Happy Dutch Day

Today is the birthday of my very best friend in the world, and I wanted to take advantage of this most public of fora to wish her the best, the happiest, and the many-est of wonderful returns. We've been friends for a near decade, Dutch and I, ever since we were brought together by folk-rock supergroup Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, and our momentous road trip this summer has brought us closer than ever. Only though the 21st century technology of the blogosphere can I approximate how meaningful, unforgettable, and life-affirming our partnership has been, and I'm sure all you blog fans out there await our next step with bated breath. And it's gonna be a big one, Dutch. You're the pony to my dog, and I send you all my love over the internet superhighway.

Photographs of the house

Pomegranate Tree

Grapefruits for breakfast

Kitchen window

These are pictures of my new house
Next post will be pictures of the neighborhood. Thats when things get interesting.

A Pause

My dear compatriot Phil took off for Toronto the other day and left me feeling very un-bloglike. But don't worry, dear readers, look for an update about the new house and pictures very soon.
In the meantime, soothe your need for information with this list of fruit trees found in my yard

mission figs
green apples
dates
limes
grapefruits
grapes
guava

Photographs of the Days

Our first and only "hike" at the Sycamore

The cave from Harry Potter

Travelers

This happened

We're not in Nevada anymore

The Road Ends Here

For the final leg of our drive, the air of anticipation was palpable. We were only three hours away from Val Verde and after these long ten days could not wait to get there. Val Verde is well-signed community and we found the new house without any trouble. There it was, Dorothy's new home, a quaint three bedroom on a road full of dirt mounds, barking dogs and a surprisingly large amount of neighbors. One of her new roommates, Ethan was there to greet them and help Dorothy unload her stuff. After driving with what felt like loads and loads of gear, we actually realized there wasn't much to deal with. Ethan showed us around town, took us to CellPhone Hill, pointed out the public pool and told tales of the town drunk, Salvadore. We had an early night with cool beers and Dorothy's first screening of the seminal film, "Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny". She realized she could have just watched this movie to understand the real Phil instead of driving cross country with him, but oh well.

Route 1 - Twists and Turns

Leaving San Francisco, we started out on a new highway: Route 1, the inspired suggestion of Dorothy's mom. The drive was the most enjoyable and most majestic of our trip. Behind the wheel of a suddenly smooth-handling Kitty Jo, Phil felt a bit like James Bond, zipping around bends up and down the mountains, and Dorothy, rapt in the passenger seat, surely felt like one of James Bond's passengers. We took our time down the coast, stopping every so often to look out onto the ocean and the spectacular mountains and rock formations. After all of the hours pummeling down 80 trying to get across the country, this felt like a real liberation, the kind of road trip we were looking for. We arrived at the Sycamore Mineral Springs and Resort in San Luis Obispo at 8.30 that night, and began to wind down. The Sycamore, another of Dorothy's mom's great ideas, is a charming place in the mountains offering mineral water hot tubs, a yoga dome, and room names like "Tickle" and "Zany." We had a long soak that night on the patio of our room ("Kindness"), and the next morning did a little yoga and indulged in much-needed massages. Thusly relaxed, it wasn't easy to get back into the car, but Val Verde was calling, so we dutifully hit the road for the last time.

California! Day One

We write this from Dorothy's new home in sunny, rural Val Verde. She has arrived, like the the near-mute Jimmy from the film The Wizard, with battered lunchbox in hand, in "Caaaalifoorniaaaa." The last three days of our journey were relatively restful, which was great for us, if not for you, dear blog readers. Driving across the border from Nevada to California was a joyous moment for the both of us, and we smiled our way to San Francisco, where we were separated for the first time in what felt like months. Dorothy caught up with old friends, staying with Laura in her beautiful apartment in "TenderKnob" and meeting up with fellow Skiddies Nicole and Mike in the Mission. Phil stayed at the top of a big hill with his dear friend Carey, who, along with her housemates, was perfectly hospitable, did her best to show Phil as much of the city as possible in the scant few hours we had, and finally satisfied his nagging yen for fish tacos. San Francisco was beautiful, and we were sad to have but one day there, but we will surely return, and besides - the road was calling.

.....

The only evidence we were ever in this godforsaken city...
We'll never speak of it so don't ask

ps we would like to thank Scott, Tim, My Cinnamon Girl and the good people at Lovelock Chevron

Elko, NV: City of the Dead

Elko, like every other Nevada city as far as we can tell, is depressing (Vegas may be an exception, but I’m just taking Tony’s word for it). We arrived around ten pm, but it felt much later. We dragged ourselves to the nearest open restaurant, in the glamorous Red Lion Casino. Passing between rows of glassy-eyed seniors pathologically pressing the spin buttons on their video slots, we settled at the food counter and ordered Chicken Fingers (Phil) and a Caesar salad (Dorothy). Dorothy ordered a martini and gave the waiter the recipe, and Phil ordered the same Bud six times before getting it. Phil won $3 at the penny slots, Dorothy lost $2, and that was that.

Photographs of the Day-Laramie to Elko

Phil at the Flats

Dorothy at the Flats

Phil behind bars - unapologetic

Dorothy behind bars - It wasn't me!

On the Road: Laramie to Elko (Pt 1)

A pretty uneventful drive for the most part. We made a stop in Rawlings, WY for lunch, and popped our heads into the Wyoming Penitentiary Museum. We missed the tour group around the actual hoosegow, so we poked around the museum, which looked like it was curated by a class of sixth-graders. Informative Xeroxes were mounted on colorful posterboard, a vast array of shivs sat in protective cases, while other artifacts of the penitentiary sat out in the open, accompanied by wildly speculative signage (“Why was this spoon found so far from the kitchen? Was it used in an attempt to escape the prison, or was it simply misplaced? We can only guess.”). It was not long before the strange smell and macabre mementos of Wyoming hangings had us back on the road.

We made it through Wyoming and into Utah, a state which looks from the highway like a model train set. We cut across the panhandle (is it considered a panhandle?), passing through Salt Lake City (surprisingly big) and the Great Salt Lake (very pretty), but the highlight of the state came at the very end, at the Salt Flats. The prospect of seeing a place recommended entirely by its flatness admittedly may sound unappealing, and indeed, Dorothy was mainly concerned with getting there by sunset out of fear of breaking down in a vast expanse of nothingness, so she put pedal to floor, racing the sun. We reached the flats just as the sun was setting, pulled into a rest area, and...well, marveled. It was an incredible, dare we say breathtaking, sight, an ocean of white adorned with naturally occurring patterns where the salt had cracked, stretching all the way to the mountains on the horizon. This was Phil’s time to find himself (check that off the list), while Dorothy humored his rambling and hackneyed epiphanies about his own insignificance and the infinite nature of etc., etc., man. Dorothy continued to drive the rest of the way, while Phil babbled in the passenger seat. It was a nighttime jaunt through the mountains that terrified us both, and we were relieved to reach the bright lights of Elko, NV, pale-faced and exhausted.

Photographs of the Day--Laramie

You can't really see it but I'm holding a puppy

The Cowgirl looks good in the morning

Do not trust these animals

Diane and Dorothy discuss life with Asia the dog

The wide streets of Laramie

Horses.

In Praise of Diane Kempson

What is there to say about Diane Kempson, part-owner of our favorite lodging of the trip, The Cowgirl Horse Hotel in Laramie, Wyoming. She’s probably the most interesting person around as far as we can tell. Sure, you think you got her pegged the minute you meet her; friendly drawl, Idaho t-shirt, dogs. You might think she has lived in Wyoming her whole life, but that is dead wrong. This lady has lived literally everywhere. Oh New York City? Yeah, she lived there. In the 70's. Charleston, South Carolina? She was freaking born there! Toronto, Chicago, this that and the other place. This woman is the living embodiment of that Johnny Cash song that everybody loves so much. She’ll also talk to you as long as she pleases about dogs, horses, vegetables, those snobby San Francisco elitist. What do they know!? Nothing, compared to Diane Kempson.

Laramie: Puppy Heaven

I had a good feeling about Laramie from the get-go. Not only does Wyoming have a spectacular reputation of being majestic and cowboy-centric, I had booked us at the famed Cowgirl Horse Hotel, located on Black Elk Road. The Cowgirl is a place for weary cowgirls to hang their hats and put up their boots and just relax. But Phil didn’t need to worry, cowboys are welcomed too.
We pulled up to the house at around 8:30pm, a little later when we had wanted. Fortunately, proprietress Diane was having a girls night with some girlfriends and red wine and the party was just getting started. Her two dogs, Dash and Asia greeted us warmly. Asia is a Belgian Sheepdog and reminded Phil of Kia, his dog back home and he felt a pang of homesickness. The room was adorable. Two huge beds, a shower with two shower heads! Plenty of chickflicks on DVD. We didn’t even have keys! No keys needed here at the Cowgirl.
Diane pointed us in the direction of town and recommended a brewpub, Altitudes. It’s the new hotspot in Laramie. We both had delicious food, Phil had a steak sandwich and I had a buffalo burger. The best thing about the dinner was the “chili beer”, a light lager made with jalapenos. Too bad I was getting the altitude madness bad and couldn’t finish my beer and we turned in early. But with good reason. Diane (who was still up when we got home, swilling that red wine) let us in on a little secret; she and her partner Pam breed Rottweiler’s and there was a litter of 5 week- old puppies living in the stables!
We could barely sleep that night and woke up at 6:45am, bounding out of bed like it was Christmas morning. Diane was still sleeping one off so we explored the grounds by ourselves. We met several gorgeous horses. Pam and Diane house 15 horses at a time. But we couldn’t find any puppies! Heading back to the house we noticed we were being watched by something we later found out was a pronghorn antelope. It fixed us with a death stare, made a strange noise like lasers shooting out of its mouth and bounded away.
Luckily Diane had finally pulled herself out of bed and she knew what was on our minds: PUPPIES! She led the way through the beautiful stables and there tucked in a cozy corner were five of the cutest round-headed little Rottweiler puppy we have ever seen. Phil bonded with little Steve McQueen who kept escaping from the pen and the only girl, a little runt, Diane Jr., warmed up to me right away. We could have stayed there all morning, we could have stayed at the Cowgirl all day, but we finally tore ourselves away from the puppies and Diane, and hit the road.
We made a brief stop in Laramie to see the wide-streeted town in the daytime. I finally bought the straw hat of my dreams from a cowboy who used to live in NYC and go to Broadway shows on a regular basis. We stopped in at the delightful Laramie food co-op, was given a free bag of ice not because we asked for it but because the guy overheard we had a cooler and regretfully left town and headed west toward Nevada

Profile in Courage: Officer Loy

We were cruising, nearly to the end of Nebraska. We’d moved from Highway 80 to the more scenic Route 30, guiding us through intermittent towns announced by their huge silos, which loomed over the plains like skyscrapers in the distance. Phil was in a driving groove, but was admittedly suffering from the triple-whammy (self-diagnosed) of Highway Hypnosis, Big Sky Lunacy, and Altitude Madness. So he can be forgiven if he for a moment thought that the sirens behind him were a hallucination. Dorothy corroborated, though, so we pulled to the side of the road. Up to the car strode Officer Loy, all of nineteen years old, possessing the impressive admixture of Barney Fife’s crime-fighting acumen and Columbo’s charm.

“I have pulled you over because I clocked you driving 69 in a 60 zone,” he declared, trying to conceal his Book of Things Real Cops Say. “Is there any reason you were speeding?” Phil combed his mind. He didn’t know that driving nine miles over the limit was speeding. Didn’t he deserve a commendation for staying within ten miles per hour of the limit? There was even a car in front of us that he refused to pass. “Uh,” said Phil, “We’re just trying to make time to Laramie.” The officer returned to his car, while Phil and Dorothy tried wrap their minds around the idea of being given a ticket for driving 69 in a flipping 60 on a near deserted road in East Honestly Nowhere, NE. Loy walked back to the car with a piece of paper in his hand. “I’ve decided to give you a warning today,” he told us, pausing to allow the gravity of his benevolence to sink in, “but a couple of things. First, you say you want to make time to Laramie. Well, why are you on 30? You should be on 80, where the speed limit is 75.” Check and mate. He had Phil dead to rights. Outwitted, Phil stuttered, “We’re taking the scenic route,” but clearly, he’d been beat. The satisfaction on Officer Loy’s face was evident. “Second,” he said, “The speed limit on Nebraska state roads is 60 MPH.” Thusly educated, we pulled away slowly and carefully, inching our way toward Laramie with nothing but a cocktail of relief and gratitude in our hearts. A real credit to the uniform, that Officer Loy.

Photographs of the Day-Omaha to Laramie

Curly-"Gold! Gold! GOLD!!"

Info-tainment

Man of the California Trail

Prairie Girl

Git off my property

What happened here?

Also, no wi-fi

The Millford Inn-Nobody has set foot on this land in years...

On the Road: Omaha to Laramie (Pt 2)

On the open road and feeling much better, we began to power our way through Nebraska, a flat and veritably joyless state. Lunch was eaten out of the car, as we parked outside an almost certainly haunted old building that once housed the Millford Inn. Creepy photos to come. It was likely the only time Israeli couscous had been eaten there. We considered a seance, but, discouraged by the handwritten sign outside - "No Wi-Fi" - we continued our drive.

On one of the few occasions that the radio was turned down, though, we heard a sound coming from Kitty Jo that most resembled soulful, atonal humming. This time, it was Dorothy's turn to lose her composure, to the detriment of the tabloid in her hand (sorry, Twilight stars). We pulled over and cooled down while KJ did the same. Fortunately, arching across Route 80 was a surefire cure for the blues: The Grande Platte River Road Archway Monument (or GPRRAM). KJ burned rubber turning into the exit, and before long we were greeted by Curly the prospector, who told us about buying tickets and receiving our electronic headsets. We were then ushered up Nebraska's second longest escalator (really!!) and learned about the opening up of the American West through the promise of "gold, gold, GOLD!!" We came away from it with a new appreciation of the cultural history of the West (sort of), a commemorative pressed penny, and a lucky, three-legged pig, who wards off evil spirits and would ensure an uncomplicated rest of our trip. Right?

Pick(s) of the Day--August 28, 2009

Album(s) of the Day

Phil's Moms Mix
it had an amazing calming effect on Phil after the accident...

Song(s) of the Day
"Jackson" by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash
will be included on our debut album

On the Road: Omaha to Laramie (Pt 1)

When we say it was hard to leave Omaha, don't think that we formed some kind of emotional attachment to the city. We had a nice night there, sure, but it was actually hard to leave. For one thing, it's a city of aggressive drivers, tearing down the street at inappropriate speeds. I suppose that's why we didn't see any pedestrians. For another, the entire city of Omaha seems to be under construction. Looking down one major avenue, we saw cranes erecting structures on either side of the street, while construction crews tore up the street itself. Every turn we made was attended to by a confusing constellation of orange cones.

We were nearly free from the city when Dorothy realized she couldn't find her sunglasses, so we backtracked to a nearby Walgreen's for new ones. A wild goose chase for a mailbox left us on a small street, trying to make a left turn onto a larger street, with the aforementioned drivers bearing down on us. We should mention that Phil's normal composure in the driver's seat had at this point given way to slight frustration at the entirety of Omaha, and when he nosed into the street to make a seemingly safe turn before being cut off by some Nebraskan lunatic with someplace real important to go, he somewhat thoughtlessly threw the car into reverse to get out of the intersection. The rearview mirror rendered useless by the gear in Kitty Jo's (the car's) backseat, Phil was only made aware of the car right behind him when he heard the crunch. The upshot? Well, very little harm was done; Phil's ego certainly took the biggest hit. Insurance information was traded with the fellow in the car, whose driver's license told us was from Los Angeles, on Valencia Street, a fact that Dorothy took as a harbinger of good things to come. With this small consolation, we left Omaha for good, on a long ride certain to be without further excitement. Right.

Photographs of the Day--Omaha

The biggest door in Nebraska State-Cornerstone Mansion

Happy Birthday Leos

McFosters

It's not raining in Omaha

Photographs of the Day--Iowa

Meredith loves the burgers at Shorts

They tell me my darts fly in a perfect arc

Meredith's neighbor on Washington Street

Iowa City morning
photograph by Meredith Lynn

Pictures

Technical difficulties are currently preventing us from uploading photos at the moment. Expect them tomorrow. Thank you for your patience.

Best,
Phil and Dorothy

Omaha

Written 30 minutes ouside of Laramie, as the wide expanse of Wyoming sky turns from gold to deep blue.

We had a pretty quiet night in Omaha, a pretty quiet town. We stayed at the Cornerstone Mansion B&B run by the spunky Barbara and her talking dog Lucy. On Sherrie Flick's recommendation we went to eat at McFoster's restaurant on Dodge Street (which made us think wistfully of Brian of Dodge Street Tires...). Our waitress was the spitting image of Amy Poehler and the sweet potato fries were incredible.

After dinner we went across the street to hang out with Omaha's "white-belted hipsters" at Brother's Lounge. Phil liked this bar so much he wouldn't shut up about it. They made a killer Pimm's Cup and Phil broke the dartboard with his machine gun-like delivery to the bull's-eye.

We skipped town pretty early the next morning. Or at least we tried to. Apparently they are re-building the entire city of Omaha and there was construction galore. That's when Phil had his first "misadventure" of the day...to be continued.

In Praise of Brian Sekafetz

The Road is hard. The Road is fucking hard. You learn this one of two ways: either you see it in a Hollywood movie from the comfort of your rented futon or you learn the hard way, from experience. Specifically, the experience of having your car vibrate the entire time you're on the highway. You wonder, Why is it vibrating? What's the vibrating for? Is it the shimmy shimmy shakes?

Sometimes, only one man can answer therse questions: Brian Sekafetz, owner of Dodge Street Tire in Iowa City. A man among men. A man who took the time to drive our Lesbaru down Highway 80 just to get a feel for its pain. A man who balanced our tires and then took it for yet another drive down Highway 80 while we hung out in the "customer lounge" watching SportsCenter with a third generation corn-fed mechanic stud eating the world's most perfect turkey sandwich. A man who, after spending an hour "car whispering" at the Lesbaru, charges us nothing because he didn't fix the problem. Not that he couldn't, mind you, he just wanted to make sure we got to Hollywood before it was too late...because he never did.

Whenever the wind blows down the lonesome highway, it will speak one name - Brian Sekafetz.

Iowa City

Iowa City. The Brass Candle. Smocktown. The Hub of Hubris. The Shame of Iowa. Iowa City.



Iowa City goes by many names, but to us, it was home to Meredith Lynn. Meredith hosted us in her modified loft above an Authentic Indian Restaurant. Her cat, name of Zeve, welcomed us with open claws. Meredith gave us a taste of life in a college town, ushering us into a delicious burger "joint" (Shorts Burger and Shine) and then into "Joe's Bar." Therein we played darts (Dorothy prevailed), Big Buck Hunter (nature lost), and met various Iowans. Including Craig, a displaced Pittsburgher and high school pal of Phil's (go Vikes). Despite the rainy weather, spirits were high, we had a great time, and memories were made, stored, and treasured.

Pick(s) of the Day--August 28, 2009

Song(s) of the Day

"Don't Do Me Like That" by Tom Petty
Lesson learned. You can never have to much Tom Petty on a road trip. NEVER.

Album(s) of the Day

D&P CC CD Part 2 by Cotton

Maggie May-Rod Stewart
Here You Come Again-Dolly Parton
Don't Do Me Like That-Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
April Come She Will-S&G
He's Misstra Know It All-Stevie Wonder
Under Pressure-Flaming Lips
Jacking the Ball- Sea & Cake
Maisie-Syd Barrett
Here Comes My Girl-Tom Petty
Baba O'Riley-The Who
Ramblin On-L.Z.
The Swimming Song-London Wainwright
You & Me & Moon-Magnetic Fields
Killer Queen-Queen
If I Could Talk I'd Tell You-Lemonheads
Alone Again Or-Love
I Saw Her Again-The Mamas & The Papas
Different Drums-Linda Rondstandt
Something Pretty-Patrick Park
Danny's Song-Loggins and Messina
Pagoda's Theme-M.M
Paper Planes-M.I.A
Float On-Modest Mouse

Phil's Chicago Post

Driving into Hyde Park in the early evening had me immediately in a nostalgic mood. The end of summer is a nice time to be in the South Side of Chicago. Such a short stay in the city was a tricky proposition for me: there are a lot of people there I want to see, a lot of places to see, a lot of restaurants to revisit. I stayed on the north side, at the Casa de Carmen, without fail the most welcoming place in town. We ate well. Monday night we went to Borinquen, home of the Jibarito sandwich. Tuesday morning I got pancakes at Flying Saucer just down California. Really good pancakes. I ordered the short stack, but hadn't factored in the diameter of the pancake, which was considerable, and I couldn't eat the whole thing. The same was not true of the Italian Beef from Portillos that I inhaled that evening. Soup and 'rogies from the sassy Polish mama at Podhalanka the next noon, and we were on the road. This blog has become very food-centric, but of course what made the visit wasn't what I ate, but who I saw. Thanks to everyone back in Chicago for always making it feel like home. This will do it for my first blog post, but I will be back with more as I get the hang of this.

Best,
Phil

Hollywood Sighting of the Day

Hollywood Grill-Chicago, IL

Picks of the Day-August 26, 2009

Song(s) of the Day

"Slower Traffic to the Right" by Haiku D'etat

Album(s) of the Day

Astral Weeks by Van Morrison
the perfect pick when Phil needs a nap and Dorothy needs something to sign along to

Photographs of the Day--Chicago

This sign means Chicaquiles will be eaten soon

I think we can ALL agree on that

Kids splashing around in Millennium Park

The shady courtyard at Meggs and Josh

Chicago Post by Dorothy

We pulled into Chicago on Monday after an easy day of driving. Phil dropped me off at my sister and brother-in-laws apartment in Hyde Park and headed off to meet up with his friend Carmen in Andersonville.
Chicago felt more like the calm before the storm than the official start of the trip. Phil has lived in Chicago for more than 7 years and my sister has been in Hyde Park forever.
That night Josh, Megg and I went to dinner at Irazu in Wicker Park and sat outside and ate yummy Costa Rican food. I had been to Irazu four years ago for breakfast and still remember the french bread toast with sour cream and their avena (oatmeal) milkshake. This time I had potato tacos and horchata. Amazing.
The next day Megg took me to check out the new modern wing of the Art Institute. Cy Twombly and an exhibit of Japanese screens were the high points of the place.
Phil and I met up after being away from each other for a total of 24 hours! We played Rock Band at Carmens and this was my first time and I pretty much killed it singing on Maps. Cocktails at Weegees in Humboldt Park ended the day. Phil had the best cocktail with a claret's sour. The bartender sported a pretty cute vest.
Breakfast at La Condessa in Pilsen (check out the pictures) the next morning with Megg and Josh and then it was time to hit the road again.
I felt a little sad to be leaving Chicago and its impeccable radio stations (93.1 fm WXRT and The Drive) but pretty excited about our next city, Iowa City, the first never-been-to-before stop on our route.

Day 1--Pick(s) of the Day

Songs(s) of the Day:

"See You When I Get There" by Lou Rawls
"Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" by Bob Dylan/Nick Drake

Album(s) of the Day:

Road by DH

Born to Run-B. Springsteen
Never Goin Back Again-Fleetwood Mac
Take it Easy-Jackson Brown
Destination: Anywhere-The Marvelettes
She's Free-Jeff Buckley
See You When I Get There-Lou Rawls
The Divorce Song-Liz Phair
This Year-Mountain Goats
I Want to Break Free-Queen
(Don't Go Back To)Rockville-REM
Slim Slow Slider-Van Morrison
Packing Blankets-The Eels
I'm So Bored with the U.S.A-The Clash
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright-Bob Dylan
Refugee-Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
I've Seen All Good People-Yes

Day 1--Photographs of the Day

Susan & Dorothy-Mother/Daughter shot

Goodbye Breakfast by Susan--Baked eggs, croissants, berries & cream

Maura protesting our departure

Phil takes the wheel after Ohio

Gary, Indiana--You smell it before you see it

The Chicago Skyline--Our first destination

Day 1--To Chicago

What we’ve done today:
We said goodbye to our parents and pups.
We left Pittsburgh.
Phil won the lottery at the rest stop and will fund the trip with his winnings ($2)
Dorothy snatched a handful of Wet-naps for the car (free of charge!)
We got the GPS on, leading us to our destination. Dorothy is still getting used to it, but Phil feels at home with it, really.
The GPS has our arrival time in Chicago at 4:40, though the number keeps getting later with each stop.

What we saw today:
A cloud shaped like a bird
3 black dogs
Amish folk in porkpie hats, almost certainly headed to KFC
A sign for Hoover Road and a truck that said Dot. Coincidence?

It's been a pretty quiet day.

The Beginning

Mission Statement:
The mission of this blog is to chronicle a cross country road trip begun this morning by two old and dear friends, Dorothy and Phil.

Bios:
Dorothy is boss of the blog. She was given this title when she invented blogs and Phi is not allowed to touch the blog. She’s moving to Hollywood to produce Hollywood blogs.
Phil is her underling. He will be her ultimate downfall.

Itinerary:
Day 1: Pittsburgh to Chicago
Day 2: Chicago
Day 3: Chicago to Iowa City
Day 4: Iowa City to Omaha
Day 5: Omaha to Laramie
Day 6: Laramie to Elko
Day 7: Elko to San Francisco
Day 8: San Francisco
Day 9: San Francisco to San Luis Obispo
Day 10: San Luis Obispo to Val Verde