Friday, November 06, 2009

Mighty Oat Straw Brew, ha ha

Get it? Brouhaha?

Anyway, it is only Day 4, no 5, ack! of NaNoWriMo and after a good start on Day 1, I'm already WAY behind, trembling behind a teetering wall of writer's blocks. Really, I think I'm still a bit timid of my story and just feeling the whole thing up too much- when basically I should just relax and let it flow. Quantity vs quality is the motto... While I work up the courage to do that, I thought I'd at least sit down and write something, anything, so why not procrastinate with a blog post?

Let's talk about tea. I've never in my life been a tea drinker. Probably because no one in my family drank a lot of tea? Oh wait, I do remember mom putting a big jug of sun tea out to brew on top of the cistern during childhood summers in Iowa. I guess Dad drank that, because I sure didn't. Yuck. Tea? Are you crazy, dirt water? My friend Chris always had iced tea in her fridge when I hung out over there, her mom's habit passed onto to her daughter? My next tea experience might be trying out hot tea at Szechwan Chinese Restaurant in Council Bluffs with Cathy, probably late 80s, after getting her hair permed and highlighted. It wasn't bad, but I drank it more for the novelty of it. After that I guess it shoots forward to meeting Stew and getting to know his mom, who drank "sweet tea." What the hell was that? Iced tea with a shit load of sugar in it. And he drank it too? Wait a minute, I got engaged to this guy? Sweet tea is definitely a southern thing and I soon learned that when traveling, you know you're in the south when sweet tea is on the drink menu alongside the ambiguous "coke" -oh, and when you start seeing Bojangles restaurants everywhere. By the way, are the Hardee's anywhere else in the world advertising/selling "Fried Bologna Biscuit Sandwiches"? I mean, really.

Needless to say, once married, I didn't keep a jug of sweet tea in the fridge for Stew. If he wanted it, he had to wait until he could order it at restaurants. And if not dining down south, if he asked nicely, I'd pass him 4 packets of Splenda. I'd never even considered brewing myself tea. Coffee please, straight up. And really my coffee habit didn't start until I was working full-time after college. The Germans and other Europeans in that office sure liked their coffee, several times a day. But that is another story. Like I was saying, me = not a tea drinker. Until about a month or so ago.

Late this summer I got an email from my fellow stay-at-home BFF in which she mentioned reading on the internet about "oatstraw tea and how it is supposed to be as relaxing as taking a Xanax." This piqued my interest. I've never taken Xanax, but don't tempt me. So hey, a tea? Really? Enter my friend google, who says, yep, look at all these links I can show you! To summarize, first I learned that the Latin name for oat straw is "Avena sativa" (well that is what they the called just plain oats). Wait, like the oats my dad usually grew a few acres of each year? That after the combine went through, eventually got baled and stacked in our barn? Yes, probably. Oat straw harvested as an "herb" is typically made up of the green stalks, leaves AND sometimes the grain itself is included.

Okay, so how does one make tea out of it, and why?

Starting with the WHY first, I'll list some of the nutrients found in oat straw: calcium; magnesium; B-complex vitamins; silicia; calcium; flavones; saponins; and Vitamin A. Never one to really know/care too much about nutrition stuff other than how to read a label, I let the internet inform me how the combo of all these was good for a person. First off, the calcium is pretty cool- about 300 mg per cup. That is a big bonus for those of us who only drink milk if it is brown or at the bottom of a cereal bowl. Next, and I suppose this is where the whole Xanax thing comes in, is that oat straw tea is a nervine, meaning that it "acts therapeutically upon the nerves, particularly in the sense of a sedative that serves to calm ruffled nerves." A few of the online articles even tout the tea as a libido enhancer and a boost to the immune system. Christ, can it do no wrong? Apparently not, as I haven't seen anything negative come up on it. It IS a diuretic, but so is beer.

One thing to keep in mind however, is that all these wonderful things don't happen instantaneously. Like, drink one steaming mug of it and then KAPOW! Strong bones! Calm nerves! Hot & horny! No, slow down partner. Almost all of the info I found said that it needs to be enjoyed regularly on a daily basis (one said 3 cups maximum, but another said as much as you wanted) and that it could take several weeks to reap the benefits, said to be long lasting.

Okay, so how do you make it? Well, after reading all those links, I also became an amateur expert on how one makes loose leaf tea, since most included a brief "how to" bit at the end. Which I will provide as well. With pictures!

First, where did I get it? Again the internet came through for me, and I ended up buying it online. One of the main reasons for this is that I wanted to use some of my PayPal virtual pocket money AND because really, when was I going to have time to go out looking for a hippie herbal store? They don't stock oat straw at WalMart people. So I ended up buying from an eBay store, "Our 4 Corners," which I selected because they had tons of good feedback, a huge selection of nicely priced bulk herbs and reasonable shipping/handling fees. I bought their 1 lb loose Oat Straw CUT/Sifted-Green-Organic. By the way, I went with loose variety because of the recipes I'd seen for preparing it. Plus there seemed to be only a few places that sold it in tea bags, and the price had been marked up a LOT.

I was pleasantly surprised when only 4 business days later, my bagged & boxed 1 lb bag arrived via Priority Mail, with Ames, Iowa listed as the return address! The eBay store "Our 4 Corners" is based out of Michigan, but apparently buys in bulk and sometimes ships directly from AmeriHerb Inc., based out of in Ames.

Upon opening the heavy duty blue bag, the scent that wafted out immediately brought back childhood memories of... well, here is how I described it when I tweeted later that day, "brewed Oat Straw tea for first time today; smelled like farmgirl hay chores; looked like the ruffage that fell out of our socks after."

My first attempt was to do a simple infusion by putting about 3 teaspoons of the herb in a mason jar and then pouring 8 oz of boiling water over it. I let it sit about 10 minutes and then strained it into another glass to drink. First impression was similar to what I'd seen someone else say online, that it had a "mild sweet grassy taste" or simply, it tasted like it looked, greenish brown. To my surprise, it didn't taste like the sips of nasty Lipton tea or super sweet stuff I'd reluctantly tried before. I actually liked the mild grassy taste. Plus, hey I knew it was good for me, so that might have helped. Or maybe after drinking coffee and wine my palate is no longer delicate, who knows.

That evening I was excited to get an overnight infusion started. After some rough calculations, I scooped a heaping cup (about 1 oz?) of the herb into a 1.5 liter sealable canister and filled it with boiling water. The next morning I strained it into a quart container and then poured myself another mug which I heated up for about 1 min in the microwave. I stored the quart container in the fridge for later. The color was darker than my first mug infusion, but it still tasted okay to me, maybe a bit more full flavored? The reheated tea was good, and yes somewhat calming... the comfort of it could almost pass as a substitute for my morning coffee. I'm still working on weaning myself off caffeine, so usually I'll have about one mug of coffee and now instead of pouring a second, I'll heat up some tea.

I started making it every night, and eventually one afternoon I tried it as "iced tea" which was good too, especially with a squirt of lemon juice in it. Further modifications I made were to my process... I'd been boiling the water in a sauce pan and straining with the same flat strainer tool I use when making Mac 'n Cheese. Enter a new teapot, a tea strainer, a 2 quart container, and now I was officially a tea drinker.

And wouldn't you know it, Stew started drinking it too, giving me shit about how we finally had tea in the fridge now. I didn't mind sharing, but started planning ahead. The overnight infusions usually lasted about a day. So with two of us drinking it, I started letting some sit out "infusing" during the day as well, i.e. making a double batch every other day or so. One pound at that kind of usage lasted about two weeks.

When it came time to reorder, we did some more calculations, figuring in the price of the bulk herb and the shipping/handling. The actual cost per cup was pretty cheap, like under 50¢! So when I made the next order, I bought 5 lb. I used "Our 4 Corners" again, but this time ordered through their direct web store. I had initially tried to contact AmeriHerb Inc. about ordering directly from them, but my call and email were not returned. I could have followed up, but decided I'd stick with "Our 4 Corners" who had answered two of my email questions fairly quickly and pleasantly. Our 5 lb arrived super fast, like within the same week, and so far has lasted two months, with 1 lb remaining.

I slacked off drinking it for a while, which one site even recommends you do, like take a 5 day break, but mine was more like an unintentional two weeks. Now looking back, it seems like once I slacked off I soon had trouble fighting off an onslaught of cold symptoms. This past week I started drinking it throughout the day again (it is especially nice to drink if you are stuffed up or have a scratchy cough), and I'm now finally starting to feel better. Maybe it really does boost your immune system.

So I heartily recommend trying it out. Is it like Xanax? Well, I wouldn't know, but yes I think it does sort of chill a person out and even if that is a placebo effect, I'll take it. And we'll keep the libido discoveries to ourselves, thank you. ;) Now I'm even thinking of ordering a pound of some other herb to mix in with it. I'm not sure which one yet, I need to do some more research. Any (legal) recommendations? Also I'm wondering what could be done with the leaves after the infusion. I suppose if we composted we could throw in with that.

FYI - This post, up to this point, contained 1717 words, which is about 100 more than the daily goal for NaNoWriMo. See, that wasn't that hard was it? Actually it was- I started writing this the night of the 4th, and had to sit down to work on it twice throughout the day on the 5th. Finally getting it pretty much completed after 1.5 hrs of mostly uninterrupted time, while Milo was napping and the older two were playing "fort." Then I had to make dinner, do dishes, referee homework and read stories... and now I'm finally ready to post, after close to another hour used of precious bedtime quiet. How do all you writers who also blog and/or have kids, do it?

PS - Since time and future posts may be slim, and really it isn't worth a post in itself, I want to share one other creative outlet I've been utilizing lately... here is a photo sampling of doodled napkins I've sent in Wiley's lunches so far this school year. Have a good day y'all, Happy Friday, and do your best!
PPS - That was over 2000 words total! Why again didn't I do NaBloPoMo instead?

Friday, October 09, 2009

Month of Miscellaneous Interests

Wow, another month flew by. Actually this whole year seems to have gone by pretty damn fast.

Let's see, what have I been doing since that last post?

Various things that I've considered posting but just never got around to. So how about some bullet points & pictures?
  • Drinking tea: After BFF Brenda email-mentioned that "oat straw tea" has been touted as nature's Xanax, I looked into it and ordered some online. I've never been much of a tea drinker, but have enjoyed this little experiment so far. A more informative "review & how to" type post is forthcoming, eventually.
  • Reading: Gabaldon's latest Jaime & Claire book came out on Sept. 22nd, and a couple months ago I'd made it a goal to reread the series. I zipped through the first 3 pretty quickly but got bogged down in the 4th (but eventually finished it) and completely hit a wall trying to get past the first couple chapters of the 5th. Plus I seemed to forget there was a 6th that came out in 2005, and upon that discovery, realized I have something like 2000 pages to read before I can start the new one. Might be a while though, because I seem to have moved out of my reading phase for the moment.
  • Doodling: I designed and submitted two more repeated fabric designs into Spoonflower's "Fabric of the Week" contest. They've started implementing themes now, which is more inspiring to me, as I sometimes need a prompt to start working on something. My "leaves" design was basically the only non-Hallmarky entry in their Halloween theme, and I think it ended up placing somewhere in the middle of the group. Thanks to those who voted.

    Next up was a "spoons & flowers" theme for which I emptied our kitchen drawers, photographed our spoons, and then played with them in Photoshop to make some funky "spoon flowers." This one had to make it through a semi-final round, in which it placed 9th out of 70 entries! It stayed a favorite in the finals, respectfully ending in 5th out of 16. I ordered a "fat quarter" of this one printed on quilting weight fabric and it came in the mail yesterday, so we'll see if I ever make anything with it. Still fun though, and thanks again to voters.

    The current week's theme is "numbers" and I did enter a design again, but I purposefully only gave myself a couple hours to design & submit, resulting in it being kind of rough draft and conceptual as an experiment. They aren't sharing the realtime voting results this week though, so I can't watch as it likely flounders amongst the cute scattered numeric font competition. Bummer. Stew says the next time I enter I should intentionally design something cutesy to see what happens, and I was like "you mean, sellout?" Ha ha. Differing tastes in design and "style" are interesting to me, so I'm not bothered too much that I haven't designed any winners... :) What is cooler to me is the fact that Spoonflower just made it possible to purchase fabric printed with other people's designs... so I've listed for sale my watches and spoon flowers and will probably offer more eventually. The 10% commission won't mean early retirement, but like selling vintage on etsy, it could happily add to the 'ole virtual pocketbook (PayPal).

  • Sewing/Mending: Spurred on by the necessity of sewing on Wiley's Cub Scout badges, I've since dug out a few things from the mending pile and holy shit, actually mended them. Possibly I'm entering a little "hand sewing" renaissance, and other than mending, might start a small patchwork type project that I can work on while we wait outside the school to pick up Wiley (about 40 minutes everyday).
  • Enjoying music: In the past month or so I've used up the iTunes gift certificates we'd bought off our cousin by downloading several albums and burned a few CDs to listen to in the car. My old brick of a First Generation iPod got unearthed recently and I've been using it to tune into a mix of both old and new stuff as a way to drown out the boys when they get rowdy during the witching hours.

    As my Aunt-inlaw Linda wisely advises, with boys at play, the best thing is to just let them work things out and to only be concerned when someone comes up to you bleeding. The only way I'm capable of doing that is by zoning out in my own little world, which really isn't all that hard for me to do, especially if I'm grooving to my own personal soundtrack. Recent downloads = Carbon Leaf's "Nothing Rhymes with Woman" and "Ether-Electrified Porch Music" albums; Stephen K & the Sixers "The Bear"; Juno movie soundtrack; Whip It movie soundtrack; Tepetricy; Fever Ray; and Dawn Landes.

    Stew and I also got to go on another "live music" date night this week, venturing out to Carrboro, NC on Tuesday night to catch a stop on the "Bear Rhymes with Woman" tour featuring Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers & Carbon Leaf. We got there early enough to enjoy dinner & beers at a conveniently located BBQ joint (The Q Shack) and then to snag a nice back wall, raised corner table spot at the venue, Cat's Cradle. The environment wasn't as conducive to point-n-shoot photography as was the Kid Rock show, but the experience was WAY more enjoyable. We had a good time, worthy of the late night driving and Stew even said it was one of his top concert experiences. On the way out, he got to shake hands with one of Carbon Leaf's guitarists, the longhaired dude, Terry, who said "Thanks for coming." Cool. Here is what I wore; where we sat; and what we saw:


    Next month I've signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo, a project/pursuit I've always thought would be fun but never saw anyone mention until like the middle of November when it is basically too late to start. The premise is that during the month of November, you challenge yourself to write a 50,000 word (like 175 page) novel. They encourage quantity over quality and suggest you not even edit while you write, just churn it out. Before November 1st it is okay prep by working out an outline or doing character sketches. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to write about, but even if it ends up being a trashy romance, I'm excited.

    Now I need to back-up some files and clean up my laptop, because somewhere in the process of working on images for this post I apparently ran my hard drive space to down to the bare minimum. Hate when that happens. And yes, it has happened before, I'm a pack rat digitally too...

    Oh yeah, and I've got laundry to put away...

    So you probably won't see anything here until next month! :)

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Swap-o-Rama-Rama in Raleigh

During the past few years of web surfing, I've seen clothing swaps mentioned several times. Whether it is a small affair held as a house party, or a larger event, it always seemed like a fun thing to do. The essence of it being that you bring a bag of unwanted clothing, and you leave with a bag of "new" stuff to add to your wardrobe. Like a "by the pound" thrift store, only with your own donation of clothing serving as your payment. A thrifty way to add more secondhand items to your wardrobe.

This Labor Day weekend I finally had a chance to attend a licenced Swap-o-Rama-Rama event, held on Saturday in downtown Raleigh, NC. Fortunately the location was in a rentable room at a kid's playplace, ala Marbles Museum. So Stew took the three boys in to play and I took my big green bag of clothes in to the swap.

Armed with my bag and a $10 donation (the producer of this swap was a nonprofit in Durham, The Scrap Exchange, where I totally want to go someday, Wiley would LOVE it), I stepped into the "Zanzibar Room" with little apprehension. I made my way in, making sure I got my big green bag back after it was emptied, and checked out some of the items up for raffle. Eventually I entered my raffle ticket (free with admission) in for a child's instrument set, complete with tambourine. I never win anything, but I wasn't required to be there to win, so what the hell. Next I headed over to the tables of donated clothing. After a few minutes of browsing, it made me smile to see one of the volunteers/workers wearing a funky 70s floral polyester top I'd brought, and then I began seeing more of my own donation added to the piles.

At first I was like "hmmm, do I really need any of this other stuff?" But then that whole, "Hey, REUSE/SWAP!" mentality settled in, and I started envisioning possibilities. A lemon yellow spandex tank top? No, but I could probably wear it for yoga/lounge clothes, or as a layer in a colorful outfit. An 80s pink sleeveless tank with a button-up neckline placket? No, but I could take it over to a "DIY Station" and paint the buttons orange. Plus I made sure to pick up one thing for each of the boys and something for Stew; an aquamarine LL Bean polo shirt for Stew (to enhance his eyes), a navy blue long sleeve t-shirt for Wiley (same), a stripe-y top for Cyrus, and a cute yellow ringer-tee w/ a motorcycle print for Milo.

After an hour of browsing, snagging and painting, I called Stew. He was still sane watching with the kids, who were apparently having a ball playing at the museum. He encouraged me to stay longer if I wanted to.

So I waited for my buttons to dry and circulated through the tables again, a fresh layer of clothes mixed in. Happily I noticed very few of my own donated items still remaining.

Also I started looking about at the other swappers. First to approach me was a woman who admired my big green bag. She had picked up a big pair of flannel PJ pants and asked one of the sewers at a DIY station to make a similar big bag out of the pants. Then I saw a young teenage girl wearing a brightly printed pair of flats from Grandma Long's collection. Earlier I'd seen a young miss wearing the moss green pair of Bitten flats I'd only worn once. Finally I saw that the nice lady that had liked my bag was wearing a pair of sandals I'd brought. The bag she'd commissioned was completed so I asked her to pose for a photo. She gave me her business card and asked me to email her the photo. Networkin' it yo.

Later as I was sitting to the side gazing into my big bag, another woman commented me on it, and I shared what I knew of its history. It came from Stew's side of the family, passed down to me by his Aunt who had said someone in the family(?) had been a fashion sales rep and had used it to carry around product samples to different vendor meetings. The woman then shared that her booth was promoting the "ReTails Thrift Shop." All the shop's proceeds go to support "THE $20 FIX," animalkind.org's targeted spay/neuter assistance program that enables low-income pet owners to spay/neuter their pets. Yay, a new thrift shop to check out the next time I'm in the northeast Raleigh area.

I circulated one more time, stashing a few more things into my big green bag. Finally, once my paint was dry, I called Stew one more time and then made my goodbyes. I headed out to meet the boys in the foyer of the museum. We swang through the gift shop, and as the boys had behaved well, we let them each buy a smallish toy.

Overall it was a lovely Saturday afternoon trip into Raleigh and we'll definitely do either a swap or Marbles Museum again.


Here is what I wore, completed by a skinny grommeted black belt that I "swapped" and put on while browsing:

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

To Amy, With Love

I've mentioned "heartbreaking loss" briefly before and now I'll share.

I have two older sisters. I love them both dearly.

But one has passed away, and every so often, outside of my own thoughts, I'm reminded of the loss.

You know, like when someone, maybe a doctor, asks you to list your siblings?... What do you say?

I have two older sisters.

No.

I had two older sisters.

No.

I have one living sister...

That was how I phrased it most recently. The doctor took pause, then quietly asked, "and how did the other pass?"

I usually abbreviate; a car accident.

8/5/09 will be the 13th anniversary. Thirteen years later and I'm still grasping for words. How to share her.

Now I've got a "blog" and I'm pretty sure she would have had one too. I've posted older writings before, and she always loved to read what I had to say... so I'll share once more.

My version. Unedited (pulled from a floppy disk a few years ago no less! OK - I've added scanned photos this time, and maybe a word change here or there). But otherwise, un-abbreviated.

What I wrote for an English class my Senior year in college ('98), when the pain was still fresh...
“On Her Way to San Jose”

My oldest sister matured into a photographer and delighted in taking my picture. She also took pictures of clouds, strange pieces of daily life, and Barry Manilow. She uprooted to move to California two summers ago to focus on her art. I often picture her there, but the thing is, she isn’t.

I had turned 21, finally beginning somewhat of a mature life that resembled hers. I had been introduced into her circle of friends years before, and I had just started to feel more at ease around them; more grown up. For a spell during my childhood, Amy had pretended I didn’t exist. To her, I was a whiny little brat who stole away the attention of our mother. We later joked about it being the cause for a breakdown I would surely have sometime in my old age.

Amy moved out of our country home after high school. Flunking out of a college in Missouri brought her back. It seemed like during that stint in college she was home often, even though it was a 3 hour drive. Mom would do her laundry. Amy didn’t know what she wanted to do, so college wasn’t interesting. After a short stay at home, she moved about 30 minutes away, into the city. She supported herself with an Accounting job at the city paper, even though she had flunked Accounting in high school.

It sounds as if she was a stupid flunk-out. She wasn’t. She was brilliant, always reading. I have memories of her sitting in a big brown easy chair, flipping through novels, newspapers and magazines, soaking them up, analyzing. She kicked ass at Trivial Pursuit and Rubick’s Cube. Hollywood mesmerized her, and she knew six degrees to any obscure actor, not just Kevin Bacon.

Amy’s next move took her a bit further west, across the Missouri river and into Omaha, Nebraska. Here she got another cubicle job for more pay and quickly became the most popular girl in the department. Cathy and I would go visit her. She always wanted to show us off, as we were often characters she included in her witty banter. Her colleagues seemed to me like an elusive Brat Pack, always cracking inside jokes and coming up with crazy catch phrases. At this point I was driving our grandmother’s old Dodge Omni, and evolving into something of a personality myself. I was excelling in high school like my sisters, and following in their footsteps by joining the high school band and gaining that modest popularity that geeks can achieve. I played saxophone in the jazz band, like Amy had.

She and I developed similar interests. I would drive into Omaha and crash at her apartment. We would see movies, go out to eat, or just hang around playing with her computer. The internet was new and she had an account with Prodigy, an early internet provider. She would post messages in the Barry Manilow BBS and I would
participate in juvenile “slamming” in the alternative music ones. We would compare our posted messages and compliment each other’s witty words. Then we would laugh at the enormous response our messages would garner.



Amy was an avid Barry Manilow concert fan and became a talented entertainment photographer. Cathy and I would go to concerts with her and sit in the front row, half embarrassed and half proud of the way our older sister would cut loose, hooting and hollering between snaps of her Pentax. She had tons of “Barry friends” from all over the country who admired her photos. I would fall asleep on her couch, listening to her pace back and forth on the phone, discussing plane and concert ticket transactions. She talked loud and fast on the phone, allowing herself time to listen with just as much energy.

Somewhere between work and her social life (she would’ve said “lack of social life”), school became a priority. This time she knew what she wanted, and dabbled in History, English, and Journalism before focusing on Photography. She had a crush on one of her work colleagues who was also going to school with her for photography. They had great chemistry and it was reflected in the work that was produced from their shared studio and darkroom schedules.

When my high school graduation neared, I asked her take my senior pictures. She jumped at the chance. We spent a day on the farm. Walking around looking for good natural light and backdrops. We would stop and she would take about 10 shots. It felt so natural, like there wasn’t a camera between us. She would prompt me to smile and tell me if I looked fake. Of course she was always making me laugh. She was raunchy and hilarious. She would tell me I was beautiful. And through her lens I was, for what seemed like the first time.

I moved away to college and we began writing back and forth, via email and snail mail. Her letters and email were so alive! She phrased things bravely and poignantly. She would beg me to write back. “Did I mention, I want to move to LA???? Write me or lose that creative edge... Ame” She loved my writing, although I think it paled in comparison to hers. We inspired each other creatively. She lived vicariously through my funky fashion sense, party scenes, and freshman sexual escapades. We would compare class schedules and help each other study Art History during late night phone calls. When I was home on break she would invite me over to bleach her hair. I would use what was left of the bleach to put streaks in mine. We matched.



Amy was always happy to be with family and friends. She would hug us all, hello and goodbye and in between. Her conversation enlivened a room. She was blooming in her late twenties and we were all encouraging it. When she decided to move away, to California, no one was surprised. She had a hard time deciding things, especially major life changes. But when she made one, she stuck with it. We all helped her move out of her apartment into temporary living quarters with Cathy and her roommate, a family friend, Laura. She took about a month to finalize things and then we were summoned to help her move.

My boyfriend Stew (who she completely approved of), Cathy, Laura and I were to there to help her pack up her small car and a rented minivan. We were all going to drive her west to San Jose, making a stop in Lake Tahoe, one of her most favorite spots in the world. It was going to be grand. A road trip! We were humming bars from “Do you know the way to San Jose?”

We packed until midnight or 1 a.m. and then started getting ready to drive. Everyone had slept at one point or another and we were energized, ready to hit the road. Before we pulled away from the curb she had us all get into a group hug, and then took a picture of the circle our feet made and a few parting shots. Cathy, Stew and I took the lead in the minivan, with Amy and Laura in her small two-door tailing us. It was lightly raining when we got out of city limits onto the interstate, and then it began to pour.

There seemed to be a bit of a distance between our cars and we slowed down to catch sight of her lights in our mirrors. We passed through a spot of road construction where the eastbound and westbound traffic were slowed and merged into two-way traffic. We lost sight of her lights once again when we were out of the construction and pulled off to the side to wait. A semi passed and maybe another car. We started to worry when no more headlights came from behind us. Just as we headed out to find a spot to turn around we got a call on the cellular phone. There had been an accident. They had both been thrown from the car, even with seat belts on. A witness with a cellular phone told us that Laura was conscious and that Amy knew her name. He said that it was “bad.”

By the time we got across the median, the traffic eastbound was starting to back up. We were at a stand still and couldn’t see anything but cars for a mile. Stew got out and ran up the road in the rain. Cathy and I started to panic. We saw an ambulance zoom by and then police. Stew came slowly back, drenched. He had seen them put into ambulances and asked a police officer where they had been taken. We had to turn the minivan around and backtrack to get back onto the interstate, into the city, towards the hospital. I was trying to be optimistic. I don’t remember if I was praying or what, but it was some form of complete concentration on one hope in the whole world. She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.

We were led into a private room off from the waiting area. A box of tissues and blankets were brought in. Our parents had been called and were on their way. After about 10 minutes, two doctors came in and told us that there had been nothing they could do. She had been given CPR from the scene, but extensive internal injuries had taken her life.

We had been crying when they entered and now we were weeping uncontrollably. There was disbelief. We were on our way west damn it! We had to get back on the road! But there was no more Amy and no more reason to go. Our parents arrived and we had to tell them. My father, who I’d only seen cry once before, broke into tears, saying her name over and over again. My mother sat calmly and went to see the body when the doctors came back. She returned and told us that Amy had looked peaceful. It was when the nurse came in with Amy’s watch and jewelry that mom fell apart. We drove back to the apartment in the rented van, packed full with her things, in silence broken by sobs.

Laura had survived with a bad head wound from hitting the windshield. She had been taken to another hospital. It wasn’t until early morning when her parents brought her to us. She was in shock but gave us some details. They had been cranking Melissa Etheridge and eating Vanilla Wafers. They had slowed down when the heavy rain hit and Amy was having to fight the water pulling at the tires as she merged into two-way traffic due to the construction. She told Laura it would be okay, and then suddenly they were swerving. A four wheel drive vehicle heading east hit them, tearing the driver’s side door away, pulling the small car in half.

I strived to get an internship in New York City the following summer. Amy would have been behind me 100 percent in the flesh, and I know she was in spirit. She loved the Big Apple and knew one of us was destined for it. I walked around the city looking at it through her eyes, trying to find angles she would have photographed. At the Museum of Modern Art I stood in front of black and white photography exhibits that could have been hers. I visited places she had told me about, like Radio City Music Hall and the New York Public Library. She loved those huge lions at the entrance so I sat on one and wrote to her in my journal.

I have surrounded myself with pieces of her life. Photographs, pillows, stationary, and trinkets that are treasures now. It has been about two years, and I still cry off and on, but not so much anymore. I can feel her with me, hugging me, egging me on. Whenever I am on long road trips I think of her as my Patron Saint of Travel.

I am not extremely religious and neither was she, but I feel as though her aura surrounds me, and all those who she touched in one way or another. I write to her in my journal, sorting things out and bragging about achievements. She still inspires me. She had favored the phrases, “Carpe Diem” and “Fuck It” and I try to live by both.

I keep her in my back pocket where a Sunday School teacher once told me Jesus was supposed to be. Ha ha, remember that from CCD? This way, she is with me as I submit poetry for publication, or work on my portfolio with her art tools. She is with me as I skip a class to enjoy the spring weather with a walk through the woods. She is with me as I make plans for my fame and fortune. She’ll be with me as I bloom into my late twenties, and she’ll help me on the way to my “San Jose.”

Miss you Amy (7/16/1968 - 8/5/1996)

Love,
Sandy