Walking in Memphis

I’m not sure where to begin. Two days is a long time in my weird life. I’ve officially lost track of the day, the state – not only of the country but also the state of my hair. I’ve stopped worrying if I have mustard on my pants. I’ve stopped wearing makeup. I’m slowly becoming a trucker. This lifestyle would eventually get to me I think. I like feeling clean… at least a little bit.
Yesterday I started out in Memphis – with a Starbucks’ coffee and a whole town of kitch. I had the best time cruising the streets of the city that the greats of soul and rock roamed. Unfortunately, America has an uncanny ability to turn everything into a phony show. Just when you think you’re somewhere, you realize it’s an illusion. Despite that realization that everything I saw and touched was created to sell me a dream, I drank beer and ate BBQ pork in a little bar called Blues Boogie Café. It took a few hours before I was okay to hit the road again – on to Kansas City.
I drove and drove and drove and drove. Finally, grumpy and hot, I pulled off the interstate and discovered the second thing America does well. She conceals her beautiful secrets from the masses by erecting massive concrete planets of speeding vehicles. Behind these monuments of speed and efficiency, I discovered the most incredible country scenes. I was amazed at my own amazement. Who knew I, self proclaimed left wing socialist, could love America? But I do. It’s an incredible country. Barry White and I drove through town after town along rolling Missouri hills and vast, plush corn fields. We were seeking the winery we’d seen advertised from the I60 – but soon could care less.
Finally, I could no longer take the mournful sight of the swampy Mississippi river winding around me, the quaint iron bridges that embraced her nor the inviting front porches with rocking chairs that overlooked her. I had to be in the scene. I pulled off the road at a road side picnic table in the middle of nowhere. There I spent an hour in holy communion with my guitar in the vast sanctuary of endless countryside. It was perfect. I was Leonard Cohen, I was Neil Young, I was perfectly content and free from the demon interstate.
Unfortunately the interstate is a means to another end. And so, today is testimony to my own hypocrisy. I spent an entire day today on the I35. I just pulled into Minneapolis around 12am. It was an uneventful day but I am sat right now in the window seat of my motel room that overlooks the one edifice that single handedly embodies American ideology and worship -WalMart, sipping my $8 raven’s wood zinfandel (I know! $8! What a steal from the local Target). Surprisingly this WalMart is not 24hours, so the scene is somewhat barbaric. However, I’m dealing with it in stride. Good thing I don’t suddenly need something I can’t wait to get in the morning.
Tomorrow is dedicated to zero progression. I’m going to read, wander, maybe, maybe head to Duluth along Lake Superior. Whatever I do, I plan to enjoy sweet, sweet life and freedom. I need to have a Sabbath after all this. I need to get some perspective. Despite a week of nothing, I’ve spent surprisingly little time in prayer and reflection. I have a sneaking suspicion that could be what I’m meant to do.

Dark roast and lamp posts

It was perfect.
The heat, the music, the smell, the people...
There's a lot of reasons why this road trip is sketchy, none the least of which is Mr. Barry White who might break down at any moment, but it's all more than worth the risk.
I accidentally backed into a lamppost today...I'm hoping no one noticed. The street was full of people from whom I quickly sped away. It would have been embarrassing if I thought anyone would ever find out. That's the beauty of anonymity.
Tomorrow is Memphis and then continue north along the Mississippi.
Can't wait.

Me and Barry

So I picked up the new man in my life on the side of the road today. ( I have a feeling this is some kind of foreshadowing for how our relationship might end. )
Barry White is a '94 chevy cube van that I will be spending the next week with. He is smelly and shakes a lot when he's going over 45m/h. It was a startling change to leave my sleek convertible with a/c for this bizarre artifact from another civilization. But it was worth it. He makes me laugh and listen to fuzzy country music over the tinny radio. In fact I get a sweet calf workout just pushing the peddles.
Today before I left Pensacola I took a quick detour to the beach. I spent a solid two hours basking in perfection and hot, wet sun. It was unreal. The Gulf of Mexico is surrounded by miles and miles and miles of flawless white sand beaches. In fact I'm bringing tiny pieces of that beach right into bed with me. Sand is stuck everywhere. I stayed clear of the interstates today and enjoyed the hilarious scenes that finds you on back roads in southern united states. Mansions with stables beside trailerparks. What do they all have in common? American flags. I felt like I was driving back in time...plantation owners and cotton pickers all still living side-by-side.
I finally came to highway 90 and it took me nearly 80miles before I put road construction and more road construction together. There are remnants of that hurricane everywhere. It's scary. Driving into new orleans is like driving into a fake model version of america made in china. Everything new and exactly the same. But no proper trees.
I crossed three borders today and finally arrived in New Orleans about an hour ago. I was warned to stay clear of this place, so don't tell my mom.
Accents are awesome even when everyone refers to you as "mam"
Peaches taste like something when you purchase them from roadside stands in Alabama.
I'm pooped and sleeping until I get kicked out of this deliciously cold room.

Florida Turnpike

The air licked my face with his wet tongue the second I stepped out of the airport.
Relief enveloped me as quickly as his sticky sweat on my skin. It is indeed hot in Florida.
I reluctantly coughed up the $93 that had somehow grown substantially from the $48 I’d been quoted yesterday, and walked over to my very own blue 2008 sebring convertible. What better way to experience true American culture than by cruising down the Florida Turnpike in the hot sun singing at the top of your lungs to rock and roll the blares shamelessly over the radio. And I didn’t hold back. When people drove by and slowed down, I sang louder, even danced. It was perfect. Even when it started raining. I just drove faster and the whole storm raged on above my naked head. Even when I got home and realized a comb will never fit through my hair again. Despite an entire night on a plane and in an airport preceding this adventure – I was nearly wishing my 7 hour road trip from Orlando to Pensacola to be longer. Now that I’m out of the persisting heat (at nearly 11pm) and into a lovely air conditioned room with a massive kind sized bed, the idea of sleeping diagonally to see if I can use up the entire bed is most appealing.
Tomorrow I pick up my cube van and head to New Orleans. I think first thing, though – the beach. The radio says there is a hurricane warning for the whole gulf of mexico. I better get down there before the party stops.

Adventure begins...

So, I've got my guitar, some gitch and an open highway.
I'm sitting right now in the Calgary airport. I've been here several times before - every time as a portal to another mystery or adventure. Today, the greatest to date. In about ten hours I will be in Orlando Florida where my shiny red convertible awaits. From there I get to drive along the Gulf of Mexico, hair blowing in the wind.
It gets less glamorous and more comical at this point as I pick up the cube van I will be driving home.
I'm thinking first stop is New Orleans... Memphis...Chicago...and we'll see from there. Of course if I get discovered in Memphis then I may never come home.
My future is as naked as the tarmac outside this window. It could be clothed in almost anything.

Did you know..

puppies pee every ten minutes?
I just found that out.
I have pee soaked everything to prove it. I guess that's why God made them cute. So we wouldn't mind.

Cigarettes and wine

There comes a point in a girl's construction career when she's entitled to cigarettes, despite the pictures and the gruesome warnings.
I cannot believe that I decided to redo my house. Have I even met myself before? Useless is an understatement.
To my credit, I'm trying to avoid my female stereotypes... that's all I've got.