Well, it's the beginning of day 4 of our 2009 Summer Road Trip Extravaganza and we're finally able to write a blog. We were hoping to write one sooner, but it turns out none of our National or State Parks are set up with wireless access yet - of course, there has been wireless at each of the six Starbucks we've stopped at....but we always have to keep moving...we've got a lot of miles to cover. Anyway, here are some highlights of the last few days:

Heidi: I want to take you on a brief "Tour of Restrooms" from our great nation.

Small town, Nebraska - this gas station restroom is not for the faint-of-heart. In this facility, you'll find old food on the sinks, stalls with damaged doors that you have to keep shut with one foot, and possibly two to three cockroaches (one of which may still be alive and moving around just below your feet).

Rifle Falls, CO- imagine you're in the woods and you have to chose between going to the bathroom behind a bush or using a random portapotty. which do you choose? If you chose the port-a-potty, you'd be mistaken. In this bathroom, you'll smell a thick and stale aroma that reminds you of very old leftovers. There will be flies doing their thing around the very top of the toilet. And don't expect to wash your hands after you're done. No sinks in this bano. Next time, go with peeing behind the bushes.

Rifle Gap State Park, CO- if you have a sense of adventure, check out this outdoor restroom. Many campers frequent this facility just for the fun of what lies behind the doors. While you're doing your thing, you'll be wanting to have a nice, secure place to do it in. Not going to happen here. The door has a mind of its own and will not, under any circumstance, shut. not. going. to. happen. You'll never know who or what will try to sneak in while you're going to the bathroom. See? Outdoor living can be fun!

Dylan: The one thing we've done a lot of on this trip is drive. I don't mind driving, and I still don't after we've covered about 1200 miles (and are only half done). However, driving this new stretch of road has led to a few tense moments. First, there was the stretch in Nebraska where our rental car started making a strange whining noise and smelling of burnt rubber. At first I contributed this to the semi next to us, but once we passed it and the smell and sound remained, I began to get concerned. We took the next exit and checked things over...no flat tire, no fluids leaking, not dragging part of a deer carcass, nothing....so we pulled back on the interstate and tried to remain calm over the damage we may be causing to our rental car when we saw a sign - "This mile of highway made with 47,000 recycled tires".... now everything was clear. I'm all for conservation, but.......

Heidi was kind enough to help drive some of this trip. She took on quite a bit of Nebraska - where every mile feels like an eternity - even when listening to the amazing playlist I compiled for the drive. However, when it comes to mountain driving...that's another story all together. I knew I would drive most of this, but I didn't know Heidi would hyperventilate just riding along in the passenger's seat. I don't know if it was the shear drop offs with no guard rail, ramps specifically designed for runaway semi trucks, warnings of falling rocks, or signs telling what to do if your brakes fail, but it was all a little too much for her. I also learned a lesson about turning over the wheel too soon. We were through the mountains and back onto flat ground when Heidi offered to drive. I agreed, thinking I could use some rest. I was just drifting off to sleep when I was awoken by the sound of a loud and pressured "Dylan!" I woke up expecting to see us careening off a cliff or swerving to miss falling boulders, but instead the problem was that there was a mountain, off in the distance, that we might...at some point...be driving in to.

Well, there's a lot more to say, and we'll be sure to write more (especially since we have a hotel for another night). So for now we're going to go lay down on our individual plush pillow top mattresses (they were out of King rooms, and while neither one of us wanted to admit it, after two nights in a tent - after we forgot to bring pillows - having to have a room with two queen beds, one for each of us, actually sounded pretty good).

Have a great day...we will!

It's in the Bag

I haven't been camping in close to 17 years. The last time I went camping, I woke up my dad in the middle of the night thinking I saw an alien in the sky. Things are foggy after that...(and no Dad, the alien did not abduct me and erase my memory). Well, hold on to your seats folks because Dylan and I are getting ready to set out for a week-long adventure filled with CAMPING!

**I promise to write a longer blog about it later, but until then...enjoy the pictures of my favorite part of camping:

Dylan and I just got our new sleeping bag in the mail! I love it soooo much, that I am going to post another picture of me in it. Lucky you!

Yeah for new queen sized extra warm, super cool, amazingly awesome...SLEEPING BAGS!

Mary Kay (Dylan and I are seriously trying to think of a witty title)

Question. What would you do if you were invited to have lunch with a coworker (who just happens to be your Mary Kay rep)? And what would you do if said coworker tells you that she wants to grab some food and talk about the benefits of becoming a Mary Kay rep? If you answered "run like hell", good for you. I should have done just that.

I was excited to have lunch today with an actual human being. I usually spend my lunches eating alone, looking out the window at birds or overly ambitious coworkers jogging during their lunch break. Here's what I had envisioned for lunch today: me. coworker. talk of Mary Kay (very minimal), a fresh salad and key lime pie. Sadly, none of that really happened. Not even the food part. I met my coworker downstairs at the place I work (I'm not authorized to blog about my place of business...neat). She seemed a little preoccupied by something, so I said, "what's going on?" Her reply? "I'm waiting for my district manager to come down and talk to you about being a Mary Kay representative. She should be here any minute."

WHAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I had not planned on talking to some stranger about starting my own business. I had planned on eating a glorious piece of key lime pie. But, being the person I am I said "Oh, okay. Ummm...just so you know, I don't have time to sell Mary Kay." "No problem, it's no pressure...no obligation. She's pretty nice."

Well, "she" walked in the doors wearing head-to-toe pink and carrying a hot pink Mary Kay bag full of products. The three of us walked silently to the backest back, farthest far table in the dining hall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with that, right? Either way, "she" (I'll call her Pinks) started asking about me, Dylan and what products I currently use. "I can tell by looking at your eyelashes that you've been using our Miracle line of mascara!" said Pinks. I just nodded. I wasn't going to tell her that I use regular stuff...I'm just lucky to have freakishly long eyelashes.

Ten minutes quickly passed with her saying things like, "Holly, you'll fit right in with our family." and "Nowadays, women can do anything they want...they just need some encouragement" and "Don't you want to make other women feel good about themselves?" Just when I thought I'd answer with a sarcastic ''no'', my coworker,...the one who arranged this whole sit-and-chat...had to leave. I was left alone with Pinks.

With no food in my belly and my lunch break waaay over with, I finally told Pinks that I had to go. She gave me a personality test and invited me to an Eye Cream seminar that was to be held tonight (I thought writing a blog sounded more fun!). "I'll call you tomorrow to hear the good news!" said Pinks. I even told her that I might be moving to Germany in a few months. "We sell Mary Kay there too!"

Tomorrow I will not answer my cell phone if I see Pinks is calling. I love Mary Kay too much to never buy any again...but now I must find a new sales rep...and piece of key lime pie!

In Honor of Allison

Today's my birthday.  Even though I've celebrated six birthdays without my twin sister, Allison, I still catch myself feeling a little uncomfortable when I say that phrase.  My birthday.  It used to be our birthday.  Our birthday cake.  Our day.  So as I sit at the computer with my eyes welling up a little bit, I want to dedicate this blog to one of the nicest people who ever lived...my beautiful twin, Allison.  Happy Birthday, Big Al.

Some of you reading this never got the chance to meet her.  I can tell you this much...she was a lot nicer than I am.  (I tell Dylan that and I think he finds it hard to believe sometimes).  When I was flat broke, I used to come to the Whistle Stop Cafe in Boone, where she worked part time as a waitress on Saturdays, and order the cheapest thing on the menu--a single pancake.  I think it only cost 89 cents.  I'd show up early with my two bucks (one dollar for my pancake, the other for a tip), find a moderately cleaned table, and wait.  Allison always made sure to wait on me.  She'd say, "what do you want", to which I'd respond, "you know.  My usual."  She'd roll her eyes and bring me a big glass of Dr. Slice and then a pancake.  But that was just for starters.  She'd use her own tip money to buy me a regular meal:  two eggs, bacon, and hash browns.  Then, she'd plop down next to me and eat.  And she never took a dime from me.  Ever.  But that was just her being her.  When she passed away, ALL of her customers from the Whistle Stop showed up to her funeral to pay their respects.  They loved her.  And I know that those of you who never met her would have loved her too.

And she loved being a twin.  She used to get upset if I rejected her idea of dressing up alike.  "C'mon, that's what twins do!" she'd say.  Yeah.  But we were in high school.  And there was no way I was about to change from wearing hot orange pants and Hawaiian shirts to khakis and 3/4 sleeved shirts.  Nope.  Allison used to get angry when people would say "You guys sure don't act like twins."  Like literally.  She'd cry and get so upset!  "What do they know?"  We used to test our 'twin powers' just to prove people wrong.  She used to say "Heidi, what part of my face am I touching?"  I'd concentrate very hard and make a guess.  "Your...nose?  I mean, Your nose!"  Nine times out of 10 I was wrong.  But we liked to test out our twin-ness once in awhile.  

I could go on and on about how wonderful Allison was.  She was taken away too soon, but I am truly fortunate to have known her for 22 years.  Happy birthday, Big Al!  

Opinion Section

Point/Counterpoint

Oh my god!  I actually went to a cat circus! 

 vs. 

Oh.  My.  God.  I actually went to a cat circus.

Oh my god!  I actually went to a cat circus! by Heidi 

Felines riding on skateboards.  A chicken ringing a bell.  The acrocats.  A woman wearing a cat leotard and proudly sporting cat ears.  Those were just a few of the wonderfully magical items I saw when I went to a cat circus.  A crowd of about 100 people gathered into a medium-sized room in the Des Moines Social Club.  Drinks were offered, cat conversations were created, and eyes grew bright with wonderment.  I never thought I'd see the day when three cats literally played instruments in a band called "The Rock Cats".  Izzy was my favorite cat.  He (or she?) was all white and was alright!  She/he leaped on shoulders.  She/he played the drums.  I fell in love a second time (after Dylan) when I saw her/him eat tuna from the stage floor.  I was only slightly annoyed that we had third row seats.  What?  Is it really necessary to let small children and people in wheelchairs have the front row?  C'mon!  The cats rocked my world.  The chicken and groundhog tried to steal the show...(rude much?)...but Izzy and Custard and Isis and the rest of the cat clan held their own and shined like little diamonds on cheap cat collars.  I just wish it would have lasted a little longer and I would have made the MC get rid of the awkward pauses in her stories.  overall, the cat circus was purrrrrfect.  It was the cat's meow!  I was feline good after the show.    

Oh.  My.  God.  I actually went to a cat circus.  by Dylan

So...when I saw there was a  cat circus coming to town I figured, "what nicer thing to do for Heidi than get her tickets."  While I had no doubt that it wouldn't be my cup of tea, I had no idea the hour of sheer horror I was locking myself into by buying these tickets.  To begin, there were grown women in cat t-shirts and cat sweatshirts, grown women wearing fake cat ears, grown women lecturing Heidi and I on only having one cat, and, of course, little children... many of whom looked just as embarrassed to be there as me.  Over the loud speaker came the music...to get you in the mood, I imagine... Cat Scratch Fever, Stray Cat Strut, and something that sounded not to different from the Meow Mix commercial.  The show opened with a warm up from other animals doing amazing tricks, such as  rats walking around, ferrets walking around, and a groundhog placed on a small car and then pushed back and forth across the stage....Amazing!!!  Then came the host, or ringleader if you prefer, in the traditional full body black leotard with purple rhinestone accents....Just like PT Barnum used to wear.  The circus (and that is absolutely an appropriate title for it) that followed was basically an hour of the equivalent of watching you neighbor try to show you the "great new trick we taught the cat.   Come on Felix....push the bell...come on....push it...do it for mama....I swear he was doing it before....come on now....you have to see it, it's the cutest thing....come on...ring the bell.  Wait, maybe if I put a treat on the bell.  now get it...come on....who wants a treat...push it.  Here, Felix, let me help you.  give me your paw....now lets put it on the bell.... 'RING'....yeah!!!!  Good job Felix.  Wasn't that great?"   Well, let me spare you all the suspense...No, no it wasn't great.  However, we did get to watch the ringleader briefly make out with the ferret - though I'm not sure that was supposed to be the memorable part.

La, la, la....

I'll be honest...this blog really doesn't have a point.  It's just a hodgepodge of ideas...a stream of thought...a filter less rant of recent events.  

1.  Right now, Dylan is in the living room watching The Masters.  I quickly learned that's it's not the best idea to ask questions on subjects that I:  A) have no desire to know the answer of, and B) know will require Dylan to make visual aids and diagrams to help me figure things out.  With that being said, I won't bug Dylan and his golf watchin'.  

2.  I attempted to change the background of our blog.  Because I love bird watching so darn much, I figured I'd go with a bird theme.  I did drag Dylan in here a bit ago to have him look at it.  His reaction?  ''Oh, God".  I think that means he likes it!!!!!  

3.  Speaking of birds, Dylan and I did a bunch of yard work today.  Even though I've been a little under the weather, I thought it would do me some good to dig around in the dirt and set out some bird food.  Dylan mowed the lawn (And yes, we did find a dead snake...in the neighbor's yard!).  We then found an old can of re fried beans with a "surprise" inside.  A video was taken of the aforementioned event, and I am trying HARD to have Dylan put it on our blog.  It's not quite ''Cat in the can" level, but it is a good film with drama, screams, and some laughter.  

4  If I don't hear back from my doctor on Monday, a scarier version of myself may make an appearance.  For every one's sake, please cross your fingers that the doc will call!

5.  I secretly want a squirrel for a pet.  I just think they're soooo cute and crazy!  Dylan, if you're reading this...I either want a squirrel or tickets to the Cat Circus for our one-year anniversary.  :)  Just kidding...

6.  Next time I write a blog, there will be a definite point to it.  

Four.   It's a number.  It's my lucky number (as much as I believe in luck).  It's the month and day of my birth.  It's what I always bet on in roulette and power ball.  It's, in a way, what I yell after one of my horrendous slices in golf.  It's the number of horsemen of the apocalypse, a homynym for the word "death" in some languages of Asia, the number of chambers in the heart, the number of dimensions of space time, the number of letters in most swear words, and the number of blocks on each shape in Tetris.  It can be "Fab" in the case of the Beatles or "Fantastic" in comics and, in case you haven't figured it out yet, even has its own Wikipedia page.  However, as of this week, three weeks before my 30th birthday, it has a new significance...it is the number of gray hairs I can clearly and plainly see on my head.  

I don't mind getting a few gray hairs...at least I always told myself I wouldn't mind.  I also told myself I wouldn't mind turning 30.  However, I did find myself gettting awfully nostalgic while I stood there, looking in the mirror, combing through my hair with my fingers (examining each one), as I serached feverishly through my mind for memories of my youth....almost as frantically as I searched for the tweezers.  

This sudden onset of sophistication (that's what I've decided to call it) led to a weekend of reflection and an insightful examination of my youth....by this, of course, I mean that I watched a Back to the Future marathon along with Kindergarten Cop, Tremors, and Star Wars (Episode IV).  Back to the Future was, as always, amazing.  I know some people don't care for Part III...and others even have the gall to say that Part II is the best...but I know the truth.  Part I is the best, a classic, never to be rivaled.  Part III is next...a wonderful enabler of my fantasy of being a cowboy living in the Old West.  Part II...well...Part II I'll allow...especially since it gave us the Hover Board.   

When it came time to watch Star Wars, however, the joy did not last long.  After a mere 10 minutes I had to turn it off.  I love Star Wars....I have since the first time I saw it.   I also love my wife...also since the first time I saw her.  Together, however, they just don't work.  It began with her asking who a particular character was...I said, "that's Han Solo," to which she replied..."Is he one of those 'sky walker' guys?"  I tried to remain calm as I described Luke Skywalker...who is a Jedi, and Han Solo...a smuggler and a mercenary.  The questions continued and I kept my cool ..but then she asked, "is this the one with the baby chewbaccas...I like them."  She must have seen the tension growing on my face as I described the difference between Ewoks and Chewbacca along with who's in which movie, because she finally, after a few more questions, said...."okay, okay.....I'm done asking about Star Trek."  It was at this moment that I realized that I never saw any gray hairs prior to my wedding, six months ago.  Merely a coincidence? 

Well, before I met Heidi, never once was I almost 30, I was merely in my mid to late twenties.  I never once had a gray hair.  Certainly, I never once woke up early to watch CBS Sunday Morning.  I never went to bed by 8:30 nor did I ever eat dinner at 4:00.  At the rate she's got me going, I can only imagine when we'll be eating and sleeping at 70.  I'm sure it's not really her fault though....no....not at all.  Still, if I had to choose...there's no place and at no other time I'd rather be than right now, with Heidi, starting (and I emphasize STARTING) to grow old.  

Plus, I've heard these gray hairs make you look distinguished....though never by anyone who didn't already have them.