Diggin' Denver

So our time in Utah has come to end. After our cutesy stint in Moab, it's time for us to head to the big city. And by big city, I mean the mile high city of Denver, Colorado. After tiny Moab, Denver is going to seem like a behemoth, but there's nothing like a change of scene to shake up your world, so off we head to see what Colorado has to offer as a state. I have never had the pleasure of gracing it with my presence before, so I'm thinking that it is going to be quite interesting. Or at least I'm really hoping. We drive north from Moab to hit the I-70 which will take us to the heartland of the city. On the way, a little thing known as the Rocky Mountains happens to be standing in our way. Thankfully very brave men with lots and lots of dynamite came through years ago and blasted tunnels for us to make our way through, or we would have to be digging out pick axes, rope, and God knows what else to get over these gargantuan mountains. Happily, we have exchanged our very red palettes for a larger variety of blues, grays, greens, and brows. No longer are our eyeballs dominated by that outrageous red. Now, I didn't mind the red, but poor mom was ready for a bit of life again. The desert atmosphere was actually making her sad, or so she says. Most likely, she was simply missing my father and brother and used her accuse of disliking the desert to hurry us on our way.
(You're swell, mom ; )


One little thing though as we plow through Colorado, - it's raining buckets. Giant, giant buckets of rain are being dumped on our car as we head in toward Grand Junction. The rain is pounding and the wind is whipping, and our scenic road trip is becoming a very slow process through this mess. FANTASTIC!


Now I love rain, but just not when I'm driving. Rain is so soothing and gorgeous when I'm sitting in my library, reading a novel, sipping a cup of hot tea, not when I'm trying to drive 75mph down the interstate. No, that is when rain is just not acceptable. 
We decide to pull off in Grand Junction to take a break in hopes of the rain passing by the time we get back on the road. Jennifer nearly has a heart attack in the back seat when she finds out there is a chick-fil-a only minutes from us. The word has been spoken. We are stopping at chick-fil-a for our lunch break because southern-raised Jennifer misses her chicken sandwiches and sweet tea when she's in LA. I don't blame her. I mean sweet tea is a staple in my life. It is a necessity just like toothpaste, hot sauce, and coffee. You have to have it in your life. 
It all actually turns out to work perfectly because after we eat and pick up a few things at Target, the storm has finally passed, and we can cruise on into Denver with no rain to slow us down.

The drive through the mountains is breath-taking. Literally, we are driving through the mountains, under them, over them. I am having every relationship possible with them and their scenic views. My only complaint is all of the truckers on the road. I know they have to earn a living, but I wish, they would earn their living and stay on their side of the road at the same time. The winding roads whip and change direction over every bend and the trucks aren't exactly keeping with the flow of traffic. They are idiotically trying to BEAT the flow of traffic. Ummm excuse me, but that's my job, not yours. You are in a giant death machine whipping through the Rocky Mountains, and you are trying to outrun motorcycles, SUV's and sports cars...please, instill some sense in your brain! I nearly have a panic attack when we take a sharp right curb and the driver swerves completely into my lane. GREAT! A giant truck is on my left and a giant mountain is on my left. You might as well reduce me to an ant because I don't stand a chance if the two decide to have a little rendezvous. 

Thanks be to God, we made it to Denver in one piece which I assume you gathered by the fact that I am actually writing this right now. Such an intelligent reader...Anyways, our first stop in this lovely city is Savory Spice Shop which was made famous on the Food network when the owner was given her own show to show the world all the bazillion things that anyone can do with a grain of salt. It's amazing what that little seasoning will do. They should change the saying "Add Spice to Your Life" to "Add a Grain of Salt to Your Life." Seriously.
I'm not kidding. They have every kind of flavored salt imaginable. Black salts, Fleur Salts, smoky salts, PINK salts! Yes, there is such a thing as pink salt, there are also truffle flavored salts. Not the chocolate truffle, but the really expensive mushroom looking truffle that cost something like $80 an ounce. Yes, that is ridiculous. Yes, I tasted it, and it was fabulously outstanding. And no, I didn't buy any. Should have but didn't. I enjoy truffle. I mean how can you not?? When something is that expensive, you are almost obligated to like it. It's like that outrageously expensive bottle of champagne your friend buys you for your birthday. Even if you are not a champagne drinker, you have to enjoy every sip from that bottle. It is your obligation to humanity. Truffles have an odd smokiness to them, or at leasts that's what my oversensitive buds pick up. I make it a game to try all the different salts because I want to see if all these salts can really taste different. (They can! Shocker, I'm telling you.) 
Besides salts, this spice shop sells, welllll about everything. And yes, I mean EVERYTHING in the spice/seasoning world. A culinary heaven for anyone who enjoys stepping foot in their kitchen. They have anything and everything from grilling spices, to maple-flavored sugar, to Indian curry spices, to Amaretto Extract (although, I don't know why you wouldn't just buy the real thing), to steak mixes, chicken mixes, cinnamons, nutmegs, etc. Seriously if you've dreamed of it in the spice world it's here. 
Mom goes a bit crazy and begins gathering up everything. Apparently, we have a lot of cooking to do when we get home. I pick out some cheddar seasonings to season my popcorn! Oh this section makes me very happy. I can put all kinds of flavored cheddars on my popcorn. LOVE IT!! I mean who wants that boring white stuff, right??

After we leave momma's heaven, we head to my heaven on earth. The Tattered Cover Book Store!
I warned you about my dorkiness. Well, here it is exemplified! Walking in through the double doors, my heart skips a beat. I'm home! I suck in that old musty smell that only old books can give off, and begin wandering because I really don't know what else to do but wander in here. The Tattered Cover is Denver's equivalent to Portland's Powell's and Seattle's Elliott Bay Bookstore, but the TC isn't as humungous. Which is nice because in Portland, I felt like I was lost in a five story Costco building.  Bookstores give off character. They reflect their city. This one gives off a relaxed feeling, a nature's lover oasis in the city. Coloradoians definitely care about their outdoors and no wonder, it's jaw dropping out of every window. Many of the featured books cover hiking, biking, skiing, wildlife. The history section has a wonderful history of the cowboys and the Indians. Excitedly, I locate a discount hardcover special edition of Anne of Green Gables that I decide to buy to commemorate my little stint in here. Now whenever, I look at it's jade colored cover, it'll remind me of this glorious three-story wood beamed, rustic bookstore. Do you get the picture yet?
Just checking.
It's now time to eat, and we head to the Wazee Supper Club to order pizza. Jean has been craving pizza, and the locals suggested we come here for a low key atmosphere. Walking in, I immediately love this place because I know this isn't something that tourists would know about, this is the locals joint. Who wants to go to all the touristy spots when you can eat where the natives dine? We order massive pizzas and all share the same opinion on loving Denver, Colorado. Everyone here just seems extremely laid back. This has been one of the friendliest towns we've been in the past two weeks. Everyone has a suggestion, everyone has an idea for you. I like that. I love ideas.
The final idea for the night is for us to stroll down 16th St - a pedestrian only street with shops, restaurants, and street performers, and PIANOS! Yes, there are pianos for the taking on the streets which blows my mind for some random reason. They carry their own tune with outrageous artwork across their fronts, sides, and backs.  Gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! Above us, a clock tower is lit up with red and blue lights, people are merrily singing and painting and playing chess along the street. I feel very grand right now. As far as I'm concerned, this city is all right in my books, and definitely makes it on my return list. 

I will be back because I am really diggin' Denver.

Let's Put Moab on the MAP!!!!

So let's be honest...besides mormonism, what is Utah known for? I mean yeah, throw in Salt Lake City, and yeah that's about it. Utah is one of those states that will draw blanks, and I don't mean that in a mean way. It's just one of those things...sorry, Utah. 

You're beautiful!

Just thought I would throw that out there. 

Because Utah really is beautiful. We enter Utah via Monument Valley which is already a grand start. Like I said in my previous post, Monument Valley is exceptionally beautiful. Rocks have never drawn so much attention as these. They shoot up out of the desert all by their little lonesome. They wave at you to continue on your merry little way and that's the end of them. 

I don't want the rocks to end, but like all good things they slowly fade to nonexistence along our journey. Besides we've got somewhere fun to be tonight (or so I've been told). Actually, I'm not going to lie, I am a little bit skeptical. By suggestion from a dear friend, I have chosen to spend this night in Moab, Utah. According to google maps, there isn't much there, sooooo YAY!

But, I have on very good authority that Moab is adorable. (Abi, you had better be right!)

Originally I had planned to drive over to Telluride, Colorado, but apparently there is a festival going on there this week (what a shocker!), and there aren't any hotel rooms left under $600. Yes, $600, and being it would have been simply a 12 hour stopover until we headed on to Denver, I couldn't justify spending that much for one night under these circumstances. There is a time and place to drop $600, and this was not it. 

So, I mulled over maps and ransacked guidebooks for memorable places to stay in this area, and Abi walks up and points to the map and says to stay in Moab. 

Moab?

Yes, Moab!

Ok...

Moab actually has one significant tourist attraction, it is immediately south of Arches National Park. Why not check this place out? It's known for the Delicate Arch, a narrow arch that doesn't look like it should be standing, but it does stand on its two sides miraculously. 

I want to visit the park being we are so close, so we speed up along the interstate to make it before dusk.

The drive is predominantly red rocks and desert like surroundings, but slowly gives over to more greenery as we venture farther north. We draw closer to Moab, and my anticipation is building. Will it live up to my expectations? Will it be as lovely as everyone says? 

Oh! I hope so!

Drawing closer, I notice sidewalk and lamp posts popping up with tiny little shops and restaurants behind them. Slowly the foot traffic picks up, and I am amazed to see how many people are actually hanging out here. Moab has a "cutesy" feel to it. It reminds me of a village. This place could take the name of village and own it. It has the people, and it has the restaurant, shops, and the gorgeous little decor. I'm loving Moab, and we haven't even gotten even out of the car yet. 

Later, we will come back and soak in your marvelous cutesy ways. 

But first! the national park. It's time for a bit of fresh air. 

It's after six, so the gatehouse is closed, but a little sign on the window reads:

Welcome to Arches National Park, enjoy your visit. 

Or something along those lines. 

Anyways the park welcomed us and beckoned us to carry on up the orangey-red mountain. My heart skips a beat as we turn the curb and climb up, up, up. I have a thing for national parks. I adore them. The US has a treasure trove of them that more people need to look into. Arches isn't as popular as other ones, but already the views are worth driving out her to the middle of nowhere.

We carry on and stop at the first view point known as Park Avenue. The giant rocks that line the right side of vista reminded the finders of the buildings that lined Park Avenue in NYC. Under no conditions do I find any resemblance to NYC. This place makes me forget places like NYC. But nature like art is all up to the person interpreting it. It will forever be interpreted in its own unique way by whomever is viewing it at that moment. No two people will ever see the same tree, mountain, butterfly, or painting in the exact same way. Art is individually interpreted. 

I jump out and run toward the rocks. After taking the necessary shots, I spy a sign that leads to a trail into the valley. Of course, I take it.  Who cares if the trails are primitive! I'm heading out! I make my way into the valley, but am caught short when my mom calls and says that they are not up for a hike.

Oh...

Yeah, I can't just leave them, so I climb back up the trail and head towards my compadres to admire the towering rocks on the right and the giant valley beneath me. The sun is making its way down casting a heavenly glow over the valley. It's breathtaking and totally worth any drive from any distance. It's absolute worth it. 

But we have to make it to Delicate Arch and that does require some hiking for the viewing. 

Jumping back into the car, we continue through the bright red valley which is glowing even more thanks to the sunset.

The path leading up to the arch is steep and treacherous. I pass a nine year old boy who is complaining to is grandpa that he cannot make it up. Talk about extreme bonding with your dearest. I'm sure the boy didn't realize what kind of vacation he was signing up for when he agreed to spend the week with grandma and grandpa. 

The four of us arrive at the top and we take in the splendor and the wonder of the arch. Mom is huffing, but is thankful for my constant prodding her to the top. 

"Yes," she breathes. It's worth it. The valley and the arch all burn in differing shades or red and orange. Those two colors dominate the eyes. Every shade imaginable is present somewhere in your peripheral vision. So quickly I get lost in the view.

Someone says that they are hungry.

Oh yeah...we haven't eaten in a long while. I suppose that is something that we need to fit in within all this gorgeous nature. It's time to head back to Moab! 

I spy a brewery on the way into town and I make a mental note to ask the concierge at the hotel about it.

He gives it two thumbs up, and tells us that not only do that brew all of their own beers in house, but they also make their own sodas, and all their food fresh.

Moab is getting better by the second. We drive back down the one street taking in all the tourists even though the town doesn't feel like a tourist's trap. That's always the best combo. Loads of people, but a low key, real, authentic feel. The brewery is packed which is always a good sign. Of course, this is one of a handful of restaurants, so it isn't like these people have many choices but they still opted to come here.

The food is phenomenal. I have fresh fish and a mound of chips buried in vinegar, salt, and pepper. Everything tastes extremely fresh and delicious. Including the homemade blackberry soda. After our long day of driving and soaking in monumental and archal (that's not a word) views. My eyes have been over exposed. My feet have been overworked. Now it's time for the four of us to gobble up our yummy food, drink our cool beverages, and talk about how wonderful this area is. 

Not bad Utah. 

I guess it's time to put Moab on the map!

The Euros take over and a Monumental Valley

Apparently, and this is by a very good source, the Grand Canyon is the center of the universe. Or at least it would seem so by my observations over the past 12 hours. (Yes, I count yours truly as very good source.) For dinner last night, my little group decided to indulge at the Yippee-Ei-O! Steakhouse in Tusayan. Yes, that's Yippee with two e's. Right next to the south rim entrance to the grandest of canyons, Tusayan, Arizona couldn't really own the title of a city. You could call it a village, but there aren't many residents around, and I tend to associate people with villages, so let's call it a one-road town...or something like that. This one road town boasts a McDonalds, Subway, Wendys, a few chain hotels, a Mexican restaurant, and an internet cafe. Yes, you know a town has made it on the map if it has an internet cafe! Besides a few restaurants, there isn't much here. Yet, this one-road town gets more variety of internationals than many major cities near my home in NC. Sitting in the restaurant, which was complete with cowboys and cowgirls as waitresses, we witnessed several of the world's continents represented in this themed steakhouse. Spaniards, French, South Africans, Dutch, Japanese, Germans, Slovakians, Swedish, Bulgarians - all walked by our table. Slovakians? Yes, you know the country that broke off from Czechoslovakia and became simply Slovakia and left the other country as just the Czech Republic. You know?? Right?? Well, whatever, I'm a dork.

But, like I said, there were many different people, and you must remember that besides the giant hole in the ground a few miles north of me, there is really nothing else here. Amazing that it only took a hole to suck this many different types of people into this steakhouse. Of course, hole-seekers like all other people need to eat.

 

If you are wondering how I figured out all of these represented nationals (you didn't really think I could pick a Slovakian out of a line up did you? ), you must remember that I have Debbie Wallace with me. Without fail, she said hello to every person that walked by our table regardless of their hurried pace. 

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

She beamed over and over again. Some people simply ignored her which might have had something to do with a small language barrier, but that's just a guess. Some, however, were flattered by my dearest mother's keen interest in them. They smiled and smiled and told her where they had traveled from and then moseyed over to their waiting dead cow. This restaurant specializes in dead things. (What else does a steakhouse specialize in?) But this one had many of the animals mounted on the wall. The menu boasted rattlesnake if you were up for it, (I was not) and of course lots and lots of different kinds of steaks with beans, corn, baked potatoes and hot rolls. It was the all-American cowboy meal, and yet, we were the only Americans in there, (or so it seemed). Our surrounding guests kept us entertained, and the nationality guessing game ensued at our table. Needless to say, it was a lovely night and left us all saying Yippee...Ok, sorry, but I had to say it.

Now, this morning in the hotel lobby, the people-watching continues. Add in more fellas from England, and Ireland, and I'm close to constructing the entire European map in my head. At breakfast, I'm trying think of all the ways I know to say "excuse me," so that I can get a glass of juice or a cup of coffee. The decor sells the southwest, but the crowd sells something more like New York or Los Angeles. 

More and more people come in and out, in and out. I must give the Europeans this - it's 8 in the morning and the men and women are still dressed spectacularly. They are on vacation in the piping hot desert, and they still manage to do their hair and get all fixed up. I wish I could say the same for myself, but I usually resort to ponytails and jean shorts when I'm in the middle of nowhere. Oh well...I could try...but...yeah never mind. I'm on vacation and on vacation mode I shall stay. 

We are driving up to Utah today, and we have an epic journey before us. Yes, most of the journey is desertland, but, in the midst of this land lies Monument Valley.  My goodness, my mind goes blank when I attempt to think of words to describe Monument Valley. It's monumental? yes. It's vast. It's grand. It takes your sweet breath away. Glorious blue sky meets mammoth rocks jutting up into its atmosphere. Riding along the ever-ending road from Arizona into Utah, you have no idea what to expect from the long continuous road. Fortress-like rocks just appear in the vast land. With no rhyme, reason, or measure. 

They just appear, each with a unique shape. Some give off a dusty red color while others stick to the traditional dusty color of the desert. The palette out here sticks to only a small color range on the ground: brown, red, deep brown, deeper red, a bit of dried green here or there. The azure sky pops against the brown and actually gives the eye a shock. White actually adds a bit to the range with the fluffy clouds that float overhead. Never would I think white would actually add to a surreal painting, but this time it does. Each rock has its own personality. One reminds me of a bear, another a finger, another a fort, another a fish. I desire nothing more than to go and scale them, each and every one, and become a part of their shape, but I don't. I refrain and decide to simply enjoy the views from my car's windows. Crossing into Utah, we do get out to take our state sign picture. It's become "our thing" on this trip. 

 

Many things have become our thing on this trip...signs, outrageously breath-taking views, deep colors, serenity, wonder, beauty, God's marvelous creation, memories, and people. Lots and lots of different people. 

But what is a beautiful world without the marvelous people that feel it?

hmmm enough reflection. It's time to get elevated in Utah. 

and by Grand, you mean??

After a night in Vegas, I feel like my eyes and my brain need to be purged...No seriously. Outrageously addicting, Vegas is similar to your favorite 10 layer chocolate cake. Staring at it, all you can think about doing is digging in, but once you start the sugar begins to kick in and the sick feeling begins gnawing at your stomach, and you must step away. That's Vegas. It's delicious. But only so much. You have to step away, or you will lose yourself, your mind, and everything in between. So of course, I pick the one thing that always without fail helps me to purge my mind. I pick nature. Nature, my go-to for a brain cleanse. Without fail, nature always brings my mind back down to a better perspective. Being out and staring at God's creation always without fail helps me to settle my mind and help me get my thoughts and bearings straight. But this morning, I didn't just pick any natural spot. I picked the Grand Canyon of all places. But of course, one needs a whopper to get over Vegas. You really cannot find something bigger than the Grand Canyon. I mean without stating the obvious it's grand. So we pile into the car once again on this road trip across America and head to the the nation's giant hole. Sadly waving goodbye to the glorious Vegas strip, I'm already thinking about what I'm going to do the next time I'm here. That's the danger of Las Vegas, it makes you want to come back even when it makes you crazy while you're there. It's almost like that person that drives you absolutely insane when you're with them, but as soon as they are away from them, you instantly crave their presence...yeah those are those unhealthy relationships...that's Vegas. So time for the biggest cleanse of all.

Several of my friends have been to the Grand Canyon, and they gave me a giant warning when I told them I was coming here.

"Don't get your hopes up! It's just a big hole." They warned me because they know how zealous I get and I suppose they didn't want me to be let down. Fair enough.

But in my mind I kept wondering...how on earth can the GRAND Canyon be disappointing? After all it's the Grand Canyon. The idea of this was beyond me, I really didn't think it was possible.

Pulling into the parking lot that afternoon after our day of driving, I am immediately struck by the amount of foreigners. More people are speaking French, German, and Spanish around me than I've encountered on this entire trip. If it weren't for the giant skies above me, the vast expanse of trees and fields beyond me, I would think I were in Europe somewhere. 

Ahh...hold that thought! I just stepped out of an SUV, and I parked next to two, so there's no way I'm in Europe...all good...we are still in the USA. 

I am amazed to feel my heart thumping as I walk along the trail toward the hole. I mean it's odd to me that I'm slightly nervous...I'm terrified that I'm going to be disappointed. Growing up, I always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, but now that I'm actually here, I'm worried...so so worried that it's going to be less than I expected. I'm so worried that it's going to be like one of those great letdowns that I'll never get over and then my whole fantasy of travel and expectations will be ruined!!!!!

Ok I'm being dramatic, but seriously, my friends's warnings have me a little worried. Mom and Jean are yakking with each other a few feet behind me; therefore, they have no idea of my racing mind. I keep my fears from Jennifer who is walking next to me, for fear of voicing them might make them real. We follow the fence together towards the entrance. A dirt path takes us closer. Jennifer gasps. I look up. Through the trees, I can make out valleys and jets of rocks. My pace quickens even more as do my feet. My feet pull me closer and closer to the tree line, for beyond them, I know. Beyond them is the very canyon that I have been yearning to see. The Canyon that is about to make or break my day. 

I hurry toward the edge and I peer out over the vast expanse that is the southern rim of the Grand Canyon. My eyes fixate on the rocks that range from purple to red to orange to grey to black in the variant angles of the sunlight. The dancing sun changes everything about these rocks. The sun sets the color palette. The sun dictates the hue. At first, I'm without words. The only thing that actually pops into my mind is the unrealistic look of the canyon. Yes, that word is unrealistic. The Grand Canyon doesn't look real. Yes, I am standing on the edge. Yes, I can feel the sun beating down on me. I can feel when a cloud passes and casts a shadow. I can feel the cool breeze. I can smell the trees, the dirt. I can many foreign voices of the tourists and I can hear the many, many snapping cameras, but still this place doesn't seem or feel real. It's too perfect. It's too beautiful to be real. Perfection is only possible if something is out of line, out of order, out os synch with reality, for true perfection is uniqueness, and this is exactly what I feel here. I have never seen anything like this. Yes, I've seen similar things. I've seen things in southern Arizona, in Washington, in Oregon, in Western North Carolina that remind me of this place, but nothing...nothing like this. This has its own special feel. The Grand Canyon was labeled Grand for a reason. Most likely the men couldn't think of a better name. I mean why not name it after the Indian tribe or the Spanish explorers that haunted these lands centuries ago? Because calling it Balboa's Canyon, or Apache Canyon, or Cortez's Canyon just wouldn't have done this place justice. The name would have felt small. Only the Grand Canyon suffices. 

And right about now, you are thinking...it's a giant hole in the ground. 

Maybe...but it's a magical hole in the ground. And I don't mean spells and enchantment magical. I mean it's magical in the sense that it actually has the power to wow you with no special effects, no editing, no exaggerations. It wows by just being. It wows by simply being the giant canyon that God shaped with a tiny river at the bottom of it. That's what is so magical about the Grand Canyon. It captures your heart by simply letting you walk around its rim and soak up its beauty. 

That's how we spend our evening. We meander around the edge, taking picture after picture and commenting about God's beautiful creation. His touch of color, His perfect shaping. We gaze at every turn because each bend in the trail brings another jaw-dropping view. 

It doesn't get old and I'm sad when it's time for us to go...I am generally saddened because despite all the warnings, I wasn't disappointed. On the contrary, I was wowed! I was amazed! I was taken back. And above all things, my brain and eyes were fully cleansed from the previous night. I stood on the edge and took a deep, deep breath. Clean air, and a magical view...what more could a girl want?

The Random Nights of Vegas

What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, correct? However, a little bit of the Vegas story always leaks out. Maybe an exaggeration or maybe a shrug...something about Vegas always gets out. Of course, everyone has their own expectations about Vegas. Lots and lots of alcohol, strippers, gambling, spontaneous weddings, and all-nighters usually come to mind when I think of Las Vegas. 

That’s not quite what happened during my stay, but I did see many, many things, and I did meet a lot of very random people. I think the best word to describe Vegas is random. Because above all things Vegas is random. The people are random, the places are random, the restaurants are random, the hotels are outrageously random. You cannot predict what’s going to happen to you when you step out of your hotel room. All bet’s are off; no predictions can be made. Another thing about Vegas is that you always end up in random places. You might set off for one direction and end up in a completely different one. 

I am now going to break the number 1 rule in Las Vegas, and I am going to tell you exactly (well maybe not completely, but we’ll see) what happened to me in sin city. 

Here goes, and don’t judge me on the following post. This was a completely different world for me. I was out of my element. I felt like a guppy thrown into a shark-infested ocean. The trick is to learn to swim and to swim quick. 

Pre adventure, we wander around MGM and discover the most hilarious asian lady playing blackjack. She bangs the table every time she loses, wins, or ties with the dealer. If she wins, she does a dance and starts singing oldies songs. She looks at me and tells me that I need to wish her better luck. She loses. She grabs her bag and throws 2 grand on the table, and tells the dealer to keep going. She loses again and throws another 2 grand on the table. Clearly my presence is not helping her at all, so I leave and decide to stare at the lions lying around like the lazy beasts that they are while a trainer jumps in and feeds them. Heck, if I would go and stick food down a lion’s throat, for all I know, he might decide he wants to eat me and put me down his throat.

We decide to go clean up and get ready for our night out because Vegas is a night town. You can go out during the day, but the night is when all the action happens, but first things first, we all need to look semi swanky to go out in this outrageous town.

1. Mandalay Place at Mandalay Bay Hotel

Now gussied up, we begin our night by first filling our stomachs. Burger Bar by Chef Hubert Keller seems like a tasty choice. The house favorite is a buffalo burger with spinach, grilled onions, and cheese on a ciabatta. So I decide to try this $20 burger and see how it goes. I’ve never paid $20 for a burger in my entire life. I’ve paid it for a steak, for a salmon, but never for a burger, but why not it’s Las Vegas. The sides range from skinny fires, sweet potato fries, zucchini fries, to onion rings. The zucchini fries are my personal favorite with their zangy center and crispy outside. The buffalo burger is very tender and literally almost melts in my mouth, the spinach and the ciabatta are a nice combination, and we all swap our plates to try everyone’s different burger combos. Now that we are relatively full, we decide to attempt the Vegas Nightlife.

1. Bellagio Hotel

You cannot visit Las Vegas without going to the Bellagio and checking out their water show. It’s absolutely spectacular. The water shoots up and sways from side to side in rhythm to the song that’s playing throughout the air. yes, it’s water shooting up and down, but it’s downright gorgeous. I loved every second of it. Part of me wanted to sit and watch it over and over again, but there’s too much to do in Vegas. You cannot just sit and watch water in Vegas, you have to go and explore Vegas. So here goes.

1. Hard Rock Hotel and Casino

I decided that since I was in Vegas, I had to at least play cards...just a little bit. I play all the time at home, so why not play for real. It’s part of the growing up experience, right? You go, you play a little, you learn a little, you lose a lot. Hard Rock is Jennifer’s favorite casino, so we decide to lose our money there. I coined it as the casino for the “cool people” because the clientele here is definitely different from the clientele from the previous places. Everyone is dressed very sleek. The men are in suits and the ladies are in form fitting dressings. The first thing, I see when I walk in the giant doors is a go-go dancer on top of a poker table. Yes, that was a first for me. I usually don’t frequent places with go-go dancers, so I was a tad shocked at first, but like I said earlier, it’s Vegas, so you have to learn and adjust quickly, or you will get run over by the person behind you. I continue walking around the casino as if a go-go dancer is a part of my everyday life and Jennifer and I pick a table where we are going to play blackjack and everyone else is going to watch since they don’t know how nor desire to play. I decided how much I was willing to lose before I even sat down at the table instead of sitting down, starting, and ending up losing who knows how much. We get our chips and the game begins. The guy on the far end of the table is doing really well and has actually won quite a bit. He clearly knows what he’s doing and is actually playing two different hands. I whisper to the dealer that it is my first time ever doing this and she smiles and tells me not to worry that she will help me out. 

I win my first hand.

An outrageous prideful feeling rushes through my body. I mean seriously, there is something very satisfying about winning a hand and watching the chips that you won being put in your pile. You crave more instantly. I lose, I win, I lose, I win, I win, I lose, lose, lose, lose,lose. Yeah, I definitely starting losing more than I was winning, but I didn’t care. I simply loved being there. I loved tapping the table when I wanted the dealer to hit me with another card, I loved throwing my chips down for a bet, and I especially loved when I won a few chips. I quickly understood why it was so addicting. You really don’t won’t to stop once you start. But of course, I had to stop because I ran out of chips. A large part of me wanted to throw more money down, get more chips, and keep playing, but I knew better. I knew I had to walk away now because we were done yet.

1. Cab

Cabs drivers are crazy. Literally. They have outrageous personalities, outrageous comments, and outrageous reasons for being in Vegas. A guy from New Orleans picks us up and starts speaking in such a deep voice and saying such random things that Katelin and I burst out laughing in the back seat. He gives everyone weird looks and gives very weird reasons for living in Vegas. I’m very happy when we pay him and depart. Our next cab drivers tells us about people throwing up in his cab and having a hazmat team coming out and cleaning it up. We pick his brain for stories of his most random encounters and he tells of the most outrageous things his customers have done. Another cab driver complains of his ex wife causing him to move out here, and how he cannot stand his current wife’s family. Cabs are too small. Next time we are getting a limo with a privacy window...we don’t need a conversation with anymore crazy people.

1. Nine Fine Irishmen - New York, New York Casino

This is a true authentic irish pub complete with a live Irish band and tap dancers. The interior takes guests over to Ireland despite the fact they are in a hotel that is a replica of New York City. The place is jammed pack with people, dancing and singing along to the Irish band. Mom and Jean find a table in the back corner and make themselves comfortable. Katelin, Jennifer and I decide to socialize. We meet a very nice and very sane young gentleman from France who is over here visiting his sister. We have a lovely conversation with him or at least attempt to above the raucous of the crowd around us. We actually are quite close to the stage and the little irish dancer is only three feet away from me, so it is amazing that we can hear him say anything at all. Katelin goes off to find someone else so talk to while I go check on my mom. That’s of course when all the craziness ensues. An irishman with a spiked jet black mohawk and piercings all over his face and ears has found my two elderlies and is chatting them up. I walk up and smile and try to figure out what is going on. He looks at me and with dread I realize he has formed an attachment. 

Oh dear God. 

He begins telling me how beautiful I am. How nice I am. How he wants to be my friend and who knows where everything could lead. Apparently he is a poet and beings trying to tell me of his poetry before I cut him off telling him I have to find my friends who I left with the French guy.

“The French! No! NO! You cannot go with a French Man! They are women!” - He bursts out.

I stare at him shocked and then quickly run away to find the sane people. Katelin has discovered 5 men visiting from Switzerland, and of course, our accents are adorable to them. I stand and talk to them for a little bit before we are interrupted by an elderly lady who might make the 4’11” mark (although it is debatable) who is dressed all in green. She darts and dances around better than any of the younger people in this pub. Immediately all conversation stops and cameras start flashing. To my horror, the crazy irish guy shows up beside me. “There you are, beautiful!” He exclaims. 

Oh No! Not cool. I attempt to distract him by introducing him to the Swiss guys.

He turns to me, “They’re liars! They aren’t from Switzerland!”

I look at him as if he’s crazy. 

Well...he is crazy.

“Beautiful, you don’t want to mess with them.”

No, more like I don’t want to mess with you, I think to myself. He continues on about his poetry and I nod as I watch the band who is way more interesting than this lunatic. The frenchman comes and says his goodbyes in the french style with two kisses on the cheek and leaves with his sister. Why can’t other people be as sane as that guy?

I go find mom and Jean who have moved to lovely outdoor table to get some fresh air. Anything to get away from the crazy mohawked irishman. 

Jennifer and Katelin come out and join us, and the five of us are enjoying ourselves when next thing I know here comes you know who.

And this time he’s got all of his friends. Apparently they are an irish band too. Oh that’s just fabulous! They all want to sit and chat with us. The crazy guy who actually goes by the name of Adam wants to continue to recite his poetry, but I tell him in America no one can recite poetry to a lady unless they first recite it to their grandmother, and I point to Jean. He looks at me bewildered, and I not. The only way he can continue is if he first recites everything to Jean who I know doesn’t want to hear a word this crazy guy has to say. Finally, Jennifer steps in and tells him and all his soggy bottom boy look-a-likes to go away and leave us to enjoy our evening on the strip. 

He looks at Jennifer and starts accusing her of hating him and then starts rattling off disputes between the English and the Irish. How the heck that came into the picture I have yet figured out. I mean what England has to do with him reciting poetry to me and Jennifer telling him to go away has yet to be determined. His friends tell him that he has to go now because he is getting too loud. He looks at me one final time and tells me that he thinks I’m beautiful and who knows where it could have lead. He gives me his name and tells me to look up his poetry. I sadly don’t make him any promises. He then looks at Jennifer and reminds her that she hates him.

She just shakes her head. 

They disappear inside and we are finally left to ourselves. It’s now 2am, but the music is still going inside.

1. The next morning in my hotel room.

I can only handle one night in Vegas. My personality requires order. Chaos is fun for certain moments. It’s entertaining when its needed, but in everyday living, I need the order and stability that Vegas lacks. I need sense, and I need reason. Vegas provides neither of these. So as I sit and reminisce over my outing in Vegas, the only word that can come to mind is random because Vegas is just a random place. And another about Vegas...what happens there is meant to stay there for a reason...

Dizzy in Los Angeles

Los Angeles. There’s a ring to those words. My mind conjures up many different ideas about L.A. The city is a melting pot of world cultures, struggling actors, aspiring writers, directors, fashion designers, singers, and every other kind of person in between to fill in all the gaps. In Los Angeles, there’s a slot for everyone of every kind. In all my traveling days, I have never seen a city so spread out, so diverse, so mismatched. Beverly Hills screams money, Venice Beach is fueled with craziness, and Hollywood buzzes with tourists. Whatever floats your boat, there is a neighborhood for you. 

We’ve got four days here, and there’s no way we can cover a thumb of the things to do here, but being this has thus far been a trip circled around food and excitement, we will stick to those things. 

After we pick up Jennifer who is our go-to-guide for the L.A. area, we head out the door for some food. It’s time for a western institution, IN-N-OUT Burger. People have raved and raved and raved about it, so I cannot leave until I’ve had one of their burgers, so I might as well hit it on the first day so that there won’t be a chance that I’ll miss it. IN-N-OUT burger reminds me a little bit of Five Guys. You go in, you tell them what number you want, and how you want your fries, and you take your number and have a seat. Outside, we sit down in the cool of the Californian afternoon and have a quintessential burger experience. Jennifer orders the animal fries which are smothered in a secret sauce, grilled onions, and cheese. Talk about a mouth full of flavors. Crazy deliciousness. The burgers are good, the fries are good. First food experience in Cali is good. 

And honestly the food continues to be good. The next day at lunch we munch at the Aroma Cafe. Giant plates of salads and panini sandwiches entice our eyes and make it hard to order. Not to mention the giant cakes, muffins, and cookies in their dessert display case. My goodness. I’ve said before that everything out west is bigger, but even their food. Their food out here is huge! Portion here are humongous. Finally, mom and I decide to split something so we can get lattes and dessert too. We have a turkey and pesto panini with a side Caesar, but the star of the meal is the final course. Sweet, creamy vanilla lattes accompany a rich, luscious tuxedo cake. Layers of cake and sweet cream icing send everyone into overdrive. Afterwards, we head to Griffith Park, the infamous Griffith Park. All those celebrity magazines have picture after picture of celebrities walking their dogs or pushing their kids in swings in Griffith Park, so of course, we have to go to Griffith Park and head up to the top so that we can see the infamous Hollywood sign. After we park, we walk up the hill, and immediately the freshness of the air hits me. It smells really really good up here compared to down in the valley. I suck up the air. My lungs rejoice in the freshness of this air. At the top of the hill, resides a giant conservatory which is absolutely brilliant for those who love science, astronomy and whatnot. 

I sadly do no fall into that category. I’m all for staring at the stars, but as far as understanding why the stars are the way they are, I don’t have clue, nor do I truly have a desire to discover that long lost clue, but my hat (or hair band technically) goes off to those who do understand it. One really cool thing that I will point out is that the conservatory actually houses Galileo’s telescope. Now, I think that’s really cool because that relates a little to my history studies. Galileo is the man when it comes to studies of the skies, so the fact that my little eyes have gazed upon the telescope that let his little eyes gaze upon the heavens is kind of neat actually. 

We do the tourist thing and take pictures of the Hollywood sign and carry on our merry little way. More tourists things follow and we take the metro down to the Hollywood Walk of Fame where anybody who’s ever been somebody has their star here. I run around and read all the different names, pointing out the ones I know and shrugging at the ones I don’t. It’s odd thinking about all the famous people before my time who I don’t know about, and wonder about the people of today’s fame and wonder if they will be remembered 30 years from now. Jennifer had the brilliant idea of getting us tickets to see Jimmy Kimmel Live, so we headed over to his studio to soak in the comedy. First of all, the studio is much much smaller than it is on television, and as soon as you sit down, you are given strict instructions on how you are supposed to behave. You have to cheer, clap, and the like when they say, and you have to hush when they say. They want the audience at home who are watching to think that the present audience is having the time of their lives. Jimmy has a great sense of humor. If you’ve never watched him, you really should. Ice Cube and Melissa Rycroft are the two guests, but sadly neither of these two really excite me. I’ve never followed either one of their careers, so really the only reason I’m watching is to see Kimmel. When the camera starts rolling, he lights up and immediately begins chatting, but as soon as the camera stops, he shuts completely down. I guess funny people cannot be funny all the time. We decide to have our own bit of funny afterwards and go to a Karaoke bar to see if any of us has any talent. I have zero talent whatsoever when it comes to the music department, but as the night is winding down, they finally convince me to join a group of them onstage and we end up singing Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. That’s enough singing/comedy to last a week for me. 

Los Angeles is having its effect on me, and I decide to have my hair done the next day. I feel like I need a bit of glam. So, I go to a barbershop on Venice Beach that Jennifer swears by and talk Zoran the stylist into dying my hair a chianti red, my entire head. I don’t want highlights, I want red hair all over my entire head. He agrees and it’s a success. I now have fabulous red hair. The dazzle of hollywood is taking over. We go to the Hollywood Bowl to see the production of Rent, and the beauty of the bowl itself is enough to bring thousands of people up the hill to fill the seats. We have the pleasure of watching Vanessa Hudgens and Nicole Scherzinger prance around the stage. Scherzinger is hilarious with her impression of a cow, but Hudgens needs a little more practice in the dramatic death scene. Of course, I don’t know I would do in front of thousands and thousands of people, so I really cannot say too too much. I would go back and see anything at the Bowl. I love the Bowl. You see! Los Angeles has me amazed at a bowl!

Food is always on the mind in L.A., and we dine at some fabulous places during our quick hop and skip on the west coast. Urth Cafe is one of my favorites because not only can I get Moroccan Mint Boba Tea, but I can also get a killer honey vanilla Spanish latte alongside a bavarian fruit tart. Urth stands as heavenly. We also get sushi at Katsu-Ya which boasts some the freshest and best in town. We eat tender toro and yummy eel alongside giant tempura shrimp. The fish is fresh, tender, and full of flavor, and we almost convince Jean to have a piece of raw fish, but she won’t touch the raw. She’s scared of the worms. The idea of worms doesn’t phase Katelin and I and we dig in. Food, food, and more food. Los Angles is full of fabulous food. Oh and shopping! No, trip to L.A. is complete without a trip down Rodeo Drive. Trust me! It’s worth it.Your bank account might not agree, but just looking at everything and all the shop and designer names give me giddy feelings in my tummy. More feelings. I feel like I’m headed towards dizziness. Los Angeles perhaps itself is dizzy. 

The Rumored Pizza

Rumors somehow, someway get started, and regardless of what people think there’s some form of a kernel of truth in them. I’m not saying that rumors are 100% true, but I am saying that there is something in them in some direction that is true, or else they wouldn’t get started. Usually someone misunderstands or embellishes the truth that becomes the rumor, but still some inkling of truth is buried beneath the rubble. Rumors usually start somewhere with something. Around Phoenix, and in the travel mags and guidebooks I’ve been going through, there is a rumor that Pizzeria Bianco serves one of the top 3 pizzas in the world. Yes, I just said world. I did not say city, state, or country. I said world. My first thought is that I have to try it. My second thought is that we are not in Italy.The second rumor I hear is that there is on average a 3hr wait to get in. I laugh at the second rumor because in my opinion no food is worth sweating in the 100F Phoenix heat for three hours. I mean who in the world would do that? It’s our last night in Phoenix, so I decide that we should check out this miraculous pizza joint. I mean why not? Thinking that I’m going to beat this three hour wait and get there before anyone else, I drag my crowd down there at 4 o’ clock on a Tuesday afternoon while everyone is still at work. I mean who is going to be at a restaurant at 4? When we pull up, I’m shocked. There’s a crowd waiting outside, and the place doesn’t even open until 5. Ok, second part of the rumor has a bit of truth. People are mingling and sipping drinks from the bar next door. I march up to the door of the restaurant and knock thinking I’ll put my name on the list to get in at 5. The lady abruptly tells me that its a first come first serve basis, so basically I have to get in line behind everyone else. GEEZ. You could roast peppers in the sun right now, and we are expected to sit out here in the heat all for a little pizza.

And so we wait. 

And wait, and wait. 

About a quarter until 5, people start actually lining up in front of the door. I dart over and get behind the people in line because I heard another rumor that there aren’t many tables in the restaurant meaning that you really want to get that first seating. The doors open and the lady starts directing people toward their seats. The closer we get the more nervous I get that we aren’t going to get a table. Behind me, the line is wrapped down the sidewalk down past the bar. I don’t know if I would even bother if I were that far back. Inch by inch, we move closer. I peer over the other people’s shoulder trying to see if there are anymore free tables. There’s one and it only seats two. I cringe! Another hour wait. At the door, the lady asks me how many are in my party. 4. 

“4? ok.” She looks around. “Would you like to sit at the bar?”

Sure why not...I mean I’d rather go there than have to wait another hour outside. They let in two people after us and then they shut the door. I quickly count and there are only 44 people seated in this restaurant. The 3rd best pizza joint sits 44 people.

Ok so, here we go, let’s see what these people have got. 

The bartender recommends we order the antipasti saying that its his absolute favorite consisting of local vegetables, local cheese, and fresh baked farm bread. Sounds good to all of us. The place only offers 7 or 8 different kinds of pizza, and all are originals. We each decide to order a different one for variety. Katelin orders one with roasted onions and sausage, Jean orders the closest to a traditional margherita, mom orders one with red onions and pistachio nuts, and I am having issues decided between a white pizza with arugula and a red pizza with salami and olives. I really want the in house mozzarella on the white pizza, but I love red sauce. I express my dilemma to the waiter, and he tells me that he will solve my problem and simply surprise me. 

Ummm..ok why not? I smile and tell him that my experience is in his hands. 

I have an excellent view of the roaring wood fire pizza oven to my right, the very minimally stocked bar (they generally stick to local beers and wines) right in front of me, and the raucous noise of the 40 other pizza eaters behind me. The one room restaurant is made up of brick walls, tiny tables, and oil paintings of simple but gorgeous fruit. Simplicity reigns in this 

The much anticipated antipasti arrives in roaring color, edible art on a platter. Purplish olives, bright red roasted peppers, golden potatoes, yellow pecorino cheese with hot bread along the side. Everything is seasoned simply with salt, pepper, and olive oil. The key flavor in this dish is the freshness. The potatoes melt in my mouth and dissolve into a butter like consistency. My word.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man standing over near the kitchen emailing furiously on his blackberry. He is simply dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, and his hair is unkempt. Occasionally, he glances around and says something to the cooks shoving pizzas in the oven, but then he eagerly returns to his blackberry. I return to my food. Our  waiter asks us if there is anything he can get us, and instead of asking him for another drink or something, mom asks him about the jars of tomatoes on the wall above the pizza oven. 

“Did you guys can those tomatoes?” Mom asks eagerly. “I can tomatoes all the time when I’m home,” she smiles.

The waiter shrugs, but motions toward the blackberry guy. “Hey, Bianco, who canned those tomatoes?”

Bianco turns around and looks up at the tomatoes. “Oh, yeah that was my momma.”

He reaches over the bar and shakes my hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m Chris Bianco.” 

Chris Bianco as in Pizzeria Bianco, the owner and namesake of this joint, and the chef of the 3rd best tasting pizza in the world. 

I am instantly starstruck. We talk about how he came west from Brooklyn. We talk about his momma and his early days in her kitchen when he was only a child. We talk about his eagerness for local, fresh, organic ingredients. He tells me that his pizza dough is made daily with filtered water and organic flour, and that his pizza’s flavors is derived the fresh ingredients. When he finds out that we are driving to L.A., he immediately starts to list restaurants we need to try, and of course, he is friends with all of the owners. Mario Batali is his good friend, oh and Jamie Oliver is his “buddy.” Oprah and her best friend Gail have eaten here several times. Rightt...This one room restaurant is turning into an eating studio, home to a food artist who is connected and connected well. 

He chats to all four of us about our drive and wishes us well before he heads outside to return to his blackberry. I smile at mom. This is way too cool.

Our pizzas arrive. My surprise is set before me, and I squeal in delight. The guy made me a halfer. I got a half white and a half red with fresh mozzarella, arugula, olives, and salami. I feel like I’m looking at a canvas. More edible art. Part of me wants to just stare at the beauty and the other part of me is dying to eat this wonder. I cannot stand it any longer and eat a piece of the white side first. 

Fresh Arugula, buttery mozzarella, salty pecorino on that ridiculous fresh crust - oh my goodness! It’s delicious. Ridiculously delicious! I believe the rumor. Granted, I haven’t circled the globe, but I have been to several places in this world, and this is by far some of the best pizza I’ve ever had. I get about the same response from my three companions. Yes, it’s that good. My red side is just as good, but in a completely different flavor category. 

Mom’s odd combo of red onions and pistachio nuts is outrageous.

Katelin and Jean rave about theirs as well. 

Who would have known? Who would have believed it?

Chris comes back with some fresh peaches from his garden outside and tells us to take them for our road trip. He doesn’t want us to get hungry. He smiles, wishes us the best, continues on with his blackberry, an artist in his own world, his own stage, his own little element. 

I take another bite of my outstanding pizza and relish this moment, for by far this is definitely one of the best.

Yeah, this is definitely one of the best.

One question: how fast can we go?

I only had one question: how fast can we go?

Racing hearts are a good thing? I really really hope so because mine is thumping in my chest. I can feel it hitting my chest cavity and dropping back down again. Banging my chest cavity and dropping back down again. Dust is swirling around me, and I have to peer through my sunglasses to keep my path. And did I mention that its really really hot? Racing hearts, dusty streets, and heat! Where on earth am I?

I am driving a Tom Car in the Sonoran Desert, and I am having the time of my life. 

How on earth did I get here? How did this episode come about. Well, like many episodes in my life, I started asking questions. What can you do in the desert to have fun? How can you become a part of the desert? How can you get down on ground level with the desert? You can horseback ride around here, and yes, I love horseback riding, but at the same time, I wanted a little more of a kick. I wanted something to make my adrenaline levels surge, and my heart to quicken and looks like I’ve done a good job. Mom and Jean aren’t so thrilled. Katelin is! She’s ecstatic just like me. She’s ready to pump the gas pedal. Our tour guide picks us up at the resort and shuttles us and six other people out to the Indian Reservation where we are going to ride. He hands us all bandanas and tells us that it will get really dusty out here, so wrap up and wrap up good. Mom decides to take on the role as bandit. She is now a bandit. Funny, mom. Jean is still looking around like a startled bunny on a late night road. She has no idea what we’ve got her into and she’s a little fearful of what’s going to come. Our cars are the highest end of dune buggies you can get. They are the creme de la creme of off-roading. They remind me of miniature little army tanks, and in outright astonishment I run over and jump in the driver’s seat informing mom that I will be driving her today. Katelin does the same. She is going to drive Jean. Jean looks at all us, and silently ties her bandana and gets in the car. After a few safety speeches, we are off to check out the wild. The Sonoran! The outright grand Sonoran! We zip off down a gravel path which quickly changes to a desert mixture of sand and rock. Dust starts to fly, and the view starts to change rapidly. Suddenly a cow crosses the path of the first car, and we all have to slow. There’s a huge puddle of water and we swerve to miss it due to it’s proximity to the cow. We don’t want a mixture of cow and water for a morning slushy. Our guide wants to show us the riverbank, the only source of life is this dry terrain and where all of the animals come to drink. Approaching we slow and turn off the cars. He warns us to stay away from the low bushes, and we climb up a dirt embankment and we peer out over the water. A neighing interrupts the guide’s introduction to the river, and we turn to see a group of wild horses running through the desert. We all gaze in amazement at the pack that cannot be trained. The Indians here have let them run free all these years, and they rarely come near humans, so we are greatly blessed with simply catching this priceless glance of them. Our attention is so completely enthralled by the horses that we completely ignore the other guide calling our attention to something in the tree. 

“Snake, guys.” 

Yes, he just said there was a snake just feet away from where we are standing. Oh! fantastic! I HATE snakes. They’re slimy yucky bodies. I mean absolutely no thank you. NO, no, and no. I’m ready t get back in the cars and spin off some more in the desert. But not before taking one picture first. I mean you have to take a picture even of something you don’t like at all. So I do, and then I hurry off toward the car, jump in and thank the Lord that this car can go well over 70mph away from the snake. The desert continues to unfold before us and cactus, sand, and faraway distances fill my view. I am speeding through this terrain, but I am able to appreciate it  because it is mesmerizing. I  mean you can not not appreciate it. It’s a burning oasis. Jack rabbits are disturbed by our sudden appearance and run off agitated. Sorry little rabbit. We stop again to take pictures of the view. Even though our entire point out here is to go fast, we do want to actually appreciate God’s beautiful desert. I could thousands of words show you dozens of pictures, but neither would do it justice. It’s one of those moments in life that you’ll never forget because of the combination of beauty and adrenaline. Ok enough soaking in, time to speed off. We floor our way up a mountain. Mom yells all the way up and then the yelling switches to screaming when we start coasting down. A ditch opens up in front of us. There’s no way around it, so we plow through it. Plop. Plop. The car isn’t even bothered. It’s almost as if it looked back at the ditch and said, “ditch, what ditch?” We swerve around and down the trail through the desert following the lead car. I swerve to miss a cactus. Mom doesn’t need a prickly face. Now, we are headed back to the ranch which means we can floor it. 70mph here I come.