Yard Sale

The 31st, ready to move, clean and empty apartment. I wish it were that simple. I spent most of today opening and sorting all the boxes we've taped up for the move. Reason: we're having a yard sale to thin out the ranks of our belongings. I'm crazy Eddie and ready to make a deal! Sure. If the weather holds out, we'll be peddling our most important possessions this weekend, banking on church traffic and pack rats so intent on hording what they can before the apocalypse, they rifle through other people's waste in efforts to collect. Can't wait.

I mentioned before the clean and empty apartment; we finished this morning. We vacuumed and washed the final floor after a restless night sleeping on a cheap futon mattress through a thunderstorm. We packed up the cars and I, at least, said farewell to the apartment. Amber will complete the deal with a landlord walk-through this evening, and that's it. Where we lived for five and a half years is now closed. Keys returned. Locked.

We created fond memories at the Bancroft, yet retrospective thoughts cannot surpass the confusing and often troubling times we lived through in Westfield. Frank's interpretive dance in the laundry room while wearing a woman's bathing suit; the guy that wanted to know if I would sell him our cat; the other guy that didn't worry about it. That was a weird place, but it served us well and taught us to keep to ourselves in an apartment complex. A very important lesson.

One more sunrise

We're one day from leaving our apartment of five years. It's empty. Just sun-faded wood floors and Spackle-spotted walls. It's full of echoes and ghosts.

The move has been going well; we enlisted the help of parents and their larger vehicles to take the bulk of our belongings, and without them, we would be drifting slowly up a creek, paddle packed in some box. There's that last minute stress, however. Not wanting to forget a thing, or miss a payment, or screw this up one last time.

As I've posted, we've solidified some parts of our trip and are truly looking forward to some of the sights along the way. But leaving will be difficult. I don't want to pine about missing Christmas with the family for the first time, or missing birthdays of little kids, or other, sentimental moments, yet I cannot escape these mawkish concerns.

We set off in a few days for the sunset and hope all will turn out well.

A leg up

We've planned out the first few legs of our trip and day one and two look like quite the bore. From home we'll hit Ohio. Oh me, oh my-o; oh why Ohio! I can't honestly say I'm excited about the Buckeye State even though "Hang on Sloopy" is the state's official rock song, although it does have a slightly playful chorus: "Hang on Sloopy; Sloopy, hang on". The distance between here and there is a void of Northeastern US doldrum capped by a destination made famous by Drew Carey, set in Cleveland, and Alex P. Keaton, set in suburban Columbus. I mean, Ohio, freakin' Ohio.

Once we depart from Ohio, we drive an entire day to Nebraska through Indiana, Illinois, and Iowa. At least we get the "I" states out of the way in one painful stretch of sanity versus distance. Indiana, publisher of The Saturday Evening Post, lacks any real draw. It conjures images of stereotypical leprechauns screaming, "Go Irish!" while losing a football game by more points than there are players on the field and French licking Larry Bird's pasty legs, but means little more to me than an atrophied football dynasty and a washed up three-point shooter. Illinois, on the same hand, interests me nearly as much as a day long lecture on the fiduciary contract between facilitator and subject. Sure, it's home to Chicago and Peoria, but, eh, who cares. Honestly, the state of Illinois has sanctioned the square dance as its official dance. What the hell. It's square dancing, a monotonous exercise in dressing up in tassels and skirting around a plywood floor shellacked in peanut shells (actually a legume, not a pea or a nut) and vomit. Yee-haw. Finally, we enter Iowa, home of the hawkeyes and what else? I don't know, maybe it's cool that the only state beginning with two vowels houses a national balloon museum and the birthplace of "Duke" (John Wayne). Whatever.
At the end of that second day we reach Nebraska and get to finally enjoy ourselves and spend time with close friends and their family. We're both looking forward to this brief stay and respite from a long road. The trip picks up from here.

I won't be as detailed or as scathing with the rest of the trip; your imagination can fill in the blanks. Basically, we will head northwest and swing through the Badlands National Park and on to Mount Rushmore. If time allows, we stop into the internationally known Wall Drug and by some wall drugs. Then, after gazing adoringly into the disappointed faces of our forefathers, we'll drive west, forever west, into Yellowstone and Craters of the Moon National Parks. Yea, we're outdoorsy. After that brief brush with natural beauty, it's off to Portland. We'll have to split the travel into two days, but it's safer on strange roads in the middle of Idaho. I don't need a potato lodged somewhere I can feel but can't see. Idahoans are strange folk.

Moving Day: Take One

On Saturday morning, the same Saturday that unleashed some more unbearable heat and a wonderful lightning exhibit, we began moving some of the larger furniture out of our apartment. We had the help of a gracious father-in-law and his handy trailer. Without him or his fancy Camp-out, there is no way either one of us could have made as much progress as we did. Consequently, the apartment looks barren and bereft of life; walls are empty, bookcases gone, random elements of our past five years strewn about the few rooms we've lived in for so long.

It's a bizarre feeling.

Time is coming to a close a lot faster than I had expected and the forty-some-odd hour drive becomes more real with every box that's taped up. There's little left but odds and ends.

Dog Days

It's in the low 90's here in Westfield, with the opportunity for the temperature to keep rising. The dew point and water vapor content in the air make it feel like the mid 90's, and it feels miserable. I have never been one to appreciate summer weather; I have never felt myself when the air is too saturated to evaporate the sweat my body creates while simply sitting still and I never will.

However, in Oregon at the moment, it is 60 degrees with a high of 75 scheduled. The middle of July and it's supposed to be 75. The highest predicted temperature for the week is 83, which is a tab bit more welcome than this face-melting heat. Chalk one up for the Pacific Northwest.

It's too hot for me, too, Herr Toht.

Home Sweet Home?

Things seem to be basking in a more positive light; lodgings are nearly secure; placements are nearly contracted. This might work out after all. Except, I need a job. Of course, it would be ideal if we could all follow those personal creative pursuits that make us individuals, like some Star-Trek inspired utopia, but realism dictates we must work.

So far, this is my greatest concern and origin of my greatest anxiety. I have worked since I the age of sixteen, and though I find it difficult to admit, I cannot sit in an apartment by myself all day. I've done it for six weeks and I have run out of excuses.

There seem to be several interesting places in Portland that could offer employment; Nike, Dark Horse Comics, various publishing companies and book stores to list a short few. I have my fingers crossed and my resume flying at the speed of a cable modem, so we'll see.

Some of what I half knew about our new home

Portland was almost named Boston. City founders Asa Lovejoy, who hailed from Boston, Mass., and Francis Pettygrove, of Portland, Maine, were each determined to name the new city after their respective hometowns. Unable to settle the argument, they decided to flip a coin, now known as the "Portland Penny" and on display at the Oregon Historical Society. Pettygrove won on two out of three tosses.

Many of the characters in The Simpsons are named after streets and locations in Portland, Simpsons' creator Matt Groening's hometown.

The Portland Police Department hired the nation's first policewoman, Lola Baldwin, in 1908.
Portland is home to Voodoo Doughnut, a 24-hour doughnut shop that offers — in addition to a crazy selection of doughnuts — legal wedding ceremonies.

The Portland Saturday Market is the largest continuously operating open-air crafts market in the United States.

Powell's City of Books, occupying an entire city block, is the world's largest independent bookstore.

The Port of Portland is the largest wheat export port in the United States.

The Portland Rose Festival's Junior Parade is the largest children's parade in America.

Portlandia is the second-largest hammered-copper statue in the United States (the Statue of Liberty is the first).

Portland's International Rose Test Garden is the oldest in the nation.

More Asian elephants (27 to date) have been born in Portland than in any other North American city.

Portland is the beer capital of the world, with 32 breweries inside the city's limits — that's more than any other city in the world. If you count the entire metro area, the number jumps to 38.

Portland is home to the world's smallest dedicated park: Mill Ends Park, a mere 24 inches (61 centimeters) across. There are 37,000 acres (14,973 hectares) of parks in the Portland metro area.

Portland's nicknames include "Rose City," "City of Bridges," "Beervana," and "Rip City."

The Oregon Brewers Festival, held on Portland's waterfront, is the largest gathering of independent brewers in North America.

The city of Portland was officially incorporated on February 8, 1851.

There is no sales tax in Oregon.

Oregon is one of just two states in which residents — and visitors — enjoy the luxury of always having their gas pumped for them. It's the law!

An opening statement

Most everyone we know already knows we're heading off to Portland, a journey that will push us 3,052 miles west, a drive that will last 45 hours in a Japanese hatchback. We'll surge westward in August and leave behind family and many friends; the next few weeks will be difficult good-byes and anxious anticipation.

We hope to post the important moments of our Oregon Trail as we prepare, pack up, and push off.

Hopefully avoiding dysentery, we'll make it to Portland and open our home to visiting friends and family.