Saturday, August 28, 2010
Day Twenty-Two: Goodbye & Football in Minnesota
Day Twenty-One: Ausitn, MN, Couchsurfing
We couchsurfed with Dahn and her five children in Austin. Because we were having such a great time with them, we only managed to take a few photos.
Here is Abram with 12-year-old Christina's guinea pig.
Here is Greta and Christina with Christina's bunnies.
In this couchsurfing home, there is Dahn, two boys, Cory and Alex (15 y.o. and 14 y.o) and three girls Journey, Christina, and Tory (13 y.o., 12 y.o., and 12 y.o.). Dahn and her former spouse, Todd, adopted the sibling trio of Destiny (19 y.o. and no longer living at home), Journey, and Christina ten years ago. Then, they adopted Cory seven years ago. Todd lives in Austin and is Dahn's best friend, though no longer her husband.
Dahn taught us to play cribbage and we stayed up way too late talking about children and motocycles (She is an avid rider of her Buell.) and traveling. Every year for the last decade and a half, Dahn has taken a vacation -- by herself -- to some interesting part of the world. She has been on all but one, i.e., Antarctica, of the continents. Recently, she has included one of the children on her annual travel. The child gets to pick the place and help to plan it.
Coincidentally, Rob and Jenna have been telling the children for years that when they each turn sixteen, they may choose anywhere on the planet to travel. At most recent inquiry, Asher picked Madagascar; Greta chose Paris; and Salem selected New Hampshire. Good old exotic NH.
Here is Abram with 12-year-old Christina's guinea pig.
In this couchsurfing home, there is Dahn, two boys, Cory and Alex (15 y.o. and 14 y.o) and three girls Journey, Christina, and Tory (13 y.o., 12 y.o., and 12 y.o.). Dahn and her former spouse, Todd, adopted the sibling trio of Destiny (19 y.o. and no longer living at home), Journey, and Christina ten years ago. Then, they adopted Cory seven years ago. Todd lives in Austin and is Dahn's best friend, though no longer her husband.
Dahn taught us to play cribbage and we stayed up way too late talking about children and motocycles (She is an avid rider of her Buell.) and traveling. Every year for the last decade and a half, Dahn has taken a vacation -- by herself -- to some interesting part of the world. She has been on all but one, i.e., Antarctica, of the continents. Recently, she has included one of the children on her annual travel. The child gets to pick the place and help to plan it.
Coincidentally, Rob and Jenna have been telling the children for years that when they each turn sixteen, they may choose anywhere on the planet to travel. At most recent inquiry, Asher picked Madagascar; Greta chose Paris; and Salem selected New Hampshire. Good old exotic NH.
Day Twenty-One: On the road to Austin, MN
Day Twenty-One: The Corn Palace
We were told by some that the Mitchell Corn Palace is a "must see." Some others said to skip it.
Seeing as though the Corn Palace Festival was happening at the very time we were in Mitchell, we figured that the nay-sayers had to be wrong about the cultural importance of the Palace. The night before we arrived, Kenny Rogers had played the Palace. An icon, a legend, at the Palace.
Apologies to Mr. Rogers in advance -- as he is a likely follower of the blog -- but, even country singers feel the effect of the economic downturn. You've got to really need the money to play there.
The Corn Palace was little more than a mini Worcester Centrum; it was a shrinked down version of this larger venue. The "special" aspect of it was its facade: decorated with various shades of husked and dried corn cobs.
Every year, the Corn Palace facade is stripped off and a new facade is affixed. In the phot above, we are admiring nine different years of nine different facades.
Our vote is split on the Corn Palace: One says "Skip it;" five say "must see." (The one who voted for skipping it however is the most reasonable of the bunch and therefore, her vote should count fivefold.) In the end, a tie.
Seeing as though the Corn Palace Festival was happening at the very time we were in Mitchell, we figured that the nay-sayers had to be wrong about the cultural importance of the Palace. The night before we arrived, Kenny Rogers had played the Palace. An icon, a legend, at the Palace.
Apologies to Mr. Rogers in advance -- as he is a likely follower of the blog -- but, even country singers feel the effect of the economic downturn. You've got to really need the money to play there.
The Corn Palace was little more than a mini Worcester Centrum; it was a shrinked down version of this larger venue. The "special" aspect of it was its facade: decorated with various shades of husked and dried corn cobs.
Our vote is split on the Corn Palace: One says "Skip it;" five say "must see." (The one who voted for skipping it however is the most reasonable of the bunch and therefore, her vote should count fivefold.) In the end, a tie.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Day Twenty: Running Log
Cincinnati, OH; Hannibal, MO; Sterling, CO; Steamboat Springs, CO; Salt Lake City, UT; Pocatello, ID (2x); Driggs, ID; Lusk, WY; and Mitchell, SD.
This evening's run was like all the others: A mere thirty minutes. However, the task has gotten easier and Jenna is traveling a bit farther on each trek.
While out tonight in Mitchell, Jenna was on a designated bike path for a portion of the loop. There were hundreds of grasshoppers on the cement pathway jumping all about to avoid getting stomped upon. Jenna thinks that she managed to miss them all but as she ran the gauntlet, she couldn't help but remember the drive down a country road in Wyoming between Pavillion and Shoshoni. This road was covered in grasshoppers, the big ones, the ones that make a fairly loud sound as they smack open on the fronts of vehicles. The ones that roast on the radiator leaving a pungent stench.
For a moment, Jenna wondered whether these bike path grasshoppers were exacting some sort of cosmic grasshopper revenge upon her. Normal grasshoppers would have jumped back into the grass, right? These did not do so, well at least not in any direct manner. The majority of them hit her legs and torso before making their way to safety. The attack grew more enthusiastic upon the commencement of shrieks of horror coming from the runner's mouth, as if they were saying "Hey, the murderess is getting really upset with all of us popping against her. Keep it up. Call in the second line . . ."
This evening's run was like all the others: A mere thirty minutes. However, the task has gotten easier and Jenna is traveling a bit farther on each trek.
While out tonight in Mitchell, Jenna was on a designated bike path for a portion of the loop. There were hundreds of grasshoppers on the cement pathway jumping all about to avoid getting stomped upon. Jenna thinks that she managed to miss them all but as she ran the gauntlet, she couldn't help but remember the drive down a country road in Wyoming between Pavillion and Shoshoni. This road was covered in grasshoppers, the big ones, the ones that make a fairly loud sound as they smack open on the fronts of vehicles. The ones that roast on the radiator leaving a pungent stench.
For a moment, Jenna wondered whether these bike path grasshoppers were exacting some sort of cosmic grasshopper revenge upon her. Normal grasshoppers would have jumped back into the grass, right? These did not do so, well at least not in any direct manner. The majority of them hit her legs and torso before making their way to safety. The attack grew more enthusiastic upon the commencement of shrieks of horror coming from the runner's mouth, as if they were saying "Hey, the murderess is getting really upset with all of us popping against her. Keep it up. Call in the second line . . ."
Day Twenty: Badlands Scenery
While the full-sun photos are not as brilliant as the sunset ones, they are included to give a sense for the oddness of this place.
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