Look Who I Found

Life with Omar is an interesting thing. By no choice of my own I have become Omar’s personal assistant and chauffer. While his car is theoretically en route to Portland, only mine is here, available for work. I drive him to and from work, hospitals, the airport, and business meetings. I keep notes and a calendar for him and I spent approximately 6 hours assembling his new Ikea furniture.

He arrived at 3pm and I cheerfully picked up his familiar face from the airport. Within moments, he got a call telling him he needed to fly to Spokane at 10:00 that night. So we had a quick dinner and I took him back to the airport. He retuned at 5pm the next day. We partook in another dinner and I dumped him out at his hotel. I was then forced to pick him up bright and early the next day where I spent the entirely of the morning and most of the afternoon driving him all over Portland looking at apartments. He picked one and we were up at 8am the next day signing a lease and getting his keys. While he conducts business, I sit out of the way but within earshot in case he has questions about his calendar. Sometimes I stay in my car, pulling my hat down over my face and reclining into my seat like a taxi driver on break. There was one day that I had to get up at 7 and pick him up to drive him to the hospital two towns over. I should tell you that he works in the hospitals. He’s not ill. I’m learning the whereabouts of all five Portland hospitals and a few in neighboring towns. He hops out of my car in black scrubs and tennis shoes and saunters into surgeries as though he’s a doctor. He’s not.

On move-in day we went to Ikea and I instructed him in the ways of proper home décor. He disregarded my insights about table lamps and house plants and instead chose only home necessities, oblivious to the wonders of wall décor and matching towels. We came back to his tiny new space and built his bed and chest of drawers. While he took business calls, I threw my weight against his furniture, hammering in wooden backings and finding the perfect nook for each new piece. We bought a sofa from Craigslist that we drove through town hanging out the back of my car. He drove while I clawed into the armrest, determined to hold it in place with my wee arms.

When he left for another business trip, this time with a rental car, I broke in with his spare key and decorated the place. I bought lamps and bathmats. I hung his things on the wall and even made a music corner with his instruments. He’s not back yet. I hope he’s not mad.

Despite my new position, I’m happy to have some company and Omar pays me for my time with meals. It’s a good gig really. Portland is full of delicious food.

As for me I’m staying in the guest room of a married couple I found on AirBnB. For privacy purposes I’ll tell you that their names are David and Nina. I’ve been living in their spare room since Mattie left but here’s the weird thing, I’ve never seen Nina. It’s just me and David and while he is very nice, we mostly avoid each other and keep to ourselves. I went back and read reviews the other day and noticed that everyone who has stayed here before me, also never saw Nina. “David was great. Sorry we missed Nina.” "Had a great stay at David's but Nina was out of town.” “David was a great host!” “Thanks so much David” blah blah. I voiced my concerns to Omar. There are no pictures of the two of them in the house. “Where’s Nina!!” I shouted.

Now I’m not actually concerned. The house was clearly decorated by a woman and theres even a sign in my room, in woman’s handwriting, welcoming the guests and giving you her phone number for emergencies.

“Maybe they got divorced and he just can’t accept it.” I suggested to Omar.

“Maybe David IS Nina.” Omar said. “Think about it. You only see him in the day. Maybe he’s David by day and Nina by night!”

Since this revelation I’ve been handling David as though this is the case, searching for his make-up kit and stockings while he’s out.

Nothing so far. I’ll keep you posted.

(I hope no one really worries about this. I'm just teasing. I don't really believe I'm living with a drag queen. Nina's visiting family and going to a wedding back home in Arizona... David said so.)

Whoopsie

My somewhat anticipated mini-panic is starting to set in. What am I doing out here? 

Nothing. That’s what.

So you know how I wanted to go out West? 

It never occurred to me that maybe this shouldn’t be a solo gig. So maybe I rushed into things. It’s a learning experience. Here’s what I’ve learned. You shouldn’t climb mountains or drive hours away to tiny towns by yourself. Girls can’t wander around alone at night and eating dinner by yourself is lonely business.

I’m very interested in my reaction to all this. My whole life I’ve always felt like there is the Laura that does things, making decisions and mulling over life, and there's a Laura that just watches that other Laura do stuff. She's not judgmental nor does she offer insights. She's just auditing the class. The Watcher Laura is intrigued because Doer Laura has spent oodles of time wandering around foreign countries without an ounce of panic (ok, maybe an ounce. It is me after all) and now, Laura is in her own country and feeling very unsure about things. I realized why though.

While roaming around in a place where everything is different, you have an objective. Even if that objective is just to have ice cream that day. You have a hostel to sleep in, a ticket out of town at some point, and a passport to keep you out of almost all kinds of trouble. Since realizing my “objectives” aren’t so easy to accomplish as a lone female, I have nothing with me but a car full of crap and limited funding. I can get in trouble in this country because I know all the rules.

AND due to some unforeseen expenses, I can’t even afford to drive home. I’m TRAPPED!!!

In other news, it is breathtakingly beautiful out here. Every time I get on the freeway I almost cause a number of potential accidents because I’m looking at the beautiful mountains and not the traffic in front of me. Portland remains a lovely place as well, though the downtown is like any city and I find it very stressful and tight. I like the spots surrounding the downtown and have in fact picked out my favorite neighborhoods. Portland is like mushing Switzerland with Alaska and sprinkling in some Charlotte NC.

So...

I just need someone to come out here and explore with me. Any takers?

Alone Time

I've become that mysterious, mute person that sits in coffee shops, typing and clicking on things for hours at a time. I've done lots of driving around and calling Ari to talk about nothing.

This is where I spend most of my time...

and this is my mysterious coffee shop face...

I've found a favorite coffee shop in the Arts District of all places. It's totally embarrassing. I know. The coffee man has told me all about Portland and insists that even though the artsy folks look creepy, they're usually nice people. "Don't be afraid of the freaks." he told me sincerely. The coffee man said all the different neighborhoods in Portland have the same stuff in them, but differently. Therefore, people hook on to their neighborhood as their favorite, have everything they need, and often refuse to visit any other part of town. Neighborhood pride. He said the most difficult thing about life in Portland is getting your friends from one neighborhood to come to a party in another.

Meanwhile I've been researching some WorkAways. I wanted to come out west to work on some farms. In case you don't know, a WorkAway is a crafty rig where you live for free with strangers if you help them with various tasks. You choose this part. Farming, babysitting, even restoring old buildings. You search the work you're looking for and where you'd like to go and then you can read about all the different hosts. It's fun just to look at the website. Actually it's torturous. You can travel the whole world doing this. Cattle farms in New Zealand or chocolate making in the Netherlands.

Here's the trouble I'm finding. The hosts in Oregon are freaks. That's not nice.
They're weirdoes. I keep thinking I've found a great set up and then I discover that the host will not permit me to eat meat or they observe a silent time from 3-4pm "in honor of nature."
Some insist on being barefoot (which I would love- but its cold here!) or want "an artist to come and create collaborative sculptures, exposing their way of life to the area, broadening the spectrum of art and existence." Say whaa?

In other news, people are serious about their coffee here. Everyones always walking around with big creamy cups of coffee. It's all so silly. What's wrong with a good black cup of coffee? I saw one guy with this huge cup full of who knows what and it had whipped cream and syrups and spices sprinkled on top and he walked past this cranky old man who said, "Are you going to drink that or mount it on your wall?"
And I got so tickled.

Portland

The City of Roses

Mattie and I agreed that it was good that Portland was our last stop. We hit a wall back in Idaho and found ourselves entirely uninterested in exploring any more places. We stayed in Northern Portland or "NoPo" as locals call it. It's a neat little area and we were able to walk to various restaurants and coffee shops from where we were staying.

While I've yet to go downtown or to the other "hip and happening" areas of Portland, I've found myself quit smitten with the place. It's so lush. A strange word to describe a city but it's the best I could come up with. There are thick woodsy trees mixed with neon roses and lavender bushes. Every house has a garden and wildflowers litter empty lots. The grass is so green and the trees are so tall. It's very exciting. It's very Cardiff. A few time I've caught myself thinking I was back in lovely Wales before realizing I was walking past Whole Foods and Starbucks.

Mattie and I ate waffles and Mexican food. We wandered through artsy freaks and accidentally found ourselves at a very awkward Open Mic Night. Portland is known for it's artsy and environmental goobers. Don Hon would hate all of the sustainable attitudes and compostable shopping bags. While enjoying some food truck grub, Mattie and I overheard a woman asking about the previous lifestyle of the chicken she was debating sprinkling over her salad.

We watched a movie on our last night together and I conked out while Mattie packed her things. We were up at 7:00 and at the airport at 7:30. We did a quick search of the car, making sure that the piles of crap were indeed all of my things and then she disappeared behind a Delta door and I sped off into the city.

I'm all alone now. I'm waiting for Omar to get here and find an apartment so that I can dump all of his stuff out of my trunk. I have his winter clothes, electric guitar, Arabic drum, and golf clubs. Yes, I've driven across the country with a drum in my backseat. All these instruments and my wee ukelele make people think I'm a musician and they keep asking me to play something for them.

What I'm most excited about in Portland is the 100 miles surrounding the city. It looks like Alaska! I'm excited to go exploring and hiking. I've got a rock climbing friend from home who lives out here and has given me a huge list of Must Sees. I just need to find my winter boots...

Coeur D'Alene

We spent one night just outside of Bend, Oregon and then ventured up the road to visit Mattie's friends Annie and Phil in northern Idaho. Coeur D'Alene, and northern Idaho in general, is renowned for it's beauty so of course the weather dipped to a chilly 40˚ with an icy rain as soon as we showed up. Previously it had been 70˚ and sunny and the day we left the sun reappeared and graced the little town with hot summer weather.

While I had packed some warm clothes in anticipation of a Northwestern summer, Mattie had nothing but a pair of dirty jeans and a flannel shirt. While Annie and Phil planned adventures for us, we cowered from the outdoors like the soft southerners we are. "We can stay here.", Mattie volunteered upon learning about a potential hike through the woods. "A movie would be lovely!" I added.

Despite the grey, I can see that Coeur D'Alene is a very pretty, quaint little town. It's up near some mountains on a lake and it's small enough that everywhere we went, Annie and Phil ran into friends every half hour or so. In our short stay in Idaho, Mattie managed to win over the town heartthrob and caused quite a stir in the local gossip. I swear, Mattie has this way. Fellas fall in love with her after just watching her eat a sandwich. She just sits there and they come a runnin'. I found it all sensationally amusing while people texted Annie asking who this new girl was and Mattie stood giggly and nervous.

Annie and Phil are an unlikely couple. She is from Florida. Phil is from Idaho. Annie is a tough, level headed, graduate student while Phil enjoys watching Gilmore Girls and making his own lip balm. To top it all off, Annie is 4'10 and Phil is 6'4. I'm in love with this couple. They've been married just two years and are still giggly and enthralled with each other. Phil spent our time scolding the heartthrob. "Mattie's going to be in our lives forever. Don't mess it up!"
Meanwhile Annie felt overwhelmed. "This is what he does Mattie. Make him work for it!"
I sat back as the fifth wheel, hideously entertained and very, very cold.

Palo Alto

The drive from Los Angeles to San Francisco was my favorite thing ever! We took Highway 1 along the coast and drove through all these fun little surfing towns. We stopped in Malibu for gas and Mattie's Starbucks fix and I was beyond enthralled with the place. It's a ritzy area where celebrities live and my goodness the flowers!

The weather was perfect outside so somewhere outside of Santa Barbara we pulled over and ate lunch on a hill.

Back at SCAD, there was a sassy girl living three doors down from my lavender scented dorm room. The first thing she ever said to me was somewhat offensive and I decided we would not be friends. Then she hooked on to me, insisting we were good together. To this day, Parvaneh offends Jared and me (and others) on a regular basis but she was right all along, we are quite good together. We went to visit Parv who just recently moved to San Fran for a swanky job with Groupon.

Parv lives outside of the city in Palo Alto. She refers to this place as a great place for young married couples who accidentally had children and are now just waiting around to die. (I told you)
I however, found it to be a most pleasant place and truly considered staying. Parv has this great, light filled house covered in lush greenery and hot pink flowers and to really stick it to me, she has a big healthy lemon tree and some budding apples growing in her driveway. It's my dream home!!

We ventured into downtown San Fran on our first night to meet up with Parv's friends. It was very cold to Mattie and me and we sprinted from the train station to a cab to friend Jess's apartment. We sat huddled together, ate a quick dinner, and had friend Lena drive us home. We woke up the next day to a nice brunch and perfect weather. We had planned to go back into the city to explore but we discovered an International Music Festival just a block from Parv's house so we spent the day wandering, listening to music, and people-watching from the porches of various coffee shops.

I really liked it here. We had pleasant, cool days and chilly nights. I liked that everything you needed was within walking distance and people seemed pretty laid-back for being just outside of a big important city. Parv tried to convince me to come live with her for a "good price" and I seriously considered it. (I still might do it... later)

We stepped into a little pub for some dinner around 6:00 and did not emerge for four hours. We befriended some goobers and had the best time. We met some folks from Portland and New York. I proudly announced my distaste for Yankees before realizing that the token yankee had the best manners of anybody. I retracted my statement and focused my distaste towards a girl with a cleavage tattoo.

This guy...

...was a very proud Canadian who decided that we were soul mates. He became such a clingy nuisance that the bartender had to continuously relocate us gals to put some distance between us. I even hid behind the bar for a quick minute. It was humiliating. The Canadian followed us around all night and gazed lovingly at our faces.

We were all in bed by 11:00 as Parv had to work in the morning. We woke up and said our goodbyes to Parv before walking across the street for fruit smoothies and coffee. We set out on the road by 9:30 and crossed into chilly Oregon.

Los Angeles

Mattie and I forgot to take pictures in L.A. We stayed in a house with three Australians and spent all of our time entirely distracted. One of them, is the ex-roommate to Mattie's cousin who now lives in Chicago and works for Oprah. Mattie and I fell madly in love with these people and I forgot all about LA and just wanted to sit on the couch and listen to them talk. They were wonderful hosts who made us feel right at home and gave us free reign of everything. We were staying in Silver Lake which is eastern West Hollywood. I'll say it was pleasantly covered in lots of exotic flowers and plants but the folks living in L.A. are aggressive and not genuine. Our safe driving caused us many honks and approximately one middle finger. I also received a $73 parking ticket not for parking poorly, illegally, or for too long. Indeed, you are charged a hefty $73 for being in the way of the street sweeper. Could ya not just go around?

It's super expensive to eat and live in L.A. and while there are nice areas, it's mostly a big, dirty city full of people who's lives make me sad. I wanted to capture everyone and take them to see nature and have a big family dinner. Surely that would make them realize.

But forget all that. Here in L.A. a true dream of mine came true. A bucket list item was crossed. Let me tell you about Craig Ferguson. 

Craig Ferguson is a 52 year old, Scottish born, newly American citizen. He hosts the Late Late Show on CBS and is entirely, and I mean entirely, underrated. He is a natural born comedian, people reader, and spirit warmer. He's charming, cheeky, and actually quite an inspiring person. It all started on a muggy July night in 2008. I couldn't sleep and found myself on the sofa, flipping channels. It was then that I found him. There Craig stood, a handsome, gangly fella, laughing at his own jokes and disregarding his cue cards. I fell in love. Now don't undermine my love. This was no teenage romance. For six and a half years I have been fascinated by Craig and wholly devoted to him being my "if only things were different" man.

Here in L.A. Mattie and I went to a taping of Craig's show. Two tapings actually, and we were given the distinct honor of being placed in Lesbian Row. Now don't panic. Lesbian Row is a pew of seats in the front of his studio where he places only good-looking females. He does this so that when the cameras pan the audience, folks will be distracted by the women and assume that the entire audience is especially attractive. Mattie and I had to sign contracts allowing us to be shown on TV.

I'll tell you all about it. First, you wait outside in the blazing sun for one hour. Then you're brought to a shaded area to be briefed on appropriate audience behavior. After another hour, you're brought into Craig's freezing cold studio and they sort you based on your appearance. Isn't that terrible? There is a warm up comedian who gives you candy and you practice laughing and clapping. Finally Craig emerges and tears well in your eyes. 

The different segments of the show are filmed sporadically and not sequentially as they appear on TV. Craig does not interact with the audience individually but addressed us in-between shots and kept everyone laughing. We had the good fortune of sitting for two episodes as the crew is off for vacation and so filmed an episode ahead. Craig created inside jokes with the audience that he would reference on air, putting us all in stitches but making no sense to at-home viewers. In-between takes, while the crew moved cameras and chords, Craig just danced. I was pleased to watch Craig interact with the crew, who appear to still find him funny after all these years. Watching them shoot the show is a fun thing for regular people but you can see how it is very much just a job for the crew and for Craig. They were very organized and efficient, doing the scene and moving on. While Craig was very endearing with the crowd, he said thank you and goodbye as soon as he was finished and he disappeared behind his set. 

While it was everything I thought it would be, I felt kind of let down when it was over. It just ended and we walked back out into the world. That was it. That was my moment with Craig. 

I spent the rest of my afternoon in a relatively silent funk, wondering if having your dreams come true would actually make you feel empty in the end. The silly dreams anyways.

Oh but it doesn't matter. I can count on Craig to make me laugh and make me think. I'll always love the fella. But I sure would love to tell Craig that I'm proud of him.
Watch this man giggle and see if you don't fall for the guy.

World Cup

As a fairly unsporty girl, I really love soccer. Not so much playing it (all that running!) but I love watching other people partake. Be it a team of stubby-limbed 6 years olds or a sensationally attractive legion of foreign men, I can feel that beaming energy and I want to watch. It's fast paced, unpredictable, and takes some skill. What's not to love?

I'm a fan of soccer because of Europe. The US rarely puts a soccer match on TV. No one talks or writes about it and for reasons I haven't found yet, it's mostly ignored. We prefer football. An often lethargic game of timeouts that takes hours to play and frustrates me to watch. I do like football but it's soooo loooong.

From this point forward, everything I say will sound snobby. Forgive me.

Every time I'm in Europe, there's a soccer game on. Every pub in every country plasters it's TV's with this international pastime. While initially I paid no attention, it was my first World Cup that got me. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been in Europe for the last few Cups and the energy and excitement is so contagious. Imagine going to a football game where 80% of the crowd was not all rooting for the same team. In Europe there are so many modern, historical, cultural, and friendly rivalries between countries. The folks squeezing into these tiny pubs with you are all rooting for different countries or at least rooting against one that's playing. It's exciting. It's universal camaraderie. And they're good games!
I was in Amsterdam when Holland made it to the finals in the last Cup and the city just erupted. It screamed. People were climbing lamp posts, jumping on moving vehicles, dancing in the street, and singing and hugging strangers and this celebration went on for hours. You can't help but laugh and be excited and feel like you're part of it.

I'm thrilled to see more and more Americans getting excited about soccer. I'm happy to see it on the same screens that only play football reruns month after month. I do have to admit that it's making me miss those dark British pubs. I've never watched these games in clean, well lit, modern buildings with accent-less fellas eating veggie burgers. I like sitting amongst undecipherable shouting and frothy pint glasses on a sticky wooden bar. I like seeing guys dressed head to toe in their county's flag, singing their national anthem in their native tongue, and grinning from ear to ear.

San Diego

When I was eleven, we went on our first big family trip. Dad had a meeting or two in Hawaii and instead of leaving Ellen and me back home with Grandma like he had for so many other meetings, he took us along. I was so excited. To this day Hawaii is one of my favorite places. I don't remember much of this first visit but I returned somewhere around 16 or 17 and after visiting a rice farm in a deep, jungly valley, something clicked, life made sense, and my life was ruined forever. The point of today's rant though, is San Diego. We crossed the country, flying into Los Angeles and dipping down to San Diego. I have a few snippet memories of old San-D and these include lots of ice cream cones and having lunch on a flowery patio on Coronado Island. I remember that Ellen was in a bad mood and I tried to make her laugh by pouring water on my head. She did not laugh and I remember being cold. We bought two giant fleece jackets that the four of us still wear around the house when it's chilly. I have fond, fuzzy memories of this place and so I convinced Mattie it would be a stop worth stopping for.

I'm a little mad at San Diego. Only a little. It's a very pretty place with gorgeous weather and lots of kind, attractive people. It smells good and it's clean. That's nice. As a whole I enjoyed our 16 hours there. We drove through the afternoon from Vegas to San-D. The drive was fine but traffic came to a near standstill about 70 miles from the city. Then it picked up, moving down the highway bumper to bumper but going 60 mph. I've never been so stressed behind the wheel. You can't drive that close, that fast. I've never felt so out of control of any situation I've encountered on the road nor have I ever before considered rear-ending someone just for an excuse to pull over and let it all pass by. For an hour and a half, I held a death-grip on my steering wheel and plowed through mayhem. I don't have words for the stress level. It was wild. I'm not kidding, we cheated death (or just expensive repairs) at least 16 times in one hour. I continuously braced myself for impact and just narrowly got by. My nerves were shot when we finally made it to our hotel and my hands were shaking. I can not believe the way these people drive.

We met Mattie's friend Peter for dinner that night. And even though I ranted about my perilous afternoon and was visibly bothered, Peter still made me drive. He lives there! How about you drive me, Spartacus, huh? Been driving for days.
We found ourselves at a beach pub, ironically run by a fella from South Carolina who had decorated the place in USC colors and covered the walls with jerseys of the Clowney and Lattimore caliber players. I felt right at home and proudly announced my heritage to the waitstaff who seemed genuinely pleased about my excitement. We wandered a bit and took a night stroll on the beach before I dumped that Peter out by his car and said Sayonara.

We woke up the next day and became pleasantly lost in the city, giving ourselves a nice tour of the place and reestablishing the pretty memories I have. I would live in San Diego... if it weren't for the traffic. It's a shame really. It's a beautiful place but the amount of people driving around is a deal-breaker. We wound up back in the beachy area but because it was the first day of the World Cup, it took us three hours to find, order, eat, and pay for lunch. There was no time left for exploring after all this so we hopped back in the car and trucked it to Los Angeles.

We forgot to take pictures of San Diego. I was distracted trying not to die on the roads and getting out of the car was like having another chance at life handed to you for free. I needed to be in the moment. Didn't know if I was going to get many more.

Utah to Las Vegas

We ditched the Grand Canyon. When we were what should have been just five hours away, we found that it would have taken us eight and a half to get there. We spent the night in the middle of nowhere in Utah in an effort to get to the Canyon. Utah seems to be some kind of time warp where 1 mile is really three and 1 hour is and hour and a quarter. We realized we were going to go all the way to the Canyon, look at it for 20 minutes, and then have to drive another hour to the closest, overpriced hotel.  So we pulled a hard right and spent two nights in Vegas.

Leaving Denver, we drove through Aspen before dropping down into Utah. I loved the snow-capped mountains and the christmas trees. It was a chilly 34˚ driving through the area and in fact, it snowed for a full minute and then we were pelted with hail. It was exciting to us hot weather gals. "Mattie, we need chains for our tires!"

We stopped for lunch in a little cafe that was run by 14 year old girls. Our waitress had to be in the ninth grade and the girl running food is most definitely still learning her state capitals. They were all very sweet but it was strange and perhaps even a bit illegal. We left chilly Colorado for the hot and dry of Utah. This was an very interesting change of scenery. The big red rocks looked fake. The mountains looked like paper and they're not kidding, there really is no shade. It seemed like we drove through Utah forever but it was so different and pretty that we stopped at every scenic point and even bought bracelets from a Native American woman on the side of the highway.

As one might expect, the farther south we went the hotter it got. We stripped a layer with every hundred miles. We arrived in Las Vegas about 3:00 in the afternoon. It was 104˚. We were both very tired but I hadn't slept well in days so we both sacked out in our lush, pillowy beds and woke up around diner time. We walked around our hotel and Mattie tried her luck a the penny slot machines. It was around midnight that Eric showed up. Eric is a friend from France who divides his time between a number of exotic locales while he photographs beautiful people for magazines. Eric stole us away from our hotel and drove us all over Las Vegas. He showed us the original Strip, the famous wedding chapels, and of course let us take pictures in front of the 'Welcome to Las Vegas' sign. He walked us around until we could take no more and then brought us to IHOP for a way-too-early breakfast.

The next day reached a hulking 106˚. It was way too hot for me to go outside so Mattie ventured out for a while and I literally stayed in bed until 7:30 at night. I got out for a quick lunch and several bathroom breaks. I realize it seems like a waste of Vegas but A) I've been before, which allows me to know B) Vegas is not my kind of place. After a full week of driving, laying in a cloud for hours was wonderful but gosh y'all, I still can't sleep. That night we went to a Cirque du Soleil show and were so so impressed by those performers. It made me acutely aware of my fitness level. That's all I'll say about that.

We slept-in the next morning to savor the wonder and then packed our things and set off. As a whole, were excited to be out west but Vegas in particular put a damper on our funding. Not only was gas $4.21 but everything is so outrageously priced. A bottle of water cost $3.50. It's the desert! They should be handing the stuff out. They should encourage the drunks to drink water. I could rant about Vegas for ages but who cares? We had fun. It's the best people watching around. I'm happy to not only be back on a coast but also to be closer to more life. I loved the lush plains of those middle states and the red rocky desert conjures images of old western films and wild horses but I feel a sense of relief to be bit closer to other humans.

Denver

The drive from Kansas to Colorado was lovely. Kansas continued to be a healthy looking state and we anxiously awaited the sight of mountains when we crossed the Colorado border. I have no real points of note from this drive. Mattie and I have fallen into the swing of riding the car all day and until that frightening storm showed up, we just sat listening to tunes.

We were so excited to make it to Denver and see little Kelsey. This is the same Kelsey from Greece and our Caribbean cruise two years ago. We met her boyfriend and her new puppy and then promptly spent the evening snuggled up on the sofa watching tv. We ordered pizza, dough balls, and mac n' cheese and put ourselves into a sleepy carb coma. Mattie and I shared an L-shaped sofa and I didn’t sleep a wink.

Kelsey lives about 20 minutes outside of Denver so we spent our day running errands and telling old Greece stories. We did venture into downtown Denver that night to attend someone’s graduation party. It was really a party for family, but Kelsey is an old friend of the graduate and so brought us with her to this family reunion. Mattie and I tried our best to blend in and stay out of the way. It wasn’t until I rummaged through Mattie’s purse and found a pamphlet for stretches you should do on long road trips, that I lost my composure. The drawings got me so tickled that I caused a mini-scene and blew our cover. My tearful giggling prompted Mattie’s giggles and there we sat, two deranged strangers, whimpering on the back porch. “We’re friends of Kelsey’s.” we told curious bystanders.

We ventured deep into downtown Denver that night and while the city looked very exciting it was jam packed full of people. It was kind of awful. Mattie and I both found it rather stressful and also, to us southern gals, it was really cold. We wore jeans and sweaters but passed girls in booty shorts and tube tops. There were people everywhere and crowds have infuriated me since I was a wee littlin’. We eventually came home and sacked out on our L-bed. We got up promptly at 8:30 and hopped on I-70 west, headed for the Grand Canyon.