The little things

I opened up Google Maps this afternoon to plot out a potentially crazy trip for a D3football/D3hoops weekend in November and had to smile -- the default location on that service seems to be a little hit or miss but it remembered who I was today and displayed the satellite image of our neighborhood here in Minneapolis.

It reminded me, also, that I have this list of adjustments that I've had to make (or try to make) over the past few months now that we're not in Northern Virginia anymore.

Such as one that's pretty basic: remembering to dial 1 in front of 703. Definitely not a local call anymore. I think I finally have this down.

Going up and down the creaky stairs from the main level of my parents house to the upstairs. They creaked back then and creak even more now. Only now I'm worried about waking up the kids rather than waking up mom and dad.

Driving at what's considered a normal pace out here. And keeping my hands off the car horn.

Remembering that shows start an hour earlier. Or that 4 is CBS and 9 is Fox rather than NBC and CBS.

Remembering to call the Interstate around here I-94, not I-95. This also took a long time to adjust in the other direction, when on the east coast.

There's a whole new round of remembering what's east of me and what's west of me. In Connecticut I had the same problem, since New York City had been east and north of me for so long that it was ingrained in my head that way. Except getting on 95 ... err, 94 ... err, 95 in Connecticut, NYC was always west and south. Here it's getting away from the thought that Minneapolis is west of me, or north of me, 100 percent of the time. I've confused Cate probably a dozen times already.

But I'm not going back on one thing. I'm going to keep calling it soda. It seems like everyone knows what I mean.

Life behind the wheel

It was 1,262 miles for me to get from Sterling to Minneapolis (and 1,220 for Cate to do the same, thanks to our odometers). Plenty was seen and much was remembered. More was forgotten, though, I'm sure.

Five years ago we drove to Minneapolis for vacation with just two kids in the back seat, Elizabeth, 5-1/2, and Robert, 1. At the end of that trip I turned to Cate and said, "the next time we drive to Minneapolis, it's going to be one way."

And this was it: No return trip coming.

Cellphone camera leaves a lot to be desired, so here's my pathetic attempt at documenting the journey.

Our preferred way to leave Virginia is over the Point of Rocks bridge on U.S. 15. The sign as you depart, however, is fairly understated.

Maryland is a little more glad to see you.

I only wish we could have gone 55 mph on I-70 when we entered Pennsylvania.

This was the view for much of the next two hours, however -- the back of Cate's car or one of a bunch of others. Turned out that after 70 was reduced to one lane, there was an accident, blocking traffic entirely and backing us up more than six miles. We were going 14 minutes per mile for a while.

I am almost always driving the Pennsylvania Turnpike at night. During the daytime it's almost pretty in spots.

We also entered and left West Virginia and entered Ohio, but that was after dark.

Actual PODS containers being moved! Not ours, however.


Yay, Indiana. The halfway point was here somewhere.

Some time after Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! faded out, we escaped Hoosierland.

We passed a pair of vintage cars in Illinois. Or maybe Indiana. Or Iowa. No, definitely Illinois.

Took us a long time to get through Illinois. We stopped for lunch and then had some panicky moments where gas stations were few and far between.

Final destination. Or final border stop anyway. After a bathroom break and a hail storm we finally got to Minneapolis, after 11 p.m. Not much of a sign on U.S. 52 after crossing the border into Minnesota.

Inside the house

The kids have been wonderful today (so far) by letting us sleep in a little. Robert even played a little trick on ole dad. He came to me with the phone and whispered "Quick, Mom. What's daddy's cell phone number?" So he called Patrick and left a "Hi Daddy" message. He giggled through it; he was very pleased with his trick and wanted me to blog about it.

What's even better is that he forgot to hang up after his hello so the phone recorded him explaining (in detail of course) how he left a message.

Now that the morning hijinks are over it's time to buckle down and prepare for the painters to come on Monday.