(omg, we just passed a sign for the largest prairie dog in the world. I hope it’s visible from the road ’cause Ted’s not stopping for anthing, especially a giant p-dog.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, the landscape. It was awesome. Kansas also grows a lot of food. I knew that, but I hadn’t imagined what that would look like. Corn-soybeans-sunflowers-sorghum-cows, repeat as necessary to feed a country all the high fructose corn syrup and McDonalds hamburgers it can eat and pass it forwardto the rest of the world. There wasn’t much…

(another sign–along with the worlds largest p-dog you can see a 6-legged steer and rattlesnakes!!!!)

…food variety in Kansas. Plus, Kansans are Christian and not much was open besides rest stop junk. We found some decent Mexican. Apparently many of our neighbors to the south come to the sunflower state to work in the agriculture industry. In fact, we passed a Tyson chicken processing faciliy that was HUGE. Creepy huge. I will never look at a package of chicken again the same way. We also passed by some of the most enormous grain elevators I’ve ever seen. The most enormous, really. It had probably 20 bins, each twenty stories high.

In contrast to the hill country of eastern Kansas, western Kansas is flatter than…well, not flatter than Illinois but flatter than a pancake, anyway. Ted’s been honking at nothing just to help illustrate the flat nothingness. Here they grow all the stuff I mentioned earlier plus they harvest energy. We passed a large wind farm near Salina and pump jacks dotted the fields outside of Russell.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Kansas town names take the goofy prize and run with it. We are nearing the border and a final salute to this phenomenon–the town of Kanarado. Nice.

A final highlight of the day…hang on, gotta go rock out to “Dont you forget about me” that hit from The Breakfast Club.

I love that song. Anyway, the last great moment of the day I wanted to tell you about was actually the first. Driving west on hwy 56 through Missouri I finally spotted an Osage orange tree. Also called the hedgeapple, this tree is a ghost from the Pleistocene. It’s fruits are very large and are not dispersed effectivly by any living mammal or bird. It’s meant to be eaten by mammoths. I was looking for this tree back in june but couldn’t tell what they were. Now the fruits are large and a noticably bright apple-green. After seeing the first one, I saw them everywhere. I even spotted a honey locust, a favorite of the Pliestocene’s giant sloths.

In about 4 hours we’ll be home. Wow. Home. My new home. It still seems strange to say that. But I’m not one tocount unhatched chickens, so I’m going to go back to singing along to the 80′s at 8 with my sweetie and enjoying the scenery passing by.

Now we’re driving through morning fog with plans to visit some native grasslands in the flint hills of KS. People think of Kansas as flat and boring, but this part is supposed to have rolling hills blanketed with tallgrass prairie. It’s fun to look out over country like that and imagine herds of mammoths, camels, horses, grazing with prides of prehistoric lions stalking a potential kill. After all the traffic and crowded rest stops, an inevitable part of any road trip, this will be a refreshing dose of tranqility and quiet.

Dinner last night was, in contrast, fantastic. Not that it was anything special, but we had fresh, healthy food at a good price. We ate in DuBois, PA. Remember that town, Toombs family? “That’s the town where they left me at a gas station when I was 12,” Ted announced upon seeing it on the map. Apparently, someone noticed, and they turned the Lincoln Contenental back around and they picked Ted back up, right where they had left him. I’d like to hear the car-side of that story sometime.

So now we are driving through Ohio. Think corn fields seperated by tree rows and punctuated by gas station complexes. We are nearly to I-70, a cross country milestone. There is good NPR on, we’re poining out pretty farms, and I’m looking forward to being able to keep up with college football on my iPhone-go Hokies, go Penn State! It looks like we’ll make it to Ted’s parents tonight and we are both anxious to see them so we’re feeling motivated to pile on the miles. I’m feeling particularly cheerful having given up giving up coffee. Yesterday I was plagued by headaches and sleepiness. This morning, with 16 oz (half caf half decaf) of brown goodness I’m chattering away like a monkey and feel alert and upbeat. I was giving up caffeine as part of a concerted effort to get my hypoglycemia under control. But nothing is worth giving up coffee entirely, cold turkey. Well, nothing I’ve encountered yet, anyway.

Maybe. Now that we’ve finally got breakfast, fed the dog, rearranged his bed, cleaned the windshield, and (after three stops) found both ice and diet pepsi, maybe we can get this show on the road.

We spent the night in Rutland, so yeah, we haven’t made it very far. But we had a comfortable night and are ready to go.

We heard on the radio that it’s national macademia nut day and national bright idea day. Ted said, “We should have a macademia nut today.” I said that’s a good idea. Ted said, “So are we done? Oh, i guess we still need to have the nuts.”

Anyway, we are off. National nuts and bright ideas aside, we are declairing this the first day of being in “the inbetween.” A physical and mental place which is, as the name suggests, a no-mans land. Here we are free from responsibility. It’s just us, the road, and free association flowing conversation to carry us across the miles.

Ted: “I’m a master packer!”

me: “You might want to think of a new title.”

Amazingly, and thankfully, all my crap fit in one cube! There was skepticizm and doubt–on my part, from the guys at the U-Pack place, and probably from Ted too, although he assured me over and over not to worry, that everything would fit (this was probably more for my sanity than a reflection of his actual opinion). And upon hearing the joyful news, there was much cheering–on my part, fromthe guys at the U-Pack place (so I’m told) when it was done, and from Ted. Nothing left out or left behind.

I can’t even begin to tell you how totally, amazingly profoundly lucky I am. While I’ve been sitting here in my comforable Herman-Miller Aeron Chair, idily clicking away at my mouse, occassionally checking the New York Times science section, and eating cheesecake  for lunch (thanks Brian!), Ted has lifted, lugged, and packed a 6x7x8-foot pile of my most precisous (and heavy) material possessions not once, but TWICE. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. I am a fortunate woman, indeed, to have found such a generous, caring, thoughtful man who is strong and good at real-life tetris challenges.

And his awesomeness just keeps getting awesomer. Wow.

It could be worse.

I think he’s back on track, and thankfully Brattleboro (his next leg) is a straight shot south. I can serve as ground control for Major Ted.

The car was packed with ease this morning. Its even underpacked, which is great. We all have a comfortable place to sit, there is one layer of stuff in the back and nothing heavy that will shoot forward and decapitate us in an accident; the driver can see clearly out the back and out the sides. Dad would be happy with that.

The couch–the most awkward and heavy item–is already downstairs, waiting in the mudroom. All the preparations seem to be paying off. Aside from a million (give or take) trips up and down the stairs, packing the truck, and subsequently, the storage container, should be easy.

Hm. Maybe I haven’t explained this part. The part about, for my stuff anyway, you can’t get there from here. Early on in the planning process, Ted calculated an estimate of something like $3000 to rent a moving truck and tow the car out to Colorado. I’m all about recovering and reinvesting, but really, $3000? We can do better. And we did. Ted also found a storage container place that will rent you a 6x7x8-foot “cube” (yeah, I know its not actually cube shaped) and ship it to the townhouse in Longmont, for like half the cost. See? Better. The catch (there’s always a catch), is that they wouldn’t deliver the cube to my door here, in Woodstock. See? You can’t get there from here. Instead–and this was still way cheaper than the truck/car tow option–we rented a truck to haul the stuff to the cube. This is the endeavor Ted’s is currently engaged in.

The truck rental is in Claremont, NH. I live in Woodstock, VT. The cube is sitting in Brattleboro, VT. Not up on your New England geography? Ted’s day looks something like this:

View Larger Map

By the end of the day, Ted and Fischer will have nearly 200 miles on me for this trip.  Says the Major, “This is what happens when your roads were built in the 1700s.”

Now that Ted is (almost) here, this whole thing is seeming quite real and is starting to feel rather exciting-both the roadtrip and the ultimate desTination (little ‘t’ joke for those who have been paying attention). Until now, I’ve been focused only on the imediate tasks, both in wrapping up priorities at work and packing at home. Now I’m starting to take a longer view and am looking forward to scenery whipping by, good conversation, scanning the radio for good stations, and even road food. Road trips ARE fun, especially with fun people. I’m even thinking of lobbying for the twine (Gale makes it sound like a ‘can’t miss’!).

One leg down (Ted’s solo trip out here) and we’re about to start the second. This move is officially under way! Tomorrow, i’ll try to post something about my new job and, of course, updates on Ted’s hectic stuff packing, schlepping, and repacking saga. Until then…

“When I am really paying attention I see my thoughts, feelings and circumstances change around me like weather. I cannot will them to come or go, though not for lack of trying.

You can’t take it with you.

Doesn’t everything on earth that arises also come to pass? Then, while I am here, shouldn’t I embrace every change as evidence of my current good fortune – that I am alive to experience change?

I think so, anyway.”

[from Rilke's Book of Hours: by Anita Barrows, translated by Joanna Macy]