More than OK

Remember how I mentioned we were making our own rules for this trip? Well shortly after we braved the sidewalk portion of Route 66 at dusk we decided to hop on the interstate and jump to Tulsa for the night. We then doubled back a bit this morning to visit The Blue Whale of Catoosa.

Because how can you miss a giant blue whale in the middle of Oklahoma?

I don’t know if you can tell by this picture but it was extremely windy. I originally just had the dress on but added the leggings after I stepped out of the car and promptly flashed my undies to Mr. Blue here. Maybe that’s why he’s smiling…

I may be cheesing it up but Phoebe’s hair doesn’t lie. It was windy.

There was so much to see between Catoosa and Oklahoma City that it took us almost 5 hours to make our way between the two cities. We just kept stopping to snap photos.*

At one point we stepped out of the car to take a picture of a bridge. I just walked along the side of the road like a normal human. Joel on the other hand was tired of sitting so he ran along the dirt beside me. He happened to look down just in time to awkwardly trip/jump over a giant fire ant hill.

Suddenly he decided that I had the right idea and walked along the side of the road, eyes on the ground.

Once we got a little ways outside of Oklahoma City the scenery was mostly this:

Or some slight varient.

The most excitement we had was the constant zig-zag game old Route 66 likes to play with I-40. Drive. Stop sign. Turn right. Bridge. Stop sign. Turn left. Drive. Stop sign. Turn left. Bridge. Stop sign. Turn right. Drive.

Etc.

I’ve never seen so many dead end roads in my life.

It kept me, as the navigator, on my toes anyway.

After what felt like forever we finally made it to Texas. Our plan was to make it to Amarillo but since we had so much fun at the beginning of the day we didn’t get quite that far. When the sun started going down we decided to just find the nearest hotel and get an early start tomorrow. No point in driving if you can’t see anything.

Tomorrow we hope to make it to Albuquerque by night. If we don’t it means we had too much fun along the way.

And that is more than ok with me.

*In case anyone cares to get picky those photos may or may not have been taken in between Catoosa and Oklahoma City. I don’t remember exactly but they were some of my favorites so there.

Joel drives on the sidewalk

As I hold on and scream….

Just kidding.

About me screaming that is. He actually intended to drive on a very old portion of Route 66 that’s known as the sidewalk highway. Had we not had to make a few detours due to some poor navigating ::cough:: I’m blaming the map ::cough:: we would have arrived at this portion a little sooner which would have been ideal. We made it at the last possible moments of daylight though and it was neat to see.

It’s all about the journey

Hm, blogging… let’s see if I remember how to do this.

First of all, thank all of you for your kind comments here and on Twitter about my dad. Things could have been so much worse than what they were. He’s not all better yet but he is recovering and for that I’m so thankful.

So much else has happened since I fell off the blogging wagon I don’t even know where to start so I’m just going to skip to current time. I may eventually try to recap things but my current adventure is way too exciting to bother with that right now.

Yesterday Joel, Phoebe and I began Epic Road Trip 2011. We’re in the process of completing number 27 on my 30 by 30 list. Driving across the country on Route 66.

Or getting our kicks on Route 66 as they say.

This is something I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve been on more road trips than I can count. They’ve always been to get somewhere in particular, as most road trips tend to be. Because they’re destination focused it doesn’t leave time for the random things in between.

Like the word’s largest rocking chair.

Every time I’ve taken a road trip I’ve always said that someday I want to take a trip where I get to stop at every strange and stupid thing. Just for the heck of it.

This is that trip.

And it’s even better than I hoped it would be.

It’s unbelievable how true flexibility makes things so much more enjoyable. Any time-table? Ours. Any rules or guidelines? Ours. If we decide something looks cool, we stop. If not, we don’t. If there’s a particularly dull stretch of road we may hop on the interstate for a few miles to save a few minutes that we can later use on something interesting.

We stopped at that ridiculously large rocking chair.

I kissed Mater.*

We’ve laughed and talked and joked and dreamed out loud and just had the most amazing time ever.

There’s no rush to be anywhere because here is exactly where we’re going.

I often have a hard time living in the moment because I’m so focused on my goals and where I want to be in the future. This trip is exactly what I need to remind me that there’s really nothing more important than right now because right now is my life.

It’s all about the journey.

*Oh hi Disney/Pixar, obviously I meant a Mater-like tow truck. Don’t sue me.

Denial

No no no no no no no.

This keeps going through my head over and over. My dad had a stroke.

Stroke.

No. Can’t be true. Nope.

Mentally I’m holding my ears and scrunching my eyes closed and saying la la la la la as loud as I can.

My dad had. A stroke.

My grandfather had a stroke. My dad’s dad. He had a couple actually. Ultimately he died. I was too young to remember the man he was before the stroke. I’m told it changed him a lot. I only have pinpoints of memories of my grandfather. His stroke made him much grumpier and as a small child I didn’t understand it. I loved him though despite the fact that he scared me a little. I wish I could remember him as he was before his strokes. I don’t think he would have scared me then.

I wonder if my dad had as hard a time accepting things when it was his dad as I’m having now that it’s mine. I wonder if his mind argued with itself. His dad was an amazing man, I’m told. I know my dad thought so. How did he handle it when it was his dad lying in a bed or sitting in a wheelchair? I wish I could ask him.

I visit my dad and I see the other stroke patients. They’re old. My dad can’t be old. My dad can’t possibly belong here with all these weak, sick old people. He doesn’t belong there.

Those can’t be my dad’s legs, so small and frail. Those can’t be my dad’s arms, barely able to lift himself an inch. My dad picks me up when I’ve fallen and hurt myself. His are the arms I can curl up in when I’ve had a scary dream. He gives me advice when I have a problem. The roles aren’t supposed to reverse like this. He’s my dad.

The worst is his mind though. He’s not there. At least not completely. My dad not only knows the year and the president but he’ll talk your ear off passionately for hours about exactly how said president has failed. My dad doesn’t stare off into space. My dad doesn’t just follow a conversation, he leads it.

No Dad, it’s not 2003. No Dad, it’s not 2012. No Dad, you’re not going home tomorrow. No Dad, that man in the next room isn’t your brother.

No.

I can’t stand it. It breaks my heart into a million pieces. It’s so unfair that my dad is almost 73 and I’m only 25. I feel like I’m desperately clawing, trying to hold onto every precious second I have with him and those seconds are sand, disintegrating underneath my nails faster and faster and faster.

It takes my breath away to think of losing him. How much less of a whole my family would be without his hearty, infectious laugh and goofy jokes. I’ve had that ticking clock in the back of my mind for years now. I knew I couldn’t keep him forever. Why do I feel like someone just sped up the countdown?

It could have been so much worse. He can walk and talk. If you didn’t know him you might not even know he’d had a stroke. But for me? The lack of mental clarity makes me nauseous. My dad is his mind. I want him back.

I can’t help but feel likes it’s the beginning of the end and that thought sends me swirling into a deep dark pit of despair. I want to be wrong. I’ve never wanted to be wrong so badly in my life. I desperately want everything to return to normal. I don’t want a reason to be in denial.

Outwardly I’m remaining positive and hopeful. Inside I’m holding my head and screaming at the top of my lungs. I want my dad back.

Nothing is wrong.

No no no no no no no.

A lifetime in seconds

The ring of a phone.

An unexpected name on the caller id.

Since my name starts with A-b, I generally expect unexpected calls to be butt dials. Happens a lot.

That moment of hope that it’s not. It’d be nice to hear from them.

Hello?

And then that awful return hello. The moment you know this call was no accident. They’re about to give you bad news.

And the world stops.

An impossible amount of time passes. Yet no time passes. How can so much time fit into a breath? Not even a breath because in that moment you’ve forgotten how to breath.

It’s the longest, most horrible moment. How can so many tragic possibilities run through a brain in a split second? How can every person you love flash through your head in less time than it takes to finish the word hello?

And even still there’s that hope that it’s nothing. Even while your stomach drops through your feet and you try to remember what inhaling is for there’s still that glimmer that it’s all okay.

And then it’s not.

Everything is not okay and the world freezes. You hear the news and there’s nothing but the echoing of the words.

Then just as suddenly everything comes unfrozen and time makes up for lost time.

But that instant, right before bad news? How can an entire lifetime pass in less time than you can take a breath?

Two years old already

My little baby is two years old today.

I can’t believe she’s so grown up already. Almost overnight she’s mellowed out so much. She’s never been super hyper but she definitely was testing boundaries for awhile. Typical teenage girl stuff. Hehe.

Yes I just called my dog a teenage girl. Shut up.

But she was a huge brat for awhile and I definitely did not consider finding a new home for her.

Ahem.

But now she’s becoming the amazing dog she was when we first got her. She is such a part of our family now, it feels wrong when she’s not around.

So, for her birthday I’ve given her a few too many treats, took her for a nice long walk in the beautiful kinda sorta spring like weather and we’ve snuggled on the couch for hours.

I’m pretty sure we both had a really good birthday.

Happy 2nd birthday, Phoebe.