Not Right

I happened a reason to take my glasses off for a moment tonight, sticking the temple in my mouth for barely a moment.

What concerned me is that the end of the glasses tasted good, a sweet honey flavor. I cannot begin to justify this reality or properly determine how I ought to have handled the situation.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip – Day 11: The Line

At 11:00pm tonight, as I headed to the bathhouse of our campground to brush my teeth, I happened upon a couple (the wife holding a flashlight and the husband a wet-nap), as they were wiping the derriere of their Shitzu.
I’m not sure what to say.
I realize that pets have increased their individual value in modern days, and I don’t want to open an avenue of discussion on the appropriateness of $X000s surgeries to extend the life of a pet who is more at peace with their death than we are, but at some point, if you are on vacation in your motor home, and are forced to get out of bed to manually wipe you dog’s ass…
There must be a line somewhere, somewhere very near here.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 7: Welcome to America

Walking stride in stride down the thoroughfare of Mt Rushmore’s viewing area with a Japanese couple. He is speaking in rhythmic tones, rather interesting to listen to, which is why I am eavesdropping. Every 5-10 seconds, the cadenced Japanese is interrupted with “Crazy Horse” (a similar sculpture to Mt. Rushmore not far down the tracks). The tone is not “Crazy Horse”, as in “Hey, Crazy Horse, come on over for a Sunday lunch” or “You know Crazy Horse, he’s crazy.” But rather, “CRAZY HORSE, you b*st*rd! I will get even if it is the last thing I do.”
This continues for 4-5 repetitions, while the wife listens quietly to her husband’s obvious disagreement with this long-dead Sioux, until the next discernable statement is “Water Slide”, said without the same vigor, at which point two random Japanese children come out of the woodwork yelling “Yeah!” It is like a scene from a Miyazaki film.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 6: Don’t be a Poser

Tonight was the 2nd time I have been fooled by the promise of sweet tea. One should know that foreigners do not know how to make sweet tea, and that when you leave the homeland, you must make do with unsweet or whiskey.
I blame myself: I know the rules and had every logical reason to question my ears, but when a restaurant claims they serve sweet tea, and you’ve driven a long way with four kids, you get weak-minded, and make mistakes that would embarrass your forefathers.
I also blame the communists who invented Gold Peak products, developing their syrup-based ‘tea-beverage’ in a Siberian industrial lab and distributing their non-carbonated soft drink to unknowing restaurateurs around America. I give the Frenchies a pass; no one is gullible enough to pass off Nestea as anything other than what it is.
I realize the temptation to drink non-brewed tea; your tea-fast has weakened you, and the waitress smiles so nice, and it seems rude to ask if the tea is brewed or some hostile upstart; I implore you to hold strong and stay faithful to the Luzianne of our parents, grandparents, and the Disciples.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip – Day 6: South Dakota, You Are Welcome

In typical Bowling-fashion, we bypassed the Rapid City metropolis with its two modern hotels for Hot Springs, town of 891 people on the far end of Mt Rushmore. We also decided a Teepee would be an adventure within an adventure. Allen Guest Ranch was happy to oblige.
It is safe to say that Allen’s website was a bit misleading. Clocked at 0.43 miles from the cinder-block bathhouse (measured via the car odometer by my wife), the teepees where not exactly what one would call ‘clean’, ‘not-musty’ or ‘infestation-free’. I spent the first 20 minutes grabbing and tossing grand-daddy long-legs from the inner walls; an activity repeated every two hours throughout the night.
And since we decided to camp in a tube with a hole in the roof and another on its side, it rained 1.5” as soon as we unpacked and began to set up. I suppose if we had washed our car, a monsoon would have happened upon us. For a high desert town that receives 14” of rain per year, I do believe we deserve your thanks.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 5: Being an Artist Comes at a Price

Salem, South Dakota

There are certain advantages to one's choice of residence. A New Yorker gains first access to the world: Broadway, music, fashion… but must live in close proximity with the masses of humanity. A Cajun’s taste buds live in the luxury of Po Boys, etouffee, boudin, Tabasco… but must live with other Cajuns and an unreal quantity of bugs. And if you choose the Great Plain States, you embrace Americana, with open skies, the world’s food supply at your feet, and distance everywhere you turn.
This distance has its own price, impressing itself on each resident, molding them in both subtle and distinct ways. For the artist Porter, political science major turned sheep farmer turned metal sculpture artist living in a trailer amidst his work (searching for something), 28 years of the Great Plains has made its mark on both him and the landscape.
(insert link to picassa album of photos)

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip, Day 4: KC

Props to Kansas City for recovering from the St. Louis fiasco. Whereas St. Louis reminded me of ATL in 1988, KC was a modern Columbus, GA, clean, vibrant, interesting. I wish the Royals had been on a homestand.

And while I do not care to make a habit of it, KC pulled off gourmet BBQ. As a proper Southerner, I don't see the point in getting all uppity about comfort food. But when in Rome...