Comma Dot Comma

Well, we did it.  We did our internet research and printed some stuff out.  We walked into a dealership and, after three or so hours, walked out with a bunch of papers commanding us to pay money to the bank regularly, and a set of keys to a 2002 Subaru Outback.  It’s white to reflect the sun and it has all wheel drive to help us down the twisty dirt roads.  There’s lots of space in back to cram our junk in when necessary. It’s a substantial car and drives like it means it. By sheer happenstance it is the L.L. Bean Edition and therefore has leather seats and gold-tone alloy on the wheels.  Leather seats? Gold wheels? Little old me?  I didn’t own a car until I got married, and that one was a gift.  The second one was a gift, too.  The third we paid cash for at somebody’s house.  All three cars were at least 10 years old and had their little quirks.  Probably, if we’d had a little more liquidity this time around, we would have continued the pattern.  But necessity rang its little bell and we joined the ranks of the auto-loan buyers.   If I’m going to become enmeshed in the buying-on-credit system, I might as well get something I actually like that won’t break every three months, and I’ve been a longtime admirer of the Outback.  So, voila.  I feel weird about owing money and also weird about driving around in a car that doesn’t look old and world-weary.  Other than that, it’s excellent.

And here are a few pics my dad took of the townhouse, for those who are wondering how things are looking round these parts.

I was sleeping in the car yesterday with my mouth gaping and my head lolling from side to side (my usual mode) when Dr. G. woke me. First he patted my knee. When that didn’t work, he put his fingers under my chin and gently closed my mouth. I jolted upright, feeling vague shame at falling asleep again and at my incorrigibly floppy jaw. But then the car curved around a bend, and the red and white mesas surrounding Sedona loomed over the brush- and cacti- covered terrain. I’ve admired these formations in magazines and calendars, but when they unexpectedly fill the skyline it is another experience altogether. It’s a feeling of subjugation, of being cowed and out-maneuvered by beauty. Where the desert around Phoenix is hardy, windswept, requiring the closest of attentions, the mesas are drastic and extravagant.There is nothing to do but look as long as you can, then stare at your lap awhile, then look some more.
We were on a trip to celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary with a day hike in the canyons followed by dinner in a restaurant with a view. We’re finally starting to feel like something other than newlyweds– our shared memories cover too much territory. If I were to name this phase, I’d call it the “Got-Your- Back Phase,” like in the movies when Mr. and Mrs. Smith fend off the troops inside Costco, standing back to back, swapping knives and bullets. It’s strange to remember that, barring untimely death and unforseen circumstances, we’re only 1/6th of the way through our marriage! We’ve still got most of the way to go.

I’ve never met anyone like Dr. G. There is something about him that is essential and unchanging; when we stopped briefly on our hike to wade in the creek, he crouched unmoving over a slow pool,the late afternoon sunlight slanting across his blond hair, waiting for the tiny fish to swim into his hands. He would have done exactly the same thing as a five-year-old. He stopped to pick apples from an abandoned orchard and to watch the sunlight reflecting off the ripples of water onto the canyon walls. When something in the mix of scents triggered a faint childhood memory of mine (“I think the trunk of that tree might smell good”), he was the first to bury his nose in the bark and announce its similarity to butterscotch. He is obviously not the only person to experience the outdoors with all his senses, but the way he goes about it hints at his younger selves and gives me clues to his future ones. His uncomplicated continuity is remarkable, and one of the reasons I would go with him anywhere. It’s very nice to know that apples and creeks and ferns and pine trees and red canyons exist not two hours from where we live, and I can go there with him often.

After I abandoned the blogosphere a few weeks ago, Dr. G and I began an odyssey that took us across the country first from east to west and then from north to south.  Abandoned work on a Friday; abandoned our stuff to professional movers on a Monday; abandoned our car to its new owners on a Tuesday (not a single key left on the keychain at that point!); abandoned Baltimore by plane on that Tuesday afternoon.

In Portland, OR, we picked up a big yellow Penske truck. That is a persuasive vehicle!  It is so high and wide and loud, and above all, yellow!  I love Portland, and the two days we spent hanging out there with, among others, Nerdy Girl and Sumner House Sarah, were sunny and perfect.  The heat wave was just breaking, the streets were shady, and the ambience was so, how-you-say, happening.  Then we trucked south to Salem, home of our alma mater, to visit a few more friends.  Next it was Euguene to pick up more stuff from Dr. G’s parents, as well as visit nearly his entire extended family.  They are stay-in-one-place-for-generations people.  Whenever I am around them, I feel a brief stab of envy.  History! Place! Traditions!  They are among those who have these things in a literal rather than metaphorical or make-them-up-as-you-go-along sense.  But after spending an evening eating well and a morning (ahem) “discussing” how best to ratchet strap the piano, etc, to the side wall of the truck, we pointed our big yellow nose down the road again.  Stopped in Roseburg for breakfast with some cousins.

We trucked on, uninterrupted, to a suburb of Sacramento for a little R-and R with my brother and his family. My two favorite nephews absorbed most of my attention, especially the little one’s knack for lifting his legs, arms, and chest off the ground and holding the position indefinitely.  That’s some serious core strength right there, and he’s only been alive about four months.  The older one kept me busy building forts, telling stories, and playing favorite games, such as “Uncle Gavin Laying on the Floor.”  Apparently this game involves my youngest brother laying on the floor passively and letting the nephew jump all over him.  I was a poor substitute for Uncle Gavin, since I said “Ow! Quit it!” a lot.  I had a nice long dip in the American River, too.

From there it was down to the L.A. area for a night with the newlyweds, who invited us to stay with them despite their newly-wedded state.  Ain’t that sweet? When I was a newlywed I didn’t talk to anyone except the Mr. for about six months, but I’m lame like that. I am happy to report that I repaid the wonderful hospitality of my sister and her man by winning them in a game of Settlers of Catan.  YESSS.

The next day it was across the desert to Phoenix, where we met my parents, who are, as it turns out, a most indespensable duo.  After three days of unpacking and arranging, we’re at the point of ensconsed-ness that usually takes us five weeks to reach.  I won’t even go into how well-packed the storage area is. It’s like magic!