A Photographic Interlude

The punchline to the trip is that we made it, so there.

"Thee Phurther Adventures of..." will return tomorrow.

Here's some pics to get up to date with our story:

Prior to the farewell party at Mustafa and Kathy's on Sunday, we had folks over for a help-us-drink-all-of-our-alcohol party.



This stuff is amazing. Italian Cham-pag-nay!


Elaine wonders, "What happened to all the stuff?"



Very sad and fond farewell to the mighty Polypterus. We hope you enjoy your new home.


The night before the departure. Sleeping on the floor sucks.


Nestled in at Wall, SD.

The Great Northern Route, Part Deux

Leaving, Day 1

After Jill’s skillful packing of the car, we loaded Zoe, Arya, and Elaine into their respective slots for the trip. The cats were stacked in separate carriers in the front seat. Elaine was in the middle of the back seat, attended by an adult on one side. Thus, the non-driver could not see the road ahead, and the driver could not see the view to the right. This was fine for the first day, as we took turns driving and sleeping for about 22 hours. Jill took the first shift, from Ann Arbor to the suburbs beyond Chicago. I got us to Minnesota, and Jill went about 4 hours to dawn. I had about an hour of Minnesota and 2 hours of South Dakota. A few hours later, Jill ran into some bad weather and called 511. They recommended no travel west of Rapid City, which was less than an hour away, so we pulled off and booked a room at the Day’s Inn in Wall, SD.

In a bit more detail…Elaine and I snoozed for the first leg of the journey. The cats had their say, in turns, to register their dissatisfaction with the suite of decisions that had landed them in carriers. Jill, having not slept for about 41 hours, crashed out for the second leg. Thus, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin were resolved with a minimum of fuss. Dry roads and light traffic made it a swift and pleasant night. However, as I approached Minnesota, a fog had begun to settle in, particularly after crossing the Mississippi. So the third leg ended up being quite difficult for Jill, as she strained to see through the pea soup. She says that she tried waking me a few times, but that I was just completely out.

When I took over Minnesota duties, it was just barely dawn and still a bit foggy. Flat and farmy, there wasn’t much in the way of a view. Eventually, as the light increased, I was able to make out larger stretches of the landscape. Ghostly wind farms rose out of the rolling hills, white steel on white mist. Faint red barns emerged through the haze, and traffic picked up. All was quietly beautiful. Then, we entered the strangeness that is South Dakota.

South Dakota contains the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and the geographical center of North America. I-90 runs basically E->W through the center of the state, which is mostly flat. But somehow, it’s flat in a pretty way. I actually enjoyed the view, although I can see that it would get old if you had to drive it regularly. Still, it beats the Ohio Turnpike, or really anywhere in Ohio. South Dakota is the billboard capital of the United States. I don’t actually know that that is true, but they must have more billboards and signs, per capita, at least, than anywhere else. One interesting hand-painted sign declared, “South Dakotans reject animal activists! Meat, fur, and livestock are OUR ECONOMY”.

Roughly one third (my estimate) of South Dakota billboards are generated by Wall Drug, a drugstore in Wall, South Dakota. An interesting feature of the Wall Drug billboards is the absence of any reference to the location of Wall Drug. A sign with a picture of a rodeo cowboy says simply, “Giddy Up! Wall Drug”. Another with a cowboy roping a doggie says, “Dally Up! Wall Drug”. Then there’s the famous “Free Ice Water! Wall Drug”, as well as the signs disclaiming that Wall Drug has received the attention of the New York Times and Time magazine. “This sign in Kenya, Africa – Wall Drug” indicates that South Dakota is not alone in its billboard-associated reverence of Wall Drug.

When Jill encountered harsh, blowing winds and snow on her shift, we located the nearest pet-friendly hotel. Was it fate, or chance, that the Days Inn we found was in Wall, SD? Fate? Or Chance? Fate….? Anyway, we got some crappy food at the Cactus Bar (seriously, the food totally sucked. What’s the deal, Cactus Bar? They can’t even make a decent sausage gravy, and there’s a SIGN on the outside of the building raving about how they have biscuits and gravy. Your gravy sucks. Sorry you had to hear it here. Hope you had a great Christmas.) and got a decent night’s sleep. I practiced putting chains on the car the next morning, in anticipation of the dreaded Snoqualmie Pass in the Cascades. We also had our first of three free hotel breakfasts that day. This was easily the worst. Also, I saw a guy who had a dreadlock mullet. Seriously, a white dude with dreads, except the top front part was all teased up and short. Really bizarre. To be fair, since this was a bit of a touristy spot, he could have been from North Dakota.

After a brief stop at Wall Drug, which, as you’d expect, has five times more space devoted to hideous souvenirs than to drug store items, we hit the road again.

To be continued…


(pictures forthcoming once we get a bit more organized)

The Great Northern Route = 21 pts

Packing

Our packing adventure was based upon the fallacy that it is easier to only pack the things that you need. That is, to prune down your possessions to a manageable size will facilitate the packing process. Instead, it leads to a kind of paralysis, where you put off difficult decisions until the time of the move. In our case, this effect was exacerbated by Jill’s insane schedule, Elaine’s understandable neediness, and my keen ability to procrastinate, which combined to prevent our boxing up of our possessions until the week before the move.

We used ABF, or U-Pack. This outstanding company, which I unreservedly recommend, drops off a trailer one day, and picks it up a few days later. We used about 13 feet of this truck for our belongings. The truck arrived on Friday. I got up early on Saturday, and made sure that I was ready to go. My dad and brother showed up to help with the loading. We had loaded the heavy furniture and most of the boxes in a few hours. Of course, I had not yet packed up the kitchen, bathrooms, clothes, nursery, or basement. So we stayed up all night Saturday packing the various rooms. By morning, it was clear that we had only just made a dent. Also, there was a bit of a blizzard going on outside. The latter detail meant that my dad and mom couldn’t make it, so Elaine was without a sitter. We did the best we could over the course of the day and night, and by pre-dawn Monday, I felt that we were ready to get the truck packed up.

Unfortunately, the lack of sleep had taken its toll. I carried quite a few things out to the truck, but I couldn’t see how to pack it efficiently. Total brain lock. So I called my parents and brother for assistance. Jim stood in the truck calling out what he needed. “Big boxes. Flat boxes. Anything shaped like the letter K.” I carried everything out to him, and we had the truck packed, using a 13.5 x 8 x 9 volume, by 3pm, with the bulkhead rammed in tight. After verifying that the paperwork was in order and the truck on its way, I got some much-needed sleep.

Early the next morning, we rented a 14’ U-Haul truck to dispose of the rest of the stuff in the house. This process turned out to be much more of a chore than expected. We had three stops to make: First, the Food Gatherers to drop off our unopened non-perishables; second, the Salvation Army to donate our furniture, kitchen goods, etc.; and third, the Ann Arbor ReUse/Recycle Center. It took several hours to load the truck, and I made a poor job of it again, such that a second trip would be necessary. The Salvation Army was decidedly picky about the donations, and I ended up with much more of a load to take to the Recycling center.

At the Recycling center, I encountered a very special group of people, starting with Cathy (I think). Here’s the setup: I’m pulling into the center with a U-Haul about half-full of a wide variety of stuff. Cathy was working the guard/payment booth. I pulled in and told her that she’d probably want to take a look, since there are charges for a variety of items. Ann Arbor only allows a certain amount of free garbage pickup at your home each week, so any excess needs to be saved for the next week or taken to the center for disposal. They charge about $2 per large black bag, plus fees for large items like TVs or computers. Many people are taken aback by the charges, but I like the idea of actually paying for the service. Seems more sustainable than having the center be subject to the whims of city/county/state budgets.

So Cathy was pleased that I knew the drill, and was pleasant about it. I got out and opened the back of the truck and bantered a bit while she ogled my disposable goods. She ended up snagging a few items and taking them to her car before giving me directions on where to take things. I headed into the recycling part, where a long-haired fellow explained to me about the difference between cardboard and greyboard. I quickly learned to separate all of the different types of paper goods, and I disposed of several boxes of bottles. Cathy took another look at the truck and found another gem or two for her collection. It’s not like I was throwing away crap—we just didn’t have room on the truck. I had to double back through the gate to go up to the refuse bins, and Cathy stopped me to say that I had made her day by being pleasant and positive. I returned the sentiment and headed for the tip-in area. As I was lugging my 20 or so heavy trash bags to the bin, one by one, a gentleman driving a mini-dozer pulled right up to the back of the truck and raised the scoop up to floor level. All I had to do was pitch the bags off the back of the truck. I suspect Cathy sent him over to help me out.

Since the center would be closing in an hour, I returned the truck to U-Haul, where I reserved a cargo van for the next morning. That evening, we went to Mustafa and Kathy’s for a nice going away dinner. Joanna, Jonathan and Emilie were all there, and great merriment ensued. It is really tough to leave people.

The next day, Mustafa had to come by the house to pick up the famous Johnsen family sourdough starter, and ended up with a few other things that we were “donating” or “foisting upon” them. He jumped in and helped me to load the van, and then volunteered to ride along. Thus, he got to experience firsthand the friendly and scavengy nature of the kind Recycle center folks. This time, Cathy and a few other workers there ended up with our ex-household items. Cathy fairly filled her car with loot. After bidding farewell to Mustafa, I made one more trip with the van, and then turned it in. Several hours and many trash bags later, we had finally reached the point where we could pack the car. It was 5:30pm on Thursday.

To be continued

going off the grid

As of some undetermined time today, I will be cut off from the electronic teat. Reconnection occurs on Dec. 26. Be strong.

The Slow Decline Into Gray

In case you haven't guessed, the great 2007 Pack-a-thon is in full swing. I have been performing triage on various aspects of our household goods, and creating nearly as many donation boxes as keeper boxes. We're doing a "load it your own damn self" deal, where they drop off a semi trailer (that's a lorry trailer to the UK contingent) and we have a few days to pack it. Today, my family came over to help load most of the heavy stuff (books, furniture). Tonight, we'll try to get most of the rest of the house into boxes so that tomorrow we can just mindlessly lug things out to the truck.

Did I mention the blizzard? Well, there's not one yet; it's merely snowing. But the National Weather Service warns of "blizzard-like conditions" in the morning, following an evening of approximately 5 inches of snowfall. That should keep us cool as we work.

I had thought that we would be slipping out of Michigan prior to the crappy winter, since it usually starts getting really sucky around Christmastime, but now I'm convinced that Michigan Winter actively dislikes me and my plan, and did resolve to be as sucky as possible starting on Thanksgiving day and continuing until we leave the state.

OK, back to work with me. May you all have a safe and happy holiday, and I'll see you on the other side.

A quick note

Jill has decided to grace this here weblog with her commentary. She back-commented on the last two months of posts!

So, if you need a dose of Jill, why not revisit some older posts and bask in her wit?

A happy surprise

And, no, I'm not talking about the resurgence of really good Achewood comics lately (starting here and continuing to the most recent), but a happy discovery that I made while tearing the house apart in our hour of packing.

There are times that make you stand back and reflect on what got you where you are. This was one such time. There I was, you see, digging furiously--well, furiously is rather overstating it; perhaps intently covers it somewhat better--so, intently, then, in our so-called 'chicken' cabinet, in which our occasional dishes and glassware are kept, when I discovered a certain amber bottle. This was a bottle with the number '23' scrawled upon the cap, and bearing no label. So, my immediate thought was, "Well, what is this? It has all the comportment of a homebrew, but we never got to a vaunted number like 23. 23 calls to mind the likes of Michael Jordan, or more recently, LeBron James. What's a bottle doing in my cupboard bearing the auspicious number of 23?". That's just what I thought. But then, a certain other thought occurred to me, you see. The other thought was that some other person may have left that bottle there, so as to cause a bit of commotion. I was thinking of perhaps aliens or the government at this time, them being one and the same in any case.

But then! (imagine me speaking in a hushed whisper here...oh, do humor me, will you?) Then! I spoke with Jill, who suggested that this was the bottle of Festive Ale that Jim and Sonja, may God rest and have mercy on their souls, left for us in their final loungings at our abode, and that I--not the government or aliens--secreted away to this place in the cabinet so that I wouldn't drink it, and so that it would survive until such a time when Jill was no longer pregnant! (conspiratorial whispering over)

So! Here we are. Having a nice bit of quiche and pondering the impenetrable mystery of the '23' bottle in the fridge. If anyone has any ideas that will bring this matter to a resolution, your comments would be appreciated.

Evidence of quiche



Evidence of a certain mystery bottle

Shell Games

My, aren't I the unusually prolific one! Guess I should take a few days off after this.

There were two news items that I read with some amount of cynicism yesterday. First, the report that Iran had "halted" it's nuclear weapons program. Second, that Hugo Chavez had been dealt a "defeat". Much has been made of both items. The Venezuelan vote was sans monitors, and is probably Chavez' way of saying, "Hey, look. Would I fix this referendum to narrowly FAIL? Of course not! Democracy is alive and well in my dictatorship. Go away now.", prior to a series of subsequent referendums in which he narrowly wins. Still, evidence of a healthy backbone in the Venezuelan populace is quite heartening.

Regarding the Iranian "Hugs not Bombs" story, the Democrats here are using it, clumsily, as an election year whomping stick. Harry Reid, et al, are calling for a rethink of US/Iranian relations based upon one report -- a report that contradicts a previous report. Not only is this dangerous and irresponsible, it's transparent enough that it could end up hurting the Dems in next year's general election. The candidates now have to be extremely careful. I see the Republicans coming out looking much better on this issue. I generally align with Democratic policy, but those in charge now are largely tone-deaf, gutless, mewling incompetents.

Crows

One of the more foreboding sights here in Ann Arbor is the immense flock of crows that rise and fall over the old growth trees in Forest Hill Cemetary and the Arboretum. As of two days ago, however, they have suddenly begun to settle in my neighborhood for the night. All night long, it's like having little yappy dogs arrayed around your house at bedroom level. When the wind picks up, they go silent. When that wind dies down, it's a cacophony.

In addition to the noise (which wakes up my 6 month-old), they have covered much of the immediate neighborhood with poop. My car is not even under a tree, and it is nearly completely overwhelmed. Apparently, they're only in three trees that triangulate around our house. Jill has just come running into the house from work, saying that she was dodging splatter bombs all the way from the car, which she parked across the street.

So, what do I do? It is illegal to fire weapons within the city limits, and I don't own a shotgun anyway. Some people have suggested a fake owl. The US Air Force uses a recording of a falcon's call to scare them off of runways. Fireworks? Insults? Celine Dion?

I'm glad that the crows were not wiped out by West Nile a few years ago, but I wish that they'd keep to the Arboretum.

My So-Called Dollar

I have little to no practical knowledge of macroeconomics, so I ask for your patience here. There was a feature on an NPR show this past weekend about how the rise of the Euro over the dollar was actually helping some sectors of the retail economy. Specifically, major city destinations, such as New York, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, etc., were doing very well this holiday season. People from the UK and Europe were arriving with empty suitcases and filling them with electronics and luxury items because of the exchange rate. Even cities bordering Canada were experiencing an uptick in international traffic because of the historic alignment of the $CA and $US.

Two things occurred to me: First, the relatively high sales in these specific sectors are going to drive up the national numbers, which may lead to an increase in consumer confidence, even in the less fortunate areas. Second, many of the products that are being purchased were made in China, spurring the retailers to replace their inventory, which benefits Chinese manufacturing. So even when our economy is shitty, the pain is not passed along to our main supplier of retail goods. Or at least, the pain is attenuated.

Is it well past time to engage in a bit of protectionism vis a vis our lopsided trade status with China? Would this sort of action be devastating to our most poor? Who decided that we don't need a manufacturing class here in the US?

I think it was Clinton or Bush the First who first talked about restructuring our economy to be more based upon creating a new kind of job -- the so-called "knowledge-based" economy. While this is a laudable goal, it doesn't account for the fact that many people have no interest in working with computers or advanced technology, and who would be miserable attending college or university. The fact is that many people really are happiest using their hands and backs to earn a living, and may not be successful or happy if forced back into school. I'm thinking specifically of those aged 45 and up.

The economic reality, I think, is that manufacturing and farming jobs provide national stability, and it is important to protect these jobs with tariffs and other protectionist strategies.

Now, I await the better-informed to tell me what's wrong with my thinking. I'd really like to understand this a bit better.