Las Vegas to Glenwood Springs

Leg One took us to Las Vegas. On Leg One I discovered that I had earnestly packed all (nine skeins of) my new yarn,

but had forgotten the crochet hooks. Hmmm.

It wasn’t much later, when I peeked back at my sweet youngest boy, and realized that there was no cure for his bare feet. Yes, I forgot his shoes.

Brownie points to my husband who took my forgetting in stride. He’s a good man, that Douglas.

So, I wound the skeins into balls, that took some time. And we rocked out to Andrew’s emo music as we approached Barstow. And we marveled at all the space inside our rented SUV, having random pillow fights and tossing snacks to the back seat. And we tried to count Joshua trees but had to stop when we got to 4,567. We designated Andrew as the trash man. And we ate a whole box of Trader Joe’s chocolate chip chewy granola bars. Six hours–it took–Santa Barbara to Las Vegas. A shortish driving day.

There was no bread baking to do in Las Vegas. Sheesh. If I had opened my bag of starter in that hotel I’m sure it would have died on the spot. I am just not a Las Vegas type of girl.

Between the binging of the slot machines, and the smoke, and the flashing lights (even the STOP lights in the parking lot had flashing lights around the edges, I’m not kidding) and the folks who at 7am are gambling and looking desperate… well, it just doesn’t put me in a happy place. But we made it through. Slept well enough, rose at 6am, left at 7am, bidding Josh, the bell guy, good bye.

And I can’t say there was any bread baking to do on Leg Two either. On the road for ten hours, crossing some of Nevada, all of Utah, and half of Colorado. But, guess what? We found shoes for the little one, and a crochet hook for me. Again, my sweet Douglas steered us straight to a Michaels in Saint George, Utah, and not only did they have hooks and needles and scissors… they had a 5mm rosewood hook that I just had to have!

So, I’m 14 rows into my bag. I found this pattern on Attic 24 and, once I saw the stripes, just couldn’t resist. I’m a sucker for stripes.

Lunch at Mom’s Cafe in Salina, Utah! A BLT on sourdough, no mayo. Yum. And… they had books on every table. Funny books–all by Ben Goode. We giggled through some wise thoughts from this book, Understanding Women: A Guidebook for Guys Who Are Often Confused.

What else? Dust storms, rain storms, wind storms, lightning storms–all that was Utah. Having lived in Santa Barbara for these last eleven years, I forget what a real character the weather can be. In California our sun and fog provide a sweet little backdrop to days that vary little from season to season. But in these vast states of the West–Nevada, Utah, Colorado, places of rock and sky, the weather is oftentimes the hero or villain, not the setting. Fun to experience this all anew.

And even though there have been storms swirling around us outside the Chevy Traverse, inside we’ve enjoyed a blissfully peaceful ride. (!!!!!) Already we’ve logged 16 hours of close quarters, and not one fight, not one struggle, not one tantrum.

Just me, forgetting the shoes.

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