But I Thought About You All Day

It was sad to say goodbye to Pam and the dogs. Can you see the little one peeking his head under the railing, right next to MaryEllen? Rose is also peeking under the railing. Fenton seems to be looking for a horse to chase.


It was a long day on the road, and it's midnight now, so I'm really relating to your post about all the good intentions you had for documenting your Vermont weekend, Allison. There are a lot of things that occur to me on a 10-hour solo drive, so you can bet I had a lot to write on the blog at about... 5:00. Here are a few of them, just so you get a taste:

cattleguards and cottonwood, falling rocks, evergreens, open range,
crumbling two-lane highway with blacktop patches, triple-digit temperatures,
string cheese and wasabi peas,
mesa, magpie, moose

There was more, of course. I was thinking about mix CDs and guerilla art, and how if I died tomorrow I would have to say that was a damn fine life I had. I was thinking about traveling alone and being a herd animal, and I was thinking about writing, I'm always thinking about writing.

Especially when I should be sleeping.

Bed at the SLC Marriott

But before I go, I do want to say one thing. I really did think about You all day today. Not just you, Allison, but all our blog readers. "Lurkers" is a term that bloggers use for people who read but don't comment. I don't really like the word, actually, because I appreciate the fact that people read the blog, and don't want you all to feel like you are eavesdropping or doing anything else you shouldn't be. I'd rather you feel welcome here.


On my drive today, I was thinking that I wanted to tell you how much I loved writing for you all while I was at the ranch. I love that Tonya wrote in and said how much she loves the ranch, and I think Stephanie discovered me during my first ranch stay.

There's something about the blog and the ranch that goes well, isn't there? Really, I think it's that writing and the ranch go together well. My writing group will attest to that fact. So much of the writing/ranch marriage is Pam, and the energy she puts into it. It's her home base and therefore infused with all the ways that she encourages people to engage in that struggle to put the world into language, language that we can share with each other, and which may be beautiful in itself, but above all else creates a connection with the other. It might also be that Pam just found a place on the planet that already had in it whatever energy it takes to inspire people to work on the writing thing... maybe it's the hills and the way they take the late afternoon light, or the way you can't really see the house until you are right on it, because of the way the land undulates a little just there. Maybe it's the old barn or the thunderstorms or the elk, both living and dead. Maybe it's the voles. I don't know, but I know it's there, and I hope this week it results in words on the page from Pam, because now that I finally have that Hayden's Ferry Review with from her new, uh, book-length piece(novel?), I'm definitely hungry for more. I'd take another serving of that salmon if she was cooking, too. Pam is a person who knows dozens of ways to nourish a soul.

I guess there's something about the Salt Lake City Marriott and writing too, because that's a lot more than I meant to say just now. Okay, maybe it's not the Marriott, it's the road and writing, really. Back to that.

Abandoned place on Highway 139

What I wanted to say was a little thank you to our readers. I used to be someone who never showed anyone my writing. I wrote letters, but that wasn't the same as letting people read the little things I had worked on just for myself. I'm still shy about that, even with the writing group. I can't stand to read any of my pieces out loud and there are only a few people outside of the writing group who have seen bits of the novel. I'd like to get a little braver with it all, and I appreciate the blog as a step towards that. I don't know how much my writing here has in common with the novel or the short stories I've been working on. I know there are big differences, but the blog has definitely been a few more steps into bravery for me.

Pam and I were talking about thriving yesterday, and what it means to thrive. I think it's safe to say that the audience we have here has helped me thrive in certain ways. Whether you comment or not, I have this funny feeling that it matters whether I post here or not, and I feel a little itchy when I don't. Whenever I'm stuck with the other writing, it helps to know that I have a practice piece waiting for me here. The blog does not know what writer's block is.

I guess this is going to get a little like liner notes here, or the closing credits or something, because I really do want to mention how much I love imagining Kristin in England (my Original Reader!) Ross and Marjie in Portland, Mom in LaConner with all her Windermere pals. Barb in Minnesota, Susan in the OR, Glenn in New Zealand (Hi Glenn!) not to mention all the Seattle peeps, Kathleen and Katherine (you two really should meet, by the way), Peggy, Dakota, Dana, Caitlin, Regan, Kirsten - all of you help me imagine a benevolent audience out there in the world, and we all need to think that at least part of the world is a benevolent audience for us.

... and then there are all those people who haven't piped up to say hello yet (maybe you should!)... I wonder about you all... like who is reading from AMF Bowling Worldwide? I'm dying to know... I love bowling! You know I do, Ali.

Drove in to Salt Lake just as the sun was setting. It almost made it seem pretty.


Night night.
HM

Here I Am! Here I Am!

I have to say, I consider my stay at the Four Winds Motel outside of Durango to be the pinnacle of my road trip. This motel is exactly what a road trip motel should be, fake wood paneling, one of those lampshades with the plastic cover, a TV mounted on the wall like they are in hospitals. I think the free wi-fi is super funny, especially since when I asked the guy in the office if it would just show up or if I needed a password, he said "No, it'll be there. Well, you might have to dig for it a bit, it's kind of finicky." Then he told me about how they're all college students and one of them is an IT guy, so he tries to fiddle with it and get it working right. But I was distracted, cause I was wondering how you "dig for" the internet. Anyway, he was nice. Made me a little more comfortable with the fact that I'm not so sure that my door really closes all the way. Heh. Hmm.

Don't worry though, by the time you read this, I'll be off to town, for coffee, and the book store, and the yarn store, and the grocery store. I need to stock up so I don't have to leave the puppy for one eeny little instant!

By the way, I've been updating my Flickr site with photos from my road trip, take a peek!

I Heart Gas Stations

Pull tabs outside Lava Hot Springs, ID

When you don't start your days on the road until 1PM, and you drive from Seattle to Missoula in one day, then Missoula to Salt Lake City the next day, your trip is sorta about gas stations. In a way. And don't cap on me for the 1PM starts, hey, I needs my coffee, and breakfast, and sleeping in.

I did manage to stop at Lava Hot Springs for a little soak in the mineral water there, that was lovely, and the Lava Hot Springs Inn was like something out of a Carson McCullers story. If I have time on my way back, I'm definitely staying there. Anyway, about the gas stations. I'm not kidding, I really do love them. Well, maybe not the one on Rainier a block away from Elvis' house, but these cross country road trip gas stations are great. They are all the same in a way, but for some reason I love what little variation there is. Like how they all have different weird lighters, for instance - the lighter shaped like dice that has flashing lights when you open it, or the one in the shape of a motorcycle with a working headlight! Gas stations make me want to play the lottery - they have that little element of surprise to them, like something strange is going to happen, or you are going to find a crazy treasure, like the giant box of Bottlecaps I bought at the gas station in Blackfoot today. Remember those candies? Flavored like different sodas? Love them! Specially the root beer.

Now, okay, we all know that the gas station is really not anyone's first choice for a place to be (not even mine, really) but the thing about a road trip is, you gotta make your own fun sometimes.

Just like the rest of life, really. Right? Now if only gas stations had photo booths. THAT would be something.

P.S. Ali I love your post!! In your honor, I am only posting a cell phone photo today. Even though I took lots of photos of me in my bikini at the hot springs. Hee.

The Photo You Weren't Here to Take

Goofy photo, huh? Blurry, overexposed. I like it, though. It was taken with the self-timer, of course, since I'm now on my solo road trip back to the ranch, where I will spend the rest of June. I think the self-timer guarantees the blur because when you press the button to take the photo, you aren't standing in the photo for the camera to focus on. Or maybe I just still don't know how to use my camera.

Either way, I think this photo is appropriate for a bunch of reasons, one being my recent explorations of Flickr. Have you checked out that site? It's pretty great, you can find a photo of anything, including this from the Caffe Fiore page. Whenever I see Andy now, I have that photo in the back of my mind a little. Anyway, the point I was going to make about Flickr was that, as cool as it is, after a couple searches, you might start to feel like we are all out there taking photos of the same twelve things, in the same two ways. It's inevitable with certain things - the Eiffel Tower, right? But then you do a search for something like Freemans, and end up feeling a little silly for being the umpteenth person to take a photo of the horse graffiti in the alley.

I guarantee there isn't an exact replica of today's photo anywhere on Flickr. The photos I took today at Wild Horse Monument? Yeah, not unique. But they are in focus, more or less, and that doesn't really fit a day that was spent driving from Seattle to Missoula with only one and a half stops, and the buggiest windshield you have ever seen. I thought about taking a photo of that, but it was really really gross. And they pretty much have it covered on Flickr anyway.

Tomorrow: Lava Hot Springs and Salt Lake City

Finally

Here's the photo you've been waiting for, Allison - me in the Mean-Eyed Cat hoodie! Like the way I've got the Mean Eye too? I was so grateful for this sweatshirt this weekend.

We hit the road for Portland a little after 6, with lattes in hand. That turned out to be a mistake for me, since a little mishap in the car led to my spilling a full latte all over my coat, down the front of my jeans and all over the back of Kirstin's car. It was a measure of our mood that mostly this just led to a lot of laughing, and a fifteen minute detour to a gas station where Rachel helped me sop up all that milk. I am hoping that Kirstin won't be cursing my name as she drives around this week, smelling the after effects. The coat smelled awful and was totally stiff when it finally dried, so I spent last night walking around Portland in my hoodie and little green leather coat. Luckily we were in taxis most of the time, and there were those warming beverages I had as well, so it all worked out okay.

More on the PDX adventures later. We had a ridiculously good time. If you haven't been out with your girlfriends in a while, plan something now! Something involving music that none of the men in your lives will listen to, and outfits you are not really sure you should wear out in public. Hats, wigs and sunglasses are optional, but they really do add a certain something.

Buy a Banana From a Beatnik

I love this photo even though it was taken with a cell phone.

Mom and I drove down to Portland on Thursday morning to visit with her girlfriends, Ross and Margie. Mom, Ross and Margie all lived together in San Francisco in their twenties, so I was hoping for some good stories, like the one about the catch phrase that appears as the title here.

I'll admit I was a little disappointed that several decades later, they are still the best keepers of each others secrets... maybe there was one little story about a motorcycle trip with a guy named Bill, and some stuff about using tissue paper for curtains because they were too poor to buy any, but I know there was a lot more they didn't give up. Especially since from my bed on the couch in the living room, I listened in on the gossip that happened in the kitchen the next morning and the phrase "love child" was used more than once, and there was also something about the police, a mental breakdown and a peignor. Don't worry, none of the ladies in the photo above were the protagonists of those stories.

Mom had already told me that the blog reminds them of their adventures in SF, so I knew that mom had (surprise!) passed along the blog address to Ross. I have to tell you, she is a very high quality fan to have. Before we arrived at her pretty Portland home for a fantastic dinner, I was told that she reads the blog every morning - sits down with coffee, the New York Times and Shameless Self Promoters. She's one of those people who does the NY Times crossword puzzle in pen, and can sit down and read a novel in a day. She was charming, as was her husband, who held his own at dinner with these, um, exuberant girlfriends. And since I have, for some reason, been having a hard time with the blogging since I got back from CO, it was nice to have the encouragement. Ross, I'll try not to let you down!

Margie is her own fabulous story. I confess that one of the things I loved most about her was that she swears like a sailor, always to maximum comic effect. She's a knitter too, and I suspect that she could teach this Stitch and Bitch generation the meaning of the phrase. I mean that in the best possible way, of course. Every year Margie makes herself a sweater for her birthday. I love that tradition. She also took us to the best french bakery and to a yarn store that I would never have found without her. You know how that will endear me to a person. And then there was her little Lola. Oh Lola! Here's more Lola. There's no such thing as too much Lola.

Hi Ho Durango!

Well, it's the end of the first long day of my road trip! I made it all the way to.... Durango! Yes, Durango. Those of you who have been following my Colorado adventures might now think to yourselves "but isn't Durango, like, 3 hours away from the ranch?" Yes, that's right I drove a whopping three hours today.

After staying up until four in the morning "packing" (a.k.a. looking at photos from Pam's and Gary's Tasmania trip), I was still not packed last night. So I got up in the morning and kept "packing" (a.k.a. admiring how handsome Fenton looked in his new dog bed that is like the La-Z Boy of dog beds) until about 12:30. Then Pam and I looked at the clock and she said "You know, you might consider just spending the night in Durango tonight..." Yeah. Then she made it even more appealing by reminding me that staying in Durango would mean sushi for dinner, and the deal was sealed when we called the hotel she recommended in Durango, the Rochester, and the nice woman on the phone (who asked me "Do you know us?" and when I said "No", said "Oh, you just sounded so friendly I thought you must know us.") told me that they had the "Maverick Queen" room available for me. Perfect.

And guess who the Maverick Queen turned out to be? Barbara Stanwyck, star of the Lady Eve and all around Fast-Talking, Wise-Cracking Dame. I love her, and there she is in all her glory on the poster outside my door. All the rooms in this hotel are named after movies filmed in or around Durango, which sort-of makes it the Wild West movie version of the Sylvia Beach Hotel. The music playing in the lobby when I walked in featured a whistling cowboy. I love whistling cowboys songs!

Clearly this road trip is starting out on a good note. The drive over Wolf Creek Pass was gorgeous, check out the view from the top:

But as gorgeous as that view was, the sushi dinner at East by Southwest might have been even more gorgeous. I realize it seems unlikely that Durango, Colorado would be the home of one of the best sushi restaurants I've ever enjoyed a meal at, but it is.

On the far left is a plate of Kumamoto oyster shells. The oysters, which were prepared with ponzu sauce and wasabi tobiko, were devoured seconds after arriving at the table. And that was just the beginning. Perhaps you are looking at this photo and thinking, damn, that's a lot of sushi for just one person. Well, the best part of this dinner was that Pam and Gary drove over from the ranch to share it with me. I'm going to miss those two. And I'm never going to think twice about driving to Portland again!

Look What I Finally Got

This made me crazy happy today. I have photos of the ocean, of trees, of my two gorgeous poet roommates from the conference, but no, I post a photo of a latte.

I made it to Denver. Now I'm sitting in a hotel room, eating almonds and wasabi peas and drinking Kool-Aid at 2AM. I know, it's an odd meal, but that was all I had left in the car and somehow it never did occur to me to get any dinner tonight. In between getting lost on the way to SFO and then again in Denver and all. What the hell happened to my sense of direction?

Tomorrow is a big day, so I'm not going to write a lot now. A few days ago, I dropped my phone (again) and the flippy screen thing finally broke all the way off, so I need to get a new phone, go to the bank, and do my grocery shopping for the next 37 days. Oh, and there may be some yarn in there somewhere. My big regret is that the Denver Art Museum won't be open.

Then it's the long drive back to Creede, which I'm looking forward to. I never did get to tell you how gorgeous it was on the way out. Gorgeous. Poetry gorgeous.

I'm also looking forward to getting mail when I get back to my little town, and to the dogs running up the driveway, and to settling down to some real writing.

Pam had an article in the Sunday NY Times. Check it out here for a little more about Creede.

Glad a Vermont weekend was FINALLY relaxing!

Thank You Pam Houston, I Have Died and Gone To Writer's Heaven

I almost wrote "Thank You God... etc" as the title of this post, but then I realized I should really thank the one who is directly responsible for the heaven I now find myself in. Maybe God has something to do with it, maybe not. But we know Pam does.

Holy Shit, this conference is good. Good. Good food, beautiful beautiful setting. That's the least of it. Look up the writers who are here, every one of them is amazing. That's as articulate as I can get about it now. I have to go do my work for tomorrow.

This photo is from the night we got lost on the way from the airport to the conference with the poet Dorianne Laux and took 6 hours to do a drive that should have taken an hour and a half. It was one of the most fun nights I've ever had. In. My. Life. And she is a damn good poet. Check out Vacation Sex.

You Know You Want To

Road trip photo album can be found here. I didn't realize until I was all done that you'll have to log in to view photos, sorry, I know that's a pain. I'll use a different photo site for the ranch slide show that I'm going to put together before I take off to Tomales Bay next Wednesday. I have way way more photos than I've posted on the blog.

Oh, and when you view the photos, you will want to do it in some way that allows you to read the captions, otherwise you might be asking yourself "Why am I looking at this photo?". You might ask yourself that anyway - it's surprising the things that will seem funny to you after only talking to dogs for almost two weeks.

The Crazy Rambling Truth Comes Out

I came home from my road trip to Durango with so many thoughts about blog posts.

For example, there’s the one about the actual time spent in Durango. Its title is “Turns Out Groceries Aren’t a Staple After All” and this photo accompanies it.

That post is about how I found the yarn store in Durango (surprise!) and how much I love to visit yarn stores when I travel, because you always end up talking to people there. The woman who I believe owned the Durango yarn store (called, wait for it... Yarn!) told me about someone she met in Seattle in a yarn store, and how that woman told her that she lived in Durango in the 70s, in a tee-pee. "Yup, that's about right for Durango in the 70s!" said the Yarn owner.

Then that post would go on to tell you about how I went and wandered down Main Street, because of course Durango is the kind of town that has a Main Street that really is the main street. I found egg cups, so they will live at the ranch now and everyone will be able to enjoy soft-boiled eggs here. Found the book store and bought "Home Ground", the new book that Barry Lopez edited. (Oh, I just picked it up to look at, and got sucked in! I can't wait to read more) It's a kind of glossary of terms for the American Landscape, written by various authors who have ties to the places and terms they write about. I think Amber recommended it to me, and it's perfect for my life right now.

Then the post starts to get a little hazy, because I want to write about my acquisitive nature, how I think it's funny that I got so excited about "stocking up" on things I have plenty of already, and how I meant to get to the grocery store and ran out of time because I was looking at the bubble bath too long.

But then I also want to write about the other thoughts that were starting to happen in my head around the time I stepped foot in the bookstore. How I asked the man at the counter where he thought the best coffee was, how he said "Well, ask three different people, you'll probably get three different opinions. Some people like Magpies, some people think Durango Coffee Company is the best. I always go to the Bean, cause it's right across the street, and I know the owner, and I think they're just as good as the others." and how I looked around this big bookstore, which I thought resembled Elliott Bay Books, with all that rough wood, and good displays, tables and tables of pretty hard-cover books, and thought "I could live in Durango".

Whew, that's a lot of reading - here, you need a photo.

Or maybe a photo from the yarn store wasn't what you were hoping for...

So I'm thinking that, but also some other things are coming up when I hit my next stop, the CD store (no surprise there). The guy at the counter, who has a beard and maybe some piercings, or at least gives the impression of being the sort of 20-something who has piercings, says "Hey." and kinda seems like in spite of looking all tough, he couldn't exaclty get up the courage to look at me, and oh by the way he's got that judgemental CD-store-guy aura going too, and I say "Hey, how are you." and then without meaning to, sort-of turn away so that it's obvious I don't really want to know, but I really would be curious to know, so then I feel like a jerk. Just a little.

Which, of course, gets me thinking about interacting with people. Mostly about how much I like it. And I think about that as I walk through the CD store, and again when the guy doesn't really do much better looking at me when I go up to the counter to buy my CDs, and then he gets into an animated thing with a wiry grey-haired woman in Tevas who is looking for something she heard about on NPR, and I just really like that, I like hearing what they say to each other.

So I'm thinking all that, about little interactions, and how I'm always noticing the temperature between people, and how interesting that is to me, when I go across the street to "the Bean", which is really named "The Steaming Bean". There are a few people milling around the counter the way people do at coffee shops, so you can't really tell if they've ordered, or haven't, or what they are doing, but behind the counter is this young girl, and she has this teenage way of looking at you with her chin tilted down, out from underneath these bangs that her mom probably wishes she would cut, and she looks at me and asks what I'd like, so I order.

And I truly apologize that I don't have a photo for you here.

The Bean is my last stop in Durango and I'm leaving a little later than I meant to be, since I don't want to do Wolf Creek Pass in the dark, but still I get sucked in to this teeny girl who's making the coffee. She's got to be a good 3 inches shorter than me, and her hair is this really fine blond hair that she has dyed black underneath, and she's got the whole black-and-white-striped shirt/hoody/grommeted belt look going and then this guy walks up, and you can see that they know each other, he's a tall kid, like, Andy and Bobby tall, and he's wearing one of those shirts that young guys wear when they are going out to Red Door, you know, the button-up kind, untucked, with some kind of pattern on it that makes you think of sheets, stripes or something, and the shirt is a little rumpled, like the hair.

So the barista girl, with her little glances and her quiet voice, says something to him that he doesn't really hear, and so then the interaction goes like this, with tall kid starting:

What did you say?
I said How are you doing?
Oh! I thought you said something else. I'm Grrreat!

And then tall kid slams his hand down on the books he has set on the glass countertop, so that the girl jumps and drops something, and he startles himself even, and pulls his hand back towards his chest and says “Oh shit, did I do that?” and she goes to pick whatever it is up and mumbles "No, it's okay." and you know for sure that he likes her, and that he probably picked those books out as carefully as he picked the shirt, and you're not sure, but somehow, somehow you think she probably likes him too. Maybe it's the way she gave him a little shy embarrassed smile when she had to repeat herself, or the fact that she sort-of tugged at her shirt a little more while he was standing there.

But you are probably thinking at this point, "And Heather is telling me about this, Why?"

Which means you need another photo.

Such pretty pretty trees

But there is a reason, and it's this: I loved them. I loved these two, doing their awkward teenage love dance. And I loved the guy in the CD store, and the yarn store women, and I loved the guy who told me to go to the Bean and the teenager who sold me bubble bath.

But as much as I love them, there are people I love EVEN MORE in the world, and the striped shirt and the tall kid and the big bubbles in my latte made me think of Andy and Bobby (duh) and the girl behind the counter made me think of Josie, and Josie being 16 when I first met her, and that made me think of Kristin, and so did the quote that was painted on the wall in the bathroom at the coffee shop, cause where else did we go that had quotes on the wall? I don't know, it seemed a little like Rimsky's in Portland, which also makes me think of Amber, who I was already thinking of because of that book I bought, and the bubble bath made me think of Susan, and the CSNY CD I bought made me think of all my old regulars at the bar where I worked in NY, and there was some yarn that I thought might make something good for my mom, and really it goes on and on...

... so that's what is happening in my head as I get in my car. I love thinking about all these people. And there are so many more people I love thinking about. I'm also thinking about my sister and her husband, since I just wrote that post about him, then I'm thinking "I hope Shack doesn't read the Shack post and hate it". And I feel compelled here, dear reader, to give you a picture, because I know this is an awful lot of words to read and I can't believe you are still here reading them...

So so beautiful, but not as beautiful as all the people I love so so much.

Anyway,I hit the road and the CD that's on is Jets to Brazil, "Four Cornered Night" which makes me think of Rob, that cute bartender who came to karaoke with us the night of my sister's rehearsal dinner, and how he called me from NY for months after that any time he had a bad day, and what all of this adds up to is really how much I love people. To what an absolutely insanely ridiculous degree I love them.

Maybe that's an obvious statement. Maybe that's something that no one who reads this blog is really going to be surprised by. And yet, it surprised me. Like, fully-clothed body thrown into cold ocean Surprised me.

I don't know that I can capture this, exactly, but some of it had to do with realizing that someone else in my position, they would get their energy from the trees, from the gorgeous sweeping views, from Nature. For lots of people, those things are very restorative. And I've always felt a little, just a little, bad that I'm not more of an outdoorsy girl, being from the Pacific NW and all. I like the outdoors, don't get me wrong. But we all know I am not going to be the one to pack up the tent and make sure we get out there. I get what it's all about, it's just not what drives me.

Even the pretty river view, not what drives me.

Duh, the people thing, that's what drives me. They are like trees to me (this is what I'm thinking as I drive through the kind of scenery that makes you ooh and aah and stop the car to try and take photos of what a photo will never capture), every person is as beautiful as a tree, and then that's a silly thing to think, so I think "Good post title - 'Why People Are Like Trees'" because it's just so dumb.

Then the Jets to Brazil song "All Things Good and Nice" comes on and it's over the TOP how perfect that song is, because it's totally funny and just balls-out sappy. I hate to use that phrase, but it belongs here. The first line is "I love my mother". Seriously.

Anyway, this all has me so so very happy, pleased with the world in this insanely profound way, like I know what it's all about for me, even though yes, it is totally obvious and maybe doesn't sound that profound unless you've driven more than 200 miles all by yourself that day... SO when Kristin sends me this email this morning that just happens to talk about everything I've been thinking about the last 24 hours, including: “it's funny to watch how you are handling isolation- so far, and even before you left, as if in anticipation, you've written these blogs about people, where you seem to be trying to conjure them up with so many words.”, I laugh. Of course. Of course that's what I do. That's what my whole LIFE does.

And when I tell Pam about Kristin's comment on the phone, she laughs too, but she's laughing because actually I have only had one night here at the ranch when there wasn't someone else here. "You probably feel lke you haven't had a moment's peace!" she says.

So, I know I sound like a nut, and if you are still reading, really, please, you have to tell me that you read this because I will just love you so much more forever and ever because it truly is too much to ask, for you to get through all this rambling, just to hear me say:

I AM A PEOPLE PERSON.

...and dogs are people too.

Oh, it's so awful, such an awful thing to say you are, it just sounds like a floral jumper or something. It reminds me of how when I was a teenager and used to panhandle downtown, I really wanted to look all tough, and I pierced my ears myself a bunch of times and wore all the black eyeliner, but people, I had chubby cheeks. I did not look tough. I looked like a chipmunk. Eventually, I had to let the tough thing go (but I am tough, yo!) and accept that if anything, I was cute. Not intimidating or mysterious or exotic or whatever. Cute. Like now, I have to accept that I am a people person. This is why I crave art and music, why I am fascinated by strangers and can do more phone interviews in a week than almost anyone you know, and why no one will ever take me up on the bet where I say "What will you give me if I go talk to that guy over there?". And in fact, it's even why I sometimes have those days, and some of you have gotten this phone call (Kirsten, Erin!), where I say "I hate EVERYONE!".

Which makes it a good time for a photo break.

The road back to the ranch

Please understand, none of this means that I don't like being here by myself, or that I am not looking forward to the next few months. I do really like being alone (it means I have more uninterrupted time to think about people and how much I love them, right?).

So. There you go, that's what I've realized the first week on the ranch, when I was really not so very isolated or by myself.

And if I haven't said it recently, I especially love you. You, who actually read this far, I do. Or you wouldn't have my blog address. Or I wouldn't want to write this insanely long post that only you will read.

XOXO
H

P.S. I hope you went out tonight and then came home and just for kicks looked at the blog because it seems like this post would be a lot better if you were a little tipsy. Most of you. With one exception. You know who you are.

Day 12 Facts and Statistics

Looks fake, doesn't it? It's not!

Miles driven today: 270.5

Number of days I've actually stayed at the ranch without going anywhere: 2

High temperature: 70, Durango

Low temperature: 40, Wolf Creek Pass

CDs listened to in the car:

• Lynyrd Skynyrd - Skynyrds Innyrds
• Scud Mountain Boys - Massachusetts
• Neko Case - Blacklisted
• Bobby Bare Jr - From the End of Your Leash
• My Morning Jacket - It Still Moves
• Jets to Brazil - Four Cornered Night (thank you Lansky's Rob)

Beaver Creek, Cat Creek, Deep Creek, Lime Creek, Wolf Creek, Middle Creek

Pagosa Springs, Aspen Springs, Turkey Springs

Cost of latte in Durango: $2.80, but what does it mean when the bubbles in the foam on top are big, instead of all silky and plush? Oh, well. It still tasted better than gas station coffee.

At the end of my adventure, I got to come home to this sight, plus three good dogs, who ran up the driveway to meet me.

Hope you all had a day just as beautiful.

Day 5 - Still Alive

This could be your view 8 hours a day! And there's singing!

Hours today spent in the car: Nearly all of them
Cheesy CDs boughts at Wal-Mart: 4
Number of times Biz Marky sang his hit single "Just a Friend" to us: 3
Percentage of lyrics of all songs ever written in the entire existence of pop music that Heather and Susan know: 67% (just enough to mess up the words to any of them)
Number of times Susan complained about Heather's warbling in the car: 0
Number of times Susan warbled herself: 0 (hearing how someone sounded made her think better of it)
Minutes spent looking for any kind of espresso in small towns in Nevada: 37
Number of days on the road before you convince yourself that those Starbucks things you get in the bottle in a grocery store actually taste pretty good: 4
Number of cops who pulled up next to us with their lights going: 2
Susan's heart rate while Heather was pulling over and saying "Aw, hell no, you are NOT going to pull me over for doing 80!": 90 bpm
Number of cops on 80 who actually pulled us over: 0
Text messaging as a way for girls to stay awake on the road: if there's a cute boy on the other end of it, we're gonna give that a 10
Number of seconds the woman at the check-in desk in Salt Lake City gave us a "look" after Heather told her that it didn't matter whether our room had one bed or two: 6 (think about it! one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand...)
Times in her life Susan wished she was married to Heather and could say so out loud: 1
Number if interesting pictures taken yesterday: does the one of the tiny bottles that came on the room service tray count? we were just too damn tired to go out for pretty sushi. if so, then: 1

Day 4 without Statistics

Dear Circus Circus hotel and casino in Reno, NV,

For someplace with so many frills (a super ball machine in the lobby? glow in the dark air hockey?), you sure have sucky internet. For crying out loud, you have a circus!

When I call for tech support, please do not tell me that 2 bars out of 4 is perfectly fine. Please do not ask me if I have any idea what I am doing. 2 bars is not fine, and no, I do not have any idea what I'm doing - that's your job! Please just fix the internet, ASAP .

We have a blog to do.

Love,
~Susan

ed. note: Truth is, she just doesn't want you to hear about the hair-pulling, birthday cake-stealing, clown-punching, up-all-night, naked crying fest that was Reno. Plus she is still pissed that she only made $87 in sweaty $1 bills at amateur night at Harrahs. I think $87 is pretty good for an amateur stripper. Just don't tell them about that six-week stint at the Spearmint Rhino back in '92. Nursing school's expensive, people.

Day 4 Statistics - Part 1 - San Francisco

• cuteness level of Josie - 11 (out of 10)
• age of Josie in Heather's head - 16
• scandal level in Heather's head when we found out that Josie lives with her boyfriend Jay, also an 11 on the cuteness scale (he sings in the shower! he's a fifth grade teacher!) -10
• actual scandal level, since Josie is, in fact, 11 years later, now 27 - 0
• fancy beverages consumed at brunch (can it still be brunch on a Wednesday?) - 3

• minutes spent waiting for them to unlock the yarn store in SF: 8, but it felt longer because it was such a dorky thing to do
  
• skeins of yarn Heather bought at Imagiknit: 10 (but 2 were for Josie!)
• Squirrel, hamster, or bird-related cute things bought by Heather today: do I have to count the stickers individually?
• Pastries bought at Boulange for mid-afternoon snacks: 8, including 2 more canelés

Day 3 Statistics - part two

• Photos taken of trees today: 17
• Average number of tree pieces that will stick to a girl's back after she gets up from staring at trees from the forest floor: 34
• Trees Heather sat inside today: 3 including the one we drove through

• Number of hairpin turns on the roads we took today: Susan would have kept track, but counting made her want to throw up
• Chances that Susan will allow herself to be a passenger in a car of Highway 1 ever again: Slim to none
• Pieces of sashimi Heather ate for dinner in San Francisco tonight: 12

• Pieces of sushi Susan ate for dinner: Not even close!
• Vintage dresses, gowns and lingerie hung on the walls of Kristin's Cole Valley home: 12
• Photos Heather took of aforementioned dresses etc along with Freda's assortments of interesting things:16

• Stitches Heather knitted while watching the season premier of Veronica Mars and catching up with Josie: 448

Knitting a sock for Andy. Oh, wait until I tell you about Andy!

• Number of redheads sleeping in the bed right now: 2 if you count the cat

Sometimes you just need to stare at the sea

After driving for hours, Heather turned Mo around the 1,234th curve in the road and we saw this.

Spectacular.

~S

Redwoods are best viewed while lying on forest floor.

Today we saw some of the most beautiful trees... It was a splendid day, and the light was filtering through the branches just right.

Stunning.

~S

Day 3 Statistics

Good morning, readers, it's time to leave Crescent City and head to San Francisco with a detour to the coast!

P.S. We discovered the self-timer

A few more numbers for you:

• Body parts an EconoLodge so-called bath towel will dry: 27, if you give it credit for all the bones in your hand
• Cups of coffee Susan drank in the motel room before 8:30 AM: 3
• minutes it took us to find Dutch Brothers espresso stand: approx. 2.5

price of two lattes, one double with vanilla, one single tall: $5

• Elk seen hanging out in someone's front yard: at least half a dozen
• Elk seen hanging out under "Elk Crossing" sign: 27

• Times we can listen to Grease without getting sick of it: Infinity
• Times we can listen to Summer Lovin' without getting sick of it: Not as many
• Average number of times a Susan mix CD was listened to in a given day, over the last 3 days: 2.5

Day 3 - This is Not About Statistics

Susan opens the mailbag

A Reader in Seattle writes in: "Are you guys really counting stuff like this?"
Susan responds: "What should we count?"
Reader in Seattle replies: "Nothing! You are on vacation, this isn't about statistics!"

Fine, Reader in Seattle. Think of it as an inventory, or better yet, a catalog of delights! Is that better? Now stop collaborating with my Inner Editor.

But thanks for the photoshopping. You're right, we do look taller and thinner. Just don't tell Tyra.