Going Home Again - Part Four

Now Playing -  Say Goodbye by Norah Jones

 

Life -  

 When we were headed back to Idaho, I had actually been concerned that the thinner mountain air would cause some difficulty for me. I've never been the best when it comes to breathing - I always feel stuffy, but I'd read that many people have trouble making the switch back after being gone for a while. I did not have that problem. In fact, I loved the thin, sweet mountain air. I'd missed it.

What I had forgotten was how incredibly dry the air is in Idaho. I felt like a sponge on a hot sidewalk as the days passed. My skin dried up, my lips cracked, my nose bled more frequently. Even my hair seemed more brittle. My heel cracked up the back and started bleeding. Now, some of this was my fault. We were spending hours a day in sheds and garages, shuffling through boxes and papers and it was in the mid to high eighties the whole time, as opposed to the sixties and seventies we'd been having in Maine and I wasn't drinking as much as I should have been.

The last few days of our trip were better. Yard sale over, we were still very busy, but it was with visits and friends, barbecues and reminiscing, the good stuff. We had a smaller BBQ at Rich's for closer friends and family and a large picnic at a park for extended family, where I was blessed to see my uncle Maynard (Isn't that a great Western name?) who has been battling illness for a long time - his doctor wrote him off and he keeps on fighting, even growing an enviably wavy head of hair back.My crazy and hilarious Aunt Carroll came too, which was great - She's the second greatest influence on my interest in reading and writing after my mom. And the ever increasingly large Marley Clan sent their representatives. Not everyone - just the cool ones. haha

After the park, on the last night in Pocatello, we got together with some friends and family and went to a late night 3D showing of Avengers, which was spectacular, stopped by my old Walgreens to say hi to Mr. Wizard and stumbled to bed at 2am.

We didn't get out of town the next day until after 11 - had a leisurely breakfast at Butterburr's, loaded a few last things into the dumpster and then slept in the car most of the way to Salt Lake City. We didn't fly out until midnight, but we'd promised Lindsay's brother that we'd spend the day with him and his family. This turned out to be a fantastic idea. We had a low key, laid back evening grilling burgers and playing with a freaky little bunny and headed to the airport.

I love Red-Eye flights - There's something very apocalyptic when you are flying over the lights of a city at 3am and usually, you're one of just three or four people awake on the plane. The problem with them is that I can't sleep during them at all - I have an easier time sleeping during day flights so my next day is a little rough. The flight itself was a typically squalid affair - Delta again - crappy snacks, pokey armrests with the added inconvenience of inconsiderate people in front of you reclining their seats. The thing goes back 3 inches, tops for the person sitting in the chair, yet somehow reduces the amount of space the person behind has by half. I despise it.

When we touched down in Bangor (After a flight in a humorously tiny plane) the difference in humidity on our skin was immediate and jarring. My fingers felt pruny. It was a fine trip and we were very glad we did it, but man, it was good to get home - see our kids and sleep in our own bed again.

Was it all it could be? It was worth doing - we loved seeing family and it was incredibly reassuring to re-pack and go through our shed, but it was no vacation. Next time, we plan to fly right over Idaho - rent a house on the Oregon coast and let any family that wants to see us drive a few hours and hang out on the beach in front of the Pacific with us. That's a vacation. 

The ROUS FAMILY -   

 

 

 

 

Going Home Again Part One

Now Playing -  Hold You In My Arms by Ray LaMontagne
 

Life -  

Smothered Mushroom and Jack Enchilada from The Red Iguana

 

 Since we moved out to Maine, we'd only been back to our home town of Pocatello, Idaho one time, and that was just to buy a car, load it with essentials and pets and drive back to Maine. That was about two years ago, so we finally decided the time was right to head back to Big Potato Country and see our friends and family left behind.

We also left a large portion of our worldly possessions in assorted storage locations throughout the city and we needed to check up on them - make sure they were still safe, go through them for a few essentials we were missing and have a yard sale to get rid of a few we could live without.

Did I mention the Mexican food? We planned to eat a lot of REAL Mexican food, the one thing that above all else, Maine is lacking.

It was not a vacation at all, unfortunately, but we're glad we went. Flying out was about as much fun as you can expect from 10 hours of flying with the worst seats in the plane that was also the longest leg. I spent the time reading a novel about an EMP pulse that knocked out all electricity in the US, sending planes plummeting to their destruction. (ONE SECOND AFTER by William Forstchen) and trying not to overflow too dramatically into my seatmate's personal space. Economy class flight is not that pleasant for a 280 pound man. On our way out the first time, we were lucky enough to fly Jet Blue, a carrier that does a good job of making the flight pleasant. Delta, not so much. Watery cup of soda and .2 ounces of peanuts aside, the planes had no amenities worth mentioning, though the attendants were very nice and friendly. I really do wonder if the cans of soda they offer are heated or if the ice is a quick melt variety to get that perfect level of watery bleah between the cart and your hand. (I have heard high elevations affect taste buds so that could be part of it, maybe it affects carbonation and melting too?)

I tried to wave to North Dakota on the way, but I think some bald man in Kansas ended up being the recipient, alas.

My mom and aunt picked us up in Salt Lake City, Utah (Or, as some clever new shirts abbreviate it - SL,UT) Linz had picked out a small restaurant a few minutes from the airport - Red Iguana. IN a tiny building, behind a door covered in stickers for bands and causes (I wish I'd brought a Sasquatch to add) was some very excellent food. Some traditional and some funky, we really enjoyed the place.

I had forgotten how much I missed seeing mountains filling the background of our lives until stepping out of the restaurant and looking up at the crags surrounding the Salt Lake City Valley. Gorgeous.

Full of Mexican and packing our first of many leftover boxes of the trip, we piled into my mom's bright yellow Ford and headed to Idaho, three hours to the North.

The ROUS FAMILY -   

 

 

 

 

Maine Part II - Laving On A Jet Plane

And for once, I truly do not know when I'll be back again! That's a cool and im,immensely scary feeling, the idea that I may not get back to familiar territory in quite a while...

Of course, the idea of a jet ride was also a bit nerve wracking because I'd just watched a few episodes of LOST, so maybe I was just projecting. Luckily, I was fairly certain the plane would not crash, at least not on a mysterious island, none of my fellow passengers were quirky and pretty enough.

The Salt Lake City airport is a pretty impersonal affair with big, blocky, generic signs everywhere and utilitarian design, but their help are all hoots, as the excited elderly say. Most were upbeat and funny, friendly and competent. Our bags barely squeaked under the weight limit and were promptly whisked away, hopefully to the same jet that we were headed to, and we hit the first real gauntlet of the trip... The security gates.

I have trouble with these things when I'm not packing a bag, swaddled in layers and encased in a splint and sling. After taking off my shoes, the size 14s filling a tray of their own, removing my laptop - its own tray, removing my coat and cell phone- own trays again, my gloves, hat, scarf, keys, rings watch.... Tray, tray, tray.... My assorted collection of trays made me feel like I was getting lunch for the entire cell block. Then they saw my cast and immediately summoned me to the clear plastic box of humility.

I got wanded, wiped, felt up, had to move a certain way, say the secret code (The rolling rock gathers daisies when no one is looking) and allow them to retain one inch of gauze, a tooth and three fingernail clippings.

Then we were through! The remainder of the ride to JFK was pretty uneventful. We rode JetBlue, which is a pretty cool joint. They give you unlimited snacks, have in seat TVs which thankfully, you can turn off, and the seats were pretty comfy. We sat next to a gentleman who was clearly going home from Sundance and may have been someone worth noting, but he was asleep a good chunk of the time, swaddled in $300 Bose headphones or watching 70's era David Bowie music videos. He did have a nice leather satchel and a simple rolling carry-on and moved about easily, as opposed to my 40lb messenger bag and bad wing.

I sat with my broken arm against the window and it worked pretty well, just some jarring, though I kept dropping things down the side and not being able to retrieve them. The nice asian lady behind us found some gum, a book light, a pen and my scarf on top of her carry-on when we landed.

I was interesting to ride a red-eye flight, most of the people slept and seemed quite content to. I tried, but being a non-sleeper anyway, found myself looking out the window at the sparkling towns below and reading quite a lot of the time.

JFK was a better airport. Clean, artsy, full of swank restaurants and stores, apart from the ungodly weight of my bag, we actually enjoyed our layover there, the only time I've been in New York. We had a goofy little omlet at a crowded restaurant and sat and read until our flight left.

The second jet was smaller, but the seats were actually more comfortable. The ride was a bit choppy and we were serviced by a young lady in a short skirt that seemed utterly sick and miserable and a handsome black man in glasses that was pretty hilarious.

I discovered here that I am utterly crap at photos with my SLR and a busted arm, taking a few shots of our first view of Portland Maine as we landed. It was a relatively painless process to rent the car, though I thought it odd that they didn't blink at the idea of renting it to a one-armed man, and we piled into our compact dark red Kia to explore our new home for the first time!


..... To Be Continued!