Life in Knoxville

Last week, I raved on and on about my school life. And, heaven knows, there's plenty to rave about. Lots of reading to do, lots of nerves about leading my discussion sections, and my first writing assignment due this coming Monday. Yes, I'll be laboring on Labor Day weekend. 

But I think today I'll say a few things about living in Knoxville.

First, let's get the proniunciation down right. It's not nox-vill. It's noxvl. That's right, you just add a mumbly vl to nox and make it one syllable instead of two. 

Same goes with nearby Maryville. That's pronounced in all one syllable by adding that same mumbly vl to mare.  You can drop that y right off Mary's name! 

I live in the West Hills section of Knoxville, and I'm so glad I do. Every store I might ever need is no further away than three miles or so. Target, Kohl's, the very important Bath and Body Works (so necessary for my bubble bath needs), an AT&T store, Office Depot (as I'm addicted to office supplies), and my new grocery store, Food City. 

Food City reminds me of Raleys or Bel Air back home. Except that they have a section devoted to UT merchandise. The most interesting item in this section comes from the makers of Jell-O. You can buy a kit that comes with orange Jell-O and a mold that lets you make little orange gelatinous T's. While they do not provide the Vodka, you've got to know that this little kit would make the best Jell-O shots EVER!  Reiner Herbon, don't be surprised if just such a kit finds its way to your house for Indy Weekend. Of course, Reiner Herbon is not a reader of this blog, so this gift will come as a surprise. 

One other major difference between Food City and the stores back home concerns the baggers. No fresh-faced kids just out of high school bag your groceries and take them to your car. No, Food City has chosen to give those tasks to the elderly. Not really the ancients, but people definitely older than me. One particular lady has bagged my groceries twice now. She's slow as molasses flowing up a glacier in winter. Not that this is necessarily bad in the view of Knoxvillians. Life does move slower here. But this lady has a resting bitch face that remains even when her face isn't resting. With hollow eyes that look like she's one of the last survivors of the zombie apocalypse and just waiting for a walker to bite her so she can shake off her mortal coils, she mumbles to me, "do you want some help out to your car?"  Uh, no?  It would be like standing idly by while my 116-year-old Nana struggled to heft a case of Diet Coke into my trunk. 

Not all older employed people are like the zombie apocalypse lady from Food City. My mailman's name is, strangely enough, Cricket. Cricket is wonderful. I get lots of Amazon packages, of course, and he's willing to hand them off to me without making me wait for him to process all of the complex' mail. I love that. And, everyone first introduced to Cricket is advised by him that he's got just seven years until retirement. Talk about counting the days....

There's one other older gentleman that I want to mention today. I don't know his name, but I call him Leatherback. Here's how I came to notice him. On Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, I'm not required to be on campus. So, those are the days when I do my laundry or go to sit by the pool to study. And, every time I've done so, Leatherback has also come to the pool. He's probably in his 60s, and has that orangy-brown leather hide that comes from waaaaaay too much laying around by the pool (or comes naturally from being born a cow). He chooses the same lounge chair each time, in the same spot alongside the pool. He brings with him a cooler of some sort, from which he pulls out cans of something--can't see the labels but I'm guessing it's really cheap beer. And he turns on a little radio thing--not too loud but he doesn't put in earbuds the way everyone else does by the pool. And he sits and stares into space. He doesn't watch the cute girls or even the cute boys, he doesn't watch the few little children that are brought down to the pool, he doesn't even watch the older chubby redhead with glasses on her nose and a book in her hands. He just stares into nothingness. Maybe he, too, is waiting for inevitable death, but he's waiting with music and cheap beer. At some point, you just can't get any more leathery. 

All that being said, I find I like it in Knoxville. People are generally friendly, young folks call you "ma'am," and one student even called me "teacher" today.  And new friends Chris and Alicia want to go looking at old cemeteries while my fellow GTA Matthew promises to accompany me to The Hermitage in a few weeks so we can draw strength from Ol' Hickory. 

I'll come back to Sacramento in a few years, hopefully with a Ph.D. in my hands. But, for now, I'm loving Knoxville. 

P.S.  To my most darling of readers, beautiful Nini, hurry up and get well. I'm missing you terribly and can't wait to have a good old-fashioned snark fest with you again. 

Second Week of School

Oh my. The second week of school is over, and I actually feel a bit wiser. I learned some lessons easily, others not so much. 

Monday saw the first class in the research/writing seminar. The instructor, Dr. H., had given us a reading assignment, a journal article by historian Stephanie McCurry. I had read a book by McCurry for my MA exams, so I was pretty excited about this opportunity to read more of her work. Dr. H. warned us that we would be doing a "close reading," but I felt pretty confidant that my usual reading and note-taking would be just fine. 

Here's where the first hard-way lesson was learned. A close reading means a CLOSE reading. Each word choice, each thought, each comma--it all made a difference. And we went over the whole article with a fine-toothed comb. The exercise was painful but so wonderfully instructive. I left class feeling exhausted and exilerated, both at the same time. 

Thursday came, and I have back-to-back classes running from 12:40 to 6:25. The theory class discussed the nuts and bolts of historical reading and footnoting, but with a twist. The texts we read actually looked at those technical practices historically. The History of the Footnote was just that--a history about historians documenting their sources. Dr. P., the instructor for this class, seamlessly included this historical information along with a discussion about present-day methods. Painlessly, we learned the lessons of the class, but I'm sorry to report that I didn't remember a lesson from the well-loved Dr. Rose at Sac State. I didn't look up information on the writers we read, nor did I look at any book reviews. And Dr. P. called the class out on this. Yes, Dr. Rose would be ashamed!

My gender history class is a hoot!  We were assigned a ton of reading, much of which I was scrambling to read on Wednesday night and Thursday morning in the wonderful Hodges Library, fifth floor, tables by the windows.

We read one absolutely incomprehensible author--the way the woman wrote made me want to smack her with a baseball bat (and readers of this blog know just how much I dislike baseball). Happily, Dr. S., the gender history instructor, did not make us do a close reading of that tedious work!  In fact, she guided the class discussion in such a way that we got the information in a way that was both understandable and easy to remember. 

Thursday night, I paid the price for putting off preparing for my Friday discussion sections. I should have done it on Wednesday afternoon, but I went grocery shopping and lazed around my tiny flat instead. So, after that arduous afternoon of class work, I had to come home and develop questions for my discussion sections. I also needed to build a little Excel spreadsheet to keep roll and grade info for my students. I finished my prep and then fell into bed. Hard way to learn a lesson. 

Friday morning arrived. My discussion questions worked better than I could have hoped, and my 9:00 section went pretty well. I was much more nervous about the 10:00 section as Dr. H. was coming by to observe. So, the questions worked again but the discussion wasn't as lively. Dr. H. then walked with me to my next section, and he couldn't have been nicer about critiquing my methods. First he told me the things I did well, then he gently combined some criticism with good suggestions on how to improve. I used those suggestions in my next section, and my students responded just the way he said they would. I left that 11:00 section walking on air!!

Office hours were spent talking with fellow GTAs in the office next door--which is much nice than the office I share as they have decorated and brought in their own coffeemaker. I must spruce up the space I share!  And I read a draft chapter of pal Shannon's wonderful MA thesis on the women's movement at Sac State. 

Home now, stretched out on Lovie the fainting couch, watching Little House on the Prairie. Much more reading to do this weekend, but I'm hoping the weather continues to be nice so I can do that studying poolside. And I won't wait until the last minute to get my work done! 

OK, I probably will, but I'm going to try not to. 

Ah, the life of the grad student....

Living the Dream

My pal Shannon posted that on Facebook today, and it suddenly struck me how true it is. Coming to the South to pursue a Ph.D. has been my dream for a long time. And here I am, doing it. Amazing!

I write today from my GTA (graduate teaching assistant) office on the 5th floor of Dunford Hall. Through the branches of the trees, I can see the construction on the new Student Union and the cars and people along Volunteer Boulevard. It's a nice view. 

From 1:00 to 3:00 p.m. on Fridays are my office hours. As I didn't expect many visitors today, I brought a 19-page essay by historian Stephanie McCurry to read. But I'm so mentally, physically, and emotionally fried that I'm going to blog instead. 

Now, this fried condition is actually the result of a fantastic week. I can begin on Wednesday morning, the first day of actual classes. I had no classes of my own that day, but the History 221 that I am the GTA for had its first meeting that day. It's a huge class, 120 students, which is why my fellow GTA and I have three discussion sections each on Fridays. 

There was actually an adventure even before I got to class Wednesday morning. When I woke that day, it was raining. I looked around for an umbrella but found none--not surprising. Fine, no worries. These rain things come and go. You know what?  This one came and stayed. I waited in my car as long as I could but eventually had to head toward class. Happily, there was a Walgreens on the walk from the parking garage to the classroom. I burst through those doors, turned to the young man working there, and shouted "UNBRELLAS?"  He was standing right next to them. I picked out an orange one and continued my journey to class, but my shoes stayed soaked for the rest of the day. 

After that first 221 class, I had my first one-on-one with my interim advisor. I couldn't have been happier. My advisor is nice, funny, and generous with his time and knowledge. I left there feeling like a million bucks. 

That night, a terrific thunderstorm passed over Knoxville. As Maddie and Heidi can attest, I like to watch the lightning and rain and to hear the thunder. So, I opened my patio door to peek out. Getting braver, I stepped out into the patio to get a clearer view of the sky. Just then, a flash of lightning turned everything around me white. Immediately, a CRASH of thunder sounded so loud that I could feel the vibrations in the air. Bravery deserted me, and I scampered back inside, slammed shut the door, and closed the blinds tight. This is not your California thunderstorm!

Thursday saw the first of my own classes and my first Starbucks visit. The classes are kind of big for reading seminars, but once again, I felt like I was with my people. Both instructors on Thursday are wonderful, and I have an idea that I'm really going to like working with the gender studies instructor--she's also a fan of old movies!!

Today I held my three discussion sections.  The first and third take place in one building, while the middle one is in a totally different building (all part of UT's apparent effort to make me physically fit). The students all seem nice and polite, so I'm hoping for a fun and smooth semester. 

And now it's office hours and Stephanie McCurry is calling to me. I can't wait until 3:00 when I can go home to my tiny flat, bolt the door, and hibernate until Monday. 

Living the dream here in Knoxville....

P.S.  I'm totally styling the big hair. I look like I have a red-furred sheepdog on my head. 

Best Orientation EVER

I'm exhausted but elated!  I've opened my patio door to hear the rain and the random crash of thunder. I've kicked off my shoes and have crashed on Lovie the fainting couch. I have a million things to do, but I soooo want to write about my day. 

I got up early and was out the door by 7:30, just in case I got lost. I made it to the parking structure by 8:00--and then realized I didn't have my parking pass (which was sitting on my desk!). I threw caution to the wind and parked anyway. (And can happily report that I didn't get a ticket.)

I took a wrong turn out if the garage, sadly, and walked a few extra blocks before I got my bearings and headed for the Library. It was hot as hell at 8:00 a.m., so my first stop at the Library was the ladies' room to towel my face dry. This is apparently going to be a thing I do here in Knoxville. It makes make-up a waste of time, but that's just the way it goes. 

There were muffins and bagels and coffee and juice at the orientation, so I had some juice but was too nervous to eat. 

Slowly but surely other students arrived, not just the 15 of us new to the graduate program, but several returning students as well. It didn't take long for conversations to spring up (it never does for me). I was once again with my people. Before the muffins were even eaten, I found a pair of my colleagues who are willing to show me the local cemeteries. I'm so excited!  (Yes, I love cemeteries!)

Orientation itself was interesting and informative. One of my office mates put together a group to go to lunch, so I had a yummy chicken Caesar and a beer with six fellow students. Conversation ranged across topics like "things to do around Knoxville" to "the problems with the latest Hobbit movie" to "barbershop quartet singing."  It was openly acknowledged that it was a very nerdy discussion. 

Unfortunately, it was a grueling uphill walk back to the Library, so I again arrived as a sweaty mess. Next on the agenda was a tour of the Library with the history librarian. The Library isn't old and dignified like Yale's, but it is modern and tasteful, unlike Sac State's. Lots of places to study and people-watch. And, joy of joys, there's a Starbucks and a little store right inside. Coffee, snacks, and soda right there!  

I had my first meeting with the professor for whom I will be a TA this semester, along with my fellow TA in the class. I'll be leading three "discussion sections" this semester. I'll also be grading papers and exams. It won't be easy, but I'm looking forward to the challenge. 

Next came the department reception at Calhoun's on the river. Yvette, this is the Calhoun's we need to visit next time--beautiful view of the river. It was pretty fancy, with a nice buffet (the only graduate student "meal plan" offered). Actually, I had run into a fellow student as I walked from Dunford Hall to my car, so she rode with me to Calhoun's and took on the role of navigator. After a very nice time, and meeting some more colleagues (and agreeing to a trip to the Shiloh battlefield next April), I gave a ride home to two new pals who live on campus. It was a good thing I did, as they were facing either the wait for the bus or an hour-long walk in the rain. 

The day could not have gone better. Fellow history grad students are as friendly in Knoxville as they are in Sacramento. I was with my people (I can't say this enough!)

Tomorrow is the real first day of school. I'll again be up at the crack of dawn to find parking and wend my way to the classroom. This time, I think I'll pack an umbrella. 

Relaxed and happy in my tiny flat....

  

A Busy Few Days

News Flash:  I am NOT writing this from my bathtub. 

The last few days have passed by so quickly that I don't know how to describe them. But I'm going to try. 

First, with Yvette taking on the monstrous task of setting up my kitchen, that room is probably the most complete.  She has also generously stocked my shelves and fridge, so I will not starve for quite a while. She's been so in charge of the kitchen that Maddie, when asked to do the dishes, sincerely stated that she thought Yvette liked to do dishes. Yvette dispelled that idea post haste. 

My bedroom has been left up to me, and thus it remains a big ol' mess. Maddie put away all my DVD's, meaning that they are now arranged in alphabetical order. We all have our strengths. 

I have all sorts of plans for my new space but no desire to nest as yet. I know that desire will come, but it hasn't so far.  Instead, I'm doing some relaxing and also learning important things like how warm the pool is (pretty nice) and how to do laundry in the complex's laundry room (not exceedingly difficult).  

We have explored a bit of the city over the last few days. Yvette has fallen in love with west Knoxville, and with good reason. There is one main drag, Kingston Pike, and you can find everything you need either on it or on a street off of it. Traffic isn't bad, lines aren't too awful in the stores--it's actually a very nice place to live. 

We tried Calhoun's for dinner on Tuesday, and I ate the best fried pickles in the world. And their own label lager was delicious also, as was the IPA that Yvette enjoyed. Maddie found the bartender poured a generous amount of Jim in her Jim-and-Coke, a circumstance which always makes her happy. 

Today was orientation for GTAs (Graduate Teaching Assistants). Yvette drove me over so she could use the car to go exploring, while Maddie slept her customary twelve-hours-a-night. 

The orientation was held in what I assume is the arena where both basketball and volleyball are played, as banners for these two sports hung from the walls and there was a huge digital scoreboard thingy in the middle. The Graduate Studies Department laid out a nice continental breakfast, and the presentation was only two hours long. The information was quite useful, but I'll feel better when I get the rest of the story at the History Department GTA training next Tuesday. 

Yvette picked me up when it was over and drove us to the Market Square section of town, which she had scoped out while I was at the orientation. It's a lovely place, a pedestrian street with shops and restaurants lining the sides and a wonderful sculpture commemorating the suffrage movement. We stopped at a place called Tupelo Honey for lunch, at which meal I again ate fried okra (damn, I can't get enough!!). After lunch, we walked through the little sculpture park, a really nice space for relaxing and people-watching. 

Back to the tiny flat, and it was Maddie and I who set out next. She has been such a doll-baby with helping out through this entire ordeal that I took her for a little shopping spree at Barnes and Noble. With her nose in a new book, we may not see her again for a while. 

One more important item to cover before I go jump in my bathtub (yes, I know). With the kitchen in working order and with my two new frying pans from the SaveMart giveaway back home, yesterday Yvette put her culinary skills to the test. For breakfast, she delivered up a savory breakfast casserole made with eggs, sausage, cheese, and hash browns. Dinner was even more spectacular with salad, baked ziti, and garlic-cheese bread. Thank heavens, there are leftovers. 

OK, I have a copy of Civil War Times and a hot bath waiting for me....

Another Bubbly Blog

Yes, I'm in the tub again. I love this bathtub!  I'm using my French Lavender and Honey bubble bath, a gift from my darling Princess, and looking back on a crazy day. 

The most important things on my to-do list today were to get a money order for my security deposit and to sign my employment papers. The first chore necessitated a visit to the local Post Office. Those of you who have been within the sound of my voice before-during-after visits to that erstwhile organization founded by Benjamin Franklin know that I'm not a fan. The Post Office is not a venue that places a high premium on customer service. So I didn't expect much when I walked into 37909. But, I held the door for an old man walking behind me, and he said, "thank you, darlin'," so I was totally tickled. Of course, the line was long but I got to the point where I would be the next lucky contestant when I heard a chicken. Being me, I wondered WTF. And, when I was called to the counter, I explained my business but then quickly asked, "Is that a chicken?"  "No," came the placid reply from the clerk, "that's a rooster."  Yes, in some nether reaches of 37909, a rooster, along with a few other birds whose species remain unknown to the clerk, holds forth and crows even though it was afternoon. You can't get that level of entertainment value at the 95624, I can tell you. 

Next stop was the campus of the University of Tennessee. OMG!  It makes Sac State seem the size of a modest high school. To make it worse, there was construction all over the place, including road work. I couldn't find a single place that said "student parking," so I parked in a 30-minute spot and prayed that I'd get to Dunford Hall (home of the History Department) and back in time. 

When I stepped out of the car, I knew I was in trouble. Like Knoxville itself, the campus is built on hills. And the air was 90% water and 10% oxygen and felt like 120 degrees (I am given to understand it was only in the low 90s, but that's not how it felt).  But I trudged along like a lost waif until a kindly lady with a charming drawl pointed me in the right direction. Once inside the building, I had no trouble finding the office I was seeking and the very nice Kim who does the paperwork for TA's. Of course, I had sweat dripping down my face, and she kindly offered me a couple of Kleenex to dry off before signing the necessary paperwork. 

Back to the tiny flat, where Maddie and Yvette had been getting stuff more organized. Here I have to mention that the two of them are f'ing amazing. Tolerant of my overwhelmedness (I'm making that a new word) and helpful to an extreme, I couldn't do this without them. Literally, I couldn't handle it either emotionally or practically without these two. Or my mom, who stands by the phone ready to ride to my rescue like a knight in shining red hair. 

Here I am getting weepy, so I'll continue on with the day's highlights. 

An early dinner deemed appropriate for this hardworking crew, we dined at the local Cracker Barrel, courtesy of the awesome Anita. Good ol' Southern cooking meant another chance for me to enjoy fried okra. Thanks, Nini--it was delicious!

Back to the tiny flat, we finished unloading the truck, including tackling the monster china cabinet. When that was done, Yvette continued her quest to start me off with a well-organized, clean kitchen. I hope I'll actually cook in it before I return to California. 

One last word before I sign off for the evening. Gas prices here are AMAZING!  

That's all from Knoxville. Nighty-night!

I Am Arrived

I write this blog from my new apartment, in my new bathroom, from the bubbly confines of my new bathtub. I can see why scientists say that moving is right up there with death of a loved one when it comes to trauma. This process is STRESSFUL!  Thank heavens I have Yvette and Maddie with me!!

I love the apartment. While it doesn't have the fireplace I wanted, it does have new paint, all new appliances, and lovely old-timey hardwood floors.  The walls are a pale green with a darker olive for accent. While the bathtub is spacious and made for laying in, there seems to be no cold water available from its faucet. No, wait, I wrote too soon. I think I have to get accustomed to this new type of faucet. And, of course, I need to learn how to control water flow and temperature with my feet. That's a must. 

The sound of cicadas fills the air here;I can hear them in the house even with the doors and windows shut. The neighbors make a little noise on the ceiling, but that's pretty much apartment living.

My kitchen is beautiful; small but with brand-new appliances--the stove has never been cooked on. And the freezer made ice so damned fast--a must in this climate. But really. What a waste on somebody like me who could live on cereal, popcorn, and Diet Pepsi. 

So far, I haven't seen much of the famed Southern hospitality. Lauren, one of the office girls here at my complex, was one outstanding exception to this finding. She greeted me with such a big hug when I got here. We've bonded over the course of many phone calls, and she's very sweet. 

Another exception were the two neighbors I met while they were walking their dogs. Of course, bonding over dogs is universal. And the lady at Kohl's this afternoon when I needed last-minute bath towels was very nice. She knew people associated with Sac State's Engineering Department and has even visited in Sacramento before. But my upstairs neighbors seem a little douchey. Not bad, just not friendly. 

So, I'll spend my first night on Heidi's air mattress, which will serve as my bed until I buy one. There are still a ton of things left in the moving truck that need to come in, but that can wait until tomorrow. The building which houses my tiny flat sits atop a little hill, meaning that everything from a light box of clothes to my heavy-as-hell china cabinet has to come up. It's hard work but we'll move the rest of the stuff up tomorrow. 

Oh, and my hair would be huge with the humidity if it weren't for the fact that I've sweated so much that it's plastered to my head. 

Time for some more cool water into my tub....

Crossing the Ohio

Hold on to your hoop skirts, Scarlett!  I crossed the Ohio and am now in the South!!

Left Independence this morning after breakfast at the Waffle House--although Yvette tried to get us into a better place, the wait time and lack of adequate space for Buck nixed that. 

Our first stop for gas (Buck being a prodigious drinker of that particular liquid) was in Boonesville, MO. Back in the 1840s and 1850s, this area was home to my Tucker ancestors. To Maddie, I pondered aloud why the Tuckers would leave the lush green prairies and gently rolling hills of Missouri for the dirty work of Quartz mining in dismal Bakersfield. Maddie replied with a quote from the television show Fairly Oddparents: "As they say in Missouri, I ain't never goin' back to Missouri."

Within a few hours of Boonesville, we arrived on the outskirts of St. Louis. Today was apparently the anniversary of the unrest in Ferguson, so we gave the north side of town a wide berth (thanks to Tricia, who is with us on this trip via various digital means). We drove beside the Gateway Arch then crossed the Mighty Mississippi into Illinois. 

Across the bottom of the Land of Lincoln and Punky, we crossed the beautiful Ohio River into Kentucky. Seriously, the Ohio was wider and more interesting than the Mississippi.  And I felt like I was crossing really into the South, from a free state to a slave state (OK, so that was 150+ years ago--it's how I think of things). 

We've stopped for the night in Clarksville, just over the border into Tennessee. Yvette picked Mexican food for our last meal on the road. She decided we would walk to the place, which turned out to be quite an adventure in a land without sidewalks and crosswalks. Maddie feared for her status as a law-abiding citizen when we jay-ran across Wilma Rudoloh Biulevard, which is apparently the main drag of this burg. But we arrived at the restaurant safely and, fortified by a pitcher of Margaritas, made it back as well. 

Now we are settled into the last hotel of our journey. Tomorrow's trip into Knoxville should only take just over three hours.  My new home awaits....

Crossing the Big Muddy

Hello from Independence, MO, home town of Harry Truman (to err is Truman) and just outside the BBQ capital of the world, Kansas City. 

We got a decently early start to the day, on the road by 9:30 (for Maddie, it's like she had to wake up in the middle of the night). Mad and Yvette breakfasted at the hotel; sadly, by the time Mad got there, there were no more forks and she ate biscuits and gravy with a knife, just like in medieval times. After a little bit of time on the road, Buck required a fill-up, so we stopped at a gas a station, where I suggested that Yvette in Stella take the lead. Breakfast having proved insufficient, she was jonesing for Starbucks, so she led the way. 

This served as a WTF moment. The woman who never drives more than 65 in her sensible and safe SUV got behind the wheel of my big dirty girl and took off like she was Barney Oldfield (look it up if you don't know who that is--or ask my dad or Midge). The term "bat out of hell" has never been more relevant. 

The consequence of Yvette's time in the lead was, sadly, no sign of a Starbucks but good time made on the road. We crossed the Missouri River to leave Nebraska and actually ended up in Iowa for a few miles before winding our way through the snarly traffic, road construction, and chaos of Kansas City. Coming into Independence, it took every bit of self-restraint I have not to follow the signs to the American Negro League Hall of Fame and the Harry Truman Presidential Library. I comfort myself with the idea that when I go back home in about five years, I'm going to stop at all the cool places I'm missing now. 

Our hotel tonight is a short walk from a place called Rib Crib, so we paid homage to the local cuisine with some delicious BBQ and, more important, some fried okra. God bless Mary Ann Marler for turning me on to that most delicious of vegetable dishes when I was a kid. In honor of our making good time today (which is entirely due to Yvette's inner Barney Oldfield and Maddie's kleine Magellan navigational skills), Mad enjoyed a Jim & Coke while I had a cold frosty mug of beer. Yvette, being a professional race car driver, abstained from the adult beverages as she is "focused on the road."

Now we're tucked into bed, and the room is quiet except for Maddie in the shower and Yvette and I clicking the keys of Apple products. There are some pretty festive people on this floor, one of whom called Yvette and I "wholesome girls."  Hmmmm...

On the Road

Here I am in Sydney, Nebraska, it's 7:16 p.m., we've eaten dinner, and the GOP debate is on. Yes, one of the reasons for our early stop tonight was this debate (who doesn't want to watch Trump?).  But, we also need a respite after yesterday's craziness. 

I left my hometown yesterday morning, seen off by my parents, my Heidi, Randi, Penny the dog, Charlie Bucket the doc, Stella the dog, Mike, Marijo, and One Midge Parr the Card. A true 22nd Avenue parade!

Surprisingly, Maddie drove Stella the car through the Sierras, turning the wheel over to Yvette at Winnemucca, Nevada. I drove Buck the truck the entire day, and I'm pleased with his performance.

The craziness last night began in Salt Lake City. First, the smog in the valley is terrible, worse I think than Los Angeles. Perhaps there was a wildfire nearby, but the air made the entire town look dirty and unhealthy, which I know it's not. Worse than the air quality, however, was the massive apparel industry convention in town. No rooms at any inns, no rooms within a 60-mile radius. We ended up driving until nearly midnight to get a room at Little America. 

Truth to be told, our stay at Little America was pretty nice. While the wait times for check-in last night and for breakfast this morning were a little long, it was still pretty pleasant. 

On the road today and through beautiful Wyoming. Maddie fell in love with the buttes, which rose out of the ground like beautiful statues. 

So, our travels have brought us here to Sydney. If I had to pick the most interesting things I've seen so far, I'd pick Maddie's buttes, the landscape between Laramie and Cheyenne, the beautiful prairies of Wyoming and Nebraska, the salt flats of Utah, the Lincoln Monument outside Laramie, and the town of Rawlins, Wyoming, which looked like an old-timely western town built next to a railroad. 

Oh, I can't write any more. Rand Paul is getting the stuffing knocked out of him by Trump and Christie. 

More Nebraska tomorrow....