my ass is bluegrass

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Several people have been wondering what country I am in now, whether or not I sold Sara into the white slave trade, etc. Well I am in the United States and no one would buy that damn skinny useless thing but don’t think I didn’t try my hardest.

Yeah, we ran outta money.

Let's see. Upon returning I played fourteen games of trivial pursuit, worked crew for my dad’s show, watched Shakespeare in the Park's Taming of the Shrew with Michelle, spent some quality time with Jean, and decided it was high time I get my jobless ass to my new home.

I had planned to drive myself the thousand miles from Boston to Louisville. Seems simple enough.

Of course, nothing is ever simple.

On top of the very long list titled “Things that scare the shit out of Kelly” is driving. Drowning, shark attacks, marriage, and driving. Oh, yeah, plus watching The Shining at home alone. Won’t ever do THAT again.

Besides the car accident that robbed me of my spot in the 2000 Boston Marathon and my sweet little Murray the Mercury (totaled, never to be seen again) I am just plain not good at the whole depth perception thing. And let’s face it, depth perception helps when operating a large steel/plastic/rubber encased moving object large enough to fit five human beings and capable of exerting the power of multiple horses.

Several family members and friends made the little wincing worried face when learning of my plan to pack my entire apartment into a rented car and drive from Boston to Louisville, Kentucky. Whether or not the faces alluded to anxiety about my driving skills or my decision to relocate south of the Mason-Dixon is up for debate.

I sat in the front seat of my Ocean Blue Pontiac in the Hertz garage and adjusted the mirrors for about fifteen minutes. On the classic “Very Poor - Poor - Fair - Good - Very Good - Excellent” scale I was feeling Fair about my driving ability. Meaning I had a FAIR amount of faith that I remembered how to do it. So I pulled out into Park Square in downtown Boston and pretty much couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, that passed. By some miracle I arrived at my door in Cambridge unscathed.

Other people might have packed their apartment in advance before moving a thousand miles away. Me, I like to be different. I like to plan as little as possible and bitch under my breath for three hours while I trek up and down three flights of stairs in 87 degree/115 percent humidity July with plastic bags stuffed with things I think I might want/need on a day to day basis in my new home.

Things I packed first, the essentials, not to be forgotten:
1. Three editions of Trivial Pursuit (Stan will not let me escape the admission that I lost a game of TP Vol. 6 earlier this evening. But, you know I let him win out of pity for the elderly.)
2. The complete contents of four large bookshelves
3. Wine glasses
4. Martini glasses
5. Margarita glasses
6. Stainless steel drink shaker
7. A red sox hat

Things I forgot:
1. Toothpaste
2. A pillow
3. Nearly all of my shoes

Efficiency, I know her not. I know that; I accept it.

I left Boston at around 2 pm on Monday afternoon. I arrived in Louisville 28 hours later. Between those hours I stopped at three state parks, one national park, four gas stations, one diner, one Subway sandwich shop, one Fresh City, two Dunkin Donuts, three rest areas, Welcome Centers for New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Kentucky, and approximately eleven bathrooms. During the wee hours on Tuesday morning, still dark, basically alone on the highway, every few miles sported another one of those “Deer are more likely to cross the highway now” signs. So of course, without any cars to be afraid of, I began “seeing” shadows that “were” deer. Combined with mentally replaying any girl-alone-on-the-highway slayer movie scenes and my Monster Ballads CD, I kept myself alert and awake until around 4 am.

Since Sara’s and my flirtation with homelessness I have found that I can sleep in positions/on surfaces I formerly would have dismissed as unfit for rest. So I put my backpack in the front seat and burrowed into the resulting hole in a mountain of haphazardly packed stuff. I woke up two hours later with my face resting on the corner of a picture frame and a pile of hangers. Guess I was tired.

I drove for a half hour and decided I needed a bit more rest. The sun was just barely up so I pulled off onto the next exit marked with a state park sign and drove into Mt. Gilead State Park. I napped on a bench by a waterfall, walked an easy trail, and took a few pictures.


I drove another half hour before realizing I needed breakfast.

After that I drove another half hour and stopped to pee.

The length of the trip is probably making more sense now, yes?

I arrived on Highland Avenue at about six on Tuesday night. Had I forgotten which house it was, I could’ve easily found it by the John Kerry for President, Yarmuth for Congress, Save Social Security, Don’t get Bushwhacked yard sign collection. Needless to say, I’ve been here two days and have already made an appearance at the local pub trivia night and been out with Stan canvassing for the Democratic Party of Louisville. I have also met two members of Stan’s Retired Gentleman’s Club (one of whom is a thirty-some-odd-year-old woman, but I didn’t ask any questions) and another member of Red Sox Nation who needs to be reevaluated because he thinks he might pick a new underdog team to support until the itch for the series ratchets up to pre-2004 levels once again. Pitiful! Tomorrow I believe we are headed to a music/art/activism fair, Actor’s Theater to see a play whose name we can never remember but always manage to recall that the title has the word “sex” in it. On Monday I am going to see Josh Ritter at Headliners Music Hall, about which I trust Sara is very jealous (really the main reason I am going at all).

Job hunting begins on Monday. My resumes are stacked proudly on the coffee table, poised and ready…


Keep in touch, northerners!

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Comments

[anonymous]

Welcome to Jelly land. Don't piss off the natives too quickly. And thanks for answering my question about your locale. I will now promptly plan my exit from the country.

[Minna]

.......So....um......where is Sara?

[Dad - temporarily]

the situation
Sound spretty good. Great writing as usual and made me laugh especially that you forgot most of your shoes. Hope job hunting goes well. We lost internet for a day or so. Sara and I are hiking in a few minutes. So, here I am hard at work on getting grants for next year and wondering just how in the heck I might make a living. My highly educated daughters plan to travel and work possibly, possibly not one of these days.