Kingman, a pretty place

I made it to Kingman, AZ today. My next milestone is Barstow AZ, followed by Los Angeles, which is around 250 miles away. After that, I will take off on some other path, still to be determined. My days are full lately. My job, my family, my studies, my hobbies, and all the ways I have found to fill the days, all are being juggled, perhaps not so adroitly, but I am pleased most of the time. Here is one of my world famous alphabetized list of random shit:
A: Articulated AnchovyAcrobatics
B. Belligerent Breast Biddies
C: Cremated Cucumber Corsets
D: Dreamy Debutante Ducks
E: Electrical Embryo Excretions
F: Fried Fist Fumigations
G: Gargantuan Grapefruit Gasses
H: Heavy Heathen Hangovers
I: Innoculated Indigo Infants
J: Jerky Jasmine Jezabels
K: Knighted Knockwurst Knees
L: Liberated Lunchbox Livers
M: Manhandled Muskrat Minnows
N: Nervy Nantucket Nuns
O: Octogenarian Orange Oxen
P: Pesky Prenatal Punks
Q: Quiet Queer Quakers
R. Rice-eating Redneck Roustabouts
S. Simple Stingy Scandinvians
T. Touthless Tennessee Truckers
U. Unclean Unspeakable Underwear
V. Vivacious Vitamin-enriched Voles
W. Wet War-like Wenches
X. Xerxes Xanax X-rays
Y: Young Yammering Yak

Z. Zealous Zither-playing Zeus-immitators

Some nostalgic musings, totally vapid

This past week, I pretty much blew off the gym, so I have only progressed 23 miles from Flagstaff, with 110 miles to go to Kingman. Some crazy new photos are in the works. Summer is winding down, sadly, but I must say it has been a good one. And, I love my new school, the fourth graders I'm teaching, and, in general, my life. My PhD program begins in a couple of weeks, so I am sure my life will change in ways I can't even imagine. I have good friends. One of them made me smile when he brought me a packet of soup - you know, like the knorr's soups - only this was a Jamaican instant soup mix called Cock soup, made from hearty Jamaican cocks. I haven't tried the cock soup lately, but am anxious to find out if Jamaican cocks are as tasty as I've heard. Would you rather bungee jump off of the Golden Gate Bridge or walk naked into a McDonalds and place an order?
Here is one of my world famous alphabetized lists. These are the smells which please me:

Antique Stores
Bubble Gum
Crayons
Dryer exhaust
Earl Grey Tea
Fireworks
Grills, charcoal
Hershey bars
Inscense (Nag Champa)
Jasmine Rice
Kool-aid
Leather
Marijuana
Nutmeg
Onions, cooking
Permanent marker
Quilts, old
Root Beer
Sharpened pencils
Toast
Umbrellas, wet
Vicks
Woodsmoke
Xmas
Yeasty Bread
Zest soap

Hi. I have been remiss in my blogging lately. It's back to school time for us teachers, and a change of building and grade have consumed me. I'm ten miles west of Flagstaff, with 123.2 miles to go to Kingman, AZ. Flagstaff looks to be a very lovely place. It is from here that Pluto was discovered. I wonder where Uranus was discovered. Ted Danson is from Flagstaff. That's about all the trivia I could dig up. Check out the pink pony ad for Progressive Insurance online. Talk soon.

Winslow AZ skank central

I've made it to Winslow, Arizona. In 55 miles I will make it to Flagstaff. One of the photos shows me cavorting merrily into some godforsaken meteor crater. Winslow, as all of us who were dragged mercilessly through the 70s might remember, was made famous in the 1974 Eagles tune "Take It Easy" ("I was standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona, etc., etc., and so on"), a song about a guy whose cross to bear in life was that he had seven women who wanted to fuck him, but he sees another in a flatbed Ford who he wants to fuck. This guy had a tough gig. Do I sound like a bitter old dame who wanted to be one of those skanks in this guy's fantasy? Perhaps. But, as it turns out, Winslow has about 1,000 more men than women right now, so a girl might actually be able to be a bit fussy about who she does.

See you in the big F.

Midsummer mayhem

As of today, I am 45 miles west of Gallup, heading for Flagstaff. I'm still in upstate New York, at my mother's house, where I grew up. A perfect shit storm hit shortly after Greg and I got here two weeks ago - several electrical problems and a water main break. I stayed on to see mom through the repairs, but I continue to ride the Husky most days, counting my miles. There will be some photos coming, eventually, but, in the meantime, I'll toss off some oddball thoughts 'n wonky info. While I was on the phone today, with a beloved relative, I paged through a 1943 cookbook of my mom's and found the following (rather disturbing) recipe titles: macaroni mousse, Spanish turkey, heart pie, lamb neck slices, liver eggplant slices, tongue and peas scalloped, frizzled beef a la king, tongue supper, hotsy totsy chicken, dressing for alligator pear and chocolate-covered sugarless cake. Is your mouth watering?

fecal matter spill on aisle six

I made it to Gallup, New Mexico on Sunday, July 11, not on the exercise bike at the gym, but on an old Husky bike with coaster brakes, at my mom's in New York. I hope to knock out another fifty or so miles here. Flagstaff is my next milestone. There will be some photos coming eventually.

There are so many disturbing things going on all around us, it's hard to know what to rant and rave about. I am personally nauseated by Sarah Palin and cupcakes. The sound of her voice on tv is akin to fingernails on a blackboard. And, what's with this new obsession with cupcakes, as if they have just been discovered. I would pay some good money to watch Palin force fed cupcakes until she explodes and her bits and pieces thrown to hungry bears. Another bee in my bonnet these days is Valerie Bertinelli being on the cover of AARP magazine. She's a twit who lost a few pounds and survived a divorce from a douchebag. Certainly this magazine and organization can find someone who has actually done something meaningful for humanity, to represent the 50 plus population.

The title of this blog refers to an ugly experience I had today. Me and mom were in Dollar General - mom loves this store. After a few minutes of shopping, I had a potty attack and went to the back of the store where the restrooms are. The rooms were locked, so I went to the cashier who told me that they didn't have public restrooms, and no, she did't know where there was a restroom nearby. I had to leave the store and drive back to my mom's house, leaving mom there, to relieve myself. When I came back, notebook and pen in hand, I took the name of the cashier and asked to see the manager. The manager told me that in NY the law did not require retail stores to provide restroom services. Taking a dump was not allowed. The threat of goods being stoled was too great. She said that if I had asked the cashier to get the manager to let me take a shit, she would have been happy to escort me to the bathroom. Given the fact that there were a bunch of people in line, listening to my request to use the washroom, I was not comfortable to beg for access to the crapper. I'm deciding whether to take the time to run this up to Dollar General corporate, name names, etc., or, the next time this happens to me in one of these stores, to simply leave my calling card in front of the locked restroom.

Passing thru Quirky

It has been many weeks since my last post. But, I am still moving along Route 66. I will be popping in and out throughout the summer. As of today, I am 60 miles west of Albuquerque, with 600+ miles to go to LA. The news has given me no good material to elaborate upon, but lots of sound bites: drug trafficking gang activity 911 victim due in court toxicology her eyelid swelling is going down I cried bilking church members ongoing 13-month investigation up to 15 months in prison budget probes are worse than she thought everybody sacrifices wild weather whipping large tornado topkill live feed of the spill jewelry had high levels of cadmium threw tacks on road during charity bike race popular diaper causing rash and burning 2 law suits have been filed 250 in damages I noticed the hostile environment disputes the claim hit and run case the four gunman were trying to steal free her from home confinement more charges are possible hiked tuition 9 and 1/2 percent state owes $375 million invasive species outrage over oil spill battle against skin cancer being held in Iran synthetic cells active DNA put together by computer age doesn't matter anyone can be a target high dollar tug of war pop culture perfect storm rugrats of the rich and famous amid that violence before the injured arrives traumatic amputation salvage more limbs.

My bucket list along

My stars, it has been awhile since my last post, but, have no fear, I am still moving along the Mother Road. As of today, I am 89 miles away from Albuquerque, NM. I cruised through Tucumcari and breezed through a few other places beyond. I will post a few photos in a day or so. This area makes me think about death. In fact, I compiled a bit of a Bucket List on this stretch. Here it is:
1. Play SOMETHING by Scott Joplin on Piano
2. Get a PhD
3. Transatlantic Cruise
4. Speak semi-fluent Portuguese
5. Sing with a big band
6. Own a Corvette
7. Stay at B & Bs with my hubby in all 50 states.
8. Leave my daughter with no financial worries.

The Devil's Rope and Cadillacs crammed in the ground

I've made it to Amarillo, just under 1,000 from my Waukegan starting point. I've been doing this virtual Route 66 for four months, and I still have over 1,000 miles to go, then another 2,000+ to get back home. Need to get my fat ass in gear. My ass has become a bit smaller since this journey began, but hardly noticeable.

In the home stretch to Amarillo, I went through McLean, TX, which has a barbed wire museum and a large ball of the stuff. Devil's Rope, it's called. I'm reminded of such things as prison, the Holocaust, and slaughtering animals when I see barbed wire, but they sure are proud of it around these parts.

Just outside of Amarillo is one of THE most photographed roadside attractions along the Mother Road: The Cadillac Ranch. See me wending my way through these rusting symbols of the US dream.

While working my way across the Texas Panhandle, I've been inventorying and categorizing my favorite movies. In addition to alphabetizing things, I truly enjoy making lists of this nature. My choices will clearly reveal how easily amused and shallow I am. Here are some of my selections:
Funniest movies: Best in Show, Galaxy Quest, and, Mrs. Doubtfire
Saddest movie: Heidi, with Jason Robards (must have box of tissues) Last of the Mohicans
Most Romantic movies: Moonstruck, The Way We Were, Last of the Mohicans
Scariest: Signs, Blair Witch Project
History: Last of the Mohicans
Kids movies: Pee Wee's Big Adventure, Heavyweights
Musicals: 7 Brides for 7 Brothers, Oliver
Spy: Eye of the Needle
Cop: The First Die Hard
Thriller: Birds
International: La Cage A Folle
Cult: Harold and Maude
Soundtrack: The Deerhunter, Last of the Mohicans
War: Shenandoah (Jimmy Stewart), Last of the Mohicans
Black and White: To Sir With Love
Biographical: The Lou Gehrig Story
Holiday: National Lampoon Christmas Vacation
Drama: Guarding Tess, The Rose, Last of the Mohicans
Sexiest: Last of the Mohicans

Dr. Bino, Dr. Al Bino

It's been a few days, but I have been moving slowly along the Mother Road, still on my way to Amarillo. For some reason, this is a biggie for me, probably because I had an experience in my earlier twenties, in Texas, during which the song "Amarillo By Morning" was key. That's all there is to say about that.
I made it to Elk City, OK early this week. A neat place. Here are some fun facts:
1. Elk City has .72 square kilometers of surface water.
2. Miss America, 1981, Susan Powell, is a notable citizen of Elk City.
3. Elk City is the home of the National Route 66 Museum.
4. The median income in Elk City is $30K.
5. In 1907, Elk City was considered a Boom Town with a population of 3,000.
6. Jimmy Carter recently said that Elk City was one of his favorite places to hold a town meeting.
7. In 1931, the U.S. Highway 66 Assn. held its annual convention here - 20,000 attended.
In another 30 miles I will have made it to McLean, TX.

In the meantime, I am, as always, coming up with deranged lists. Here are ten wacky hospital intercom pages:
1. Dr. Sore, Dr. Cole Sore, please report to the herpes clinic,
2. Dr. Dis, Dr. John Dis, please call liver therapy.
3. Dr. Terr, Dr. Kathy Terr, you are needed in urology.
4. Dr. Cupp, Dr. Phillip A. Cupp, please report to the fertility clinic.
5. Dr. Skull, Dr. M.T. Skull, report to brain surgery OR, STAT
6. Dr. Atricks, Dr. Jerry Atricks, report to the party room, bring a condom.
7. Dr. Over, Dr. Malcolm Over, please pick up the male pattern baldness hotline.
8. Dr. Lipp, Dr. Harry Lipp, you have a visitor in the premature puberty studies clinic.
9. Dr. Bow, Dr. L. Bow, you have a party waiting on the tennis court.
10. Dr. Bino, Dr. Al Bino, please report to the melanin replacement unit.

See you in McLean.

It's Easter, so have some sex

I've been out of touch for about a week. I'm sure my throngs of followers have been miserable. Went to upstate New York to spend my spring break with mom. She has a recumbant stationary bike, but I only squeezed in a few miles during my stay - lots of stuff to do for and with her. I did 12 miles today, so, I now have 195 miles to go to reach Amarillo. I passed through El Reno, OK a few days ago, and encountered a fabulous twister. My time up in the tornado was recorded on film for your amazement.

So, tomorrow is Easter. My daughter was expressing her dismay that this holiday is represented by a bunny and eggs. The Jesus thing seems to be completely insulted by these images. I explained to her that, like Christmas, the Easter holiday has absolutely nothing to do with Jesus's situation, and everything to do with fornication and indulgence. We all no the expression, "F**k like a bunny." Well, everything f**ks in the spring. Even plants are getting ready to reproduce. It's the reason for the season. I'm sure I am no expert, but, the egg has been an important spring symbol for many thousands of years. All of it, the eggs, the bunnies, the flowers, the treats, all of it has to do with reproduction. Don't you love it? Do your part and have sex with your partner.

They're Magically Delicious

My trek across Oklahoma continues. I made it as far as Oklahoma City over the weekend, and am not 20 miles beyond, with 224 more miles to go to Amarillo, TX. My progress is temporarily (I hope) slowed down right now. On St. Patrick's Day, I was demonstrating the Lucky Charms Leprechaun's janty little dance for my third graders, and just at the part that goes"They're Magically Delicious" I attempted a side kick, and, took nasty spill in the hallway of my school. My right knee is now messed up a bit, and I have had to be happy with 6 miles of progress at each gym visit, most of it on the recumbant bike and the elliptical machine. But, I'm chugging along.

I'm dedicating this leg of the journey to the Indians. The Okies who were forced to head west during the dustbowl era of the 1930s are also on my mind. But, the Indians were f'd over well before this. Not that anyone cares, but the pain I am having as I continue to travel through Oklahoma, is my small and insignificant homage to the unspeakable things the Indians endured, and continue to endure, at our hands.

Chasing Corvettes

That's me in that line of Corvettes on Route 66 in Oklahoma, somewhere between Tulsa and Oklahoma city. As of right now, I'm still 50 miles from Oklahoma City. I had hoped to be there today, but I've continued to be under the weather - 6 weeks now. This last round actually prompted me to go to the doctor for help. The antibiotics and inhaler seem to be working. I don't sound like a 4-pack-a-day smoker when I cough anymore. In the meantime, I've made another alphabetized list, this time of things I really like/want to have/wish I had more of/think are nifty, etc.:
A - Alphabetizing things,The Adirondacks
B - Black Cats, Butter
C - Corvettes, Cheese
D - Dahlia's, Daniel Day Lewis
E - Ebay
F - Firemen in full regalia (drool!)
G - Gemstones, Gold
H - Hair Twisting (my own - it's an OCD thing)
I - Ipods, Italian Food
J - Juicing with my Jack LaLanne machine
K - Keillor (Garrison)
L - Latin Music
M - Marbles, Mardi Gras
N - Nursery Rhumes
O - The Ocean, Orgasms
P - Pencils (colored), Playing Piano
Q - Quiet children
R - Route 66
S - Swearing
T - Thrift Stores, Tasy Kakes
U - Underdogs
V - Variety
W - Wine, Whopper Jrs
X - Xanax
Y - Yogurt(Greek)
Z - Zapps Potato Chips

On to Oklahoma City.

600 Miles down the Mother Road 1140 to go

As of today, I've made it 604 miles on Route 66, after starting in Waukegan, IL, over two months ago. I have 1136 miles to go to the end. I reached Tulsa, OK, today, after a 19 mile ride. Oklahoma always seemed to be a fictional place to me, but, as it turns out, it really exists. This week, I've tried to finish up with my solving of the world's problems. This post is a little bit lengthy, but I need to wrap this project up:
1. Gayness: I don't see this as a problem. I think "Don't Ask Don't Tell" is positively unconstitutional. My firm belief is that our character is ultimately shaped by who we hate rather than who we love.
2. Aids: Condom drops over parts of Africa, and any other part of the world which still suffer from the idiotic practices which continue to spread aids, Castration of any aids-infected man who continues to have unprotected sex., and, for God's sake, don't shag anyone without a condom if you don't know for sure they are not squirting HIV virus.
3. Cancer: Don't smoke, don't eat, don't drink tapwater, don't breathe, don't stand next to the microwave while it is on, get screened,
4. Unemployment: Sell your stuff on ebay, Go to the library and fine how-to books and learn how to do something people will pay you to do, Get some decent interview clothes at the thrift shop, If you are a senior you can take lots of classes for free at your local community college, If you have a bachelor's degree you can substitute teach, Are you devoting 8 hours a day to you job search? Move to someplace where there are jobs.
5. The War: We need to accept the fact that most of the world hates us here in the United States, for various reasons. Some hate us so much that they want us all dead. These are just some of the reasons why we are loathed: We are energy hogs, we consume much of the world's everything, we're wasteful, we're fat, we're greedy, we're spoiled, we don't respect other cultures, we're decadent, we're pleasure mongers, we're hypocrites, we're loud, we're infidels (heathens, aethiests, Christians, Jews, pagans, etc.), we're thieves, we're liars, we're sex-maniancs, we're libertines, we worship false idols, we're murderers, we're vain, we desecrate, we're satan's spawn, we've sold our souls, we're vice-ridden, we're arrogant, we're racists, and, in general, we are the enemy and everything is our fault. How do you fix this image? I really don't know, and I don't have any answers.

From Rust Belt to Dust Belt

I have crossed over, from Missouri to Oklahoma. The Oklahoma stretch of Route 66 is the beginning of the Mother Road, so named by John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath. It is with humility and apology that I dare to pretend to follow the path taken by those who had no choice but to head West, out of the dust, headed for a land which promised to keep them alive.

I should be able to make it to Tulsa this week, by Sunday.

A few current event Notes:
1. More who need to go to the moon: John Edwards, his chicky-poo, and their kiddo,
2. I'm glad the Canadians won Olympic hockey gold, but I'm also glad it was not a slaughter. The Canadians put on a lovely Olympic games, don't you think?
3. I need to say more about health care. I really didn't solve the problem, did I? Here are some more ideas:
a. Every child (up to 21) and every senior (65+ years) should be completely covered, medically. Our taxes are paying for prisoners (felons, child molestors, rapiest, murderes,) why not our children and elders?
b. Groups of 100 uninsured adults should all pitch in $1,000 per year and hire a doctor (go to India, Pakistan, Poland, countries where $100 grand looks like a million bucks). A grand sounds like a lot, but, many uninsured adults are spending more than that on their pets!
c. Some enterprising pilots should organize medical flights for the uninsured to take them to countries where hospital care/surgery is affordable.
d. Ditto for trips to Canada for medication.
e. If you do have to go the the hospital, bring your own Tylenol, and have someone bring you your meals. Say no to all of the things you can provide for yourself.

Gay Killer Whales in Toyotas

I've finally made it to Joplin, Missouri. Wow. Not sure why I was in such a hurry to get here. I won't be staying long. I am sure that Joplin has a fascinating history and any cool nooks and crannies, much like my birth city, Schenectady, New York but, I'm moving on. Oklahoma bekons.

My total mileage on Route 66 is now 508 miles.

I'd like to put my two cents in regarding another world problem before I say goodnight. How about health insurance?
(and I'm stealing this from one of my doctors) there are three tips which will reduce anyone's need for health insurance: 1. don't smoke, 2. don't drink and drive, and 3. don't try to commit suicide.

Good Luck on this one, President Obama.

The Thighs That Ate Missouri

As of today, I am 22 miles east of Joplin. A few days ago, I came through Springfield, MO. I'll post a photo of me there tonight or tomorrow. I'm thinking that I should making a future trip through all the Springfield's in the US of A. A connect-the-dots caper.
I have been watching the Olympics. These are my gut reactions: 1. Luge does not seem worth the risk. It doesn't even look fun. 2. I don't like that pussy thing on Apollo Ohno's chin. 3. Those sawed-off Asian figure skaters just don't do it for me. 4. The compulsory Tango ice dancing was BORING, and, 5. Ice hockey makes sense to me.
If I could roll back the years and be an Olympic athlete, I would speed skate. I definately have the thigh meat for it. See my photo.
Today, I offer my thoughts (and suggestions) for the abortion issue in this land of ours:
Abortion is a lot like prostitution. It has been around forever, it is happening now, and, despite everything, will continue to happen.
I think that pro-life sorts should focus their do-gooder energies on unwanted, unplanned, unloved, abused, and neglected children.
To prevent abortions from being substitutes for birth control, I suggest the following:
1. Parents, don't sent your daughters to school looking like whores,'
2. Parents, teach your sons how to use condoms, and,
3. Parents, get your daughters on birth control at 18 (earlier, if they are likely to be doing it or thinking about doing it). Even if they aren't active, the pill will help with cramps and zits.

I should hit Joplin in a few days.

Obesity, the Ultimate Weapon of Mass Destruction

I am moving slower than I had hoped, between Rolla, Missouri and Joplin. I will write about mileage the next time because I really don't know where I am. Missouri is a large and lovely state, and she provokes my thoughts in all kinds of directions. Today, I am fixed on the problem of fatness in this country. I have personally struggled with weight since I hit 100 pounds in fourth grade. When I was a teen, there were no fat chick shops. If you were not a size 7 or 9, you had very few choices of clothing, so we dieted. We ate a lifesaver and a piece of double-mint gum for lunch. We learned to eat yogurt, cottage cheese, lettuce and celery. Exercise/sports for girls had not hit its stride. Yes, there was cheerleading for those girls with abnormal anatomical assets. But, these gals had to pay for all of their uniforms and pom poms, while the jock straps they were cheering for had everything provided. What the f**k? But, I digress. We are a very fat nation. We are paradoxically obsessed with eating and with being thin. The cover of most "family" magazines have an article like "6,994 cupcake recipes" and one for "Lose 10 pounds in fourteen minutes." We are a mess.

These are my suggested solutions:

1. If you are fat, your kids are probably fat too. You need to cancel your cable and get a membership at the Y. If you do not have kids and you are fat, you are probably an unhappy person who needs to get off of the couch and move around a whole bunch. Get a membership at some gym. Go there and find one machine you can get on and burn calories. I love my exercise bike, but you can choose from the elliptical, recumbant bike, treadmill or rowing machine. Give yourself 6 to 9 months, 4 or 5 days a week, sweating for 45 minutes to an hour. Nobody cares if you are fat. Most people will look at you and see that you are trying to not be fat.
2. Do not eat or feed your family these foods: Cheetos, Spam, Velveeta, Hi-C, Yoo-Hoo, Pork Rinds, Double Stuff Oreos, Twinkies/Ho-Hos/Ding-Dongs/Snowballs, Vienna Sausages, and, anything purchased at a gas station.
3. If you are poor and fat, eat these things: oranges, apples, rice, beans,eggs, celery, sweet potatoes, popcorn (the kind you make yourself, not pre-made or microwave 'cause these products are full of crap), carrots, greens, baked skinless chicken thighs, potatoes, oatmeal, milk, peas, whole wheat bread, bananas,
4. Dance.
5. Drink Water.
6. Don't think it is okay that you can buy fat chick/guy clothing everywhere. The clothing industry is in cahoots with the fast food and processed food industry. This triad wants you to exceed your caloric needs on a regular basis, causing you to seek out clothing in Omar-the-tent-maker sizes. When something says 2X it really means: "We love that you are fat, because we can sell you more fabric.
7. Accept the fact that these terms are not funny, but rather tragic: Cankles, camel toe, FUPA (fat upper pussy area) and muffin tops.

Failing Schools: Why not just nuke 'em?

I've been in New York for the last five days, so I have had to do my Route 66 mileage on the fly. I have managed to finish 36 miles (a rotten case of flu slowed me down) leaving around 95 miles until I reach Joplin. Nonetheless, I have been giving lots of thought to another of our nation's serious issues, Education in the United States, and offer the following ideas to the severely misguided, misinformed educational leadership of this country:
1. First, we must agree to throw out the notion that our schools are integrated. They're not. I do not have one white child in my third grade classroom, but the communities just a few miles south of the one in which I teach do not have any children named Jamal or Pedro.
2. Second, we must all accept the fact that the only really valid reason to subject children to standardized testing is so that real estate agents have the statistics they need to sell homes.

I'll have to finish this later. My plane is boarding.

I'm back at home, no problems with the flight, except for the fact that when you do the self check-in thing, they ask you if you want all of these upgrades, like, 6" of extra leg room for $39 and stuff like that. It's probably not long before we'll have to pay extra for seat cushions and oxygen masks.

More solutions for Education in the United States:

3. So-called failing schools need the tools to make up for what the children don't get from home, like their affluent peers:
A. Year-round school, and I don't mean three months on and one month off. I mean 44 weeks of school: Oct - Dec., two weeks off, Jan. - March, two weeks off, April - June, 2 weeks off, and, July - Sept., two weeks off. (Right now, the kids in my school are in session around 177 days or 35 weeks.) With my plan, they'd get another 9 weeks of school and not have the 3 month lag of summer during which they tend to forget everything. Teachers who don't like this should be invited to go pound sand.
B. Class size should be no more than 20 students. I don't give a f**k what research says, in schools with at-risk students, there should not be more than 20, and 15 would be ideal.
C. All kids in these so-called failing schools should be given breakfast and lunch, no questions asked, no lunch tickets, no frigging forms that parents have to fill out. For Christ's sake, feed these hungry children nourishing meals and stop dicking around with the paperwork.
D. Bring back God-damn Dick, Jane and Sally, or their multicultural counterparts. Our reading programs have become so ecclectic, basic learning-to-read books are not to be found. Kids are so confused.

These are the primary solutions I offer. Other ideas include: free English instruction for parents, field trips to museums, factories, historic sites, forests, nature preserves, businesses, plays, concerts, etc., all the kinds of places that poor kids never get to see, and art/physical education and music education on a regular basis.

We can afford to do these things, and we should be doing them.

I think I will have to lighten up tomorrow and tackle obesity.

folla me to Rolla

As of Sunday, Feb. 7th, I would have made it Rolla, MO. While there, I would have stopped into the iconic Route 66 establishment, Totem Pole Trading Post. I would have stocked up on some authentic, Native American souvenirs, made in China. I'd also grab some Big Red gum, Yoo Hoo, and beef jerky to keep body and soul together. I would then have 161 miles to go til Joplin, 10 days of 16 miles each. I've already done two of these ten, so, 8 to go. As I trek across the heart of the Show Me state, I will solve the problems of the world. First, I tackle:

GLOBAL WARMING!!!!!

As I look out the window at the February Fury snowstorm, blowing my raw, red nose every minute or so 'cause I have a wretched cold, global warming seems a remote threat. But, I believe it is happening. I also believe that we have a snowball's chance in hell of fixing it. We've abused this planet to such an extent that it will be like bailing out the Titanic with a spoon to set things right. So, why not look for the silver lining? #1. The sun will eventually burn out, so won't a warmer planet give LIFE ON EARCH a bit of an extension? #2. Don't we need the fresh water in them there glaciers. Melt away!! #3. Guys, (and many gals out there), bikini season will last forever.

In my next installment, I will explain how education in the United States can be fixed.

What's With All This Cake?

Today, Tues., Feb. 2, Groundhog Day, and, my hubby's b-day, I biked as far as Stanton, MO, right around one of the most celebrated Route 66 sites, Meramec Caverns. This would put me around 54 miles west of St. Louis. According to everything I've read, Meramec Caverns is one of the most "enjoyable and charming roadside attractions along the entire Mother Road." They charge 20 bucks to get in. A bit hefty, don't you think? Apparently, these caves have been Jesse James' hideout, saltpeter mines, dancehalls, and have held craft shows, chamber of commerce meetings and Easter Sunrise services. Still, I would definately shell out the money and check the place out. As long as there is a gift shop, I can endure anything.

Before I forget, there are some more folks I want on my moon mission: The Jonas Brothers, and, anyone who has ever danced in Michael Flatley's River Dance. Let them try to do that shit in low gravity.

It looks like I will be trekking across Missouri for the better part of February, so my musings will become weirder than usual. In fact, I would like to comment on President Obama's State of the Union address this past week. He continually refers to "Americans" meaning, we all know, citizens of the United States of America. But aren't Canadians Americans? Mexicans? Columbian's? Peruvian's? Argentinians? This frosts my nuts.

Another problem I am having lately is this obsession with cake on television. There seem to be about 10 programs devoted to cake baking. Ace of Cakes, Cake Disasters, Cake Boss, Cake Challenges, on and on, ad naseum. Here is my list of cakes that would be worth getting baked:
1. A fully loaded cat litter box cake
2. A cross-section of a colonoscopy cake
3. A Jerry Springer Cake (all entries must include an obese woman in spandex, with a camel toe, a bony-ass redneck with a doggy leash, and, a primordial dwarf)

Heading for Rolla.

The Lou

After 287 miles, I would have made it to St. Louis, from Waukegan, IL on Wednesday, Jan. 27, at around 4:30 pm. I'm sure I would be in love with this city, the Gateway to the West. From all I have read, this place reeks of Route 66, the road itself, the accomodations, the diners, eateries. This city has given the world a most amazing collection of personalities, artists and geniuses: Mark Twain, T.S. Eliot, Charles Lindberg, Tennesee Williams, Scott Joplin, Tina Turner AND Betty Grable (great legs, the two of them), Vincent Price and Josephine Baker, to name just a few. Of course I would have visited the Gateway Arch. See my photo, with my daughter Lucy's good friend, the lovely Tamar, a talented art student. I think I would be very comfortable and at home in St. Louis. I will return.

Next, I aim for Joplin, Missouri, as the song says.

Mount Olive

As of yesterday, I've got 38 miles to go before I reach St. Louis. I'm currently in the vicinity of Mt. Olive, noted for the Union Miners Cemetary where Mary "Mother" Jones, the "Grandmother of Agitators" is buried. Other fun facts about Mt. Olive: It's popultion of around 2200 people is 98 percent white, there are only 3 sex offenders recorded as living here, but, they make up for it by having a higher than average (for the state of Illinois) tornado rate.

More people I would like to send to the moon: Donnie and Marie, Dr. Phil, and, Valerie Bertinelli.

To the Moon

I made it another 15 miles on the road from Springfield to St. Louis today. I would be right around Raymond, IL. St. Louis is 56 miles from here. My mind has been fertile with all kinds of crazy stuff these last two days, and I would love to share some of it. For whatever reason, I came up with this concept of starting a human colony on the moon. Who should be in the first wave of people to go out there and give it a go? My list, which follows, includes people in three categories: 1. Those who are an embarrassment to humanity, 2. Those who are just bloody annoying, and, 3. Those who just need to leave the planet and never come back. They are listed here, in no particular order. I would love to know who you would add to the list. Some of these spellings are wrong, but you know who I mean.
1. Lindsay Lohan
2. Nancy Grace
3. O.J.
4. Ronald McDonald
5. Pat Robertson
6. Mel Gibson
7. Dick Cheney
8. Bob Saggat
9. Howard Stern
10. Jeb Bush
11. Melanie Griffith
12. Prince Charles
13. Paris Hilton
14. Rob Blagoyovich
15. Britney Spears
16. Kate Plus Eight

I hope to get more to stuff in this spacecraft before I send it to the moon. Waiting to hear from you.

St. Louis or bust

I left Springfield today. What a relief. Okay, Lincoln is buried here, and that is cool. Was his real daddy a black man, a slave, or not? If so, Barack is not the first African American. But who cares? I don't care if you are as blue as an Avatar, if you can fix this mess.
I bit off 18 of the 86 miles to go to St. Looey.

Made it to Springfield

Today was a significant day. I made it to Springfield, IL, capital of Illinois. I biked 16 miles yesterday, Tuesday, and 16 miles today. I think I drove over a big hank of Rob Blago's hair on the last leg into town. What a strange place Springfield is. The legacy of graft and corruption, for which Illinois is noted, is not surprising, once you see this place. It is somewhat dismal. How can this be the place from which Abe Lincoln rose to greatness? (Abe, who, by the way, was tortured by depression, got kicked in the head by a mule when he was a teenager, has no surviving heir, and stored stuff in his stovepipe hat.) And we can't forget that this is the seat of government for the state which produced our current pres., Barack, whose first year in office officially ends today. I may take tomorrow off from the road to check out Springfield. There has to be some magic here, not apparant to the naked eye. I certainly hope I don't run into our current governor, Quinn, who looks too damn much like Dick Cheney. Don't you agree?
I am pleased that my progress on Route 66 now shows up on a map of the U.S. The next major goal on my quest is St. Louis.

Dr. King

I did 18 easy miles today, bringing me within 32 miles of Springfield, IL. It happens to be Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's day of recognition, so I had the day off. So did my 25 third graders, who, I happen to know, spent their day celebrating their right to play video games, watch Jerry Springer, and eat hot cheetos. I don't think Dr. King would approve. What do you think?

Unhealthy obsessions

I completed 18 more miles today, leaving 50 to cover to reach Springfield. I thought I would have a rough ride today - drank a bit too much red wine last night - but the miles flew by with little suffering on my part. The Flogging Molly tracks my daughter just put on my Ipod are upbeat, funny, and, mostly about drinking. I highly recommend them.

Drinking wine is the only decent vice I have left. In it's defense: 1. Jesus did it, 2. It tastes good, 3. It energizes me and relaxes me at the same time, 4. I think it makes me more interesting/funny 5. It definately makes other people more interesting. I really can't add that it is good for you, because I know I consume more than the recommended "heart healthy" ration which is something like two ounces a day.

I welcome your own rationalizations for imbibing the grape (or whatever spirits you fancy.)

Until tomorrow, Nan

Why Does Illinois exist?

I've covered 56 more miles since my last post, pushing my way through to Springfield. While this section of Route 66 is not pretty, it does boast some cool roadside landmarks like the giant retro spaceman outside the Launching Pad Drive In in Wilmington. If I get my technology shit together, I will add a photo of my biking past this behemoth. Illinois has a whole lotta corn. People who are hungry should live here. In fact, I predict that when the Earth finally swallows up all of the people in other places with floods, hurricanes, tsunami's, volcanos, mud slides, earthquakes, wildfires, and the like, when the last polar bear falls off the last hunk of ice, people will find their way to Illinois. None of that stuff happens here, and, 20 percent of the planet's fresh water is right up the road in the Great Lakes. Gotta run. Can't wait to rub Lincoln's nose in Springfield!!

Things that piss me off

I did not bike yesterday. I got all the way to the gym, then realized that I had forgotton my sneakers. Today, I did 18 miles, 3 of which were in a "spin" class, which nearly killed me, the rest on my old trusty stationary bike. I am now through Morris IL, on Route 66, (don't know much about Morris, but it is an exciting town, in my book, being on old Route 66.) I am now heading towards Springfield, IL, with 193 to go. I've biked 104 miles all together, so far. I forgot to recharge my Ipod, so I had to amuse myself by making a list, alphabetical, of things I have not time for/that piss me off/that are stupid/ or/ that I would not make time for. I would love to know what pisses you off.
A: Administrators
B: Boredom
C: Costume Jewelry
D: Dusting
E: Embarrassment
F: Foam on Food
G: Glue Sticks
H: Humorless Assholes
I: Illiterate Morons
J: Jay Leno
K: Killing Spiders
L: Lardass Lawyers
M: Malingerers (sp?)
N: Nail Polish
O: Ovulation
P: Pennies
Q: Quitters
R: Rachel Ray
S: Spitting
T: TV Commercials
U: Uncomfortable Shoes
V: Video Traffic Survelliance
W: Wobbly Tables
BoX Wine
Y: Yellow Teeth
Z: Zealots

I plan on putting in 72 more miles this week, which will bring me 121 miles from Springfield. How will I pass the time? Check back in to find out.

Today ends my first week of virtual travel, by stationary bike, on Route 66. I completed 86 miles this weeks, which puts me about 9 miles on the other side of Joliet. I'm using a variety of maps to chart my course. Because there have been so many changes to Route 66 over the past 60 years, I am following the best approximation of the original road as I possibly can.

I took yesterday off, but on Friday, since it was Elvis's 75th birthday, I set my Ipod on Elvis for the whole of my 15 miles. Watched a lot of crap on the telly about Elvis and what he would be doing if he were alive. Priscilla thinks he would be singing Gospel. Really. But, we do deify those who exceed all records. It's a phenomenon. Did Elvis' followers not know that he was Tiger Woods-ing it all over the world? But then, what about Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, JFK, MLK, and so many other idols. Wouldn't it be refreshing to find out that some gals, say, Betsy Ross, Helen Keller, Mother Theresa, had lovers in every city. Today, I rode 18 miles. I hope to complete 90 miles this coming week.

I hope to do at least 90 miles this week.

Explored Chicago, Hit the highways and byways

Yesterday was a day off from the bike. If I was in Chicago, I would have visited the stuffed animal exhibit at the Field Museum, Joseph Cornell's crazy, multi-media boxes at the Art Institute, my lovely South American, Paolo, at my favorite restaurant, Fogo, and Uncle Fun's, near Belmont. I'd have picked up a few magazines for the road at Borders on Michigan Ave., and spent the night at the Chicago Hilton and Towers.

Bright and early this morning I would have headed for the Lake Shore Drive and Jackson, and climbed aboard the Mother Road, headed West. I only rode 15 miles today, so, I would have made it somewhere between Cicero and Joliet. On the road out of Chicago, I would have (and actually did) listen to Reginald Robinson on my Ipod. Reginald is a Chicago treasure, known to few, but superior to most young musicians of his ilk. He peforms his own original ragtime pieces with flair and panache. On some tunes, you'd think he had 6 hands.

Made it to the City of Big Shoulders

I biked the last 18.7 miles into Chicago today. Virtually, of course. After leaving Winnetka, I tootled down Green Bay Road to Wilmette, taking a detour to see the Bahai Temple, which looms up at your, all white and lotus-blossomy. It's the one and only Bahai Temple on the North American continent. Then, into Evanston, stopping at the Spice House to grab some double-strength vanilla extract and Sunny Paris seasoning mix for the road. I made a trip around the Evanston Hospital, now know as Northshore something or other, in honor of my mom, visiting us from upstate New York this summer, underwent 8 hours of surgery (24 hours, according to her) to remove her gall bladder and some other bits. I continued to listen to Chicago tunes as I rode, the first three albums. I fell in love with this band when I was in 7th grade, back in the early 70s. I began taking trombone lessons because I thought James Pankow was the hottest man on Earth. I met him a couple of years ago, at a concert in Waukegan, at the Genessee Theater, and, frankly, he was a LOT shorter than I expected him to be. Don't get me wrong, I would still do him, but the other horn players, Walt Parazaider and Lee Loughnane, man, they are two tall, hunky drinks of water. So, here I am in Chicago, I'm going to stay at the Chicago Hilton and Towers, because, obviously, money is no object. I'm going to spend tomorrow exploring this town and getting ready to hit the Mother Road on Thursday.

Halfway to Chicago

I guess my first blog entry was not so enticing. No takers. Not one to be easily discouraged, I'll try to spice it up a bit. Today, Jan. 4, was the first day of my virtual trip from Chicago to LA, on Route 66. It was also the first day back to my third grade classroom after 2 weeks of holiday break, living high on the hog. Not actually high, but thinking about it. When my eyes opened this morning, at 7 o'dark thirty, I nearly had a panic attack trying to get my head around the idea of getting up and going into a room with 25 8 and 9 years old. I love these kids to bits, but they suck the life out of you. But, in I went, partially fortified by my plans to start this Route 66 challenge. After school, I headed for the gym. Being married to a Navy retiree, I am able to work out, free, at the gym at Naval Training Center, Great Lakes. I'm a "dependent", which rankles me, somewhat, especially since I put in my own 11 years on active duty in the boat club, but, I always say that the Navy is the gift that keeps on giving, and I'm f'-ing lucky to have yolked myself to a retiree whose benefits I can suck up. Besides, the eye candy at the Navy gym ain't a bad thing for a 51-year-old cougar wannabe. So, today, I googled the mileage from Waukegan, my city of residence, boyhood home of Jack Benny and Ray Bradbury, to Chicago. It's 37.4 miles from here to there, so I made it my goal to get halfway there on my stationary bike. And, damned if I didn't make it. It is my good fortune to have, at the end of my street, the bike path which goes from somewhere up in bum freak Wisconsin to Chicago. If I was actually doing this, I would have hopped on this, and headed for Chicago, pedalling like crazy through the dodgy parts of Waukegan and North Chicago, passing Great Lakes, SA-LOOT, and heading for Lake Forest. It would be here that I would smell the money and watch the trophy wives driving their SUVs, with their golden retrievers slobbering out of the windows. Then, through Highwoood, then past where the Fort Sheridan Army base used to stand, but which is now a high-rent, luxury home development that makes me want to puke. Through Highland Park where they drive like douchebags, onto Wilmette, ending in Winnetka, home of a very, very dear friend, Deb. Amazing that my Deb's city is exactly halfway to Chicago, 18.7 miles. Today's drive was brought to you by Chicago, the band, on my Ipod. "Twenty-Five or Six to Four," "I'm a Man," Does Anybody Really Know What Time it Is?," and all the others, from the first three albums, the most ground-breaking stuff they did, as far as I am concerned. Tomorrow, I will make it to Chicago, and be ready to launch onto Route 66.

Day one

Hello out there. I am beginning this blog, five minutes into the first day of my adventure, Monday, January 4th, 2010. I do love to ride the stationary bike, and, I have wanted to take a trip on Route 66 for many years. Putting these two things together, I came up with a plan, a New Year's Resolution, I suppose, to ride my stationary bike from my home in Waukegan, IL, to the end of Route 66, in Los Angeles, and back again. I'll post something tomorrow, after I have gone the first stretch. My daughter has agreed to help me by adding photos of the places I will "see" and the things I look forward to "doing" along the way. I hope you come back to check on my progress, and, share your own stories, goals, aspirations, etc. Nan