Adventure Friday: Traveling with grief and a budget

Today, Andy and I are finishing up our second crosscountry road trip from the east coast to Salt Lake City. Although we followed the exact same route both times, these road trips are wildly different from each other.

Traveling with Grief

When we first did the trip in October 2011, we were driving Andy's tiny Nissan Sentra, overpacked and loaded down with Andy's life belongings. This week, we're driving a zippy Volkswagen Passat, just purchased from a family member and my first ever car. In October 2011, we were giddy with the excitement of Andy's new job and new life. We were awed by the stretches of country we had never seen. This week, although our eyes still saw the beauty of endless blue sky and scrappy pine bluffs, we also felt the burdens of anxiety and sadness. Worries about work, money, family, self, and loss lurked somewhere within the hum of the tires, the vibrations of the engine, the gusting of wind. 

Eating on a Budget

One difference that I've really enjoyed is our approach to food this week. In 2011, we mostly ate at restaurants along the road. We're pretty broke this time, so we packed all of our food with us: instant oatmeal, peanut butter, bread, trail mix, cheese, beer, Red Bull, and a huge batch of spaghetti with homemade sauce. We wash our reusable bowls and utensils with Dr. Brauner's liquid soap in the hotel sinks, and we refill our big coffee mugs at each hotel breakfast.

Let me tell you, at the end of a long driving day, there are few things more comforting than those spaghetti leftovers.

Love begins with 'W'

One thing that has stayed the same is my love for wind turbines and Wyoming. I think my mom would have liked both, too.

Survival Monday: Snow days of the northeast blizzard

On Friday, the day of my mom's burial, a blizzard hit the northeast. We went to bed on Friday night, dazed and shell-shocked, but without too much worry about snow. We woke up on Saturday morning, however, to 30 inches of snow and even higher drifts.

Good morning!

Luckily, we still had power, food, and (some) booze. Even better, we had four pairs of hands and one powerful snowblower to clear the cars and the driveway.

Snow-blowing up a storm

Unfortunately, the condition of our street, like many others, left a little to be desired.

Our road

The snowstorm gave me more time to spend with my father and brother. We drank coffee in sunny windows, mixed cocktails by the fire, and released pent up tension by shoveling snow.

It also gave me more time to spend with myself. I practiced some yoga, cooked comforting meals, and compiled a few blog posts. I also learned that it's too easy to distract myself from grief with a book or the Internet.

Cabin fever footpaths through the street

As of Sunday afternoon, the snowplows still hadn't come to our street. Although forced relaxation can be a wonderful thing, Andy (who flew out for the wake and funeral) and I are anxious to get back to our own apartment in Utah. Andy and I have a rare opportunity to buy a good car from a family member, and we were originally planning on driving back to Utah from New Jersey. Our biggest obstacle was getting off of the unplowed street, and our days allotted for driving across country were quickly diminishing.

So, we decided to take matters into our own hands.

My parents' house is just half a block away from a plowed "snow emergency road." Sunday morning, we considered trudging through the snow to the corner, to have a car service pick us up. Instead, Andy's father went above and beyond, and he picked us up from said corner and brought us back to New Jersey so we can begin our road trip.

Today, I am grateful for pleasant snow days, healthy bodies, good food, loving family, and a supportive partner—and his amazing family.

Adventure Friday: Celebrating small adventures

On the evening of February 4, World Cancer Day, my mother passed away. After multiple rounds of chemotherapy and two stem cell transplants, Mom was cancer free. And yet, she died. 

Her death followed a six-month yo-yo between crisis and small improvements in health. After her battle with cancer, her body was weak enough that the smallest illnesses became life-threatening. Her lungs consistently took the brunt of these battles. In the end, her lungs failed her.

As my father, brother, and I pour through old photo albums, it becomes easier to remember the woman my mom was before her downward spiral. Mom was compassionate woman who overcame great challenges in her life to find confidence, happiness, optimism, and adventure.

She loved New York City. Mom took this snapshot of lower Manhattan at the beginning of a Bermuda cruise with her future sister-in-law. 

She loved that I lived in New York City. Every visit became an adventure, from our playful day at the New York Botanical Gardens in the Bronx...

... to our splurge on Wicked Tickets...

...to wandering aimlessly through the changing neighborhoods of Manhattan.

She loved music. In 2009, at the age of 54, she attended a music festival by herself just to see Crosby, Stills and Nash. Somehow, feisty as ever, she managed to get right up to the stage. 

She loved that my brother played music. Every single one of his performances was an adventure.

Most precious of all, she found adventure in small moments. She could take joy in stillness. She built a strong and loving foundation of family and taught her children to explore the world with curiosity and confidence. Each of my own adventures is a sprout of the seed she planted.