In the heart of the Midwest

Okay, folks. We need a QUICK update, because yesterday was a LONG driving day, which included navigating the Penske through downtown Minneapolis. We've got to hit the road this morning and head on to Ohio!

Yesterday was quite eventful, and it's a shame I don't have more time to expound on the beauty of the "world's largest twine ball rolled by one man".



It's a bit hard to see, as it's encased in its own little plexiglass pavilion. No one seemed to be around to open the museum for us, but we did find a guest book in the large mailbox in front of it.



Not much else is going on in Darwin, MN (at least we didn't find it). But we did visit the Twineball Antiques shop, where we bought commemorative T-shirts.



Back on the road, much work was accomplished (believe it or not) with our double-socket cigarette-lighter laptop plug. Just learn to ignore the bumps in the road.




After making our way into the heart of downtown Minneapolis, we popped out to pay tribute to Mary Tyler Moore...



...and rewarded ourselves for getting out of the city in the 26' foot in one piece by spending an hour in the Mall of America.



We did have a couple of other planned sites to see on our way. "Large Chicken" was not impressive enough to stop, though we saluted it from the highway. "Another Giant Mouse with Cheese" also didn't merit a side trip (though we saw it through the window). However, we did stop for Paul Bunyan and Babe. Who wouldn't?



So now we're off again. What lies in store? Tune in tomorrow to find out.

On the road, you betchah!

The TRUCK! Although most people are thrilled when they're upgraded at a car rental place, we were slightly stunned to find out our 22' Penske truck had been substituted with a 26' one. Oh well, perhaps size doesn't matter after all.



With all of Rebecca's things packed in the Penske, we were ready to head out! But not before stopping at the Siouxland Buffalo place, which features the best of the buffalo: meat...



...and moccasins. Here we see the backroom slaughter-boy-turned-shoe-salesman luring Sally into a sale.



After a quick stop for lunch at the Beehive Cafe in Reynolds, ND, where we donated $5 to the local pull-tab industry, we were ready to head down to Fargo and across the border...



...into Minnesota. You betchah.



First stop in the Land o' Lakes? Rothsay.



Rothsay is the home of the world's LARGEST "Booming" Prairie Chicken. (I wonder where the second largest one is.)



But our fowl play didn't stop there. Next we stumbled upon the world's LARGEST Crow in Belgrade, MN.



In case you don't believe me, here's the proof:



And after a night at Rebecca's friend Dean's house in Willmar, MN, we boarded the Penske and headed out once more.

Let the adventure begin!

Here we go! Happy travelers Sally and Chris (newly blond) sit and await takeoff on one of their three flights from Boston to Grand Forks, North Dakota.



As we started our descent into Grand Forks Airport, we noted the ND topography—all laid out in perfect patchwork of squares, each dotted with a little farm or two.



Rebecca got right to work showing us the sights and sounds of her native area, including her cow-calling technique.



Apparently it works…



Having settled down for a lovely meal at the home of Rebecca’s sister, Karen, we were unaware that a tornado had touched down only a few miles away in Northwood, Rebecca’s hometown. The hail storm did make us wonder if we would make it through the night.



We surveyed the damage around Northwood, which included a damaged silo, a toppled trailer park, several ripped-up buildings, and dozens of cars mangled like pieces of foil.



We spent the afternoon packing up Rebecca’s things, and tomorrow we pick up the Penske truck and take our adventure on the road!

From the Icy North Atlantic

I’ll post more photos and videos after we return, but at 50 cents a minute, I’m trying to limit my internet time on board! Here’s an amuse-bouche of images to start with.


Here we are, the happy cruisers, docked in Skagway, or thereabouts. Behind us is our ship, the Pacific Princess, temporary home to 684 passengers and 373 crew.


They’re lumberjacks and they’re OK. And they put on quite a cute little show.


Three of us decked out in formal wear in the dining room. The food was mostly nursing-home-haute-cuisine, meaning that it all looked great, but tasted like someone locked up the chef’s spice rack.


I found these doggies eyeing their owner as they sat in a pickup truck parked outside a local tavern in Juneau. Luckily these weren’t the ones pulling our dog sled.


One of the many chunks of ice in Glacier Bay. Come see them while they’re still here!


The White Pass & Yukon Railway was one of the highlights of the trip. Running alongside the Gold Rush Trail of 1898, this train takes you from sea level to 3000 feet in about an hour.

Les montréalais de l'avenir?

Don't we look so content standing in front of a fluttering fleurdelisé? After escaping corporate America, next stop–escape America... again! Of course I gotta transform the men in my life into francophones. Alors...

Koby getting a fix

Koby loves chocolate, and he loves ice cream. And having them together in Montréal is even better.

Koby hard at work

OK, really this is just a cute way for me to try out posting videos to my blog using my new camcorder before hitting the road/air/sea for Alaska. And what's cuter than the Koby man? Enjoy. It's the first of many.

The Feds

Just back from Montréal. It was Koby's first trip out of the US, and Dennis's first time out since we arrived in America July 2001! We had a wonderful time in the city, and are hoping to return this fall.

Fortunately I was able to get my new passport in time to make this, and several other upcoming trips. This passport is called an "also-known-as" passport. It has my old name as the "real" name in the front with my picture. Then on the very last page it has, in computerized type, the sentence: "The bearer is also known as Christopher Lee Wenger Sol Cruz."

The federal government had rejected my regular application for a new passport with name change, citing verbage from the Defense of Marriage Act. They said that they don't recognize my marriage in MA as a viable reason for having my passport name changed, and I was given two options: (1) have my name changed by court decree (this takes 3-6 months and costs $165), or (2) show evidence that I have been using my new name for FIVE YEARS. Egad.

Fortunately the GLAD website had information about others in my predicament, and suggested I try to get this AKA passport. So after weeks of calling to get an appointment at the Boston Passport Agency, 3 visits to said office, and countless hours of waiting in line, I have my shiny new passport. If I have any trouble using it beyond the simple drive over the Canadian-US border, I may have to do the whole probate-court-name-change thing and start over.

Alas, as we were driving back from Montréal last Sunday, the passports were the least of our problems. It's funny how going into Canada things were "Oh, you're going to Montréal for Divers/Cité? Great." But coming back to the land of the "free," our border agent looked in the car and demanded, "Passports." This was quickly followed by a blunt, "Where Mom?"

Not expecting this kind of question, and at first not even realizing what the agent was asking, Dennis and I looked at each other stunned. Then, the penny dropped.

"Oh," we said, smiling, "two Dads--no Mom." To this, the agent simply replied "Oh." Then he passed our documents back, and we were on our way.

Exactly what prompted this man to ask this question, I can't be sure. But to say that it annoyed and slightly enraged me is an understatement. Luckily Koby is at an age where he didn't really pick up on the whole situation. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive that he's going to wonder where his birthmother is sometime soon. But I still don't understand why this question was appropriate for an immigration officer to ask.

Then again, they are the gods, and we must simply jump at their command. One thing I know is that you NEVER talk back to an border agent.

Sure, it was an isolated incident, but I have to say that on a trip to Canada where I was already awash with fantasies of relocating to a place that builds its societal values on tolerance and respect, rather than money and fear, it made my shiny new passport sudden seem very ragged.