Crap.

It was a good week. Lots of driving, lots of friends, lots of flat boring portions of these United States.

But now the road trip is over. A call last night informed us that Shelby Woo the Subaru is dead. Done. Gone to a better place. Kicked the proverbial bucket. Was sent to a nice farm in the country where she can run and play all day long with other Subaru's. The amount it would take to fix her is roughly 75% more than what we originally paid for her... a month and a half ago.

So now we're crashing with Chandler's step aunt and uncle in Denver, trying to figure out what happens with our lives now. No money. No jobs. No home. No clippers to shave this burly man-beard I cultivated for the road trip.

But in the midst of the despair, there is a light that never goes out (freakin' A the Smiths!). I can see the Rocky Mountains from the window next to me, there's a Chipotle less than a mile away, and I happen to have $10 in my pocket. The Good Lord's taken care of us so far, and I've always wanted to go dumpster diving.

Things. Just. Got. Interesting.




The Illest of Hip Hop Gangster Shoutouts To:
Lila Jeanne Taylor, born yesterday to Kyle and Sarah. Welcome to Thunderdome little nugget.

Day 7 and 8 OR I'm Pretty Sure I'd Rather Shower With A Live Badger Than Watch Sex and the City

Chicago... the city of lights. We rolled into the home of the pizza made in deep dishes around 10 o'clock on Sunday night and immediately hit up a TGI Fridays for some local fare and flair. Danny, the peppy bartender, was all aghast and atwitter that two globetrotters such as ourselves we right here... right now... sitting at his bar... eating hamburgers... mulling over how bad the Bears suck. Afterward we met Tasha at her place and crashed on a nest of couch cushions, somehow rendering the best night of sleep we've had in weeks.

A recipe for a full day in Chicago:

1 Tasha Bruinsma... so dutch

1 giant mirror bean in the middle of a city park

3 big effing bowls of soup from the Soup Box

7 to 8 miles of walking around slack-jawed because the buildings are all big and stuff

2 deep (so deep!) dish pizzas with Lucia

1 nap

Shake, consume, try not to hurl from the overload of wicked BA-edness

It seemed to be a good idea at the time that we drive through the night to Denver. It just made sense. Until we started driving. And driving. And refilling the gas tank. And driving. And holy crap more driving. 17 hours later, some witch doctor somewhere too a voodoo doll of Shelby Woo the Subaru, allowed a rabid shiatsu to gnaw on it, then flushed it down a truck stop toilet. Check engine light went on. Oil started leaking. Serpentine belt decided to go for a field trip to the back of the engine block. 90 miles from Denver, when all this went down, my blood pressure shot through the roof. Quick as a flash, Chandler sang some Lady Gaga, put her feet up on the dash, and took a nap.

Shelby made it, and is in the shop right now turning her head and coughing. Pray that she makes it out alright.


Day 9 - Denver. So dank!

Day 5 and 6 OR All You Need Is Love... and Stomp The Yard

Spending a day with the Murphy's was a lot like hanging out with Bear Grylls while eating chocolate pudding and tussling with a puppy while Bear talks about getting enough protein and the dangers of glaciers. Holy crap it was awesome.

A strapping breakfast of potato pancakes and ham'n'cheese casserole? Check.

Crushing a third grader at ping pong? Yessir.

Copious amounts of time spent in the miniature van? Oyez oyez.

Skyline Chili? Magically delicious.

Beans? Indeed.

Nickelback? Eff that.

Frolf? You bet your mom.

Chuch? Amen.

The day was extremely well-rounded like a young Rosie O'Donnel. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and look forward to seeing the Murphy's again at least before Cooper gets his first tattoo (5 years or less).

After a raucous church service (could be the first time those two words were used in the same sentence without a qualifier) my shorty and I drove to meet mom and dad in Friendship, IN for the National Muzzleloading Rifle Association's championship shoot. This is what I grew the beard for.

And now, to give an eyewitness account to the goings-on of this glorious day, here, for the first time ever, is GUEST BLOGGER CHANDLER WYGANT:

Well, I hadn't planned on blogging during the trip, because we all know ben is infinitely more entertaining, but I thought you should here about Friendship, Indiana from me, because to ben its like coming home, but I got to see it all with fresh little naive eyes. I'll do my best to give you a full picture of the last 24 hours...


Ever been to a Penn State football tailgate? The NMLRA shoots are a lot like that, except they last for a full week, everyone has guns, the campers were all made before 1975, the sheriff drives around town in a green john deer golf cart, and they're all republicans. or white supremicists. or both? I imagine the NMLRA is a lot like the NRA except that they are purists.. you'll find no modern weaponry here, my friend. just a lot of loose gunpowder.

We arrived Saturday night to an entire valley smelling of sulfur and gun powder, with bonfires and rednecks of all ages everywhere. Most everything was shut down by that point, except for a few peddlars selling assortments of old guns, hunting knives and hand-blown glass marijuana parafanalia out of old sheep sheds. There was a loud barn dance, for the late-nighters of the group. No one was really dancing, but there was more cheap beer and more flasks than I saw the whole time i was college. Ninety percent of the guys were wearing cutoff t-shirts and boots. I felt like I'd stepped into another world, the one that exists only in cheesy country songs about the backwoods or the south or northern michigan, the kind of world that i, in my suburban popped collar and pearls world, idealize when I blast jason aldean with vail in my car, but didn't believe actually existed.

This morning, things just got even better. As I waited in line for a hot shower (bonus! didn't expect that), The sound of gunshots erupted promptly at 7:30, starting off the competitions. There are roughly 15-20 shooting ranges in the Friendship valley, including one for the kids. with real guns. This is where my husband spent his childhood summers. The one we started off at was a skeet range where you rotate from station to station, much like around the world in basketball, and shoot at either one or two clay pigeons at a time, depending on your preference. Ben and his dad held down the fort, while his mom and I proudly cheered them on. Then his dad taught me how to load the gun and let me get a few shots in. I didn't hit anything. I'm not sure I understand how to aim. That and I'm left-eye dominate, which is apparently a problem while trying to shoot a right-handed gun. But I gave it my best and looked pretty good holding a gun, i think. So i got that going for me.


After that we wandered over to what they call the primitive ranges, where everyone is dressed as pioneers or native americans, and they all sleep in makeshift teepees. Here, people, who may actually think its still 16 or 17 or 1840, sell all kinds of colonialesque stuff, like you could buy in Williamsburg. Then at the shooting range, they aim at posters of British soldiers instead of bulls eyes. priceless.

This pretty much concluded our short stay in Friendship, but the memories will live on forever, I assure you. Until next time, here's my husband back.




Friendship was wicked awesome. Things burned. Things exploded. Things got cut in half by primitive weapons. The Lord smiled on this patch of Indiana wilderness.

Day 7 - Chicagolandfieldvilledom. Deep. Dish. Pizza.

Day 4 OR Where The Crap Did We Put The Gold Bond?

It's become somewhat of a tradition to see the Kessick children right after they're born... fresh out the oven, if you will. We rolled into Hudson OH yesterday and were immediately received by a chubby little nugget by the name of Charis Kessick. Here's Chandler getting her maternal instinct on with the proud momma:




Meanwhile, Kess and I got our man on and moved furniture:




...and just for fun, here's a picture of me holding a dead rattlesnake on a tray:




After these assorted shenanigans, we crossed the expanse of OH (the heart of it all). It was Chandler's first time in the midwest and she could barely contain her excitement, at one point even shouting, "I have to pee soon. Do you know where we put the granola?" with glee.

Last night we played poker with the Murphy's at their friend's place in Mason OH. Murph was my area director in college, as well as my foosball and raquetball foe, and an all around mench of a dude. I ended up netting 4.50 in the poker game on a big hand toward the end of the contest. I promptly took a shirtless victory lap around the house screaming cursewords triumphantly.


Day 5 - A day out in the 'Nati.

Day 3 OR Pete Wygant's Milkshake Brings All The Kids To Shop Class

A pro's and con's list of Brad Schmitt's house:

Pro - It's in State College... like a nugget of gold in a pile of poop nuggets, the SC stands out amongst the rest of PA's college towns.

Con - It's not decorated at all. Like seriously... totally un-decorated. I may not be gay, but I know a decor disaster when I see it. It's bleak like a padded cell.

Pro - Brad's big effing tv. Man vs. Wild never looked so good. I could practically smell Bear Grylls... and he smelled like conquest.

Con - Seriously... there's nothing on the walls. At all. Not even smudge marks. Or scuffs.

Pro - His guest beds are wicked comfortable. I slept like a dead person would sleep if they weren't dead and took a lot of nyquil.

Con - I'm serious. There's nothing on the walls. I've seen padded cells with more pizazz.


All sterility aside, staying with Brad was awesome. Kudos for getting the exact same program assignment 3 years running dude (shafted!). The wife and I ambled around the SC for a few hours, bought Chandy Cane some Mountain Hardware pants at Ap House (homegirl rocks the granola look), ate some Panera, and busted out of there Shawshank style. Chandler went to the bathroom at a rest stop where a senile gentleman had just pissed on the seat of the women's restroom (classic!).

Two hours later we rolled into Franklin PA. As I opened the door of my car, mom and dad's chocolate lab Tess (short for Woodland's Lacka Testicles... dead serious. Way to go dad) jumped into the car and sat in Chandy's Pants' lap. The result - I'm totally getting a dog. She melted like a fudgesicle on a cheap college dorm hot plate. We ate chicken and dumplings that my mom made from scratch and I helped my dad with the construction of his new garage. Afterwards we went for a walk. Then Norman Rockwell painted us and we were filmed for a Country Time Lemonade commercial. It was freakin' awesome... and then the Steelers won, which was awesomer.

Day 4 - Hudson OH to see the Kessicks and the new nugget and onto the 'Nati to see the Murphy clan.

Day 1 + 2

Every time I hit the brakes, an avalanche of crap descended upon my head. Shelby Woo the Subaru looked like an obese woman after a solid 2 hour session at the Ponderosa buffet - perilously stuffed, lurching forward only in protest, threatening to vomit its contents at the slightest jolt. We left the home of tax-free shopping at about 6:30 on Tuesday night after an 11 hour cleaning blitz on our home... which was comprised mostly of me lying on the floor complaining about cleaning while Chandler actually cleaned.

Three hours of speed limit driving later, we arrived in Fredericksburg, VA to see our homeslices Laura and Cliff Wright. Cliff is the YL area director in FXBG and looks dirty sexy in a v-neck t-shirt with all his burly chest hair erupting from the neck line (you can't defeat the chest hair... you can only hope to contain it). The first evening was spent at a fine dining establishment where the women discussed relationships, makeup, and daytime television while the men discussed how much it sucked to sit in the corner of the booth because the confined space did not allow your dice to roll (it confined your Olsen twins... it really cramped your Hardy boys - it was no mystery).

The next day we took a field trip to Lake Anna where we met a kindly old man named "T" or "Tea" or "Tee" who showed us around his lake house. From there, we proceeded to drive to Chipotle via backroads, revealing Virignia's true colors (a random goat on a porch eating a rose bush, more confederate flags than you could shake a stick at, pretty flowers, lots of cows). Our lunch at Chipotle was nothing short of ecstasy... a cornucopia of meats and cheeses and trans fats spilling out of the edges of a burrito bowl like an overflowing bath tub full of chocolate pudding and puppies. Glee.

We said our tearful (and for Cliff and I, vaguely fruity) goodbyes and headed toward State College... only to crawl along I-270 in a cuss word-filled jaunt through northern Virginia. I imagine hell being a lot like NVa, only with Nickelback on every radio station and Kathy Lee Gifford riding in the passenger seat.

We got to State College. We hung out with Robbie Howard, Sarah Lucas, Brad Schmitt, and Courtney Cox. We acted like college kids again. We rushed Kappa Sig. We stuffed a phone booth. We wore college sweaters. We gave it the old college try. And it was awesome.

Day 3 - Franklin... the land of unemployment and homemade jams and jellies. Punk rock.

you're wrong. it's stomp the yard.

fall's back baby. like a classic rock band reunion tour that miraculously doesn't suck, fall returns with an unprecedented gusto and a fist full of awesome to smack us all around with. thank you sir, may i have another. seriously kids, fall injects a heaping pile of punk rock into our lives the way wilford brimley shoots genius into otherwise mediocre films (i.e. - ewoks: the battle for endor). spec-freakin'-tacular. fall, if it wanted to, could have saved disco. it could have made indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull into a movie that didn't make me want to drive my car off a bridge holding a live puma. it could make black licorice actually taste good. it could probably cure prostate cancer if it felt like it. instead, fall makes just about everything else better.

i.e.:

starbucks. it's impossible not to feel gay when ordering anything at starbucks. try to feel like a man while ording a venti nonfat iced vanilla chai latte (i just started singing a song from rent while typing that). can't be done. slap a little fall on it though: pumpkin spice latte. bam. i don't care if you paint my car rainbow now, just hook me up with an i.v. of this crack-infused coffee drink and put a little wham on the stereo. wake me up before you go go!

weather. don't get me wrong, i love basting in a marinade of my own sweat and filth from the moment i step out of the shower till the moment i get back in as much as the next guy. 95 degrees/95% humidity isn't all that bad if you're the kind of dude who loves to lose 5 pounds just by walking outside to get the paper. that, however, is not how fall rolls. slap a little fall on it though: sunny with a high of 73. bam. bust out that hoodie and just leave those shorts on, mister. you're a master of fashion and as comfortable as a baby buried neck deep in puppies.

television. shark week was a month ago and i just came down off of that high. now i'm searching for something to fill that shark week on discovery channel-shaped void in my life. i've seen every episode of m.a.s.h. i can't handle all the shows about loggers and truckers that history and discovery are shoving down my throat. oh where, oh where is my quality television programming? what's that? slap a little fall on it? BAM. THE NEW SEASON OF MAN VS. WILD. hallelujah, my friends. just last night i watched this thoroughbred of a human being pimp smack the chihuahua desert in Texas like it wasn't no thing. last week he manhandled vietnam like it was nineteen seventy... uh... oh wait... we lost that war. um... man vs. wild totally rules.

sports. football. the world series. the return of hockey. thank you fall. thank you. thank you. thank you.

beer. yeah, i said it. i live one mile from the arguably the most cutting-edge craft brewery in the united states and i've come to appreciate their vast array of delicious fermented beverages. each has its own distinct characteristics coupled with subtle hints of flavors that guarantee set one's palate waltzing. slap a little fall on it? dogfish head punkin ale. bam. spicy. sweet. hoppy. smooth. euphoric. like autumn in a bottle. like finding a 20 in your winter jacket. like square dancing with gary coleman in a top hat on a mississippi river boat. beautiful.



ah yes my friends. celebrate with me, if you will, this season of seasons. because before we know if, we'll all be freezing our respective 'nads off.




listen to:
"gold country" by chuck ragan. makes me want to go prospectin' or shoot someone over a claim or respect a woman (like my momma taught me).

watch:
man vs. wild. can't say it enough.

can't stop checking out:
my 97 subaru outback. her name's shelby woo, and she's as sexy as the day is long. woo, you do your thang, girl!

hip hop gangster shoutout to:
dan and kc irvin. assignment wasn't the same without L.P. and the dominator.

PREPARE TO GET WYGANT-ED

strike up the freakin' nerd-infused brass band, kids! it's the semi-finalized wygant world tour itinerary:



Sept 8 - Fredericksburg, VA for some Laura and Cliff Wright

9 - State College, PA to Brad that Schmitt

10 - Franklin, PA for the Katie monster, mommy and daddy

11 - Hudson, OH to take the Kessicks to lunch, and onto Toledo, OH for Dan and KC Irvin

12 - The 'Nati, OH to church ourselves at Vineyard and visit the Murphy Clan

13, 14 - Chicago, IL for Tasha for her possum impression, Barlich for his beard, and Lucia for his sass

15, 16, 17 - Denver to visit the Sawyers and the Tis experience

18, 19, 20 - Aspen, CO... the promised land to visit the Taylors (and possibly the new Taylor nugget... prayerfully named Chauncy)

21 - Arches Natl' Park, UT to camp 'n'at

22, 23 - Salt Lake City/Park City to see Donnie and Kim and to pass out on Allie's couch (dibs on spooning with the dog)

24, 25 - Emmett, ID for the Sebastians and to get the full Idaho experience

26, 27, 28 - Seaside, OR... because holy crap we love the Wolff's

29 - Redwood Natl' Park, CA to camp 'n'at

30, Oct. 1 - Yosemite Natl' Park, CA to camp 'n'at

2 - Great Basin Natl' Park, NV to camp 'n'at

3 - Grand Junction, CO because I haven't seen Mikie Harmeling in like 6 friggin' years

4 - Boulder, CO because what's life without a little Swalsh in it?

5 - Lincoln, NE to crash with an Uncle that Chandler barely even knows

6 - Chicago, IL the sequel!

7 - Home to watch Katie get her wedding on

October 13th - Roll into Aspen, shave, shower, beg for jobs.



get your tickets now. prep yourself for a vicious mosh pit and probably some raucous crowd surfing. who knows, maybe we'll get fired quick and go out for an encore in february.



hatin' on:
P90X: The Proof. no crap this stuff works, tony. just pitch it like a normal tv spokesperson: snort some coke, tuck in your shirt, and get a crowd that is easily thrown into disbelief.