more things.

signage.

Hello, Cuidad Juarez.

big ol' Texas sun.

Tucson. My brother's clinic.

Tucson. My brother's inquisitive son.

arizona.

last night. we're in a resort in Phoenix; one last blowout for the kids before we head home tomorrow. we've been caravaning with clay; two priuses heading across Texas, tailing each other. it's been good for us to trade off and spend time in his car. not sure if its been good for him.

there is imminent danger of meltdowns from all of us, me especially. today i whacked the crap out of the side of my head, hitting it hard on the car door, and i broke into tears so fast i even shocked selkie, who is sorta good at that kind of reaction. shit, it hurt. but then it just turned into a massive breakdown about heading home, getting back to our real life, all of the work i have to do, feeling unprepared for the next couple of weeks...all of it, from a simple, clumsy smack on the door frame.

a couple of nights ago i dreamed that it was the first day of school. all of my new kindergarteners were there, as were there parents, and i tried to find the book that i had picked out to read to them. there were shelves and shelves of books all around me, and i kept seeing books that i wanted to buy this summer but didn't, and as i frantically searched for THE book the shelves got closer and closer to me. i kept saying, "okay, we're going to start in one more minute"--my voice getting more and more hysterical--and as i looked behind me i saw the parents setting up a band, sort of good-naturedly taking over the fact that i was ill-prepared. panic set in.

i woke up with my heart hitting my rib cage, sweat everywhere. 

nightmare, as experienced by teacher.

i know everything will be okay. it is okay. life is happening, bills will be paid or not paid, children will go to school unhappily or happily, my body will adjust to van nuys, my heart will go on.  i really should just shut up.  

anxiety gets me nowhere, and makes me really ugly -- and not just because i get stressed-induced cold sores. i like myself a lot better when i am taking things one moment at a time.

so, tomorrow, to home. to dogs who adore us and a cat that disdains us. to our neighbors who know us as the crazy people. to Selkie's imaginary friends. to Milo's unhappiness at not living in Massachusetts. to my big, beautiful kitchen. to dear friends who await us. we are coming home.

if we can just find Idaho. it's our last license plate that we need, and then we are complete.

make a list. cross it off. move on.

(Hotel home. Detritus path.)

a little bit more, y'all.

Austin city.

watching the bats. 

Can't capture how cool this was...

B-fly.

Kayaking Lake Austin.

Austin graffiti.

Austin views.

frog on a bike. 

Okay.

Oh my. Best bookstore ever.

Texas edition.

360 bridge.

Texas sky.

Texas four-wheeling.

austin in our hearts.

after driving for six days, we are at home.

sort of at home.  in austin, where we have been adopted by clay's parents and made to feel part of the family.  the kids have their own bedroom.  we have our own bedroom.  there are places to go to hide from each other.

it is a wondrous thing.

these are good people here.  good, good people.  we are so fortunate.

yesterday we met jinger, clay's grandmother.  it was her 89th birthday.  she told us about her life and made jokes and wore a flower in her hair.  she was beauty personified.

at her party, all of her great-grandchildren and faux great-grandchildren played together as if they had known each other all along.  there were sounds of laughing and shouting and running around; sounds that permeate and connect strangers to each other.  we all shook our heads downstairs, laughing quietly about their antics.

good, good people.

and the wonder of meeting your best friend's best friend from years back, and seeing him say things in just the same way your best friend does.  glimpses of clay from everyone around me.  it was surreal.

we're taking it so easy, it's criminal.  lazing around, reading in the middle of the day; hell, napping in the middle of the day.  we've been driving around beautiful austin and it has truly hit me hard that i could see myself living here, if circumstances were different.  

this is my kind of town.

yesterday we went to the flagship whole foods, the mother ship whole foods, the one that started it all. i know that whole foods is still corporate america and that the ceo has some questionable beliefs and all that, but it is still a good company.  and holy shit, this one is the mecca.  it was huge.  it was beautiful. they had a walk-in cold beer tunnel, and a bike repair set-up outside the store, and a "beans and greens" station in the immense food court.  

my heart swelled.

we also went to a public spring-fed pool--68 degrees year-round--and with the 102 degrees on my skin the water was beautiful.  the good people of austin were all there: hipsters, older couples in speedos, new moms and old moms, lots of tattooed people, gay couples.  we all rejoiced in the water.

we have plans to see the bats and to go to book people and to hit a couple more vegan food joints. we might rent paddleboards on the lake, or go to deep eddy for another cold-spring swim. 

tonight alex and clay will go to the alamo draft house to see a movie, and tomorrow night clay will take me out to see austin at night.  then tuesday morning we'll all head out to caravan to los angeles together.

we're almost there.

in the meantime, austin is our replacement home.  long live the hazelwoods, let austin stay weird forever.  gratitude abounds.

the woad and the weary.

texarkana.  

the last sentence i just said:

"don't do anything to bunny!"

i didn't shower this morning.  i threw on my straw hat and decided to just take the day on as is.  now, looking in the mirror across from the desk in this lovely best western, i realize that a shower may have been helpful.

i look like my car smells.

i'm short-tempered, little-fused.  i have little reserves left in me to deal with these people whom i love so much.

they need to leave me the fuck alone.

we stopped at an amazing bookstore in nashville this morning; independent, glorious, filled to the brim with all kinds of stories.  i could've spent hours, days in there.  instead, i gave the kids ten minutes to make a decision, found a book for the first day of school, and hightailed it outta there before i dropped any more money that i don't have.

we hit up the memphis whole foods for lunch, where despite their protestations of being sick of whole foods, the kids ate happily and we found a drink called "milo's sweet tea".  we drove west, watching as the temperature grew hotter and hotter, finally hitting around 100 mid-day, melting the vegan baked goods we had bought this morning.

the kind of day where the sneakers had to come off in the car; where i apologized for taking them off first, in case they smelled; where my husband asked me if i had socks on; where i rudely said, "do you even KNOW me?  when was the last time i wore socks in the summer?"

simmering, just simmering.

we parked at a rest stop this afternoon to pee, and walked through the enormous, empty restaurant.  there was one trucker there, quietly eating by himself, and the manager going over receipts with one of the employees.  it was eerie.  there were knickknacks to buy, and elton john was playing on the radio (one of his faux-country songs), and "the Big Bang theory" was on all of the tvs.  it was eerie.  did i mention it was eerie?

we spent the morning singing fake country songs.  we laughed a lot.  the kids played drums in the backseat while alex crooned about the stores we passed, and milo came up with brilliantly crooked rhymes.

those were the fun times today.

i'm seconds away from putting on my jammies and crawling into one of the queen beds with my kids.  we're reading "the search for wondla".  i'm reading "the tender bar".  alex is reading "the berlin game". i want this school year to be the year that i read, and read, and read.  always and evermore, just read for my life.  

i need to throw away our television.

tomorrow we head further into texas and hit austin, the town i've been dreaming of.  mostly this is because our dear clay is there, waiting to host us and squire us around the town, but also, i think austin is where i could live.  the listing for vegan foods alone is worth it . . . plus there are bats there.

anyway, tomorrow we drive a bit, then we rest.  we get to settle in for a few days, which makes me glad to be alive.

things are going well.

take me to another place, take me to another land...

nashville.

we're at the point in the trip where i needed to have a heart-to-heart talk with selkie about being more flexible and allowing us to help her.  in tears, she told me that "i just need to be by myself!  i haven't played with my invisible friends in SO LONG! i wish we were at our house and i was in the front yard playing with them RIGHT NOW!"

i so appreciate her need for solitude.

the middle of the trip calls for delicate phrasing, patience and more humor.  when milo yells at his computer from the back seat, telling us for the umpteenth time that "this is so glitchy!" while we curse the makers of minecraft, it is up to us to take deep breaths and find a point ahead of us to focus on.  when he can't find his ANYTHING and starts to panic; again, breathing is encouraged.  and when he asks us to have a drink of our water because his is missing (it's not) and we refuse, telling him to find his, which he doesn't, and then out of desperation drinks from a 2-day old orange juice bottle; it is up to us to find the humor in the situation and not shame him for his incredible laziness or inability to take care of himself.

no indeed.  we just all breathe.

i haven't exercised in five days, and my body is crying out for it.  i'm not good at sitting.  

we've entered that part of the country where people talk different than us.  where they think different, even.  where there is racist chicken (bojangles! famous chicken and biscuits!) and homophobic chicken (chik-fil-a).  there are lots of billboards about meth ruining families, as well as signs ordering to "choose life!" with a picture of a happy, fat, white baby.

oh, we choose life, yes we do.

i admit i take great pleasure passing any car that has a bumper sticker that i don't like on it.  that romney/impeach obama truck yesterday?  see ya, sucka!  "'cause THAT'S how we do it in van nuys!" is our "passing assholes" catchphrase.

i'm sure they are very nice people.  they're just misguided and wrong.

this morning we're heading into downtown nashville to eat at khan's bakery, a vegan joint.  we'll check out the opry by car and then head outta town.  we're making tracks today, en route to get to austin tomorrow to spend a couple of days with our best friend clay.  and to borrow his washer and dryer.

at this point in the trip, we are grateful for cloudy days that give us shelter from the sun.  we're grateful for chain restaurants like chipotle and qdoba, who save our vegan/vegetarian/meateating butts amongst the endless cracker barrels and shoneys.  and we're grateful for firm mattresses in hotels.

i need a chiropractor, and a massage, and about seventeen new cds to listen to.  i'm so old school.

we're gettin' there.  that's what i keep telling the kids.  we're gettin' there.

more scenes from the road. day four.

so hilarious. if you are under 12.

downtown roanoke signage.

more roanoke signage.

abandoned.

taken over.

weather.

babies.

and sometimes, lunch looks like this, courtesy of food lion and the hatchback of the car.

big-ass weather, courtesy of Tennessee and the al gore interstate. 

dispatch.

forgot to mention something about last night.

as we walked up to the lincoln memorial, selkie looked up and saw bats flitting in and out of the light.  milo confirmed the sighting, and the four of us practically swooned with excitement.  forget that one of the most famous statues in our country was steps away from us.  forget that there were hundreds of people from all walks of life enjoying said monument.  

we were rejoicing the bats.

i love bats.  truly.  love, love, love them.  i am in awe of them.  i am in mourning for them, for their decline in numbers throughout the northeast.  we used to be able to stand on my parents' back deck at dusk and watch them chase mosquitoes over our heads.  we'd lay down on the pool chairs and watch "bat tv" for a while.

we haven't been able to do that for a few years.  they've all disappeared.

but last night, there was a small contingent of bats near the lincoln memorial, wisely taking up space by the lights, eating all sorts of moths and bugs, swooping in delight.

it was wonderful.

now we're in virginia, and alex is driving while i write this.  both kids are moaning about how hungry they are, even though we'll be in roanoke in 45 minutes.  they are whining, complaining; i want to turn around and let loose on them.  i want to throw something at them.  something with substance.

instead, i just turned around and told them that i didn't want to hear their voices for a while.

we quarter-assed the air and space museum in dc today.  we showed up in time for lunch, walked a few blocks to avoid the crap in the museum itself, then headed back to the smithsonian.  in the meantime, milo's stomach began to hurt because he ate too fast, selkie complained about her feet hurting, and alex had to run back to the car to feed the meter.

we ended up spending about 30 minutes in the museum, then 30 minutes in the goddamned gift shop, which, i have to admit, was pretty cool.  but still.  did we really deserve to go into the gift shop?  was that an earned treat?  probably not.  but sometimes, you just have to enter the fray, and spend 60 bucks on a book about the elements (for me), a soft, disgusting, gel-filled wiggly worm with planets in it (for selkie), a ridiculously expensive plasma ball (for milo), and an aerobie (for alex).  plus a postcard of amelia earheart for good measure.

we tried to see the mlk, jr. monument this morning, but it is under construction.  the chinese artist is trying to fix the quote that people have been up in arms about, and the whole thing was covered with giant tarps.  which was a giant bummer.

anyway, that was our day today.  we're going to take a chance on a local restaurant in roanoke, and hope that our darling children manage to make it through the meal without complaining of stomachache, lack of hunger, or boredom.

"when are we gonna be there?" selkie just said.

about seven more days, kid.  hang in there.

pictures from the road.

Road food.

Road feet.

Road children.

Road trip faces, various.

Road trip history.

Road trip love.

Finally, road trip madness.