People Gotta Move! [ 2004-02-06, 7:25 a.m. ]

Allrighty, here goes the tale of the move. Please bear with me as I am typing this directly on S.'s mac and am not completely familiar with it.

~~~

Moving day itself was a hellacious experience for all concerned. My bro, rock star and Lady K. helped carry all my worldly goods down three flights of stairs which grew progressively icier as the long day wore on. I was completely out of it that day -- the stress of the weeks leading up to the move culminated in some kind of anxiety/panic attack and if it weren't for Lady K's reassurances that we would get it all done, I probably would have just layed down on the floor and cried. Adding to the festivities was the near explosion of my gas space heater, which singed the hair off of one of my cats. Big fun all around.

~~~

After packing the truck and pulling away from Marshfield Island for the last time (at around 8pm) , we drove out to my mom's. My mom started crying as soon as she saw me... and the next morning we had a very hard and tearful goodbye. Then the bro and I drove over to my sister's house to get her and my 8-year-old nephew. The nevvie got to ride in the truck with his uncle, which left me, my sister and two very pissed-off cats in the car.

~~~

For lunch the first day, we stopped at a Cracker Barrel. This was my first CB experience and the last, unless I sell my soul to Satan. When we went in, I had this bizarre conversation with the hostess:

Me: Where is the restroom?

Hostess: You mean you've never been in a Cracker Barrel before?

Me: (confused) No....

Hostess: Well hon, the restrooms are always under the traffic light in the gift store! Welcome to Cracker Barrel!!

Should I be cruel and write about the mostly morbidly obese crowd there? The hairdos? The general feeling of eating in some kind of upscale trailer park mess hall? Perhaps I shouldn't.

~~~

My nephew spent the trip collecting state maps at rest areas and eating as much beef jerky as he could. We had walkie-talkies so he would occasionally call back to the car to talk to his mom, or play the alphabet game or travel bingo with one of us. He was a complete trouper over two long days of driving. I was impressed.

The first night, we stayed in Joplin, Mo. After a quick swim in the motel pool to get rid of what my sister and I like to call "car ass", we wandered across the street and I introduced my family to the fine establishment that is the Waffle House. I was chatting with one of the waitresses and noticed a pad of job applications on the counter. I really wanted to take one but didn't. Why, you ask? Because there were basically three pieces of info. they wanted: Your name/address, the shift you wanted to work, and whether you had worked at a Waffle House before. Waffle House waitresses are a tough breed. The same crew was working when I went in the next morning to get coffee for the road -- one of them told me they routinely work 10-hour shifts.

~~~

I amused myself during the long car rides by looking for odd signage. My favorite was for a fried chicken restaurant that featured a cartoon chicken wearing a cowboy hat, happily holding up the frying pan that would be his ultimate resting place. I saw a similar sign on the way to Tennessee last summer and found it equally hilarious because I am...all together now...easily amused. Second favorite was a huge sign advertising a place that sold "Amish Furniture and Fireworks". We also saw a lot of signs for the "Feed Lot" restaurant - er, no thanks - and saw about fifty huge billboards reading "WWW.UGOTJESUS.COM!!!". Comforting.

~~~

More later.

thisaway - thataway

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