Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 3: St. Louis is a Hoax

We’ll do our best to keep positive. Left Land Between the Lakes, enjoyed a drive through Paducah, KY (birthplace of Stephen Curtis Chapman and Jim Gregory), downed a dozen wonderful homemade donuts, and headed to St. Louis.

Before climbing the Arch, we stop by Pappy’s Smokehouse, made famous by Man-v-Food. Yes, it is Sunday lunch, in a town where EVERY OTHER restaurant in a ten mile radius is closed for the Sabbath, which has been shown on Travel Channel for dozens of marathons… surely the line out the door is an allusion. After learning that the line represented a one hour wait to get inside, but before learning that EVERY OTHER restaurant in a ten mile radius is closed for the Sabbath, we decide to look for another establishment.

It did not go so well. At some point, Louise is quietly crying in the back of the van. “What’s the matter?” “I’m hot, I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”

Finally have to leave the city, drive to the suburbs and eat a Qdoba. Forget the Arch – just a stupid American treasure and structural engineering wonder.

Night spent at the Oak Grove KOA in Mo. Two room cabin with A/C and a pool full of old people.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 2: Kid listens to his Mom

A late addition to the previous edition: while walking Garrett to the bathhouse for him to take a shower before bed, he explained the rules: “If a man goes into a woman’s bathroom, he’s damn. If a woman goes into a man’s bathroom, she’s damn.” “Umm, Garrett… where’d you learn that word?” “Uhhh, I don’t know. I made it up.”

Works for me.

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip - Day 2: Redneck Homeschool Day

Spent the morning swimming in Kentucky Lake on the Tennessee River. Mags asks after an hour wading in the roped off swimming area, “Why is it that people think that swimming in lakes is redneck?” I’m not sure how to begin:

• the rules about who can wear bikinis is different on lakes, 
• the group buffet table consists of white bread, bologna, and Miller Lite, 
• there’s no salt in the water to filter the urine, 
• the cumulative weight of our 6-person family is well below average.

After a lunch of sliced cucumbers and Buddig ham, we showered the kids and ventured over to Home Place, a well-done mock vintage village. Maggie reminded the kids freshly returned from Roanoke Island, “We’ve gone from the 1580s to the 1850s”. I had to be talked out of buying Garrett a 4’ long wooden rifle. Maggie was right; he would likely knock Eliza into next week before we made it home. Staying with some friends in Colorado Springs next week, so in appreciation, we bought Blackberry Jam and Chow Chow; you’re welcome.

After chasing sheep and asking why people grow tobacco, we headed to the planetarium, where Garrett used his $2 entry fee into the star chart movie to take a solid snore-filled nap. As we walked the museum to learn the local history, our refreshed son cleared up one of American history’s longest running errors: “Mom, that’s not a bison, that’s a buffalo.” Yet another misinformed generation.

To close it out, upon arrival at dinner, a rather fabulous fried catfish affair, Eliza asked at volume 8.5, “Mom, can we have Appletizers?”

Off to bed…

Bowling 2011 Roadtrip, Friday 7/29, Day 1

We begin the trip with a half-day of work, a quick show of the kids to my coworkers, and a traverse of Cobb County. Emily and Louise read their way through the 6 hour drive, feasting on HP Book 4 and 1 respectively. Garrett and Eliza… not so much.
Highlights of the day pretty much begin and end with our first ever White Castle experience in Clarksville, Tn. I’ve spent my adult life listening to the longings of the Carpetbaggers who have populated Atlanta and their pretentious comparison to Krystal. I don’t like Krystal, but I feel a responsibility to defend it for the sake of the South.
Alas, the Yankees are correct. White Castle is solidly better than Krystal; even a White Castle located in small-town Tennessee. To bring proper clarity to my perspective, however, WC’s score of 2/10 doubles Krystal’s 1/10, an intentional back-handed compliment.
A few comments along the way:

• Eliza, trying to break Garrett’s concentration during a coloring competition: “Garrett, look at my belly.”
• When that didn’t work, and he was pulling away, she goes for the potty-humor jugular, “Get your BOOTY out of my face!”
• Eliza: “Mom, you bemember in Princess Bride, the bold guys says 'Hoist the fingy, and othe fingy, and thurd fingy!'”
• Garrett, staying true to his roots, “Liza, smell this napkin. You can still smell the crumbs.”
• Upon arrival to our camper cabin at Piney Camp Ground at Land Between the Lakes, Eliza “LOOK! They [the cabins] are made out of Lincoln Logs!”

Nights One and Two: Stay at a National Recreation Area. Why are there so many different land designations?

Johnny-cake, Johnny-cake, Johnny-cake Roll

That is the title of a old book my dad gave me when I was a kid. I can remember him reading it to me once or twice, and me reading it in my room many times. A country boy named Johnny whose biscuit fell off the table and rolled across the rural landscape, meeting and greeting the old-South along the way. Maybe the cake was named "Johnny"? I loved that book...

... and had forgotten it until yesterday when I see a menu item, "Journey Cake", which my Belizian friend re-pronounced "Johnny Cake", explaining it was like a flat round flour-based item, not sweet, that you eat a breakfast. Sounds familiar.
I ate two Johnny-cakes for breakfast and grabbed two for the plane ride home. There is nothing new under the sun, and the connections between us all are endless.

Hat's Off to the Redneck Riviera

I have the hardship assignment of putting together a Feasibility Study and Conceptual Design for a Wastewater Collection and Treatment system on the Placencia Peninsula, Belize. This 15 mile stretch of beach along the east coast of Central America is considered one of the most pristine of beaches in the region, and it is undoubtedly nice, beautiful, culturally interesting, relaxing...

But for one who grew up a 6 hr drive (plus 30 minutes stop in Dothan to pick up a speeding ticket) up the highway from the Redneck Riviera, generally every other beach in the world pales in comparison. I'm only speaking of the quality of the sand and water; the scenery is pure bonus.

"Climate Change" Covers It All

Attended a community meeting tonight hosted by the Belize Sustainable Tourism Board. In 1999, in grad-school, we had an entire course dedicated to defining what 'sustainability' was, as it was a word no one knew, explicitly understood, or could use in a sentence. Times have changed, and the word, once inserted in any topic, under any circumstance, can bolster your chances at people agreeing with you. As in, "I know we want to win at the meet tonight, but we really need to be thinking about the sustainability of the swim team program." It is the modern 'smurf'.

The pièce de résistance, however, is everyone's concern: Climate Change. As in (and I quote from tonight): "It is important that the Peninsula have a Community Disaster Response Plan in case of Natural Disasters like earthquakes, hurricanes, and climate change."

A quick note: (1) the meeting was very well done, very professional, and successful, and (2) I am a climate change agnostic, neither bowing to it or blowharding it. I do, however, enjoy its amazing abilities.

Miscommunication at its Finest

It is 10:00, Wednesday morning, and I am standing with my Manager and the Country Water Representative at the door to the Town Meeting hall. The closed door. The one with no one except us on either side of it. And while the lack of people milling around the hall may be normal on a typical day, it started to concern us, as we were to facilitate a community meeting, at 10:00am, Wednesday morning, at this very hall.

The Water Rep dives into the topic we were all contemplating: "I do not believe you asked me to set this meeting up. I did not do so; I assumed you set this meeting up." At which point my Manager replies, "Do not look to me," turning his head in my direction, "you need to ask him who set it up."

In the second of pause I have trained myself to take before responding to these situations, I recalled (1) I am not the project manager, (2) I have been told that all official cross-country communications were to go through my Manager, and (3)(most importantly) I had ignored (1) & (2) and had asked the Belize Government Official not present to set the meeting up via a confirmed email weeks before. "I am not positive, but I believe I asked for this to be set up."

I can 'believe' all I want, but I am the junior member of the group, and the ship is going down around me. My Manager flew down specifically for this meeting, and was leaving the next morning. "Maybe we can spread the word and have the meeting later this week with Alan." Not a bad idea, but certainly not a good show for me.

So, we linger a bit, then drive over to the local Water Office, where we see a prominent town citizen, who immediately states, "I'm coming. I'll be there in 2 minutes." It is 10:20am, and as she doesn't seem in a hurry to get out of her chair any time soon, I learn in a slightly more victorious moment of silence that (1) the meeting had indeed been set up, (2) I was not going to lose my job and (3) one must remember to account for Belize time.

The meeting started at 10:50am, and was a general success.