Tag: Colorado

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Where Are We From?

It happened again recently. We were sitting in a rooftop bar in Montreal, sipping palomas and enjoying the view of the waterfront, when a woman at the table next to us leaned over and asked, “So where are you from?”

“Uhh…,” I offered hesitantly.
 
“Umm…?” Bob said questioningly.
 
It’s a difficult question right now, “Where are you from.” How do we answer it?
 
We’re from Mexico. At this moment. Sort of. Except where in Mexico? A few months in Guadalajara/Tlaquepaque, a few in Guanajuato. Next up, Mexico City.
 
But we’re currently living in Ludlow, Vermont.
 

But …

But we’re not “from” either of those places, because we just finished living for a decade in Colorado.

But we’re not “from” Colorado, either, because before we moved west, we lived for about 20 years in New York.
 
But we’re not really “from” New York, either, because we were both born in Pennsylvania (Bob in Mechanicsburg, outside Harrisburg, and Lisa in Williamsport, the home of Little League Baseball). And we both lived in a ton of different places before meeting in New York.
 
In Mexico, when they ask, “De donde es?” (“Where are you from?), they are asking, “Where you were born?” We can say “Somos de Estados Unidos” or “Somos de Pennsylvania” (We’re from the United States, or We’re from Pennsylvania.)
 
But to everyone else? Lately I’ve been saying, “We split our year between summers in Vermont and the rest of the year exploring Mexico.”

Ask the Kids

We asked the kids how they would answer the question, “Where are you from?”
 
“Easy,” Gavin said. “I just tell them I’m from Colorado. They want to know where I came here from before college. That’s Colorado.”
 
“Colorado,” agreed Aryk. “Except that I was born in New York. And I live in England. But I just say Colorado.”
 
And that’s where we’re from. Right now. What would YOU say?

By Lisa Hamm-Greenawalt

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We Made it to Tlaquepaque!

We finally made it to Tlaquepaque!

Our 6-day trip from Pennsylvania to this village just south of Guadalajara where we planned to spend our first four months in Mexico ended up taking 14 days, but we finally arrived on Jen. 19 – exactly four months after we left Colorado.

On the Friday of our week in Leon, Lisa and I decided to bite the bullet and try to get gas so we could continue on to Tlaquepaque. (If you recall, we were only in Leon because we couldn’t get enough gas to get to our final destination, Tlaquepaque.) We were determined to wait all day if necessary. A few days earlier, we had been told that the Leon government website listed stations that would be receiving gasoline that night or the following morning. We looked at it and saw only 20 stations (for a city of 1.5M people) getting gas. Our observations supported this, as we would see lines at only 1 of 10 or 12 gas stations we passed as we Ubered around town. And the lines were long.

And even though we kept hearing the situation was going to get better, it didn’t. So we enjoyed Leon and ignored the gas situation for a few days. Why stress over it?

But on Friday, Lisa read in the Mexico News Daily that a pipeline was opening to Leon on Saturday, and the number of stations pumping was supposed to increase to 35%.  Lisa wanted to get to Tlaquepaque, so we decided to give it a shot.

The Early Bird Gets the Gas

So we got up before 6, gathered books, tables, drinks and snacks to entertain us during an anticipated long wait. and drove to the nearest gas station. There wasn’t a line, but that was because they weren’t pumping. We continued down the road and saw a line several blocks long for another station. As we drove by, we saw that they were pumping gas. We tried to make a u-turn to get to that station on a side road, but we were unsuccessful, being forced to take a long way onto a highway and wasting 10 precious miles worth of gas in the process.

When we doubled back we spotted another gas station that was also pumping, with a shorter line, so we got in line. Lisa and I discussed that we really needed at least 600 pesos worth of gas to get to Tlaquepaque, but stations were limiting sales to 500 pesos per car. We agreed that 700 pesos would provide a bit of a margin of error if we got lost. Finally, we discussed what we needed to say to the attendant, in Spanish, to attempt to get that 700 pesos worth of gas.

The early morning line for gas

The line moved quickly and we were soon at the pump. Lisa hopped out and told him that we were trying to get to Tlaquepaque, where our house was, and 500 pesos wouldn’t be enough to make it. Could he help? He told us that all he was allowed to give us was 500 pesos. But nonetheless, he pumped 600 pesos, looking furtively in both directions to make sure no one noticed. Then, in an act of compassion, he reset the pump and pumped us full with another 550 pesos of gas! We were ecstatic! And, of course, we tipped him generously.

Made it to the pump in just 15 minutes

Success — a full tank!

A Full Tank, But Locked Out

In our wildest dreams, we had never even considered that this would be the outcome. We had our Leon Airbnb rented for another day, but on the short drive home, we decided that we would pack and head to Tlaquepaque as soon as we could get packed up. later that day. We did have one small glitch: We only hade one set of keys for the apartment, which were inside with Lexie, and she was sound asleep. It could be hours before she rose. Her phone ringer was off so we could not reach her.  outside the complex gate for half an hour or so, Lisa got the idea to contact the woman who rented to us, and our host quickly brought us a second set of keys that allowed us to get in, get Lexie up and start packing. Instead of waiting in a gas line, we ended up waiting an hour and a half to get back into our apartment!

Finally On The Road

We were on the road for our 2½ trip by 11 AM. About 1½ hours into our trip, closer to Guadalajara, I thought that it might be a good idea to fill up again. However, from that point on, almost all gas stations didn’t have gas and the one or two open ones we saw had huge lines. So when we arrived at our rented house in Tlaquepaque, we parked the truck with 5/8 of a tank and decided to use walking, public transportation or Uber until the situation is stabilized here.

But, we’re here and getting settled in. We’ve essentially been traveling for four months since we left Colorado, so it feels so good to be settled for a while!

Our new home!

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Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, Part 6: Driving Cross-Country, Episode 2

Driving Cross-Country (Episode 2)

ELLIE SMOIT

(Later that day)

Maybe I spoke too soon. And maybe I shouldn’t have mocked Noxy about having an accident in his cage.
Because hours and hours and hours later, I just couldn’t hold it anymore. And with a long, pitiful, humiliated groan, I let loose.

O-o-o-o-h.

There’s nothing worse than sitting in your own pee. For more than an HOUR.

Because the first gas station bathroom we visited to clean me up had a broken bathroom door. And the second one wouldn’t let cats in. And the first pet-friendly hotel was too disgusting to check in to. And the second was an hour and a half away.

She dried me off ni the litter box

And once we got there, I had to endure the worst experience in life: a BATH. As soon as I could, I leaped from the bathtub, soaking wet, right into the litter box, where I proceeded to cover myself with cat litter that stuck to my wet fur. Then I shook it all off, spraying Mommy and Grammy with a sweet combination of water, wet litter and pee. I showed them!

Then Mommy took a shower.
And Grammy and PopPop (Lisa and Bob) had to go wash every blanket in the car (which were under the cage) AND the seat cover. Because my pee dripped down onto my brother’s cage underneath me – PopPop had us stacked double-decker and strapped into the car. But PopPop said that seat cover was amazing. It did a great job of protecting the actual seat of our new truck.
So I was half wet and miserable, but my mommy was there, and I cuddled her. And I head-butted her a lot. And I slept next to her.
And I made sure I used the litter box before I got into the car the next morning.

Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, is chronicling her journey from her house in Colorado across the United States and to Mexico, with a little help from her owner, Lexie Greenawalt.


I can clean MYSELF, thank you very much


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Driving Cross Country (Day 1)


Our drive across the country, in pictures

The journey: 1,666 miles, from Lakewood, Colorado to our first stop, Grandma’s house in Mechanicsburg, PA
The cast: Bob, Lisa, Lexie and three adored cats: Ellie, Equinox (Noxy) and Kaylee
The goal: Finish in two days and a few hours.

DAY 1 – Saturday, Sept. 22
Lakewood, CO – Burlington, CO

Filling the cab

Shoving the stuff in
It fit!
Driving across the plains … 

…  through Colorado

Lots of wind
First Night: Western Motor Inn in Burlington, CO. Pet-friendly, $46 a night plus $10 a cat.
Kenji, the resident cat at the Western Motor Inn

Watch out, Kenzi’s a mean one!

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Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, Part 5: Driving Cross-Country (Episode 1)

Driving Cross-Country, Episode 1

ELLIE SMOIT

Last night I cried for 2 ½ hours.

Yesterday was my first day on the road. I don’t like my cage. I detest it. Then they put me in that big gray box with wheels. I think they call it a truck. And it started moving.
I don’t feel good. I cried and I  cried and I cried. They couldn’t see me panting so I cried louder. Whenever they weren’t paying attention to me, I screamed so they would keep paying attention to me.
I think I really upset my dad.
Then Noxy had diarrhea. Fortunately, it didn’t happen until we arrived at the hotel.
That’s me on top. Noxy is underneath.

I didn’t have to stay in the same room as Noxy and Kaylee, because I would have taken my anger out on the kitten.

But I had my own room with Mommy and I cuddled her a lot and head-butted her in the middle of the night. She brought her own quilt and I slept on it.
I know Grandma, in the other room, had to clean out Noxy’s cage and give him a bath. I hate baths.
Now it’s morning and we’re back on the road again. Noxy is in the cage under me. He doesn’t smell too bad. Oops, now he does.
I’m still panting, but I can see the outside and it’s pretty. And flat. And there are a lot of cows. And wind turbines. And fields. And sky. And that’s about it.
So I’m crying less. But I’ll probably cry later.

Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, is chronicling her journey from her house in Colorado across the United States and to Mexico, with a little help from her owner, Lexie Greenawalt.

Kaylee had the best view

Noxy was on the bottom

I was the dominant cat on top
Kaylee staked her claim to backpacks and suitcases



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Will It Fit?

BOB

My biggest worries were whether our household goods would fit into our 10 x 20-foot storage facility, and whether everything we put aside to take to Mexico would actually fit in the truck.

The Storage Facility
For months I worried whether we could purge and pare down enough to be able to fit our household into a storage facility. Because obviously the larger the unit, the more it would cost. And if we don’t go back there for 10  years, that’s a lot of money. So I wanted to minimize the size of the storage facility space.

But we wouldn’t know the answer to that question until the movers came.

My mounting anxiety climbed higher than the boxes stacking up around the house. 

Filling up the moving truck

I had rented a 10×20 foot storage unit. The day before the movers came,  I went to the storage facility and asked if they happened to have larger units available, and what the process would be for getting one at the last minute if needed. They told me they had larger units available, and the additional cost wouldn’t be exorbitant.

So when the movers came the next day, that was the first thing I discussed with them: Would what we have fit into a 10×20 foot storage space?

The expert, after looking at all of our stuff, said, “If it fits in our truck, it will fit into a 10×20. But it looks really close.”

As they loaded everything into the moving van, I kept looking at how much was left in the house and how much space was left in the truck.

We were getting close to the end and the truck was almost full. Our one saving grace, though, was that our space was 11 feet high, and their truck was only 8 feet high, so I knew we had some additional space.

Still, in the end, I made a determination that we had just a little too much to fit into that space. So I went to the storage facility and got us a bigger unit. This one was cavernous: 30 feet long with 14-foot ceilings. And as an added bonus, our new storage unit was directly across from the elevator.

So in the end, it may not have fit but we went with the flow and go the stuff into storage.



Next: Part 2: The Truck


My anxiety mounted with the boxes

Everything we own in the world

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Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, Part 4: Empty House

Empty House

ELLIE SMOIT
Mommy finally let us out of the bathroom. We’ve been in here all day snarling at each other. Well, once I was locked out on the catio.
But now we’re out.
Wait, what? Everything is gone. The mountains of boxes are gone. The big bed is gone. All the pillows are gone.
I wander to the laundry room, and the laundry baskets are still there for me to sleep in. Thank goodness! And a few cat toys here and there.
My mommy Lexie is still here. But her bed is gone.
And why do they keep feeding us in the cat carriers? It’s suspish. I don’t think I like this.

I think I’ll go nap in the clean laundry.

Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, is chronicling her journey from her house in Colorado across the United States and to Mexico, with a little help from her owner, Lexie Greenawalt.


Lexie is still here but her bed is gone

I can still go on the windowsills

All the pillows in the alcove are gone

There are still bags to play in

And cabinets to explore



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Pain

I had no idea it would be this painful.
We’re in the home stretch now. The packers are coming tomorrow. The movers are coming on Wednesday. And I am having an emotional breakdown. Help!
Church farewells
Yesterday Lexie and I went to Evergreen Lutheran Church for the last time. I was doing the readings and Pastor Vera and the congregation were giving us a blessing for safe travels.
As soon as we walked into the Narthex, people kept coming up to hug us, wish us luck, ask about our adventure, and say goodbye. By the time we got to our seat in the second row, I already had a huge lump in my throat. When it came time to read, I could barely speak for the swell of unexpected emotion constricting my voice. I went up onto the altar and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, this is very difficult,” I shared shakily from the pulpit. “This is our last time attending this church, and I’m suddenly feeling very emotional. This is a wonderful place and I really love all of you.” Then I took a deep breath, Pastor Vera smiled, and I began.
Her sermon was about answering God’s call and embarking on the journey even if you don’t know the outcome, trusting God and saying yes. From God’s lips to our ears!
More hugs and tears afterward, and the Piecemakers, a woman’s group that makes quilts for people in needs, gave us a quilt as a parting gift, which Lexie claimed for her own.
Aryk’s room
We got home and I attacked Aryk’s room. I took down the pictures on the walls, cleared out the closet, and transformed it from a cheerful bedroom that was my child’s home for four years to a sterile space of boxes and furniture.
That’s when the wave of grief really hit me. I suddenly felt horrible to be doing this to Aryk, and to Lexie – taking away their happy home, leaving them in a place of uncertainty.
Everything we have sorted and purged, every childhood pony drawing and too-small top and old Barbie video game that has landed in the trash or donation pile, has felt like a piece of my soul being stripped away.  The cheerful painted masks from around the world have come off the dining room wall and been imprisoned in a box, and those memories feel boxed up with them. Same with the colorful montage of family photos in the hallway. The old Halloween costumes. The boxes of unwanted books. Traces of our family history, pulled away like a scab and carelessly discarded.
The pain in my stomach is real. The deep exhaustion I feel comes from so much more than hours upon hours of packing. It’s a psychic wringing out. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this, but I know no one on this planet who has made this kind of life-changing decision and told the story.
Bob
Except my husband, my partner in life, who confessed to me that he sometimes also stops and says, what the hell are we doing?

And that, somehow, makes me feel a little better.
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The Purge (Part 3)

BOB

The first thing that comes to mind when you think of The Purge is all of the decisions that have to be made about what to keep and what to get rid of. I think that is the easy part. For me, the hard, and more time-consuming, part is actually getting rid of the things you decide not to keep.

Classifying stuff

We’ve been separating things we want to get rid of into categories.
Category 1: Sell

The first category is items which we think have some value and would be relatively easy to sell. For us, this includes things such as a pop-up trailer, piano, truck cargo bed cover, and stamp and coin collections. This sounds easy, but to do this we’ve had to find stamp and coin collectors willing to buy what we’ve had. We’ve had to find someone who specializes in eBay consignments and we’ve had to actively market items on Facebook, NextDoor and Craigslist. It has taken an immense amount of work to get rid of those items.
Category 2: Donate

The second category is items that have some value, but we really can’t, or don’t, have the time to sell. Examples include my former Felt racing bike, a nice table and set of chairs, clothing, books and old electronics. Once again, we’ve had to dole these things out to multiple places.

Today’s ARC run

We started out by donating a truckload of items to Lisa’s church’s annual yard sale. We had 15 boxes of books picked up by 50/50 Bookstore, a pay-as-you-go community bookstore in Denver. We’ve taken multiple (three and counting) truckloads of stuff to donate to our local ARC Thrift Store. We gave a coffee table to a local girl looking to furnish her first college apartment,  a scooter to a neighbor kid, a box of cereal bars to a homeless man.

Along the way, we’ve discovered items that we’ve borrowed from various people that now need to (finally) be returned.

Category 3: True Trash
The final category is items that no longer have value to anyone. It’s not quite as simple as putting them out with the trash, because we don’t want to fill landfills unnecessarily. So we separate our items. Electronics (the outdated stereo system, old computer monitors, cords and useless remotes) go to Best Buy for recycling. Paper, metal and plastic get recycled. Even so, there are items that we have to put out with the trash.
I’m looking forward to the point in time where we’ve rid the house of the things we no longer want to keep, so we can focus on boxing everything else up.

(To be continued)

We had to pare this down
The pile in the garage was astronomical

Burning up old checkbooks and bank statements
What to do with a moth-eaten old Boy Scout headdress?
ARC got many carloads of stuff
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Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, Part 3: The Collar

The new jingly thing around my neck

ELLIE SMOIT

Jingle jingle. Scratch. Why won’t this thing come off?
I was sitting on some pillows glaring at Kaylee when Grandma came into the room and stuck a red thing on my neck. It has a bell. It won’t come off.
I sound like a damn dog! I can’t sneak up on Kaylee and jump her anymore. True tragedy. (Well, actually, I can still jump her. I just can’t be sneaky about it.) 
I made my displeasure known, and the bell was removed — but it was replaced by an almost-as-jingly plate. That, however, is better, because it can fit in my mouth. Chomp. I’m leaving my mark on the thing with my sharp teeth.

(P.S. I think I saw my name on the plate before I started chomping. And maybe a phone number. And I see that Kaylee has a turquoise one and Noxie has a blue striped one. So perhaps they just don’t want to lose me.)

Ellie Smoit, the Adventure Cat, is chronicling her journey from her house in Colorado across the United States and to Mexico, with a little help from her owner, Lexie Greenawalt.

I actually love Lexie despite the tag

Showing off my teeth and tongue simultaneously

See my name on the tag?
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