Hanging Rock (in the rain)

Alex wanted to go camping for her bachelorette party, so last weekend, me, Sarah, Sara and Alex piled into Sara's Jeep and drove to Hanging Rock. Matthew (Alex's fiance) stayed behind to hang out with Pete, talk guns and play video games until 4 the next morning. :)
We stopped at Steak 'N' Shake on the way up and service was slow so we were back on the road a little later than we expected. Sarah started feeling sick (combo of curvy roads and a milkshake?), but it eventually passed. We got to our campsite and pitched a tent in the rain. Alex told Sara to bring her rain jacket, but didn't bring her own, so she probably got the wettest. (She said she didn't believe the forecast for 60% chance of rain.) Sarah turned a trash bag into a trendy, cap-sleeved tunic.

We had plans for s'mores, but couldn't build a fire in the rain, so we watched the big family across from us, cooking and laughing under a couple of tarps tied to trees. They were prepared. I told the group we should be friends with them so they would give us bacon in the morning. We ate the s'mores ingredients, had drinks and wore tiaras and glow bracelets instead. (We had way too much food, but then again, is that possible?) I also brought along a bride-to-be quiz for Alex, and of course her answers were entertaining.

Later, the four of us scrunched into a tent, talked and listened to the rain come down harder, hoping we wouldn't get wet. We didn't! Success! We did, however, get little sleep thanks to the loud rain and hard ground, but oh well.

The next morning, we hiked to a waterfall. It was so misty and the rain so frequent that we never actually saw Hanging Rock or went canoeing. Still, as the Sara(h)s put it, it was way more fun than it should have been.

Ashley Madison, a "guaranteed" affair

This is from my blog at work, posted earlier today.  

Fellow reporter, Jason, recently heard about a website, AshleyMadison.com, through a press release he received at work. The site has a banner boasting, “Life is short. Have an affair.” I felt sick to my stomach reading about it.

Ashley Madison is a dating site for married people. It guarantees a “successful” affair within three months of joining for the low price of $249. They promise no one will know, but have a refund policy just in case.

The company started in 2001 and has more than 6.5 million members across the U.S., Canada and the UK.

“In today’s world, life and relationships have become increasingly complicated and boring,” the site says.

It’s not that people don’t care about their partners, it says, just that they “want more” out of them. One woman says having an affair can send a “wake up call” to your partner so he or she will try harder to please you. That’ll teach ’em.

Really? I can think of another way, like communication. Happy relationships aren’t built on selfishness anyway; they aim to love and serve your partner unconditionally. Couples doing that won’t be bored and definitely won’t lose the spark.

But wait, the site isn’t a bad thing. It actually suggests that couples “seek counseling” if they have problems. How thoughtful.

In the FAQ section, it says, “Ashley Madison does not encourage anyone to stray or have an affair, despite our trademark, ‘Life is short, have an affair.’”

I laughed out loud. “Despite what we say, that’s not what we think.”

Ashley Madison claims its role is to “keep clients from taking unnecessary risks and being subject to exposure while they explore the feelings that got them to various websites related to cheating.”

Why get in trouble when you can pay $250 for a discreet cheat? The site wants to make a client’s experience “a positive one” and says it doesn’t make a person more likely to cheat any more than “increasing the availability of glassware contributes to alcoholism.”

Yet, members are required to correspond with other members a certain number of times each month and must provide profile pictures for the first three months of their membership since people with photos are more likely to be contacted.

The president of Ashley Madison, Noel Biderman, says his site will “increase the likelihood of a successful affair.”

What I don’t get is why people think this type of thing will make them happy, that it’s the answer to a dull marriage. Yes, let’s break the marriage covenant by cheating on our spouses, and everything will be better, life is fulfilling again.

How do people stoop so low to disrespect, dishonor and humiliate their lifelong partners, whether they know about the affair or not? And for what — some temporary, self-centered pleasure on the side?

Why not go away for the weekend and leave the kids with a relative? Cook Thai together and laugh when you mess up? Analyze a stupid movie? Take dance lessons? Fly kites and pretend you’re 10 again?

The same day Jason told me about Ashley Madison, I was listening to the radio on the way to work. The hosts were talking about cheating and brought up one guy who told his wife about dinner with his female co-worker so she wouldn’t suspect him cheating, even though he was.

How dumb, one host said; why not hide it?

I’ve got a better idea: Why not cheat in the first place?

Jason is a single guy with a girlfriend, and I’ve been married for three months. We shook our heads at the site and briefly contemplated not even posting this blog in case we encourage potential Ashley Madison members.

How sad that we even have to think that way, and how disappointing and shameful that so many people think this is OK. The site can guarantee nothing but broken relationships and unhappiness. No affair is a success.

Road trip to MN

Eight states in 24 hours.

Pete and I spent the weekend driving to and from MN for his brother's wedding.

“You drove?!” everyone said when we got there.

Sure did, and saved a few hundred bucks, too. :) From decorating for the groom’s dinner, photos and the actual wedding to packing two cars with gifts and attending the gift opening, it was a whirlwind and I wasn't even the one in white this time. Exhausting and a ton of fun. Plus, I got free fake flowers to bring home.


TRIP UP
Leave 8 p.m. Wednesday, short pit stop in Charlotte.

Hour 1 (9 p.m.): Pete’s idea of a planned route is a sheet of paper with a city name pointing to the next city name. I’m pro-GPS for this trip.

Hour 2 (10 p.m.): Full of Arby’s. Pete discovers it’s hard to dip fries in honey mustard while driving. Listening to “This American Life” podcast and playing with gadgets in rental car. Pete accidentally calls someone when he connects his phone to the car’s Bluetooth device.

Hour 6 (2 a.m.): First stop for gas in Ohio, just over the West Virginia border. Feels good to stand. I’ve been sleeping since the last update. My turn to drive!

Hour 7 (3:30 a.m.): Loving cruise control. Why can’t my ’93 Corolla have this? Lots of fog and signs for deer, not a good combo.

Hour 9 (5 a.m.): Passing Cincinnati on our way to Indiana. When does the sun rise anyway?

Hour 10 (6 a.m.): Pit stop in Indiana. Lots of farms along the highway. Getting the munchies.

Hour 14 (9:30 a.m., now an hour behind): Greetings from Peoria, Illinois! Just passed the Mark Twain Hotel and couldn’t get my camera in time to take a picture. Passed the Indianapolis Speedway earlier, but driving too fast then, too. Addicted to Chickadees, a Goldfish knockoff shaped like chicks.

Hour 15 (10:30 a.m.): Had an hour and a half of work to put in today, typed a couple of stories from the car. Finished just as I was feeling sick from looking down and reading.

Hour 17 (12:30 p.m.): Iowa = endless green corn fields. I’d like to run through one, but attempt pictures instead. Iowa also has the world’s largest truck stop off I-80. Lunch at the Homesteader Travel Plaza. Hour 20 (3:30 p.m.): Empty light on, gas stations 50 miles apart, minor panic. Fill up with 20 miles to spare. Pass a truck of piglets!

Hour 23 (6 p.m.): We’re he-ere!

TRIP BACK
Leave 6:30 p.m. Sunday

Hour 1 (7:30 p.m.): St. Olaf! True to my “Golden Girls” fan status, we stop for pictures at St. Olaf College. Rose Nyland would be proud. Hour 2 (8:30 p.m.): Analyzing a “Something Corporate” song and decide the singer is kind of whiney. Tempted to stop at 24-hour Amish market. About to cross the Mississippi into Wisconsin.

Hour 3 (9:30 p.m.): Break out the Gummi Bears. Establish that my favorite flavor is lemon. Pete is between grape and orange. Full moon!

Hour 5 (11:30 p.m.): Exhausted. What day is it again?

Hour 9 (3:30 a.m.): Got a nap in. Gas station guy said our rental car looks cool.

Hour 11 (6 a.m., back to NC time): Sunrise over Indianapolis. More country radio stations than I expected. Got a picture of the speedway this time!
Hour 15 (noon): Pete fixing his shoe in the car with super glue. Lots of road work signs, no road workers.

Hour 18 (3 p.m.): Virginia. Pete stressed about getting the rental car back in time. A couple of toll roads to pay for the road work not being done.

Hour 21 (6 p.m.): Home sweet home and on time to get the rental back. I need to run 10 miles after sitting all day, but I would do it all over again.

Mini adventure

Today after church, I told Pete that I needed to be out of the house for a while. The majority of my day at work is spent inside, so I need out on the weekends or I'll go crazy.

I suggested going to Landsford Canal State Park in South Carolina, about an hour away, and tired but supportive Pete agreed. I had never been before, but I was sure it would be fun.

Mental picture: A cool breeze blows our hair as we peacefully recline on a grassy embankment overlooking a gently lapping lake or bubbling brook. We chat about life and share trail mix.

Actual picture: We get lost a couple of times before getting out of the car to a muggy 91 degrees. It's so humid that my shirt sticks to my back within 10 minutes and my hair feels like a 15-pound mat on my head. We walk through a few spider webs as I tell Pete this isn't as enjoyable as I thought it would be, reach a "scenic overlook" 3/4 of a mile in where the flowers aren't in bloom, snap a couple of pictures and quickly walk back to the car because I'm a pansy and tired of sweating and shooing away small insects. It starts to rain, and the white chocolate chips in my trail mix melt in the trunk.

"Thanks for getting us out of the house today," Pete tells me on the way home. I give him a look, sigh and tell him he's awesome for coming along. I guess it wouldn't be much of an adventure if everything went as planned.

Thank youed out ... but grateful

I couldn't be more grateful for all the well wishes, gifts and money we got for the wedding -- it really does mean a lot to know so many people care, but I've worked on this second round of thank you notes for a couple of hours now and I've barely made a dent. Counting the first batch, I think I'm on card 72 or something with about 35 to go. I'm tempted to send a mass e-mail, but that's not personal and won't fly. I wonder if other people keep all of their cards like I do.

I guess I can't complain. A short note is the least we can do for the thought and time people put into their gifts. And I have to give kudos to Pete. He wants to help. :)

Alex is getting married in September, and I told her to put thank you cards on her registry. I was kidding, but I think she might have done it.

Vicious bunnies, Minnesota and Tennessee

So we found the culprit of my dying bamboo -- the bamboo I've had for about 6 years and just now decided to shrivel away. I tried to get a picture of him/her/it actually nibbling on it outside, but he/she/it ran away when I approached the bedroom window with my camera. Pete says there's still hope for the plant, but I have my doubts.

To go back in time a bit, I never wrote about the fabulous trip to MN earlier this month. We went so that Pete's family and friends who couldn't make it to the wedding could still get together, celebrate, chat, eat, see pictures, meet me if they hadn't already, etc. Karen (Pete's mom) put a lot of time and thought into it and it turned out perfect.
We later took my family to the Mall of America, where Dad and Emily posed with a massive Lego Woody from Toy Story. Emily and I rode a roller coaster that looks much more tame from the ground.After that, we headed to Pete's cabin, about 4 and a half hours north, with a pit-stop at Minnehaha Falls. The cabin is always so peaceful; we ate breakfast outside, went fishing, met the neighbors who have a few horses and took a spin in Nick's Mustang convertible. We also went to Itasca State Park, but it was raining and gross so we didn't stay long.
It's funny how it gets harder for me to leave MN every time I visit. I really enjoy myself when I'm there -- granted, I'm not working or stressed -- but it almost feels like my second home.

Fast forwarding to last weekend, we went to TN for Erin's wedding. Mom and Erin's mom have been friends since high school (or maybe middle), so Erin and I used to play together. It's really weird having my friends get married off, even though I'm in the same boat now. Next chapter, here we come! Oh, and it's really weird to see Seth and Austin with girlfriends now, although they giggle together more than the girls do.

We later went to Bays Mountain to walk around the lake.

"Joe-thin"

I never questioned whether I would change my last name when I got married — OK, unless his name was something really embarrassing or complicated like Butt or Schclongermeiyer, … but it’s been more of a hassle than the time I baby-sat for three wiry kids and had to make sure they all went to bed on time. Now everyone pronounces it wrong.

Step 1: Send the South Carolina probate court $5 to get a marriage certificate. Wait a few days and get it in the mail. This is a breeze.

Step 2: Drive to the Social Security office in Charlotte to apply for a new Social Security card. Wait in line for 15 minutes, watching one smiley employee chat with a lady in front of me. Hope I get the same lady until a frowny employee tells me I can meet her at station 8. Listen to her tell me twice that it’s a crime to give false information, I guess giving me a second chance in case I lied and said it was truthful the first time. It could be worse.

Step 3: Meanwhile, contact the post office, bank, student loan organization and every bill collector, insurance agent and doctor’s office I can think of to give personal details away over the phone or by fax in order to prove that I am, indeed, married. By the end, I’m asking, “Do you want my Social Security number, too?” (OK, not quite, but almost.)

Step 4: Send everyone in my work address book a message saying my name and e-mail have changed and get new business cards. People still e-mail my old one.

Step 5: Get an e-mail back from the College Foundation saying they can change my address but I have to call in to change my name. Call the number and get an automated recording. I press 1, 5, 8, #, 2 and 4 just to get to the right department, then find out the office is closed. Call back the next day, accidentally go back to the main menu twice, yell that I just want to talk to a real person, hear the machine tell me it didn’t understand my request, stay on hold for 20 minutes and give up. Call again the day after, listen to the hold music so long I know the tune by heart and finally get a real person. It takes 40 seconds to change my name.

Step 6: Get my new Social Security number and head to the DMV for a new license. Fill out three of those signature strips because I can’t get in the habit of writing my new last name. (The same thing happens with receipts.) Carry around a temporary license and explain to the airport people during a trip up north that the picture on my old one goes with the name on the new one.

Step 7: Wince every time someone pronounces my name wrong and calmly correct them. “Jah-thin?” No. “Jot-hen?” No. For the record, it’s “Joe-thin.” (I guess I’m the only one who thinks it’s pronounced just how it’s spelled.) I almost miss Lane, but even then, people thought it was “Lame” or “Laney.” My co-workers still don’t like that they can’t associate me with Lois Lane.

Step 8: Still don’t regret changing my name because it’s one more way to link myself to the better half. At least I didn’t have to worry about a hyphen. “Lame-Jahthin?” No.