THANKFUL FRIDAY

It is currently Wednesday and I’m thinking about Friday’s gratitude posting. When I look out the window from my standing point at my work desk, I have a perfect view of the fountain in the center of the circle drive. More than a dozen robins are taking turns between being at the fountain and the trees that surround the fountain. I have seen people walking outside without coats on and this weekend I’m checking the tires for all two wheeled vehicles. This was never a Fake Spring, but the real deal with an the occasional appearance of Fake Winter. The air feels like Spring and tastes like adventure.

I gave Michael the option of joining me on my Moose Hunt in June and he got pretty excited about hunting mythical creatures. Months ago, I made a plea for a return visit to New Orleans. I know we were just there, but I feel like I didn’t absorb enough aiyee. I didn’t eat enough crawfish or slurp down enough (hardly any) raw oysters. Ever since leaving from New Orleans, I’ve been craving that place more than I would expect. I might love the Pacific Northwest, but I left my soul in New Orleans years and years ago. It has owned a piece of me since I was three. I didn’t have to twist any of Michael’s arms to get him to agree to another visit. That trip is booked and planned and I hadn’t expected to be planning any other trips for the year.

But then the Moose Hunt.

And a weekend tulip festival with my mom and sister.

And some gal camp trips.

And…

And…

I don’t want to spend a lot of money or even travel a great distance, but I want to fill this year up with tiny adventures. I did not know this at first, even though, well before the New Year, I had made some sort of word collage of wants for 2024 and “seeing a moose” and “solo camp trips” made an appearance in this collage. I didn’t really believe that I would get any more proactive than writing those wants down somewhere. I didn’t believe I would ever say the wants out loud. Yet I have said them out loud and in doing so it feels like I have cast spells. This spell casting has me feeling lighter and hopeful. There have been times when the thought of planning and actually going places has felt exhausting. Finding the place to stay. Packing the car. Making the drive to the place. Just the idea of all of it has felt heavy and leaves me in need of a nap. But something is different now.

This feels exciting.

GET ON THE BUS GUS

Yellow

See this Instagram photo by @elephant_soap * 4 likes

Tomorrow morning at four AM, I will be on a Greyhound bus headed to Tulsa. Sounds like I'm writing a country song. You see, while everyone has been posting about the death of Gene Wilder, I have been trying to figure out a way to write about the death of our old family friend, Karen. This is why I'm going to Tulsa on a bus, to pay my respects to one of the women of the tribe who helped raise me. When I was little and had to stay overnight at Karen's house, she would make me teddy bear shaped pancakes for breakfast. The first time she did, I went home and told Mom about it. In fact, I talked for days and days about teddy bear shaped pancakes. This prompted Mom to step up her pancake skills and I woke up one morning to find a stack of elaborate elephant pancakes. When I tagged along to the movies with Janell and Karen's daughter Stephanie, I sat with Karen. She was the one that suggested we hang out in the lobby until Gremlins was over after she noticed me curled up into a a trembling ball on my seat. That movie was terrifying and I still have not seen it all the way through. Karen was also our cake maker. She made beautiful and delicious cakes. She made my wedding cake and Chris and I would talk about our reception for years and how that cake was so good. She was like a blend of Annie Potts characters. Her eyelashes, which I'm pretty sure were fake, were the most stellar eyelashes you've ever seen.

Our plan was to hang out at Randy and Katrina's cabin in Branson this weekend. Driving to Tulsa and back in one day and then turning around to drive to Branson the next seemed daunting. Driving to Tulsa by myself and then traveling from Tulsa to Branson on Friday seemed stupid because then we'd have two cars in Branson. I wanted to take the train but there's not a direct route to Tulsa. I thought about taking a flight but a quick search yielded ticket prices over $200. So, I'm taking the bus. This way, I can ride to the cabin with Randy and Katrina. Michael and the Cabbage will meet us there and we'll all be able to ride back to KCMO together. You know those critical thinking math questions on the GRE where you have a softball team with Susie, Dona, and Jessica and maybe a Samantha and someone else and you have to put them on the field but Susie can only be on the field if Dona is, but can't be on the field if Jessica is? Turns out that life is really a lot like those questions. 

I've ridden my fair share of charter busses in my day. I spent summers traveling around the country with the All State Baptist Choir in a caravan of charters busses, not to mention all the other band and 4-H trips. I have never ridden a Greyhound bus. Everything I know about riding the bus, THE bus, I know from TV and the stories Dad would tell about riding the bus across Wyoming. Because of those things, I have always thought the bus was a slightly seedy mode of transportation reserved for runaways and recently released convicts. My visions of bus riding also include a romantic side. I can imagine sitting, looking out a bus window as it travels across the South West, watching the sun move across the red dirt of a desert. I'd use the cacti as sun dials and we'd occasionally stop for coffee breaks in towns that consisted of one gas station. The soundtrack would include songs like Everybody's Talkin' and City of New Orleans. I imagine that as soon as I step onto the bus that the world will take on a yellow tint, like 70s film and I expect that someone will offer me a homemade baloney sandwich wrapped in wax paper.  

Of course, I realize that my bus trip will most likely be uneventful. With any luck I will have a seat to myself and be able to take a nap, read a book or watch a movie in peace. I will not have to worry about keeping my eye on the road or checking the fuel gage. I will not have to be sure to have the right amount of toll money ready for the toll gate. I'll get to Tulsa with very little effort on my part, but the imagined story of the trip is already writing itself in my head. Maybe I'll tell it to you one day.