Author Archives: Mark Petruska

About Mark Petruska

I'm a writer/editor and self-published author leaving the Pacific Northwest for a fresh start in Rapid City, South Dakota in 2018.

Faded Past, Bright Future

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One month from today, we’ll be rolling into Rapid City, South Dakota. Barring anything strange and unexpected, like a flat tire in the middle of nowhere or an alien abduction, of course.

How did we get to this point?!

Don’t worry, that’s a rhetorical question. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, and another day fades into history. I get it.

Emotions right now? A little scared, but mostly excited. This is the home stretch – the culmination of months and months of planning. We are now starting to scout out places to live, because Tara’s idea of winging it until we got there seems less like a spontaneous adventure and more like a recipe for disaster the closer we get. We’d really rather have something lined up, or at least a couple of viewings scheduled. That Super 8 Motel won’t be feeling as super after we’ve been there a week, I’m betting. Free maid service or not. So we’re scouting Craigslist, and there are quite a few possibilities. We’re looking at ’em all: apartments, townhouses, duplexes, and houses. It still amazes me how inexpensive things are out there, but then again, that’s what kickstarted this whole idea, isn’t it? Our current plan is to rent for a year while we get settled, square away employment, and figure out what part of town floats our boat the most. The future feels wide open, and we are both eager to dive in.

I recently dug through some old photo albums of my mom’s, from when we lived in South Dakota in the 1980s. Sadly, time has not been good to those pictures; they’re pretty grainy and faded now. Let’s just say I have a newfound appreciation for the digital age. Despite the poor image quality, they are still fun to look at. I thought I’d share a few of them here for posterity.

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Ohio Ave. – Ellsworth AFB

This is a shot of our street from the front yard. Look at all that snow! (I have to warn you – a lot of these photos feature snow. Go figure.) I hardly ever rode the bus to school, as it was only about a mile away; cliche or not, I was one of those kids who actually did walk to school in knee-deep snow drifts. The proof is right here! Sadly, these brick houses on base were torn down years ago, replaced by more modern structures. Can’t say I’m too surprised; they were old and drafty and did little to prevent the cold from seeping inside every winter.

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Jurassic Mark.

Here’s a shot of my me and my brother at Dinosaur Park overlooking Rapid City. This local attraction, located on Skyline Drive, opened in 1936 and is still there to this day, so contrary to popular belief not all dinosaurs have gone extinct. The views from up here are incredible; the vast, sweeping prairie opens up to the east, and on a clear day you can see 100 miles into the distance, including the Badlands. I am hoping when my brother Scott comes to visit we can recreate this photo.

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The family Truckster.

When my dad was assigned to Ellsworth AFB in 1983, after spending three years in Hawaii, he knew we needed a car that could handle those punishing South Dakota winters. So he went out and bought an AMC Eagle Wagon. She may not have been pretty, but boy could she handle the snow!

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No asphalt? No problem!

The great thing about visiting National Parks in the offseason is, you have them all to yourself. Especially when there are plowed snowdrifts 8′ deep on the side of the road, as evidenced by this photo taken in the Badlands. This is why the Eagle was the perfect car for us at the time. Sure, we had to plug the engine in to a wall socket on those nights when the temperature dipped below zero, but the car was reliable in all kinds of weather and never got stuck. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for this vehicle – it was the car I learned to drive in, after all.

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Mitchell could double for Moscow.

One of the most unique attractions in South Dakota is the Mitchell Corn Palace. The building dates back to 1892 and is decorated every year in murals made from corn and other grains in a nod to the area’s rich agricultural history. The theme changes each year. The arena is home to concerts, sporting events, and rodeos, and naturally there is a Corn Festival. It doesn’t get any more kitschy than this, folks, but 500,000 tourists a year flock here. I can’t wait to take Tara!

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Pretty sure this was our family Christmas card photo.

This last photo has actually held up pretty well. We visited the Badlands many times during the three years we lived there, and personally I never tired of the stunning rock formations. The great thing is, every time you go, the place looks different. The lighting changes based on the time of day, season, and weather. During my visit there in 2011 on my road trip, I watched a magnificent band of thunderstorms march across the prairie, thunder echoing off the sharp canyon walls. And on the way back to Rapid City, I had to pull over to the side of the interstate during a fierce hailstorm. What a rush! When Tara learned that we had been just a few miles from the Badlands on our trip in October, she wondered again why we didn’t push on. Well, we were running out of time…and I knew we’d be back. Often.

Countdown: 29 Days

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This Looks Familiar

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Six years ago, shortly after Tara moved out here, we took a drive and came across a couple who were stuck in the snow. We helped them out of that jam by enlisting the aid of a guy with a pickup truck and a tow hitch who happened to be camping nearby.

In an odd twist of fate, yesterday Tara and I took a drive and came across a couple who were stuck in the snow. We helped them out by enlisting the aid of a guy with a pickup truck and a tow hitch who happened to be camping nearby.

You know, after just having seen the movie The Endless last weekend, I’m hoping I am not stuck in some weird time loop myself.

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And much like that fateful day back in June 2011, we never did make it to our intended destination. But we came up with a solid Plan B and ended up having a blast anyway. How ironic that this funny thing that happened to us shortly after a big move happened to us again shortly before a big move.

The whole day was sort of unexpected, actually. I’d purchased Paul Simon tickets a few months ago, only to have immediate buyer’s remorse. Nothing against ol’ Paul; I like his music just fine. But you know what I like better? Money. Those tickets weren’t cheap, and we are going to need every cent for the move. So I placed an ad on Craigslist and, after a few tentative nibbles, was able to sell them Friday evening. I actually let them go for $20 less than face value, but I can live with that because it means an extra $150 in my pocket. And the truth is, the thought of dealing with a big arena show at the Moda Center and all that entails – parking, light rail, people – began to sound less appealing the closer the day got. Selling them was a relief in more ways than one

With no concert to plan our day around, we improvised and instead of spending a day in Portland, we decided to drive out to Guler Ice Cave and Trout Lake, both in Washington. Unbeknownst to us, there was still quite a bit of snow on the road at that elevation, and it soon became impassable.

Tell that to the couple in the RAV 4 who were hopelessly stuck.

They were nice though, and while we tried to help them dig out, it wasn’t happening. So we backtracked a bit to a couple we’d seen camping a little ways down the road. When we explained what was going on, the guy chuckled and said, “They’re stuck right past that fallen tree, aren’t they?” Turns out he’d already pulled somebody else to safety in that same spot earlier in the day.

Poor guy probably spent half his day towing people out of the snow. I bet he picks a more secluded camping spot next time.

With the ice cave and Trout Lake inaccessible, we simply turned around and followed the road in the opposite direction. I can’t say we were disappointed with that decision.

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We ended up hiking in the Trapper Creek Wilderness and stopped in Stevenson on the way home for dinner. When we got back we watched I, Tonya, which was fantastically good. Truth is stranger than fiction, that’s for sure.

All in all, it was a very good day. Even if there was an air of familiarity about it.

Countdown: 33 Days

That Voodoo That I Do

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A few weeks ago, we went through the pantry and mentally catalogued what was in there. After finding a random assortment of items – garlic chili paste, barley, a packet of fajita seasoning (to name but a few) – we began to plan dinners around those things in order to use them up. Waste not, want not is something my mom always said!

Actually, I don’t think she has ever uttered those words in her life. She also never told me to clean my plate because there are starving children in Africa and didn’t warn me not to make a face or it would freeze that way, so she missed the boat on stereotypical parenting tropes. But it’s sage advice regardless, so those odds and ends stashed on the back of the shelf turned into Asian lettuce wraps, beef and barley stew, and shrimp fajitas. Mmm, right? I’m thinking we should have cleaned out the pantry a heck of a lot sooner.

With our time here dwindling rapidly, we’re also being very conscientious with what we buy at the grocery store. Think a small bottle of cooking oil vs. a bigger one, for instance, because there is no way we’ll go through 48 ounces in five weeks, you know? I’d rather not haul boxes full of half-used groceries 1,250 miles.

Tara drove up to Tacoma to spend the weekend with her mom on Saturday, which gave me an opportunity to tie up a few loose ends.

Which is really just a fancy way of saying I ate a donut.

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Not just any donut, mind you. Long-time readers will recall my fondness for Voodoo Doughnut. I mean, we even served them at our wedding in lieu of cake. Despite this, I had not been there in years, for a variety of reasons. Namely, sugar. I mostly avoid it these days for health reasons. Also, if I’m being honest, Voodoo doesn’t make the best donut in town. I’m not even sure they’re in the top five. It’s all about the experience, which includes long lines of tourists, off-the-wall flavor combinations, and a few XXX-rated sugary confections.

But the bacon maple bar is really good, and I decided I needed one more in my life before we move.

Mission happily accomplished.

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On Sunday, I loaded Sydney into her carrier for a test run. Results were mixed.

First off, she is a full-time indoor cat. Has been for her entire life, the occasional foray onto the back deck being the lone exception. So the moment I carried her outside, she was uncomfortable. Started meowing on the way down the stairs, and really let loose once we were in the car and started driving.

But she sort of settled down after a bit. These quieter moments were punctuated by periods of not being settled down. All things considered though, the experience wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. I think she will eventually accept the fact that she’s going to be stuck in the car for a while and that cat brain of hers will conclude that complaining about it is useless.

Of course, we might be halfway across Montana before that happens…

Countdown: 38 Days

Lava Junkie

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How ’bout that Hawaiian volcano?!

I think it’s safe to say I’m obsessed with the Kilauea eruption. I have spent more time than I care to admit devouring news stories and scrolling through Instagram photos and video of the lava. Hashtag Leilani Estates is an easy way to kill an hour.

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Anybody who knows me shouldn’t be too terribly surprised by this revelation. I have long been fascinated with natural disasters. Not that I hope for them, of course; but when they do occur, I find it impossible to look away. If this were a jukebox, I’d have Mother Nature’s Greatest Hits on heavy rotation.

Not long ago, I wrote about my experience living in Hawaii. How I mostly hated it, except for the Big Island. I have fond memories of  black sand beaches and jungles and, best of all, hiking the Devastation Trail and Halema’uma’u Crater in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. I might have pocketed a few lava rocks, too; it’s a good thing I’m not (too) superstitious as Hawaiian legend claims that doing so angers the Goddess Pele, and she will retaliate by cursing the thief with misfortune. In fact, many a tourist has sent back a pilfered rock after encountering bad luck upon their return to the mainland. If this all sounds like a wacky sitcom plot, it was; remember that episode of The Brady Bunch where Bobby found an ancient tiki in Hawaii and bad luck started to befall the family? That bad juju was based on the legend of Pele. tiki

Fortunately, I never encountered any bad luck myself. Unless you count barely missing out on seeing an eruption firsthand. In 1983 we were vacationing on the Big Island; the day after we returned to Oahu, Kilauea erupted. My dad was always bummed about this, so I guess my fascination is hereditary.

That wasn’t my only close call with nature’s fury. I’m sort of like the Forrest Gump of natural disasters, having secured a front row seat to many an event. As evidence, I submit the following:

  1. Run like the wind, Toto! During my final summer in Dayton, Ohio, my brother and I spent a week at summer camp. One night, long after lights out, we were awakened by a counselor and ushered from our bunks. We were then marched across a field, through a howling wind, as turbulent clouds raced by overhead. Our destination? A concrete bunker beneath the swimming pool. It turns out a tornado warning had been issued, and funnel clouds were spotted in the vicinity. Luckily, none touched down. I vividly recall huddling nervously in the dead of night, surrounded by bags of chlorine stacked in haphazard piles. Pretty scary night for an 11 year-old!
  2. I spy the eye – no lie! In November 1982, Hurricane Iwa raced across the Pacific and took aim at Hawaii – the first hurricane to strike the islands in 23 years. Guess who had a front row seat to the whole thing? We stayed inside our house on base as winds gusted up to 120 mph and rain pelted Oahu. The worst of the storm occurred in the evening and overnight. I don’t remember ever feeling scared; I was simply in awe. The next morning we emerged to bright sunshine and a lot of damage, mainly downed trees. It was the first and only time living there that school was cancelled due to weather.
  3. Happy birthday – I got you snow! April 27, 1984, was my 15th birthday. Typically I associate my bday with pleasant spring weather, but in South Dakota (ha!) one can never assume. That year, I spent my birthday indoors as heavy snow fell and gusty winds blew. I don’t remember how much snow we ended up with by the time the storm wound down, but it’s safe to say “a lot.” This wasn’t the only blizzard I’ve experienced in my life, but because of the date, it’s the one that stands out the most in my mind.
  4. A whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on! October 17, 1989, was just a normal Tuesday – until the ground started shaking with a vengeance. I was living in the Bay Area, just digging into a plate of spaghetti with my girlfriend at the time, when everything started rocking and rolling. I’d lived in CA for three years by that point and had experienced quite a few quakes, but nothing of that magnitude. And when the TV stations switched from the World Series game to images of citywide devastation – the worst being a collapsed freeway – we knew it was serious. The next week was a surreal blur. My college classes were cancelled and aftershocks kept coming. A few months later I traveled to the epicenter and somewhere, there is a photo of me standing in a fissure in the ground that comes up to my thigh.

Tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, and earthquakes – oh, my. I’m just thankful to have thus far avoided tsunamis, avalanches, wildfires and alien abduction.

Well, the last one is a maybe. But that’s a story for another day.

Countdown: 42 Days

All Her Suicides Are Fake

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One of the best things about this time of year is the early sunrises. I might think otherwise if I ever slept in, but I’m up super early most mornings so it’s a non-issue. Sometimes I’m out walking, like today. The sun was just cresting the eastern horizon on my final circuit through the park, lighting up the clouds in shades of cotton candy pink and fiery orange, and it stopped me in my tracks.

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I’ve only got 45 more PNW sunrises to enjoy, so I’m going to make an effort to see as many of ’em as I can.

Are you familiar with the concept of synchronicity? I’m not talking about the 1983 album by The Police (though “King of Pain” is a great song), but rather, the simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection. Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” is a great example. It is said to sync up perfectly with “The Wizard of Oz.” The band claims it’s purely coincidental, but I’m not so sure. I’ve watched them simultaneously and they really do seem to be interconnected. I’m fascinated by this stuff, because synchronicity seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I notice it all the time.

Most often these episodes are music-related. Like, for instance, I’ll be listening to The White Stripes (“I’m thinking about my doorbell/When ya gonna ring it, when you going to ring it”) and then the doorbell will ring. Things of that nature.

Saturday was an especially synchronicity-heavy day.

At one point I was scrolling through Instagram, and at the exact moment I was looking at a post from a friend named Michelle, the song playing on my phone mentioned a woman named Michelle. Earlier in the day, I was packing, and had just grabbed a Lumineers CD. At the very moment I was putting it in the box, I heard the Lumineers playing from the other room. The crazy thing is, I never listen to CDs anymore. My entire collection is packed away in a plastic tub and buried somewhere in the garage. I happened to have this one and only CD in the bedroom because it was a gift I hadn’t gotten to putting away yet.

But the universe was saving the strangest thing of all for the end of the evening. My parents are in South Africa on that safari, remember? Tara and I went over to their house to borrow their grill and barbecue some baby back ribs. We had already made several trips in and out their front door and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. So imagine my surprise when I opened the door again to grab something from my car and saw – sitting on the welcome mat, in plain sight – a freakin’ animal cracker.

Let that sink in for a moment. MY PARENTS ARE ON AN AFRICAN SAFARI HALF A WORLD AWAY AND THERE IS SUDDENLY AN ANIMAL CRACKER ON THEIR FRONT PORCH THAT WAS NOT THERE BEFORE.

I’m sure of that. The welcome mat is black, the animal cracker was white. I spotted it immediately when I opened the door.

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The mystery animal cracker.

And, though I’m not proud to admit this, I nearly screamed. Because honestly, it freaked me out like nobody’s business. Even Tara, who is far more rational than I am, could offer no logical explanation. In recounting this story earlier, somebody suggested, well, a crow flying by could have dropped it.

Sure. I suppose that’s possible. Or would be if the welcome mat wasn’t located beneath a covered porch.

Another weird coincidence in a long string of them, or something more? I’m not even going to hazard a guess.

I am curious, though: does this sort of thing ever happen to you?

Countdown: 45 Days

What’s Old is New Again

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I have a coworker who just started watching The Office. He may be late to the party, but boy do I envy him right now. Imagine having nine glorious seasons’ worth of new-to-you episodes of a beloved, critically-acclaimed comedy series to watch?

Actually, I can. That happened to me just last year with Curb Your Enthusiasm.

So now this guy is coming into work every morning raving over the latest episode he has just seen, and his unabashed joy is contagious. God, I miss that show.

The only thing that would be even better than jumping into The Office for the first time? Doing that with Breaking Bad.

I can’t even imagine how amazing that would be.

My parents are currently in South Africa. I also really envy them; everybody talks about traveling the world when they retire, but how many people actually do so?

My folks have been to far too many countries to name. This three-week trip is their first on the African continent, and will include not one but two safaris.

Man. They are livin’ the dream.

I kind of hate that they are gone for such a long stretch right before we move away, but I’m sure they had no idea we were actually leaving when they planned the trip.

Or, knowing my dad, he just said “the hell with ’em – we’re seeing zebras!” and signed on the dotted line regardless.

With my parents gone, our weekend will include borrowing their grill and sunroom again. It’s become a tradition.

We’re also going to hit the farmer’s market for the first time this season (shame on us!). Plus, do some more packing. We missed last weekend since we were out having fun, so we’ve got some ground to make up.

One of the trickiest things is going to be transporting Sydney halfway across the country. She has been on very few car rides in her life, and I want to make her as comfortable as possible. After doing some research, I bought the following carrier, which comes highly recommended by many people.

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She looks right at home, huh? Acclimation is key. We are leaving the carrier out in the living room, and she frequently makes herself right at home in there.

I think we are going to start taking her on short car rides, as well. So we’ll add that to Sunday’s agenda.

Countdown: 49 Days

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

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Now that it’s May, I can say we will be moving to South Dakota next month.

Whoa.

I’m pretty excited and anxious to get out there. Right now it feels like we’re living in limbo, standing on the precipice of a brand new life while still going about the daily business of living this current one. Our whole world changes next month and, like the late, great Tom Petty said, the waiting is the hardest part.

My only real trepidation has to do with the fact that we have no idea where we’ll be living yet. It’s hard to look for an apartment long distance when you still have 50+ days to go. I figure by the end of the month we’ll start searching in earnest; our plan is to have a few places lined up and start checking them out the day after we get there. We’ve got six nights booked in a motel and we can always extend that if necessary. I’m more of a planner than Tara so doing it this way makes me nervous, but I’m sure it will all work out.

Also, saying goodbye will be tough. I don’t want to downplay that. It’s nice having family so close by. At the same time, I did live a couple of states away from my folks for a nine-year stretch, and the world did not implode. My brother’s lived far away for a lot longer than that. Leaving Audrey behind will also be hard, but the transition will be a bit easier given that she has already moved out. She wrote us a very heartfelt, touching letter the other day expressing how thankful she is for our love and guidance these past four years. She’s a good kid and we’ll miss her. If she ever changes her mind about coming out to South Dakota with us, she will forever be welcome!

Well, forever is a mighty long time. But I’d say up until 27 or so, lol.

It’s back to reality today after a nice, long weekend, but I don’t mind. Like I said: I’m too anxious at this point to get going. By the way, here’s a pro tip: if you ever go to the Astoria Crab, Seafood & Wine Festival, by all means do it on Sunday. The crowds were about half the size we are used to, so instead of being jammed into the convention center like a can of  sardines (fitting analogy though that is), we were able to move about freely. And with the festival shutting down in a couple of hours by the time we got there, the vendors were willing to wheel and deal. Tara bought two cases of her favorite peanut butter and saved $1 a jar. Score!

Also, I cannot say enough good things about the Sou’wester Lodge. Here’s the trailer we stayed in:

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And the lodge itself:

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It’s just a great, relaxing getaway.

This was our last major trip before we move. Here’s what our Farewell Tour checklist looks like as of this morning:

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With only seven weekends left in the PNW, and four of them booked up, I don’t think we’ll be able to cross every item off that list. A couple more, sure. But places like the zoo and Indian Heaven Wilderness are looking less likely. Still, I like the progress we’ve made.

Countdown: 52 Days

Nobody Cares

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I’m writing this post while kicking back in a vintage travel trailer on the Washington coast. It’s the same trailer Tara and I booked in 2014, when we came out to Long Beach on my birthday weekend for the Astoria Crab, Seafood & Wine Festival. Deja vu, ’cause we are here again for the same festival on the same weekend. This is also the place I holed up back in 2016 to kick off NaNoWriMo. What can I say? We love the Sou’wester! And the crab fest, apparently. I’ve been coming here, on and off, for the past 20 years –  five or six times total – so this is one of those bittersweet occasions because it’s our last hurrah. We haven’t even hit the fest yet, and we’re already having a blast!

My birthday began on a less than auspicious note with the following text from my mom.

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Ha! I know she didn’t mean that. Tara and I (and about 50 other people on social media) got a good laugh over it.

I took the day off (Friday) and headed out to the Columbia Gorge for what has become a tradition – a birthday hike. I’d always wanted to check out Dog Mountain, one of the most popular hikes on the Washington side of the river; it’s known for brilliant wildflower displays in spring. I’m sure they were awesome, but there wasn’t much of a view because of the low clouds that obscured the peak.

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Let’s talk about that wind, though. Above the tree line, there was a steady wind blowing at what I estimated to be 60-70 mph. No exaggeration. It was so strong it literally knocked me off my feet at one point. Between the dense cloud cover, hurricane-force winds, and bitter cold, it wasn’t a particularly rewarding hike. I definitely consider it the toughest one I’ve ever done, thanks to a 2800′ elevation gain over eight grueling roundtrip miles. Two days later, my knees and quads are still aching. But at least I proved to myself that, despite being another year older, I can still complete a difficult-rated hike. I doubt I would do this one again, though. Good thing we’re moving – there aren’t any Black Hills hikes nearly so steep!

Saturday we set out for Long Beach, making the trip via Highway 4 on the Washington side of the river. We’d never gone that way before, but I’m glad we decided to try a new route – it was quite scenic. We made a stop in Gray’s River to check out the last covered bridge in Washington state, and decided to check out a cute little Irish pub in town for a cocktail and a bite to eat. Looks nice from the outside, right?

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Little did we know of the dark secrets contained within its walls. Turned out to be one of the most bizarre experiences of our lives, from the overly earnest proprietors who slid a handwritten, food-splattered list of specials under our noses to the cornflakes on Tara’s cheeseburger. Most disturbing of all, though? The extensive display of Nazi memorabilia scattered throughout the bar.

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You know that movie The Hills Have Eyes? Let’s just say we felt fortunate to walk out of that place alive.

We checked into the Sou’wester around 4:00 and, once we got settled in, headed across the street to Rod’s Lamplighter, another dive bar (this one free of any Third Reich associations, thankfully). We killed a good four hours there drinking, playing pool, and filling up the jukebox with good music. Tara looked at me askance when the Bee Gees and ABBA started playing, but by then it was late in the evening and I was beyond caring. Came back to our trailer, heated up some pizza from the night before, and watched Sixteen Candles while rain began falling on the roof. It was pretty much perfect! A little too perfect perhaps, because I basically passed out.

Time to get ready for the Crab Fest!

Countdown: 54 Days

 

 

Fox Paw’s Coming Home

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When we lived in South Dakota in the ’80s, my parents bought an ice scraper. Not just any ol’ ice scraper, mind you; this one was special. It was called the Fox Paw and came wrapped in faux fur, so your hand would stay warm when scraping ice from the car’s windshield. Pretty ingenious, actually.

Sunday they had me over for an early birthday celebration since they will be traveling on the actual day. The grilled teriyaki chicken and potato salad were delicious and the carrot cake divine, but the real joy came when it was time to open gifts. They handed me a wrapped package and said, “It’s time to pass this on now.” I had no clue what that might possibly mean, so I tore open the package and found…

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Wait. Could it really be?!

It was!!

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The Fox Paw is coming home!

Scoff if you will, but know this: when it’s ten degrees below zero and snowing like mad, my hand is going to be nice and toasty while I clear my windshield. (Actually, when it’s ten degrees below zero and snowing like mad, my whole body is going to be nice and toasty because if you think I’m venturing outside in that shit, you’re crazy. But, if I did, then yeah. My hand would be nice and toasty.)

There’s a beautiful symmetry to something coming full circle, don’t you think?

They also got me a gift card to Murphy’s Pub & Grill in downtown Rapid City. We stopped in for dinner and cocktails after our whirlwind Saturday there last October and loved the place. So the gift card is greatly appreciated and sure to get used. After all, they’ve got fried pickles there.

This past Saturday, we met up with my coworker Candace and her husband, Devon, for a day of cider tasting in Portland. And when I say “day” I do mean that in the all-day sense, as we ended up hitting three cider houses and a distillery over the span of seven hours. It was a lot of fun, though. And something we’d talked about doing for a long time.

The rest of the weekend was spent packing. I’m trying to strike a balance between getting as much stuff as possible boxed up early so there isn’t a last-minute scramble while still trying to make the apartment feel homey, but with three empty bookshelves and nothing but nails on the walls where photos and artwork used to be, it’s inevitably starting to look a bit barren now. On the plus side, since Audrey’s bedroom is empty, we are able to use that as a staging area for all our boxes. When we were preparing to move from the townhouse four years ago, we were surrounded by piles of boxes the last two months we were there. Out of sight is out of mind; at least now it just looks like we’ve embraced an extremely minimalist lifestyle.

Also, we’ve decided on going the U-Haul route as it’s the most economical way to move. Because of that, we’ve altered our plans slightly and will now be leaving one day earlier than originally scheduled – June 22 versus the 23rd. This is a significant date for reasons I’ll get into another time (hint: more symmetry). The bottom line is, our countdown has jumped ahead a day, which means every other post on the blog is now technically inaccurate. My inner perfectionist wants to go back and fix all those numbers, but I’m going to resist the urge. The date was never truly set in stone anyway.

Countdown: 59 Days

 

A Love Sleeps Deep

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I feel sorry for all the Midwest folks who are still waiting for spring as they dig out from a seemingly endless parade of snowstorms. You guys are my peeps (or will be in a couple of months), so I feel your pain.

However, I am not yet a Midwesterner, so I may feel your pain but I am certainly not experiencing it. Because spring is going nuts out here.

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2018-04-19 09.52.49

I like fall the best, but spring is no slouch.

We had a moving company representative come by on Tuesday to give us an estimate. It was far higher than expected: $7,300, which is about 2.5 times more than we budgeted. I guess we vastly underestimated the cost of an interstate move. (Actually, that’s not true. In reality, we had no freakin’ clue how much it would cost. I think we just hoped it would be under $3,000.)

Considering we can rent a U-Haul and hire a couple of helpers to move our heavy stuff down three flights of stairs for roughly $1,800, we’re most likely going to go that route. It’s hard to argue with the economics of the situation, especially given that I’m the only one with a job locked up. We’d have to haul one of our vehicles on a trailer and the trip would take a bit longer because of physics (and that pesky Continental Divide that will surely slow a heavy truck down), but it’s do-able. We might have to leave a day earlier than planned in order to make up some of that time, because we’ve already got a week’s worth of lodging booked in Rapid City. Would I rather just hire somebody to do the dirty work? Of course. But I also really happen to like saving money.

Nothing is set in stone yet. We’re still weighing our options.

After the estimator left, we celebrated Audrey’s 18th birthday with my parents. BTW, she moved out last week, renting a room in a house with a coworker/friend. Kids grow up so fast!

Wednesday was our Moondoggies concert at Mississippi Studios. My favorite part of the evening occurred two hours before the show even began. Tara and I had arrived early and were seated by the window of Bar Bar, the adjoining bar and grill, enjoying cocktails and a burger and fries, when Kevin Murphy – their lead singer – walked by. He spotted us and waved. Then he came over, shook our hands, and chatted us up for a few minutes. I eat that shit up, not gonna lie. I love that he knows us (by name even) and doesn’t consider us stalkers, even though we’ve been front and center for eight Moondoggies shows over the past six years. Later he and the band signed a copy of their newest record for us, and even personalized it.

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The show was great, of course. Beforehand I realized that the very first time we went to Mississippi Studios was to see The Moondoggies, so it was only fitting that our last show there would also involve them. Unless something last minute comes up, that is, but we’re running out of time. And I’d kind of like to end it on that high note anyway.

The band played until 11:30 so it was a late night, and we had to go to work the next day, but in the end it was totally worth it.

It always is.

I’m not going to change my countdown app until we have solidified our moving plans, so we might have one day less than indicated, but for now…

Countdown: 64 Days