Good evening. Tonight, I write to you from the passenger seat of
a white 2003 Ford cargo van somewhere between Miles City and Baker, Montana.
It’s nearly 11 PM, which is Hour 35 of this little adventure.

When I went to work yesterday morning, I had no idea I’d be
leaving in a few hours for a fast roadtrip that would take me through some of
the most scenic land in the country. North through the Black Hills, west across
Wyoming to the Big Horns, south to the Tetons and over to Jackson Hole,
Wyoming. Then, up through Yellowstone into Idaho before West Yellowstone,
Montana. Then it was time to head home through Bozeman, Billings and
Baker.

My co-worker Brian is, like me, a traveling machine. In the 700
mile, 12-hour curvy mountain road journey to Jackson Hole last night, we stopped
only once. Since leaving our customer’s store in West Yellowstone, we’ve only
stopped once. The only sustenance we have had in the past 12 hours is a 20oz
bottle of water each. The only reason we can’t drive straight through is this
gas guzzling V10 only allows us to get about 500 miles on a tank of gas. Well,
and to switch drivers.
 
The key to a good roadtrip is always a good roadtrip buddy. Someone who happily splits
driving duties and is conversational yet doesn’t insist on talking the whole damn time.
 Brian fits all of those things. In fact, this trip has gone so good that I’ve decided to sign us
up for one of those 24-hour desert baja races. You know, the ones where the team has to race all
night long? Now, I just need to find a dune buggy…and tell Brian.
 
The GPS says we should get home at 2:15 AM. That’s a long couple
of days. But, it’s worth it. My company stepped up to meet the needs of a
customer. Sometimes things don’t always go as planned, and it’s nice to know
that your employer goes above and beyond. Even if that means sending two yahoos
to the Tetons in a van. That’s customer
service.

Also, it’s nice knowing your company stepped up and paid a little extra to get windows
in the side doors of the van so you don’t look so rapey while traveling across
the country.

Ever notice that hotel soap always burns the shit out of your
eyes? I fear washing my face when traveling just because I know it’s going to
feel like a million needles poking my retinas. 

When I wash my face or shower at home, it doesn’t burn my eyes.
Hypothetically it could be a difference in approach to scrubbing my ugly mug.
Maybe I’m subconsciously deliberately rubbing soap directly into my eyes. But I
don’t think so. Which means that it must be a quality-of-the-soap thing. 
  
Begs the question: Just how poor of quality is hotel soap? At
home, I’m not exactly using Fight Club-quality soap rendered from the fat of
liposuction patients. I tend to use Suave or some other generic equivalent that
costs about $3 for a 6-month supply. I know, I know, “Take it easy on the soap
expenditures, Rockefeller.” My eyes never get the awful stingy feeling from
Suave.

Maybe even worse than the pain, it turns your eyes the darkest
possible shade of optical red. Even if you were well behaved the night before it
makes you look like you’ve just completed the sort of bender usually reserved
for your best friend’s wedding or grandpa’s funeral. If your eyes are going to
look like that, you may as well get blasted. Everyone you see the next day assumes
you did, anyway.
 
Of course, there is a treatment for devil-red eyes. Gallons of
Visine. I just pour the stuff in hoping it washes away the
contagious-stage-of-pink-eye look. Maybe that’s what is really going on. Maybe
Visine and the very powerful Hotel/Motel Super PAC are in cahoots. Afterall,
every hotel sells the smallest bottle imaginable of Visine for like $5. Which is
highway robbery.

I guess this is why women tend to travel with all of their own
toiletries. That’s probably the answer. But, doubt I’ll deploy that simple
solution. Instead, I’ll spend the rest of my life swearing like a sailor every
time I wash my face at a hotel. Afterall, I’m a man. And that’s the sort of
stubborn stupidity that defines our very existence.

to check out of the hotel this morning. Walked by a housekeeper who opened a door, peeked inside and said, "OH MY GOD."  Wish I could have caught a glimpse of the room. Housekeepers have seen it all. My imagination runs wild with thoughts of what could shock and awe her.

Working out and staying in shape hasn't been a priority. It's starting to show. Pants are not fitting. Had to buy a new pair. Jen thinks that 34 length (what I've always worn in non-Wrangler jeans) are too long. The net result? For the first time in my life, I'm wider than I am tall. Oof.

About to turn 29. At least there's still time to get the ship turned around before 30.

A quick, early morning glance at the hotel garbage can had me angry for a moment.

Last week I was traveling for work. Each night I stayed at a different hotel in a different town. A bit jaded by a few recent bad hotel experiences, I caught a glimpse of the garbage can below and became instantly irate for a fleeting moment. Thought my room hadn't been cleaned properly and the maid left Trojan wrappers in the garbage can. Good God, if there are still condom wrappers in the garbage, how filthy is the rest of the room? Then I realized they were just the wrappers from the hotel soap that I had used earlier. Crisis averted.

In the self-proclaimed "Water Park Capital of the World" for work, it occured to me that Wisconsin Dells is Las Vegas for kids.

Dells: Pools are the place to be

Vegas: Pools are the place to be

Dells: Faux ancient architectural structures of significance

Vegas: Faux ancient architectural structures of significance

Dells: Nightly performances by crappy magicians

Vegas: Nightly performances by crappy magicians

Women are a lot different than men. Not exactly a revelation, I know.
But these differences become amplified during pregnancy. 

It seems that the instant women find out they are pregnant, the
maternal instinct immediately manifests itself as the dominant natural
life-guiding principle. Now, this is not to say that men don’t also have a
paternal reaction. But, at least for me, it was more of a practical response.
More of an “I’ve got approximately 38 weeks to get my poop in a group before I’m
responsible for another human” mentality. As a result we focus on getting
affairs in order like job security, an adequate and safe roof over the family’s
head, building financial savings and checking on life and health
insurance.

However, I started to notice a change in the 20-week range. An
emotional change whose only externally visual representation was the instinctual
action of shaving in a beard. Granted, I’ve grown beards before. And, honestly,
shaving in the beard was partially motivated by reducing the square inches
needed to be gouged and gashed with the razor during a particularly hectic time
in my life (moving cross country). But, the notion of becoming a dad is what has
motivated me to keep it.

 And, it turns out I’m not alone.  A good friend and newly
expecting mother laughed when I told her about my dad beard. It turns out one of
the early-in-the-pregnancy questions her husband asked was, “Should I grow a
beard?”

Some shoddy-at-best internet research leads me to conclude that this is
not an isolated phenomenon. It turns out that dad beards are a celebrated right
of passage. Dads were the original hipsters. And, dad beards are probably the
only aspect of life where I can best Brad Pitt.

I probably won’t keep the beard for long. And, I may even shave and
regrow it before the baby arrives in July. But I need at least one picture of me
holding the baby with overgrown moppy hair, sporting flannel and displaying a
majestic beard. After all, it’s instinct.

Now, I just need to be patient until dad strength kicks in.

I’m probably long overdue for creating and maintaining a blog. However, I may simply be exhibiting the behavior typical of someone who grew up nearly 100 miles from the nearest stoplight – always five years behind the latest trend.

Though, to soothe the portion of my ego related to “hipness,” I’ve actually dabbled in blogs on several prior occasions. Year ago, I was blogging on a semi-regular basis in the “reader blog” section of onmilwaukee.com. Then, I eventually started personal blogs on several occasions but they never really panned out.

So, what makes it different this time? Well, I’m not sure. But, I do know that I will have a lot of topics to talk about: fatherhood, relationships, family, moving, careers, home ownership, health/fitness, pedal bikes, personal improvement, finances, random observations and more.

To be honest, I don’t know that anyone will actually read this, but I’ll have entertained myself. And, I’ll have semi-chronicled the substantial change in my life's direction. Thus the name of the blog. The direction of my life has certainly deviated. But, I've embraced the change and look forward to all that it brings.

With that, thanks for your time and I hope you stay tuned. Oh, and enjoy this powerful Whitesnake cover...which was apparently filmed with a kaleidoscope.