Only Connect

Ahhhh, connectivity. . . .

For once, I have an excellent reason for the 3-1/2 weeks since my last blog: I've been adrift, alone, unconnected to the world. And now, finally (well, yesterday), I got re-connected. YAY!!!

To explain: since I left Austin, I've spent 2 nights in hotels, which were the only times my computer has been able to get on the internet. And since I arrived here in Aiken, my cell phone has been unable to find more than 1 bar (and usually not even that) of signal--and to find that one bar has required that, whenever my phone rings or I want to place a call, I've had to leave my house and talk out in the driveway. In 93-degree heat AND 100% humidity! NOT an ideal situation.


[Speaking of my driveway in Aiken reminds me that, for most of last week, an empty ABF trailer sat in it (since ABF didn't come to pick it up until Thursday). That's getting a little ahead of my story, but I wanted to include a picture of the trailer as it was parked for loading at the apartment building in Pasco. Here it is, and please note that my apartment was on the far side of the building at the left. The movers figured they walked an extra 10 miles to cart everything all the way around the building and get it into the trailer!]

Back to my explanation. To check my email, I've traveled each evening to the hotel near here where I spent the last night before my furniture got moved into my house and asked if I could use their business center for that purpose. They've graciously allowed me to do that. But as of yesterday, I've solved both problems: Atlantic Broadband installed cable/internet/phone service, so I am now--after three weeks--reconnected to the outer world. It has really been an experience, living as we did back in the 1960s and 1970s, with only snail mail to keep me in touch. If I hadn't had some time in the car with NPR, I wouldn't know that we lost Ed MacMahon, Farah Fawcett, and that Michael guy--what's his name? Michael Jordan? Michael Jones? Whatever.

But that's all behind me--as is the whole move--and I want to set down here some of the more exciting points of my trip for those of you who might be interested. It'll take me 2-3 postings to get it all in, I expect, but bear with me. Or go read something else--I'll never know and there will NOT be a quiz.

Let's see: I left Pasco on Sunday, June 7, after JR, my wonderful mover (that's him on the left), and his cohort, Brian, had packed all my stuff. JR and I cleaned up the apartment and then I took him to Outback (his favorite place) for a well-earned prime rib dinner. We spent the night at the Best Western next to the Pasco Airport. On Sunday morning, we took the moving equipment and extra boxes back to U-Haul, took one last look around the apartment, and then I put JR on a plane back to Las Vegas, and I headed east and south towards Austin.

Backing up a bit, here's JR with his handiwork. He packs stuff as if he were doing a jigsaw puzzle. He is truly amazing! Here, the trailer is almost packed--the twelve linear feet at the back end of the trailer, that is. When they were done, JR put up a barrier, and then ABF filled the rest of the trailer with other loads that went other places.


Also want to show you the rains that didn't come until we were all through with the job. It was really a perfect day for a move!








That first day I traveled 635 miles, stopping long after dark in North Salt Lake City, Utah. The things that stand out on that leg of the trip are 1) my lunch at Nell's-n-Out in La Grande, OR, where I had the best french fries I've ever had in my life, along with some pretty doggone good fish and a memorable milkshake; 2) the fact that, when I reached the Best Western where I spent the night, Steve at the front desk let me leave my car (which contained all of the things I treasure the most) right in front of the hotel where the light was strong and he could watch it for me; and 3) the GORGEOUS scenery in Oregon, Idaho, and Utah. The unfortunate thing is that I couldn't/didn't stop to take lots of pictures. But trust me, I was constantly doing an "Ahhhh" or "WOW!" or "Ooooo"--and wishing that my bamboo plant could talk back to me and let me know that I really was seeing all this beauty.

I'm including a picture here of some gorgeous Oregon scenery, but I remember particularly the storms in Idaho. There'd be lightning off in one direction or another, and then a spattering of rain on the windshield--with huge spectacular cloud formations in every direction around me. And I'd say, "Thanks for all of this--it is truly unbelievable. But I don't want any rain on the roads I'm traveling, please, since I'm leery of planing in the water/oil slick that initial rainfall creates." [My hesitancy comes from nearly getting killed when my car planed in Tennessee in 1984.] And sure enough, the spattering of rain would pretty much stop. I make no claims (other than my usual one of focusing on what I want in my world), but I have to say that for three of the four days of my trip to Austin, I was constantly surrounded by clouds and storms but almost never even had to put on my windshield wipers.

I'm grateful for that, and also for the fact that I stopped when I did on that first night (here's where my car spent the night--right at the front door!), because, if I'd gone on, I'd have missed the most spectacular scenery of my whole trip, which was the mountains surrounding Salt Lake City and the passes I went through heading east out of Salt Lake City and into Wyoming. The traffic and construction in Salt Lake City on Monday morning was a challenge, especially because my jaw was constantly dropping as I tried to take in the scenery, but suffice it to say that I made it--and will forever have those gorgeous mountains in my head.

It's funny: I've always thought of myself as an ocean person, since my favorite spot on earth is Bustins Island, Casco Bay, Maine. But now that I've pretty much left the mountains behind, after 2-1/2 years surrounded by them, I'm finding that I miss them--perhaps even more than I do the ocean when I have to leave it. Wonder what that's all about. . . .

Well, the only other thing to say about this leg of the trip is that, when I figured things up that night in my North Salt Lake City hotel room, I found that my trusty 1999 Toyota Camry had done all those miles at the phenomenal rate of 33.5 miles per gallon. Pretty good, right? But you ain't seen nothin' yet, folks!

I'm going to stop at this point, put in a few pictures, and save the next leg for my next posting. Hope that'll be tomorrow--but no promises.