California or bust: August 2009 Archives

Ok, so it's not tomorrow. Sue me. I'll stop making promises like that however. Now that I'm on Facebook I can't promise anyone anything.

So Dad got his waffle and I ate the last Star Crunch out of a cooler of melted ice before we headed out that Sunday morning. This was to be our last long day of driving and we were going through Arizona. This excited me. I'd never been to Arizona in my life. Bali Ree drove Dad's car with him in the passenger seat navigating (no doubt), and I drove my car with Deanna. We opened Dipper's cage again to give her a sense of freedom but she stayed in her carrier, often curled up in the very back. The car was packed so tight, Deanna was practically sitting on her laptop with the open cage door at her elbow, but she managed to fall asleep more than once on that drive despite it all.

We could almost see Arizona from Gallup. When Bali Ree and I came in the night before, we were sure we were seeing Arizona from there... in the sky. There was the strangest layer of red-orange over the horizon and it was wavy like sand dunes. Bali Ree at first thought it was smog from somewhere but I knew it was dust. And as we drove into Arizona we started to see it form again in the distance as a big red cloud. I guess only after the daytime heating does it lift high enough into the atmosphere to compress into wavy layers. I was ready to see this happen again.

Deanna's eyes were wide open for any sign of a tourist attraction. There were all kinds of opportunities--very kitchy stuff like "World's longest map of Route 66." It was painted on a wall outside a gift shop. Everything was in bright colors, fully anticipated by rows and rows of billboards on both sides of I-40. Deanna wanted to stop everywhere, and called Dad on my radio more than once to get an OK. Dad wanted to stop nowhere except for the Petrified Forest.

So we stopped at the entrance to the Petrified Forest but didn't take the $10 drive-through tour. Not enough time. So we got out at the Painted Desert Visitor's Center and looked through the gift shops. I bought a shirt and some postcards, and mailed one to my mom right there from their mailbox.

It wasn't until we were walking back to the cars that I noticed the wall of the visitor's center and the lettering on it. Back in the '70s my dad's parents had taken my cousin Steve to the Grand Canyon, and they took his picture underneath the lettering on that wall. It hadn't changed at all. So Deanna suggested we get our picture taken under the sign and send it to Steve. We did, and we were off again, this time to Flagstaff.

Most people would probably find a drive like this through flat red dirt pretty uninteresting, but I thought it was great. I was driving and Deanna was sleeping so I took no pictures (unfortunately), but it was desert and I've always been fascinated with desert. It was red and dusty and after driving for some time we came upon the exact area where the dust storm was brewing. It was a bit like a red fog, although the visibility wasn't bad at all. And then suddenly it was over. The sky was blue. We had driven through it. I wondered who might be driving through Gallup later that night looking at the wavy red lines in the sky, wondering where it came from. I knew where it came from. Haha.

As we approached Flagstaff the whole landscape changed. I started thinking I was in Arkansas. It was green and hilly and covered with pine trees. We stopped for lunch at McDonald's and cracked the windows for the cat. I ate quickly and then went back to turn the A/C on. It wasn't that hot up there but it was hot enough that you wouldn't want to leave a kid or a cat in the car too long. Then we started off again, down the hills and back into the desert. We continued to talk on the radio with Dad in the other car, contemplating what kind of animal their highway signs were telling us to look out for. Bali Ree and I had had the same problem in New Mexico the day before. We saw plenty of deer crossing signs, but then suddenly we started seeing signs for what looked like a fat cow with antlers. We figured it was probably elk, but fat antler cows sounded much more interesting. This time the fat antler cows were less fat and turned at an angle so you didn't know if the silhouette was coming toward you or running away from you. But either way, you were supposed to watch out for them. Whatever they were. We never saw one.

We came back down from the hills into a much blander part of the desert. It was a pretty straight shot to California after that. We crossed a river and soon after, we were there. And we were being stopped.

I thought I had crossed the border or something. There was a big inspection station, almost like a toll plaza, and every vehicle was being stopped and inspected. Every one. I didn't know whether to panic or write my congressman. I remembered some rumors I had heard about fines for bringing plants into California, and there were three philodendrons in a box behind my seat. I had also been told it only applied to agricultural plants. I was about to find out for sure.

"Where are you coming from?" said the nice inspector lady.

"Oklahoma City." There I was with Texas plates, a Texas inspection sticker on the window, having lived in Texas for the last 20+ years and having spent only one week in Oklahoma. And I said Oklahoma City. Go figure.

She didn't flinch. "Do you have any fruit or vegetable products with you?"

"No, but I have a philodendron behind my seat, you're welcome to it!" I had forgotten about the cantaloupe in the cooler until much later, but I don't think that's what she meant anyway.

"Indoor or outdoor?"

"Strictly indoor."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" She opened the door and dug through the box. "Usually if they're indoor they're fine, we just have to make sure they don't have any bugs that are going to RUIN CALIFORNIA or anything..." Then she put the vines back in the box and closed the door. "What kind of animal do you have?"

"Cat."

"Have a nice day!"

And that was my introduction to California. I got on the radio to Dad and said, "That was WEIRD."

"Why?"

"If I'd known I'd be going through customs I would have renewed my passport!"

After that, things changed immediately and drastically. The highway became a cruel and violent place. There were trucks, there were cars, and they were all fighting for control. There was a climbing lane on the right and most of the trucks were in it. I was in the middle, the race cars were on the left, some going as fast as 100 mph. Then suddenly one of those trucks on the right would cut in front of me and go 40 to pass another truck in the climbing lane. I did not handle this well. And I couldn't pass him because I couldn't ramp up from 40 to 100 fast enough to not die in the left lane. So I stuck it out until he moved.

It happened again and again and again. Dad finally got on the radio and asked where I was (Bali Ree, by this time, was much more about the destination than the journey and was way ahead). I told him I kept getting cut off by these trucks. He told me to hang in there and explained that even though there's a solid white line to my right, the trucks can legally cross it to pass each other. Well thanks for finally telling me that. At least now I could expect to be cut off.

The scenery by this time was just bizarre. There were practically no exits off this highway. You could climb for miles and miles and then see this huge expanse of unpopulated brown desert stretched out in front of you, mountainous on both sides. But the weirdest part was the ground itself--it was like everything was built on a huge slant. It messed with your sense of equilibrium. I was convinced we were going to slide off into Mexico.

And then suddenly it all came to a halt. We were stopped dead. I looked at the thermometer and it said 108. We moved a few inches and stopped again. 109. A few more inches. 108. This went on for an hour, and watching the temperature change was truly our only entertainment. We finally approached a bridge that was down to one narrow lane and then once we passed it, the race started again. But now we were contenders. Bali Ree was taking medication that required her to constantly drink water and she needed a bathroom bad. There were still no exits. I think it was another 30 minutes before we finally found the only stop in 100 miles (or at least it felt like it). It was a Dairy Queen. And EVERYONE IN CALIFORNIA was there.

Time for bed. Stay tuned!

I have to admit, I really wanted to write this entry before now, long before. I wrote the first entry from the motel in Bakersfield, CA, which was the only motel we stayed in that had internet access. The next day I was in Foster City at my new apartment, and it all got crazy again (and still is). So now I'll try to fill in the blanks and hope that I remember it all.

We got to my dad's in OKC at about 10:30 that night, Monday, 8/3. The cat only said one word to me on the whole drive up there, which was, "Me?" I took that to mean, "We're not going to the vet this time, are we?" That was about the time her tranquilizers should have worn off so I thought she would start talking up a storm like she does on our drives to the vet. She never said another word. Not for a very, very long time.

We brought her into a house that belonged to another cat, one that does not get along nicely with other cats and barely with people. The plan was this: Lock Sugar (Dad's cat) in one bedroom while we snuck Dipper (my cat) into my bedroom and shut the door, where she would stay for the week while Sugar spent most of her days outside and her nights roaming freely about her house. Easy enough. We brought in the litter box, her food and a couple of toys. We set the carrier down on the floor and opened the door. She peeked out, sniffed a bit, and went right under the bed, where she stayed for just about the next week. She didn't use her litter box for another 24 hours. She didn't eat. She didn't even wake me up in the morning for her wet food. She smelled that other cat but they never saw each other, and she heard strange noises in a strange house where the only safe place was under the bed next to the wall. I couldn't get her to drink either, so I had Dad drain the water out of a tuna can for her. I put it under the bed and she lapped it up. But I still worried about her until the next day when she finally peed again. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a cat pee. I had to ask myself what my life was coming to. I also decided that I wasn't going to give her tranquilizers again and we would just see how the drive to CA went without them.

As long as she felt safe under that bed, I felt pretty free to roam the house myself. I did some work on the web site, I saw some family I hardly ever get to see, I got new tires. For the first couple of days I would go in every once in a while and lie down next to the bed and talk to her as if everything was normal. She would wag her tail and roll over on her side, and if I could reach her, she would let me pet her. She would eat a little if I put it under the bed but no way was she coming out... that is, until about the third night. She figured out that things got really quiet at night and that there might be something outside that bedroom door that needed her attention. So she started wanting to follow me out of the room late at night when I had to go to the bathroom. If she had ever seen Sugar she probably would have changed her mind but luckily for everyone involved, that never happened. By the time we left she was pretty comfortable in her room, she had gotten used to a lot of the noises of the house and she was starting to eat a little more regularly, except she still wasn't waking me up in the morning. I had to set my alarm to keep her on a schedule. She was even starting to spend more time on the bed than under it. And then we disrupted her life again and took her to California.

But while all this was going on, the humans in the house were dealing with their own complications. Over the course of that week Dad studied his road atlas and planned a route. I had to have my lease and first month's rent there on 8/10. The movers wouldn't be there until the morning of 8/11. However, since the movers would be there long before the apartment office opened, we still had to get there in enough time on 8/10 to do the walk-through and get the keys. We even FedExed the lease and rent just in case we were delayed on the trip. It all sounded reasonable except for one thing: Dad insisted that my sister come with us. The problem was, Deanna had a leadership retreat she was required to attend (college stuff) and it didn't end until 4:30 on Saturday. So somehow we had to figure out how to start in OKC at about 6 on Saturday (when Deanna finally got home and got her stuff together) and get to the Bay Area early enough on Monday to take care of business. We were looking at probably 30 total hours of driving and driving most of the night on Saturday to start with. I had only one thing to say to that. HELL NO.

HELL NO was I risking my life driving all night so she could come with us. Sure, I would LOVE for her to come with us. But was it worth risking our safety on the road? No. And after the last two months of my life and as exhausted as I was, I knew I physically wouldn't be able to do that. No way was I driving all night. No freakin' way. No way.

So Dad's plan became this: I start out with my stepmom Saturday morning and we drive to Gallup, NM. Dad waits for Deanna to get home and then they start out, probably arriving at 2 or 3 in the morning. I knew I could do that but I wasn't sure they could. But Dad thought he could take naps during the day and then be able to drive. He had certainly lived worse schedules in his firefighting days. So I decided that while I thought it was STUPID to take a risk like that, who was I to tell someone else what their limitations were. If he really thought he could do it, let him do it. He wouldn't risk Deanna's life anyway if he thought he couldn't make it. So that was the plan, and that's what we did. But as usual, all estimates were wrong. When we were just getting into Albuquerque, he was texting us telling us that they were finally leaving OKC. That was about 7pm their time. Bali Ree (my stepmom) said they probably wouldn't get to Gallup until 6am. I thought about 3 or 4. Still, I was glad it wasn't me.

Bali Ree and I started out at about 9am on Saturday. We stopped in Amarillo to see my great aunt and uncle who are both 93 years old and who I rarely get to see. We spent about 30 minutes with them with the cat in the carrier just inside the front door. They thought we were tackling a lot going all the way to Gallup that day but we did fine -- it took 12 hours before it was all over but we started early enough that it wasn't that big a deal. It was actually a very enjoyable drive, and I found out that I like my stepmom a lot more when she's not around my dad. Dipper got used to hearing her voice in the car and by the time we got to the motel that night, she would actually come up and sniff her hand. Believe me, as skiddish as this cat has become in the last year or so, that was big.

I didn't give Dipper any drugs this time and she did fine. She never said a word. We even opened the door to her carrier so she would feel a little less confined, even though she didn't step out. She also didn't eat or use her box, but I knew she was stressed so I didn't worry too much. At least there were no drugs in her system to shut things down again. The only real problem we had was when we got to the motel in Gallup, which we chose specifically because it said pets were allowed. We walked in at 9pm ready to check in, only to find signs throughout the lobby saying, "No pets allowed." We didn't say anything. We just got our keys (we each had a room, I would share mine with Deanna) and went around to the back of the motel. Luckily the doors were on the outside of the building so it was relatively easy to sneak her in. But we also had to unload everything out of my car. I had boxes, cat litter, a feeder, A CAT, luggage, my laptop... we moved fast and hid the carrier under a blanket until we got her into my room. When we let her out, she headed for underneath the bed and found she couldn't get there because it was on a platform (thank God, or we would have never gotten her back out). We had also stuffed extra pillows in any holes she could squeeze through to get between the bed and the wall. So she would hide between the platform and the bed skirt and form a little lump along the edge of the bed. Well, as long as she was happy.

I, however, was PISSED. I had told Dad, just make reservations at the La Quinta. They always allow pets and they don't charge extra for them. But no, we had to go to a Choice motel (Comfort Inn, Sleep Inn, Quality Inn, etc). You know why? Waffles. Their free continental breakfast includes waffles you can make yourself. So here we were, sneaking in a cat under a blanket so my dad could make his own waffle. Just shoot me. Better yet... never mind. I told Bali Ree about the La Quinta. She said that if she had known I had had that conversation with him, she would have insisted we go there instead. Yeah, I mentioned it to him at least three times... lesson learned. Next time, tell someone who can actually get through to the guy. I suspect she has her ways. Waffles. Good grief.

After we unloaded the car into the room we went next door to Applebee's. Bali Ree ordered a margarita (which I've never seen anyone on that side of the family do, ever) and we finally ate at about 10pm. Gallup was extremely dry, as in no humidity whatsoever. My lips were chapped as soon as we got there and they didn't heal for two weeks. I mean it was DRY. So when I took a shower, I left the bathroom door open to get some steam into the room. And then the cat did something she's never done before. She got up on her front paws on the edge of the tub behind me and howled at me as if to say, "You've been in here long enough and I don't know where I am so COME OUT AND KEEP ME COMPANY!" That was the only thing she said to me on the whole trip.

I went to bed at about 1am and woke up at 4:30 to some noise outside. I figured Dad and Deanna had finally arrived and were unloading the car into Bali Ree's room. I went back to sleep.

At 6:30 my cell phone alarm went off. It was time to feed the cat. Ten minutes later my phone rang. Bali Ree says, "Are you awake?"

"Uh, yeah, just fed the cat, although she's not all that interested."

"They're just pulling in."

"NOW???"

They got there at 6:45. Dad was going to get his waffle and then we were going to get on the road again. And I know Bali Ree was thinking exactly the same thing I was, that two people who had been driving all night were not going to drive anymore today. So we had another 12 hours ahead of us to Bakersfield, CA, and we had to do it ourselves.

Stay tuned for Part 3, coming tomorrow.

There has been so much going on since the move officially began that it's been impossible to post any new entries. I've gone to bed every night so incredibly tired that I would fall asleep sitting straight up with the TV on. I'm close to doing the same now because I drove for 12 hours today (and 12 hours yesterday) but I seem to be getting a second wind. Let's see how long it will last. There is so much to tell I will have to do this in multiple parts and I'm sure I'll only get through one tonight.

The real rush started right after I got back from apartment hunting in California. As soon as I got back I had to plan a yard sale and get rid of everything that wouldn't go in the apartment. All my yard stuff was sold by about 9:30am -- two lawnmowers, a leaf blower, a weed eater, two garden hoses and an outdoor storage locker, not to mention other various gardening tools. The rest went more slowly but I was able to sell most of the big things I couldn't take with me and give away the small ones. I had to sell my refrigerator, washer and dryer, and the day I posted the ad on Craigslist I decided to do my laundry in case it might be the last time. So I posted the ad, got to the third load and the washer QUIT. After 12 years it was suddenly useless -- the basin stopped spinning although it kept making a horrible noise -- I decided $50 or more to fix it wouldn't be worth the $25 I'd probably get for it so I gave it to the Salvation Army along with my dryer. The thing about the dryer though was that it still worked. My mom bought it around 1982 but it still worked. God's little sense of humor I guess. No one was going to buy a 1982 dryer without at least a washer to go with it, that's for sure. So that was that.

You know how once something breaks you think that's probably as bad as it will get? Don't ever think that. The day the Salvation Army was to come over I had to disconnect the washer so they could take it out of the house. I got the cold water hose off just fine but the hot water valve wouldn't turn off. It was in the off position but hot water kept coming out. I had to leave the hose connected or else hot water was going to spew all over the kitchen. So I tried to find a way to turn off the hot water at the heater so they could at least get the washer out of the house. But as it turned out, my lazy landlord who did all the work on the house himself didn't put a valve at the top of the hot water heater so I couldn't turn it off. Which means he didn't install it to code (he also painted the windows shut so it's not like I was surprised). So long story short, the Salvation Army had to come twice: once for everything but the washer, and then back to get the washer after my landlord fixed the valve. And to top things off he couldn't find another hot water valve so he got a cold water one, took my Sharpie and wrote on the wall above them "Hot" and "Cold." Whatever works I guess. Not my problem.

I made over $400 from the sale. At least that turned out the way it should have.

So after that was over I found myself talking to movers and utility companies in between trying to work on the site and earn a living. It was a lot harder than I expected. I needed to get multiple estimates, which meant having at least two different surveyors in my house to tally up all my stuff and guess its weight. One guy was so busy I almost gave up on him until he offered to come at 6am. I said go ahead. So I actually had a surveyor walk through my house at 6am to do an estimate. In the end I didn't even go with that company. I ended up with an affiliate of Atlas, which after this experience I would highly recommend. I've never seen a couch wrapped in blankets, then wrapped in plastic and set on its end in a truck, knowing the whole time that this is better than I will probably ever treat the couch myself, and I not only bought it but paid to have it recovered. But I digress.

The movers told me on a Wednesday that to have me in Foster City the week of 8/10, they needed to have me packed and loaded on Monday 8/3. That Wednesday it became real for the first time. I panicked. I lost two pounds. And over the course of the next week while I got ready I lost two more. I drove to Austin one day to get my hair cut and see some friends for the last time, and then drove back the same night. I spent the weekend before the movers showed up at Lake Bridgeport with 16 of my sorority sisters, which is something we had been planning for six months. And while all this was going on, I was packing and organizing and working and connecting utilities and freaking out. The cat started acting out and hiding my earrings. She got her point across too because I have yet to find one of them.

But the stress only continued to build. The more I dealt with the moving company, the more I learned about what they would NOT take and what they would NOT be responsible for, so the "car" pile of boxes got bigger and bigger. I already knew there would be two cars on the trip but this was getting ridiculous. I was still packing my part the night before the movers showed up (they were to do the real packing) and I didn't even finish before I collapsed and had to go to bed. So while they were packing me the next day and my dad was helping take apart furniture, I was still growing the pile. And growing my stress along with it. Luckily the driver told us that no matter what the forms said, it was really his decision what to take and what not to, and he would go ahead and take most of my art supplies and some other things that the forms clearly stated they would not transport. So the car pile shrunk to an almost manageable size, the movers left, and at the end of the day we finally loaded up our boxes and a tranquilized cat who had spent her entire day hiding in the corner of the bathroom behind the claw foot tub and drove to Oklahoma City, where I was to spend the next week at my dad's while the movers filled the rest of their 53-foot truck with other people's furniture.

And thus begins a whole other journey, which will be continued when I'm conscious again. So stay tuned.