Kinda ready to get rolling

Today's the day I should be receiving a dispatch and heading out once again.  I don't know when that will happen, so I'm getting some last-minute stuff done beforehand.

I was going through some of the pictures I had taken on my last trip out, and decided to share this one.  I had stopped for the night in North Little Rock, Arkansas, at the truck stop you see in the picture.  It was a dreary, rainy day, and I had to conduct some business at the truck stop across the street.  This is what I saw when I came back outside.

I need to pick up some more traveling supplies, and perhaps get some breakfast.  I have no idea which direction I'll be headed, or even if I'll get out of here today.  No matter, I'll just have to take it as it comes.

I'll write more when I'm able to do so.  Enjoy your day.

Trying something new (to me)

So, how stupid am I that I had absolutely no idea I could post the pictures from my phone's camera to the blog?  To think of all the wonderful stuff I could have had here.  Oh well, at least I'm using my down time to actually learn something.

This is a picture of the sunrise over the mountains near Albuquerque.  This is actually the better of the ones I took.  When possible, I try to take a picture a day, mostly because it's cheaper than buying postcards, and not a lot of truck stops offer postcards for sale.  It also provides a way of keeping those at home posted as to my whereabouts and allows me to share some of the things I see on a daily basis.

I keep the pictures confined to my Google Plus account for the most part, but if I think there's something fairly interesting to those of you that follow this blog (and that fact still amazes me), I will put it here so as not to overwhelm you all.

Have a great day, everyone.

Taking the left turn

Once again, it's time for a reset of my clock, which means I get to sit and relax for about a day and a half.  Sometimes I get some wonderful views, other times I don't get to see anything other than the parking area of the truck stop.

The truck stop I'm spending my time at is on top of a hill, and below me the city of Albuquerque is laid out, row upon row of lighted streets, and in the distance, what I believe could be some of the downtown buildings.  I stood for a few minutes after dinner, just looking down at the lights below, another American city I've had the chance to spend a little time in, even if it was just on the fringes.

I've encountered many cities like that in my travels.  Boston, San Diego, Tucson, Philadelphia ... there's many others, but the story is the same for each of them.  I was only there because I had a job to do, no time for sightseeing or exploring.  Still, I consider myself lucky to have been there, as I consider myself lucky to see sights that up until now I could have only seen in a television show or movie.  I never for a moment dreamed that I would pass through the southwestern deserts of Arizona, Nevada, and California.  Nor did I even imagine I would see the sand dunes in southern California, or see mountain passes and open prairies up close and personal.

One of these days, I might get to actually put my feet in the Pacific Ocean instead of gazing upon it as I drive past enroute to pick up or deliver another load to parts unknown.  Or, perhaps I might be able to sit down to a lobster dinner in New England again, instead of having to be satisfied with the standard truckers' fare at the truck stop.  There's a lot of things that I would like to do, but the realities of the job won't allow it to happen.  And vacation? Please.

I can barely afford to sit and reset my clock.

No matter.  For now, I relax.  Work will return soon enough, and the frustrations and stresses along with it.  Where do I go from here?  Only my dispatcher knows for sure.

Westward, snow!

I can't begin to tell you just how much of a thrill it is to be back on the road yet again.  I can't tell you, mainly because I don't find it thrilling at all. I find no thrill in spending two full nights without heat in some quite cold areas, racing to make as much time as possible before any potential ice shuts down your travel route prior to delivery, or eating in restaurants that offer buffet items such as mashed "potatoes" and brown creamy "gravy."  (true story, saw it this evening at the place I stopped at in New Mexico.  At least the salad bar looked better than most of the ones I've encountered.)

As is typical of this time of the year, especially in the mountain areas, there's some snow in the forecast.  Looks like it will be a quick storm, and I'm hoping I can get moving at a decent hour tomorrow.  Moving west makes it a little bit easier, as the time zone changes make things earlier in that part of the world, and thus easier to find a parking spot.  And you know I'm all about the convenience.

I don't foresee any delays as far as my delivery date, so that's one ray of good news.

Although, if I had my druthers, I'd be with the one I truly love today, instead of in a truck that FINALLY HAS WORKING HEAT THANKS A BUNCH YOU JERKHEADS FOR MAKING ME WAIT TWO WHOLE DAYS TO GET THE DAMN THING FIXED, a bunch of miles from home, lonely as hell, with no entertainment other than "Life and Love, Redneck Style" enacted live in the restaurant a scant two tables diagonally away from me.  Special Guest Appearance by The Lyin' Drunk!

I'm offending myself, so it's off to the showers with me.  More when I am able, as usual.

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels

I know, I tend to use a lot of song lyrics.  Do you know why? Because they fit.  Thank you.

So, as you can probably guess, The One Shot ... shot down.  It's not so much the "why" of it all, but more of the "how" that has me in a mood.  Pull up a seat and I shall explain.

I interviewed with this place on Monday afternoon.  I thought things were going fairly well, and I told them flat out that I was due to report back on Thursday to begin another stretch.  I was told by them that they would have an answer for me before then, on Wednesday.  That was fine by me, we shook hands and off I went.

Wednesday rolled around, and I had received no word.  I figured they were busy (small office, ya know) so I waited until later in the afternoon to call them.  I got what was best termed a "non-answer."  It went along the lines of they were very busy, they would be interviewing for the rest of the week, how long would I be gone for, yadda yadda evade doubletalk tapdance yadda.  I thanked them for the update and resigned myself to yet another fun-filled trek across this great country of ours.

Deep down, I was hoping for an eleventh-hour reprieve, as was Ms. Darkstar.  I was fortunate that I could not leave the yard until Friday afternoon at best, so that day was spent getting done what I needed to be allowed to leave the yard and hoping, praying, and almost begging for the phone call.

It never came.

So here I am in Oklahoma, headed into Colorado, with lots of funtime weather ahead of me.  When I received this assignnment, I did not take it very well.  After about fifteen minutes, I collected myself and got things moving again.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed, and I'd be lying even harder if I said that what they did really didn't matter to me all that much, because it should have been obvious from Wednesday's phone call that I was not the one to be chosen.  Although, how hard would it have been to say right then that I wasn't the candidate they were going to hire, in which case I wouldn't have had my hopes raised as high as they were. 

I've also learned that I should wait a few days before listening to music the next time I set out (gods help me), because it gets real tough to see the road ahead with blurry, tear-obscured vision.

And the journey begins anew.

Threadbare tapestry unwinding slow...

I've reached that point in my time at home.  The dreaded halfway point, after which it's all downhill until my return to another couple of months on the road once again.  I'd be lying if I said I was looking forward to going back.

There is a glimmer of hope, however.  It's a faint glimmer, almost a barely glowing ember, but I am hoping it will expand to a bright light that will show me the way out of the darkness I am in.

"This time is different," he said, trying more to convince others than himself, as he was already convinced that this would be The One Shot.  Research was actually done in advance, I know more now of what I want to get myself in to, and I have no doubts or questions forming in my mind as I did when I took the path that led me to where I am now.

Okay, the path previous was a necessary evil, as without it I wouldn't have the critical component to The One Shot that I do now.  I could have done without the past four months, in terms of the isolation and loneliness, but I am grateful for the experience I gained.

I'm hoping to know something more by tomorrow, since I'm due to return on Thursday and jump through several more hoops before I can actually get back out on the road.  And, that's assuming that my truck has been fixed and is not still sitting in the repair bay.

I'm not looking forward to the next stretch of away time.  I'm at the point where I would do anything within my power to make it not happen.  I got this way right before the last time I went out.  And, I'm quite sure it will continue to happen each time I have moments like this.

The One Shot, right now, seems to be the only hope I have left.  And I refuse to give up on it.

I just hope it doesn't give up on me. 

Welcome to the threadbare tapestry that is my mind.

I think the kitchen missed me

One disadvantage to being a truck driver is that your choice of stopping points is severely limited by where your truck is allowed access, and consequently, you will be parking in the most remote areas of town, where a truck stop won't wreck the aesthetic of the quaint little community nearby.  As a result, your choices of cuisine are limited to whatever is nearby, or at the truck stop itself.  This leads to eating a lot of food that is:

1. Disc-shaped,
2. Vaguely beef-flavored, and
3. Served on a bun with fries and a soda.

Or, you may encounter more haute cuisine choices, depending if there's a Denny's or another type of diner-type place at the truck stop. These places get a bit pricey, and much like everything else, it's all the same thing no matter where you go and it gets boring quickly.

This is why, when I do get home, I cook like a madman and eat like a condemned prisoner on his last day.  Last night, we went to our favorite Brazilian restaurant, where we had the rodizio (rotisserie-cooked meats on skewers served - and carved - tableside, what's not to love?); Monday will be a trip to one of the local Vietnamese restaurants, which one we haven't determined yet; and this evening and Wednesday are my turn in the kitchen.

Since I was away for all of the major holidays, we never had a proper feast as we had in the past.  If memory serves, we had a pot roast with homemade stuffing for our late Thanksgiving dinner, so I wanted to do something a little different this time around.  I have a recipe for a maple-mustard-glazed pork roast in one of my Cooking Club of America books (yes, I'm also a life member) that I had made once before to rave reviews.  We opted for my bacon-garlic sauteed potatoes instead of the sauteed apples, and a quickie dessert of mini-cupcakes and boxed pudding.  After dinner yesterday, we did our shopping to prepare for the cooking ahead.

After a nice breakfast of bacon and blueberry muffins, I puttered around the house before getting the preparation started for dinner.  I mixed up the roasting glaze, which was butter, maple syrup (the real stuff, not that Aunt Jemima corn-syrup crap), Dijon mustard, some balsamic vinegar, and a bit of sage, parsley, salt, and pepper.  This was spread over the roast a few minutes before it went into the oven.

Bacon and garlic was cut up, followed by the potatoes.  This was set aside until the roast was almost done, and the dipping sauce for the pork was prepped (syrup, mustard, and a dash of balsamic vinegar).  Once the roast was about five degrees from done, I heated the pan for the potatoes, rendered down the bacon, and tossed in the potatoes.  The roast came out and was allowed tor rest on the serving platter while the potatoes finished.  The garlic went in at the last moment to avoid overcooking, along with some parsley, salt, and pepper.  The dipping sauce was heated in the microwave right before service, portioned out into smaller bowls, and the whole thing was served with a lovely, sweet moscato.

The pork was very moist and tender, the potatoes came out very well, and Ms. Darkstar was extra-thrilled to have lots of delicious food cooked by me once again.  In a little bit I'll retrieve the desserts and relax with a nice chai.

Coming Wednesday: my attempt at Indian cookery.