Train Fat

I went for a 15 minute run today and it was one of the hardest runs that I've done in a good long while. I see you, thinking "15 minutes, that's nothing". and not even a week ago, I would have agreed. That was before I gained all of this train fat from sitting on the train for just over three days in a row. That's over 72 hours of straight sitting people. My body is not used to moving anymore. Fortunately, I'll be hitting up a "Poor Man's Yoga" class this evening as well. So, hopefully we can get things back into working order. 

This train ride was a strange'un. In some ways I expect a cross country train to be filled with antiquity loving, beautiful hipsters, all wearing retro shoes and sunglasses. Besides followers of the scene, I expected patient, elderly travelers who drink their fill of overpriced wine in their sleeper cars and romance one another like they've just fallen in love. Suffice to say, my expectations were not met. 

This cross country train was all business. At least on the first leg of my journey, most of the people that I encountered were either coming or going to Wilson, ND. There were men going there with guaranteed jobs working where the oil is being drilled. There were people rushing there in hopes of getting jobs pertaining to the oil boom and there was at least one person who was commuting to Wilson to work as a waitress. Word on the tracks is, there's so much money to be had in North Dakota that people can afford to buy cars after working for only a few months. People are getting jobs as drivers, station builders, and  pipe layers. even gas station workers are supposedly getting about $18.oo an hour in Wilson. 

It's a strange thing to become an accidental part of a migrating flock. I felt like we were doing something that Americans have been doing forever. In the past we were going to pan gold, or to pick fruit. Instead, of heading west, Now we were heading to the center to drill oil. Luckily, the first leg of the train wasn't overly crowded so it wasn't hard to come by sleep and a good stretch during this bit of migration.

The second leg, from Chicago. was far more crowded and less migratory. By that leg, I was over trains and ready to get home and take a shower. Now, if you read my last post, you know that I am home with Mamaw and my older sister, clean showered and ready to do some yoga.

Here are a few pictures from the journey.

We actually did get to leave the train sometimes. Here on layover in Chicago 

Blue skies and sunshine are a magical thing coming from Portland in the winter 

 A bit of fencing at the Milwaukee station.

In the flat brown stretch. There was a lot of this. 

Frozen River

Every once and a while the flat lands gave us some busted dumpsters, buildings, and cars.

Snow in a way that we never see it in Portland.

Home. Sweet, sweet home.

I'm at home or I'm at a home of sorts. I'm at my grandmom's, Mamaw's, home.

I'm home but she's away in the hospital. I should be getting things set up for her to come home but thanks to my treacherous west coast inner clock I am just waking up.

Thought I should let you all know, the trip went basically well. Things are starting to happen here this morning. So, I've got to go.

A better update from this home, later.

Slipped Through Your Fingers

Suck it up Portland boys. You should have acted sooner. No worries, I'll be back in a couple of months. 

When I heard that you were leaving town

Turn up the heat

So, it's cold again. We ran out of oil last week and it seems like it's gotten colder every day since. Today, we're getting more oil which will be good for the next five days that I'm here. Then the room goes over to Sauce, my roomie who lives in a RV outside our house.

I'm excited to go somewhere with guaranteed heat. Even, if it's not the very warm kind. Bring it on Richmond. I'll be back via the train on Feb. 1st. 4:50 p.m. estimated arrival time.

Quittin' Time

I'm leaving my job. It's hard to say how long I've wanted to leave this job. It's been a long love-hate relationship with the ol' Slappy Cakes. From an underemployed start as a weekend hostess to the rush of summer work as a server back to sometimes hosting and then over to infrequent serving shifts in the winter, Slappy Cakes (or Slappy Jacks as my dad likes to accidentally call it) has been a crazy ride of strange work scheduling.

Most of the love I have for the place is because my coworkers are awesome. I will miss them so much. However, much of the hate come from the fact that Slappy Cakes is owned by a couple of people I would  kindly characterize as horrible people. Inconsistent and bad owners at best.

Despite or because of this, I am leaving after a year and a quarter of semi consistent employment. What did I learn? I don't know for sure. maybe that I don't want to be in food service any more or maybe that I want to work for owners that care about their workers.

Also, I've got more important places to be right now than working at a silly, over-hyped, kids restaurant. I hope everyone else that works there gets out soon too. That place can turn into a black hole of despair in the wintertime and I don't want anyone else to suffer through it for much longer.

All the best.

Grinchin' it.

Am I a Grinch? Everyone here makes me feel as though I am as soon as the topic of snow arises.

The thing is, I don't love snow. Am I wrong or is snow cold, wet, and hard thing in which to travel? When snow sits around it gets a hard crispy layer on top that cuts your ankles when you are going on a run. When it's fresh it's almost impossible to ride a bike to work. When it's old, it gets fouled and turns into hard brown bunches. Slick ice hides right next to the whitest pile of snow and dogs love to pee in the stuff (that may be more on the dogs than the snow).

The only time when snow is acceptable is in that first 12 hours after snowfall starts - when, you don't have to be anywhere and you can just watch the world change into it's alternative self for a while. Then, I'll give it to you, snow is beautiful and ethereal. It changes everything from the hard and dark of winter to a soft and white otherness. It quiets the sounds and gives the world cold clean scent. The smell of snow.

I guess maybe i need to stop taking such a hardlined stance against snow when it comes up in conversation. The people here are easily entranced. When it snows nearly an inch they are excited, scraping together snow leavings in order to make muddy, brown "snow"men. They gasp at the magical effects and maybe they're right. The snow rarely lasts longer than the 12 magical hours that my patience allows anyways. But, I am still not in love. Give me falling leaves and burnished autumn colors any day and I will be happier than any amount of snow and hot coco can make me.

USPS

I've always been a big supporter of the United States Postal Service, as we all should be.

From starting off as the Pony Express, to it's, likely, near end as a slightly more affordable mail service than it's competitors. The USPS has always been the postal delivery service for me. To be fair, I wasn't around during the heyday of the Pony Express. However, I imagine it to have been quite an invigorating event to have mail arrive for you by the hands of a horse riding and (most likely) handsome traveler. 

The USPS never forces you to travel a minimum of 30 mins to get a package that they refused to deliver to you because your doorbell doesn't work. They always have keys to your apartment building where they can leave you packages in the relative safety of your apartment hallway. The USPS has a federal law against other people opening things for you (Can UPS say that? Can Fed Ex say that?). The USPS has specialty stamps and  a generally predictable arrival time. 

If you ask me the Unites States Postal Service is worth saving. So, send more letters. Send some postcards. If you're not sure who to send them to, send them to me. I promise to do the same. As a wise woman once said to me, "Sending people mail is a really cheap way to make them happy". Keep that in mind when you're grumbling about the tiny price increase. And stick with it. 

The USPS didn't fail you when you had a pen pall in the 4th grade. You failed yourself when your forgot to send that pen pall mail. Don't take it out on the innocent. Send me mail.

All the best,

Rachel