A Voracious Read

Yesterday I was remiss in completing any of my domestic duties, except for the preparation of a fine meal for Gerry, who deserves better than a sandwich for all of his hard work. There was no laundry done, no sweeping, vacuuming, exercise, blogging... and even poor Otis was left to his own meditative state. I promised myself when I bought the new Dan Brown novel, " The Lost Symbol" that I would read it slowly and savor his suspense, style, brilliant research, and intrigue... but noo, it was not possible. I sat in my bathrobe and read it until reaching the fabulous conclusion. Don't worry, I will not disclose anything plot related... as a matter of fact, I cannot. Once I read a book, although I enjoy it immensely I cannot relay the details of what I just read. I usually forget the names of main characters, and I find that I can't articulate the progression of the story with any semblance of linear thought (probably why I scored miserably on my SAT's, although I was a good student). But this story so touched the core of my belief system that I can't stop thinking about it. It is not just a great suspense thriller, but also a thought changing miracle of sorts, worthy of a second read. I always feel a little sad when I finnish a book that is so compelling that it transports me right out of my own little world into an alternate reality. Books are a great escape for me, always have been, but this one takes the prize... I can't stop thinking about it. I know there will probably be a movie in the future, but just as I loved the Da Vinci Code... I couldn't stand the thought of Hollywood competing with my own imagination. So today while I'm catching up on my mundane chores, I will be sneaking moments to reread snippets of this truly amazing novel.

My Baby's Shower

Saturday was my daughter's baby shower hosted by her mother and sister in law, Pat and Kim. Tara doesn't like surprises and so she was able to give input and watch as we prepared the festivities. It was a good day for her and I was glad because she has still been having trouble with morning sickness and light headedness. I got up early to make her favorite Swedish meatballs.. 120 in all. Thank goodness for the melon baller that kept them uniform and also kept my hands from touching the sticky mixture. I chilled some red, white, and blush wine for the attendants... a brand called Barefoot... which featured a baby's footprint on the labels. Then I headed to Cosco for the carrot cake and the shrimp platter... what a nice job they did with that! It was inexpensive as well as convenient! I cried a little writing the note on Tara's card, as I tied the message to her gifts. One was a treasured music box that shows a young mother holding a baby in her arms and behind her dress is a little girl. The song is "Turn Around" and the lyrics (which I printed) talk about babies growing up and when you turn around they are having their own babies... of course the lyrics are more touching than that. When my mom presented the identical music boxes to my sister Bonnie and I one Christmas after our daughters were born, we both went into instant tears upon opening our gifts. Tara was touched as well, and I'm glad she didn't read her card at the shower as it was personal. I also found a frilly rosebud dress so similar to the one that my mom Wiggy bought for Tara's christening. My mom wanted to be sure Tara was going to be a girly girl to offset the other grandma's choice of "tomboy" clothes... overalls and boys tee shirts. Though Tara likes to dress up, she is not one for frilly clothes... if I get my way, Annabel will be outfitted in frilly clothes befitting a fairy princess! Pat brought a chicken salad wrap platter, cold cuts and rolls. She also made a punch with Hawaiian punch, Sprite, and orange sherbet which was delicious and reminded me of the punch I drank as a child at a relative's home. Pat's friends made pasta salad, coleslaw, potato salad, and homemade cookies. Kim arranged some amusing games like baby trivia facts, pin the pacifier on the baby, and guess the girth of the mom to be. We all had to estimate with plastic ribbon Tara's true size. Pat's mom won with a perfect measurement! Tara got great gifts, but more importantly, all the ladies there seemed to have a special admiration for my lovely daughter. There was plenty of good natured female banter and lots of laughs! I am so grateful to Pat and Kim, and Gerry's daughter Erica for putting such time and effort into a splendid celebration.

Pedestrians Have the Right of Way

It was a soft autumn day this morning, and after a bit a gray covered sunrise, the low lying clouds parted and the sun came out. It seemed a nice morning to take a Nature walk around the block. As I strode past the dew covered grass that scintillated under the sun, I caught a glimpse of my shadow stridently walking beside me. It was a comfort, but made me laugh with the crazy arm swinging that was going on... OK this was an exercise walk today. When I came to a busy intersection I had to wait at the corner as a parade of cars rode by going much faster than the 25 MPH speed limit and the faces of intent thought let me know that these were probably people on their way to work. I patiently waited until all cars went by and then signaled the turning ones to go ahead of me. I thought about the first time I visited Vermont, back in the late 70's, when all a person had to do was step off a curb and the traffic would instantly stop and let the pedestrian cross, whether it was at a cross walk or not. There were no dismayed glances from the drivers, just a natural stopping and everyone participated. I also thought about the Via Vieto in Italy where the motorbikes whizzed by at incredible speeds and no one would stop until you bravely walked out into the street... then everyone on bike came to a screeching halt. It was very intimidating for us tourists. But NJ has had a law that drivers must yield to pedestrians at crosswalks, and yet what I have experienced is that unless there is a sign posted in the middle of the road, or if a crossing guard present, most people just ignore the law. I know sometimes it's hard to tell whether a pedestrian is just standing at a corner or has a need to cross, sometimes if someone is making a turn, the rear driver's view is obscured and they might not see a pedestrian... it's happened to me as a driver. But when you are marching in place, with arms swinging , looking right and left from the cross walk before you and not one in ten cars stops to let you cross... well, I guess here in NJ people probably feel the crosswalk law is just a optional courtesy. The impact of the law has not really taken hold as yet.

A Suspicious Surveillance

I have a good imagination and a pretty good sense of intuition about things (I actually predicted the economic shambles we are in about 5 years ago) and so when I went to the store to pick up a couple of packs of cigarettes, I was astounded to find out that now the Pathmark is required to ask for ID from those buying cigarettes (which are under lock and key) but they also must type in your birthday in order to complete the purchase. At first the thought of being ID'd kind of tickled my sense of vanity... then reality set in as there is no possible world where I would pass for the under eighteen crowd. The checkout woman seemed flustered with the system and had a hard time finding my birthdate (even with her glasses on, to which I could relate) and her register would not let the transaction complete. It wasn't until she realized that she kept entering the issue date instead of the birth date did the register settle down and permitted the purchase. Have things gotten so ridiculous that a 52 year old, or a 70 year old person needs to prove they are not a teenager, or is something else going on here? Mmmnnn, my mind was curious, my imagination piqued, and then my anger flared up. I was careful not to upset the clerk any more than she already was and so I kept my sarcastic comments to myself. Perhaps, this is some new form of surveillance, a big brother ploy to track the smokers, collect the data of their habits, and then sell the information. Who would care, you might ask? Well insurance companies would care and could very well put those small print disclaimers on policies canceling any payment for illnesses that could be carcinogen related. Or wouldn't the tobacco companies love that information, so they could send mailed, targeted coupons and rebates to their valued customers, after all if you are buying, wouldn't you buy more in this economy if you got a break? Prospective employers would love to know who the smokers are, so as to put them low on the list of employment candidates, and just think of all the character reference information that could be exposed... "sorry coach, you can't work with kids as we know you are a closet smoker"... you see where I'm going here. Now I can understand the ID law for young people and if I were 20 I wouldn't mind being carded, but a mandated collection of one's personal ID when it is obvious as to one's age in decades is obviously a ridiculous waste of time and money... and at worst a sinister theft of identity.

Bring on the Shower

Last night I met with my daughter Tara's mother-in-law so we could discuss the baby shower planned for Saturday. We had a lovely dinner and when the listing of to do's was compared and delivered we settled in for a nice walk down memory lane to talk about our two children who are to become proud parents in November. Both Tara and Chris were the ideal babies... hardly ever crying or fussing, and as both grew to be toddlers they were loving and kind to their younger siblings. We both know they will be terrific parents. I'm very glad that this shower is not a surprise because I needed Tara's advice on what cake to order, what appetizers to prepare... I've become a bit of a scatterbrain lately (though the truth be told, I've never been a great organizer of events.) So, after my motherly inquiry this morning I was off and running to get my errands done. There were plates and tableware to buy, I was making good headway at Cosco until I realized that the cake I thought I would order only had buttercream frosting, and Tara doesn't like it. Luckily I had my new cell phone, and was able to call her at work to get permission for an alternate cake combo.. frosting should go with the cake and the filling is important too. I ordered my shrimp party platter, after establishing (with Tara) that pregnant women can eat shrimp... no sushi, shellfish, raw lettuce, cold cuts, soft cheeses... the list goes on... I wonder how my kids survived, there were no rules back then. If you ate or drank something wrong you got sick... end of story. As I stood in line at Cosco going over my next set of errands, I saw a woman about my age talking to a little cherub faced girl who sat in her basket. She was obviously a grandma, as I would soon be, and suddenly my eyes filled with tears and I had an emotional moment. I tried to distract myself by thinking of Gerry's humorous comment to me when we visit Cosco on Saturday's... Wen, do you want your usual dozen churros? knowing full well that I don't eat fried, doughy, sweet food. It didn't work, and the tears rolled down my face while I thought of my beautiful baby girl all grown up and ready for motherhood. I feigned a yawn and quickly wiped my face. Next stop, Babies R Us to check the progress of her registry... I'm a nosy bird. All was well as there were only a few pages of non-essential items left (my gift was already thought of well in advance), but it took me 20 minutes to choose an appropriate gift bag for my gift... decisions, decisions. Then it was off to buy wine, and since I am not a wine drinker and have no clue what ladies sip at the noonday hour... that took 20 minutes to decide as well. That done, I raced in my little redwing car to the card store and spent another 20 minutes searching for the perfect card, while avoiding anything laced with too much sentiment... I'll write my own when I could let loose some tears at home. As I headed home a terrible thought hit me... the greeting on the ordered cake, I was not sure of the spelling of my Grandbaby's name. I know her middle name will be the same as Tara's and my own... Lee, and I was so thrilled about that I never inquired as to the spelling of the first name. How could I find out without calling my daughter and probably frustrating her with yet another inquiry, especially one I should have known. Think... and then it hit me. Chris is on Facebook, and I was hoping in his excitement for the upcoming event there might be mention of the name I knew so well. Bingo... it was there on his wall for all the world to see. Annabel... the most beautiful name to me right now. I headed back to Cosco to change the spelling on the order... as I spelled it as Annabelle. Perhaps, it was a sub-conscious message as Tara's nickname has always been 'Beauty' and 'Belle' means the same thing in French. My deed corrected, I am now prepared for my role at the shower and I hope I can attend without an over-emotional cloudburst of tears... joyful, sentimental, tears..., if not... well it's not called a shower for nothing.

The Vast Beauty of the Grand Canyon

I'm not one for crowds of tourists, especially when I am admiring a natural beauty such as the Grand Canyon in AZ. I need time and quiet to take my pictures so I walked a bit away from the crowds and found my own ledge to view from. There were no fences or rails and I think Gerry might have been momentarily worried when I turned around and waved at him to take my picture on the jutting piece of rock on which I stood. The drop was steep, but as someone who is not bothered by heights... it was exciting as well. As I stood and gazed at the wondrous shades, colors, and patterns of the canyon, I knew it would be of little value snapping hundreds of pictures. There is no camera (or at least one I could afford) that could ever do justice to the spectacular splendor that lay before me in three D delight. I was content to watch a condor circle the air currents overhead and then below and it was amazing how utterly quiet my surroundings were... as no one followed me. And so I just stood there for many many minutes, mesmerized and alone with my thoughts, wishing I could fly as well... until Gerry found me. He was able to spend time alone in reverence from his viewing spot closer to the tourists (he is not a fan of heights, as he gets vertigo) but I thought he took a nice photo of me and my shadow up there on the ledge. Often we have joked that if life on the road gets too tough we will do a "Thelma and Louise" flight in the Eurovan over the canyon. But from the look on Gerry's face at the edge, I don't think we have to worry about that... as long as he is driving.

A Return Trip to Miami

So our youngest was safely delivered to his new home after a day's delay in OK and we needed to get back to NJ so Gerry could resume work at his new job. We stayed overnight and slept on Colin's floor for three nights, which wouldn't have been so bad, but I forgot we were in a city and so on the second night, I was awakened by the drone of a nearby helicopter and a loud voice from a megaphone, stating "come out with your hand up, the house is surrounded, we will let the police dogs in and you may be bitten." Now Gerry and I are not city people and although this bank robber suspect was within close vicinity to Colin's apartment, we went running out into the night air to see what was going on (not smart, I know, as there could have been gunfire). But it all resolved and that was the extent of big city excitement. We shoved off and were able to see the Hoover Dam which is an engineering marvel, and then spent a few hours at the Grand Canyon which is more spectacular than my photos could ever depict. Our biggest thrill however was returning to little Miami, OK to return a copper bracelet to our friend Justin, and to say hi to our new friends there. We walked into Boomers Bar at 8:30 that night and had just missed Justin and Dee who had previously left. It was a whole new crowd of people and we instantly struck up a conversation with Sonny (a 72 year old Native American who loves John Bonjovi) and his wife Karen who giggled as I relayed the story of a cigarette ash burning a clump of hair off the top of my head giving me a mini mullet (true story). It was karaoke night and soon a small crowd wandered in as Christa our bartender told us we couldn't leave because some of the local talent was coming in to sing. She actually got the ball rolling with Stevie Nick's Landslide (one of my favorites) and she did a great job, as she shyly sang from behind the bar. We were treated to a version of "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin by an unassuming guy in a baseball cap that was spot on perfect, and he humorously altered the lyrics a bit to suit his own angst. Then there was an older Cherokee woman who set up a makeshift jewelry display right on the bar (I had to buy a beautiful necklace for $10) and then sang a stirring country song whose title I did not catch. You could see by the hardened lines on her face that she probably lived through the heartbreak that she sang about. There was a young woman ( the house diva) who belted out the Melissa Etheridge song, "I'm the Only One" and brought the house down. Another older woman (about my age) sang a beautiful country song and sounded just like Patsy Cline, and when we were leaving she yelled to us, "where are you going, "I'm going to do a Patsy Cline hit next." There was a young 20 something who got up and did a great version of "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes and everyone couldn't help but chime in... though no one could belt it out over her voice.. it was electrifying. There were singers of all ages, sizes, genders, and the songs that they chose were as diverse as the people singing them. For some reason I thought it would be all country music, but I was surprised that it was not (another stereotypical thought dispelled). There was even a doo-wop song just for Gerry... called... angel something, and he sang along with gusto... so you know we felt comfortable there! I have never seen such talent, such fun, and such camaraderie at a karaoke venue.. there were no egos present, only a warm bunch of people out for a good time. Once we are on the road for good, I know we will be back at Boomers, so maybe I should practice up a song for karaoke night. Ya never know.

The Doll Head Haunt

So we broke down in Miami OK, and Gerry rode to Joplin, MO to get a rental van that would allow us to continue the trip, while Colin and I had a breakfast at the Great Western Restaurant and wondered, what now? I heard about the Indian run casino some two miles up the road and thought, well, maybe a meander to check it out was in order. The alternative was watching mindless TV in the hotel room... not a good option for someone who hates mindless TV. We strode down the sidewalk-less stretch of Route 10, him with his hand pulled suitcase, me with my old Canon rebel camera around my neck, and tried to ignore the signs of a troubled despair of a town that seemed abandoned and foreclosed in the heat of the midmorning sun. We saw the white of the old white grainaries ahead of us as we walked, and joked that we were going to Oz to see the wizard. What would I ask for and what would he? was left unspoken between us. We got to the Stables Casino, but not before seeing the macabre sight of a doll's head lying amongst the litter of the sleepy town. I had to get a shot of the carnage, as Colin urged me to use caution, as pick-up trucks were flying down the road and would have hit me as I shot my picture of horror. We went in the casino and pumped change into the glitzy slot machines until it bored us to tears; we got a free lunch as there was a mix-up in the kitchen that only had to serve lunch to the two of us, and then we started the lonely trek away from Oz. We laughed and joked and in our imagination we were an unlikely pair of drifters in a Steven King novel... what if we walked and did not find our motel, what if this was our destiny to drift and try to laugh in the desolate landscape where decapitated doll heads smiled in the debris of the roadside?... I had to contain my macabre imagination as Colin doesn't really know me beyond the love of a mom that he will not refer to as "step." We meandered back to the hotel to meet Gerry and our new ride, and I suddenly felt old as the young passerby females, in Neons and Mustangs, looked in awe at Colin's movie star looks, and then disgustedly glanced at me, an older woman companion who had no business in the company of this young and hopeful man. Silently we walked side by side as weary travelers, knowing we made the most of this unforeseen delay.

Dining on the Road

Our trip out West did not feature the usual epicurean adventures that we cherish whenever we are on vacation. Instead this trip was one of a timed determination to get Colin to his new home as quickly and efficiently as possible., and then to return in time for Gerry to get back to work. Most of the food we ate ( as I had guessed) was taken as a quick scoff at the all too familiar logos that loomed from the Interstate and were printed on signs prior to the exits that featured small towns. I'm a big fan of breakfast and luckily most of the motels we stayed at featured some kind of breakfast... mostly continental. I did have a disappointed stab at biscuits and gravy at an Econolodge, which tasted mostly like cold cardboard and glue (I thought there was supposed to be sausage in the gravy?) On a few occasions, breakfast was a packaged bear claw or other sweet confection and a large coffee purchased at the convenience stores that lead us west. I got a little more excited at lunchtime when we stopped at Subway or Quiznos, only because I was able to have a salad which seemed a bit healthier than greasy fast food. By dinnertime, we were often so hungry and tired from sitting all day that it didn't matter what we ate. McDonalds or Wendys seemed to be the logical choices along a stretch of road that wasn't geared for vacationers, but rather folks just passing through as quickly as possible. There was a lunch at a Stuckey's which featured popcorn chicken and fries and mostly I drank Mountain Dew soda to keep myself alert in the face of the hours of driving we all had to share. But once we got to San Diego, we did have a nice meal at a Spanish restaurant with tapas, and a nice big platter of paella... just fabulous. We walked to the restaurant which was about a mile from Colin's apartment and the walking did a lot to stimulate our appetites. It was also great to finally have some cold imported beer with dinner, as that is not something you do when your're on the road. When the waiter offered us dessert, Gerry made the sweetest compliment to me in decline... it made me blush. That comment will be savored forever! The next night after visiting the beach, we had a dinner at a pub where we sat outside on a porch to enjoy the sights and sounds of San Diego at night. I ordered a steak, baked potato, and a caesar salad, and after all those days trying to be creative with the fast food options, it tasted like heaven. But my favorite places to eat resided on old Route 66, as we made our way back home. First, their was a little rib joint about an hour from the Grand Canyon. I think Buffalo Pointe was the name. We had the best (and only) smoked beef ribs I ever had. My jaw dropped when this Fred Flintstone hunk of ribs was brought to the table. I only ordered three and thought it would be a ladylike portion... who knew cows were so big? I sucked all but one bone clean. It was served with kidney beans in a fine broth with peppers and onion and was just delicious. The coleslaw was tart with just a hint of sweetness and not too much mayonnaise... perfect, cause I am real fussy when it comes to mayo based salads. There was even two guys playing some fine bluesy music with a guitar and drum at the entrance... dinner and a show. It started to feel like vacation. We also had a breakfast at the Route 66 diner in Santa Rosa, NM and it did not disappoint. The place looked like it hadn't changed much from the 50's, with lots of decorations and memorabilia, but it was charming and clean, the service was quick and courteous, and everything was cooked to perfection. Gerry said it was the best omelette he ever had, and I was so satiated I did not dispute the claim. I can't wait to go back on the road, to drive along the full stretch of Route 66 and sample all the local cooking. We had just a small taste and there is plenty more road to cover there.

Oklahoma is OK by me!

It is always a pleasant surprise when an experience that is first seen as a disaster turns into one that becomes a cherished memory. Such is the case when our car broke down in Miami, OK just two days into our cross country adventure. Low on gas in the mid-afternoon, we coasted into one of those off the Interstate gas stations that sport a convenience store where the inevitable bathroom and junk food pit stop occur. It was my turn to drive, and as I backed the car out of the parking spot, it stalled and would not start again. At first I thought it was because I was a little rusty driving a clutch car... and so Gerry and Colin both took over to confirm that it wasn't my driving, it was something way more serious. Within minutes, a kind stranger asked if we needed any help and gave us the name of the local mechanics who might be of help the next day. They were currently out racing cars, as it was a Sunday, but he said they were nice fellows who would help us out. His wife even offered the use of her daughter's name (who was good friends with the young racing crew), just so she was sure we would be taken care of properly. Other local residents stopped to ask if we needed help with the use of their cell phone or information about the town in which we were stranded. Luckily, there was a Great Western motel adjacent to the gas station which had a little bar called Boomers and a restaurant attached to it. The three of us pushed the car from the convenience store into the motel parking lot and while Gerry read the manual and Colin tried to start the engine, a thin man in a straw hat and carrying a banana bread strolled over and asked if we needed help. Being from NJ and a bit suspicious of strangers, I nervously offered that our car broke down. He looked under the hood and strolled back to his car to get a wrench so we could disconnect the battery for a few minutes and reconnect it to see if that would do the trick. When it didn't and the tow truck from AAA showed up to tell us that it would be better for us to wait until the next day to tow our car to the dealership in Joplin MO (26 miles away), Justin, the hatted stranger invited us to come have drinks at the bar. He let us know that he was trading a fresh baked banana bread for a gin and tonic. We got us a couple of rooms in the motel and then entered the small local bar which featured guitars and memorabilia from famous celebrities. The few patrons that were there listened to our story and assured us that we would be taken care of properly. Then as if we were old friends, they shared stories, jokes, and laughter with us for the next several hours. Before long the little bar was alive with a boisterous and friendly atmosphere that took us away from the sting of the breakdown... and a heck of a good time! We met Dee who was an 82 year old WWII vet who traded facetious banter with Justin (the straw hatted cowboy) who drove cattle along the entire American continent for a living. At one point Justin took the copper bracelet that he claimed was too small for him and gave it to me for my own complaint of arthritis. I assured him I would find him one that fit him on our travels and present it to him on our return trip (which I did). You could tell that even as the locals exchanged verbal barbs, they had a deep respect for one another and the town in which they lived. The bartender Karen who was originally from California, told us jokingly we'd better run for our lives, as this was a place that once you come to... you never leave. She then presented us with Boomers tee shirts and introduced us to her daughter Christa, who took over as the night bartender. After many hours of laughing and drinking with our new found friends we headed home to our rooms, sorry that we broke down and lost a day, but somehow thankful that it couldn't have happened in a better place surrounded by such a warm group of people.

Home Again!

Well it seems like ages since I last sat down at my computer to post, but after a day and a half of laundry, housework, uploading photos, and digesting the the road trip across America and back... here I am, excited to be reconnecting with my friends and family. What a wonderful trek it was, the scenery along the Interstate across NJ, PA, WV, OH, IL, IN, MO, OK, TX, NM, AZ to CA was incredible to say the least. I have taken about 400 photos, but because we rarely stopped, many of them were taken through the car window at the average cruising speed of 75 MPH (most of it legal). We had one little snafu on Sunday (day 2) when our car broke down in a small town off I-44 called Miami (pronounced Me-ama) and would not start again. Some computer chip to the fuel pump burnt out and so poor Gerry spent a day at the nearest Subaru dealership while Colin and I ambled to the nearest casino to lose some cash... hey we had to do something! As it turned out I am glad we broke down in that little town because we met the absolute friendliest people in the world! I will do a whole blog on our new found friends (yes, we will be returning there) but suffice it to say that the dealership people in Joplin, MO were just as friendly and accommodating as well. You see, they had to order the parts for the fuel pump issue and so they rented us a big new minivan so we could continue our trip out west. If you could believe it, we were only charged about $200 total for the use of this luxury vehicle (no miles!). It was a blessing as our Subaru was so jam packed with his things that we could not see out of the back or rear windows and the front passenger had to give the OK of when to change lanes. The back seat had just enough room for sitting up straight. Colin was starting a new job the following Tuesday and needed to get his apartment in order and buy a car, so we really had no time to spare. The new van afforded us the ability to drive without window obstruction and the back seat was cleared for the passenger to curl up and take a nap if they chose. We were driving in comfort and style, which takes a lot coming from me who swore I would never drive a big dumb mini-van! I will eat my words... they are great for road trips and big families. Once we got Colin settled, we did get a chance for some sight seeing on the way back. The highlights included Hoover Dam, Grand Canyon, and several superb eateries on Route 66. For the most part we stayed at Econolodges (low rent hotels) and ate at fast food places (as I suspected and dreaded) so I think I can say that we roughed it at least a little in preparation for our future extended road trip. Gerry and I had fun and there was only a little unpleasantness when I got hypoglycemic and there was no place to stop to eat. It was my own fault, as I should have had the sense to carry some cheese and crackers as Gerry suggested. Otherwise, I loved driving 75 miles an hour, singing to my hearts content, listening to rural country music stations, and gaping at the most incredible scenery I have ever seen. Today is just an overview... I will tell stories in more detail next week!

Oh, the pix is of the "men" assessing the car situation in OK. The man in the straw hat is our friend Justin (known as "cowboy" by the locals).