6 Days in 2025
All the trips and what I learned
Everything in 2025 for me can be classified as before Ash Wednesday and after. That’s because I was relieved of my job on that day, which I wasn't expecting. Yes, that manager whose name I can't remember did me a favor. It was a soul sucking, boring slog every single day that sapped my energy and my will to do anything else. The paycheck is the only thing I remotely miss, and I don't even miss it that much.
Being unemployed gave me the time and brain power to really examine my life, specifically what brings me joy and why. Corporate employment didn't make the list. But traveling did. So, with my income slashed and the world ablaze, I not only hit the road, but I started to think deeper about my travels by writing about them here. Did I learn anything? Let's find out!
Los Angeles is Burning
When I booked my January trip to LA, I had disaster on my mind. Specifically, the inauguration, since I was flying home on January 20. But then a series of out-of-season wildfires tore through Alameda, Malibu, and the Pacific Palisades.
When I was a kid, I was so afraid of fire that my mom decided that I must have died in one in a past life. I'm not much better now, but that didn't stop me from going.
Since the fires didn't directly happen in neighborhoods I frequent, it all felt surreal. Surrounded by the sights and sounds and smells of the city I love, it might have been easy to ignore the unfolding tragedy, but signs appeared in the form of stories:
In Los Feliz, over coffee with a friend who smelled vaguely smoky because he'd spent the day helping pack an art collection at an evacuated home.
Having lunch in Hollywood, a busboy told me about his cousin from Tijuana who runs an animal shelter. He filled his truck bed with live traps, drove up to LA, and helped rescue pets that had been left behind by evacuees.
In Highland Park, volunteering at The Plus Bus sorting mountains of clothing donated for plus-size residents who’d lost everything, and finding a beautiful suit for someone who no longer had a home but had an upcoming job interview.
Life went on, and it was weird. But nothing was as weird as standing in line for a $7 bottle of water at the Burbank airport while watching some tech guy on TV throw a Nazi salute.
Maybe we should let it burn.
Linocuts in Lawrence
Every semester (except the most recent one), I drive to Kansas City, fetch my kid CJ from art school, and take them 45 miles down the road for spa time and a quiet few days away from campus. An hour-long soak in hot mineral water outside in winter air, massages, breathing in the salt closet, hanging in the anti-gravity chair, then spending our time quietly hanging out in a house down the street from where William S. Burroughs lived his last years, remains my favorite trip.
And Then I Got Laid Off. Whee.
Some trips got hastily canceled in the initial panic. Wiser, calmer heads prevailed and told me to slow down and wait. Things might work out …
Tearing Down Institutions with Jack
In the Before Ash Wednesday part of my life, I’d purchased pricy tickets to see Jack White in Chesterfield, Missouri (yeah, St. Louis, sort of) and Kansas City on back-to-back nights. I did the same trip when I was pregnant in 2023, but with a day between shows. And it was summertime with temperatures in the 90s. This should be easy!
Chesterfield, where the venue he played was located, is almost an hour’s drive west from my house. I made plans to crash at a nearby hotel, have brunch with a friend who lives in that area, then hop over to KC, pick up CJ for a quiet weekend in an Airbnb, and then head to Tulsa for a few days.
I felt a little off at the St. Louis show, which I attributed to being on a new medication and the rainy weather. And dizziness, which could have been from the medication or a vestibular migraine. But Jack can make me ignore a lot of maladies. So can running into old friends like Carmen:
As she and I visited, and our group began to grow, I had an uneasy feeling. Not about anyone around me—it had been a long time since I’d been in a group of people at a show, and I was loving being back in my element. I knew something was off.
I excused myself, desperate for the cold, fresh air outside on the drizzly night, and found an empty bench just in time to sit down, turn around, and throw up directly into a bed of petunias that were now fighting for their lives.
“Get it, Girl!” a guy shouted as he walked by.
I dry heaved in response.
Next morning, I was just fine for brunch with Angie. We don’t see each other often. Despite being in the metro St. Louis area, we’re somewhat at opposite east-west ends. But I drive west several times a year, so why not get together? She suggested a lovely spot for brunch and coffee while the rain poured. In a warm, dim dining room with someone I dig—why would I not spend the whole day? Because I would love nothing more than to spend hours at a table with a friend in any weather, but especially when it rains.
I promised myself I would make a habit of stopping to visit again soon. I haven’t.
Anyway, on the way to Kansas City, I realized I wasn’t feeling up for that night’s show. I sold my ticket online while waiting for a latte at a roadside coffeehouse in the middle of nowhere, near where I grew up. From there, CJ and I spent the rainy weekend in our pajamas, recovering from our jobless but exhausting lives.
Next stop—Oklahoma.
Wanna buy me a coffee? I ain’t too proud to beg for one.
Wanna go somewhere? Let me help you plan your trip!
Paris! April! Printemps! First time!