it's skyline time, or, CARSON! CARSON! CARSON! CARSON! GET DOWN.

Yes, we are still in Ohio. Yesterday Cliff called, worried about ice storms in the Midwest, and frankly I didn't feel up to a thirteen hour drive this morning, especially since we spent the night drinking in a hotel room with the WV crowd. So instead it's Sunday night and we are sitting at my cousin's house while his wife asks us with what sauce we want our pork loin basted. Hells yeah.

This trip has included a surprising amount of pork. It's also been pretty fun, but I can tell it's time for me to end my two-week travel extravanganza. I'm tired of living out of a suitcase, I've grooved a sizable ass trough into both front seats of the Camry, and Truman, his delicate constitution upset from all the traveling, has only recently ended a three-day hunger strike. So yes, we are hitting the road tomorrow. When we arrive at the front steps, stinking of car and Wendy's, please let us in. The route's going to be a long one:

Gr-reat. I will say, however, that the B is a wonderful traveling companion. He suffers through my fake-braking and radio Nazism and all he asks in return is Mountain Dew.

Since I've received a surprising number of calls from people asking me what I've been up to, I'll post a big blog o' photos for you. If you were to combine this blog post with the the more recent blog posts, then you would have the entire trip, basically, in photo form. Imagine me sitting in the green chair telling you the following:



Housch the dog, part one of two dogs that live in my cousin's somewhat small house. Housch is the good one. As I type this, he's peeing on the floor, but usually he is the good one.

Carson, dog two of two. Carson is rather large and excitable. He enjoys face-humping Truman. It's really all he's done since we got here. Oh, and he ran away once.

Are the dogs really named for Bengals, you ask. YES. WE ARE IN CINCINNATI.

Here's the dogs all together. Note that Carson is being scolded and Housch is sniffing Truman's ass. It's been four days of this.

OH YES IT WAS.

I ordered four. Count them, four. And a large diet Coke. You know, because I'm watching my girlish figure.

Merry Christmas! It's January! Smother four little hot dogs in special recipe Greek chili and top with onions and mustard and enough cheese to repulse Sally Struthers!

Pitchers and pitchers of sweet light beer. Because... you know. The figure-watching.



Downtown Cincy, as my camera found it.

Professional photo of downtown. Can you see the racial tensions simmering just below the surface?

 

The B finds salvation.

*

Thanks for all the karma, by the way. I don't know if I'll be gainfully employed this time next year, but it's nice to know something went somewhere and got some positive response.

For a MFAer, as you know, sometimes that's all we can hope for.