Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Art Works

You can follow the summer's blog posts here.
You can read my experiences trying to learn to fly, which is here.

Nicaragua Trip Journal: June 2008

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Here are most of the pages from the journal I kept on my recent trip to Nicaragua. Some pages I did not include, and on some pages that I did include, I blurred out chunks of text I didn't wish to share with the world. Most of the comics aren't going to make a lot of sense, or be terribly funny, for anyone who wasn't on the trip or hasn't gone on such a trip in the past. However, you can look through it and get a sense of some of the things we did as a group.::

Nicaragua 2008: June Trip Journal - Upload a Document to Scribd

Labels: cartoons, journals, nicaragua, nicaragua 2008, travel

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Little frog, big noise.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

It was such a loud croak.

Elias informed us that the sound came from a small frog. And, indeed, he was right. Jennifer, Kaylee and I sorted through the branches of the tree and found the source of the loud noise. The frog was small.

Jennifer poked at it with a twig, but we left it alone soon. Elias, however, met us at the front of the building and asked where the frog was. I was soon shamed into picking up the little critter, its grippy feet stuck fast to the back of my hand.

I don't mind slimey things, and I didn't mind the frog.

At first.

Until it started hopping quickly up my bare arm onto my shoulder and back, nearing my neck. At that point, I screamed like a girl and dropped it on the ground. Jennifer and Kaylee joined me in screaming. Elias just laughed. Today, during our evening meal, he joked about how we would be having frog legs, and that I could help him catch the frogs.

The other exciting story was a near miss with a fast truck that involved about four inches of supernatural protection, and a van full of passengers suddenly turned into prayer warriors. But I won't give all the details on that story. I know my parents read this, and I'd like them to think the worst thing so far was a little frog.

There are, of course, a number of other hilarious stories that I may or may not immortalize in cartoon. One, involving Lance and a very zealous restroom cleaning woman, may be difficult to draw and still keep my dignity. Or Lance's.

We'll see.

The weather is beautiful. Somewhat cool, and lovely. Today, we took our Nicaraguan friends shopping at the market. We've had a few meetings regarding the farm project, and will be having more. We've already been to church, sang as best we could, and had Lew preach a sermon that inspired Lance, Gaylon, and I to tease him the next morning, for its extreme length. Tonight we pack the bags of food to distribute tomorrow.

It has been a relaxed and rejuvenating trip so far.

Labels: nicaragua 2008, travel

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A Nica report for those who want to know.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

If you were to ask me how Nicaragua was so far, I would probably give you the weather report answer: Hot. Humid. I'm dripping wet.

(OK, I veered a bit into personal hygiene...)

But we're all good. It's going well, and our first day, though very relaxed, has been good. I've enjoyed connecting with my Nicaragua friends, and have had a good talk with a friend that I met on the last trip. The girl I have been sponsoring for a few years is also spending the entire week with our group, and she brought her violin along. She is just learning to play it; her entire family is very musical. She played for me, and then I played a little on it. It was a good moment for both of us. We also have a new interpreter who is a really sweet young woman.

Our schedule is pretty relaxed, but we are planning a food distribution and have already taken some people to the doctor/dentist. Tomorrow we'll be taking a number of people to the market. Tonight, church. (And, since we'll be asked to sing in front of the church, I suppose our little group had better learn a song in the next hour). We will also have a free day in which we are planning on taking some of our Nicaraguan friends to the beach.

I did the morning devotions, in which we talked about how God is a God of small things, and how looking at the "big picture" often causes us to lose sight of the important small things God asks us to be obedient in.

Now, if you were going to ask how the traveling went yesterday...that would be a very different story, one that ranged from major mechanical difficulties, cancelled flights, running through airports, and sighs of relief as we barely made boarding.

But that was yesterday, and it ended up being a day of small miracles in which we all made, our luggage all made it, the van rental went without a hitch, we safely drove to Leon, and were snug and dead tired in our beds by 11:30 last night.

So, all is well. The group is having a great time joking with each other, and I have to say: I'm liking the small group feel. We're getting along great.

::For those of you who have gone on past trips and want a quick list of what we've done so far: Tip Top Chicken, swimming pool. I know you wanted to know.::

Labels: nicaragua, nicaragua 2008, travel

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Paperthin.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

I like local publications. While on my recent trip to Knoxville, I picked up a copy of the February 2008 Paperthin magazine at the University of Tennessee. Free, of course. I was drawn to the look of it. (I'll be honest: I often judge by covers.)

I'm visually orientated, and I like free.

Nice compact size, making it easy to carry around and read as opposed to the often huge, unwieldy, newsprint and shedding ink monstrosities that free publications usually are. Combine that small size with fine, glossy pages and high-level graphic design happening inside...the small magazine looked great. Less is more. It really is. Being overwhelmed by the amount of material and articles and ads and sheer size happens a lot when I read newspapers.

The magazine wasn't hugely jam-packed with articles like a lot of indy rags are, but again, I count that a plus. After a while, being beat on the head by "alternative" writing gets old, since so many authors are painfully overwrought and take themselves too seriously (to the point of hilarity) in such publications. Paperthin obviously places a premium on quality over quantity, and I liked it.

Plus, I got a good laugh out of the tongue-in-cheek writing found in the fine print. In amidst what seemed to be the usual copyright notice on the first page (which looked like a restaurant guest check) I found this:

All content within is copyright (C) 2008 Lone Rider Design. Paperthin is published monthly, and available free of charge by Lone Rider Design. That means you don't have to pay for it, just in case you were wondering what "free" meant. Without limiting the rights under copyrights reserved herein, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form without the prior written consent of Lone Rider Design. That means if you do any of the aforementioned stuff, we'll send Luca Brasi over with nothing but a hatchet, and a lot of free time.

I suppose, by reprinting their copyright here, I should expect a visit with that hatchet.

I often pick these free magazines and newspapers up because I have had an obsession since I was a kid about starting my own "newspaper." I've made many fake newspapers, and even have a few on my site. There's little point in it now though, I suppose, since I'm doing that online and have even subconsciously (after years of constant web site re-working) ended up with a web site design that mimics the look of a newspaper to some degree.

Still, I like to see what other artists and writers are doing, and I even hold onto the idea that a paper publication still has value and could really be creative and fun to hold -- like a small treasure -- in this digital age.

Paperthin was pretty good that way. I hope they keep publishing, and I hope the people of Knoxville appreciate the fine little magazine that it is.

Links:

Paperthin Mag's web site is here.
Find out more about them here.

Note: This post was pre-written and published as scheduled. Read more about this here.

Labels: links, media, travel

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Survival gear.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

All North Dakotans have winter survival gear that they carry around in their vehicles in case they get stranded.

I'm considering a sort of year-round "randomness survival" kit which would include things like a sleeping bag, small cooler, and other items for those times when you found yourself either camping, without plans, not sure if there's a bed waiting for you at your destination, or just needing to pull of and sleep in your vehicle.

The vehicle I drive is a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and I've spent many hours arranging the interior for making it the ultimate "pack light and hit the road random" vehicle. With all seats stowed forward, it would be easy for a short person like me to simple sleep in a sleeping bag with just a light camping mat for cushion. A small cooler next to the sleeping bag would suffice as the "kitchen", and a duffel with my clothes and other travelin' items positioned next to it would be my "dresser."

The front seat would serve as the Operations Center, with my car cell-phone charger, purse, and other items needed while driving, like a map. (And a 20 pound can of mace and ginormous taser). I've considered ways to put something on that front passenger floor that would make a handy holder for books or other items. Maybe even a laptop.

Instead of hauling around some camper monstrosity which was a headache in traffic and required restrictions on where it could be driven or parked or whatnot, it would be lovely if the vehicle you were driving were the camper. And not a huge vehicle, either. So convenient. Sure, you wouldn't have a toilet and an entire set of fake-wood kitchen cupboards, but who cares? Less time would be spent on parking and settling and planning for an acceptable camping site, and more could be done with traveling and seeing with a regular vehicle that immediately serves as a home on wheels by merely parking it and crawling into the back.

I'd probably consider some sort of electrical charges that would immediately vaporize anyone attempting to break in. I'm brutal that way.

Whenever I find myself out of the regular, scheduled rut that life seems to consist of 90 percent of the time, I get the strongest itch to road trip.

I need some serious cortisone right now.

Labels: summer 2008, travel

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No worries.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Flexibility is good. In all areas of life.

This afternoon, right after church and my little lackluster experience there, I drove back to the facility I had been staying in and endeavored to pack up and leave before the residents came back so as to avoid a big (and possibly confusing) scene and lots of eyes. I almost pulled it off, but not quite before some came back.

I've been feeling lots of eyes, every time I come and go, and it was starting to make me plan on leaving early in the morning and not coming back to the room until evening. Which is exhausting and unnecessarily stressful. And what I'm trying to do is exhausting and stressful enough.

Plus, I don't actually thrive on structure and rules. It's true. I'm a sweet-smiling, surface-obedient rule breaker. (I even break the rules I set for others in a particular organization I'm a part of. It's terrible.)

The place I stayed was a place where structure and rules are very defined and very necessary, and because of the haphazard and continually unpredictable nature of when I'd be "in class", it was going to make it both impossible for me to work there (which was part of the deal as to why I could stay there) and also made for a situation that didn't promote the stability for the rest of the staff and residents; that's not good. I couldn't expect them to put up with that. I felt it put too many in an uncomfortable and awkward position, myself included. I couldn't expect them to let me live there if I wasn't working, and since it became apparent that the working would not really pan out when I never knew from one day to the next my exact class schedule, I knew I had to leave, and the sooner the better. My presence was, I'm afraid, distracting for the working staff and the residents. "Who is she? Why is she here?"

As it is, I am "camping" tonight, though I use the term lightly. I'm in a little cabin at a fabulous campground with a pool and free WiFi and tree-shaded seclusion despite I94 being just one mile away. Right outside my door is a beautiful lilac bush which makes me smile, because it looks like I won't miss the lilacs this year, after all. Directly behind the little cabin is a pasture with a sorrel mare and a new foal. There are few people here tonight, so there isn't much noise. I don't have any neighbors. The cabin is cozy and the sounds of two determined yellow birds are delightful. Granted, I may not have had the normal bedding for camping, but I can make do, no problem. I've camped in these kinds of cabins many, many times, from South Dakota through Texas to a nearly a week in San Antonio and Carlsbad, NM and multiple times in Colorado...I'm familiar with the place and it's why I decided to do this rather than a low-grade motel room for the same price without the peace and quiet.

All in all, not bad for doing a hasty pack-up, dragging stuff down three flights of stairs and through a winding building using duffels and garbage bags and makeshift containers. I certainly will enjoy the rest of my afternoon and evening here, with Monday being a day of looking into three other possible solutions for finding housing.

None of this weirdness was on my "master plan", but master plans are really just anchors. I catch myself again thinking that I should remember to never ask people for help (which is what I did to locate a place to stay while here) and that I should just take care of things myself, but that's really not the solution. If you need help, ask for it. It doesn't always pan out and often, people can't help. Sometimes, things just go wonky. I'm oddly relaxed about it and, to borrow from the Aussie's, feeling very much the concept of "no worries."

Tuesday, more class.

On Saturday, I completed my first significant hour of part of the instruction. It was VERY exciting despite being a little white-knuckled. My instructor seemed relaxed, which was good, because, had he not been, I probably would have absorbed his nerves, imploded, and ceased to exist.

Well, I have a little more reading to do, then maybe a dip in the pool and some laundry catch-up.

Remember, no worries. ;-)

Jacqui: If you feel that you need to reimburse me for your text messages, by all means, go ahead. Ha ha. At ten cents each coming and going, you owe me... $1?

Labels: my life, summer 2008, travel

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Travel journal: The cartoons, the commentary, and the clippings.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

::This is the travel journal from my recent trip to Fargo (run the 5K and see a Rodin exhibit)/South Dakota (sister's house)/Tennessee (DI global finals)/and back again. You can read the posts from the trip starting here.::

Tennessee 2008 Journal - Upload a doc

Labels: art, cartoons, journals, travel

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The place.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

It's the place you can sort things out
in proper perspective
away from the moment
and the rush and pressure
and figure out what it all means.

It's the place where you feel
no prying eyes
and your back relaxes
and your exhale everything
and all the on-guard paraphernalia
and the masks
fall off.

It's the place where the big things
are seen as the small things they really were
and the small things
take on the importance they deserved,
and you vow to not get the two mixed up next time
in the heat of the away-ness.

It's the place where you know
immediately
that you belong
to it
and it
to you.

It's the place
called home.

Labels: personal, poetry, travel

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Not enough rum.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

We'd stopped at a candy "factory" next to the World's Fair Park in Knoxville, and along with a few other candies, we bough dad some rum balls. At his request. He likes them.

After having to suffer through my driving of the ginormous Suburban on Cumberland Drive, on into a mini-parking lot at a Wendy's which was crammed with people and screaming kids and, eventually, an obnoxious drunk man who was asked to leave by the staff, dad had had enough. Once back inside the vehicle, he asked for all of the rum balls, ate them, and his only comment was that "they didn't have enough rum in them."

We aren't a family of drinkers.

That should tell you a lot.

Earlier we'd spend the morning hours crammed into the convention center with half of the world's population of kids. It was wild, and what made it wilder was trying to find all seven third graders that my sister had on the team she led.

My older nephew, Cody, forms an integral chain of communication in which I text him, he responds, or gets on his walkie talkie and buzzes my sister. The texting is better, since the constant roar of activity and people make it all but impossible to hear the phone. While helping him take a few team members to the 3M booth for a challenge, I turned around and noticed one of the boys had walked off again.

Me: Where's so-and-so?

Cody: (looking around and not seeing him) I don't know, but he's dead.

Cody went off and found the boy, who had been trading pins again. Pin trading is a strange and addictive behavior, I've found. People who are into it are obsessive about it, and it is something done far beyond just this event; adults and kids all over trade pins at events and on vacations (like Disneyworld, Dollywood, etc.). I get a kick out of watching Cody trade; he has some kind of radar which senses who has the coveted hard-to-get pin, and manages to convince them to trade for them. It's a complex thing, trading for pins in a way that allows you to get the pins you want as well as pins you know you can trade up for later.

Once we had the kids back together, we rejoined the rest of the group. I have much video of the morning and the wall-to-wall kids that packed out the convention center. It's crazy. Cody made a joke, during one of our many joking sessions, that the reason that the lanyards (that all participants and registered spectators were required to wear, with an event ID attached) had break-away clasps was because too many team managers had tried to kill themselves by the end of the week.

The team managers get run ragged.

It was a tremendously long day, and I could tell TOF were getting tired. After waiting for an hour for my sister's team to come out and do a little Ta-Da performance following their instant challenge, I, too, was ready to call it a day. While standing around, waiting (for I am the videographer for the group), Cody and I joke around some more. I have such an infantile sense of humor. We were both dying of laughter multiple times, joking about stupid things like electrifying pins and using them as a kind of remote taser for kids that won't listen, and other stuff. I've been drawing cartoons for each of the days, and we looked at them frequently for that painful kind of silent, repressed laughter when you know it's inappropriate to laugh out loud.

After the event was over, TOF went to the car and I went with my sister, Cody, and three members of her team to the student union there on campus.

Whenever I'm on a college campus, I have an almost overwhelming urge to go back to school. There's just something about that campus vibe...but then I remember the ten years of student loans that I paid off, and the feeling pretty much dissipates. I usually pick up as many free newspapers and pamphlets as I can and, inevitably, get turned off by the usual college-opinion drama that is, despite claims of being "alternative" and "independent", identical to every other free paper I've ever picked up.

Anyway, we headed to the student union; my sister to get my two nephews some UT caps. My sister was fairly worn out. She told of another team manager who fell asleep in her chair in one of the rooms at the convention center with her team bouncing and screaming all around her. Very few of the adults here at the Destination Imagination Global Finals look "fresh"; the kids have successfully worn them down to one quivering nerve. On the walk down to the union, the two boys were all over the place, and the little girl went on and on about how tired she was and how her legs hurt from walking, and how she wished she had a horsey.

Before leaving the student union, all of us stopped and got an ice-cream treat in the food area. This presented its own challenges, one of which was the little girl getting upset about her ice-cream melting out in the hot sun as we walked back.

Little Girl: My ice-cream is melting.

Me: Melting is one of the properties of ice-cream.

Cody: Everything melts.

Little Girl: People don't melt.

Me: Actually, people who look at the ark of the covenant while it's open melt.

Little Girl: (staring at me, open-mouthed)

Janet: (turning back and giving me a stern stare)

Me: Ah...kidding.

She later decided, as I was about to part company with the little entourage and head back to the vehicle, that she wanted to throw the remains of her ice-cream cone away. I pointed to one of the many boxes all over campus for garbage, boxes that were labeled "reduce litter", and suggested she toss it in there. The two boys careened on ahead up the sidewalk.

Little Girl: I can't throw this there. This is garbage. It isn't litter.

I think litter has become trash along the road side for this little girl. Litter isn't a food product! It's something else! It's a subset of garbage!

Important unrelated note: My friend Molly told me to get a pair of Keen shoes, which I did the day of the 5K, which look something like this, which was an impulse buy and an expensive one at that, and all I can tell you is that these shoes are wonderful and have saved my feet for all this walking.

Labels: family, kids, my life, travel

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Spare a drop more paint.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

The day ended well, at the Ripley's Aquarium in Gatlinburg. It looked for a short while, however, that we were headed down grumpy TOF street.

Gatlinburg is like any other tourist trap: settled in some kind of space-inhibited mountain valley which allows for little space and parking and ends up with everything piled on top of each other and no place to be with a huge Suburban. We had some question as to where to park for the aquarium since the signs were..."silent."

"You'd think they could mark this a bit better," dad grumped as I pulled into a parking garage that I determined to be the correct temporary resting place for the vehicle. "But no, they simply can't spare a drop more, a brush more, of paint to indicate to people that this is where the aquarium parking is."

He also ended up making comments about being licensed for e coli and a few other things, but we'll let that slide.

Earlier in the day, we'd gone to Dollywood. Dad went on the wooden roller coaster with me and although he cracked a grin at the end, he said he wouldn't ride it again.

It was awesome. That's all I can say. I'd ride it every day if I could.

We all split up, the four of us, and each had about three hours on our own. I enjoyed wandering around by myself and watching the various artisans working in glass, blacksmithing, wax, etc. I didn't spend any time on rides or other attractions where all the screaming kids were, nor did I eat anything until the end (when I had a delicious chocolate malt in an old-time ice cream shoppe). I have to say that I was rather dismayed at the sheer numbers of people who were very...very large. I'm not saying this to be cruel, but it really caught me off-guard. It's not like that, to the degree I saw today, back home in North Dakota.

I had thought I'd get a sandwich in one of the eating places, but the food (besides being seriously over-priced) was proportioned out in ginormous amounts. One slice of cake (and I do like cake) was enough for me for probably two or three days. It was huge! The candy shop (where I purchased a key lime truffle and later shared it with the rest of TOF) had half of their items marked "sugar free." I later commented on this to dad, who had also noted the seriously large size of a huge percentage of the people there, and we wondered if the increasing diabetes issue had anything to do with the ever-growing offerings in the sugar-free realm.

Regardless, the weather was nice, I didn't have the strain of running around after kids or making sure everyone in our group was together, and I had fun. We all had fun, I think.

I wandered into a store filled with all things Ireland, and got myself a shirt and sterling silver claddagh necklace. I also got the O'Brien crest on a key chain, only to later find that mom had gone to the same store and gotten the crest as a pin. Go Irish!

Whatever.

I mainly just enjoyed walking around and watching the artisans and listening to the bands playing live music.

Afterwards, I drove us all back to the condo, we ate some salad and rested a bit, and then piled back in the car to drive aimlessly towards Gatlinburg.

Highway 441 is a visual assault from Sevierville to Gatlinburg. Absolute sensory fascism. Horrific. Painful on the eyes. And, just when you think you can't take any more billboards and signs and brashly colored and styled buildings and Tennessee Shindigs...the highway disappears into a deep, green tunnel. Just a few miles, true, but for a tiny while you feel like you're lost deep in the Smokies and it is really wonderful. Trees overhanging the road. Rock edged almost up to the road line.

And then Gatlinburg, which is Estes Park, which is Deadwood, which is any tourist trap you've ever been to.

The aquarium, however, was fabulous. It really was. We all were talking about it, how much we enjoyed it. I've never seen such a well-done aquarium, and such a long glass-tunnel section where the sharks and fish are swimming on all sides and over you. Really great. Mom, dad, and I even had the opportunity to pet a sting ray while one of the handlers moved along the edge feeding them. Cool, literally, and slimy.

Dork note: I shot lots of boring video footage at the aquarium, which I fully intend to use to put together in a mock SciFi monster movie in the future. I figure, with all the random footage I've been shooting (and now, sharks, monterey eels, and other creepy things!!), I should be able to edit and creatively come up with something decently comparable to SciFi Saturday.

And so ends another boring trip update which I'm mainly writing for my family and friends who wonder what we're all doing. Tomorrow brings more Destination Imagination stuff, and today was really the only free day we were to have.

It was a long day, but a good one...IN WHICH I SUCCESSFULLY DROVE AND NAVIGATED WITHOUT A HITCH.

(Just sayin'.)

Labels: family, my life, travel

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Her husband appreciates the vacation.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Yesterday was a long, tiring, but not-too-shabby day. I was back in the driver's seat doing very well as I am fully able to do, wandering about the University of Tennessee campus with the Three Older Folks (TOF - my parent's and my sister's father-in-law).

The morning started off with my sister trying to register the kids at the Destination Imagination fiasco officially known as "registration." It took hours, and the TOF baked under the hot sun out near the Rec. Center at UT. I, having slapped on my usual spf 45, felt a bit bad for them. My youngest nephew, Trey, played like a wild child on the inflatable toys after he spent a few hours trading pins under the watchful eye of his older brother, Cody.

Pin trading creeps me out. It brings out the cheat and greed in some kids, and even adults get a little carried away and try to he some kind of ultimate huckster and get "rare" pins (the hand-made doll pins from the Guatemala team, for example) by hook or crook from little kids (like Trey) who don't know any better. Cody, however, did a great job to keep that from happening. And Trey ended up with quite a few pins that kids are going to kill to try to get.

It's such a weird thing. In about three weeks, it's just junk. I couldn't handle the pressure to trade up and trade wisely and not be taken. If I were a kid doing it, I would implode and become catatonic.

I sat around with Cody, after both boys took a break from pin trading, and we made dumb jokes. I can do that well, and for hours, on a junior-high-school-boy level. It's an amazing gift.

After the registration, we had to haul the kids and all their stuff up to Humes Hall on the campus, where they'd be staying for the week. More chaos.

DI is all about creativity, which sadly has manifested itself in a confused way. A woman, who had experienced the multi-hour registration process, told her friend that her husband hand urged patience, saying "remember honey, they're creative, not organized."

I think I'll save the "creative is not/cannot be organized" rant for another day, but let me preface that future post by saying IT'S NOT TRUE.

After the boys were settled into their dorms, which inspired much confusion, wall-to-wall kids and luggage, and dad rolling his eyes in extreme exasperation, I was faced with about four hours to kill with TOF.

We went to the student union, after much turning of the campus map and discussion on the best route. There is a certain amount of "herding" involved in the TOF (one in particular), and it was almost emotionally exhausting just getting to the union so they could get some sunblock and food and drink, and so I could get some UT shirts (Go Vols!). Orange isn't really my color, but I'm making an exception.

After the union, we walked waded about in confusion over whether to take the shuttle to the convention center, which way was north, and more herding. Finally, we decided to just walk towards where the vehicle was parked and stop at the McClurg museum on the way.

It was a nice little museum, with a fine little exhibit on Asiatic bronzes. I found it an interesting contrast to see those bronzes after having seen Rodin's work in Fargo last Friday. The thing about museums is that few people go to them and they are always the quietest place. So quiet, in fact, that I caught sun-burned mom sleeping in the darkened mini-theater in the Cherokee exhibit.

That was a pretty good cue to head back to the vehicle and nap for an hour before we went to the opening ceremony.

The opening ceremony was another example of chaos, as the workers couldn't agree on where general admission and ticketed spectators should sit. I was getting a little growly then. We found seats in the "Nebraska" section, next to the South Dakota section. Mom pointed out we were in the wrong section and I said that unless some official dragged me out of my seat, we were going to stay put. We had a good view, no one in front of us, and I could get the event on tape for my nephews.

The woman sitting behind us was a loud, chatty woman. Her constant chatter and annoying presence caused dad to later say, back at the condo, that he was sure her husband appreciated the vacation from her. Regardless, the opening ceremony is always interesting, watching the kids come in from the different countries and states, and the light and laser show at the end. The keynote speakers and such in the middle, however, were hard to hear and sort of...a waste.

No one was listening.

You see, when you encourage kids to be wild and crazy and throw off inhibitions and reward oddness and exuberance and "creativity without order" you end up with thousands of kids not listening at all. It was embarrassing for me to sit there and hear the dull roar of talking and noise while the speaker attempted to speak to kids ranging in age from wee elementary all the way up to university level.

It was at that point the woman behind us began talking loudly about how she had to go because she couldn't take sitting there listening to all the people talking and not listening to the speaker. She went on about this for five minutes to all her friends nearby, which meant she was talking and not listening to the speaker.

I was glad she left.

I drove the dark highway back to Sieverville, and was thrilled to go to sleep. It was a long day.

Labels: family, my life, travel

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The skunk by the outhouse.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Talk about your stinkers.

Today, on the last day of the trip, I did the driving. I'm a pretty good driver. I've not been in an accident as a driver, nor hit a deer, nor gotten a speeding ticket. I've driven in lots of cities and in the mountains and in the desert of the Southwest. I've followed maps, planned complex itineraries, booked flights, traveled internationally on my own, followed instructions written on the back of a paper napkin.

I've done some traveling and driving in my time. I am fully up to the job.

Today, as we left a hotel in Knoxville where part of the group stayed, I found myself with five backseat drivers, TomTom (the GPS system) yammering his own directions, and me with absolutely no patience left.

"Goddamn it, I can drive!"

That's what I hollered.

Shameful.

The car got quiet. The atlas, which had been passed back and forth with different (and conflicting) suggestions being offered to me, was stilled. I floored it, made a U-turn, jammed the accelerator to the floor, and went roaring onto I-40 east. I followed the detour signs only to hear more comments of "I don't think this is right" and "we're heading north -- this isn't right."

I know how to read a road sign!!!

I maintained the deadly silence that befalls me when I am ready to rip heads off, answering in overly polite, clipped tones.

The problem here is that the entire vehicle of passengers, which had ridden safely and sleepily all day with me doing the driving through some of Illinois, Kentucky, Nashville, and on into Knoxville, had no complaints. No problems then, but suddenly they doubted my ability to drive after me missing one entrance and everyone trying to over-correct me. I had to listen to my dad suggest the place and best way to do a three point turn, and watch as he began to brace himself as I was driving, as if I was one moment from mishap. I had to hear all kinds of suggestions on how we ought to be heading south again. My 15-year-old nephew even spoke up while I was pulling into the temporary guest spot at the resort where we were to check-in, clearly thinking I couldn't even figure that out.

This is really angering to me. I get no respect (sorry, Rodney) from family on a certain level, always the "baby" of the family or somehow inept, and will always be incapable or something.

I. Can. Drive.

I can.

People in other walks and situations of life have no doubt of my abilities, but because I had to suffer through the hollering of five backseat drivers and make U-turns and have to suffer through patronizing "look, this is our exit, you're doing good, Julie" and "calm down, you're OK" comments -- suddenly, my 15-year-old nephew has come to believe I can't even pull up to a hotel the right way.

Thank you, family, for helping instill that in his mind.

My sister drove to the grocery store after we'd unpacked; I don't think I'll do any more driving for this bunch ever again. I'd have liked to have seen any of those backseat drivers put up with all that ruckus and confusion and come out smelling like a rose.

And speaking of things smelling good...

This resort (Wyndham condos or something) here in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains is fabulous -- way above my price range and I feel shabby here, as if I should be a maid or something. And the rotten ending to a day that had been going so well really tainted it. But the presence of the skunk by the outhouse on the construction site, as I walked to the office and the computer, made me feel a little better. Somehow.

At least I wasn't the only one stinking up the day.

Note: This post written while two people waiting for the computer sat behind me and talked and made it clear they were waiting, waiting, waiting for me to finish. The wrong day to push my buttons, people, the wrong day. Just shut up with y'all for five minutes so I can write @&^!0% it.

Labels: family, my life, rant, travel

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We don't do no work.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

If I were to write this blog as a post card, it would as follows:

Nicaragua is warm and wonderful. Best trip ever. Just about got run over by a herd of cattle today while hiking down a volcano to a lake. No monkeys, thankfully. Tell you more when I get home.

And I will.

Labels: nicaragua, nicaragua 2008, travel

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John was a trapper.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 9 comments link this post

My friend Naomi is in Chicago right now. She takes the train, and periodically visits her friends.

Someday, I want to go to Chicago on the train. I always go west. Chicago has, I've been told, some good pizza. I'm sure there is good pizza in the west, but I really want to try authentic Chicago pizza.

Where Naomi goes also has a store whose name I, without fail, get wrong at first effort.

"Naomi, if you get a chance when you're in Chicago, will you go to Trapper John's and get me some of those chocolate truffles?"

I mean Trader Joe's, of course.

Such a store as Trader Joe's must be incredibly put-out to be referred to as Trapper John's. Trading is better than trapping, I hear. Less blood and death.

John is the name of my brother-in-law, as well as a euphemism for "bathroom" or "toilet." He's a pretty good guy.

My cousin Patty took me to a Trader Joe's in Seattle, before taking me to the train for my two day journey on the Empire Builder back to Devils Lake and then home. That was the trip I ended up sitting behind a crazy guy who thought everyone was racist and took one of my bottles of water.

I don't know the name of these truffles, but Naomi knows.

She always knows.

The chocolate truffles in question are little more than delectable melt-in-your-mouth chocolate-saturated lard. Very good, and in no way healthy.

One truffle, I discovered, after having eaten four and become curious as to the nutrition content, had about the full day's worth of allowable fat, most of it saturated. Calories...

I try to limit myself to one truffle a day, now. They're pretty good. They have the word "French" in the title, if I remember correctly.

So...French truffles, then. Also, they only come out around Christmas. Perhaps there's some kind of Santa connection, who also only comes out at Christmas, if he actually existed.

"Hey," I said to my nephew Cody on the phone today, as he was telling me what he got for Christmas, which included golf clubs from Santa. "Who is 'Santa' anyway, your mom and dad?"

Cody is old enough to know there's no Santa. My other nephew, however, is not. "You're on speaker phone, auntie," Cody replied.

Oops.

"I got your truffles for you," Naomi informed me in an email yesterday.

I'd recommend them to you, if I knew the name.

Labels: chocolate, family, friends, travel

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Picking places.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

I was emailing a friend last week about places I'd like to go, after he said he was thinking about just visiting Las Vegas for a few days.

"I always wanted to rent a houseboat and spend some time on Lake Powell," I wrote. He replied back that it did look cool, although he mentioned the expense of such a trip.

Drat.

I wrote back. "I also have always wanted to do the canoe trip thing up at Boundary Waters."

He replied that there was a guy from his church who'd been taking group trips up there for a few years and had invited him, but he'd never gone.

Sigh.

My friend said he liked to plan the trips more than picking a place. I love to pick a place and imagine all the things that could be, but the planning (which includes that pesky thing called money) gets me every time.

Last night, as I was writing a letter and listening to XM Classics via Direct TV, Offenbach's Barcarolle came on. Two sopranos sang it ever so sweetly; it's a beautiful song. The show host, once the song had finished, talked about Barcarolles and how ideally one imagined them to be set in Venice, Italy, the songs of gondoliers.

"Can't you just imagine," the man hosting the show said, "gently floating along on a warm, summer evening, to that music?"

Mmmm.

That's my new place.

Even if I never go, it's on my list. I hope you have a similar list. You really should. You never know when you might need it.

Labels: friends, music, travel

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Immortal Beloved.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

My father has been immortalized on Jim's blog.

[The shame isn't reserved just for Lone Prairie, dad. No siree. Bloggers blog everything.]

Jim also has a few follow up posts from his visit here while traveling through North Dakota:

Labels: blogging, family, friends, travel

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Nicaragua Trip Journal: June 2008

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Little frog, big noise.

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A Nica report for those who want to know.

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Paperthin.

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Survival gear.

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No worries.

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Travel journal: The cartoons, the commentary, and the clippings.

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The place.

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Not enough rum.

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Spare a drop more paint.

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Her husband appreciates the vacation.

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The skunk by the outhouse.

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We don't do no work.

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John was a trapper.

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Picking places.

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Immortal Beloved.

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