Jason, Leigh, and Kaia's Great Adventure

2006-03-19T21:41:00.000-08:00

Lots and Lots of fun with Lots!!!

So it's done! Jason, Leigh and Kaia's great adventure has found an exciting new destination....a little scrap of red earth nestled between the shadows of Daisy Mountain and Pyramid Peak. It's only 300 feet wide by 165 feet deep, but the potential is limitless. The views seem infinite and if you stop and listen, reach out with your entire body you can feel the earth moving under your feet. The only noises come from the rustling deer grasses stirred by the constant wind that gently sweeps the valley. A great big old windmill turns its lopsided blades embracing the power of the rushing air.

Sometimes I feel haunted by the visions of structures rising out of the ground. Spaces that overwhelm the senses or comfort the spirit. My mind is consumed with the possibilities of a challenging site, unique materials and a set of requirements that only I can envisage a solution for. It’s like living in another universe that only I can see, and when I try to communicate the beauty of the revelation I’ve experienced I am unable to convey the possibilities. This is the consciousness of an architect; one who spends most of his time dwelling on the realm of possibility and fighting the unenlightened to accomplish that dream. I have experienced the realization of these concepts. When you know where every stick of lumber belongs before it’s placed; the required installation of every fastener has been memorized; the feel and texture of finishes are known even before they’ve been ordered. It’s like dejavu or walking through a lucid dreamscape. The subconscious mind has already encountered this reality endless times.

"The mother art is architecture. Without an architecture of our own we have no soul of our own civilization.

Organic architecture seeks superior sense of use and a finer sense of comfort, expressed in organic simplicity.

Buildings, too, are children of Earth and Sun"

Frank Lloyd Wright

2006-01-17T08:53:00.000-08:00

It is everywhere, it is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window, or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work, or when go to church or when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

What truth?

That you are a slave. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind. Unfortunately, no one can be told what it is. You have to see it for yourself. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back.

You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes. Remember -- all I am offering is the truth, nothing more.

_____________________________________________________________________________________
Well everyone….I just took the red pill. Leigh and I made an offer on a one acre parcel of dirt in the foothills north of Phoenix. It was a frustrating process, sorting through the deceptive listings, researching county records and flood maps, trying to realize the vision of my family enjoying a home I designed on this land.

This sprawling metropolis we call the Valley of the Sun was once a city of another sort. The ancient Hohokam Indians once populated this valley in a thriving city of 400,000 people. They learned to live in harmony with nature, moving water through hundreds of miles of canals to irrigate the arid environment. The Native Americans did not believe man could own the land; it was part of the circle of life and should be respected.

So here I am, hundreds of years later, hoping some title company will deem this parcel worthy of my borrowed money, allowing me to indulge in a fantasy few even know exist: building one’s own home, with the freedom to express and break convention. And not just for the sake of appearance, or status, but to look back into the reflections of a culture whose footsteps still lie faintly on these desert sands, paying homage to their hardships and lessons learned over generations. The contractors, design review boards, lending companies, realtors, and accepted standards have no say in what happens here.

I’m searching for the truth, where everything has a purpose and intent; people, actions, objects, and our domain. As the process continues, I will record the progress, the principles of the design, and my reflections here.

Where Will Our Children Live...

A lonesome warrior stands in fear of what the future brings,

he will never hear the beating drums or the songs his brothers sing.

Our many nations once stood tall and ranged from shore to shore

but most are gone and few remain and the buffalo roam no more.

We shared our food and our land and gave with open hearts,

We wanted peace and love and hope, but all were torn apart.

All this was taken because we did not know what the white man had in store,

They killed our people and raped our lands and the buffalo roam no more.

But those of us who still remain hold our heads up high,

and the spirits of the elders flow through us as if they never died.

Our dreams will live on forever and our nations will be reborn,

our bone and beads and feathers all will be proudly worn.

If you listen close you will hear the drums and songs upon the winds,

and inthe distance you will see....the buffalo roam again.

Tommy Flamewalker Manasco

2005-12-15T10:04:00.000-08:00

A Year at Taliesin

I have lived in Arizona for 20 years. When I was 12 years old my parents took me to the Scottsdale Center for the Arts to view an exhibit on Frank Lloyd Wright. I was so infatuated with the visions and ideas before me I stayed until the museum closed, letting my imagination indulge in the fantastic environment presented by the drawings and photographs. From that moment on I knew my calling in life was architecture. Since Mr. Wright was my first introduction to this form of art, philosophy and the built environment I placed his work on a pedestal. When I was informed a few years later about the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture, I knew what my path to the profession of architecture would be. During my studies through high school and undergrad, I kept a close eye on the school, making regular visits to the campus at Taliesin West. I was enamored with the balance of experiential learning and communal living all encompassed in one of Mr. Wrights most ambition works.

During the spring of 2003 I decided the time was finally right to chase after this dream. I had studied architecture as a student at local community colleges as well as Arizona State University. I had 6 years worth of experience working for different architects. Now I would put myself to the test. I applied in May, 2003 and was finally granted an interview in March of 2004. This was a long tedious process, but with the prospect of attending a world renowned innovative architecture college as the outcome, I persevered. During my three day immersive interview as a prospective apprentice, I engaged in all manners of community life, sat in on lectures, attended a filed trip, and participated in studio discussions. Multiple interviews were conducted with the administration (John Wyatt, Jay Pace, and James Scalise) who I came to respect. It was made clear that should I feel I could benefit from the program, I was welcome to join the apprentice population in the fall. The administration admitted me into the Masters of Architecture program under a provision that allowed applicants with exceptional experience to achieve the professional degree without an undergrad degree. That day was April 1st, 2004.

I now had less than six months to make the transition from a full time project manager at a Phoenix based firm, husband, and home owner to a minimal life as a full-time student, numerous community responsibilities, and no income. Only ten days after being accepted into the school, I learned through a newspaper article that many changes were underway at the School. The Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation CEO was asked to leave, multiple faculty members had resigned, and apprentice enrolment eventually plummeted to almost a third of what I had experienced while interviewing.

I contacted the administration, who had also lost staff, and asked what my standing at the school was. They assured me everything would be maintained and I should continue planning on a fall arrival date.

Eventually I bid farewell to my workmates of 6 years, sold my first house, and migrated across town to live and work under the legacy of Frank Lloyd Wright. The married housing provided to my wife and I was in a sorry state of disrepair. Nearly twenty years of remodeling and experimenting by dozens of tenants had left it inhabitable. I made a proposal to the Director of Facilities outlining a budget, time schedule and design concept. After some review it was accepted, allowing for reimbursement of the modest budget; my labor was donated. My first goal was to demolish the interior of the apartment, turning it into a clean slate. It was a great learning experience for me, giving hands on training in electrical, plumbing, framing, drywall, and finish carpentry. When the dust cleared I had created a small oasis of Mid-century modernism within the confines of the 60+ year old organic masterpiece.

While dividing my time between school studies, community work lists, and the construction projects, I received numerous visits from remaining and outgoing apprentices. I received similar warnings from all about the instability of the current administration. I believed the advice didn’t apply to me as I was making a fresh entry and tried to look at the positives. At every step in the education process new ground was being made, replacing departed faculty and developing a new curriculum. Lacking a Dean of Architecture and other core faculty members, the apprentices definitely felt the strain on the school. Eventually news of an unscheduled visit from the Higher Learning Commission rippled through the school. Pressure was placed on the apprentices to document the programs they were enrolled in and shore up the future of the school. After days of interviews, reviews and meetings, the HLC determined there were fundamental deficiencies in the school’s ability to meet the Commision standards.

This eventually led to the exodus of more apprentices and personnel changes in the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation. I began to personally question my future at the school when my advisors and other faculty members began backtracking on the agreement to allow me to earn a Master’s Degree, although all of my mentors and instructors consistently stated that I was performing at the M. Arch level.

During the summer of 2005 my wife gave birth to our first child. It was a magical time for us and dozens of visiting family members to welcome a new member to our family and the Taliesin Community. Unfortunately certain persons involved with the Senior Fellowship took advantage of my temporary absence from the community and destroyed a large metal sculpture I had been working on for nearly six months. No written notice, or even verbal warning was given regarding the destruction of my personal expression and hard work. I immediately contacted advisors and faculty members at both campuses (Spring Green & Scottsdale). A large event in Spring Green, Wisconsin prevented a quick response and lack of faculty in Arizona left me with no options for recourse. I had personal property stolen from my studio space, and eventually my computer was illegally accessed by another apprentice and multiple files stolen. All of these grievances went unanswered by the administration, amongst mine and other apprentices concern for the quality of our education. Eventually during one of my reviews when I asked that the matter of my enrollment in the Master of Architecture program be addressed, the faculty was unable to provide me with a decisive indication of my specific status in the program. With a young family, finances and future of my career at the hands of an under qualified, under staffed, wavering institution whose standards were now under investigation by the accrediting board, I reluctantly withdrew from the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture. Was this the culmination of nearly half a life’s admiration of a great man’s work? Probably the most disappointing aspect of my time as an Apprentice at the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture is that I knew the school had potential for greatness. I had seen it evolve over the years, and experienced it first-hand while interviewing. Most alumni and other associates of the school would probably admit that the school was at its pinnacle under the direction of John Wyatt, Jay Pace and Jim Scalise, excluding of course when Mr. Wright was alive.

When asked weather I regret the year I spent at the unconventional architecture school, I honestly can’t say that I do. I grew as a person, my breadth of knowledge was expanded exponentially, I met many interesting people, and I lived and worked in one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterworks. I just give very little credit to the school for my accomplishments over that year. The environment and circumstances enabled me to develop, not the school itself. Although that is precisely the philosophy of the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture, the organization as it exists now hiders that exploration more than encourages it.

Where do I Belong?

2005-09-15T22:13:00.000-07:00

This has been an interesting summer for me. I’ve become a father, I transitioned from one of the new apprentices to one of the senior apprentices, and I’ve taken one step closer to becoming a registered architect. I read the Whirling Arrow (FLLW newsletter) and see all the activities I’ve missed out on while staying at Taliesin West, but then again, I had the privilege of witnessing the birth of my daughter and first ten weeks of her life. While the campus in Scottsdale is a bit quiet, I’ve been able to focus on my school work without some of the other distractions associated with college life. Speaking of college life, it seems to have always eluded me, or maybe I’ve eluded it. It’s never really appealed to me, the idea of hitting the bar scene, or doing the weekend party hopping. I don’t think I’ve pulled an all-nighter since high-school, and I never had to live in a dorm. But at the same time, I feel I’ve missed out on some of the camaraderie that goes along with the collegiate atmosphere. After all, I’m 27 years old, married and now a father. I’ve made half a decade’s worth of mortgage payments, twice that much time working full time, most of it in the architectural field, and qualify to sit for the Arizona Board of Technical Registration for Architecture; not a typical load of baggage for a college student. I feel this pull to fulfill so many roles. Am I the fun loving architecture student who hangs out in the studio until all hours of the night? Do I get up early to take care of the baby so Leigh gets a couple extra hours of much needed sleep? How much longer can I sit on the sidelines doing fictitious projects, when I’m so anxious to get out into the profession and prove myself? I just have to keep reminding myself, I’m still young and have a long life ahead of me to accomplish my growing list of goals. Maybe I’ll get around to that ‘round the world sailboat trip when I hit 100!

Traditions

2005-09-07T19:57:00.000-07:00

Tonight everyone gathered at Evansville’s social nucleus: Hacienda. I always joke that every time we visit there is always a meeting of friends and family at this crossroad of Mexican culinary delight and Midwest family values. And every meeting is concluded with the traditional sharing of the Mud Slide. This is an ongoing challenge where a steaming skillet of chocolate chip cookie, ice cream, and hot fudge is presented to the bevy of diners, spoons (and sometimes forks) poised to shovel the tasty concoction into their mouths. As if defending foreign soil, utensils clash and froth flies, all in the name of good old fashioned sibling rivalry. The Ritchie kids, all five of them, have been raised in the competitive environment that is a side effect of granting each individual only a 20% stake in the family direction. Sometimes alliances are forged and decisions come easy, while at other times it’s every person for themselves. You’d think these feelings of self preservation would have eased as each of the kids reached adulthood, but the rivalry simply found new outlets over the years.

It’s fun to participate in these inconsequential contests, but soon I realized most are rooted in long family traditions. The mud slide is a great example of this. There are so many family traditions that invoke the spirited combat, but always draw the family closer as well. This idea is so important to a family, and the more members there are to enjoy it, the richer the experience. Here are just a few practiced by the Ritchies:
Tippy Canoe
The heart of the Christmas tree
The “pants”
Donks
Bonfires
Mud Slides
Last touch
Cynthiana stop sign
Washington Airport Weenie Roasts
All night Risk tournaments
Dog Piles
Go to heck

Go to Heck

2005-09-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

Go to Heck

If you’ve never played this game before, you’ve got to try it. Gather a bunch of friends or family. Groups of 4 or more offer more excitement. Then find a deck of cards, a piece of paper and pencil, elect someone to keep score and deal out the cards. This morning, the house was left to the kids (eight + Kaia in all) and it was surprisingly quiet. After a late night round of spirited Monopoly, it seems the gaming carnage had died down after a good night’s sleep. So the suggestion for a round of go to heck was made with the hopes it would heat things up. Only five (all the guys) answered the call to play this spiteful card game, and sure enough, before long losers were complaining and victors were grinning. It seems the two weeks of college has already made a difference as Bobby ran away with the game, nearly achieving a perfect score.

I also had the urge to do a little washing up. The Jeep had been accumulating months of desert dust. It usually gets the warm clean comforts of a garage, but since moving to T. West it has to make do under a shielded canopy. This in combination with the long trip behind the motorhome had enveloped its usually happy disposition under a fine grey mist. So I replaced the top, and gave my big blue friend a good soaking, sudsing and thorough drying, revealing the deep steel blue sheen that first caught my attention when I bought it new.

Next I moved onto my other all-terrain buddy, J.P. He had gone through some pretty rough terrain and undergrowth on the previous day’s hike, so I needed scrub him down before I let him back into the RV. So I got him all soapy too and gave him a good bath. He loved it and didn’t smell as much like a stinky dog anymore.

With everyone feeling so fresh and so clean, we repacked the motorhome for our next leg east, towards Grams house. Craig rode along to get home early and the travelers were off. I was first to spot the arch, and four hours later we rolled onto Rita’s street at dusk. Everyone was happy to see Grandma Ritchie and we made ourselves at home in no time. I’ve got a magic bed with my name on it, so that’s it for today. G’Nite!

Journeys

2005-09-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

Is it really the journey or the destination?

Today I woke up early determined to try my second geocache. I read a description of some of the local offerings, consulted with Bob and the flight charts of the local area, took the top off the dusty Jeep, and gathered anyone willing to go for a little adventure. We ended up with six adults and JP ready to take on the expedition. We looked for a good place to start from the roads, but never managed to get more than 2.5 miles to the target. We looked at the bearing and terrain and decided it was a great day for a hike. So we headed into the woods on this warm Labor day weekend. As the terrain changed and the temperature climbed slightly, about 1 mile in we lost our first traveler, Aunt Ree who was prepared to make camp along the trail and wait for the rest of us to complete the task. We crossed the Little Lost Creek and used this as our guide towards the objective. Another mile and a half and we were in deep forest. A very large hill was before us with another half a mile to go. Billy and Tiffany stayed put while Craig, Bob myself and of course JP forged onward up the very steep hillside. At the top we stayed on the ridge and crossed a clearing with less than a 1000 feet to our destination. Continuing on, now down the other side of the hill, the number steadily decreased until we had reached the zero point marker. Now it was a mater a finding the very well hidden clear plastic container. The footing was very loose and steep and keeping upright was a challenge. About fifteen minutes of overturning rock piles and scouring the earth and spirits were low. I think each one of us felt as if we’d been defeated after such a long hard hike without a sign of the cache. Then as Bob traversed the slope 30 ft downhill from Craig and I, he yelled out “I found it!” We scurried down to look at the very well camouflaged container sheltered against a rock outcropping, and about 90% covered by rocks and vegetation. You have to understand we were in the middle of absolute nowhere, and if we didn’t have the GPS coordinates and the determination to not come back empty handed there would have been no way of finding this site. So with renewed energy and excitement we all peered into the small container sifting through the meaningless contents; a ’57 Chevy Hotwheels, glow in the dark fish, ying yang sign, keychain, golf multi-tool, used lottery ticket, and of course the log book with many signatures and comments from previous cachers. I had pulled a little rubber bouncy ball with a miniature $100 bill from Bobby’s room and now placed it in the container. I signed the guestbook and we replaced the container after removing one small insignificant item; a Dekalb County Police rubber keychain. It was totally fulfilling to have found this place, after so much hard work. Anyone who has experienced a geocache knows it’s absolutely not about what’s inside but the path that takes you hear. We ended up hiking over six miles, barely finding Tiff and Billy on our way back, running through some torturous burning needle plant, nearly running out of water, and just plain wearing ourselves out all for a worthless little trinket? But we DID IT! That’s what was really important.

This really is a perfect example of a lesson I learned about a couple of months ago. Kaia came to us in a very unique and special way. She was perfectly healthy and a very happy baby, but the pregnancy, labor and birthing process was quite a journey for Leigh, myself, and those closest to us. Our daughter is the most important person in our lives and we feel the way we choose to welcome her into this period of her existence is extremely important. What we did learn is that maybe she chooses her path in order to teach us about ourselves. There was so much magic that night and although trivial, this little adventure of ours today is another example how the journey itself often holds more value than the final destination.

Generations

2005-09-02T17:14:00.000-07:00

"Over the river and thru' the woods to Grandpa's house they go, the Fleetwood knows the way to carry Kaia, fortunately there is no white and drifted snow!!"

Here’s a little ditty emailed to me by Aunt ‘Ree thinking about our journey to Grandpa’s house. She along with Uncle Bill have met us here for the annual end of summer gathering that the rest of the family is soon to join in on.
This is one of the few times we’ve been the first to arrive, and the only time we’ve driven here. Usually we arrive via Southwest Airlines and are picked up by the travelers passing through St. Louis. By the time we get there, brothers and sisters, fathers and sons, uncles and nieces are either deep into political, religious, and economic conversation, or just wrestling in the middle of the living room floor! This time was different. The house was, well . . . empty. Only Bob and Diane occupied its walls. Bobby went off to college and with no other visitors due to arrive until Friday night, it was as quiet as the cool, deep acres of Missouri forest surrounding the house. It’s strange to think out of the five children, Leigh and I are the first to become parents. Walking through this empty nest with the baby in my arms seems kind of prophetic. As I walk into Bobby’s room, the room of a boy with dozens of beautiful model airplanes still hanging from the ceiling and numerous Boy Scout paraphernalia on the walls, and think this room belongs to a boy that no longer exists. He’s nearly a man now, off to college and soon to join the exciting rigors of adulthood. I fear that if I blink, this will be my own son or daughter’s room, leaving mom and dad behind to establish their own life in the sometimes hard world. Then I take a deep breath and look down into my precious baby girl’s eyes, feeling her deep love and total reliance on her parents.
It’s only been eight weeks, and it’s incredible how she develops into a little person. Why do the little cooh’s and laughs bring so much joy? Even her tired fits, legs kicking and face scrunched up into a wrinkled little prune are entertaining. What is this indescribable phenomenon welling up inside me? Is it biology, chemistry, genetics? I suppose only another father or mother knows the emotion and it’s simply known as a parent’s love. In all the uncertainty in our future lately, that is the most assured thing in my life. If I could, and had the means to I would probably keep having kids until I couldn’t bend over to pick them up anymore. It is said that when you have more children, the affection is multiplied, not divided. When Kaia is old enough to understand, I’ll just sit her down and say, “Kaia, I love you THIIIIIIIIIS much!” stretching my arms out as wide as they can.

The Sooner Im outta Here

2005-09-01T20:31:00.000-07:00

The "Sooner" I'm outta here the Better

Just a quick post today . . . for many reasons. I spent more than half of my day in Oklahoma, known as "The Sooner State." In order for this territory to establish a population they had to give away free land back in 1889. I'd like to take this time to voice my complaints about the state of Oklahoma. First of all, the most direct rout to anywhere of any interest is a toll road. I don't mind the concept of toll roads so much, but I should at least be given a better product or service for a premium. There's a difference between Brittish Airways and Southwest, Starbucks and Circle K, AJ's and Fry's. Well, apparently the management of the ODOT didn't get this memo and their roads in general suck. I guess technically, the toll roads are an upgrade as they only kinda suck. Second, the drivers here are all suicidal. They’ve got these ingenious on/off ramps that expect you to merge into 70mph (yeah right) traffic in about 80 feet. That’s the length of a semi truck people. It must not be of any concern to these people, because they drift right on over into traffic, not the least bit concerned about the 10 and 15 ton motorhomes and tractor trailers in that lane. My third complaint is that Verizon wireless uses a third party carrier to provide service across this state. Cell service was great, but the data service was not compatible with Verizon’s “Coast to Coast” proprietary connection, thus preventing me from getting my fix of web time needed to post yesterday’s entry.

Off my soapbox now, we did see Price Tower today. It’s always interesting to see another incarnation of Wright’s work. You see a common theme – no that word sounds gimmicky – more a common philosophy embedded in all his buildings. I guess this is part of the puzzle I’m trying to unlock for myself ;-) One observation: some architourist are totally self consumed narrow minded blabbermouths. Part of the whole draw to architectural landmarks, historical or contemporary is to really put yourself inside the building. Experience it as it is meant to be occupied, and feel the functional life of the space. I used my “big” camera for those shots and I’m too tired to process those pics with a sharp eye, so they’ll get uploaded . . . . . . whenever =)

So we rolled our dusty troop onto 24 Cedar Ridge (Bob’s House) just as the sun was setting into the tree covered hills of eastern Missouri (the Show-Me State in case you were wondering) and transferred the survival equipment into the house. When your single, or even a couple that can be as little as an overnight bag. But when you add a baby into the mix, you need an entire truckload of roadies to haul in the “basic” supplies. So we’re finally in a place we’ll be stationary for a few days, and Kaia is getting reacquainted with Grandma and Grandpa Ritchie. I’m really worried this kid isn’t going to get enough attention between her FOUR grandmas and TWO grandpas, and ELEVEN aunts and uncles. I guess that means Leigh and I will have to just love extra hard to make up for it!

The 62mph Lazyboy

2005-09-01T19:13:00.000-07:00

The 62mph Lazyboy

So I recently decided to make a few lifestyle changes. I traded in my contemporary Italian leather furniture for a fifteen year old lazyboy chair. I also swapped out my 30" high definition flat screen LCD TV for a 50 mile wide super bright panoramic widescreen. The chair just happens to have forty feet of motorhome and Jeep trailing behind it, and my screen is of the wind variety. I just watch the wildflowers bending in the breeze. The only structures interupting the flat land are the grain bins and silos, until you reach the eastern half of the Texas panhandle, where a couple dozen enormous wind generators dot the landscape.

This morning we broke camp early and went to the unhappiest place on earth - Wal-Mart. We grabbed a few items we didn't know we needed until we'd spent three days on the road under our belts. Here's a tip, always have a sharpie with you; There's like a million and one uses for one. While we packing the new items into our stash one of the wallyworld boondockers in the parking lot outskirts struck up a conversation. We chatted about our rigs and discussed the effect of gas prices on RVing. It's just my luck that I chose the highest gas prices in the history of America to spend five weeks on the road. Every time I have to pull over and refuel I just think of the price we pay to move about as freedom tax. We live in a safe place where we have the freedoms to roam the country, exploring and experiencing its many wonders. So as the illuminated gas marquees spin to keep up with the latest price hike, I just take my receipt and head back onto the open road.

JP had to make a few sacrifices as well. He had to give up the 600 acres of natural desert sanctuary at Taliesin West in exchange for a million square miles of undiscovered country. He's going to poop in every field, catch every frisbee, sniff out every pile of rotten trash, and explore every playground along the historic route 66, just like his dogfathers before him.

2005-08-30T19:59:00.000-07:00

The Ten Legged Tortoise

Don’t worry . . . toxic waste didn’t spill into the marine biology exhibit at Sea World mutating the turtles. It’s just what I think of myself, cruising the highways of the southwest in my motorhome, towing my Jeep behind. See, there are 10 wheels (legs) on the ground and, well tortoises are those amazing creatures that have the freedom to move about their environment bringing their shelter with them. So we’ve got nearly 700 miles under the treads since we left the Grand Canyon State. By far the hardest leg of our journey was the first one. Leigh and I (but not Kaia thankfully) became sick over the weekend; time I had planned on using to get ready for the trip. Our tasks were reduced to taking care of the baby and sleeping. Monday morning I awoke determined to leave. Still groggy and aching, we managed to pack all of the essentials and tidy up the house before climbing the hill towards Flagstaff. As a coincidence, Monday’s weather was scheduled for record highs, and I didn’t realize until we were in Albuquerque that the combination of 113º heat and running the onboard AC all morning had cooked one of the electrical connections allowing the RV to draw power at campsites. Luckily the generator took care of our power needs. Once we made camp and the baby went down after a generous helping of Mom’s Wonderful Milk, all was peaceful.

Tuesday I awoke early and almost felt whole again, whereas Leigh seemed to be feeling worse. Today’s itinerary was one of the easiest on this leg of our journey, with a short 4 ½ hour trip to Amarillo, Texas. I called ahead to a service center with my problem and they scheduled me for a spot that afternoon. We forged on eastward, enjoying a generous tailwind and the company of a few Swift Semi’s. I went to high school with the Swift owners' kids and the company is based out of Phoenix, so it didn’t make me feel so far from home when I’d tail one of their rigs. We made good time to Amarillo and pulled the whole flying circus into the Custom RV shop. JP introduced himself to all the mechanics and shop employees where we left him while the rest of us (two leggers) unhitched the Jeep and had a hot Cracker Barrel dinner. An hour and only 60 bucks later and my minor electrical problem was good as new. We made camp before sunset and had some time to call the family members waiting our arrival and checking our progress. I’ve even managed to find a few moments to jot down some info in my blog!

So now you can tell all your friends that you’ve seen a ten legged tortoise!

Learn all about Real Tortoises. Take one look at the photo gallery and tell me you too don't love turtles!

Learn all about the State Nicknames

2005-08-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

Smoothie Size Me

The months before our little star descended from the universe to bless us with her presence, I decided it was time to smooth out a few rough edges in my lifestyle. On the top of the list was my diet. With a challenging work & school schedule Leigh and I had slipped into the common habit of grabbing a bite at the drive through once or twice a week. The fast food phenomenon is quite curious really. You drive your car up to a little box, talk to a fuzzy sounding teenager and greasy food pops out of a window two minutes later. Talk about a society dependent on instant gratification! Well, every time I enjoyed these burgers in a box I knew I was hurting more than myself. I was afraid if we set up this pattern of behavior for ourselves, then we would certainly impose it on our children as well. This has got to stop. I decided I would mark my line in the sand here and now, and I had a secret weapon. My advocate's name was Morgan Spurlock. Some of you may know him as the producer of 30 days, but I was more interested in his earlier work, Supersize Me. Leigh, Rita and I all gathered for a screening of his eye opening documentary. It was just the reminder we needed to drop the take-out dependency. 6 weeks later, and I've got to admit, it just feels so much better to drive by those franchise food factories without a craving. And I soon realized although is seems convenient to drive-through, it actually takes more time and energy compared to opening the fridge, gathering a few ingredients and boiling some water. Plus food you've prepared ALWAYS tastes better.

Well, at this point you're probably wondering what any of this has to do with smoothies, right? There seems to be one small side effect to dropping junk-food cold turkey: I have a craving for blended fruit drinks every few days. Leigh seems to have avoided this, but I have a suspicion it's due to her regular injections - er ingestion of chocolate which I don't share a passion for. So after a couple of trips to JambaJuice I realized there was a more economical way to satiate my hunger and have fun too. So on my next unavoidable outing to the UN-happiest place on earth Wal-Mart, I shopped the small appliances isle for a blender. When I arrived home with new toy in hand I scoured as many fruits as I could to toss into the machine.
What fun to prepare all of these wonderful fresh fruits for liquification. Other than a little sherbet ice cream, there is no artificial sugar added, and what a treat it makes! So far I've thrown in bananas, strawberries, pineapple, oranges, lemons, ice cream, and ice with different proportions. I'm also going to try carrots, lime, and just about any other fruit I can get my hands on. I got a suggestion from a friend to freeze some of the fruit before blending for a different texture. So now I've extended an open invitation to all my friends to stop by anytime and bring something interesting to toss into my blender for a smoothie and good conversation.

2005-08-01T21:52:00.000-07:00

How many times are you stopping???

Well, I'm finally getting all the puzzle pieces scattered about onto the dining room table, and the trip schedule is taking shape. I started with the edges and this happens to be all the places we've got to get to see the relatives and friends on the way. Here's a quick rundown of most of the cast of characters we'll encounter on our journey: Grandpa & Grandma Ritchie, Grams Ritchie, Uncle Craig & Robin, Uncle Billy & Tiffany, Grandpa and Grandma Steele, Great Grandma Routt, Uncle Bobby & Pam Steele, Aunt Kate & Uncle Jeff, Aunt Megan & Uncle Rick, The entire Taliesin family, and lots of nice people we don't even know yet!

So here's the general idea laid out as a day by day itinerary:
Day 1:
Roll out of Taliesin West for Albuquerque, New Mexico. This is one of the longer driving days, but I'll be fresh and anxious to go. Distance driving is 474 miles at around 7hrs 43 mins.
Day 2:
Next Stop, Amarillo, Texas. Not much of interest here (that I know of anyway) and it's a rather short drive to get here, only 286 miles at 5hrs 8mins on the road.
Day 3:
Catoosa, Oklahoma will welcome us for the night, requiring only 6 hrs and 41 mins to travel the 371 miles from the Lone Star State.
Day 4:
As we head for the first big destination Warrenton, Missouri, we'll detour slightly towards Bartlesville, Oklahoma to visit the Price Towers designed by Mr. Wright.
Day 5 through 9:
A nice relaxing time to stay in one place at Grandma and Grandpa Ritchie's with the rest of the clan coming over for a weekend gathering. There's a summer ritual that has been a tradition for as long as I've been included in this family called "Tippy Canoe". It involves getting the entire family on a natural body of water in some sort of vessel. In years past it's ranged from camping, canoeing, cabins, jetskis, boating, sking, hiking, and just plain good times. There is a very complicated equation to consider when combing these elements together. This year will be my 10th participating with the tradition and I think I've finally perfected the equation:

Let's first determine the constants:
Bw = Body of Water
Wq = Water Quality (ie the muckier the better)
Ba = Area of Boat
Rb = Number of Ritchie's in Boat
CR = Collisions & Rammings
Tp = Tippings or sinkings
Wf = Water Fight
Mf = Muck Flinging
Of = Oar Fencing
Cf = Coefficient of FUN

If we’re feeling adventurous the Kraus House is located in Kirkwood, Missouri near St. Louis.
Day 10 - 13:
It’s across southern Illinois and into Evansville, IN where Grams (Rita) can’t wait to see her little sugar plum again. The trip wouldn’t be complete without a trip to Hacienda and a fight over a MUDSLIDE!!!! Uncles Craig & Billy will get to spoil Kaia like any good uncle does. Undoubtedly lots of the Eville (not evil) crowd will crowd around the little tater tot in Mom’s old stomping grounds.
Day 14 - 17:
Third time grandparents Dale and Betty Joe will welcome the first visiting grandchild into their Charlestown home. There will be lots of loving, including an energetic reunion of good buddies Heidi & JP.
Day 18:
We forge deeper into Hoosier country where the history runs very deep. Great Grandma Routt will host the travelers in her home in Cloverdale, Indiana. Some of the locals of these parts know that BOTH Jason & Leigh’s family trees are deeply rooted in this little town. Some even worry if there’s no fork in this family tree at all!!! The genealogy of either of these families would take up a whole blog by itself, so I’ll leave that story for another time.
Day 19:
A place near and dear to me, Pittsboro, Indiana. This is where my Uncle Bobby Steele and his family live. They’re like a second family to me. When I was 18 with a freshly printed high school diploma under my arm, I migrated half way across the country in hopes of attending Ball State University. They opened their arms to me, allowed me to live in their home and helped me find work in the small community. It was a great summer but residency in my home state was not to be and I returned home to the desert to attend college.
Day 20:
Go West young man . . . . just not very far, to Bloomington / Normal, Illinois. Kate and first time Uncle Jeff Mehne await the arrival of the caravanning family.
Day 21:
A stop in Peoria, Illinois brings us to the powerhouse attorney couple Megan and Rick Russo. Great friends with lots in common; we hope to make near neighbors of them when we relocate to Chicago.
Day 22 - 24:
A few days R&R in the windy city. Maybe we’ll take the dog to one of the many beautiful sandy beaches. There are plenty of Frank Lloyd Wright buildings to visit among other architectural points of interest.
Day 25 – 30:
Frank Lloyd Wright built a place to retreat the rigors of city living in Spring Green, Wisconsin where his family first migrated to America From Whales. It is a testament to his genius and a place with great spirituality. The Fellowship still exists there today and the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture spends May through October there studying, working, and participating in the quiet communal life Mr. & Mrs. Wright Establish generations ago. I have yet to visit this monumental piece of the Wright biography, but am looking forward to being integrated into the living culture for a few days.

Day 31:
Now it’s time to follow the setting sun back to our warm abode in the desert. First stop Adel, Iowa. On the way Quasqueton has the Walter House “Cedar Rock”.
Day 32:
We’ll set up camp in Gothenburg, Nebraska for the night.
Day 33:
In the High Country of Colorado we’ll stay in Estes Park, Colorado taking time to explore the Rocky Mountain National Park and nearby Boulder.
Day 34:
And now retracing our steps we’ll be resting in Albuquerque, New Mexico before seting out to our final destination of…
Day 35:
Scottsdale, AZ Taliesin West

2005-07-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

The Adventure of a Lifetime

(parenthood that is)

July 31st and our baby girl is almost a month old. My name is Jason and I am an architecture student at the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture. My wife Leigh and I just experienced the wonderful journey of the pregnancy and birth of our daughter Kaia Mrain Steele. With family, friends and the sister camups to my school scattered about the midwest, we concocted the crazy idea of travelling half way accross the country and back making over a dozen stops to introduce the baby to her numerous fans. Leigh and I are pretty good at packing light. We rarely check bags when flying and on camping and hiking trips, we're prepared but never weighted down with extras. So before the baby came, we started talking about our great american trek, hoping we could arrange all the nececities into our small fuel efficent Mazda3. About six weeks prior to the due date, we headed west for San Diego. Another member of our family we haven't mentioned yet, is our nearly 100lb yellow lab "JP". He goes everywhere with us, and this trip was just as much for him as it was for us. With a light weekend suitcase packed and all the dog accessories, we made it to California and back with no trouble and had a great time while there. The one thing we realized was that travelling for 5 weeks with a baby, large dog, and all the supplies associated with those two passengers was impossible in the small car. The next step up was a SUV (similar the type we JUST traded for the Mazda), but even with the added space, there would still be expense for hotels. That's when I remembered back to the golden days of my childhood, crusing through the southwest in the cockpit of Grandma and Grandpa's motorhome. They always prefered Class C's, the kind with the overhead bunk, and this was the best place to sit as a kid. You had the feeling of flying looking out those forward windows high above the roads speeding by. RV's seem to be the ideal way to experience this great land of ours, packing only what you need and motoring along the countryside. So with the mode of transport decided, it was time to find our chariot. When I was older Leigh and I organized a trip to Lake Powell in the RV that had been passed down to my mom. It was a great trip, uniting the family and giving us all a needed break from the AZ summer. After that fateful trip, it left the family and we never saw it again. It turns out, Grandma's coach was a bit of a rarity. It is whats known as a "party" model with no formal bedroom in favor of an open floorplan. This allows more space for living without dedicating so much area to sleeping. I hunted far and wide, until I finally found the "one" with the mechanical history and amenities I wanted. It's a 1990 Fleetwood Tioga 26R, powered by a Ford 460 Fuel Injected motor and overdrive transmission.

Stay tuned for the planned trip route, schedule and points of interest.