Corporate America Runaway

Photo: Buffalo lounging in the prairie grass

Click here to see all of the snapshots of our animal encounters, Mt. Rushmore, and hiking.

The signs were everywhere. In Pierre, along the interstate, near Rapid City, in small towns…the silhouette of a buffalo and some scripted writing with an arrow pointing the direction of “Dances with Wolves Filming Site”. I haven’t seen the movie for some time; however I do still remember the Indian name for buffalo, tatanka. It’s probably the only Indian word I know. It seems like the movie Dances With Wolves put South Dakota on the map.

On day two of my family vacation we unknowingly were on a South Dakota Safari. It seemed that our travels kept leading us into the path of wild animals, sometime on purpose, sometimes on accident. Luckily, we survived all of the encounters and so did the animals…yet I believe we probably equally scared each other!

We decided that we would explore the nations 2nd largest state park, Custer State Park. It’s nestled in the Black Hills of South Dakota on the western edge of the state. After traveling through the Midwest for a while, it’s always exciting the first time you start to see hills, they look like mountains and your eyes are relieved to get a glimpse of something that isn’t so flat and vast. That’s how I felt when I entered Custer State Park, relieved to know that there is something else other than wheat fields and hay bails as far as the eye can see. My dad navigated the scenic Needles highway through a multitude of curves and turns; I thought about how I’d rather be the driver than the passenger in this situation while wondering what needles had to do with hairpin curves. We came out of the woods and I had my answer, the needles were the rock formations that loomed in front of us jutting up out of the forested hills. We pulled over so that I could take some photos and get some fresh air before car sickness took hold!

As we were walking around the rocky area I heard a weird noise and saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I looked left in the direction of the UMO (Unidentified Moving Object) and I was surprised to see a large white mountain goat jump onto a huge rock about 15 feet above where my dad was standing. I grabbed my camera and started shooting as it continued to jump and make its way down the rocky cliff face and onto the road. As it reached the road, it ran right towards my dad and stopped about 5 ft. from him. The goat looked at him for a few seconds, and then ran around him. I honestly thought that my dad was going to get rammed, but they must have had some sort of meeting of the minds deciding that they were friends and not foes; not to mention too stubborn to move.

After our close encounter butting heads, we went on towards Mt. Rushmore to view the famous heads. This was my main goal in coming to western South Dakota; to get a dose of the ultimate monument in American pride. It’s the one monument that will last longer than any other thanks to it natural, sturdy construction. There is no entry fee for the monument, which makes it my kind of tourist attraction; budget friendly! However, parking was $10 and there’s really no getting around that unless you arrive by bus. I share a birthday with one of the rock heads, but even that didn’t get us free parking.

Mt. Rushmore was pretty much what I expected, impressive and very patriotic. The museum/visitor center was full of footage of the construction as well as history of the famous presidents. As I read the historical information and presidential quotes, it reminded me of just how unique this country is. For all of my disgust with it at times, I have to admit, it is a pretty amazing place with a strong cultural personality; unlike any other country I’ve ever been to.

The remainder of the day we traveled by many more Dances With Wolves signs through the town of Deadwood and winding through Spearfish Canyon. We even made it to Wyoming where the rocky hills oozed out into a vast rolling ‘big country’ of hills and open spaces. This is where we had yet another animal encounter, with Bambi. Bambi was in the middle of the road and we were hurdling towards it trying to quickly decipher which way Bambi was going to turn. Odds were that Bambi would turn; Deer never stand still when you want them to. We slammed on the breaks and veered to Bambi’s right the exact direction which Bambi decided to go of course. I braced myself and cringed knowing that we weren’t going to be the ones hurt in this situation…the Honda outweighed Bambi. I watched out the front window as the little white tail was going to be swallowed by our car, but by some miracle of good brakes, we ended up simply tapping it and saw that it was able to run off and up the hill without any noticeable limp. All was fine in the enchanted forest, but it was one very close encounter…I mean call.

The next day I was ready to see tatanka – not just on a sign announcing Dances with Wolves, but the real thing. Custer Park has herds of buffalo roaming the park in the prairie areas. We took off early in the morning and I strapped all of my cameras around my neck in the hopes of maybe seeing a buffalo. Sure, I had seen the buffalo in Golden Gate Park before, but they are fenced in and not as ‘convincing’ as seeing a large herd out in the grasslands of South Dakota…the motherland of tatanka. We wound along the park road eyes peeled for anything brown that moved. A car in front of us had pulled over ahead, so I knew that there must be something worth stopping for. Sure enough, a huge male buffalo was slowly walking across the grassland! I got out of the car and used my zoom lens to capture it. After watching it lumber along I was pretty satisfied with our sighting – my goal was met. We continued on and went around the corner and to my surprise there was the rest of the herd – about 100 of them roaming freely.
Click to enlarge my bufalo sighting - from one to many!

All of a sudden I was transported back to Kenya on safari. I felt like I was really on an adventure…right here in my home country. I hung out the window shooting the herd on both sides of the road. They were slowly on the move and we, along with a long backup of other cars, were in their way. I’ve never seen anything like it before, we were literally caught up in rush hour traffic, but the traffic had hoofs and was larger than most sedan size cars. This was a test of patience as we sat there for at least 30 minutes stopped or inching along as the herd slowly moved through the road calling/snorting to one another. As I hung out the window taking photos, I couldn’t help but laugh and recall how much this reminded me of India. My parents were getting a bit impatient about the whole buffalo jam, and I just channeled my ‘travel patience’ which I acquired last year around the world and really enjoyed the crazy moment. The buffalo were surrounding out car, walking by so close that I could reach out and touch them…but decided against it as a 2,000 lb buffalo was a bit intimidating to me!

Click to enlarge photos of the traffic jam!

The close encounters of the hoofed kind were exhilarating, and a bit dangerous. Luckily no person, animal, or car was harmed on any of these encounters! The buffalo traffic was by far my favorite experience of the whole trip to the edge of South Dakota. It made me realize how much I have missed traveling and crazy adventures that are truly out of the ordinary; experiences which aren’t contrived and scripted like most of our tourist attractions. I think I’m about ready to leave again…which is good considering I have a one way ticket out of the country on August 26th.

Photo: I couldn’t resist this shot! Maybe I am still 11 yrs old…

Que the song “Holiday Road”, load up the family truckster, and head to Wally World.

For all snapshots of South Dakota - Bad Lands and Wall Drug click here!

I recently watched National Lampoon’s Vacation again. It had been years since I had seen the Griswalds take off for Wally World, still a classic movie that strikes a chord with me thanks to some similar family vacations I took when I was a kid. Our family car was a little 1978 Honda Civic Hatchback; after all there was a gas crisis back then. Sound familiar? We would all squeeze into that car (with my brother sister and I in the cramped back seat fighting constantly), pack in plastic bags (because they were more mold-able in the hatchback), a cooler full of soda and tuna salad sandwiches and take off for some midwestern location about 800 miles away.

Photo: 1978 Honda Civic - yes, 5 of us fit in there…
This week, I find myself reliving this scenario minus my brother and sister. Since I’m in the Midwest during my ‘Summer of Homelessness’, I decided that I might as well get out and see some of the sights that I missed in my childhood. My parents were up for this adventure, so we set our sites on Mt. Rushmore. What could be more American than stone Presidents on land that we stole/took back from the Native Americans!? It’s not Wally World, but Western South Dakota would have to do.

My parents have upgraded to a 4 door Honda Accord now, but my mom still packed a cooler full of drinks and tuna salad sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. Yes – it’s a bit strange to be 38 yrs old and back on a family vacation; I feel like I’m 11 again. It’s all a bit confusing for my brain. As I traveled with my parents it made me realize just how many of my neurosis came from them! Actually, it helps me understand how I have come to see the world and why. Like it or not, we are a product of our parents and how we were raised. I’m not complaining at all, it’s just that when you spend a lot of time with your parents as an adult – you can’t help but need some therapy.

I quickly learned that South Dakota is pretty much like Nebraska…flat…very flat. I also learned that the state domestic product must be hay…because it was everywhere. I never knew it came in so many forms…hay bails, hay bail rolls, hay stacks, hay bail roll stacks…the list goes on. These various forms of hay dotted the flat countryside of South Dakota like sheep in New Zealand. I’m willing to bet that there are more hay formations than people in South Dakota. My dad, being an ex-farmer, was rather helpful in educating me on all of the nuances of hay such as why we need it, what animals eat it, rolls vs. stacks, what its shelf life is, Hay vs. Alfalfa bails, etc. If any of you want to know this info, send me a comment and I’m happy to share. This was the first 4 hours of our 500 mile journey to the west. Pretty similar to my childhood memories.

My next education took place in the capital of South Dakota – Pierre. Here’s a surprise, Pierre South Dakota is not French. Nope, that’s right – don’t get fooled by that French looking name. It is not pronounced pee-air nor do people wear berets there. Instead it’s pronounced like the word beer…’peer’. It took me a while to get used to not correcting people, but their confused look made me realize that I was the stupid one. Another thing that Pierre is not…big. With a population of aprox. 13,000, it’s a very small place for a state capital. In fact – I was positive it was the smallest state capital – until I googled it and realized that once again I know very little about my own country; Montpelier, Vermont is the smallest at aprox. 8500.

Wall Drug Sign - click to enlarge
After a few more hours of driving, another tuna salad sandwich and generic diet coke, I started seeing signs for the famous Wall Drug Store in Wall South Dakota. What’s that, you’ve never heard of the famous Wall Drug Store…neither had I. I will save you a trip to Wikipedia and give you the short history.

During the Depression in the 1930’s, Wall Drug Store was saved from bankruptcy by offering free ice water to the traveling public, advertising this via hundreds of signs along the highways. It has now grown into the largest, most publicized drug store in the world.

Photo: My dad holding his free ice water compliments of Wall Drug
Trust me – there was no possible way to miss Wall Drug. There was a sign for it about every mile and as you got closer – it went to about every ¼ mile. The signs advertised ice water, homemade donuts, 5 cent coffee, cowboy boots, and ice cream. They even advertised free donuts for newlyweds. I waited a long time to see a sign that said “Free ice cream for single women in their 30’s”…no luck. Regardless, the signs worked and we turned off the exit for some free ice water…and some of the best butterscotch ice cream I’ve ever had! The whole town of Wall South Dakota is pretty much the drug store. Busloads of visitors stop there each day; they get 20,000 visitors a day in the summer. See what I mean, it’s impossible not to stop.

After Wall, we drove through the Bad Lands National Park. It reminded me of the Painted Dessert in Arizona that I saw recently on my cross country road trip. It seemed so out of place in South Dakota. Who knew that South Dakota had this amazing land formation that simply rose out of the flat prairie? It was stunning.

Photo: Bad Lands Stripes
After 530 miles, about 5000 hay bails, 4 tuna sandwiches, and 3 ice waters, we made it to our destination, the Black Hills of South Dakota. We pulled a few beers out of the stocked cooler and celebrated. At least on this family vacation, I am old enough to have a beer! I really have no idea how I coped with family vacations before alcohol could be consumed.

Day 1 of my family vacation was quite educational. Sure, there were some times when I wanted to run out of the car screaming, but if now as a grown adult you spent 530 miles in the car with your parents I’m sure you’d want to do the same. All I can say is that even though I found myself on a family vacation again at age 38, it made me how realize how happy I am that I’m not 11 any longer!

Photo: Walker Art Museum - Minneapolis

I grew up in the country, however I never really considered myself a ‘country girl’. Instead, I always dreamed of the big cities; that’s where I knew I belonged. The past month I have spent time in the small towns of the midwest living a ‘country’ life. It’s quiet, scenic, and every morning I wake up to cool breezes and birds singing - it’s perfect. Yet this week I reached my breaking point. All of this fresh air and scenic solitude finally got to me. Actually, I think the final straw might have been kids arguing with each other about why they were being treated unfairly yet again.

I realized that I missed my city life a bit, but what I really missed was my solitude. I have lived alone since I was 27, no roommates, no one to be loud unless I decided to play my music loudly, or have friends over. Four weeks of living with others (not just others…but kids) in the solitude of the countryside finally made me reach my breaking point and reach for the mini-van keys. I needed an afternoon off from people and I needed some culture other than the Disney Channel.

I put on my one and only nice outfit, and pointed the mini-van towards Minneapolis…alone. I decided that I would visit a site in Minneapolis that I had never been to before. After living 4 1/2 years in Minneapolis I had never visited the Walker Modern Art Museum. As an modern art enthusiast, I knew that the Walker was the artistic hub of the city; famous for it’s sculpture garden with the backdrop of downtown Minneapolis.

The building itself was a lovely piece of architecture to view. Inside of the galleries the building was stark, and full of texture and angles - one of my favorite things to photograph. I soaked up all of the silence and slowly wandered through the galleries enjoying the thought provoking art.

It was a picture perfect summer day in Minneapolis and so I went for a walk in the sculpture garden. As you are all watching the oh-so-exciting Republican convention held in Minneapolis, you will most certainly see the famous cherry…ahem…sculpture in the Walker Sculpture Garden. The sculpture entitled Spoonbridge and Cherry by Claes Oldenburg is one of my favorite images of Minneapolis. I decided to examine it from all photographic angles for some fun.

Click images to enlarge:

I ended my outing by walking to the Uptown area to see some old friends. As I walked through my old neighborhood in Mineapolis, memories of my time there came flooding back; men I had dated, bars I had partied at, restaurants I frequented. It left me pondering the concept of ‘back then would have I ever thought that my life would have went in this direction; that I would live in San Francisco, New York City, travel around the world, and eventually live in Vietnam. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that back then…I didn’t even have a passport then! I finished my field trip by meeting some old friends and catching up over a glass of wine and asian food. A perfect escape from the lake; some art, some photography, some friends, and lots of memories.

I’m doing a different type of travel these last few weeks. I’m traveling to catch up. Catch up to what you may ask; friends. This summer is about enjoying the cool summers of the northern US, fighting off mosquitoes, and having reunions with old friends. I’m staying with my sister and her kids at a lake cabin near Minneapolis and taking this opportunity to reconnect with my old colleagues and friends; after all, I spent 4 ½ years living in Minneapolis back in my 20’s. This journey through time has really made me think about the choices I have made in my past, as well as the choices I have made for my future. It has also made me think about motherhood since most of the friends that I’ve reconnected with are now mothers of multiple kids at various ages – a foreign concept to me.

When I was a little girl, I had an active imagination and generally figured out ways to entertain myself since my brother and sister were older and I was considered an annoyance. I loved playing house. I loved pretending I had kids to take care of, to cook for, to clean up after, and to tell people what to do. Then I graduated on to Barbies where I had a whole imaginary life of families, homes, relationships, and picking the right outfit to wear for the right fictitious occasion. Then I moved on to playing ‘work’. I would play at my dad’s old desk, make a rol-a-dex from scratch and pretend that I had important meetings to attend, people to see, people to fire, things to staple, and reports to create. At that point, I don’t ever think I thought about playing house again.

However the last few weeks have landed me back in my imaginary world of playing house. I’ve been surrounded by kids and families. I’ve been entertaining kids, cooking for kids, disciplining kids, teaching kids (mostly appropriate things)…and I generally have no idea what I’m doing. I am the youngest in my family, so I never really had any young kids or babies around me. Instead, I was too busy trying to be more grown up so that my sister and brother may be interested in playing with me or at least stop teasing me and beating me up! These last few weeks of being surrounded by kids and families has been fun, yet exhausting. It’s a bit reminiscent of being a middle manager in corporate America, so I’ve had to dust off my managing skills. Motherhood or Management – it’s all the same to me.

These last few weeks I’ve done things that are scarier and more challenging than climbing Kilimanjaro. I found myself driving a minivan full of kids to Wal-Mart to do the grocery shopping. My latest adventure was to take 4 girls to 3 different softball practices in different locations, cheer them on, yell at them to play nice, tell them to stop fighting with each other, and then going for pizza at the local pizza joint. It freaks me out to think that the strangers that look at me think that they are my kids…how can that be when I still feel like I’m 22 and I clearly don’t look like a mother…or do I? God help me. We’ll delve into that in another post when I have a drink within reach.

Photo: Drained lake Delton - all that is left is mud.
I even drove out to meet my best friend from high school, Audra. She lives in Milwaukee so we decided to meet halfway across Wisconsin. She brought her young kids (2 ½ yrs and 14 months) with her for the 2 hour drive, and they watched Dora the Explorer. I on the other hand drove 3 hours and listened to a gruesome book on tape about children soldiers in Sierra Leone in the 90’s. We were worlds apart. Our worlds intermingled in the heart of cheesy American resort towns – Wisconsin Dells. Some of you may have heard of the Dells recently in the news when rains of biblical proportions dumped so much water into Lake Delton that it literally burst its banks. Tens of thousands of gallons of lake water barreled through the woods, taking with it a roadway, several houses, boats, fish and lake bed. It emptied into the nearby Wisconsin River and was gone in hours. Definitely a site to see.

We met at the Copa Cabana Resort and water park so that the kids could be entertained between us trying to catch up on 4 years of not seeing each other. There was no Barry Manilow or Pina Coladas at the Copa Cabana….instead there were pirate ships and kiddy slides. I channeled my motherhood genes that had long ago shriveled up and dried out and played as if I were Captain Hook on the high seas in between talking to Audra about travel, New York, motherhood, her career, and diapers.

As I drove back to the other side of Wisconsin after lunch, I thought about just how challenging and hard motherhood is. I frequently have people tell me how brave I am for doing what I’m doing with my life and travels. But as I watch all of my friends as mothers, I am in awe. That is one challenge that I wouldn’t be able or have the desire to meet. I find it much easier to fly off to strange countries and new cities and try to integrate in foreign places as compared to changing diapers and raising kids. Sure, that makes me a bit unusual, but I’m ok with that. I much prefer being Aunt Sherry than “Mom, (insert name here)’s hitting me!!” Plus – if I were to be a mom, that would necessitate me actually having to find someone to date that I didn’t get annoyed by eventually…and that may just be impossible.

Photo: My 6 nieces - all together for the 4th of July
Thanks to all of my old friends who have come on out to see me – it’s been like a giant summer reunion for me. Sometimes it leaves me a bit baffled, wondering how in the world I have ended up on the small path that I am on and not on the interstate of motherhood and familydome. I guess I just figure that someone has to take the path less traveled.

Happy Birthday Mom!

I have a new article published on the Indie Travel Podcast. They have a bit more international audience, so this month I decided to write a piece about traveling to/in America and finding the unique Amercian culture here in this big land mass. Somewhat appropriate for the 4th of July I suppose!
You can find the article at
www.indietravelpodcast.com/article/coming-to-america/

Coming to America
In this article, Sherry Ott tells us why we should visit the small towns of America, and not just stick to the big cities.
Click on the link to read about it on The Indie Travel Podcast in the Articles section.
While you are there, check out other great travel tips on the Indie Travel Podcast website!

Photo: Cedar Lake, Wisconsin - the next stop on my Midwestern Family Tour

I have traveled to yet another middle America state. I’m currently in Wisconsin surrounded by beer, cheese and women. This sounds like a dream location if I was a guy…but I digress. On my summer Midwestern Family Tour (not to be confused with the Magical Mystery Tour - far from it!) I left South Dakota last week to go to Duluth Minnesota along Lake Superior. Duluth is kind of like stepping into Pittsburg but everyone has a weird Minnesota accent. Kind of a strange vortex of north meets east. I was in Duluth for one main reason…to see friends and family run in the Duluth Marathon. However, not only does Duluth put on a fabulous marathon, but a little known fact about Duluth is that it holds a special place in my heart since it is where I came up with my (former) cat’s name, Palucci. I will skip the details of that…but you can tuck that little piece of trivia away for use one day when I’m famous…ha.

Photo: Some of my family and friends in Duluth celebrating after the marathon - click to enlarge
The race was great – at least for the spectators. It was a bit warm for the runners. I even jumped in and carried my out-of-shape body along for 4 miles with a friend cheering him on between trying to get air to my lungs; hopefully distracting him from the 26.2 miles of pain that he was going through! My sister and brother-in-law also ran in the race, so it was quite the family affair. All survived and didn’t even lose a toe nail; a bonus when running marathons.

This was also the site of my ‘big switch’; the switch from my small town South Dakota life with my parents to my small town Wisconsin life with my sister. My sister and her family live in Singapore, but in the summer they come back to the US to stock up on western items, see family, be disgusted by large American-sized food portions, and enjoy summer vacation. They have a cabin on a lake in Wisconsin so it seemed like a great place to spend a few weeks helping my sister out with busing the kids around to various activities, doing laundry, and generally helping her keep sane while living with 3 girls on her own.

Once again, I found myself in a weird transition – from bustling New York, to slow and quiet South Dakota, to loud chaotic kids. Kids are like aliens to me, I’m around them so little that when I do get exposed to them it’s always a shock to my system. It takes me a few days to get back in my ’kid’ mode. I am now officially up to date on who the teen idols are, who Hanna Montana/Miley Cyrus is (I was always confused about this double identity thing), I’m up to date on my Seventeen Magazine reading, and I have become reacquainted with the word “dude”. I think I’m about up to date on being a cool Aunt again.

Photo: Lake Cabin - my new home for a few weeks
Currently the cabin is full of 6 women (my sister, 3 nieces, a family friend, and myself). Add to that the 2 other young girls having a sleep over – and we are up to our eyeballs in estrogen (and there is one bathroom). This is quite an adjustment from my ‘normal’ NYC life of hanging out with gay men…then again…maybe not. This new kid/female lifestyle I have wandered into isn’t super travel centered, but it does provide me some great time with family before I head off to Vietnam. So I will soak up every moment I can and wash it down with a few Wisconsin beers and cheese curds in order to make it through the chaotic day!

Photo: Main Street Twin Brooks, South Dakota…bustling.

When I told my parents that I was coming to stay with them for a month, they seemed excited. Maybe it’s because then they don’t have to talk to each other as much…or maybe I just provide entertainment, who knows. However my mother was particulary excited and started filling up her calendar with things that we could do in and around their small town community. The standard lunches were booked, church clubs, visiting with neighbors, but one of the items on the calendar stuck out. June 15th - Male Revue at Ol’ Gunslinger in Twin Brooks. Yes, that’s right – my mom had booked my calendar with a male strip show…on Father’s Day.

Photo: My mom with tickets and singles in hand.
Granted, I did willingly agree to go, but from a journalistic point of view. The chance to see a traveling male strip show coming to a small town with a population of less than 50 people – how could I pass that up as a blogger. I knew my blogging audience would be interested in Midwestern America – and this was definitely a side of it worth sharing! Seriously – you all would have done the same. When my mom asked me if I was interested – I said “of course!” I told her that if I wanted to see men in underwear, I could just go to a gay club in NYC and watch them dance for free, but this opportunity provided much more than scantily clad men. I wanted to see the women from rural America that were going to this show. Plus, I wanted to see the men that were traveling the rural cities performing…I was intrigued to say the least. I personally think that my mother had come to grips with the fact that I wasn’t going to provide her with a wedding and a son-in-law, so this was her way of getting to go to the bachelorette party that she’d never normally get to do.

On the day of the big ‘show’, my dad and I went for a drive in the country to do some photography. Plus, it was Father’s Day and it was a nice way to spend some time with my dad looking at cows. Yes, I know, many of you went to brunch with your dad…I went to go look at cows…not glamorous, but fun in its own way. We decided to drive through the town of Twin Brooks where the big ‘show’ was that evening. I had never been to Twin Brooks, so I wanted to get a good look at it by day so I could get a feel for the place. I was utterly stunned when I saw it. I’ve been to small towns before…but this place took the cake. Photo: Ol’ Gunslinger in Twin Brooks. Twin Brooks was flanked by railroad tracks that ran through the town and consisted of a post office (that also doubled as the town restaurant), a church that was closing it’s doors forever that afternoon after it’s service, and a bar…the Ol’ Gunslinger. I’m serious…that was it. They had a road called Main street which the post office and Ol’ Gunslinger were located on – it was gravel. In fact, all of the roads in Twin Brooks were gravel. I thought to myself - what traveling ‘revue’ show in their right mind would come here to perform?!

After our more traditional Father’s Day dinner, we cleaned up and my mom and I put on our Manolos and headed out to Twin Brooks. I was hoping it may be a bit livelier at night than what I saw that afternoon. I was also hoping that the permanent closing of the church had nothing to do with the male revue! We armed ourselves with 1 dollar bills, waved goodbye to my dad, and pointed the car towards hedonism.

A sign outside the Gunslinger warned us that it was Ladies Only. I’m sure all of the men in the town were rather disappointed that we had taken over their one and only watering hole, but they weren’t my concern…I was here to see flesh! We walked inside the dimly lit bar and I immediately knew that I wasn’t in NYC any longer. The walls were lined with animal heads…big ones. Neon Bud Light signs were placed between the antelers of Bambi and the juke box was blaring Achy Brakey Heart.

I swear to you that I’m not embellishing.

With our $15 tickets came a free drink – so I decided to forgo what everyone else seemed to be drinking (Bud Light bottles) and provide some class to the place – we went for the good liquor. There were 3 long tables arranged in a horse shoe with a backdrop for the ‘stage’ at the open end of the horseshoe. There were more colored lights than a middle school dance. We looked around in a bit of amazement – not due to the décor, but because we were two of 10 people in the bar. This was going to be a long night. We sat down and surveyed the ‘crowd’. My mom said, “ There are 3 gray haired women, 1 pregnant woman, and 4 fat women.” I was hoping she wasn’t including me in the fat count. It was a rather sorry crew – but we were a part of it – so we really couldn’t judge. My mom was one of the three gray haired women. The other two sat across the horseshoe from us sipping White Zinfandel. I was intrigued with them. Pretty soon a platter of jello shots were passed around. Apparently in addition to one free drink, we also got free jello shots. What exactly were they preparing us for?

Photos of the inside…click to enlarge:

Now I’ve made my share of jello shots. Those of you who have attended my parties are very familiar with my jello themes. However, these were hands down the strongest jello shots I had ever had. One more of those and I was going to get up and strip. Two more women showed up with gave us a whopping total of 14 in the crowd including us – the show was ready to start. I wondered just how desperate these men were who were coming out to strip for 14 women in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure there is a reality show pilot somewhere in this.

There were 3 men and none of them had mullets, thank God. In fact – they were all pretty decent looking. My expectations were already exceeded on their looks – or maybe it was the jello taking hold. They were all big muscle men; they clearly spend hours in the gym. The question was – could they dance…and were they straight? One was really young…looked like they pulled him right off the farm in Iowa, another was older and also served as the MC, and the third was a black guy that they called…take a deep breath…Hot Chocolate.

I swear to you that I’m not embellishing.

I was a bit hung up on the Hot Chocolate name – I wasn’t sure if I should laugh, be offended, or feel badly. Regardless, he was hot. The night was filled with some goofy dance routines, lighting snafus, tons of lap dances, more jello, crazy kama sutra positions (I should have been taking notes), and my mom and I screaming and laughing through it all. A great mother-daughter bonding moment over jello and dancing men. No, photos of the show were not allowed…sorry, no hot chocolate for you.

After the show, we went over and introduced ourselves to the other two gray haired ladies. We found out that my mom and they went to the same church; the joy of small town life. I liked those gray haired, Zinfindel drinking women. They were spunky in their sequin trimed jackets. They were brave and progressive. They were a model of what I wanted to be like when I get old. However, I think my mom impressed me most. After all, she knew how to do a jello shot. Did I mention that my mother is 72?

Photos: Me and my mom enjoying the free drinks and jello shots

The show was pretty much what I expected. For those of you who don’t know me personally – I don’t normally have very high expectations when it comes to men. But it was a great night out; fun to watch and be a part of a once in a lifetime opportunity. A slice of middle America; a far cry from Sex in the City…but just as entertaining.

Photo: South Dakota cows. If you are really in touch with Midwestern culture, you wil note that these aren’t dairy cows…

I’ve had one of those weeks…one where you leave the familiar and go to a foreign place where everything seems so different, amazing, and sometimes strange. You are exposed to new cultural traditions, values, and food. I love that feeling of watching in wonder at something you never expected to see – it’s exhilarating. So when the Dairy Queen of South Dakota, proudly displaying her crown atop her perfectly coifed blonde curls handed me a small carton of milk, I stared in amazement thinking, “what is this strange country?”

When you feel like a foreigner in your own country, it’s a disturbing feeling. Going from a 100 degree heat wave in bustling New York City where sweaty people crowd into the subway as if they are your new love interest, to the cows roaming the wide open prairies of South Dakota; it’s a huge shock to the system. I’ve been in culture shock now for a few days.

The free milk went along with a free cheeseburger. Apparently June is Dairy Month – did you know that? In NYC you are aware of black history month, women’s history month, breast cancer month, Aids awareness month, Native American month, pride week and administrative assistant day…but I can safely say that I had no idea there even was a dairy month. In small town Midwest, they actually give out free dairy products throughout the month! There’s nothing free in NYC, so I was in awe of this concept. To top off the free cheeseburger, chips, and carton of milk – you also were served a rootbeer float. They set up picnic tables by the lake in Milbank, my parents closest and largest town, and the whole town shows up to eat for free. Everyone knows each other and they actually look each other in the eye and ‘visit’. A foreign concept to New Yorkers.

I stopped at the grocery store yesterday where I was equally amazed at the prices and the selection. The prices were half of what I was used to paying in the city, and the selection was also half of what I was used to in the city. I mean really, are fresh mint leaves considered an exotic herb? I didn’t think so, but ask the grocer in Milbank and you’ll get a blank stare. I went down the ‘ethnic’ food aisle to look for Asian ingredients for pad thai; I could only find La Choy Chow Mein….a specialty of many Midwestern cooks. I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to give up fresh mint leaves and the ingredients for Pad Thai, but in some ways it does sound better than being pushed around in a over capacity fire safety risk at Fairway Market on the Upper West Side. That’s a toss up.

Do you know how hard it is to not lock your car door when you’ve been conditioned to lock everything – even your ipod to your handbag in case someone will steal it on the subway. Here in small town Midwest, no locking is necessary. Heck – the keys stay in the car and we even leave the windows down…why not go all the way?!

Photo: My parents house in South Dakota
My first few days back in the middle of the country have been full of contemplating my origins, my present, and my future. I’ve kind of been in a mental funk taking all of this Midwestern-ness in. This is what I grew up with, but having been gone from it now for so long, it feels foreign to me. Sure, I love New York City and San Francisco, but there’s something equally beautiful about watching a huge storm roll across the prairie. You can see it approaching for miles – even the smell of it is familiar to me. In the land-locked Mid-west, the tall grasses in the pastures blow in the wind like waves on the ocean. These days have been about adjustment, and catching up on sleep; beautiful, fitful sleep without garbage trucks waking me up. It’s nice to get back to your roots, but I don’t think I could ever give up the bustle of the city.

I wonder what free food month July is? I’m keeping my fingers crossed for chocolate month!

If you are sitting at your desk, stealing away a few minutes of sanity from meetings, your 4th cup of coffee, emails, the blackberry, and deadlines – then read on…

A few years ago when I started researching my career break, I quickly realized that for a corporate American – I was exploring new territory. There were very few books or websites that addressed how to plan and take a career break. Sure, there were that covered the topic, but they were all written from a British perspective. Now I don’t have anything against a British perspective, in fact I find it rather humorous normally – but the British and American take on careers are different. Brits travel – they use their vacation, they take long trips, their careers aren’t thrown into jeopardy if they take a year off. Americans – well, we don’t have those luxuries..or do we?

When taking a year+ off and traveling long term, I struggled with finding others like me from my culture. I struggled with simply planning the endeavor of long term travel. Yet at the same time, I heard from so many people through my blog that wanted/hoped to do the same type of thing I was doing. They were longing for a career break and had many questions on how to make it happen.

I always believe that life provides the path if you just open your eyes and are open to it. When I met two other Americans with similar backgrounds as mine that had also just completed a 3 month career break, the idea was born…Briefcase to Backpack – a website for corporate Americans who wanted to escape for a while.

My partners and I are working on putting this new travel website together and have a preview site up and running at www.briefcasetobackpack.com. It is a small look into what we intend to provide on Briefcase to Backpack in the future, a background on how it all came together, and a way for you to get on our mailing list to stay up to date on our progress.

I know many of you are contemplating a career break and wondering how to do it – then go check out www.briefcasetobackpack.com, sign up for our email, provide us some feedback on the idea, and save the url as a ‘favorite’! Briefcase to Backpack - the first stop on your escape from Corporate America!

Photo: Shutting the door on my 5 years at 74th and Columbus…

There’s something surreal about seeing your bed wheeled down the streets of NYC on a dolly. Really – a sobering situation.

There I was, walking down the street with friends after dinner seeing my life possessions being carted down the street – God…this isn’t happening…is it?

My friends have been amazing – and have benefited quite a lot from my liquidation of my life. Many of them have taken/borrowed furniture, art, and electronics. This is all great as is means that it’s less stuff to put into storage…however in another weird way it is terribly painful. I realized just how painful it was when I saw my mattress being wheeled down the street past the Museum of Natural History…which may be quite fitting for my mattress!

Photo: Me working my ‘home office’…what’s left of it.
Slowly – every day more is taken away…I’m left with a beach chair - my only piece of furniture to sit on, paper plates, and plastic silverware as I’ve sold all the rest.

Sure, it’s great to have the money from selling things…but it goes so fast. It’s strange thinking that your bed is the same value as a dinner and a nice bottle of wine in NYC.

I’d like to sit here and say that I liquidated my life with ease and confidence, that I was the model of composure; but I can’t lie. There have been a few tears shed about the loss of my possessions. As it gets closer to nothingness, more tears seem to come, but that is more about me wanting this whole process to be over – I’m just tired of it. I’m tired of living like this slowly watching things disappear and crumble around me. The rub is that as bad as it feels – it feel equally good and freeing. Sometimes I think that tears are necessary though…it’s a mourning process that we have to let our bodies go through….and mine has been working overtime.

Photo: My dear friends doing some ‘Sherry Shopping’ - at least I know it goes to a good home!

Seeing my bed on the street…well, that was a whole new level. I was already a bit apprehensive about selling my bed, seeing it on the street made it even harder. Your bed is precious. Just think for a moment…think about your bed….and then think about never sleeping in it again. But not because you are replacing it with a new fluffier bed, instead it is because you are choosing to give up normalcy. From this point forward for the next few years you will be sleeping in multiple beds - some good, some bad. But never the same bed for long; and it’s never YOUR bed. That is the challenge of traveling.

It’s weird to be going through this again – leaving again. I have this ‘here we go again’ feeling as I pack up my suitcase full of rolled clothes – my dresser on wheels. It’s easier since I know what to expect, but harder also because this time it’s for real….there’s nothing but friends and a small storage space in Manhattan to come back to.