Shop Local? Screw That

After countless issues of bad customer service, long waits and poor selection at the various merchants here, my dear and I have decided that while I am in Houston, we are going to start an import business. If he needs something, he calls me, I go buy it and I will mail it to him. It will save time, money but more importantly, extreme psychological distress.

I am probably already suffering from post-traumatic shopping disorder as I write this, I might need to sue. However, I know how slow the courts moved in Houston, and given that I can go to any store in Houston, buy an item and be back in my car in 2 minutes, where the same experience here would take 3.2 days, I might need to have my heirs handle the lawsuit for me. Would you be a dear and remind me to add that to my list of things to include in my will?

Call your friends that reside in small towns, see if they would like to start up an import business. Perhaps they need some new jeans, a weed whacker, a cute purse, a cat tree, Toblerone bars, etc, etc.

You too can stop small town post traumatic shopping disorder and countless frivolous lawsuits.

Dinner

I did not want to cook tonight. I had some chicken that I could have baked up real quick, but decided that I wanted to just grab something. So while my dear did some work that had to be finished tonight, I headed out to pick up dinner.

I went to KFC. They had a special going 10 piece meal, two sides, some drink thing, blah blah blah. They usually have a number of sides available. Tonight, they had mashed potatoes, green beans and baked beans. No original recipe chicken. Oh and they were also out of Dr. Pepper. I contemplated my options, and decided that I would decline their limited options. I left the drive thru line, called my dear and after agreeing on a different spot, I headed up the street to Arby’s.

There was no one in the drive thru line, so I pulled right up to the box. And was promptly greeted. I provided my order, slowly, pausing between each item. After I finished ordering the two meals, the girl asked, “Ok, a #2” “Yes” “And what side with that?” “Curly fries” I responded. “Ok, and what to drink” “Lemonade” “Is that all?” My foolishness, I responded yes, assuming she got the second meal that I had already ordered. But then she confirmed, that I had but one order. No, so I repeated the second meal, at 1/10 of the speed I had originally ordered. And she confirmed both meals and requested I pull up. I sat at the window for awhile while she took the order of the gent behind me. Between changing stations on the XM, I watched what was going on inside. There was a separate woman putting together the order, and presumably, one in the kitchen area. The one that I was able to see had long hair, that was not restrained. And while I waited, and waited, and waited, I imagined long hairs breaking off, into my curly fries. And then, after 2 songs on channel Highway 16, after I still had not been greeted at the window nor requested to provide payment for my meals, I saw the girl wipe her nose, wipe her pants and continue to stand in the window where the food is dropped. And I sat. Listening to Tim McGraw. And thought…is it worth it? I had already left one restaurant. Yet, I pulled out of a second one. I felt guilty doing so, the chicken was probably already fried up, ready to be slapped on a bun, a quick swipe of mayo and boogers and I could have got my dinner and headed home. Yet I left.

I decided that I would next try Dairy Queen. There was a bit of a line both inside and at the drive thru, so I phoned a friend while sitting in line at the drive thru. The line moved promptly enough and before you know it, I am ordering a steak finger basket and flamethrower chicken sandwich basket. I then proceed to the first window, provide my credit card as payment. And wait. And wait. And wait. Then a girl, not the one that took my card, asks what I ordered. I stall, Is this a trick question? Shouldn’t she know what I ordered. And she does! Food! Yes, indeed, I did order food! Thank you! And she asks me to pull up to the second window so they can serve the people behind me. But I protest, the other girl has my card. “Oh?” She responds, and walks off, searching for the girl that is running amuck with my Visa card. Shortly, the first girl, the holder of my card returns to the first window and requests that I pull up to the second window. I tell her that she still has my card. She responds that they will have my card and my food at the second window and will I please move out of the frigging way! Irritated, but understanding the way things work, I pull up. And wait, and wait and wait. Finally, the manager, in his regal blue uniform opens the second window and exclaims that the credit card machine isn’t working. Do I have cash? What a silly question, he asked me. Does anyone carry cash anymore? Visa/MC runs commercials on the silly nature of those souls that pay with cash. I do not have cash. Bah! Ah, but… shortly after moving here and seeing people utilizing these strange contraptions, I started carrying these pieces of paper in my wallet. You put the name of the business, the amount of the sale and sign your name, and the business takes it, just like cash! I believe that they are called “Checks”. I have not seen one nor written on one in many moons, but I hear that they are wildly popular in these areas. Yet, this gentleman, this purveyor of the Queen refused. My scrap of paper was not welcome, my bit of plastic spurned. And so I left. I left the establishment, with nothing to show for my time.

Three eateries. No satisfaction. I stubbornly decided that cold turkey sandwiches would suffice. I turned my car towards my home. Throughout the ordeal at Dairy Queen, I continued to talk to my friend. She spoke very highly of a different type of pizza joint. Where they make the pizza in front of you, you take it home and cook it in your own stove. Papa Murphy’s. My friend discussed how she loves them. You can order any type of pizza, anything you like. And the chocolate chip cookies! YUM! I warned her that she had better not pump up the place too much. She had not had Papa Murphy’s in BFE, New Mexico. She laughed and said that she would give me a ring tomorrow to see how it went. And we hung up.

Now, I have such an affinity for Papa John’s, I assumed anything “Papa” must be worthy of my time. I pulled a U-eee (How do you type that out? A you-ee, I did a U-turn) and headed towards Papa Murphy’s. Their open sign was dimmed, but it was only 8:10, so I walked in, where I was not greeted. There were two teens working behind the counter, yet I walked around a bit, looked at their line, which was much like Subway’s meal line with slots for the various toppings, which was already cleaned out. I asked if I could still get a pizza. After a bit of a "ahem", look, I was informed that they had pizzas pre-made, she thought pepperoni, maybe some other things. I asked if they had cheese already on them. A jolt ran through me. This must be what it is like to have a teenage daughter under your roof. She shot me a look as if I was the stupidest person she had run into this month and sarcastically responded, “Yes.” I quickly said, “I do not want your damn pizza” and fled. Ok, maybe I didn’t say that exactly, but I should have.

Four places. Four. This was becoming comical. I headed down the street, willing to accept nearly anything at this point. McDonald’s drive-thru was packed. Wendy’s was packed.

Utter frustration set in. The remaining choices on the short list of available restaurants were less than appetizing. I would rather have a cold turkey sandwich.

However, grocery stores! They have delis! And rotisserie chicken!! Hot rotisserie chicken!!

So, I pulled another You-EEE and headed towards Albertson’s.

Yea. You guessed it. The deli was shutting down. It was now around 8:20. Of course, the deli has fucking shut down. The chickens? Gone! For holy fucks sake.

Near tears, starving and pissed to my frigging gills, I headed to the frozen food aisle, picked up some TV dinners, nearly ran to the alcohol section, got a bottle of a fast acting elixir. Bahama Mama from Bacardi. And headed to the checkout.

As is customary in this town, I was carded. They card everyone. No worries, but….the checkout girl looks at my birthday and at me and at my ID again and says wow, you look great for your age!

And I proceeded home. With multiple TV dinners and a large bottle of medicine.

And I, as I was preparing the second TV dinner for each of us, I asked myself, why the FUCK do we have to stir the potatoes 8 times. Bollocks!!

And this, all this, is to say that I had a really hard time getting dinner tonight. But in the end, I got drunk, so it was an okay birthday after all.

Fun Monday: Why I Blog (And My Super Secret Diaries)

Fun Monday is here!! Lisa has asked, "I’d like to know more about you, what makes you tick. I’d like to know how you started blogging. Did you keep a diary under lock and key safely hidden as a child? Do you still? Do you share the same things on your blog that you would have, or do, in your diary? Why did you start blogging and why do you continue? May as well throw in any roadblocks you have run into while blogging. If you still have your old diaries we’d love to see them."


I bet the first blog I ever read was Dooce. I then moved onto a long list of bloggers, starting off with personal finance bloggers. One of my favorite things was when someone commented on a site I read, I would click the link and read their blog. While I really don't know where I found most of my favorite bloggers anymore, I bet this is how I found a majority of them. I currently have 25 blogs on my favorites list that I go through each day to read about their lives.

I started blogging earlier this year, I believe, out of loneliness. I had various random thoughts that I wanted to tell someone, but I don’t have any friends here, and I didn’t think it was fair to call my friends that are scattered around the States every day to tell them one small inane thing that happened during my day. Further, many of my friends and family did not agree with the path I took early this year, not working and selling on Ebay. I was tired of hearing the various biting comments from these folks, so I decided it would be better to throw up all over the innernet what my loved ones didn’t seem to want to hear.

I have only been here for a few months and during the past few weeks have run into my first problems. I am generally a positive upbeat person, but the last several weeks have found me to be unhappy and just in a negative state of mind. I haven’t posted much as result. Not posting at first, was disappointing to myself until I loosened up and remembered that this here thing is for me first. If I don’t want to write, I don’t need to. I hope to get back in the groove soon.

As for my written diaries, pulling these out has been a delight!

I had many forms of diaries as a child, and of course, pre-teen to teen years. I apparently destroyed these over the years. Man, I sure wish I had these still!!

This is the oldest "diary" I have. This notebook....I scribbled all over it.

And the most important thing. I wrote "Stay Out" on the cover. I am sure this kept my nosy sister out of it.

The notebook doesn't really contain personal entries, but tons of poems. Most I found, some I wrote. Yikes.

The one above was written by one of my best friend's older sisters. Awesome.

I wrote this one. It is dated January 7, 1992. I would have just moved to Texas. I have an idea who this was written for, but that story really isn't worth writing about.

However, I am so proud of myself!! Look at the last paragraph. I was a stupid high school sophomore. And had enough self-worth to write that. I may not have always acted like it, but at least I wrote it!

For a couple years, I kept daily entries on my oh so busy life in calendars like these.

Here is an entry . I was in school at the time. Check out the highlighting. I was so organized.

Here is a year or two later. I must have just got my cat, Daisy. She ultimately lost the cat lottery. Those numbers are from when I was bartending. The first number would be tips, the second tipshare. Not too shabby.

I have had this notebook for many years. I handwrote many of my favorite poems in here.


Look at the lowercase. What a dork.

Now e.e. cummings, that should be in lowercase.


This is my latest diary. (And Cass' feet, it just seemed wrong to crop her out of it) I don't write in her frequently. The first entry is dated during Dec. 2004. The last, November 2006. And only 12 pages have been written on.

This entry has to be my favorite.

This was written just a few days after I left my ex. I had been hurt by other people's reactions to my leaving him, my so-called friends. However, I knew I had done the right thing.

I found another item that isn't necessarily a diary, but it has a ton of memories in it. It is definitely an insight into my younger self. However, it is huge....and will have to wait until another day this week.

Go see everyone else's reasons for blogging! I love this topic and can't wait to read everyone's entries!!

AWWWWWW!!

Aren’t things so much cuter when they are small? A miniature anything is just freaking adorable. If I saw a baby scorpion, I would think AWWWW what a cute wittle bebeh scorpion. Just as I crushed it, burned it and spread its ashes on my doorstep as a warning to all the other cute little bebeh scorpions.

You simply can't resist the adorable-ness of miniatures!

But you know what is cuter and makes a person go AWWWWW twice as loud….a tiny thing that you feel sorry for. A poor little tiny sick bebeh anything.
So feel sorry for Poor Little Sophie, the relapsing queen. Yesterday, one of her eyes was a tad gooey, but ya know, maybe she stayed up late partying and was a tad hungover. I understand how it goes…. But this morning, there was no denying that we had a problem. Both eyes were gooey and the bad one was much cloudier than it had been just the day before.

As a result, today I have learned a few things. Vets won’t give you their precious meds without being a patient. Even just penicillin and some eye goop. Damn licensing laws.

Further, you can’t buy simple meds like penicillin and eye goo online (or at Walmart!) without a prescription. I did find one Canadian site where I could get the eye goo, but it would take too long to arrive.

I wasn’t able to squeeze the poor little sad bebeh into the one open clinic. However, after much begging, crying and perhaps a small payoff and promise of future offspring, I was able to obtain some eye goop from the previous extortionist veterinarian poor sickly pathetic weak Sophie, visited. The vet thought the deal of future red headed children was sweet enough that she helped me out even though the clinic was closed.

And now, icky little baby Sophie is in the isolation tank that is our bedroom. The lights are dimmed for her poor sad little eyeballs. Or perhaps because the roof leak is back. Either reason, the lights are out.

She is missed by all members of the household, especially the hungry ones:



Get Well Soon!

Am I Ready to Be a Parent?

Is this what I have to look forward to?

Yikes.


If that doesn't work....go to Ebay, in the search box paste 130144061675

Kaytabug, this post is for you!

Desert Oasis

If I haven’t disparaged my current residence enough, let me just say once again that I am in an oil town. The places where oil is found are not pretty. Dinosaurs left the pretty green areas and found barren wastelands to die in. They knew the end was coming and started walking until they found flat, cactus ridden, brown areas and only then did they succumb to death.

The town itself is not wealthy. Those that come to pull the dead animal juice from the ground take the money and split, going back to places where trees dwell. The lifers here are not very well-off and so the town doesn't have pretty well-manicured subdivisions. Or even pretty well-manicured trailer parks.

In my attempts to rise from the pissiness (and fatness), I have gone running the past 2 days. At the one spot in town where green is found, where trees grow, where I pretend to be Elsewhere. This golf course/park/recreation area is one area in town that is pretty. The grass hasn’t been snuffed out with rocks, the cactus has been cut back, and the tumbleweed carcasses don’t litter the fence lines.







There's No Place Like Home. There's No Place Like Home.

Do Do Do Do Do...I'm Loving It!

Still working on rising from the funk. And worse? I am a copycat. Thanks, Bev!


Things I am Currently Loving:

Homemade pizza. No worry that the pizza guy will a) think I am crazy for wanting cheese free pizza, and then b) pick off the cheese from the pizza because the pizza guy neglected to leave it off.

Not Craig. He is incredibly kind and loving to his crazy girl even after a ridiculously long day at work.

New Mexican Skies.

Viewing pics of Kitten (perhaps named Sophie, or Sofa, or Sofapilla) and comparing then with now.




Anticipation of meeting my new niece.

Clean sheets. It’s the small things, folks!

Thoughts of a new creative pursuit. Do I make an apron? Do I finish my 15 year old cross stitch? Do I dare try knitting again? I so sucked at that!

Kind words from innernet strangers in response to my funk.

Ebay sales.

Dreams of the future.

That the scorpion on my kitchen floor this morning was nearly dead. Which would add Orkin to the loving list.

Best friends.

That is a good start.... like a phoenix...I rise from the pissiness. Wait....that doesn't sound right....

My Lie

Here it is, Fun Monday so soon again. But as my last few posts have shown, I am not in a fun mood recently. I have been down in the dumps for a couple days now. I wrote this post and well, it isn't happy, it isn't fun, but it is oh so true.

So it stands.

But I will try to get cheery over the next couple of days. I promise. Or I will just start drinking before I blog. Hmmm...maybe this post can wait until I get a Shiner...brb....please entertain yourself while I take a drinking break...

mmmm....better already....

My lie is told by many, many women. I know I inherited the gene from my mother, who inherited it from her mother and so it goes back to Sweden where maybe this genetic defect originated. Damn Swedes.

So here we go:


I repeatedly tell a lie. The same lie over and over. I catch myself in the middle of it, yet am unable to hold back, take it back or admit the truth.

I say, I can do it. I can take care of it. I can handle everything. I can handle each and every task that is asked of me, along with my eleventy billion things already on my list and keep the house spotless and have a 7 course meal on the table promptly at 6:00.

I liken myself to Superwoman. I can do it all. In heels, with a smile. You need me to iron this shirt for you? Go buy a box of Twinkies? Complete all these TPS reports by 8:00 A.M. tomorrow? Sure, just as soon as I pick the house up off this poor little old woman and detail the car.

I know this is my problem. I know that all it would take is a single, one syllable word. No. But who do I need to say that simple word to? Them or myself?

I know that half of the problem is my neuroses. The world needs to be perfect, complete and well-dusted.

I know that I should ease up on myself. I know that if I did, if I could, I could be a lot happier, a lot more in the moment.

And I do. I ease up. I let the laundry basket get full, I let the trash overflow. I let dishes sit in the sink. I am proud of my ability to be (for me) slothful.

And then…. I am asked to stop at the store and pick up a 12 pack of Cokes. My boss asks me to redo the 17th revision of a Motion. And I am exhausted and overwhelmed. And I probably get tears. And then I start the vicious cycle again. My home is made spotless through the tears, my surroundings become organized while inside I crumble.

Yet I continue to do it. Because I am a liar. I can do it all. But I really can’t do it all. And I know that all I have done is lie. To you, to him, to her, to the cats. But most of all, to myself.

I May Have Found a New BFF

This is wholly inappropriate on a Sunday, but what am I, if not wholly inappropriate.



Lots o' cussing here. Because that's the way we like it, uh huh, uh huh.

TWF Seeking INBFF

As you get older, your friends thin out. The things that you had in common, school, classes, boys, love for the mall, begin to fade. Your common links become less and less.

Yet it is so hard to let go, to separate yourself from this person you called your best friend, your good friend, your buddy for so many years.

But I have moved past wanting a vacuous relationship based on a common interest in Macy’s shoe department. I don’t care to discuss ad nauseam what he means when he calls the day after you put out but doesn’t want to get together until 2 weeks from Friday.

I don’t want to go have over-priced margaritas while we talk about how that bitch you work with wore an outfit that didn’t match and she will probably get promoted even though she doesn’t deserve it, just because she has big tits.

I want to move past that, I want to grow up. I want to talk about our dreams for the future, how to save enough money to buy a house, how we are sick of boys and want to be treated right and find a man that is ready to settle down and buy a dog and watch CNBC with.

I would rather get together for an inexpensive meal at my place and watch a movie, than go get our drink on at the local meat market.

.......

How do you transform an early 20’s friendship into a mature one? How do you not leave your closest friend behind when you have moved past their greatest interests?

Can you walk the fine line between the two?

This Meme Means Happiness

I know I should be typing about Vegas here. But ya know, I don’t wanna. I feel poopy today and this is my little piece of innernet and, It’s My Prerogative, I can do what I wanna do, but not in a crack-smoking Bobbie way and definitely not in a whore-y Britney way, just My Way, more like Sinatra.

I have been feeling icky for the last few days. I can’t say that I have any real physical ailment, I haven’t been going to bed at a decent hour all week, I haven’t worked out in some time and there is a Tropical Storm in Houston and I am not there to enjoy it. And so I am feeling yucky and want to watch some crappy TV and snack all day. I want to curl up with my blankie and have my mom bring me Sprite and toast while I watch the Monchichi’s.

The Pop Culture Librarian tagged the blogosphere with the aptly named Stuart Smalley meme. The task is to list 10 rockin’ things about yourself. I need this right about now.

1. I have a huge heart. I can empathize like nobody’s business. I want you to tell me how life has beaten you up and then I will give you a big hug and cry with you.
2. I can have a good time anytime, anywhere. Wow, that sounds dirty. I don’t get bored. I make the best of whatever lame-o situation I find myself in.
3. I don’t hold grudges. I can’t. I can’t remember what bad, evil thing a person may have done to hurt me in the first place, in order to hold a grudge. I forget mean behavior in those I love, very quickly.
4. I love animals. I will feed all strays. I will take in wayward kittens. I will stop in the middle of the Houston HOV to rescue a stranded pup.
5. I am funny in a very goofy-make you turn that frown upside down-sort of way.
6. I am hardworking and diligent in both my personal and professional life. You want something done? Ask me to do it.
7. I am honest. I will not cheat or lie or take advantage of a person for my own gain.
8. I am optimistic to the extreme. I look on the bright side of all situations. I see the good in people and always give others the benefit of the doubt.
9. I am polite. I will open the door for others. I will wave when merging in traffic. I will pick up items that someone dropped. I say please and thank you.
10. I have gorgeous red hair. And some nice junk in the trunk. Hey, self love, folks, self love!
    

So ya’ll go get your self-loving on!! But make sure and shut the blinds first.

Next to the Last Vacation Post... (Unless I change my mind. Cuz it's my perogative. I can do what I want to do.)

So, we just left the Grand Canyon.

Before you hit Sin City, you have to go over the Hoover Dam. And it is a sight. My appreciation for the Dam multiplied or at the very least doubled, due to the Transformers movie. Hey, I am just a silly girl, not a history/geology/architecture buff. I couldn’t really care less about it. But it was perty in the movie. And, of course it stood between me and Vegas.


It is an amazing structure. It is fascinating that way back when they had barely created cars, they could build something of this magnitude. But ya know, my waxing all philosophic could have also just been the heat stroke I was experiencing.
So, the dedication of the Dam on September 30, 1935 by FDR, included a mural, star map, and winged figures with now quite well-rubbed toes which were designed by Oskar J.W. Hansen. The star map indicates “dates of historical importance, linking the moment the Hoover Dam was dedicated with such events as the building of the pyramids and the birth of Christ. Hansen believed that "in remote ages to come, intelligent people" would be able to discern "the astronomical time of the dam's dedication”.
So… follow me here, guys….on the most modern structure that, at the time, had ever been constructed, the crowning achievement coming out of the Public Works Project, which employed thousands during the Great Depression, on this testament to the genius of the American mind, there is a monument, a map for future visitors to our planet.

On a government project that, in the 1930’s cost $48 million, commissioned by the U.S. government, there stands a roadmap for aliens.

Oh, I understand. Roswell never happened. Area 51 doesn’t hold Martians. Yet the U.S. Government can pay a Norwegian immigrant buttloads of cash to send a message to aliens.
I don’t buy it, but then again, maybe, just maybe, FDR lost his ass at the craps table in Vegas and this Hansen guy bailed him out.

Vacation Summary Installment Deux

So after we finished walking around the beautiful city of Santa Fe, and after I reassured (with my toes crossed) my Dear that I was perfectly fine to travel cross-country, we proceeded to leave Santa Fe. However, the dear hadn’t been inside a Best Buy for a couple months. Every time we visit a city of any decent size, we make an obligatory stop at Best Buy. The Santa Fe Best Buy was surprisingly easy to find. In fact, it was quite close to the Motel 6 that drove me to tears the night before.

Here we are, two people, driving a thousand miles from home, with no real destination in mind day to day without as much as an atlas. What better to buy than XM? Tom Tom. Or Tomasina as I call her. The British lass who instructs me to turn right and take the Moto-way.

We then headed to the nearest Starbucks and set up Tom Tom. This system is EXCELLENT! Quite user friendly. Great price (we got the smallest one for $250.00). Excellent features. Absolute life saver! My new travel BFF.

Since I chose the first destination on our vacation, the Dear chose the second. And so off to the big hole we went.

Now that the car was loaded up with XM and Tom Tom, the drive was excellent. It was such a beautiful drive. I have lived in Kansas or the Houston area most of my life. I now live in oil fields. I am not accustomed to mountains. I was in awe. And have a lot of pictures to prove it.



We stopped in Flagstaff for the night. At the scariest hotel I have ever stayed at. Which is saying a lot. This is the hotel where you can lay on the bed and see the can. The hotel where if you are over 5’ 10”, you cannot pee standing up or take a shower normally. I think the only reason I slept is that I was still ill. Thank goodness for bad guac! And the price? A mere $75.00 for the worst hotel room ever. The most we spent during our entire vacation was $95 for the first night in Vegas. Out of 7 nights in hotels, this one ranked #2 in cost. Grr.

The following morning, we woke and began our drive to the Grand Canyon. But then we got hungry and with the help of Tom Tom, headed to downtown Flagstaff for some grub. The downtown area is so neat! It has been renovated with a ton of restaurants, pubs and cool stores. We wandered that for an hour or two. Flagstaff is at a high elevation which creates a wonderfully cool environment. Besides having the scariest expensive hotel around, Flagstaff seemed to be a wonderful city that, should we be required to spend more time in desert climates, I wouldn’t mind living in.

I don’t know, however, if Flagstaff can properly be called desert. There are a million pine trees, reminding me of the East Texas piney woods around Nacogdoches. They have a ski season. And it wasn’t the same temperature as the surface of the sun. Not too desert-y, in my opinion.

Anyhoo, after wasting more time, we headed to the Grand Canyon. The portion of the Canyon that we hit was called Desert View.





And has been previously seen, we stopped at a weird little tourist spot on the way, Yabba Dabba Doo!



We stayed at the Canyon for a couple hours. There was a storm blowing in to the East. We watched that roll in.



And then….we kept going west. With one city in mind.

Fun Monday: What is Your Treat?

Fun Monday is in full swing and the wonderful Beckie at Give It a Try has requested that we discuss our favorite treat.

It may be strange, but I am not a chocolate fan. I like various candies but nothing stands out as my favorite.

The one thing that popped into my mind upon reading this week’s challenge was….sushi.



It is my treat. It is my comfort food. It is my celebratory meal. It has been named as my final meal should I commit a heinous act and find myself on Death Row.

Unfortunately, in the area I am in, there is no sushi. Wal-mart sells frozen california rolls, but they creeped me out!

While on our tour of the Western U.S. this past week, it is all I wanted (Well, once I decided eating was ok again). When I visited Vegas earlier this year with my sister, every meal, except breakfast, was sushi for 4 days. We gorged ourselves on sushi.

So how many times did I eat sushi while in Vegas this go round? Sadly, none. I ate McDonald’s and Panda Express every day though. And man, I want sushi so badly!!

When I go to Houston in a few weeks, I plan on spending much of my earnings on sushi.

Santa Fe, oh Santa Fe

Last Friday morning, we woke up. We knew we were on vacation. We knew this was coming. We had talked about it for months. I asked you guys about Europe as we truly planned to go there. But then time got the best of us and Europe was scrapped. And another plan was never placed on the table. We discussed. I checked out books. And researched online. And we talked some more. And again, time got the best of us. So Friday morning comes, we know we are obligated to leave town, because we are NOT spending our 10 day vacation in this place we barely call home. Because then it would be a 10 day cry festival. And no one wants that.

I cooked a lavish breakfast that morning, because the practical girl I am, we needed to empty out the fridge. And we dined and discussed. And probably watched a bit of the History channel. While I played online. And then I packed some stuff. And decided that I better come up with a plan. Because if one of us did not just lay out the plan for the next 24 hours, we would end up staying home another day. So I picked Santa Fe. It wasn’t too far, the next stop could be either North or West without too much difficulty and well, I have always wanted to see Santa Fe.

We left our place around 1 PM and then we leisurely went to Wal-Mart. Ya’ll we have lived in the South long enough to know you don’t embark on a long journey without at least looking around Wal-Mart to ensure that you have everything you need. And apparently we needed XM. I drove to the next town over while Dear looked over the directions and readied the installation of said XM. We then stopped there for a half hour or so and got that all hooked up.

We then drove to Roswell. And stopped at Wal-Mart. I was starting to wonder about this whole vacation thing. Is it just going to be a tour of the Wal-Marts within driving distance of our home? I already mentioned the Roswell fascination with aliens. The whole town is covered in the little green things. And freaking Wal-Mart has a whole souvenir section filled with ‘em.




And then we continued on our trip. XM rocks. After we were situated with XM, we did not stop again until Santa Fe.

I still don’t know if I had the worst lactose issue ever or if I had some guac gone bad, but I was in a bad way from Thursday night until at least the Grand Canyon. With the threat of turning back home, I did my best to hide my misery. At night, it got worse. By the time we hit Santa Fe Friday night, I was pretty miserable. The roads in Santa Fe suck. Suck big donkey … toes. If you have been to San Antonio….very similar. We call around and find a decent hotel price. At least better than the $160 Days Inn look-alike. And we head there. Or at least we think we do. I talked to the front desk three times trying to find our way there. And I end up in tears. I was in pain, lost and very pissy.

After driving around for an hour, we end up scrapping that hotel. And finding a no-tell motel for $30 cheaper, much closer to the downtown area. And they didn’t make me cry. I crawled into bed right away….not getting to experience the Santa Fe nightlife.

The next morning we wake up and head to the beautiful downtown Santa Fe area. The city is gorgeous! Very Austin-ish. Except brown. Most buildings are brown or terra cotta, or adobe, whatever. I swear it must be a city ordinance. Adobe everywhere.






The downtown area is full of cute little shops, art stores and restaurants. They also have a town center park area where a festival was going on. Lots and lots of cool over-priced knick knacks. We ate at a gorgeous restaurant. Unfortunately, I was still not feeling well so we did not truly “Do” Santa Fe. I love the feel of the town, the look. It is a gorgeous city that I would love to see more of.





I sure wish I had more to tell about Santa Fe, but we needed to get on the road so we could get further away from home. I had already been threatened with turning around if I didn’t feel better. So I needed to put some miles behind us so even if I didn’t feel better, it wouldn’t make sense to go home!





Damn guac gone bad.