Answer Your Cat's Questions Day: Portrait Series

It's that time of the year again. No, it's not time to feel guilty about breaking resolutions or not going to the gym or some such nonsense. It's time to answer your cat's questions! Cats are very curious creatures, so we should all be excited that there's one day per year that they channel that curiosity into a productive means of communication by asking questions rather than say, climbing the fireplace grate or eating plastic. It's the little things that matter.

Keely's had a pretty busy year since his last question day. He got a new cat bed, moved to a new house, got a Halloween bow tie, sat under a Christmas tree, and watched a hawk for the first time. He's dealt with boxes, a fancy pants sofa, and scaled back on the biting. He's decided he likes our extended family, with my brother being his second favorite and my parents rounding out his top spots because they provide turkey (my dad) and tell him he's handsome (my mom). He also found a new bird nemesis, who he stalks from window to window in our new house (we have 11 windows). So much excitement for a three year old.

As the proud cat mom I am, I post a lot of photos of my cat son on Instagram. He's ridiculously photogenic, so why not? To change things up a bit, I asked Keely to prepare his questions based on some of our (translation: my favorite - he doesn't love having his photo taken, but boy does he pose) favorite portraits from the last year. Let's dive into Keely's questions!

How often do you plan to work from home? The morning cuddles aren't terrible. Did I hear you sort of say you like something related to being a lap cat and showing affection? Are you a pod cat version of Keely or do you just like me now? You like to cuddle? Amazing. I only work from home once a week, but this last week, I had to go to a special event closer to home so I worked from home a few more days than normal. We'll be back to our normal schedule next week, BUT we can still do morning cuddles on the weekends.

You know I can't talk and only understand about 30 actual words you say? I'm very aware you can't talk, but talking to your pet is actually a sign of intelligence. Human brains are a powerful thing, and talking to pets is a sign of that. In our case, I'm actually responding to the fact that you often sit around the house looking like a cat therapist, and a cat therapist seems like a great therapist to me.

Why do you insist on making all the noise with the roar-y pushy thing? I'm napping. The roar-y pushy thing is called a vacuum and I have to run the vacuum to clean our house. You shed, dirt gets tracked in, sometimes we spill things, the floors needs to be cleaned. I'm sorry if the vacuum interrupts your napping time or your sunbathing time. I'll try plan my vacuuming around your running around the house like a wild animal time. That should balance out the noise.

When did your bed get so comfy? It's so comfy. I don't understand why you move your legs or get up. The bed is the same bed we've always had so I don't know that it's gotten more comfortable since we moved. I did put a different comforter on the bed, so maybe that's what you're responding to. It's a little more squishy than the other one. You've also been sleeping on the bed every night (which is new), so it could also be that you're spending more time on the bed so you're noticing it more. I'm glad you're enjoying the bed more, but I do occasionally need to move my legs around. And I do have to go to work and buy groceries and stuff. That's how life works. 

I am majestic AF. Excuse me? Where did you learn "AF" and do you know what that means? Also, not a question. I'm shocked that you would you such language; you're only three years old. I guess I do swear like a sailor and you might have picked up a word or two. How is that one of the 30 words you understand? These things aside, I can't disagree with you. You are majestic AF. Someone should paint your portrait. 

The other lady told me I shouldn't sit on that other couch that isn't our couch. No one else is sitting on it; I figured it was for me. Why can't I sit on it? I look very regal. In the grand tradition of Garland family pets, I'm not surprised you love that sofa. The dogs, Whitney and Mack, loved it, although both of them struggled to jump on it (short legs). Pumpkin sat on that sofa like it was her job. It's a special couch, and you're all very special so that's probably why you want to sit on it. In your case, you don't like being told no, so sitting on that sofa is one thing you're really not supposed to do at my parents' house, so of course, you're going to sit on it. My mom is never really going to make you get off the sofa. Just don't throw up on it.

Why are there so many boxes around? I hate boxes. Why do cats like boxes? What's wrong with them? I think it's fascinating that you don't like boxes. Research has shown that cats like boxes because they serve as a way to hide from predators. I guess for you, the IKEA bag serves a similar purpose. There have been/are so many boxes around because we moved to a new house recently. Boxes are used to move things from one place to another, so we needed them to move. You were a very good boy during the move and I appreciate you good boy behavior. We're almost all unpacked so the boxes should be gone soon, maybe even by next weekend. 

Speaking of IKEA bags, can I have my own? So I bought you your own IKEA bag for Christmas. Every time I leave it out, you ignore it and try to climb up the fireplace grate (which you really need to stop doing). I can give you one of the older IKEA bags since you really seem to love those. I want you to be super happy in our new home, so if an older IKEA bag makes you happy, so be it. Once I get the boxes out of the guest room, I'll leave the IKEA bag out all the time for you. You can permanently live in an IKEA bag down by the river if you decide that's the way you want to live your life. 

How is it possible you don't see the ghost? It was right over your head in the old apartment. I never got a ghost vibe at the old place. It seemed too new and shiny for ghosts. I guess ghosts could be anywhere, but hear me out on this. Do you think it could be outside noises or maybe a squirrel or rodent who lives in the walls? I'm grossed out by the rodent in the walls idea, but it's also a possibility. I guess if it is in fact a ghost, I'm glad I have you to let me know. Keep up the good ghost hunting work in our new place. 

So remember that time we were at those people's house and there was that really big bird outside. What was that? How do I get it? I want to get it. So that bird is called a hawk. Hawks are birds of prey, and the feed on smaller birds and animals, including squirrels. As you know, my dad (the man who makes the turkey) likes to feed birds and squirrels. The backyard is like his own Wild Kingdom. This makes it a prime target for hawks; I'm pretty certain they're going to steal a squirrel one day (and by steal, I mean eat). Anyway, I'm glad you like watching the hawk, but hawks will also go after cats so I don't think you'll ever get to "get it". Sorry buddy.

Why didn't you get me my own chicken sandwich when you got a chicken sandwich? I like chicken sandwiches. Don't you love me? I know you like chicken sandwiches, but you can't have chicken sandwiches especially if they're from Popeye's. Fried food and spicy things aren't good for you. You may have chicken sometimes, but only if I cook it. I promise that I'll make you some chicken soon. Unrelated, but since we're on the topic of chicken sandwiches, the Popeye's sandwich is far superior to that other place and it doesn't come with a side of homophobia. Even cats know you shouldn't support hateful places even if they have waffle fries.

Do you think I'm getting better at hiding? I don't know if better is the word I'd use, but you're trying and that's what really matters. The thing about hiding is that no one is supposed to see you. It creates an element of surprise when jump from your hiding place and attack. You need to work on hiding your whole body, not just a leg or your tail. The cool thing about our new house is that we have really long curtains by one of the windows. You should focus your hiding here because you can use the curtains for camouflage. A skilled hider uses his environment to his advantage.

Do you think Billy Porter would like me? I've been working on my poses. You really loved watching Pose didn't you? I know you've been working on your poses, and I think Billy Porter would be very proud of you. You've also done such a good job working on your side eye that he can't possibly not enjoy you. I bet he'd also really like to see your version of Blue Steel; I know it's your best pose. It's not from his show, but I think he'd love it. Maybe he'll come up with a Keely inspired category next season.

Do I amuse you? Why do you always laugh at me when I sit like this? Did you watch Goodfellas while I was at work one day? This question is very Goodfellas era Joe Pesci. I call this pose your "dude who has just realized he made a very bad life choice, but there's nothing he can do about it" pose. Also that dude's name is Chad. I don't know why, but it is. When you sit like a person it makes me laugh. It's funny and silly and part of your cat charm, and it's even better when you sit on the chair or on the couch. It's one of my favorite things you do.

I really like my bed. Thank you for getting it for me. That was so polite of you, and you're welcome. I'm glad you like the new bed. In the future, let's try not to vomit on this one. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to find another one just like it.

Seriously, I'm freaking handsome. And so humble; we need to work on this a bit more. When is your album going to drop? For real, someone needs to get on this and use your handsomeness for good in the world. It's too much for just me to handle. That's why I post so many photos of you on Instagram.

I hope you enjoyed this year's "Answer Your Cat's Questions Day." Keely came up with some really good questions this year. If you need him for anything, he'll be working on his hiding skills and trying to figure out a way to catch his bird nemesis even though he doesn't go outside. If you have a question for him, drop it in the comments and he'll answer you as soon as his next nap is over.

Coming soon to the Island: I roll along the Avenue in Nyx 2020 (so much glitter) and we'll Lazy Movie Weekend AJ & the Queen. Don't miss it!

Keely's Big Adventure

At a recent work holiday happy hour, I was talking with a few of my co-workers on the walk to our cars and one asked me how I would handle a person who was being rude to or about Keely. This was part of a larger conversation we'd been having about house guests and pets. I shared a story earlier in the conversation about my friend's son playing with Keely for the entire time he visited and how it exhausted the cat so much he slept a solid 24 hours. Someone else shared about a time when a guest came over and was horrified that the dog was allowed to stay out when people were visiting. Really? The dog lives there; you are visiting. I don't get people who know they're visiting a house with animals and then are surprised the animals are there. It makes be rage-ful when people ask me if Keely is going to bite them when they come over. No, my cat is not going to bite you. Cats don't walk up to a person and bite them for no reason. If you give him a reason, well, maybe you shouldn't be around cats.

Anyway, my response to the question about rudeness was "I would have words with a person who was rude to or about Keely. If they tried to physically harm my cat son, I would fight them and win." My co-worker chuckled and said something like "that's what I thought you'd say," but not in a judge-y way. It's my duty as a pet mom to defend my pet. That's how it works. If you're not prepared for this part of your responsibility as a pet parent, don't get a pet. Ever.

We celebrated Keely's first year with me back in June, and it's been a good one. Challenging at times, but a good first year. Keely has had to adjust to a lot in that time, and he's slowly becoming more comfortable with me. Of course, just as we're getting comfy, I go and decide to buy a house and upset the entire order of our lives with a move. Baby boy is stressed out, and apparently hates boxes. How did I end up with a cat who hates boxes?

As the process of purchasing the condo was going on, I was planning how to best introduce Keely to his new home. We're not officially moving in until after Christmas, so we'd also have a visit to my parents in the middle of all of this, so what would be the best way to get him used to the new place? I decided to take him over with me before all our stuff arrives to explore and rub his little face on everything. I packed him up and took him over to keep me company while I waited for the cable guy.

Keely doesn't get to go on very many adventures. He's recently started hissing at me when I try to put him the carrier, so leaving the house is not one of our preferred activities. Keely's adventures mainly consist of tracking the ghost in our apartment (it might be a ghost, it might be our upstairs neighbors - we'll never really know), playing with his favorite toy mouse so enthusiastically that it gets stuck under the oven or refrigerator, napping, and communing with a spider that lives between the glass and screen of my bedroom window. He lives a very full indoor life.

I got him into the big carrier (we have two carriers) by bribing him with treats and then quickly closing the carrier door. He hissed at me and gave me a look that said, "you thought my revenge for the bow ties was going to be bad, just wait." He was pretty quiet on the actual drive over to the condo, plotting his revenge on me in his very devious cat way. We arrived at the condo, and thankfully, none of our dog neighbors were outside. I carried him up the stairs and let him out of the carrier. He darted out of the carrier so fast I barely had time to get out of his way. He ran around the condo with a speed I've never seen. He slid across the tile floor in the kitchen. He jumped on the window ledges. He rubbed his face on the walls. He decided to explore the bathtub. He found the sun patches. He escaped into the main hallway.

Yes, he got out of the condo. I went out to the car to grab a few things, and was coming back inside and he darted out. Thankfully, he was still inside and I was able to catch him and get him back inside. I'm going to have to baby gate the entry until he understands that it's not okay to dart outside. It was a very busy three hours.

I have no idea if bringing Keely over to the condo was a good idea, but at least when he comes back next week, it'll smell like him and he'll see our stuff and maybe feel a bit more like it's his home. He can continue his pursuit of rubbing his face on everything to make it his, and maybe he'll make a new spider friend. Hopefully, he'll get used to the new noises around the community and find his ideal napping spots.

Did I mention the fireplace? I didn't even turn the fireplace on, and Keely figured out that it's the best place in the condo. What's even going to happen when I figure out how to turn it on?

We've got one more day of packing, a few days of vacation, and then we move. How many new adventures will Keely find in 2020?

I'm suspicious of everything. 

Coming next weekend on the Island: the last post of 2019 - a look at the year that was 2019! Happy Holidays from me and Keely!

If it's not color coded, I don't want to hear about it

I've lived in an apartment of some kind since the summer after my first year in college. Getting that first apartment was a big deal; my roommate and I took it over from a friend who was graduating so it was like the apartment was staying in the family. It wasn't the greatest apartment ever but it was my first apartment; I still think of it fondly nineteen years later (yikes, I'm old). Back then, moving into a new apartment was exciting and new. It felt like an adventure. I recall that we would overspend at Wal-Mart (Target wasn't really a thing yet) and maybe the thrift store if we were feeling up for it. We needed new things for our new space despite the fact that we didn't have much money and what we bought normally didn't last very long. Inherited furniture was the norm and none of us thought about it for a minute (free is free when you're in college). I remember having dinner parties in this apartment and experiencing those glimmers of adulthood we all have at nineteen. This was what it was like to be on your own and have friends and entertain. I roasted a chicken like a boss back then. One of my favorite photos from that period is from Halloween; we had everyone over before people went their separate ways. One of my friends was dressed in drag as Super Doppler 6000 (people who lived in New Orleans in the late 1990s know what this is) and another friend is sitting in the background with no expression on his face about the costume. It was glorious and weird and exactly what is perfect about college.

This is what happens when I move now.

In the history of my apartments, I've only truly hated one place I lived (I had to break my lease it was so bad) and have loved three of my apartments so much that I often find myself daydreaming about living in them once again. For the record those apartments would be: the Broadway house, my second apartment in Alameda, and my lovely studio on Bordeaux Street. Two of these apartments are in New Orleans; this probably means something.

When I moved back to Virginia four-ish years ago, I had a crappy time finding an apartment. For anyone not familiar with the DMV, real estate in this area is ridiculously priced (overpriced I would say). If I want to pay a reasonable amount of rent, I'd have to live an hour away from work (at least) which is probably more like a 2-3 hour commute each way. I don't hate myself so this is not an option. Paying for proximity makes me rage-ful but it's the way it works here. I knew this going into my search when I moved back, however, I didn't prepare myself to be wildly disappointed by how not worth the money most of these places are. Curious what a junior one bedroom is like? That's just a fancy way of saying "studio apartment with no washer and dryer." Affordable housing in the DMV is a huge and I can only imagine what families face when going through this. I have the luxury of just needing a place for me and the great Pumpkin but that doesn't mean it's any less disappointing when you look at what you pay versus what you actually get. Of course, leasing companies know this and they see us all coming.

I've never been interested in owning a home; owning a home in this area wouldn't necessarily be any better for me. I assume my disinterest in home ownership is because I grew up in the military; we moved every few years. I don't have a childhood home per se. The houses I grew up in are probably still there but my parents don't live in any of them. They moved into their current house in the early 2000s; I lived there for about four months during Hurricane Katrina. It's a lovely house but not my house. I don't really know if not having a childhood home has anything to do with not wanting to own a home but I'm sure it's a contributing factor. I see houses I like all the time; I just have no inclination to buy one. Maybe I fancy myself a vagabond and buying a house would go directly against that idea.

I'm moving to a new apartment the first weekend of January. I don't really have to move but I'm feeling restless and this was the easiest way to cure my restlessness. Unlike 99.9% of the population, I enjoy moving. Moving appeals to the organizer in me; it's a system with processes and I like systems with processes. I like to think of moving in different phases: search phase, purge/donation phase, pre-packing phase, final packing phase, and unpacking phase. The search phase is the phase I like the least; I'm impulsive when it comes to apartment shopping. I get frustrated easy and have little patience for listening to the same leasing office spiel over and over. This means I either rent the first place I see or I look at a million places before making a decision while simultaneously complaining to everyone and needing a drink after each visit. I only looked at three places this time around and it was definitely enough.

My favorite phases are the purge/donation phase and the unpacking phase. I love getting rid of things; I don't do it often enough. There's something satisfying about throwing shit away. I can still be sentimental about people and memories without having all the freaking clutter. Why did I keep all of this stuff I haven't looked at since 2000? Do I really need these Christmas lights I haven't used since I moved into this apartment? For this particular move, I did something I've never done before: I tried on all of my clothes. It's sounds bananas but it was awesome. I went through my closest, my chest of drawers, and the two bins of stuff under my bed. The donation pile is huge and it makes me feel good about my life. I got rid of things that don't fit (mostly too big - score!), things I've only worn once or twice, and a few things I've never worn and feel bad about wasting money on. I went through all my shoes and pared that mess down too. It feels good to shed the unnecessary. I, like many other women, have kept clothes thinking I'd wear them when I was a little skinnier or whatever but seriously, it's not worth it. I'd rather keep clothes I love and enjoy wearing than clothes that make me feel bad about myself or have some unrealized purpose associated with them. I have zero fucks to give about unrealized purpose and clothing. It's all about being comfortable and fashionable - I can. scratch that, I am both.

The other thing I did in this phase, and I know I'll do more of when I get to the new place, is evaluate my baking equipment. I have amassed a lot of baking accoutrements over the years. I'm not even sure where some of it came from since I don't recall buying several of the items that were in my hall closet but I also don't recall receiving them as gifts. Where did these mystery baking pans come from? Anyway, after getting over my shock of having mystery pans, I was able to cull down my collection and add the others to the donation pile. They're all in really good shape so there's that.

I'm looking forward to the unpacking phase. It takes me back to the excitement I used to feel whenever we'd move when I was younger and the adventure of my first apartment in college. I see unpacking as opportunity - how will I design my new space? Do I keep my books organized by color because it's nice to look at despite being hard to find things or do I revert back to alphabetical order? Alphabetical order is boring so I have a feeling I'll keep my color organization going. I mean, look at how visually appealing that is. It's like my books are saying, "Welcome home, Erin!"

What about my CDs and records? Should I entertain the grand reorganization style of 2002 when I organized my CDs autobiographically? This takes forever to figure out and I need to invest in a new storage system for them. Autobiographical organization is based on the time in life that you purchased the album. So it's like an episode of "This is Your Life" as told through CDs. Or maybe "Behind the Music" without the drug addiction, car crashes, and poor life choices. How should I arrange my art? What goes where in my closet (organized by color and clothing type because that's the only way to organize a closet)? What about my shoes? Don't even get me started on my kitchen. There are so many possibilities when you move into a new space. Organization is an art form; I'm looking forward to working in my greatest medium. 

You know who's not going to be happy about the move? Pumpkin. Despite her love of jumping in boxes, she's really going to miss her heater.

On My Way

There were boxes everywhere. That’s what happens when you move; boxes and suitcases and covered furniture. I was ready for the movers to get here so I could get on the road. The drive was going to be a long one and I wanted to get at least to Atlanta tonight. Nine hours was totally doable in one day. I didn’t have to be in California for two weeks and had stops to make along the way. I was taking the long route across Louisiana and Texas and eventually up the California coast to my new home in the East Bay. I knew no one there but didn’t care.

I had never intended to stay in Virginia as long as I had. I could lie and pretend that my job was what kept me here but as lame as it sounds, it was actually a guy. We met not too long after I moved here for my job and had been together for four years. He was exactly the kind of guy I imagined I spend the rest of my life with; funny, smart, and kind. We had a ton in common and everyone thought we were perfect for one another and would have perfect, cool babies who liked David Bowie, Star Wars, and Michael Penn straight out of the womb.

That did not happen. My “perfect match” was a perfect jackass. After we moved in together, we got engaged and had started planning a low-key, very us wedding. We were at a cake tasting and he turned to me and said, “I don’t think I can do this.” Being me, I thought he meant the cake tasting. He had meant the wedding. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to live together. He didn’t want to be with me. He had only done those things because he thought that’s what I wanted. He never thought to ask me.

I decided that the only sensible thing to do was to leave town. I didn’t want to be reminded of the places we went together or had found together. I didn’t want to run into him at the farmer’s market in our neighborhood (when he moved out, he stayed in the neighborhood). I didn’t want to run into him with someone new. I wanted to start over again. That was the only way that I could move on with my life.

My small circle of friends thought I was crazy. They didn’t understand why I had to leave town to get over a guy. I tried to explain that it wasn’t just the guy (although four years of my life had been spent with someone I thought was the one); it was me. I needed to do this for me. I needed to try somewhere new and start again. I had lived on the East Coast for a long time and decided it was time to see if I was a California girl. I wanted my life to be more colorful and exciting than it was. I needed a change.

The movers finally arrived. It took them exactly two hours to load all of of my worldly possessions into the moving truck. I tipped the guys and gave them waters for the road. My stuff would get there right after I did so. This was all going to work out.

A few of my friends had come to see me off. I was going to miss them a lot but the beauty of life in the modern age is that we’re connected to one another no matter where we are. I promised to check in with them along the way. They planned to visit me in the fall once I got settled.

I got into my trusty Ford Escape and started my way south. I love road trips. Just me, my car, my music, and the open road. I had spent a few days before leaving preparing an epic mix of songs to get from Virginia to California and all the places in between. Some were sad, some were funny and fun, some matched the location I planned to be in while listening. I had been looking forward to my road trip music as much as I had been looking forward to the trip itself. I had even created a mix including songs that I had listened to with my ex. I felt that by listening to them without him and in a completely new context I would be able to listen to them without being sad. Every song took on new meaning for me; it was like I was hearing them for the first time.

The songs kept me going through the mountains and the vast expanses of nothing that I hit as I drove through parts of Texas and the deserts of New Mexico and Arizona and then up the beautiful California coast. I was seeing parts of the country that I had never seen before. It was overwhelming but exactly what I needed to get myself in the right place for my new life. There’s always a moment when you just feel like what you’re doing is exactly the right thing to do. I felt that so many times on this trip. And I knew that I was on my way. 

(Based on the prompt "(Play a piece of music without revealing the artist or title.) Write something that goes along with this soundtrack.") The song is "On Your Way" by Michael Penn. Also, this is not autobiographical.

The Road Ninja is done

This was supposed to be about something else entirely but I just wasn't feeling it when I sat down today. I will save that idea for another time.

This Road Ninja is done with moving. Yes, I know I always say this and then end up moving again but I mean it this time. Unless moving professionals, a ton of money, and a moving planner are involved, I will be staying in this lovely apartment for the foreseeable future. The thought of purging stuff, packing, loading a truck, driving anywhere longer than 30 minutes away,  unloading a truck, unpacking, and reorganizing my life again makes my stress hives start. I don't want to complete another online address change request. I don't want to fill out another state's tax form.

My mom asked me how many times I've moved total (since it is actually more than my family has moved) and I told her sixteen times. I lied - this move to Arlington makes eighteen times. This includes:

• Eight states (Michigan, Wisconsin, Alabama, Louisiana, Virginia, Georgia, Hawaii, and California) - Now technically I never physically lived in Georgia but it was my permanent address for 2 years in college so I have to count it.
• 10 apartments
• 1 dorm room
• Louisiana and Virginia tie for the most times living in one state (I've lived in each on 3 separate occasions.)
• 3 cars (although I only really drove 2 of them)
• 2 roommates (both amazing ladies!!)

Pumpkin has lived in 4 states and 9 apartments. She's a very well-traveled cat. Too bad she suffers from terrible car sickness. I guess that's what becoming an old lady cat will do to you.

This past move was particularly difficult, not because I was particularly attached to California or because I was coming back to Arlington under negative circumstances. It was just a lot. There has to be a point in one's life when the nomadic tendencies stop. I'm hoping that this is that time for me. 

I'm in a list mood today (because I've been making a lot of lists this week). Here's what this move looks like in list form:

• 3,122 miles driven between Alameda and Arlington
• 60 hours in the car (this doesn't account for time spent in Detroit visiting family or running errands)
• 14 states
• 3 mountain ranges
• 3 hotels
• $80 in tolls (Pennsylvania was the most expensive because there are 2 tolls. Silly PA.)
• $900 for gas. Haul and Oates were expensive.
• 8 fast food restaurants, 1 Olive Garden
• 1 almost accident (People need to not stop abruptly on freeway on-ramps when I'm driving behind them in a large truck and towing my car. Stopping quickly is not really an option, guy in the white truck.)
• 1 experience with time travel
• 35 postcards sent (I hope they've all arrived)
• 1 public shouting episode with UHaul (at a winery)
• 3 trips to Target since arriving in VA 
• 2 trips to the grocery since arriving in VA
• 1 very awesome big brother

                           

I've accomplished a lot this week. I went to work every day (and worked late most days), unpacked all but three boxes (I have no idea where my CDs are going to go), and I was able to get back and forth to work without getting lost. I didn't have to use my directions after 2 days! I bought a TV today and pictures are hanging on the walls. There is a closet that shall not be discussed but I will eventually get to it and figure out what to do with it. The apartment feels more like home - my things have found their places (except for maybe the Saints gnome) and Pumpkin seems to be enjoying herself. Between the large window and her discovery of the top of the cabinets, she's made herself right at home here. The only things left on my shopping list are things I don't really need right now (like a shoe organizer and something for the CDs). I guess I'm done for now. I guess all that's left to do now is stop reorganizing cabinets and closets and get out there and enjoy my new town.  

Totally unrelated note: Thanks for reading! The Island hit a big milestone this week (over 2000 hits) and I really appreciate that people have kept reading, commenting, and sharing. I promise to be more amusing next week and quote my friend Matt (since I was supposed to do it this week but failed miserably).

Happy reading!

What do you mean I don't live on an island anymore?

A farewell cocktail

I'm here - Virginia. We made it across country (again) and in one piece. Haul and Oates did their job and tomorrow I can get rid of the last part of the duo and move into my apartment. Pumpkin won't have to run away from the dog or jump on top of the refrigerator (although I suspect she really enjoys that part of being at my parents' house).

I did a lot during my final days in Alameda. I went to a Giants game, the Off the Grid food truck event at South Shore, a BBQ, going away drinks, my final work lunch, and an A's game. Oh and I did some packing, dropped off the last donations, and started cleaning.

In a previous post, I declared this year the year of the friend. I feel like I made progress on that while in Alameda and I will definitely miss the friends I've made and hope that they'll come visit me in Arlington.

I enjoyed being part of the ever-shrinking Oakland office.  Erin, Katrien, David, and Creighton - make sure to drop by when you're in Arlington. I look forward to wearing my Oakland shirt at the H'Oscars. Once an Oakland office member, always an Oakland office member.

To the Altarena peeps: I have enjoyed working with you all and having the opportunity to be part of an Alameda tradition. Joe and Sue, thanks for being my Forbidden Island buddies, reading and encouraging the blog, and making me feel as "local" as I can be. Liz, Mari, and Star: thanks for helping with the UHaul last week. I was totally impressed with the job we did. I appreciate it more than you know. Keep in touch and thanks for the laughs. Star, thanks for introducing me to DPC and talking art with me. Liz, I'm glad someone else understands my travel obsession and doesn't think my crush on Richard Dowden is too weird.

Making candy with strangers - delicious

To Erin, Scott, and team 959: Erin, thanks for making me feel like a part of the Oakland office rather than "the other Erin." I will do my best to find a sane (but interesting and fun) new trainer to keep things balanced and entertaining. I don't know what I enjoyed the most: listening to Pat's random mix CDs before meeting him, making candy with strangers (Katherine, Amber, and Seth), listening to Emily's side comments, Matt's crazy stories, or the musings of Dr. Scott. It's been great getting to know all of you. Hopefully, I'll see y'all next time I'm in town. I was also not joking when I told Erin I would post a video of Dr. Scott on this blog. Film it and send it to me and Dr. Scott will make his Island debut. It will be amazing.

And what will become of the Island of Misfit Toys? This blog started as a way for me to figure out my way in California and I think it helped tremendously. However, it's really morphed into me being me and having an outlet for writing so I think it'll stay the same. As I explained to several people before I left, I'm sort of the misfit toy and the island now. I think it still fits. I hope you keep reading because I'm going to keep on writing.

Does your mom know you're here?

We've spent the last two days hanging around Detroit. Both of our parents were born and raised in southwest Detroit. Scott and I were born here too (him in Detroit, me in Southfield). We moved away before I started kindergarten. We spent a lot of summers and holidays here when we were growing up. I really didn't like Detroit when I was a kid. My friends went to camp or on vacations in the summer. We went to Detroit where there was no air conditioning and nothing to do (at least that's what I remember telling my friends all the time). What I probably never told them was all the fun I did have playing with my cousins - making mud pies in my grandpa's backyard, going to Tigers games, and getting to go to Dairy Queen on Michigan Avenue (this is back when most DQs were only open in the summers).

I complained about these trips but secretly I loved them. I particularly liked sitting at the kitchen table at either of my grandparents' houses (or late my aunt's) and listening to the adults talk. They'd tell fun stories about our family or gossip about relatives that weren't around. We'd stock up on Vernor's and Faygo and Better Made potato chips. Good times.

Detroit has changed a lot since those summers. I know most people don't know or don't want to know Detroit. It's easier to make fun of the city and to overlook it's colorful history or its contributions to industry, agriculture, art, and music. I'm not going to spend time trying to convince anyone that Detroit is awesome - I know it is, my family knows it is, and people who love Detroit get it. If you don't, that's cool. We can't all like everything all the time.

My aunt took Scott and I on a little tour of places of our past. I feel like my aunt is the keeper of Detroit. She and her family live in one of the oldest neighborhoods in Detroit and really live for the city. She doesn't want us to forget these great places. So we drove to the Detroit River and walked part of the Dequindre Cut. The Riverfront is beautiful; a lot of work has been done to make it bike and walker/jogger friendly and support local art.

Wave to Canada!

We also took Scott by the Heidelberg Project. I had been here before and thought it was amazing. It's an outdoor art project started in 1986. The artist, Tyree Guyton, started the project as a partial political protest to the decline in the neighborhood. The city has razed it twice but he keeps going.  If you make it to Detroit, you should check it out.

Parts of the city are definitely undergoing revitalization. The hipsters have moved in and hopefully, the allure of living in edgy neighborhoods doesn't wear off before they do some good. Neighborhoods change and some look like they're changing for the better. 

Visiting family was great and we did the Detroit errands we always do: Dearborn Music, hockey store, and grocery trip. Dearborn Music is one of my favorite places. You can find good used music and they have a huge selection of indie bands. They're moving to a bigger location soon so it was good to go to the old store one more time. Scott also got to go to the hockey store (like a toy store for hockey players). 

No trip would be complete without a grocery run to get our favorites. Buying potato chips and pop (yeah, I said pop-I'm still in Michigan you know) is the best. We don't eat them in the car on the way home; these are saved for later. It's like a reward - you've driven over 2300 miles and you have about 600 more to go, so you deserve some chips and a pop when you get there (despite the fact that you've eaten fast food for days). That first Rock  & Rye is going to be epic.

Thanks Detroit (and family) for another great visit. We'll meet again soon and hopefully for more a visit next time.

The great relocation of 2012 is drawing to a close. Haul and Oates have had a few days rest in Detroit and should be ready for the open road. Hopefully, Scott and I can get the car back on the tow dolly without an accident. We have written instructions and we watched the guy do it the first time. If all else fails, there's a U-Haul location up the road and they can do it for us.

One more mountain range to go.

Road Ninjas

Today was another long travel day. We started out in Omaha, NE and made our way through a large part of Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana. Michigan is our 10th state in 4 days and we have four left before we get to Virginia. Hopefully, between now and then I will not throw Rosie out a window.

Rosie is my brother's GPS. I don't own a GPA and Rosie is partially responsible for that. She's named after the robot from The Jetsons. Scott thought the voice on the GPS sounded like the cartoon character. Rosie the GPS and Rosie the Robot have a lot in common:

1. The voice is the most obvious. Rosie the Robot's voice is a bit huskier but they definitely could be related.
2. Both are bossy and know everything. Rosie the GPS just won't stop with her demands: "Turn left, then turn right." "Turn left, turn left. Turn right." "Didn't you hear me you moron -turn left!" Sadly, Rosie doesn't often realize that we're stopped at a stop sign or light. You can't turn left on red.
3. In theory, both have their owners' safety in mind. Rosie the Robot took excellent care of the Jetsons and gave sage advice even in her bossy way. Rosie the GPS is great if you're going from point A to point B on a the highway (she even avoided a roadway my brother hates near our hotel) BUT Rosie the GPS is also rather fond of sending us through the set of The Wire. No matter where we are, she seems to find the worst part of town at least for part of the trip. Her focus on safety is questionable.

Rosie the GPS has gotten us here and I know she'll help get us all the way to Virginia. That doesn't stop me from hating her just a little bit every time she says "Recalculating" or tells me to turn left but stay right. That just doesn't make any sense.

As we were driving through Illinois (Scott was driving, I was reading), Scott happened to see a road sign about a road ninja. I looked up just in time to see what he was talking about but not in time to take a picture. Road Ninja is an app so I did what anyone with an iPhone would do, I looked it up. It's a free app, created by the company that is responsible for most of the signage you see along the highway. It lets you search upcoming exits and find nearby services. Road Ninja may be my favorite thing ever. 

We used Road Ninja to find an Arby's in Indiana (if you have to eat fast food you might as well eat what you like) and figure out what restaurants were in Jackson, MI where we decided to stop for dinner. Road Ninja, like a real ninja, doesn't talk but sends you awesome advice like "You are too far away from an exit to strike. Remember your Road Ninja training: Creep closer and try again." Or "Road Ninja senses nothing at this exit move along." 

Road Ninja balances Rosie since it's quiet, stealthy, and provides information that isn't always easy to use when you look up places on Rosie's search option (Road Ninja displays exits 40 miles or more away). Did I mention that one of the icons on the options menu is a throwing star? 

Road Ninja led us to Jackson for dinner this evening. Earlier in the day, Scott and I were discussing where we might stop for dinner. We knew we'd have to stop before we got to the hotel since it would be late and our dining options would be limited. I made some comment about our attire and Scott replied, "We're basically dressed to go to the Olive Garden." This may be the funniest thing my brother has said so far on this trip (and he's said a lot of funny things). So when Road Ninja displayed our food options and the Olive Garden was listed we couldn't help ourselves and went there for dinner.

Scott was 100% correct in his clothing assessment: we fit in perfectly. I have this habit of trying to figure out what's going on with people at other tables when I'm in a restaurant. Are they on a first date? Is it awkward? Are they fighting? It's probably not a great habit but it's fun to do particularly when I'm by myself. Anyway, we were seated by a window and there was a couple at seated right behind Scott. I was trying to figure out if they were a couple couple, related to one another, or friends. I admit that I still haven't figured it out.

The guy was in his 50s, tall and rotund (a big, big guy). He had one of those bluetooth earpieces in and a big, diamond encrusted ring. The woman was younger and blond, dressed in a shiny, lowish cut shirt and Olive Garden appropriate shorts. I couldn't figure out what their deal was. We overheard a part of their conversation and that centered around "the girls" at work who weren't doing their jobs and just wanted to sit around and listen to their music. Yes, they were discussing strippers. We still haven't figured out if the guy was the owner or manager of the club or her boyfriend. They left shortly after we overheard this nugget of conversational amazing but they were still in the parking lot when we left, hanging out by a very large white pickup truck. Keeping it classy Olive Garden style.

I leave you on that note, Island readers. I'll post more later this week.

Can't talk about ninjas without mentioning pirates.

Motorcycle gangs, time travel, and the Pony Express

Greetings from Omaha! We've made it through three days on the road and have been enjoying the trip. Today, we left Littleton, CO and made our way to Omaha, NE. Nebraska is one of my favorite states. We got in a little later than planned but that always seems to happen to us.

As we left Littleton this morning after the delicious awesomeness of Krispy Kreme donuts (thanks Amy), we saw this on the highway:

Sheriffs in formation. I've never seen police officers ride in formation outside of parades and special escorts so this was kind of cool. After this, we kept seeing groups of motorcyclists together along the highway.

I don't really know that much about motorcycles or the people that ride them so several questions came to mind as I was driving today:

1. What constitutes a motorcycle gang versus a group of riders? There was one group that had about 12 bikes (maybe more) so I'm wondering if they would be a group or a gang. Do they get to make that call or is there like a motorcycle gang approval process?
2. How does one decide what to where when riding a motorcycle? For example, if you were riding on the back of a motorcycle going down a major highway with lots of semis, people hauling stuff, and other traffic, would you wear jeans and a pink tube top?
3. Along the same lines, if your state has no helmet law or a lax enforcement policy, would you still wear one? Or is riding a motorcycle really the last bastion of badass rebel coolness so you just say to yourself, "Suck it safety!"?

Scott made the reverse trip with me just under two years ago when I moved to California. We discussed the idea of stopping when the time zone changed and taking pictures but we never did. Then the movie Paul came out and there's a scene where Simon Pegg and Nick Frost's characters to this on their UFO road trip. You know, it's time travel. Scott and I decided that we would do it on this trip. And today was the day. We researched where the time zones change and decided that we would wait until the change from Mountain to Central time. If you want to try this one your own, it happens between Paxton and Sutherland, NE.

The pictures in front of the sign are in Mountain time. The pictures (we tried action shots but the road was really hilly) are in Central time. Time travel rocks. We almost passed the sign (Nebraska has to do a better job of warning us when stuff is coming) so I puled over and we walked back. I'm sure the people passing by were laughing at us when they figured out what we were doing.

Final thought of the day (it's late and we have a long day tomorrow). We passed by one of the original Pony Express stops not to long after our time travel photo op. One of my favorite tv shows growing up was The Young Riders. The show was about a group of Pony Express riders and their lives out West. There was the girl passing as a boy (and of course falling in love with one of her fellow riders), the deaf boy, the Native American, the Kid, and young versions of Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill Hickok. Melissa Leo was also on this show (she helped run the Express station) and eventually married the sheriff. Melissa Leo has been on three of my favorite tv shows ever (this one, Homicide, and Treme). Maybe my obsession with mail and sending postcards is connected to my love of the Pony Express and the Old West. Some of you might even be the lucky recipients of Pony Express postcards. You just don't know.

Tomorrow we head to Detroit. It will be another long day and it will bring our total state count to 10 by the time we get to Michigan. Here are some more fun photos from today. Good night!

Haul and Oates enjoying Nebraska

Scott and "Paul" at a truck stop in Grand Island

The Gateway to the West