August 29th: Homecoming

We had an option: drive for eleven hours, get home around ten at night, and go to school tomorrow. Or, we could drive for a few hours today and a few hours tomorrow, swing by Falling Water, and get to school on the third day. Like the nerd I am, I wanted to get back to school as soon as humanely possible. Emily and Mom wanted to get home around four tomorrow and relax. The final verdict as we started out was that we would wait and see how long we could go.

I pulled Rachel over to the dark side. “Rachie, don’t you want to go back with your friends as soon as you can? Who needs relaxing time?” She happily bent to my will. But that was before Emily got to her. “Think of it like this,” she Shanghaied, “Which would you like better, getting back really late tonight and going to school the very next day, or spreading it out and chilling?” Her face split into a grin as she realized Em would be twice as kind to her if she used her vote to agree. Whether this is a sign of malleability or good politics, I don’t know. Dad was neutral. I tried to win Mom over. “Mom, John Steinbeck said in Travels With Charlie that once the journey is gone, you can’t get it back, no matter how many tourist-y locations you go to.”
“Quoting my favorite author against me, huh?” she remarked drolly.
I had no idea he was her favorite author. I just knew at random intervals, she would insist we listen to sections of Travels and had heard about half the book that way.

We pressed on. It was rainy. It was chilly. It was dreary. And very soon, my emotions began to match the weather. I got the feeling I was “winning,” though. Dad showed no signs of tiring at the wheel, and Mom was beginning to talk like we were going to go the whole way. It didn’t get really bad until the sun had set.

We were driving over the Appalachians. We definitely weren’t going to stop now. I was actually starting to feel like this was a bad idea. I was hungry and tired, but there wasn’t any food easily accessible, and I couldn’t go to sleep, not when we were so close. I was sitting in the front seat with Emily, who was pumping this Sing and Rejoice artist she likes whose songs don’t rhyme. I hate songs that don’t rhyme. Even RAP rhymes. Just because you’re singing about God and Jesus doesn’t mean you can write crap and call it music. Just as I was about to break my vigil and go chase after Dreamland in the back, we noticed a familiar landmark. We were almost home!

It felt so unreal. If you’ve ever driven home late, you know what I mean. I couldn’t fully wrap my head around the fact that we had been gone for a month, and that this wasn’t just another stop on the road. It was hard to get that I would be sleeping on a mattress with springs rather than one I had to inflate every night. I’d been missing my home so much, at night, I’d go through every detail in my mind, every stain on the carpet, every cup in the cupboard, every tool in the garage. The town square looked so strange to my unblinking eyes. I felt like pointing at all the establishments in town. “That’s the library. That’s the clock tower. The church were I have piano lessons is down that road” to assure myself they truly existed.

And then we drove down that road so familiar, that I had driven on every day since I was two, and it hit me. I was home.

I was home.

August 28th: We Should Know Better

I’m sorry! I know this entry is insanely late, and I really have no excuse. I’m a lazy bum. Clap me in irons.

So we pulled up into our campsite that evening, having done nothing of interest that day (the glamorous life of an RV’er, right?). We kids were a little skittish about being in Indiana. Why, you ask? A certain friend of my who shall remain unnamed hails from Indiana, and that kid is weird enough to ruin the entire “Crossroads of America” for us. A little harsh, you might think, but you don’t know this kid.

Anyway, across from us was a nice RV. It was sleek, silver, and shiny. Extremely shiny. Yet the people sitting in front of the RV were none of these things. Em and I began to mock them from afar.

We do that occasionally, with shirtless men being the main subject of our derision. “Dude, if you’re not going to wear a shirt, at least get rid of your beer belly. No one wants to see that unveiled” is the main gist of it. We figure it’s okay because they can’t hear us. It’s not very nice, perhaps, but trust me, I’ve more than paid for it with embarrassment.

One time, earlier in the summer, Mom, Grammy, Em and I were bidding the time before Tae Kwon Do sitting in Memorial Park in our car. Em and I were scoffing at some undefined shirtless guys playing football. Two more came by, walking past our van. Once they were within a few yards I realized that I knew one of them from school. Mortified, I flung myself on the car floor, trying to get out of view of the windows. My kinfolk found this exceedingly amusing, and commenced to ridicule me, saying that I probably liked him. He was one of the top five boys I’d be least likely to like at my school. Let’s just say, for once, my face was red BEFORE I got to Tae Kwon Do.

We almost had a repeat of that incident, when Mom noticed the window was partially open. I don’t think Em got an equal consequence, and it seems unfair that karma dished me a double dose. Oh, well.

Em and Dad went to see “Invincible,” the Eagles movie, while Rach, Mom and I went down to the pool. I swum a few laps, and wonder of wonders, Mom actually got in the water. She got out after about five minutes, but still! After I finished “serious” swimming, Rach started a game where she clung to my arm like a monkey. We were still playing when a middle-aged couple entered the pool area. Mom struck up an interesting conversation with them, and found that they were headed in an opposite direction from us. They were really nice, and didn’t mind if Rach splashed them a little.

We all rinsed off in the communal showers (I could do a coffee-table book, “Showers I Have Known.” It’d be a big hit, I know. This one was fairly clean, and earned a solid B+ in my book). When we found there was a game room, we had to check it out. Unfortunately, the arcade was closed by the time we had changed into pajamas and headed over. I spent the rest of the evening happily reading the edition of “the Rolling Stones” I had discovered in the pouch on the back of the passenger’s seat. The Teenagesmobile is just full of surprises.

PS: The Teenagesmobile got it’s name when my dad’s musical, Teenages, premiered and the cast and assorted authority figures chose to walk in the parade to publicize the play. To get to the parade grounds, Dad offered to take all twenty-five of the cast members in the RV. Because a vehicle is required to walk in the parade, we got an artist to paint the logo on two huge banners, which we affixed to the sides of the Winnebago, and pumped the numbers from the speakers. But meanwhile we had twenty plus individuals crammed in that RV for a twenty minute drive. It was truly fun.

August 27th: Bullfighting

Today we went to the Nebraska State Fair. Enough said. I’ll elaborate.

We spent a good part of the day walking around, eating free food, looking at ADORABLE baby goats (I want one so bad), listening to high school marching bands (I want NOT to be in one so bad), looking at tanks of native fish, participating in the Oh Say, Can You Sing? (A National Anthem singing contest), getting magnetic bumper stickers, wandering through large buildings with stands selling their own, individual product, observing livestock, going to 4H dog shows, and bullfighting. Yes, you read that right. Bullfighting.

We went into the area where the bulls were kept. Each was in their own, personal, large and mercifully sturdy pens. Each fence had the bull’s information. We had a look around. It was a little like being in a maze with twenty Minosaurs, albeit the fact none of them can attack you. Nonetheless, when I took a step too close to one bull’s cage to read his paper, he bluffed and took a fast step over. All the sudden, I was eye-to-eye with the bull. It had given me a nasty turn, and my first reaction was anger. My friends and I will have fake street fights (with words) but this time, I meant it. I was mad.
“Oh, you think you can take me?!” I called, gesturing aggressively, waggling my head in the “uh, uhn, girlfriend” fashion.
The bull pawed the ground with one foot and snorted.
So did I.
Then, I walked away. Guys start fights, girls finish them. Or maybe I went to complain that a crazy bull hated me now. Whatever.

We left after that and split with Jeff and Barb. It seems they were our good luck charm, though, because the second we went our separate ways, we got lost in the parking lot and walked around for twenty minutes before we could find our car. I happily plastered the bumper sticker on. We drove the rest of the day. Fun, fun, fun.

August 26th : Evil Cats. You Know Who You Are

Well, today we traversed our way to Cousin/Uncle/Whatever Jeff's house in Lincoln, Nebraska. We had an awesome time. We went to a great restaurant with a wonderful vegetarian selection, and then went to Circuit City and the mall bookstore for reasons unknown to me. We then headed back to their house and met Jeff’s son. He had a big tattoo on his arm and long hair. I thought he was da bomb. He left to plan a party with his friend. We set up air mattresses and sleeping bags. I whiled the night away with a small paperback book with glossy pages (you know the type) entitled “Bad Cats: Not-So-Pretty-Kitties and Cats Gone Bad.” It had funny pictures of cats and captions. I found it extremely amusing.

Quick Note!

Don't stop checking because the month is up, I still have a few posts left to go, and of course the pictures. Happy blogging!

August 24th: Evidently, I Was Mistaken

After reading my last post, Mom corrected me. We did NOT go on that night. Oops. We stayed in Colorado Springs that night. And that morning, I woke up to Dad wondering about whether or not we should go to Pike’s Peak. When he noticed I was awake he attempted to convince me that I should go along with him.
“Three hours to read your book,” he said enticingly. I considered that. On the bright side, I’d have three hours with nothing to do but read Dune. On the flip side, I’d have nothing to do but read Dune.
“I don’t think so,” I answered. I thought that was the end of it, especially when Dad to Em and Rach down to the campground pool. Alas, it was not to be so.

I came back from the pool to take a shower (I dived in and then realized I didn’t want to swim at all) and asked Mom when we were leaving.
“After we get back from Pike’s Peak,” she informed me blithely.
“After? After? I thought we weren’t going to Pike’s Peak! That guy said it was a four-hour drive!” I had been to Pike’s Peak multiple times on Oregon Trail 5, the Trailblazing CD game. If you got there during July you were doing all right, but if you in August you had to pick up the pace or you’d starve and have to eat each other.

Well, we didn’t have to resort to cannibalism driving on the toll road, but we got close. The main problem was that of person space. Cramming three kids in the back of a Subaru for hours on end as you drive up a mountain they’d rather not be on as oxygen levels decrease is not the best of ideas. We were still smarting over the Great Bubble Invasion of ’21, when in the Petrified Forest, Rachel broke the boundaries of the mighty Personal Space Bubble, heedless of the Sacred Bubble Treaty, and reached across Emily to poke me, inviting upon her the dual wrath of Emily and I, and then complained that we ganged up against her and worked herself up to the point of tears, and got us in trouble for “excluding her.” That girl sure knows how to make enemies. She’s better at it than the Bush family.

Anyway, we were all extremely happy to reach the top, at which point we jumped out almost before the car stopped, only to recoil at the frigid air. Mom passed out sweaters. We saw a storm system move out over the plains. I’ve never seen lighting from above before. ‘Tis cool.

We checked out the oxygen bar, a kind of gift shop and food court. I myself bought a bumper sticker that reads “In Most States, It’s Illegal To Get This High.” I did feel a little high. The air up at the top has half the oxygen content that the air at sea level contains. I kept on messing up on one word in a sentence and was unable to say it correctly without a couple of tries. We exited the building. Dad wanted to get to the absolute peak of Pike’s Peak. It doesn’t really have a peak though, not anymore, at least. It’s just got about a flat expanse at the top roughly twice the size of a football field. So Dad gravitated to slight rise where all you could see was the clouds and the rest of the top. He felt the moment, or faked feeling the moment, while the rest of us stood around in our shorts and shivered. We sang America the Beautiful, but Dad didn’t show any signs of leaving. We rolled our eyes and walked away. I hope he had a mountaintop experience, because we got all the way to the end of the parking lot, before he realized we were going and ran over. Mom refused to surrender the driver’s seat, saying it was “so chauvinist” that Dad not expect her not to drive anywhere that require superior wheeling.

I have to admit I found Mom’s driving more daredevil than Dad’s, although it didn’t help that Dad is about the worst backseat driver EVER. He has a comment for every turn of the tires. Then he tried to convince us, the kids, that he drives better.
“If one person in the car feels uncomfortable, than I have failed,” he proclaimed regally.
“Mom subscribes to a different philosophy,” I quipped. “If one person in the car has died, she has failed.”
Dad was amused. Mom was not.

That night (I swear) we left had some difficultly finding our campground (i.e. it was only by my keen observation of brown that pointed out the way to the state park that we ever found the place. Mom wanted to follow the guy’s direction, Dad wanted to follow TomTom, and I spotted the signs that ended up saving us where GPS and campground guy failed. Mwhuhaha. That night, we got cable and watched a news station that told us serial killers were on the loose in our area. We locked up good and tight, but I kept hearing the wind hit the blinds. I was too afraid to get up and close the window for fear that a face might be looking in at me. There wasn’t, but I can dream, can’t I?

August 23rd: Hitchin’ A Ride.

When we found the headquarters of Adventures in Odyssey were in Colorado Springs, the parents made the executive decision to stop there as a break from driving. To put it succinctly, it was awesome. The coolest thing was getting to make our own “adventure” where we recorded some of the voices and sound effects of a scripted episode (about seven minutes long.) I was the Sound Effects guy. I got to clop coconuts together just like Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We also to a tour of the facilities, fairly stimulating.

We also went to Flying W Ranch, a place that offered a Western band show and a chuckwagon supper, as well as a sort of smaller Willamsburg, though simulating a Western town rather than a colonial one. For instance, we went to see a horse get shod, and perused a couple of small shops selling Navaho blankets and such. There also was a little, well-lit room with one wall giving up entirely to shelves filled with cookbooks and recipe magazines. Tiny tables with notepads and pencils filled the rest. The sole employee of the building told us that the establishment’s founder’s wife loved cooking and all these cookbooks belonged to her. When she died, he built this structure, and opened the recipes to the public. Anyone could copy down any recipe. I quickly found a Mexican dessert and set down copying it.

The instant I was done, the dinner bell rang. The thronging masses headed towards the dining hall. The meal was served cafeteria style and included some delicious biscuits. The Western band was the second oldest in existence, second to the Sons of Pioneers. They sang well, and were extremely funny. The show ended at about 9:30, and we set out to our next location at about 10. I don’t know what possessed Mom and Dad to decide to leave so late at night, but whatever. I’m just along for the ride.

August 21st and 22nd: Sweet, Sweet Internet

Seeing as we had a long drive, we decided to stop at the Petrified Forest National Park. Frankly, it wasn’t terrible interesting. I’ve seen pieces of petrified wood before. Viewing large chunks of it surrounded by stone dunes isn’t incredibly fascinating.

Our campsite had a pool they said was heated. It wasn’t. They did have a room where you could hook up your computer to a phone jack and get a dial-up Internet connection. Dad and I headed there at about nine PM. Emily had described it as “a little room” and believe me, she was right. It was about six by four feet, with a long ledge for you to put your laptop on, two folding chairs, a phone book, a radiator, an outlet, and a window. That’s it. All in all, it was a tad freaky. Everything was so bare it kinda reminded me of the places serial killers go and plot. Without the window, it would have been really intimidating.

Dial-up is not exactly the fastest connection you can get. I decided not to go to the Distant Horizon forum, owing to the complaints I’ve heard from other members that it takes five whole minutes for ONE post to load. In reference, my computer takes about ten seconds. I decided to check up on Kenya Starflight’s blog instead. Even loading plain text took forever because Emily was downloading songs from iTunes while I was reading. It went incredibly slowly. However, I unearthed one thing that made it all worth it. A four page long, spoiler-filled review for the next episode of Avatar. My ecstasy upon reading this can hardly be described.

The campsite also had two computers you could use for free during business hours. The next day, Mom and I made good use of those computers. The room they were in was a little freaky, as well. It had all these anti-liberal bumper stickers and “liberals hunting licenses.” I felt distinctly unsafe, and wondered if perhaps I should take steps to blend into the enviroment. But, that wasn’t quite enough to keep me away from my beloved Internet.

After we left, we noticed a DVD and video trading store across the street from the gas station we stopped at. Delighted, we gathered up our less-prized videos and headed over. I surreptitiously grabbed my DVD of Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, thinking I might trade it if they had what I really wanted- Return of the King, Special Extended Edition.

The place was rather dingy. The carpet looked like it had originally been Astroturf, the movies were sorted by letter rather than genre, two or three kittens were wandering around (we didn’t mind, but still! Who keeps cats in stores outside of China?) and at least half the store was behind a curtain labeled “Adult.” However, after much perusing, we discovered several movies of interest. Just as we were about to pay, Emily made a discovery.
“Return of the King: Special Extended Edition,” she read with deliberate slowness.
“What!!” I screeched happily, tearing it from her grasp and running to the counter. The cashier informed me that “they” didn’t like trading normal editions for special editions, but he’d do it anyway. I cheerfully paid the difference, and we headed back to the RV, where I bonded with the Special Edition for a while, snuggling with it and hissing, “My Precioussss!” when Emily or Rachel came too near.

August 19th & 20th: And Now, Our Feature Presentation

The Mule Ride.

We were standing around for about twenty minutes, waiting for the wranglers to arrive. When they did, we handed over our “suitcases” (big plastic bags with our clothes) and got directions on the whole shebang. The wrangler gathered us round and asked if any groups would like to ride together. We and a family of three volunteered. The wranglers loaded us up onto our mules (mine’s name was Chappa) and we were off.

The first switchback is supposed to be intimidating, but I wasn’t all that scared. I guess I’m more used to heights (living in the mountains) and riding (nine years of Horse Camp) than your average person. Mom said she was nervous until she saw Rach in the front of the line waving her “motivator.” After that, she figured it was okay.

Not much of incident happened until we got to Indian Gardens (a sort of oasis at the place where the trail levels out.) Well, actually, it was plenty interesting, but not something I could easily describe. Anyway, at Indian Gardens we stopped for lunch, refilled our canteens (The three of us loved the canteens. The looked quite a lot like Zuko’s water skin in Avatar) and used the bathrooms. The bathrooms were pretty awesome. They were some kind of composite toilet because they didn’t flush, and a certain breeze was to be felt in the seat itself.

We rode parallel to a small creek that cut away huge boulders. It was quite magnificent; this little trickle, maybe a foot wide, was rushing through gigantic rocks with the speed of rapids. After it turned to flow down to the Colorado, we turned to the opposite direction to a steep mountainside riddled with switchbacks. I was rather glad to be on mule as opposed to my own, less sturdy feet. The rock formations looked like something from Lord of the Rings, maybe Rivendale. The next part was nicknamed “the Oven” due to the fact we were traversing between two walls of rock, which were baking us. The wrangler, Steve, told us that this is where most of the injuries and deaths occur. We were not encouraged to hear that nine to fifteen people die on the trails each year because they ignore the warnings not to hike from the rim to the river in one day, hike alone, or don’t bring adequate food or water.

Maybe the most exciting part of the trip was right before we got to Phantom Ranch. We went through a tunnel directly onto a suspension bridge across the Colorado River. After we got past the bridge, we past some remains of pueblos. We were delighted to get under the shade of the trees.

The Assistant Manager of the ranch gave us a rundown of the ranch. We went to our cabin, #8, and changed into our swimming suits. What I really wanted to do was just to lie down in the air conditioning for a few hours, but the manager had told us that was the worst possible thing to do, since it wouldn’t stretch out your aching muscles and work out the soreness. So, we went swimming in the creek.

The creek was really, really nice. We were in a shaded area where the water came up to our knees, but we could lie down and submerge ourselves completely. Dad suggested that we should build up the few small rocks acting as a dam, a project Rach and I embarked upon with much gusto. Some kids who were camping at Bright Angel Campground helped us out until somebody told us not to “disturb the riverbed.” Around that time I discovered my fantastic watch had been broken by the water. I plan to enact the warranty as soon as I get home.

A ranger was offering a lecture under the sycamore tree on plants the ancient natives used in clothing, medicine, and food. There was a small stone fence in which benches were set out, and picnic tables behind the fence. Mom and I were sitting on the picnic tables. I was trying to place my legs in such a way on the fence that I might get a tan and also trying not to disturb the gentleman in front of me. Despite my efforts, I accidentally nudged him. Being the courteous soul I am, I swiftly apologized. He made no sign of noticing, but no biggie.

Several second later, the guy’s head lolled back and he started gagging. I wondered for a second if he was joking and had a twisted sense of humor. Panicked, I looked to Mom, horrified. She raised the alarm, yelling “Man in trouble! Man in trouble!” with all the tender sensitivity and composure of a psychotic guest of the Jerry Springer Show. Luckily, the ranger responded with more knowledge and calm than Mom and ran up to the man and laid him out on a bench. He came around almost immediately, and not wanting to embarrass the man (his name, he told us, is Art) we went back to our cabin. Fortuitously, our cabin was about twenty feet away the tree. We spent the time between then and dinner playing the “which would you rather” game. Would you rather jump out of an airplane with half a parachute or lick peanut butter off a hobo’s foot? ‘Tis a most fun game.

The dinner was really good. They provided lentil loaf for vegetarians. To this day, I do not know what, precisely, lentil loaf is, but it was delicious. After dinner, we went to a better-fated ranger program about the first expedition of the Grand Canyon. We headed back to our cabins, and sleep.

It was not to be. My top bunk was so creaky it protested loudly when I breathed. I switched to the bottom bunk. According to Dad, I woke up yelling indiscriminately, “What’s going on? Where are we?” I only remember it being really dark, Dad standing by my bunk with a flashlight, and I being extremely freaked out. He asked if I wanted the bathroom light on, a proposition which I instinctively clung to. I also know that I didn’t really fall back asleep, because my eyes kept flitting open on their on accord from the reassuring light. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom. My stealthy hand-washing, however, did wake up Mom, who suggested I could sleep on one of their top bunks. This, too, held intuitive promptings as a good course of combat for a nameless fear. After I made that final switch, I slept pretty well.

The next day we woke up and set out early. Art and his family had been offered an extra day at Phantom Ranch as a bit of a respite, but seeing as he had experienced this condition before and ideal treatment required medical equipment the ranch clinic didn’t have, he valorously decided to brave the trail. Mom (she seemed to feel responsible for him) offered her neck cooler and quietly insisted he use it.

Due to our ailing member, we did our best to go quickly, seeing as our path, the South Kaibab Trail, has little shade and no additional water, but we ended up rather late. We had a little “graduation” ceremony at the top that christened us as “mule slickers” and said a fond farewell to our wranglers and fellow riders.

We got some well-earned relaxation when we got back to the camper. I did my best to read, but Rachel and Emily, succumbing to their senseless addiction to watch Nickelodeon, no matter how dumb the show, had the Timmy/Jimmy Power Hour Trilogy reruns on at full blast. For those of you who are unspoiled by the knowledge of the Timmy/Jimmy Power Hour Trilogy, count yourselves lucky. It’s roughly the dumbest, lamest, and most disgusting looking thing on Nick, with the possible exception of Mr. Meaty. Oh, well.

August 18th: Two Words: Grand Canyon

Once again, we drove. We drove till we got to the Grand Canyon. It was pretty. I think Mom and Dad expected us to be more impressed, though. We also had to check our weights on a scale in the visitor’s center to see if we weighed less than 200 pounds, to see if we could go on the mule ride, to see if Dad’s fasting and constant weighing paid off. To make a long, suspenseful story short, it did. We then ate dinner and went on a sunset bus tour. We were sitting in the back and could barely hear what the guide was saying, so I just read my book. Call me unappreciative if you like, it takes awhile for me to see more than the face value of a place and when someone (that is to say, my parents) expect me to see it right away, I tend to become annoyed and disinclined to attempt to see the beauty at all. This was one of those instances. Also, as Mom remarked, perhaps you have to be a little older to truly value what you’re seeing. Oh, well.

August 17th: At Least I’m Alive for One Pop Phenomenon

It seems to me I was born in the wrong era. Many of the things I’m a fan of, the Beatles, Star Wars, Animorphs, had their fifteen minutes of fame long before I could be a part of them. The only Star Wars movie I waited in line for was Revenge of the Sith, I was too young to enjoy more than the cool-looking covers in the Animorphs age of renown, and I missed Beatlemania by about twenty years. So I mused as we drove down the highway towards Kanab, a town smaller than mine, if you can believe that.

The campsite we stayed at was decent, the pool was very nice, and the manager was even nicer. When Mom went in to book a site, she asked if her daughter (me) could trade books with them. She answered that that they had did have some, but they were aimed towards adults (like Scott Turrow and Dick Francis. I had no idea who these people were, but I didn’t want to interrupt her while she was in her storytelling stride) but she did have the novelization of Pirates of the Caribbean! She had bought the DVD to rent out and the book came free. She gave it to us as a gift. I guess she knew that everybody loves Pirates of the Caribbean.

After doing some dishes, I joined Rachel and Dad at the pool. That’s Rachel’s first priority in any campsite. The RV could be wrecked and she’d be okay as long as she could swim. The pool was awesome. It was relatively small, but it was kidney-bean shaped, as opposed to your typical, boring rectangle. It also had some classier cousin of concrete instead of the scratchy kind that will stub your toe at the slightest provocation. The crowning feature was the fence. It looked like a Beverly Hills fence. It had stucco pillars with stylish iron bars in between (not like in a jail, they were square and about a half-inch thin) and a light on each pillar. It was so nice I decided not to swim and to work on my laughable tan, basking in the magnificence of the glorious pool.

Emily discovered there was a movie theater in town and desperately wanted to go see one. When we found the movie was Click, Dad and I were less than excited about the prospect, seeing as we read movie reviews and, despite our inherent scorn of nitpicking critics, we had heard Click was awful. We went to see it anyway because Rach had wanted to see it so badly. She has a knack for insisting on movies that critics hate.

We actually enjoyed the movie fairly well. The plot had been beaten to death long before Click got to it, but there was some unexpected humor. I liked it okay. I wouldn’t rent it, but I’d encourage someone else to so I could watch it again. I’m evil like that, thank you.

August 16: Finally! Fresh Meat- ah, Books

Mom and I drove out at nine-thirty with TomTom in tow in search of a store Karen recommended as a place that might trade books with me. Unfortunately, we discovered it opened at ten. I hadn’t had breakfast yet, so we walked across the parking lot to a place called the Scone Cutter. Its logo was “Let’s Go Get Sconed.” They had it on baseball caps, t-shirts, napkins, everything. The obviously were very proud of it. In all honesty, It was kind of embarrassing.

Still having twenty minutes to kill, we went further down along the strip mall to a grocery store. My attention was quickly captured by a rack of cut-priced DVD’s. I flipped through them with genuine interest. To my dismay, I found there were only about twenty different titles and they were mixed up so one couldn’t simply glance at the sections of the same movie, but was forced to read every one in hopes that there might be a different one. I tried my best to remedy this for future shoppers, but alas, I received no pay for doing the store’s job for them and had to leave before my work of charity was complete.

We waited outside the book-trading store, Camel Industries for several more minutes in which from looking in the front window we discovered a few things. One, this wasn’t just a trading post; it was more of a Goodwill on steroids. Two, the other people waiting for the doors to open were all over the age of fifty. It was kinda creepy.

Finally, the doors opened and we made a beeline for the book section. I found some great books I couldn’t wait to read, among them Animal Farm and Lord of the Flies (Grandma Piggy, if you have any objections to me reading those particular volumes, they may be a tad late seeing as I read them later the same day because they both were relatively short and I thought they both were weird. Animal Farm had a bunch of paragraphs highlighted and Lord of the Flies had notes about savagery versus civilization all over the margins. I began to erase them, but then realized these notes may be invaluable (i.e.: possibly cheating) if I ever have to analyze it in a literature or psychology class.)

We had a problem with electricity when we got back to the RV, namely, we didn’t have any. Dad contacted a guy called “Dr. Mobile” a camper specialist that comes to you. I have to admit that this fact did not fill me with confidence, but in less than two hours, he got our current going again and we were good to go.

Our campsite was in Bryce Canyon. Emily and I went on a hike in the backwoods. I was in flip-flops and we almost got lost. When we got back, Dad informed us that we were going to a ranger program. I didn’t want to go, but I sincerely enjoyed the speech. It was on space and the stars. I was entertained and informed. By the way, you all should switch to non-light polluting lights outside. 60% of light in regular outdoor lights goes to waste or becomes a glare and actually decreases your nighttime safety. They also will keep light from going up in the sky and drowning out the lights of the stars. It inspired me to write a kick-butt, Dune-rivaling science fiction novel.

There was a stargazing program after the speech that we decided to go to. It was too short to drive to, but a small section of forest separated it from us. Despite the fact that it was ten o’clock in one of the advertisedly darkest nights in North America, we elected to walk through the woods. Luckily, nothing bad happened to us.

The stargazing was one of the coolest experiences of my life. We could see hundreds, maybe thousands of stars. The same ranger who did the speech used a laser pointer to point out constellations. The only one I actually could easily see was Pegasus, the winged horse. Another astronomer had a special telescope that he directed with a remote control. We actually got to see Uranus (which is pronounced ur-AH-nus by astronomers rather than the typical way) and Neptune. They were blue.

We go back without major incident (Emily accidentally whacked Dad trying to redirect his flashlight) and gratefully sank into our waiting beds. T’was fun.

August 14 & 15: Green Day Minds Think Alike

We couldn’t wait to get out to se our old friends, the Douglas’. They moved to Salt Lake City two years ago and we’ve only seen them once since. We pulled in and rested up a little before setting off to their new address at about 5:30. Mom managed to get us lost in Sandy, quite an accomplishment considering we had TomTom’s directions and the streets are logically numbered rather than named. We had to call Karen and have her lead the way back to her house.

To say we were happy to see Katie and Gregory would be the understatement of the blog. The five us were ecstatic to see the others again. I was delighted to find, on tour of Katie’s room, she had three Green Day posters on the wall. Noticing my glee, she revealed a DVD of Bullet in a Bible, Green Day’s 65,000 audience concert extravaganza. We had an awesome time singing along to our favorite American Idiot songs. They were also so kind in allowing me to use their computer and Internet, two things I had been sorely pining for.

Karen invited us to sleep over, an invitation we happily accepted. We pulled out the sleeping bags and watched really long, old movies like My Fair Lady until we fell asleep at 2:30 AM. It was fun.

The next day we all got showers (mercifully) before Mom and Dad arrived to sightsee together. The seven of us (Karen was driving her boyfriend to a second job interview in California as a Spanish teacher) went to a visitors’ museum of the Great Salt Lake. It was kinda a cut-price museum, if you catch my drift. One of the light-up exhibits was out of order, the video was played on an old, big-screen TV that looked like it should be the crowning jewel of a yard sale, and a couple of the display information panels were just typed out on paper. I guess running a museum takes a lot of assets and the gift shop just wasn’t keeping pace. Oh well.

The Clark Planetarium made up for it by a long shot. Despite my fabled disinterest for space shuttles and who landed on the Moon when, I found myself fascinated by the displays on eclipses, the properties of motion, and the beautiful artwork of the surface of each planet in our solar system. The coolest thing was a HUGE series of shoots and pulleys that transported marbles around a course so dizzying I could barely watch one from beginning to end.

They also had an IMAX theater in which we watched a movie about undersea life, narrated by Johnny Depp. When the tour guide announced this, I yelled “Yeah!” expecting Katie and Emily to do the same. They didn’t, but they found my embarrassment extremely amusing.
“This is Utah,” Katie explained. “Nobody yells.” So I found.

After the movie, we went to Temple Square and the Gateway Mall. We didn’t buy anything, but I got Emily back by telling Katie about her phobia of the patrons of Hot Topic, Katie’s favorite store. We looked around and saw a couple of sweet T-shirts. Temple Square was a bust because a trolley in the next lane completely blocked everything we wanted to see.

We got dinner at a lovely restaurant call Sweet Tomatoes where you made your own salad, then got up to get pasta or soup or (my personal favorite) ice cream in a tiny little cone! You could put sprinkles and caramel sauce on in, despite the fact that the whole thing was about two inches high. Such a little ice cream cone made me inexplicably happy.

We watched one last movie with the Douglas’ (Men In Black, it’s hilarious) and then had to go home. It was a tearful farewell, Rachel supplying most of the tears. I felt rather callous standing there dry eyed as Rach bawled her eyes out. I guess I’m not a crier.

August 13th - Hiking and Ferries and Bears, Oh My!

Dad wanted to hike around Jenny Lake, a two-mile hike. Our first stop was the gift shop. We went in to get change. We were sidetracked by the gift shop’s diverse wonders. I myself purchased at digital watch made out of a similar material to silicone bracelets. It goes with my LiveStrong bracelet really nicely.

The hike wasn’t all that fun, considering I had a stomachache, but a mile or so in we saw a knot of people standing slightly off the trail, silent. One of them shushed me. A bear, she mouthed. I climbed up. A young-looking black bear was frolicking among the trees. I was a tad freaked out. I passed the message on to Emily and Dad and set off along the trail. Emily caught up to me. “It’s coming this way,” she said. Mom was delighted. She was snapping pictures like a lion tamer snaps a whip.

A little along the path, we met a family skipping stones. We joined them and started up a conversation. It was pretty fun. At the end of the trail was a ferry to take you back across the lake if you didn’t want to walk back. Rachel was busy obsessing over a ladybug she found on the trail and christened “Spot.” She alleged she would let it go if flew away, but when it escaped, she lunged for it and placed it back on its prison atop her walking stick.

We drove past Jackson Hole to what the TomTom GPS called a Book Trader. I excitedly picked out what books to keep and which to trade, sorted them by condition, and considered what I might like in return. The shop was closed when we got there. Whupee. There was a movie, game and bookstore in the same mall, so we inspected it instead. I didn’t buy anything, but we enjoyed perusing. I’d like to return there sometime with more money on hand.

Our park wasn’t exactly great, but we had a good time talking and playing lawn darts with the kids from the RV next door. I’m just thrilled to be in Idaho, state of potatoes, Napoleon Dynamite, and my favorite fanfiction author, Kenya Starflight. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll hear a cry of “Idiot! Gosh!”

August 12th: Four Books and a Water Bottle

Rachie looked adorable all bundled up for her hike. She had a variety of objects slung over her shoulder, my blue Old Navy sweater, several sizes too big for her, and was wearing knee-socks with soccer shorts. In short, she was ready to go at seven forty, when our hikers planned to leave.

Seeing as we had to be out of the site by 10 AM, Mom needed some help doing laundry. I, like a fool, offered to go down to the Laundromat and do it for her. Soon I was loaded up with a host of quarters, huge bags of dirty clothes, and Animorphs: The Test. Not to brag, but that’s 135 pages of a 5th grade reading level, and I finished it before the lights were out of the dryer (about an hour). I was extremely proud of this fact while Mom walked me back to the campground and we prepared to pull out at exactly 9:58. We drove to the Visitors’ Center, a sort of unofficial parking garage for RV’s for a day. I noticed some boxes hooked up to the end of the RV in front of us.

Drawn by some strange influence, I read the label of the box through the windshield. It wasn’t easy, reading around the smears of deceased insects, but no biggie for a girl who can finish the Test in a wash load. I waved Mom over to confirm what I had decoded.
“Maximum absorbance adult incontinence diapers? Why the heck would you display that for the world to see?”

Incredulously, we moved on to the next box. “Disposable briefs? I would at least cover the labels up with duct tape to make it look like I was reinforcing it.” Stifling our giggles, we headed down to the lake, me with another Animorphs in hand (the Hidden). We waded in the lake and I polished off my book. Emily was astounded.
“You read another one!?” she exclaimed, enviously. “Let’s see if you can read one in an hour when we get back.”

I grabbed Animorphs: the Underground and started my reading engine at 12 o’clock sharp. There were 164 pages and 60 minutes in an hour. I wrongly assumed that if I was reading two pages per minute I’d be good. I thought I was doing well when I had more than that, but I finished right at 1 o’clock. This makes a lot more sense now that I actually typed the numbers down. Hmmm.

I got lunch after my victory. All that reading made me hungry. Seeing as there wasn’t much else to do, I picked up yet another Animorphs. The Exposed. Emily liked it because it had squid on the cover. We moved outside to a picnic table, the paint so hot we had to get a towel and sit on it. Emily allowed me to take a break from literature and play her GameBoy. That got monotonous after several minutes and Em wanted us to get some more water bottles at the general store, within walking distance. I volunteered to go with her. The water cost eight bucks and Mom gave us a ten, and said we could spend the change. Em blew her buck on a Fudgjo. I was a smarter shopper. It took a long while of looking around “the Bargin Loft” but I spotted a bin of 99 cent water bottles and wisely invested in one of them. Emily, regrettably consumed by covetousness at my astuteness in the realm of budget shopping, commanded that I carry the water bottle case on my head. Or maybe it was because I said I wanted to pretend I was one of the villagers that has to carry gallons of water on their heads every day because the don’t have running water. Same diff.

Either way, when we got back, Rachel and Dad were sharing pictures and anecdotes of their journey. We set off for the Grand Tetons National Park. Dad said that he would buy the Pirates of the Caribbean 2 DVD if there was a place we could buy it between the parks. There wasn’t, but we don’t even know when it comes out on DVD. Any chance you guys could look it up?

Dad taught us to play Blackjack once we arrived at the campground. We bet rocks. The problem was Emily refused to bet anything, the rocks had no worth, and Rach kept picking up more off the ground until she had more than the dealer. But all in all, kinda fun.

August 11th: I Am Jedi Material

We got up early again to go on a trail ride. It wasn’t quite as fun as the last one because we were riding nose-to-tail, but we talked to a very knowledgeable and social wrangler, saw a herd of prong horned deer, and learned that forests burn down naturally every 400 to 600 years. Because we were close to Mammoth, we decided to get lunch there. They had good brownies. Dad also wanted to listen to a lecture there. We didn’t, so Mom and Dad let us sit under a tree and wait till it was done.

Here I discovered my Jedi peacekeeping skills. Rachel and Emily started fighting over who was taking up more space on the blanket. I, being the caring older sister I am, I solved the dispute easily.
“Emily, be quiet and don’t bother Rachel. Rachel, be quiet and don’t bother Emily.” The solution was brilliant, but my dear sisters didn’t see it fit to comply. Their squabble was only resolved by the arrival of our parents.

When we got back to the park, we found we had some new neighbors (a new family was camping next-door.) Two of them were our age, and the five of us spent a happy evening biking around the loop of our campsite. Tomorrow, Rachel and Dad are going on a six-hour hike. I’m rather enjoying the prospect of the two of them hiking up mountainous terrain as Em, Mom and I sit in the RV, drinking root beer. Better not to tell her that, though…

August 10th: This Won’t Be Terribly Interesting

Quick public service message- Not every campsite we go to has Internet connection, so I'm not able to update the blog every day. Just thought I should explain that.

To sum up most of the day, we drove. And drove some more. And then we drove farther. And then (you guessed it) we drove again, but slower, seeing the road from Yellowstone’s East Entrance is under construction. We made camp at our campsite. We packed into the Subaru and went to see Old Faithful. Frankly, I didn’t see its appeal. It spits water in the air every hour. So do most infants, sadly. Interestingly enough, people flock to infants, too. Perhaps there’s a connection.

We went inside the Visitors’ Center and got some rejuvenating ice cream, which we worked on as we trudged along Geyser Boardwalk. There was a lovely stream, but the geysers themselves held no charm for me (aside from a strange urge to leap into one or two of the hot springs). They smelled like sulfur and looked diseased. To me, it appeared like the Earth had sprung a leak or suffered an infected sore, something that needed healing, not something to be treated as an attraction. But, hey, that’s me.

August 9th: Mile Long Hike in Flip Flops- The Joys of Mt. Rushmore

We woke up early (an event which, unfortunately, is becoming more and more common) to see the sunrise on the faces of Rushmore. I was immersed in my current book (Animorphs: The Illusion) and I have to admit, found it more interesting than the landscape.
“Look, a mountain goat!” Dad observed. Well, la dee la. Tobias just got captured by the Yeerks and the rest of the Animorphs don’t even know. The goat can wait. It was a cute goat, though. One thing I’ve noticed about animals from federal parks is that they are not anywhere near as shy as the ones back home. I mean, deer in Waynesboro will dart away as soon as you look at them. Here there’s goat standing smack dab in the island of a three-way intersection of the most famous nation monument west of the Mississippi, nonchalantly chewing grass.

Once in the parking lot, we spotted a model with a motorcycle and a photographer taking pictures for what I assumed was the Sturgis Rally Daily (I’m not joking, it’s a real newspaper. From what I saw of it, it primarily features scantily-clad females with bikes. Hence, my deduction.) Dad was perhaps a little too interested in this, and snapped up his own picture as we walked by.

We ate a nice breakfast at the Rushmore Café and got a beautiful view of the faces. We wondered what the criteria is for getting your face up there. I think you must be relatively good looking, have a big nose, and be a good President. I bet Kerry would have made it. He definitely has the nose.

Dad really wanted to get a closer look. I greeted this with my usual enthusiasm for unnecessary walking. Come on, it’s the same faces no matter what angle. The loop sign advertised itself as only 0.2 miles. Then, once we got ON the trail, it told us the loop was 0.6 miles. We walked it, us sane people (those under the age of fifteen) protesting violently all the way. Finally, after we were finished, another sign informed us (rather mockingly, I though) that it was another 0.2 miles to the Visitors’ Center. A mile in sandals is not fun, trust me.

After we were done experiencing the multifold delights of our beloved Mount Rushmore, we hit the road into Wyoming. I have to say this is the prettiest state I’ve been to so far. We drove on a winding highway (déjà vu?) through a breathtaking valley. I took many, many pictures.

Our campsite was AWESOME. We could see the whole pool from our site; we had a patio, complete with swing, picnic table and grill, Internet (from which you received the post “Hardly Worth Mentioning”) and sweet, sweet cable. I wouldn’t have minded staying there an extra couple of days, but Yellowstone awaits.

August 8th: Hardly Worth Mentioning, But...

We left the Badlands after inspecting both the vistor's museum and something called "the Big Pig Dig" where palentology students where excavating the fossils of a giant pig and other animals that got stuck in a mud pit (as one of the students phrased it, "massive carnage"). We drove for several hours when we reached the mother of all things tacky and tourist-y: Wall Drug. The place was PACKED with Sturgis Rally-goers. We ate lunch at the almighty Wall Drug restraunt and bought hats (for the Grand Canyon) at a neighboring store. We actually took a picture as we were pulling out of all the motorcycles. They streched up all of Main Street.

We had a little mishap while getting gas. When Dad was trying to get out of the station, he hit a small table trying to sell you gas-reward credit cards. The manager, fortuantly, was not upset. He said the table was broken, anyway. I think we gave the bikers a good laugh over that. The place was crawling with them, did I mention that? Every store you pass has a sign out that says "Welcome Sturgis Rallyers!" or "Biker's Special."

And now, our feature presentation. Unsucessfully trying to find our campsite without the direction of our beloved GPS, TomTom, we assumed our best choice to go was Needles Highway. Needles Highway, as my elder cousins Jeff, Scott and Keith may recall, is a winding, scenic highway with multiple switchbacks and (drumroll, please) a 10-feet-high, 10-feet-wide, rock tunnel which you must drive through. No problemo for a motorcyle or car, but an RV...

After considering the dire portents of the "No Large Vechicles" signs at the very bottom of the highway, we decided that the company who booked us, knowing full well that we were taking an RV to camp in, would not have made it so we were forced to drive a road that would prove itself inexcessable to us. After all, they are professionals, are they not?

Wrongo! We got all the way to the tunnel, biting our nails all the way (literally, in my case) until we got to the big no-no: the impassable tunnel. We pondered our situation. Bikers passed, some scoffing at us (and getting flicked off) and some offering their help. Mom and I were in the Subaru, unsure of what would happen next. Finally, Dad made the fateful desicion to back up.

Mom and I were shocked. No way he could back up the whole mountain? It was ALL switchbacks! Then, it occured to us that he might not have to back up the WHOLE mountain. After all, he could simply go straight at the first U-turn.

To make a long story short, he did. We made it! The five of us breathed a collective sigh of relief. As the sun was setting, we went to visit Crazy Horse Monument, a work in progress. It was desinged to show that "the red men have heroes, too." It shows Crazy Horse pointed to the Black Hills astride his horse, immortalizing the moment he said, "My lands are where my dead lie buried." It's the largest statue in the world, larger even than Mount Rushmore. I thought it was cool...

August 7th: We Obviously Enjoy Irony in Names

We enjoyed our first day in the Badlands Resort quite a lot, despite the ABOVEGROUND pool. That was weird. We started the day be going on a trail ride across the resort. It was one of the coolest things I’ve done in my life. We saw awesome rock formations, but unfortunately, our camera ran out of juice before we could get the really good shots. When we got back (after taking a shower- horses don’t smell too good) Emily and I watched Return of the Jedi. Rach started whining that she wanted someone to take her to the pool (Lord only knows why) right when Han Solo got out of the carbonite. By the time they were at the Sarlaac’s nest, I was so annoyed I finally gave in. We made a deal: One chapter of the Fellowship of the Rings, and then we would go back. We returned just in time for the battle of Endor. Regrettably, Em and Rach were not so keen on watching the movie again with guided commentary (who wouldn’t?) and limited me to three scenes. I’ll tell you, that Rachel is a tough cookie. I tried my darndest to get an extra scene out of her, but she wouldn’t have it.

We went on a sunset hike, rather intense if I do say so myself. There was one point where there was a rope ladder that went vertical for about 70 feet. After that, there were some narrow points of the trail where it was wisest to lean against the cliffs. The view was worth it, though. We took several pictures of Tiki Man with the Badlands behind him. He never looked better. The Badlands are unbelievably beautiful. Really, if you didn’t know their name, "bad" would be the last thing to come to mind.

We also went on a nighttime tour called "Nightcrawlers" where a tour guide lead us out to some of the lower buttes, sat us down, and lectured us about the different ways nocturnal animals sense the world in the dark, then challenged us to try and see if our other senses were heightened by the night. Being the weekend of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, and seeing as a horde of bikers are passing through the area, most of what I sensed was bikers revving up, but, hey, that’s something…