Summer Road Trips: Las Vegas, 1989

Who takes their kids to Las Vegas?

My parents.

Our “vacations” consisted of piling into the car to leave no later than 5:00 a.m. for the twelve hour drive from the top of Texas to the bottom. That’s how we explained it to one another. A long, boring, hot drive to Dad’s hometown to visit his side of the family. If we were lucky, we’d squeeze in a trip to the beach at Corpus Christi.

The summer of 1989, we ventured out on another twelve hour drive. Long, hot, and boring, but this time to Las Vegas.

Why?

I was 17 about to begin senior year. I had an attitude I kept to myself because backtalk wasn’t allowed and I didn’t push buttons. At least not those belonging to my parents. Siblings were fair game.

Mom and Dad visited Las Vegas a few times with their friends. This summer they decided to take us along on The Great American Road Trip along Route 66. Dad gave me a quick overview about the history of the Mother Road. A road is a road and twelve hours on it wasn’t my idea of fun nor a good history lesson.

I’d share the backseat with one of my two sisters, Angie and seven year old brother Anthony. Aida got to stay with Nana and fly in with Uncle Danny later, to give us a little extra room in the back seat. Lucky.

Still, that meant sweaty bodies, body odor, burping, elbows to the ribs, Dad’s Tejano music, our bickering, and Anthony’s head, but mostly his entire body eventually rolling all over us girls for the road trip nap. For whatever reason, we left well past 5:00 a.m. because the sun was bright that morning. I stayed awake to scope out the scenery.

Flat and treeless. Because we went west instead of south, I hoped for something other than cotton and cornfields. I thought once we passed Texas into New Mexico, I’d see a drastic change. Nope. More of the same. This is going to be a long day.

Road signs announced our route, but they didn’t mean much. How many more hours made more sense.

Two hours later, we stopped in Ft. Sumner, New Mexico. “This is where Billy the Kid is buried,” Dad announced.

“Let’s go to his grave so I can spit on it!” seven-year-old smart-alek brother quipped.

“Shut up!” us girls started.

We eyed souvenirs, but Mom reminded us we have a long way to go. If we get something here, we won’t get anything in Las Vegas. We piled back into the car and headed west. Unfamiliar towns came and went.

Approaching Arizona, Dad announced a surprise. We’d stop in Flagstaff for the night and visit the Grand Canyon the next day. This was the highlight of the day. Las Vegas wasn’t my idea of a great family trip, but the Grand Canyon? Movies and TV shows were the only way we’d ever seen the Grand Canyon. The Brady Bunch road trip was a favorite.

Our ears perked up and besides the excitement of seeing–and not spitting on–Billy the Kid’s grave, we were now on the lookout for proper ghost towns. But before the Grand Canyon, there was Petrified Forest National Park…

The Summer of Why the Hell Not?

It was there embedded in my own words-from my last post-and it took you all to find it for me. I’m grateful; thank you!

I’ve been why-the-hell-notting for a while. Getting “older” and (sometimes) wiser, finally has done it, along with advice from my brother-in-law. “Might as well enjoy all you can. If you’ve gotta pay for something, why the hell not? You can’t take it with ya!” There have also been too situations hitting too close that make you rethink why you do certain things.

Certain thing number one: being overly cautious. Relax, live, and have fun! I’m a natural worry-er which competes with being a warrior and chasing thrills. My kind of thrills don’t sucker punch you with adrenaline like bungee jumping or sky diving. It means not overthinking details. Just roll with it and see what happens.

Certain thing number two: I work hard and do my best to live below my means. However, if I want something, I save for it and do my best to stay out of debt. We’re now able to afford some activities that would’ve been impossible years ago. Might as well use some and enjoy it.

I’m not a huge country music fan, but come on, George Strait? I grew up in small town Texas, his songs on repeat in the back of the bus on our way to Friday night football games. I checked for tickets on concert day, finding reasonably priced floor tickets. I checked in with hubby and asked if he wanted to go. If not, I’d go solo.

Why the hell not?

We didn’t have Friday night plans. S. spent quality sibling time with E at his apartment.

Great concert!

Certain thing number three: Try it, you might like it. A friend invited me to play pickleball with her, her boys (who were patient with my lack of skills), and another close friend. Despite almost melting in the sun, we had a great time.

I don’t like FOMO, but I’ve also learned to enjoy JOMO (the joy of missing out), but often I miss out too much in favor of keeping up with household tasks. Uggg…

When hubby found tickets to a UT baseball game a couple of weeks ago, he pulled the same trick. Sunday night 8:00 start time. Ooh, that’s late.

My self-talk consisted of Nope. Just go. It’s summer break. No Sunday scaries. No waking up early for work on Monday.

We went. They won. I had a great time. We got home well after midnight.

There isn’t a big vacation planned this summer. However, I’ll see where why the hell not? takes us.

Rush Hour

Coffee mug and water bottle go on my desk, work bag underneath. Power on my laptop, desktop, and the computer dedicated for making student ID cards. Flick on three of the five light switches. New LED lightbulbs glare like the Arctic tundra, so one gets flicked off. Power on three computers kids use to search for books. They are lined up outside, ready for me to let them in.

They know by now to wait a bit until everything is up and running and make two lines to sign in.

I quickly scan email as kids get settled in their morning chats about books, browsing their favorite sections, and swapping books that won’t make it to the book return because BFF has to have The Summer I Turned Pretty before anyone else can get it.

Subject line: Ms. S’s classes will be in the library today through 4th period

Um, no. That was yesterday. Ms. S. didn’t show up. I check my schedule. I check my calendar. I check my inbox for an email several weeks ago asking for availability. Glitch on my part. I set the wrong date.

Major glitch: I scheduled a lesson with a teacher. In the library. For today.

I email Ms. S asking if she can keep her kids in her classroom for 1st period then come down later. I send the second teacher a chat explaining my issue. Call me asap if you see this.

The line for checkouts is getting longer. I scan ID badges and books. My phone rings and I explain my mess up. “I can go to your classroom instead.”

Issue averted. Ms. S walks in, oblivious to my email as I explain myself. I gather my materials and head to the classroom.

Rush hour is an understatement. This was all in a nice, neat 30 minutes before the bell rings package.

Midterms

Waited in line an hour and a half
small talk about
middle schoolers
bubbly volleyball girls
giggle over who knows what 
on their phones
slipping out of their slides
into their court shoes
more chats
about precincts
changes
gasping "oh no!" 
as a voter is led
to a QR code
which reveals
where her vote
will count
"all that time in line..."
an attendant
reminds everyone to make 
sure they're
in the right
place
"stand behind the blue line, please"
almost there
"three more people"
and another set of lines
"should've voted early
but it always sneaks up on me
then I wind up
voting on
election day"
I.D. is ready
verbally confirm the address
"paper"
and the printer needs a refill
one ballot is printed
for curbside
mine is next
until it isn't
printer insists it's out of paper
when it's clearly full
I want to kick it
the next printout 
*fingers crossed*
is mine
bubble in, like in school
just don't get a detention
"I only went to the principal's office once
do you know why?"
I keep bubbling
"I wrote love letters to my French teacher!"
another line?
not for me
paper ballot is a fast pass
to the feeder
grab my sticker
"thank you"
I Voted

The Last First: Flat Spidy

One of the last things I did for the first time, aside from riding a train to New York City, was making a paper doll. One of my sisters, we call her Spidy, wasn’t able to join us on this trip. Disappointed, she made a suggestion that could work.

“Maybe you can turn me into Flat Spidy!”

So we did.

Angie brought construction paper and markers. I planned to make Flat Spidy the night before departing, but it became impossible. So there I am at our Airbnb scrawling out my most second grade looking drawing of Spidy, flattened so she could join us while riding in my bag.

Join us, she did. At the train station, Danny, our funcle asked a guy named Eddie about tickets. He tinkered on a machine others were grateful he was fixing while he gave us travel tips. In Texas, we pretty much only drive everywhere. We chatted about visiting places that aren’t conducive to urban hiking and public transportation. Great guy. Once I pulled Flat Spidy out of my bag, he about lost it.

“Whaddya mean? Of course I’ll take a picture! This story just keeps getting better. I’ll even let her wear my hat.” A die-hard Deadhead, that’s exactly what he did.

Her company added an element of playfulness we didn’t expect. Taking care not to get her soggy in the rain, we missed some photo ops, but it was one of the best ways for her to be present. In the evenings, we sent updates of her travels. Next time, we hope none of us need to become flat versions of ourselves to take that sisters trip we’ve been trying to make happen.

The Last First: New York Public Library

I happened across a great little book by Irene Smit & Astrid Van Der Hulst called Know Yourself: A book of questions. Actually, I’ve purchased copies of their other books, chock full of hygge: paper crafting, letter writing stationery, mini-notebooks, book marks, postcards, sketching ideas, tips for relaxing and self care. My Amazon feed suggested it. I bought it. One night I popped it open, you know, to relax and perhaps learn more about myself. I answered the questions without writing anything down and realized these are fantastic writing prompts.

Since it’s cozy season (anywhere else but in central Texas where we’re still at 90+ temps), I’ve decided to turn down the AC and attempt to create cozy fall vibes.

It starts with Gilmore Girls. Last fall, I started watching the series for the first time. My thoughts on Gilmore Girls can be an entirely separate set of posts I’m saving for later–yeah, had I written more consistently I could’ve knocked ’em out by now…

My sister, Angie, is a die hard fall girlie, Gilmore Girls fan, and has dreamed of visiting New England in October.

“So, what’s the verdict?”-Rory

“I am an autumn.”-Richard

I am a summer. I’ll take the heat. Until it’s almost November when cool weather should be the norm. We chat about making a trip happen. Inspired by Gilmore Girls. My niece, her oldest daughter, joined us. Last week, we finished up our first trip to Connecticut and New York in all of its fall foliage glory.

We arrived on Friday, October 10th. We decided to visit New York on Saturday because we’d soon experience our first nor’easter. A guy named Eddie, who worked on a ticket machine at the train station in Milford, assured us we didn’t need to panic. Cold rain and strong wind. He gave us tips and great conversation while we waited.

The one thing I had to see was NYPL. We walked over and noticed a demonstration. Banned Books Week! I had finished out my work week leading up to this trip teaching all of our eighth graders about intellectual freedom and censorship. I asked for a picture with someone wearing one of my favorite childhood books. We chatted about my work as a librarian.

“Better yet,” she suggested, “would you like to wear it?”

How could I refuse? Bonus points for the last time I went to NYPL for the first time. I also got a library card.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? This question taps my shoulder on days I feel myself falling into the mundane. It also guides me when I-don’t-know-what-to-write-itis strikes.

Recipe Revue, (but not quite a revue)

Last century, in Tiny Town, Texas, our local newspaper regularly featured the photo of a home cook and three or four of their favorite recipes. Most were the sort you’d find in a local ladies’ auxiliary plastic comb-bound publication. Some were off if you followed the recipes instead of only reading them. Misprints or typos like 1 cup of tea instead of a teaspoon of instant tea mix. 1 c. of lard instead of, well, what kind of recipe might one need with a full cup of lard?

People dressed up for their photos. Nothing like today’s influencer photos. These were studio photos with bad lighting in colorless newsprint. No highly styled foodstagram pictures either. Just the recipe and your imagination or actual ingredients and something to eat as a result.

Yesterday, in suburban central Texas, the hubster opened a last century recipe book hunting down an apple cinnamon bread recipe.

“My sister gave me the recipe. I think your mom makes it too,” he recalls as he flips through pages of handwritten recipes.

“My mom got the recipe from your sister when she was in the paper,” I announce.

“Were you ever in the paper?” he asks.

“Not for the recipes. Mainly for nerdy school stuff. Band, honor roll, the regular school activities everyone did because there was nothing else to do.”

“French breakfast puffs,” he mutters as he continues to search.

“Ha! Those were neither puffy nor Frenchy. They’re basically muffins doused in melted butter and rolled in cinnamon sugar. They’re good, but not French.” I recall getting that recipe from one of my friends who was featured when we were in high school. They were a hit with our family, French or not.

He finds the recipe, discovers we’re out of apples, pushes the recipe book aside and searches for one on his phone. Settling for cinnamon bread with pecan strudel topping, he begins mixing.

I wonder what my blurb would say if I were selected today? Impossible, since the newspaper is defunct, but it’s fun to imagine.

Better yet, hubster and I would be the first dynamic duo, breaking with a single person featured. Would each of us take a turn over two consecutive weeks or would we hang out together? He loves cooking, I prefer eating. He’s the cook, I’m the baker. Team Use Every Utensil (him) or Team Clean As You Go? Complex recipes or one pot wonders? Which recipes would we choose? Three each or three of our favorites?

Hubster’s recipes: Tx cheesesteaks on the Blackstone griddle, cinnamon rolls in an hour, carne guisada with homemade corn tortillas, refried beans, and guac.

Wifey’s recipes: Rotisserie chicken taco Tuesday extravaganza, blueberry smash margaritas, tub of salad with olive oil & balsamic vinegar-serving bowl optional. Oh, and maybe a batch of those French breakfast puffs for special occasions.

Conference Prep & Tips

Not parent conferences, but TLA (Texas Library Association) Conference. It’s next week in Dallas and I already downloaded the conference app. I usually do it on the way there.

Our library services department is organized and provides a checklist of everything we need to do before, during, and after the event. This includes the appropriate forms and permissions from admin., budget codes, hotel accommodations, information regarding after hours vendor events, signing up for professional development credit, and copies of forms and suggested items to take (always take an umbrella).

In our TLA emails, there’s a thread regarding ways to prep and make the most of the conference. There are great tips. Pack sandwiches and keep them in the hotel fridge. Pack them for lunch so you don’t have to skip noon sessions. Stuff your bag with portable snacks. Take a large water bottle. Wear good walking shoes. Take a rolling crate or extra suitcase to pack books and swag (many books are gifted by publishers, plus steep discounts the last few hours in the exhibit hall). Dress in layers. Carpool. Take an Uber for a night on the town. Use a slide deck to take notes then share with colleagues.

The ideas keep flowing. I get ready to draft my response, scrolling through to make sure I’m not repeating something. It isn’t there and I begin to draft “Be sure you check the hotel amenities. Pack a swimsuit for the pool and/or hot tub…”

I stop dead in my tracks. Wait…the last few years, my TLA roommate and I have bowed out early from some events and made our way to the hot tub or heated pool. We’re usually accompanied by no one. We’ve encountered the occasional solo lap swimmer or person leaving the hot tub when we get there, but it has usually been quiet. It’s such a great way to relax after a packed schedule and being on our feet standing in long author signing lines, trekking across the exhibit hall, and making it to our sessions.

Grinning, I delete my draft. This one, I’m keeping to myself. We’re not quite ready for a bookish pool party.

Travel Type

I like getting enough sleep. An itinerary is good, but if you lesson plan for a living, sometimes it’s nice to go off the plan.

Play it by ear. Make a (short) list of places or things to must-see or must-do and let the rest fall into place.

I’m not the go, go, go type. Doing as much as possible for a day or two is great, but I like to leave room for a low-key day.

Our plans changed yesterday, so we swapped our Zion trip with our chill out day. The plan was to go Monday, better weather. We spent most of the day there today and went from rain, to balmy, to sunny, to cold, to snow, to mostly cloudy and bearable.

Jackets on. Jackets off. Have the sunglasses on you because you may need them in two minutes. We considered canceling because we didn’t have the right gear, but we did have enough.

Experiencing the views was worth it.

#Twofer Tuesday

Way back in my #college days, there was a sub shop, or was it a pizza place? Taco joint? Anyhow, this place advertised #twofer Tuesday and you’d get two for the price of one. I figured since it’s #SOL Tuesday and March SOL #challenge, I’d write two posts. As if this challenge isn’t enough.

Here’s to post #1, my introduction to making myself squirm in my writing seat a little (#alot) more than usual.

More bang for your buck, here’s the #twofer.

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