Well, I'm a programmer by trade and a gamer by night ,so I pretty much already am an inanimate object. If hemorrhoids were hundred dollar bills, I'd have money out the wazoo.

I rode my bike to work this morning, for the first time since May. I figured since the dog woke me up forty minutes before my alarm was set to go off, I might as well take advantage of the extra time.

By the way, if you’ve never been jolted awake by a wet nose repeatedly smashing into your hand, you really ought to try it. Or not.I took my ride nice and slow, so as to avoid another lying-down-on-the-sidewalk incident. Halfway through the ride, I discovered that my normal route was closed. I foolishly decided to try to find a shortcut and ended up going through parts of Eau Claire I’ve never seen before – and never want to see again. I passed run-down, abandoned houses with open doors creaking in the wind; clothing and trash strewn throughout yards and streets. For a moment, I thought my detour had taken me through Detroit

I’m fairly certain I rode past the Blair Witch’s house. It was a little, stone house, barely visible through the overgrown shrubs and trees that surrounded it. The skulls decorating the doorway were an especially nice touch. I would have stopped to take a picture but

a) I was already late for work, thanks to my detour.

and

b) You don’t mess with the Blair Witch.

We spent the majority of the afternoon at Whidbey Island’s beaches, where we skipped rocks, built driftwood forts, collected sea shells, and turned over rocks in search of crabs. You can take the boy out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the boy.

In between visits to the beach, we stopped at the cemetery where my grandparents are laid to rest. It was my first time visiting my grandfather’s grave. Unlike my previous visits to pay my respects to my grandmother, I felt a sense of peace, seeing both of them together again. It had been far too long for both of them and picturing their reunion makes me smile.

We finished off the day with dinner, dessert, and some downtime back at my sister’s place. Back at our hotel, I finished The Name of the Wind (Kingkiller Chronicles, Day 1) before turning in for the night. Very good book. Highly recommended.

We had a busy schedule planned for day six, so we got up early, repacked the van, and met up with my sister’s family.

Our first stop of the day was to visit my daughter from my previous marriage, whom I hadn’t seen in ten years. I think I’ll refrain from sharing the details of the visit. I’m going to be a bit selfish and keep that memory for myself.

After our visit, our little caravan continued on to Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo, where we spent the remainder of the afternoon. To be honest, the day was a bit of a blur. I vaguely remember seeing a hippo and doing immature things to a bronze statue of a snow leopard. As the day wound down, we said our goodbyes to my sister’s family and began our return trip to Wisconsin.

We spent the night just outside of Spokane. We might have made it farther if not for the fact that Washingtonians seem to have an aversion to using their headlights and their gas pedals. Throughout our stay in Washington, we were consistently driving five miles under the posted speed limit while being surprised by ninja vehicles as they leaped from the shadows.

Day seven was all Montana.

All.

Day.

Long.

I’ve decided that the rest of the United States is just a suburb of Montana. It is the state that never ends. Not even unhealthy amounts of Red Bull, Sugar Babies, and Godsmack could compete with Montana’s expanse of sleep-inducing highways. After about the fourth time I nodded off, I finally conceded that perhaps it would be safer for all parties involved if Dawn did some of the driving. There’s a joke there somewhere, but Montana has rendered me incapable of lucid thought.

Our final night of motel-living was spent in a tiny town on the Montana border, called Wibaux. My first thought, upon hearing the pronunciation, was, “Wibauxs wobbaux but they don’t fall down.” If you get that reference, congratulations; you’re old.

Having just finished the slimiest shower I hope to ever encounter, I’m now going to attempt to find a wireless signal strong enough to post this blog entry. With any luck, we’ll be home in time to sleep in our own beds tonight and wash away the Montana residue in our own shower.

Day three of our trip was fairly uneventful which, when traveling across the country with four children, is generally a good thing.

We stopped at a rest stop just east of the Rockies where the kids discovered a community of friendly prairie dogs. There were dozens upon dozens of them and they would come right up to the kids and eat out of their hands. Occasionally, they would even climb onto the kids’ laps or shoe tops. It took me quite a while to tear the kids away from their new friends and load them back in the van. I half expected a prairie dog stowaway to accompany us to Washington.

We reached the Washington border around dinner time and a familiar weight settled on me. I love The Evergreen State, but it carries quite a bit of baggage for me. Estranged friends; an ex-wife and her family; the small town where I grew up, with its ghosts and mixed memories. Leaving the security of home to return to my old stomping grounds is always a bit of a doubled-edged sword. Dawn was ready with some comforting words of wisdom however, and managed to relax me a bit.

When we reached eastern Washington, I decided to look up a family that had played a pretty pivotal role during my late teens. Thanks to the Internet and my iPhone’s GPS, I was able to locate their somewhat hidden property. Unsure of how I would be received after all these years, I chickened out at the last minute and steered us back to the interstate.

One thing I’ve noticed since being back in Washington is the increase in the hippie population. The last time we were here, a few years ago, the hippies had just begun their migration from Washington’s southern borders. Now, it appears they’ve mounted a full-fledged invasion. Being fairly well-versed in the tactics necessary to combat a zombie invasion, we found a safe place to set up watch for the night, I Am Legend-style. I figured the principles of hippie combat were largely the same, since hippies are basically just zombies in tie-dye. Our precautions paid off and we made it safely through the night.

Day four began with my now customary frappe and a trip through the Bavarian village of Leavenworth. Nestled in the shadow of the Cascade mountains, all the businesses in Leavenworth have been fashioned with old, Bavarian-style storefronts that give the entire town charm. If you’re ever out this way, I highly recommend driving through.

Leaving Leavenworth, we proceeded through the Cascades, by way of the beautiful Stevens Pass. Waterfalls, rivers, trees, and amazing rock formations accompanied us through the mountains.

The beauty of the mountains was quickly forgotten when we proceeded to get lost in Everett and waste an hour trying to find our way out of the traffic-congested city. Eventually, we escaped and made our way on to the ferry that would take us across the water to Whidbey Island.

We found it a little curious that our ferry ride had an armed Coast Guard escort. We’re told they were running routine drills. Regardless, I guess we should be grateful that the Washington state ferry system is in no immediate danger from Somali pirates.

We eventually reached Coupeville, the small town where I was born and where my sister’s family lives, in what used to be our grandparents’ home. It was wonderful to see everyone again: my mother, my sister and her husband, and my two-year-old niece, Sydney, whom I hadn’t met before.

I still wasn’t entirely convinced that they were an upgrade from the lure of Tombstone, Arizona, but Sydney changed my mind in short order. She is a ball of adorable, wrapped in a candy shell of cute. She instantly won her cousins over and they all had a ball playing together. Sydney may not be Doc Holliday, but she can be my huckleberry any day.

I started the day with another large carmel frappe from McDonald’s. They are 680 calories of liquid crack and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a twelve-step program and a personal trainer when we get home.

 We were pretty tired of hearing, “Are we there yet? When will we be in Washington? Where are we going now? How long until we do something fun?” So we instituted a no questions policy. It was only marginally successful in stemming the tide of constant inquiries. Distracting the kids with movies turned out to be a more effective tactic. It also lead to some comic relief. While watching The Little Mermaid, Abbie and Caleb had a conversation about the size of King Neptune’s family. Because they were both wearing headphones, it got a little lost in translation.

Abbie: “He has seven daughters.”

Caleb: “That’s not that much. I only have two dollars.”

Abbie: Nods happily in agreement.

We crossed the Wyoming border and decided to visit Devil’s Tower. The gift shop was a treasure trove of old west memorabilia. Being a fan of the old west, I tried to convince my traveling companions that we should abandon visiting my family in Washington in favor of heading to Tombstone, Arizona. Caleb was on board with the plan, but everyone else was appropriately disgusted with my lack of family loyalty. I tried to sway them by suggesting that we might get to see a recreation of the gunfight at O.K. Corral, but to no avail. To my credit, I only pouted for a dozen miles, or so.

We passed through Cody, Wyoming, on our way to Yellowstone National Park. Every time we are in Cody, I’m tempted to just stop driving and put down roots. If I ever get the opportunity to choose a retirement location, Cody is a strong contender.

Yellowstone was the highlight of the day and, so far, of the trip. We saw six bears, a beaver, a fox, various elk and deer, one condescending park ranger, numerous projectile-pooping buffalo, and a swarm of monster mosquitoes that attempted to abduct our children.

It was dark by the time we made the 81 mile trip through Yellowstone, so we decided to buck the odds and try to get a room right outside the park. Apparently, our previous night’s accommodations had earned us some karma credit because we were able to secure the last available room at Yellowstone Village Inn. The rooms are beautiful, spacious, and comfortable. I swear I heard a chorus of angels singing when I opened the door.

I am currently writing this blog entry from the comfort of our king-sized bed. I’m seriously considering handcuffing myself to the frame and refusing to leave.

In the unlikely event that my family can get me out of my new found Shangri-La, we should be able to reach Washington by nightfall.

Prior to learning that Grape Vines are not fit to carry the Vines’ family name, I asked Dawn to alert the world of their presence, via the foursquare iPhone app. Since Dawn acts as navigator on road trips, it probably wasn’t the best idea to divert her attention from the map. Fortunately, she realized I had made a wrong turn was headed to Iowa before we got too far off course. Her faith in my navigational prowess shaken, Dawn vetoed my impromptu plan to take us several miles out of our way to visit a town named “Wells”. I vowed to someday return and investigate what lies within Wells’ mysterious borders.

At our next stop, Dawn spied something on the front of the van. The Seppuku Sparrow had embedded itself in the grill. Since I have a strict ‘no hitchhikers’ rule, I extricated the feathery carcass with the aid of couple of sticks fashioned into crude chopsticks. The kids were not pleased that I had killed one of God’s creatures. I tried explaining that the one-armed man was actually the guilty party, but they weren’t buying it.

We reached Wall, South Dakota around dinner time and decided to grab a bite to eat at Wall Drug. I nearly dumped our two trays of food on my way back to our table. In hindsight, I wish I had. To say the food was bad would be a gross understatement. My cheeseburger resembled a science experiment gone terribly wrong. It was actually melting. Not the cheese, mind you. The burger. It was oozing grease and various unspeakable toxins. I’m of the opinion that all meals served at Wall Drug should come with a t-shirt that reads, “I ate at Wall Drug and all I got was this explosive diarrhea.”

Our stomachs lecturing us on poor life choices, we took our leave of Wall and made our way to Mt. Rushmore. Apparently, seventeen hours on the road is too long, as evidenced by the twins’ meltdowns under the disapproving glare of the granite presidents.

We cut our excursion to Rushmore short and left to find a motel for the night. Our search took us through the historical town of Deadwood. It turns out that Deadwood is South Dakota’s version of the Bermuda Triangle. We left Deadwood and drove for twenty minutes only to re-enter the town from where we had started. I felt like we were in the movie “Groundhog Day”. Cursing the clever city planners who had designed the surrounding roads to demoralize tourists into becoming permanent residents, we eventually found our way out of the Deadwood Vortex.

Finding a motel with vacancy turned out to be equally frustrating. Out of sheer desperation and exhaustion, we settled on the first place that had an available room. I suppose we should have realized that any establishment named “Tony’s Motel” was unlikely to have five-star accommodations.

Our dive of a room was uncomfortable and quite possibly the scene of several murders, but we were too tired to care. We dragged our weary bodies into the unnaturally hard, squeaky beds and attempted to get some sleep. Faith had other plans. Her cold was bothering her and she spent a good portion of the night whining, crying, complaining, and sneezing. Combined with the 3 a.m. penance demanded by my cheeseburger abomination, our first day of travel ended on a less-than-restful note.

Now, you should know a couple of things about me. I hate crowds. And I don’t particularly enjoy water recreation. Dawn and the kids had been looking forward to this excursion for weeks though, so I sucked it up and resigned myself to a long day.

Not long after entering the park, I realized a few things:

• I’m really looking forward to the state-wide smoking ban in July. Although, I’m not sure how much of a difference it will make. According to the Mt. Olympus website, smoking is already against the park rules. I’m guessing the dozens of considerate leather-skins that lit up around us didn’t get that memo.
• There are a lot of mid-westerners regretting their tattoo choices. This is really more of an assumption on my part. But seriously, I haven’t seen that much bad art since kindergarten craft time.
• Water parks are excellent for your self-esteem. If you’re even a little self-conscious about your body, I highly recommend a trip to the Dells. I guarantee you will see literally thousands of heavier, less attractive people. For every one hard-body that makes you wish you had gone easy on the Krispy Kremes, there are at least four portly park-goers whose bathing suits are screaming for a quick, merciful end to their suffering. Unless of course, by some stroke of extreme misfortune, you happen to be the heaviest, ugliest person at the park. In which case, we all have you to thank for the ego boost. You deserve a tiara and another piece of cake.

After finally acknowledging that I was not even in the top 25 percentile of people at the park whose hideousness would cause instant blindness, I decided to join the rest of the fatties in the wave pool.

Before venturing in to the diseased stew of humanity, we applied liberal amounts of sunscreen to every nook and cranny. My level of paleness goes beyond my English and Irish ancestry. I’m convinced there had to be some Transylvanian in the family tree, somewhere. Not even SPF 60 could prevent me from bursting into flame the second I stepped out of the shade.

I will have to admit, I did enjoy playing with the kids in the wave pool. Right up until the point when somebody’s escaped Band-Aid floated by my leg. That was our cue to call it a day.

In the end, our water park trip proved to be a lot of walking, waiting, and burning for very little pay-off. When we got in the van to start the trip home, Dawn turned to me and said, “I don’t think we ever need to do that again.”

It was music to my charbroiled ears.

Hopefully, this will be the last time I have to copy these to the Interwebz.

You can get to my brand-spankin’ new poetry page here.

Day 1 – Monday, May 19, 2008

Traveling with four small children is a slow process. After 12 1/2 hours, fifteen deer carcasses (I stopped counting when it got dark), $7 in freeway tolls, and three near-misses with elderly people who seemed to think the freeway was their own personal one-lane road, we managed to make it 650 miles to Marion, Illinois.

We wouldn’t have had to pay any tolls at all, but we missed the turn-off we were supposed to take and ended up traveling two hours in the wrong direction (east instead of south, towards Chicago instead of around it), on the tollway, through heavy construction.

Once we finally corrected our heading, the drive was actually quite peaceful and leisurely.

A couple of truths were revealed to us as we traveled:

1. Illinois drivers are even crazier than Minnesota drivers, with the degree of craziness being directly proportionate to the proximity to Chicago.

and

2. Gas is expensive

When we left Eau Claire, gas was $3.79 per gallon. Having been told that gas was cheaper the farther you get from Eau Claire, we waited to fill up until we were running on fumes. As it turns out, we were misinformed. Prices rose steadily, the farther south we traveled, eventually spiking at $4.09 per gallon, in North Central Illinois.

Each time we fueled up the minivan, a little part of me died inside, realizing that a tank of gas could have paid for a brand new video game… and then some.

We had a good laugh when we stopped for lunch, in Janesville, Wisconsin. On the way to the restaurant, Dawn saw a sign and said, “Huh. There’s a “Faith & Dentistry” here.” She said it looked like it must be a combination Christian bookstore and dentist office. As it turns out, the sign didn’t say “Faith & Dentistry,” it said, “Faith & Destiny.”

Overall, the kids did pretty well, though we did get tired of hearing, “Are we at Disney World yet?” and “Can we go home?” and the slightly disturbing, “I think we’re being followed. Daddy, speed up and lose them!”

We’re fairly close to the southern Illinois border and are looking forward to getting out of Illinois. We’re considering avoiding it as much as possible on the way home and going through Indiana, instead.

I would have posted this blog entry tonight, but the motel we’re in doesn’t offer Internet connectivity. When I asked Dawn, “What kind of motel doesn’t have wi-fi?” She replied, “The kind that only cost us $40.” Point and match.

On the agenda for day 2: A trip through Nashville, on our way through Kentucky, Tennessee, and Georgia.

Day 2 – Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Another 12 1/2 hours, another 650 miles.

As we were packing up to leave, we learned that the gentleman in the room next to us was on his way from Florida to Wisconsin. Kind of an irrelevant fact, but we thought it was interesting, considering that we are doing the exact opposite.

Our first stop of the day was Metropolis, Illinois where we saw a giant Superman statue. Dawn fell off a curb and took Faith down with her. Faith skinned her knee and elbow. Dawn skinned her ankles and is sporting a sweet Batman band-aid.

At a rest stop in Tennessee, Faith completed the hat trick by falling off a picnic bench and skinning her other knee.

As we continued to travel south, we noticed the Ihops becoming fewer and farther between, eventually giving way to something called Waffle House. Dawn pointed out one small town that had both an Ihop and a Waffle House. I had to wonder if the employees regularly got together to rumble, like the Sharks and the Jets.

Gas prices also got less expensive as we traveled, with the lowest being $3.58 per gallon, in Kentucky.

Tennessee is beautiful and the people were very nice. If we were ever to look for a place to retire, based solely on aesthetics, Tennessee would be high on the list.

As much as we enjoyed Tennessee, we loathed Georgia. The only things to see were cops and advertisements for strip clubs. It was a lot like playing Grand Theft Auto.

We did stop for dinner at one of the curious Waffle Houses. We’re no longer curious. Or interested in Waffle House. Let’s leave it at that. It’s painful to relive.

We also lost an hour, as we crossed into the eastern time zone.

I had purchased a power inverter, to run the laptop while in the van. It worked well… until we fried all the audio/video components in the van. We are now without radio, CD, DVD, and clock capability. Since that was what we had banked on to keep the kids distracted, the ride home will be interesting.

Speaking of the kids, they continued yesterday’s theme of odd questions:

“Are we still going to Disney World?”

In Tennessee: “Are we in the jungle?”

While driving through Georgia, 1,200 miles from home: “Mama, are you off work today?”

While stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic in Atlanta, Georgia: “What happened? Are we going backwards?”

As we passed through some road construction where the road was torn up, Caleb looked out the window and said, “All right, somebody needs to clean this place up, right now! I don’t want to see dirt all over the place!” I guess he’s heard me say that a time or two, back home.

We stopped for the night in Valdosta, Georgia, a mere 22 miles from the Florida border.

Tomorrow: Disney World (provided we don’t destroy any more of our van or our children)

Day 3 – Wednesday, May 21, 2008

We got a late start, after sleeping in a bit at the motel. The kids especially needed the extra sleep though, so it was time well-spent.

Once we got back on the road, Dylan informed us that if he ever became president, he would do away with flea markets because, “It’s a stupid idea to sell fleas.” The boy makes a good point. He’s got my vote.

We got to our cabin around 1:00 p.m. and everybody was thrilled to be out of the van. We got settled in, smothered our pasty geek skin with sunscreen, and then hopped on a bus to the marina. From there, we took a boat to the Magic Kingdom.

As we entered the Magic Kingdom, Tinkerbell flew over and showered the girls with fairy dust. Poor Tink hasn’t aged well; she’s starting to resemble an old man throwing Mickey-shaped glitter. Abbie didn’t seem to mind though. The rest of the day, she would stop and pick the glitter up off the ground, whenever she happened upon some. By the time we left, we had a stash that would have made Liberace proud.

We arrived just as the “Dreams Come True” parade was starting, which featured a plethora of Disney characters. I would gladly make the trip again just to relive the kids’ excitement. Abbie sat in stunned bliss, while Faith waved madly at every character, big and small. Abbie’s day was officially made when Ariel looked right at her and blew her a kiss.

We hadn’t really planned our activities so, after the parade, we headed in the general direction of Cinderella’s castle. Since this was what the girls had been talking about for the last month, it was a hit.

We rode a few rides, and then finished our first day by meeting Pooh, Tigger, and Darby. At least, I’m told her name was Darby. It seems my childhood is no longer sacred and Christopher Robin has fallen victim to equal opportunity.

The kids loved meeting Pooh and friends. Faith had a goofy grin on her face, as she just kept pinching Pooh’s tummy. Caleb was very excited that he got to hug one of his favorite characters, Tigger.

One of the photographers noticed my Mariners cap and voiced his surprise to see an M’s fan. Save your pity pal, I know my team sucks.

Some of the other children had autograph books that the Disney characters were signing, so we decided to get a couple for tomorrow’s adventures. Between the autograph books, refreshments, souvenirs, and a misting fan (it was hotter than Hades), I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to eBay a kidney when we get home. I’m also sure the kids would be more than willing to sell both my kidneys if it meant spending ten more minutes at Disney World.

Since the park was closing early for a special event that we weren’t willing to shell out more cash for, we headed back to the cabin and made it in time to watch the American Idol finale. Hey, even on vacation, you need to keep your priorities straight. Our horse won, so it was a good day for everyone.

After putting the kids to bed, Dawn and I made a plan of attack for tomorrow, hoping to be better prepared and make the most of our time. We’ve still got a lot of Disney World to cover, in only three more days.

Later that night, Faith continued her tanning-via-bruising treatment by somehow falling out of bed – even though she was sharing a bed with Abbie and was on the inside, next to the wall. As we put her back to bed, I swear I heard an ethereal voice whisper, “If you build it, she will fall off it.”

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, other than Dawn’s hostile takeover of the bed.

Two years later, things were not well with the young couple. She was especially bitter with Him because of Her lost youth. During one heated argument, She demanded a divorce. He refused, hoping things would get better and, for a brief time, they did.

His love for the Little Girl grew stronger than He could have imagined. He especially enjoyed their time playing baseball together at the local park. But the young couple continued to grow apart. It started becoming obvious to people around them. Friends asked Him why they stayed together. He would tell them it was for the Little Girl’s sake. Secretly, He wondered whether that was good for her or not.

Nearly five years into the young couple’s marriage, He befriended some people online. He enjoyed talking with One of these people, in particular. He felt a peace when speaking to this One person. It was a peace that had been missing for as long as He could remember. Over time, His friendship with the One grew into more.

Meanwhile, the young couple continued to crumble. The day finally came when He realized it was not good for anybody. This time, it was He who demanded the divorce. Although He knew it was the right decision, He felt defeated. He had failed the Little Girl, despite His unspoken promise.

The end had come for the young couple. She was angry, hurt, betrayed. Her family was furious with Him. This was not unexpected. What was unexpected was the animosity from His friends. The same people who had been trying to convince Him to remove himself from the situation for the last several years, now turned their back on Him. She hated Him. Her family hated Him. His friends hated Him. He hated himself.

But he desperately loved the Little Girl.

With the young couple’s divorce came child support and visitation schedules. Although the Little Girl lived with her mother, He was scheduled to spend every other weekend and alternating holidays with her. He cherished those weekends. But the weekends became fewer and farther between. The Little Girl’s mother gradually cut down on His visits with the Little Girl. He tried to reason with her. He tried having the ordered visitation enforced. But to no avail. His time with the Little Girl was now a rarity that was subject to the whims of her mother.

So when the day came that He was given the opportunity to move across the country to be with the One, He faced the hardest decision of His life. Stay, not knowing how often – or when – He’d be allowed to see the Little Girl, or go, and find love again. In the end, He chose to go. And again, hated himself for it.

As soon as He arrived, He made arrangements for the Little Girl to come spend the summer. But, at the last minute, her mother canceled the plans. Again, He tried getting someone – anyone – to enforce His right to visit His daughter. And again, He failed. So He and the One traveled to see the Little Girl, instead.

He was saddened and angered to learn that the child support He had been paying was not being used for the Little Girl. Instead, the Little Girl relayed stories of her mother’s recent attempts to regain the youth she felt He had robbed her of so long ago. Feeling more helpless than ever, He took the Little Girl to buy new shoes to replace the ones with holes that she was wearing.

Eventually, the Little Girl’s mother remarried. And He was faced with another impossible choice. The Little Girl’s stepfather wanted to legally adopt her. His initial reaction was to refuse. But He knew that was selfish. He had vowed that the Little Girl would not grow up fatherless and, since His visits with her were being held to a minimum, He realized that was exactly what was happening. Defeated, He agreed to their wishes.

Just as His own father had done when He was a child.

The Little Girl took a new last name. Over the years, He continued to watch from a distance. Aware that He didn’t have the right to be a real part of her life, but needing to be sure she was happy.

Now, as the Little Girl is on the cusp of adulthood, and He sits writing this, He allows himself a brief moment to remember. And to feel. Sadness, disappointment, failure, shame, pride, and hope. But His primary emotion is one that has never waned over the years.

He will always love the Little Girl.