We left on Saturday, July 18th, a little later than planned because nobody but me wanted to get up. Teen A sleeps on the couch in the living room most nights, and he kept sleeping while everyone was getting ready around him. When he finally got up, he started complaining about the trip. "Why are we driving? It's such a long way!" I was quite flummoxed by this, because he'd known it was a driving trip from the beginning. He likes to drive! Also, I'd given him the option of staying home, and he said no, he wanted to go to California. And now this. Well, I had thought our spring break trip in March might be our last big family trip and was surprised to find that everyone wanted to do a summer trip too. Now one member had changed his mind. I had known this would be a challenging trip and it had suddenly gotten much more challenging.
We finally got on the road (with Teen A as the driver), but then we started arguing about what route to take. Rocket Boy tried to get Teen A to take Highway 287 and he wouldn't. That was something new. As we drove along I-25 instead, we passed Buc-ee's on the other side of the highway, and Teen A said, "How about we just stop at Buc-ee's" and you go on without me?" And at that point we knew, if we didn't already, what the problem was. He wanted to stay with his girlfriend, or at least not be away from her for 12 days. If we left him at Buc-ee's, she could come pick him up. Maybe it was even her idea.
Well, we didn't do that. I try not to express anger toward the kids (because it's pointless and damaging), but I got mad then. I told him, now is not the time to act like this. We gave you plenty of warning, we gave you the opportunity to back out. But now I have all those hotel rooms reserved and it's too late to cancel. If I had known you weren't coming, I could have just gotten one room for the three of us, but because you said you wanted to come, I got two rooms for each night. Everyone is expecting you, everyone is looking forward to seeing you. The cat sitters are coming. We are not dropping you off at Buc-ee's and that's final.
So, that was a rough beginning, and then I had to spend a lot of time -- really, the rest of the trip -- repairing the damage. But things got better. We stopped for lunch at a Perkins in Laramie, Wyoming, and I encouraged Teen A to order whatever he wanted, which included fried pickles. I had a large peach muffin, which amused the group.
Once we checked in to our two rooms, Teen A plugged into his devices and checked out. He didn't want to come to dinner (at Denny's in the travel center), but he agreed to let me bring him a brownie sundae. Cyclosporiasis was all over the news, and people were being advised not to eat lettuce or berries. Rocket Boy ordered a salmon salad (complete with lettuce) and I ordered a berry waffle (Teen B had wings). Oh well.
After dinner we all went in the hotel pool and hot tub, even Teen A. We got to the pool about 15 minutes before it closed at 10, but the hotel manager let us stay as long as we wanted. And then it was time for showers and bed. I shared a room with Teen A that night and I slept very very well.
Sunday, July 19th, was another long day. First we had to drive 100 miles to the Nevada border, and then another 100 miles or so to Elko, Nevada, where we had lunch.
Rocket Boy really wanted us to eat at a Basque restaurant in Nevada, but most of the ones I looked up were either closed altogether on Sundays, or only open for dinner. I did find one in Elko that was sort of a Basque restaurant, Toki Ona, so we went there. It was mostly an American restaurant, kind of a hole in the wall, but there were some Basque dishes, so Rocket Boy ordered one: "Lomo and eggs." Basque food is basically meat, though, so this was pork. Rocket Boy does not normally eat pork, but he bravely worked his way through the "lomo." The restaurant's portions were large. I had a BLATT sandwich and couldn't even eat half -- it came with a large bowl of soup and I couldn't finish that either.
Full of Basque-ish food, and gas ($4.749/gallon) we drove on. We had another 300 miles or so to drive before we reached Reno, where we were having dinner with my old college roommate (from 1978!). She had googled our route and decided we wouldn't arrive until late in the evening, so she suggested we eat on the road and come to their place for dessert. I explained that Teen A drives very fast, and it probably wouldn't take that long. "At the moment," I texted, "he is going 87 mph." When we got to my old roommate's house, she greeted Teen A with "Hello, 87!"
We hung around for a while, hoping for more, but all we could see besides this sign was a lizard on a rock (see photo above). So finally we gave up and drove on to Grace's. She and her husband live in a gated community in south Reno, and her daughter lives fairly close by, so she joined us for dinner, along with her little dog, an elderly bichon frise. Grace and Ron have a little dog too, a miniature white poodle, but the dogs were very polite and didn't beg. Dinner was frozen pizza (but very good, I should ask them what the brand was) and salad, with fruit and ice cream and decaf coffee for dessert.
We had a lovely dinner and conversation, enlivened by Grace's daughter, who had changed a lot in the 15 years or so since I last saw her. I also really like Grace's husband. I always remember when she got involved with him, back, hmm, 40 years ago? "His word is his bond," she told me. That was what impressed her about him, not his looks or his earning power or whatever. And he's still like that. You can tell he's an honorable person. The whole family has been through a lot and they are just great people.
When we left, Grace thanked me again and again for coming, and I told her over and over that it was Rocket Boy who got us there. He always wants to add things to trips: let's go see this thing, let's call up this person. I try to curb his enthusiasms, but he's always right, it's always better to add things. Especially in this case.
Monday, July 20th, we finally crossed the border. I didn't want to take horrible I-80 through California, so I had planned that we would take Highway 88 over Carson Pass (that's why we stayed in Carson City), which I don't remember ever doing before. We got gas before we left ($4.399/gallon) in anticipation of higher prices in California. It was very pretty driving along 395 on the eastern side of the Sierra and also going over the mountains. At one point we got stuck in a lot of road construction, but it wasn't too bad. We just rolled down our windows and tried to identify the butterflies flitting about.
There were some places I might have wanted to stop, plaques and signs and things along the road, but I didn't want to irritate the kids. If it had been just Rocket Boy and me, we would have stopped. Maybe in the future we will have some trips together (without the kids) where we can stop and look at everything we come across.
Stockton has a bad reputation for crime, etc., but driving through, it looked like kind of an attractive city. But after we got through it, we were on all the terrible freeways that lead to the Bay Area. I-5 to 205 to 580 to 680 to 880. We were actually not in the worst of the traffic (that was going the other direction), but there's something about that maze of freeways that just horrifies me. How can people live like this, is the question that keeps going through my head. I know, California weather is great, there are lots of good jobs in the Bay Area... but seriously, why would you put up with all that (if you hadn't grown up there, like my family)? I would never in a million years relocate to California now. Fortunately, I'd never be able to afford to, so it won't happen.
We got to my sister's house in Santa Clara around 3:30 or so, and Nancy and the bulldog came out to greet us. What a relief to be out of traffic! We just crashed for a while, and then went over to the Holiday Inn Express & Suites which is walking distance from Nancy's house. Nancy has enough space to accommodate our whole family, especially since her husband was out of town, but I had gotten a hotel room as well just to take the pressure off. I had thought the twins could trade off sleeping there, but in fact Rocket Boy and Teen B stayed there the whole time, while Teen A and I slept in the two sofabeds at Nancy's. That worked out pretty well, I think. Rocket Boy swam in the hotel pool several times and used the weight room and the hotel computer. He is not a huge dog fan, nor is Teen B, so they were happy to have a place to go to get away from the bulldog, and I was happy to spend more time with the bulldog, who is adorable. She's a handful, though. One evening I laid out my clothes for the next day on my sofabed and then someone left the dog gate open and the bulldog went in and got my shirt (Nancy got it away from her before she ate it).
I watched TV with my sister: baseball games, an episode of a mystery series, part of a movie on Netflix. I almost never watch TV at home except for the NewsHour, so this was a treat.
We took one walk with the bulldog, but it was at a faster pace than my knee could tolerate (I couldn't go as fast as a bulldog -- that's pretty bad), so I didn't take another. We had a couple of days of hot weather, but then it cooled down and was very pleasant. For dinner that first night, Nancy and the guys went to Chili's, but I wasn't hungry (still full of salami), so I stayed behind and had a glass of milk and two homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Heaven.
Tuesday, July 21st, we went over to my sister Barbara's for lunch and sat around chatting for a few hours. Then, after a stop at the local Starbucks (I got a S'mores Frappuccino, not at all my usual drink, but we were on vacation and it was hot), we went back to Santa Clara and for dinner we got takeout from World Wrapps. I went with Nancy to pick up the food and was struck again by the crowds. Crowded city streets, a completely full parking lot. I mean, Boulder can be crowded too, and of course so can Denver and the surrounding suburbs, but this was worse. It's what Colorado has to look forward to as it continues to fill up.
I had brought one Mounjaro shot with me, in a ziploc bag inside a water bottle filled with (originally) cool water, and I took it on Tuesday night. I wasn't sure if it would still be functional, but it seemed to be, so I was a little sickish and low energy for the next few days, but that was OK.
We took the old way there, going through San Francisco on 19th Avenue and crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. We parked at the Welcome Center and went into the gift shop where Rocket Boy bought some postcards for himself and some chocolate-covered pretzels for our crabby driver, and I bought a Golden Gate Bridge magnet for $7.95 -- which I now can't find. It'll probably turn up.
The dogs were followed by my cousin, Ian, who made an attempt to call them off. I hadn't seen him since 2017, nine years, and so of course I was expecting him to look older. What I wasn't expecting was for him to have essentially turned into our grandmother Ethel. His face just looked so much like hers when she was old. When I told this to my sisters later, my older sister said she always thought Ian resembled his mother's side of the family, in other words not the side we have in common. I don't know, I said, I only know what I saw.
We had lunch indoors with my cousins: pizza, salad, and fruit and ice cream, the same menu we had with Grace in Reno, and equally delicious. The dogs stayed outside, watching us through the big windows. We talked and talked and talked, could have gone on talking for hours, I think. I brought them up to date on their other cousins, who they don't keep in touch with, and then I asked them about their cousins on the other side of the family (who we had met on the hiking trips we used to take), but they weren't really up to date on them either. It fascinates me the way many (most?) people don't seem to care greatly about staying in touch with relatives. To me, it's hugely important. I'm not sure why.
Last night I dreamed I was back at Ian's house, back in that conversation. In the dream, my cousin Terry asked what everyone thought about the value of individual human lives. I said, in the dream, that I felt their value should be a postulate in any such discussion. In the dream, Ian's wife Ellyn, who died four years ago, was alive and well, cleaning up the kitchen, and I realized that we were actually participating in a video of the past, probably from about 2005 (because the twins weren't born yet, Ian and Terry's parents were gone, but our Uncle Bob was alive and also visiting). Whatever that means.
My cousins are getting old too. Ian said he doesn't do much of the work in the vineyard anymore. I wondered who would take over for him after he's gone, but somehow couldn't quite ask that.
Teen A got bored and went back to sit in the car. Rocket Boy was of course fascinated by everything, so he and Ian walked ahead, talking, talking. My other cousins came driving up -- they needed to get on the road. I felt bad because I hadn't talked to Diane about genealogy. She's my fellow genealogy buff and we would have had so much to say to each other, and here I was learning about vineyards instead. It's just impossible on these short visits to say all the things you want to say, have all the conversations you want to have. We had a short talk while she sat in the car and then they were gone.
Teen B and I walked back up to the house and opened up the swimming pool (it has a cover that you open by pushing a button). There wasn't time to get changed and go swimming, but we swung our legs in the water.
Absolutely idyllic.
Then we really needed to get back on the road, because of the traffic, so we left. Got gas in Kenwood ($5.399/gallon) and also stopped at a gas station ON 19TH AVENUE, which is practically illegal, so Teen A could use the restroom. In any case, the traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared. We made it to my sister Barbara's house by a little before 6 pm, just in time for dinner with the family, including my niece and her daughter who had flown up from Los Angeles that afternoon. Dinner was Chinese food. I didn't have much of an appetite, due to the shot, but there were so many people around the table -- eleven! -- that it got eaten. My niece and her daughter were staying in the same hotel as Rocket Boy and Teen B, so carpooling was easy.
My niece got a coconut smoothie from one store, and Teen B and I got boba from another, but I didn't think it was very good. The store recommended that you get light ice and 75% sugar, so it wasn't cold enough and it wasn't sweet enough. And all the boba got stuck together at the bottom. I eventually threw mine away.
Thursday night we had pizza and salad for dinner at Barbara's, with ice cream for dessert. Delicious again, even though it was our third such meal on the trip. I guess you can't really go wrong with that menu.
On Friday, July 24th, Rocket Boy went off on his own to two museums: the Computer History Museum in Mountain View and the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum in San Jose. No one else wanted to go with him. I felt bad that we hadn't done anything fun with the twins, but neither of them really wanted to do any of the things we suggested (definitely not a computer history museum). They mostly just wanted to stare at their phones (more evidence that this is our last big family trip).
Rocket Boy and I share our locations with each other on our phones, so I was able to watch him as he toured both museums. A little creepy, but that's modern life. The rest of us just hung out at Barbara's in the afternoon, and my niece and her daughter made a New Yorker cover jigsaw puzzle (others helped a little). It was so nice to relax and talk and just be together.
The plan for Friday night was that we (minus Barbara's family) would go back to Nancy's (Barbara drove some of us there, no Waymos that time) and get takeout before my niece and her daughter had to catch their plane. But since their plane was delayed, they decided to take an earlier flight and skip dinner. Nancy took them to the airport and then picked up dinner for us from a Greek restaurant on the way home.
Our first destination was Solvang, to visit my cousins (actually my father's cousin, so my first cousin once removed, and her husband -- I'll just say "cousins") who had moved to a retirement community there. When we saw them two years ago, they were packing up their beautiful house in San Luis Obispo, preparing for this move, and I found the visit rather depressing. It made me so happy to see that they've landed in a wonderful place, a little "cottage" just the right size for the two of them. It reminded me of my mother's apartment at Palo Alto Commons, a distillation of her former home with all the best parts retained. They even have a little backyard, chock full of flowering plants (and there were beautiful flowers in front of the cottage too). I found myself thinking that I would like to live at Atterdag Village when I get older, although my cousin's husband whispered to me, "It's very expensive." My cousin is almost 88 and her husband is (I think) 93, so it's a good safe place for them to be.
We had lunch at the restaurant at the golf course -- outside on the terrace, which was a little warm, but there was a breeze and we were under an umbrella, so it was nice. There was a lovely view. We talked and talked (and talked and talked more back at their cottage, where we had fruit and ice cream for dessert). A flock of blackbirds visited us, and my cousin said that sometimes there are grackles and even yellow-billed magpies! But no magpies that day.
Instead, we got a phone call, and here I should back up and explain some things. We were planning that on Sunday we would visit Rocket Boy's Aunt Dolores (his late uncle's second wife) who lives in Chino, California. We had already had multiple conversations about the visit with both Dolores and her grand-niece, who lives in Texas but supervises her care. The grand-niece seemed a little horrified that we were coming, some mention was made of how messy Dolores' mobile home was, but she finally decided that Dolores's son, who lives with her, would take her to an Olive Garden restaurant in Chino around noon on Sunday and we would meet her there. Dolores is 95 and has many health problems and would likely only be able to stay for a little while, but we would see each other and exchange hugs, so that would be something.
It's possible that this was true, of course. It's also possible that the son just didn't want to deal with us. Both Rocket Boy and I remembered a visit we made to his mother's best friend, who was dying of cancer, back in the early 2000s (before we were married). The friend, Virginia, was being cared for by a relative, and the relative did NOT want us to come by. She told Rocket Boy on the phone not to come, but he ignored her, and when we got to the house I guess politeness prevented her from forbidding us to come in, but oh boy, was she ever not happy. And yet, Virginia very much wanted to see Rocket Boy and they had a wonderful meeting and farewell.
Rocket Boy toyed with the idea of going to Chino anyway, knocking on the door of the mobile home and demanding entrance, but I didn't think it would be good, especially with the twins along, especially if things got unpleasant. And maybe Dolores really was doing badly. Maybe.
Our hotel that night was a Sonesta ES hotel in Chatsworth, 114 long, congested miles from Solvang. Rocket Boy and Teen A had stayed there and liked it when they came for Cousin June's funeral in April, but on this trip we had some issues with it. First of all, they gave us a room on the third floor (and the hotel has no elevators). I walked up to the third floor, but my knee complained all the way. How was I going to be able to go up and down with luggage, etc.? So Rocket Boy went back to the front desk and somehow convinced them to give us a room on the first floor. (My husband is amazing.)
The "room" was actually a two-bedroom suite with an additional sofabed, the type of room I had mainly avoided on this trip, but RB wanted to stay at that hotel. And I looked at the king-size bed and I looked at the sofabed, and I asked Teen B if he would be willing to sleep on the sofabed, let Teen A (the driver) have the queen bed, and let Rocket Boy and me have the king bed. He agreed, but he wasn't happy. It was getting late, and Teen A and Rocket Boy were hungry, so they drove off to the Cheesecake Factory. Teen B was mad, so he didn't want to go, and I was still full from lunch, so I didn't go. I went swimming in the lovely pool, but Teen B was mad and wouldn't go with me. Let's just say this hotel wasn't a good choice (although the pool was great -- I'd go back if it was just me and Rocket Boy, no cranky twins). Oh, and we had to pay an extra $10/day for parking! So ridiculous.
Kristi's husband Rick told us where to buy the cheapest gas in the area, so we did that (it was $5.299/gallon), and we got on the road again. Skipping Chino, we headed for Amboy, on Route 66, 217 hot miles away. We stopped at a Starbucks in Barstow for a break (see photo above), because I had promised the kids we could have Starbucks every day, and up to that point we had only had it once. I ordered my usual Iced Horchata Shaken Espresso with Light Ice, but when I got it, it seemed to have a LOT of ice in it. Then I looked at the label on my reusable cup: it said "Add Ice." I figured in Barstow (where it was over 100 degrees), people normally want extra ice.
The sign said that hiking to the crater was recommended only between October and April. I was sure Rocket Boy was going to do it anyway, but reluctantly he got back in the car.
After this we still had 80 miles to go to our hotel in Needles. Rocket Boy's car tells him how many more miles he can drive on the amount of gas he has left, and in this case it said we could go about 120 miles. A 40-mile cushion, in other words. But we were running the air conditioning at full blast, and as we drove, that cushion evaporated. Running out of gas in the desert when it's over 110 degrees, hmm... We finally pulled off the highway when we saw a gas station -- but they were out of gas, only had diesel. So we kept going. We arrived in Needles with about 10 miles left in the tank. The first gas station we went to was out of gas too, but there was another station next to it that did have gas. We filled up. It was $6.799/gallon and I paid for it happily.
Monday, July 27th, we had breakfast at the hotel and then got on the road again. The goal was to be somewhere where it wasn't 116 degrees, and Arizona obliged. It was much cooler in Flagstaff, where we stopped for lunch at a place called the Wildflower. None of us really liked our sandwiches, though. I had a tuna sandwich, which had almonds and apple pieces in it, very tasty, but also mustard and pickles, which kind of ruined it. It's probably a good restaurant if you know what to order.
Before getting on the road again, we made three more stops. First, Target, because Teen A had forgotten the charger for his earbuds. Normally I might have objected to this purchase, but still trying to keep him happy, I paid for it ($18.58) with no comments. Then we stopped at a Starbucks. This time, my usual Iced Horchata Shaken Espresso somehow became an Iced Hazelnut Shaken Espresso. Does Hazelnut sound like Horchata? Anyway, I didn't notice until we were on the road, so I drank it. Wouldn't order it again, though. Oh, and our third stop, of course, was gas: $4.459/gallon.
I continued saying this when we got to the Four Corners Monument and discovered it would cost $10 per person to go in. "We're supporting the Navajo people," I said, after paying. And after we took the obligatory photos in the center where you can put one foot and one hand in each of four states at the same time, I bought a little pair of wildly overpriced lizard earrings at one of the booths. The woman assured me that all her obviously imported from China stuff was "handmade by the Navajo people." It wasn't, but the earrings were very cute. I'm wearing them now.
From the Four Corners it was only about 40 miles to our hotel in Cortez, Colorado, a Days Inn, but it seemed to take forever. We were all really tired of the trip by that point, but we had to keep going. At least we were in Colorado.
I had planned to do laundry at the hotel, but I would have needed 15 quarters and I just didn't have it in me to ask the front desk if they had any. Also, the laundry was on the first floor and our rooms were on the second floor and my knee was bothering me again. I decided we could all wear dirty clothes the next day and no one objected.
We had dinner that night at a restaurant called the Loungin' Lizard, which would have been really good except that there wasn't anything on the menu that appealed to me. Mainly a lot of meat. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and could barely eat half. Teen B ordered French onion soup, and then for some reason my sandwich came with a bowl of White Chicken Chili, so he ate that too. What I should have done was order the peach cobbler to be my dinner. Next time. At every restaurant on the trip, Teen A asked, "Do you do Shirley Temples?" (For some reason, that's his favorite soft drink.) Sometimes they did, sometimes they could do a reasonable approximation, sometimes they just said no. At the Loungin' Lizard they were overjoyed to make him a Shirley Temple, even brought him a second one without asking.
The Days Inn had a nice pool and hot tub, but it also had an enormous extended Mormon family from Hurricane, Utah monopolizing it. A set of grandparents, four young adults and their spouses, and 13 screaming little kids. They were just awful. Hotel pools and hot tubs have sort of unwritten rules of etiquette, one being that you don't monopolize the hot tub. You get in, spend maybe ten minutes or so, and then get out and go back in the pool, to give other people a turn. In the pool, you kind of divide up the space so that some people can swim laps and other (young) people can splash around and be silly. This was how it worked at the pool at the Best Western in Needles, for instance. But maybe this Mormon family had never heard of those rules, or maybe there were just too many of them to care. All the adults except the grandmother were in the hot tub -- so, nine people -- and many of the little kids jumped in and out of it too. The rest of the little kids were in the pool with the grandmother, screaming and hitting each other with pool noodles. The grandmother was having a great time, laughing and telling them not to do various things. They laughed and ignored her.
Teen B and I toughed it out, swimming back and forth across the pool (risking being hit by pool noodles), and at one point we did squeeze into the hot tub, but the Mormon family gave us dirty looks, so eventually we went back to the pool. Rocket Boy came out too, and talked to the grandmother a little. Finally I gave up and went back to the hotel room (where Teen A was plugged into his devices). I realized once I was there that I was actually angry at that family. I tried to jolly myself out of my anger, but I couldn't. Maybe it was just because the trip was almost over and I was tired.
Anyway, I slept well, my last night having a bed all to myself, with the air conditioning turned up high.
Tuesday, July 28th, we had breakfast with the enormous Mormon family, who all showed up to the breakfast room a few minutes after we did. Fortunately we managed to snag a good table before they grabbed them all, and then I was able to observe them more closely. One of the young women had a baby and another was pregnant. I couldn't figure out which of the 13 kids belonged to which mom and dad. They all looked the same, like clones. I felt sorry for them, having to live in Hurricane, Utah, and go on vacation all in one big crowd, with all those screaming children. There was also a Muslim family in the breakfast room, the women all covered up in 100+ degree weather and even the little girls wearing head scarves. Religion is a strange thing.
We did stop in Del Norte, where we had a good lunch at a little restaurant called Boogies. Then we took 112 to 285 and followed that most of the rest of the way home. Got gas in Poncha Springs ($4.789/gallon, hmm, felt like we were back in California) and our last junky snacks of the trip. We drove past Fairplay but didn't stop to check out the cabin. Everyone just wanted to get HOME. Which we did, around 5:30 pm. The cats were puzzled to see us, but seemed pleased, like maybe they remembered us. I texted the cat sitters to let them know we'd made it, and got busy unpacking and doing laundry. Sillers had peed on our bed, so we had to wash our bedding. It was fine. No quarters were required. It felt so good to be home.
And that, I assume, is our last big family road trip. It could have been a little better, but it also could have been much worse. We survived, even Teen A (the reunion between him and his girlfriend was very sweet). I just loved seeing all the family members and friends, spending time with them, talking talking talking. Rocket Boy took photos of many of the various gatherings, and in every picture I have a big grin on my face and very fat arms (in whatever sleeveless top I'm wearing). Looking at the pictures, I wonder why I have to have such fat arms. But you know, when you're the fattest person in the room, you make the other people feel better about themselves, which is always a good thing. I'm 40 pounds lighter than I was when we visited two years ago, and I am NOT going to stop wearing sleeveless tops. Think about the big smiles, not about the big arms. It's all OK.
On Friday I sat down and paid off the credit cards, so we're good there. And now we have a few weeks left of this hot, hot summer, and then the kids will start college. So hard to believe.
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