Half Cross-Country Road Trip Take 21 Planned for November 2013

 [The Charlies: Insane-o Traveling Folks]

Come October 26, Sara Schultz will be taking the Red-Eye flight to Chicago, Illinois with connection to Cedar Rapids, Iowa arriving at 8:42AM. She will likely be rested and cheery, anticipating a joyous reunion with her three sweet nieces and the other nice folks in Iowa including Baby Sister Molly Rose & Josh and Mom & Chuck.

What was to be a short trip to assist boyfriend, Justin, in his drive cross-country from North Carolina to Oregon has extended into a thirteen day vacation. After months of working extra she decided she deserved some days off. Then she decided she deserved some more. So they will have ample time to complete their journey to the West Coast before work calls again on November 8th.

As well, she is looking forward to celebrating Justin's 39th Birthday on November 7th. The last year of the thirties! Spooky! Also spooky is a Halloween with the nieces who have decided to be the Strawberry Shortcake Clan. Is it a coincidence that Middle Sister Carrie has a Strawberry Shortcake costume which also fits Sara? I think not. Auntie will be twinning up with Miss Lily for a night of evil fun! Hopefully they dole out lotsa fruit for the trick-or-treaters.

Speaking of Hurricanes, Justin has been working up a storm out East. Selling the camper, helping a friend staff his new business, repairing the house (bathroom overhaul and a couple new appliances, as well as new rugs, bedding and more), fixing his truck, buying a new used Suburu, visiting relatives, attending a wedding (today!), renting out his house on AirBnB, and developing a continued rental plan for when he returns West. All in under three months. He'll be hauling a carload of stuff and Mr. Bailey out to Oregon, picking up Sara in Iowa.  *She has volunteered to maneuver the Suburu through the snow and mountains should weather conditions become precarious.

Sara is not sure how many trips she has made across the USA. She could try to count.
Here is a rough guess:

• North Dakota to Texas and back
• North Dakota to Colorado and back
• North Dakota to Oregon/Washington and back (either direction, one time driving back through Canada on Hwy 1) - 6-7 times
• North Dakota to Missouri and back
• North Dakota to Pennsylvania and back 
• Up and down the West Coast
• Iowa to Virginia
• North Carolina to Pennsylvania and back
• North Carolina to Florida and back
• North Carolina to Iowa and back- twice
• North Carolina to Oregon 

She thinks that is about 20 half-country trips. Or so. In a nutshell, pretty much an insane person. But Justin knows this, and likes her anyway. They are both very independent people looking forward to their long-awaited reunion and sleeping in the same bed again. They are hoping to settle in soon enough into a house with a Mother-In-Law suite where relatives may visit for extended periods, including moms and grandmoms and any other stragglers who have long yearned for the beauty of Oregon.

Example of Grandmoms who might visit Oregon:

Feeling Gratefully Unemployed (in Boulder)

Walking through Boulder today, I felt like a regular person. I looked like a regular person. If I saw me, I would think I had a job. I feel like I'm pretending to be a regular person. But then I start to wonder, what is a regular person anyway? I realize I'm finally starting to enjoy the freedom unemployment brings. Just walking alone with my thoughts and smiling at strangers. This is living life.

"The meaning of life is to make life meaningful." - A.C. Grayling

Wandering through Boulder's Central Park toward downtown from our retro motor inn, leaves squishing through slushy snow, I could barely open my eyes in the blinding sun. Yet I was bundled in layers with freezing ears. Winter's icy brightness. Our motel is cozied into the mountain, and its name apt: Foot of the Mountain. It feels like we're buried in, especially with heavy snow clumped all over the land.

Boulder has a reputation of high maintenance, silver-spoon hippies. The last time I was here was twenty years ago when I was fifteen and fresh out of North Dakota. It seemed like a wonderland that time and I wished I could go to college here. This time it feels more commercial and more like a regular American town. I suspect Boulder's changed, but likely I've changed more.

Boulder's predictable in many ways: the residents' appearance (dreads, earrings, messy hair), consumer possibilities (outdoor stores, orthopedic shoes, energy field readings). And not so much in other ways: boring repetitive building styles, quiet back streets, exceptionally friendly residents.

I wandered into coffee shops, searching for the perfect cup. (I'm still hunting.) Stopped into the end of the Occupy Boulder meeting and met quiet, articulate, non-violent people of all ages. On the way home, I saw art through a massive windowed building and walked up to discover it was the public library, where they also hold movie screenings, GED classes, and more. It's apparent where the values lie in this community, and I feel an affinity for its residents.

In the library, I met a poet who'd lived in San Francisco and Kalispell. She gave me her number and, feeling drawn to this kindred spirit, I promised to call her for coffee later in the week. Flushed out of the library into the brisk cold, I scurried home to our little pine-walled room, but not before a few residents arriving home could say hello to me.

Traveling and unemployment have a way of reminding me what is important: taking time to breathe in life as it is offered to me.

Thoughtful post to share

A Voice From The 1% does a good job of addressing the questions raised surrounding the Occupy Wall Street movement. I've walked by protests in action and they appeared to be quiet people, clean and tidy, but still I did not know what I thought. I have always believed that while I have made good choices in my life, there is little that separates me from someone who has much less in life but a few strokes of luck.

Our country is in a state of demise in many ways and these protests are putting the our economic inequalities into question. For this I am proud- of the American right to free speech and that we are able to effect changes in this country. No matter what happens or whose side we are on, there is success in being reminded of the democratic process, of speaking up when we believe things need to change, of starting the dialogue.

Boston Academy

Last week, the American Academy of Optometry held their annual conference in Boston. Since I'm currently living without commitments, I decided to head east less than a week before the conference commenced. I purchased a ticket out of Chicago on Spirit Airlines (a US budget carrier) and arranged to stay with my friend Xandra (Alexandra) who I met in the south island of New Zealand and now lives in Cambridge. It's a delight and surreal to re-meet people who I met on the road in their hometowns. On the road we are sort of floating about, so seeing someone indigenously helps to complete the picture of who they are.

The conference offered a wide variety of education and I surely benefited, picking up some new things and catching up on changes that have occurred in my profession during my last four years abroad. Also fun was seeing old friends and roommates from optometry school, a colleague from New Zealand, old professors, and making new friends. I was glad to go, and it's also good to be home.

Allston (below) is a suburb of Boston where Xandra and I had dinner. It's Portland-like with heaps of coffee shops, a few second hand stores, and vegetarian restaurants. I grabbed a bus there from the conference center to meet Xandra. Boston transport is very simple to figure out. I bought a one week unlimited fare pass for $15 on arrival, which covers all modes of transport in the metro area.

The last time I was here was when I was 14. My cousin Jenny and I would take the hotel shuttle down to this area, where we spent many hours shopping at Gap, which was something I did not have in North Dakota. The square looks the same but back then it seemed so amazing with possibility.

Inside Quincy Market.

Interviews across America

I'm back in Iowa, after a tour around the states: Portland, Chicago, Minneapolis, Southern Minnesota, New Orleans, Seattle, Tacoma... looking for jobs and visiting family and friends.

It feels good to be home. Resting while looking toward the fields. Nary a car, just a big broad sky. Riding bicycles along the bike paths through the countryside and campus. I haven't rested for a long time. This long stretch of busyness started back when I found out that my job was over while still in Germany, and has persisted until now. I'm hoping to have some time to relax finally.

In the last month, I've been to a few job interviews. One with an ophthalmologist who never washed his hands once in about twenty patients (including an intraocular injection) and told his patient that her diabetes was "from God". Another was an optical shoppe where they had no medical equipment on hand, saying they were mostly retail side, and basically referred everything disease-related out. I visited a run-down VA hospital, with greyed walls and patients devoid of happiness, and filled with windowless rooms containing run-down equipment. There were a couple places which were delightful: one who I only visited in hopes of creating contact for a future job, and another which was a small clinic with only one ophthalmologist and one optometrist on staff. Only time will tell where I go. I am patient.

New Orleans

Carrie and Celeste in front of the artist market we walked to in the 90 degree heat.

Frenchmen street is where to find all the good music. Recommended by several local people, over and over.

When god is smiling down...

On Frenchmen Street.

Smoky Mary was the best draft beer we tried.

French style live music. 

A sign of a good town is a good bike shop.

At the end of Frenchmen Street. All the music was free, for the most part.

Two big white horses.

The man on the right. Look.

Celeste at Mexican food, which was tasty as.

A PDX-style coffee bar.

Beignet. 

At Cafe Du Monde.

The French Market.

Cycling Iowa with a 1979er

The last two weeks, I've spent reorienting myself with the U.S. and my family in rural Iowa, which is reminiscent of Germany and North Dakota in its quietude and simple beauty. Riding through the sherbet-lit landscape, I pump and glide and feel alive, yet in an alternate universe. Transitioning is as strange as travel itself- waking up unsure of surroundings and not knowing what's next. Anxiety rears its head, but I calm it down by hopping on my wheels and breathing deeply.

I make lists and check things off. Search the internet for jobs, not finding much out there, expanding my searches to more and more states, at the same time thankful for this time with my family and friends. I've barely written since returning, not for lack of thoughts, but mostly to allow myself some time to settle.

Riding the Bicycle Trail

Location: North Liberty & Coralville, IA (semi-suburbs of Iowa City)

In case you're thinking of cycling like a bat out of hell...

All I can figure is Iowa must have extra 20MPH speed limit signs sitting around, because they don't mark the trails (or roads) properly otherwise (so you lose the bike trail all the time at T-intersections). Iowa is a bit speed camera crazy, so next time out, I'm gonna see if they speed camera cyclists too. I wouldn't be surprised.

The bicycle is at least as old as my sister Carrie. That makes me happy.

I found this on Craig's List and didn't notice until I was riding around that it was a "World Tourist" which makes me like her even better.

I've never owned a Schwinn before. It's kind of fun. And I like recycling by buying used things.

Just off the bicycle trail. Every night here the sky enchants before it blacks for the night.