole
dead zebra, minus the innards, smacked down on the floor. Cool.

When I got there, it was already going crazy. Yes, it's the slow season, but it's also a holiday weekend, so we were booked solid. The manager kept starting to show me something, then the phone would ring. So I just kind of jumped in. After my last job with its 4 weeks of training, I expected to be censured; on the contrary, it was expected. So, with no direction from anyone (or at least very little), I found myself 1) opening, pouring, and serving wine and cokes, 2) cleaning and resetting tables, 3) delivering room service, 4) serving heaping bowls of grits and green beans, and 5) standing behind the bar chatting like a good bartender should. I loved it.

I think my job, when I really get into it, will be more of the same, that is to say, doing everything. The General Manager who was training me jumped around like crazy, clipping the phone to his belt while he chopped apples, toasted bread points, wiped tables, rang up beer... Did I mention I love this? Never a dull moment, and they understand that you do have a good head on your shoulders and can figure shit out.

No doubt in time I will be missing the 8 hours of standing around playing with puppets and tap dancing to keep me awake, but for now, this is pretty damn perfect.

The people are excellent as well. All southern charm and friendliness. My mood is turned completely around; maybe Florida is okay after all. Of course the manager is from Savannah, and half of the people live on the other side of the Georgia border 10 minutes away, but whatever. This is all right.

For today... nothing. I am craving cheesecake and knitting, so I will seek out a cafe after this to while away the afternoon. I cleaned out my car and re-organized this morning, after sleeping gloriously in and finishing a book. I am not going to move much at all. There is a Frog-leg festival down in southern Florida that I am missing, but I couldn't make it in time, and really, they just taste like chicken anyway.

Bad Boys

My new job starts in 1 hour, 11 minutes, and 41 seconds. Getting a little oogy/nervous. Oh well, I can just pour myself a shot of courage when I get there.

Feeling better today; mainly because I got out of Florida for a while! I went up to St. Mary's, Georgia, and I can't avoid the feeling that I just like Georgia better! It seems more southern, and pleasant. Of course that was a much smaller town that had no job openings, so maybe it's just that I like the small places that I can't afford to stay in. Anyway.

I got to thinking last night about bad boys. I have no idea why. Anyway, I managed to draw a parallel to my experiences in Florida, and on the road in general, to bad boys, and the whole bad boy fixation.

We all know that bad boys have an allure. A very strong allure. A very, very, very... Anyway. We all want to take them by their black leather clad arm, and lead them in the right direction, without erasing that evil glint in their eyes.

The only problem is that bad boys are just that. Bad. Take, for example, pirates. Arrr. Mmm. No one really wants to be robbed at swordpoint, possibly raped, and then fed to sharks. It's not a pleasant fate. But when Johnny Depp does that little swagger...

So here's the parallel (at long last). Florida, in my head at least, has always been the "bad boy" state of America. Slightly seedy, a little dirty, but hot and sexy as hell. I can't count the number of mystery novels I have read that have been set here. Drug runners, murderers, mafia men hiding in the Keys, it all made a very strong connection in my head.

Don't get me wrong; I think Florida probably is like that, at least a little. But I'm too damn smart to find out. I don't go walking down those dark alleys at night. I don't wander into bars in rough and tumble neighborhoods. Just like I know better nowadays than to fall for a badass in leather with a switchblade knife. I'm really not that dumb.

But it all leaves me a little frustrated. Because that draw is still there, very strong. I want to see the seedy side of Sears (sorry, that just popped out, and I don't delete anything). I want to meet a contact in a dark, dirty bar. I want my pirate. Damn it. The brains and the id are doing battle.

So that's me. Frustrated in Florida.

*I dated a good guy that looked like a bad boy once; that worked out quite well. I have high hopes for Jersey*

The Glam Life

The road is starting to get to me, I think. It's so dark, and hard, and it just goes on and on...

Geez, that could be the punchline to a really raunchy joke.

No, I am still having a fabulous time. I just freaked out a little bit yesterday. I am having trouble finding affordable (read: free) showers, camping, or lodging. There are some truck stops less than an hour away, but I think that's the best I can do, short of leaping a fence at the marina. I think their security is pretty good, unfortunately.

My sister suggested pet sitting, so I'm putting up some fliers, my dad suggested churches (this from the atheist!), so I'm going to church on Sunday. We'll see if anything pans out.

In addition to that, my tire started hissing air and deflating practically as I was watching last night. I managed to slap some duct tape on it (praise the allmight duct tape), and the valve looked like it would hold overnight. If not, I didn't know what to do, cause I had let my AAA membership expire, and I had no idea how to access my spare.

Then I found a spider in my bed. Things were not looking good last night.

Today is quite a bit better. I got some veggies into my diet (I had forgotten how to eat on the road), the duct tape fix held, the real fix at the service station was only $5, and I had a nice day of wandering and squandering the little gas I have left.

Haven't seen anything thrilling yet, I'm sorry to have to tell you. Florida seems to be a mass of strip malls and palm trees, with some really cool swamps thrown in. That's not fair, the beaches are lovely. I just don't feel like being fair. This place makes me homesick, and Rachael's hanging out and babying momma today, and I wish I could be there.

Sigh. Well, off to my parking lot. Oh my glamorous life.

DISCLAIMER

Okay, I just remembered that the last time I had a pity fest here, I got way too much sympathy and sincere concern over my mental welfare and horrible plight. Please don't worry about me; I really like to exaggerate. How interesting is it if I say, eh, everythings all right. So-so, I guess. No, I would prefer to hold my hand to my forehead and swoon. It's all an affectation. But thank you all for caring.

Guess What?

I saw my first sunrise over the Atlantic this morning. I crashed in a hotel parking lot that had public beach access, and public parking. I made myself get up for an early morning run, and saw the sun coming up over the ocean.

This is a big deal for me. The ocean is a huge part of my life, I've always lived near it. Except it's always been the Pacific, and sunsets. One of my goals of this trip was the sunrise, and now have a little mental checkmark. It was great. Almost abandoned, too; only a couple local joggers and one obvious tourist in a leather jacket taking pictures.

I've been island hopping down the coast, from Hilton Head to St. Simon's yesterday. I liked St. Simon's so much, I planned on staying there to find a job. I got a paper, circled relevant items, broke out the fancy clothes, and headed to the mainland to find a shower. After that, I found myself heading south, and was reluctant to stop. So I continued my hopping, and ended up on Amelie Island, in sunny Florida. I'm a little sad; I have to return to St. Simon's to see the ghost lights in Christ Church Cemetary, and find the rest of the tree spirits (you'll understand when the pictures come), but I am happy to be here. This looks like a cool place.

Since I was still in my fancy duds, I decided to waste no time, and start the job search. The paper had nothing, and I started to doubt my decision. Especially since everyone I talked to said they wouldn't be hiring until February when things start to pick up. I wandered anyway, and filled out applications at every restaurant that would take one.

I start work on Friday.

The trick is to go in everywhere and ask, whether they are advertising or not. Restaurants and hotels always need help. I found a spot at a bed and breakfast with a southern-style family dining room, and a fine dining area opening up very soon. But I'll probably be working in the bar primarily.

I sounded very nonchalant there, didn't I? That was my aim. Really I am jumping up and down (and in a public library, that stands out). I have been wanting to work in the bar ever since I started waitressing. I think 90% of waitresses really want to be the cool chick that supplies your alcohol. And you should see the bar! Old, dark wood, built in 1857, with a zebra skin on the floor. I'm in love. And apparently it's pretty laid back, not too busy. Which means less tips, but more fun, in my head.

Now I am off to find a campground; with a job, I need a reliable place to wash my hair fairly regularly. Adieu to greasy road hair. (Already? too soon, too soon) I think I will have to take many mini-trips to keep me happy here. Luckily, I have lot's of spots nearby highlighted with strange, weird roadside attractions. The underwater Jesus is nearby, and the Museum of Military Mistakes. Very curious about that one.

After waking up sometime after noon, I managed to get on the road around 2. I think I should have slept later, and maybe stayed another day recuperating. I hate driving at night, and I hate driving with somewhere to be, and I hate driving hung over. All of which I was that day.

It was worth it, though. I got to Charleston just before 9, and so I was able to make it into the 9:30 ghost tour of the historic downtown. I think I'm in love with our guide. He wore a black leather jacket and little yellowed skulls were hanging from his lanyard, and he was the best storyteller ever. At one point he actually threw himself to the ground, writhing, while describing a headless, legless, armless ghost of a confederate soldier. And such use of dramatic pauses!

I was grinning and laughing the whole way (discretely!), but his patter really did its job. When walking back to my car at the end of the night, I had the distinct feeling that if I looked in the right window, if I twirled around at precisely the right moment, something unnatural would be there.

Nothing was there, of course, but that didn't stop me from twirling along like a fool.

I returned the next morning to take a few pictures, then it was on down south to Savannah. Except I still haven't reached Savannah. I've been distracted, by ruined churches and gullah museums, by natural preserves, and gators! I spent last night in Hilton Head (golf courses and shopping centers, all hidden coyly by the forest), then backtracked to Beaufort and St. Helena Island, on some information stolen from books in Barnes and Noble. If you sit there and read them, writing everything you need down, you don't have to buy the damn things! Sock it to the corporate man.

It's almost one now, and I am still not sure if I'll make it to Savannah today. The distance, for those not in the know, is regularly less than 2 hours. And I think I am stretching it to 3 days. A new personal best!

Thanks to billy, for showing me that I too am DeeDee Ramone at heart.

From A Reader

(Posted by Theresa, who hosted Bethany for a couple of days:)

We're sad here in SC - Bethany is on the road again and we're still here! Now that everyone knows you're not an axe-murderer who dumps bodies in swamps you may meet some more fans along the way. It was wonderful having you here and I insist you come back again, or I'll come out to California to visit you. And that IS a threat!

10 times better than drunk dialing, it's... drunk blogging!

The computer is in the room I am sleeping in at Theresa's, and I couldn't resist.

It's 6:15 in the morning, and I just got back. First we hit the Joint for a few drinks and a good band, and then Jessica took me to one of her buddy's houses. It made me nostalgic for the Millbrae boys back home. The only thing different was the accent. We played drinking games until the wee hours of the morning, then hit the Huddle House for grits and eggs and bacon (just like Millbrae House of Pancakes, but with grits). Way fun.

The only thing is, I am about 3 years older than the oldest of them. Written down, that looks like the nothing that it is. 3 years? That's nothing. It takes twice that long to get a degree, right? Good, I don't feel so old now.

I am old enough that I need bed now, so this entry is over. Stay young, y'all.

No Axe Murderers

Yay, no axe murderers here, only very nice, welcoming people. I'm still very hesitant about getting on the road, so it's nice to have a place to chill out and knit in the warmth. I am almost done with my Gap skinny scarf in Noro (so nice to work with!), and as it's still cold out, I haven't felt up to the tank top yet. Which means I will be able to start the low-tech very soon!

Theresa's daughter Jessica showed me around town today. We checked out the campus (pretty, old, orange stuff everywhere), had lunch, and bought headlights and turn signals to repair my darkened baby. I did the headlight myself (and in under half and hour - I rock!), but the turn signal defeated me. There aren't any screws! How do I get in there?

Oh yeah, y'all probably don't even know about the turn signal. I swore it was too embarassing to tell, but I have no shame. I was pulling out of the hostel, waving to all the folks that had come outside in the snow to see me off, when suddenly, crunch! Who parked that car there? There's never a car there! Luckily he was a HUGE truck, and didn't even get a scratch. I lost one whole side of lights.

The weird thing is, it's not the lights that got crunched that aren't working! The turn light is the one above all those. I think the tail lights and the brake lights still work fine, in spite of the crumbled glass. So I can't just pop the light in and cover it with red tape, I have to figure out how to get the glass off. Sheesh. Can't it be easy, for once?

Tonight Jessica is showing me the nightlife of Clemson. We're going to a private club called the Joint, to see a really cool band. Is it just California that doesn't have private night clubs? Out here you can stay open later if you are a members only institution. Cool. Party all night long!

On The Road Again

The sun was going down when I was somewhere over Oklahoma on my flight home, and it was the most stunning thing I have ever seen. We were above a thick cloud cover that glowed orange and red, as the sky changed its hues. A crisp full moon rose at the same time, and I was up there for all of it.

I'm so silly. I know flying should be old hat by now, but I think that every time I see a sight like that, I will be awed.

Tach is doing just fine; a little musty, a little cold, and one headlight is out now to match the taillight in the back, but I'll fix both of those tomorrow, and all will be well. I was not as stoked about traveling as I should have been yesterday, although I was glad to be reunited with him. To raise my spirits, and to get me out of the 30 degree weather, I decided to treat myself to a motel room (courtesy of the sisters; thanks, gals!). So I spent my first night back on the road the same way I have spent the past 2 months; on the bed, in front of the tube, zoning. I have to break back into this gradually.

I can't believe it's been so long since I have actually been driving my way. Over 3 months, I think. Crazy.

Tonight is another comfortable night. I am staying with a fabulous knitter named Theresa, who I met through this blog! We were very pleased to discover that neither of us are axe murderers (although the night is still young; if you don't hear from me tomorrow...), and we are planning a nice quiet night of knitting. Yay!

The only hard thing is that she already knows all of my stories, having read my blog. How am I supposed to pay for my keep? I have to entertain some way. In the future, I will have to leave one or two incredible stories out, so I can treat those who open their house to a virtual stranger. For tonight, maybe I'll just make one up.

"Far in the wilds of North Dakota, I came upon my first Sasquatch..."

Not much going on here... just chilling out, switching between "Friends" and "Charmed", listening to Little Boy bang away. Won't miss that, definitely. Will miss everything else. Sigh.

I had a few goodbyes with my friends that I won't be seeing before I leave the day after tomorrow. I really liked being around people that knew me in my young and foolish days. Yes, driving around the country alone is kind of young and foolish, but I mean REALLY young and foolish. I mean reeeeeally... okay, maybe it won't be so bad to go back to mingling with strangers. Fresh start and all that.

Katy is having a Limoncello party at the end of this month, to celebrate the maturity of the alcohol she started in Italy. I won't be here. Sigh. I'll be in Florida. Yay!

Totally maudlin and confused tonight. I think I'll log off and dwell in the muddle for a while. This calls for a bath, a glass of wine, and comic books with angry, sardonic teens in them.

fine, ddr photos

I wasn't gonna do it, cause it's too pathetic, but Kara's going to kick my ass if I don't. So here you go.

And that's all you're getting from me today.

If by life or death I can save you...

I was a-wandering today, and I was led to the What kind of Sci-Fi character are you page. I'm Aragorn!

Sigh. Actually, I want to jump Aragorn's bones, but that's close enough. How did they know?

I decided to go ahead with my plans to cross swords with Jeff today, sore as I was from DDR. Tons of fun. I wonder where I can find people on the road to play with shenai swords? I wonder if I spelled that at all right? Shnai? ShanI? Shee-it.

yet another drunken post

I have a serious question I need help with. How in hell does one make time to read every book out there, see every movie, watch at least a few of the less pathetic television shows (and some that are so pathetic it's funny), knit a sweater every other week, cook gourmet dinners, find a mathematical equation to explain the platypus, make time for friends, and still find the time to fucking exercise? Because that always seems to be the area of my life that suffers, and today I am suffering because of it.

We had games night at my friend Kara's tonight. Silly me, I was picturing Pictionary, or Trivial Pursuit, refined, sedate games. Instead I was forced to endure about 3 and 1/2 hours of Dance Dance Revolution (DDR, to those in the know). Which is pretty much the best game in the known universe. As well as the most sadistic. Or masochistic, or whatever, all I'm saying is it can be painful. In a good way.

You may have seen some crazy teens in the arcades, spinning and stomping their feet to the beat, as the neon lights up their sweaty faces. Some genuis at Playstation decided that maybe people would like to sweat at home, or at least get to the point that they don't look totally ridiculous before heading out to Dave and Buster's. Thus, the home version of DDR was born.

I can safely say that I am one of the suckiest players ever. But I had a blast.

The margaritas helped. Maybe.

The last time I was at an arcade, I saw a virtual boxing machine. I am just waiting for the day when Tae-bo becomes interactive, and Billy whatsisname beats your ass black and blue, until the day you play your 300th game and are finally able to butterfly kick him in the balls.

Sore and tired, I shall retire now. Tomorrow I have to start my Rocky-style training, so I can be a contender the next time we dance the night away. I'll be ready, dude.

beginnings

I have a firm belief you should spend the New Year holiday doing exactly what you want to do the rest of the year. I took a road trip, drank quite a bit (in a party setting, not an I'm-so-alone-I-need-a-drink type setting), knitted, and hung with friends. Not bad. Ooo, and I got a man to cook an excellent meal for us. Perfect.

My sisters and I took the convertible down to Pescadero, for some good backroads, and ollallaberry pie. It wasn't really convertible weather, but it wasn't raining, so the top stayed down.

If you have a convertible, you should be contractually obliged to use it. It makes driving so much more fun. We took the long way down, on the best roads in the nation (Really, by the end of my travels I will be able to say that with authority). Hwy 35, and Pescadero Road. Ahhh.

We wandered our way back, broke out the Buffy, and the champagne, and knitted our way into the new year with Kira and Rachel. The next day I headed into the city, and had a wonderful dinner at Nate's house with lots of friends. I drank some more, and we played 3-5-7 until it was time to meet everyone at the bar for, you guessed it, more knitting. Here's Nate, with his finished beer cozy. After about a year, he now has a pair! (they are for bottles, not pints, so it looks a little strange)

I woke up this morning to Little Boy next door, and his brand new full drum kit. Happy Christmas, everyone. This is gonna get old real quick. Poor Rachael, she has to live next to him. And she had a migraine this morning. I offered to kick his ass for her, but she is still full of holiday goodwill. Maybe tomorrow.

Oooo, I now have 3 people linking to me!! How exciting is that! Everyone that didn't come to me through them should go check them out. There's Billy, who kindly offered me a driveway in England if Tach ever makes it that far, and Willa, webmistress extraordinaire. And, of course, Rachael.