So that brings us to ranking my experiences, sharing any regrets, and answering for the curious.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Hours of driving brings hours of changing landscape. Sure, the desert can last a long (LONG) time, but its transition to-and-from mountains or plains is wondrous. Instead meeting animals in cartoons or in captivity, I encountered them in real life. Sometimes they’re larger than expected, other times tinier–regardless, they’re real and regal. Being creative daily, making the decisions to plan an excursion near-daily, and living in a world made entirely of my design (except for things that weren’t)–these are the fondest and proudest aspects of the trip.

If you want tangible places and spaces, then take a gander at these pics and click to read the original post.

Visiting 22 (one not pictured) friends or relatives. What a treat to see so many people I love, meet their spouses/partners and children. Only regret: forgetting to take pics with most of them. (Plus encountering Atlanta folks when they were on the road–this happened twice for a total of six friends!)

The Crayola Experience in Pennsylvania. It had been far too long since I’d colored, and I suspect the same is true for you.

The art was sometimes confusing, always thought-provoking; sometimes whimsical, always interesting.

Coney Island has been on my NYC list for years but rain and repairs foiled visits repeatedly. Finally I made it! And it was worth the wait.

Big Bend National Park lured me for its remote location. It’s a perfect example of what I was able to do by taking this trip.

Photo courtesy of Flickr

Heading north from Atlanta took me through familiar territory: the Carolinas. When I crested the first hill in Virginia and saw a view like this, THAT’s when the trip felt like it really began.

Gettysburg National Military Park opened my eyes to the scope and logistics of war. I’ll never truly know, but now I know the vastness of what I don’t know.

Niagara Falls is talked about soooo much, how could it possibly live up to the hype? It exceeded it.

Haleakela National Park in Hawaii is above the clouds. That says it all.

Photo courtesy of Flickr

Beauty above ground is expected. Beauty underground is incredible. I’ve been to caverns before–all impressive, yet none compare to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico.

I really never expected to fall in love with Kansas. Ignorant me had no idea that it’s absolutely gorgeous!

Learning that Georgia O’Keeffe painted more than flowers was already a surprise. Discovering that she painted landscapes with the same softness that I experience by being among them, made me feel connected to her.

Roswell New Mexico works very hard not to take itself seriously. Banks, streetlights, and stores all carry the torch of alien sightings. The kitsch is out of this world.

I’ve had BBQ in Memphis, Mississippi, multiple places in Texas, North Carolina, and Georgia. Arthur Bryant’s in Kansas City wins. Heat. Sweet heat. Smoke. The meat doesn’t hide behind the sauce and the sauce is an experience all its own.

Though still not a huge fan of Andy Warhol‘s work, I became a fan of the man. He wasn’t limited to–or by–Studio 54. He went to church weekly and called his family every Sunday. After his parents passed, he spent holidays working at soup kitchens. And he had credit at restaurants around town, sending homeless people to eat on his tab.

Photo courtesy of Flickr

Really, ALL of Hawaii was a favorite, but snorkeling and seeing the color and life was amazing. I can’t wait to go again!

Any Regrets?

I don’t live my life that way. Sure, things could have been done differently–they could been done a million different ways. This trip was exactly what I made it. That’s all that matters. And I loved it…even the yucky parts.

• Did I find anywhere else I could live? No.
• Would I do it again? Absolutely!
• Will I do it again? I have no idea…

Do I Still Have the Travel Bug?

Without a doubt.

A wish list is already rich with places to re-visit and others to explore for the first time. And yes, they’re all in America. The rest of the world is undoubtedly magnificent–but as we’ve seen, so is the United States. With festivals and nature, culture and cultures, I’m content–actually, delighted–to discover “here” instead of “there.”

Was I Ever Scared?

Oh, the discussions we had before I left! My family wanted me to have a gun, a stun gun, a bodyguard… I promised up and down that I was trading Atlanta dangers for others, and was just as safe (or unsafe) on the road as I was at home. Thankfully a car accident (or five…whoopsie!) were the only incidents.

I did find myself scared a handful of times by circumstance, not by people:

• Driving in the winds of Kansas, Oklahoma, and Arizona. Yowza.
• Hiking on Haleakelah in Hawaii (see pic above). I felt like I was on the edge of the of the world…and not in a good way.
• Big Bend National Park is on the border of Texas and Mexico. Vendors, artisans, and serenaders illegally cross the river and seek income selling trinkets or a song. My first encounter scared me not because of imminent danger, but because of my imagination. All future hikes in the park were in the company of strangers I accosted at the trailhead.
• Once Fall fell, I was literally the ONLY person staying at one campground (I forget where). I informed my brother, who had me call him three times a day for the duration of that stay.

What Am I Looking Forward To at Home?

• Keeping kosher–for the sake of ease, while in the camper I abandoned kosher meat and separate dishes for milk and meat. Turns out that I miss keeping kosher; the discipline, the tradition; the honor it adds to routine.
• Having the option not to shop at WalMart. It’s ubiquitous and cheap. Fine qualities, but not fine quality.
• Not feeling compelled to shop at uber expensive Whole Foods simply because one appeared on my path–and it’s the antithesis of WalMart.
• Spending time with my friends and family. Facebook and phone calls are nothing compared to sitting across from someone.
• Knowing how to get from point A to point B without at GPS and not having to listen to its bossy voice.
• Recycling. A disappointing majority of campgrounds don’t recycle. I tried going to the municipality, but it was more hassle than it was worth. I apologized to the Earth every time I threw away something that could have been recycled.

Will I Keep Writing?

Some folks have graciously asked if I’ll keep writing–saying that they’ll miss this blog. I’m so flattered. Thank you for joining this journey and being a part of this blog. It means so much to me.

After my reentry to life with a house-not-on-wheels and actually talking to people *every day*, I’ll begin writing for another project. Stay tuned…I’ll be in touch to let you know all about it.

To say this was a trip of a lifetime is blatantly obvious. I simply woke up one morning in February 2012 and decided not to wait to retire to live this dream. Four months later I was on the road. I’m so thankful to have followed my gut and chased my goal. Prudence certainly said not to do it: quit your secure job? sell your house to afford this? Pffff! Adventure rebutted with, “if not now, when?” So I went…and discovered for myself America the funny, America the sage, Americana the Beautiful.

***

So…where are you going for your next trip?

If you’re not comfortable asking for help, don’t travel by yourself and certainly don’t travel in an RV. While technically I may have been solo on this adventure, I was far from alone. Assistance was abundant from strangers and family, friends and acquaintances, blog followers and mechanics.

Three Wise Men

It turns out you can love men whom you barely know. I have no idea how these particular men take their eggs, but I do know that they are kind, caring, and honorable. And I know that without them, my trip would have been exponentially more stressful.

1. The Tire Guy–Kieran at Gran Turismo in Chamblee wouldn’t hear of me having the tires rotated and balanced at some retail chain. Gasp! Only independent shops where the owners are mechanics–like him. So he asked me to be in touch at maintenance time and he would contact his tire distributor to find the equivalent of his shop–wherever I was. One such place told me that a tire pull should be covered under warranty and to go to the dealer. Ford was having none of it and confusing me, so I called Kieran. He in turn called the dealer, and suddenly the replacement tires were covered under warranty. I swooned.
2. The Transmission Guy–Scott at Mr. Transmission on Lawrenceville Highway in Decatur amped the transmission in preparation for towing the trailer over hill and over dale. I called him with questions at the beginning: can I use cruise control, how fast can I go, please explain shifting gears. Then the transmission pump valve broke, leaking fluid and making acceleration, well, impossible. He diagnosed from Atlanta while I was in New Mexico and he called to check in before I had the chance to report to him about what transpired at the dealer. I felt supported.
3. The Hitch Guy–Bob at Hitch House didn’t just install a hitch and brake; he taught me how to drive with a rig. We tested side mirrors; I called to find out if I could sleep in the rig while it’s hitched (sometimes you pull into a campground when passing through and don’t set up camp); can I drive in the rain; is this RV repairman legit or selling me a load of crap? I felt relief.

I can’t wait to see friends and family. And I’m just as tickled to give each of these men a huge hug!

People with a Sixth Sense

Folks who are former and/or current RVers are excellent contacts. I sent many frantic emails to my friend Seth, Mom’s friends Penny & Trez, and Dad’s friend-of-a-friend Alan. Beyond the obvious gift of their patience, what’s incredible is that even with my ridiculous descriptions, they understood.

• The water smells even worse that usual.
  • Are you at the beach? If so, then it’s ok. (I was at the beach)
• The “warning” light above the fridge is on but it won’t tell me what to be warned about.
  • Did you turn off the fridge and/or refill the propane tank? If so, mash every button related to both and the light will clear. (I had filled the propane tank)
• The light for the water heater is going dim. Does that mean the panel lightbulb is burning out or something’s going wrong with the heater?
  • It’s the panel. [We] leave the water heater on all the time. Ignore and continue life as normal.

This is talent, people. And there’s a possibility that I may now serve this role for cousins who leave on their year-long RV journey in a few weeks. Wowza.

Are You Dead?

The kindness of strangers is not mythical and it’s not just a bumper sticker.

• It was over 100 degrees and I hadn’t left my camper all day. An AC that sounds like a plane inside is surprisingly quiet outside. My campground neighbor was concerned, so sent her husband over to make sure I wasn’t dead. We were equally stunned to see each other at the door.
• This city girl gets excited about crops and flowers–and shockingly gets things wrong sometimes. You fine readers educate me–and each other.
• An inexperienced snorkeler, I was prone to hyperventilating as I acclimated to the mask. Poke my head up, swim to the nearest human, and ask if I can hold onto them while I catch my breath. They always said yes, and always waited patiently.

Facebook and My Father

• Jonathan and I haven’t seen each other since a post-high school encounter in the Blockbuster parking lot. But he lives in Mexico and advised on safety for visiting Big Bend National Park. Ardy is a cousin I recall meeting only once, but there must be other times–we’re of different generations and she lived in Hawaii for decades. So she helped me plan that month-long trip.
• Facebook has been a G-dsend. It keeps me in touch with friends, and is an awesome way to get opinions about destinations. Plus, when there’s confusion about technology or, well, it’s always technology, my friends from today and from 30 years ago generously share their knowledge.
• My Dad researched SUVs and RVs; I call to talk about the romance of mile-long trains and to ask why water towers are so tall; there are panicked moments when the black tank spilled (use kitty litter) and there’s been an accident of a different kind (the woman didn’t drive when the light turned green and seems to be faking an injury). Mom says that all of my calls to him have brought him on the trip in a way. It’s a romantic notion.

When we live in our bubble world of daily life, we may not realize how often we ask for help–because we already know who to go to. How lucky to have an innate support system. How wonderful to be able to take it for granted–just don’t take it for granted. And we likely don’t think of strangers as kind, because they’re just those idiots in traffic, and people who move slowly at the grocery store. But I’m willing to bet that they’re neighborly almost all the time.

Americana the Beautiful. Americana the Helpful.

****

Who was helpful to you today?

My sneezes are so profound that I make startled exclamations like “oh my!”

Over the course of this afternoon, my brain has grown larger than my head.

My nose feels runny, but is dry. I’m congested, yet blowing my nose does nothing except waste tissues.

My throat is parched from breathing through my mouth. And also because, well, it’s the middle of the desert.

I can’t keep my eyes open but also can’t fall asleep. Bugger.

I’ve been working on two posts: an ode to helpful people on this journey; and exploring Taos, including a Pueblo where American Indians have lived since 1000, seeing the landscape that inspired Georgia O’Keeffe, and meeting a man who has his own museum of gas station wonders. Since my aforementioned brain is busy exceeding the spatial limits of my skull, there’s no capacity to write either of these posts. Stay tuned…

In the meantime, I’ll be here, surrounded by disgusting confetti of used Kleenex.

P.S. Is it weird to fantasize about putting Chapstick on your nose? After all, it’s chapped, too….

Originally posted on January 4, 2012

Moose signs: many
Moose sightings: none

Rumor has it they’re out at dusk. When is that, exactly? My weather.com app doesn’t give that info.

Now these signs, they were a few miles apart. Makes me think perhaps there may not be moose for the next five miles….

***

Beloved readers: I’m being bold. Perhaps bolder, even than going on this trip. Do you know any eligible moose, er, Jewish men in their 40s? Preferably who live east of the Mississippi.

Like all canyons, a slot canyon is formed by water. The difference is how narrow a slot canyon is. It twists and turns and you have to do the same to fit through it. Shafts of light flirt through the top, and otherwise, you’re in shadows. Smack in the middle of nowhere in the desert of Navajao lands near Page, AZ, Antelope Canyon was formed and continues to evolve from flood waters borne from rain that pours miles away.

Waters swirl and sometimes make whirlpools. The flow is seen in both diagonal and horizontal lines on the petrified sandstone.

It’s an intimate space with soft sand underfoot. The shadows cast by one wall onto the other is stunning.

This was a special day. A jeep tour in the morning, led by a Navajo Indian, and a boat tour on Lake Powell in the afternoon. I feel lucky to have been to this divine place.

***

When have you opted not to take pictures because the moment was more important?

As my trip nears its end (I arrive on my parents’ doorstep in 19 days), my thoughts are turning reflective–even more so than usual.

What I’ve Learned about Americans

• Sizzler restaurants still exist.
• The vast majority of people are terrible drivers.
• The vast majority of people are helpful when given the opportunity–and many offer help unsolicited.
• Flags fly at half-mast with precision and respect that make my heart swell. Do they just know to do it? Is there a phone tree to all flag owners? Does being a flag owner inherently make you cognizant?
• Hobbies are diverse and fascinating. From birding to rock hunting, spinning yarn to knitting it. The stores that specialize in these interests are niche and in every region. If you make jewelry, there are bead stores with indigenous stones. A quilter, you can find fabrics representative of the location. A cook, buy cookbooks that are narrowly focused with recipes centered around one key ingredient.

What I’ve Learned about America

• The highway system is impressive in its existence. It needs some love, however, in its experience. Sometimes the roads are so bumpy that I needed two bras….
• There are purple mountains, and they do have majesty.
• More often than not, a river does run through it. Sometimes it’s just dry at that particular moment.
• Same neighborhood, different city. Every major city has a trendy area with expensive stationery stores. Every region has a town with artists and a great bakery and the best [insert regional food item] you’ll ever eat. This may sound jaded, and perhaps it is. If you’re a sometimes-traveler, these stores are a delight. If you’re a repeat offender, going to the same spot every summer, they’re a mainstay. Enjoy them, covet them, feed the economy through them.
• We have a gluttony of wide open spaces. Go find them, look at the sky, and twirl. You’ll feel better; in fact, you’ll feel good. And yes, even men should twirl.

Purple Mountains Majesty at Shenandoah National Park

What I’ve Learned about Myself

• I’m patient until I’m not.
• If I don’t have to master the skill, then just ask for help. It’s the end of the trip and I’m still a terrible backer-upper with the trailer. Instead of struggling through it myself, I now ask a man to do it for me.
• The picture is not the most important thing–the moment is. I can download pictures from Flickr–by photographers far better than I am. If time is limited because of a tour, or the photo is compromised by my limited skills, don’t waste time adjusting camera settings. Relax and enjoy. Imprint all of my senses and find pictures later to trigger memories.

• I don’t actually like hiking. I like the gear. I like the idea of it. But I don’t really like doing it. It’s hot. There’s an incline. I need more water than one person could possibly carry.  Sure, I’ve been on some beautiful hikes. But that’s not what I remember. I recall the place and awe…before the hike. The hike just makes me sweaty and hungry and dehydrated, and all of that makes me cranky.

• If I don’t understand, there’s no need for me to walk away confused and dissatisfied. Instead, could you say it again using different words? I’ve asked this of mechanics (could you translate that into girl?) and museum docents (please give a real life example to explain the science). This is MY experience, I want to get everything out of it that I can. If that means asking someone to change their approach to meet mine, so be it. I’d do it for them. 

Such handsome hiking gear

How Have I Changed Because of the Trip?

Other than no longer shying away from conflict (negotiations, refunds, warranty coverage), I don’t know…yet. I suppose I won’t know until “back” with friends and family, or in a work environment. At that time, we’ll see what I’ve really learned!

***

What have you learned over the past year?

Which is more beautiful? The Grand Canyon itself, or that people come from all over the world to see it? English spoken in accents from America, South Africa, Britain, Australia, and Ireland. Languages I could discern include Russian, Indian, Dutch, French, Italian, German, Chinese and Japanese.

How do you convey the genius? Of the men who were the first to raft the entire Colorado River in the 1860s–against the advice of the Indians, and the guides who navigate people safely on it today. Of the photographers and artists who strive to capture what moves them in this massive space. Of the geologists who study rocks nearly half as old as the Earth itself and understand complex concepts about the formation of this glorious freak of nature.

How do you explain to people–avid enough to have a camera tripod–that they want to get here BEFORE the actual sunset to watch the light shift, not at 7:12 when it goes bye bye?

Look at the shadows that the cliffs make on each other–lined up like dominoes.

Over half of the Grand Canyon is the National Park; the rest is Tribal Land. Visible from space, the Canyon is larger than the state of Delaware!

A Land Before Time

The Grand Canyon was formed from cycles of geological change: oceans that receded, leaving coastal jungles. Add in a continental shift, rinse, and repeat. The rocks at the canyon floor date to 1.8 billion years ago; the Earth is 4.6 billion years old.

But then something odd happens: the layers of rock aren’t sequential–millions of years are…just…missing. How’s THAT possible? Deposit and erosion. This is the theme at Grand Canyon–and I don’t entirely get it. I wish I could call 1-800-GEOLOGIST for some help, but I’ll do my best.

Huh…there’s an edge! Never thought about that (even though I’m standing on one, she says sheepishly)

Think about the Colorado River and and all the silt it brings as it’s comin’ down the mountain. That builds up a layer. Once the water recedes, the rock layer may stay, or erosion may strip away the buildup, leaving no evidence of what was there. In comes a new cycle of water, and with it, new deposits. Now we have a missing layer of rock. A real life example: think of clean sheets in the linen closet. Green on the bottom, beige above the green. You take the beige down to put on a bed–erosion. You just did wash and add yellow on top of the green, where the beige just was–deposit over a missing layer.

How do they know the layer is missing? Fossils. Think of a layered cake. You know that the bottom layer always has chocolate chips and they’re always one million years old. The middle layer always has Reese’s Pieces and they’re two million years old. The third layer always has dinosaur gummies and they’re three million years old. So if you leave the cake on the counter to cool, come back and only find layers with chocolate chips and dinosaur gummies, you know something happened to make the middle layer disappear. Now you just have the small task of figuring out what…

It’s not just pretty, it’s geologically amazing that it stayed tidy to become pretty.

In addition to the erosion and deposits, the earth was simultaneously pushing the layers up. Besides the gaping hole, what makes the Grand Canyon so spectacular, is that during the upward movement, everything stayed neatly stacked. This is not true throughout the region. Other places also experienced this ebb, flow, and upward force, but they crumbled and aren’t nearly as stunning.

A River Runs Through It

I was more than a little obsessed with spotting the Colorado River. Perhaps because it’s the forbidden fruit.

1. You have to make reservations years in advance to go whitewater rafting on it–how could I do that when I didn’t know what I was doing week to week?
2. There’s NO WAY I’m riding a mule into the canyon, no matter how gorgeous it is.
   • I’ve ridden a camel and all pack animals like to hover close to the ledge. Crazy fools. The website even said so. Unh Uh. Not happening.
   • I’ve been horseback riding and it was not a wind-in-my-hair, freeing experience. I did not know it was possible for knees to hurt with so much excruciating pain. It’s from sitting in a very special way that makes me wonder why women fought to abolish riding side-saddle.

So I gazed at the river through my camera lens. It’s an interesting river, the Colorado. It goes deep, not wide. The canyon width has not changed from the river at all. It does run a mile deep, though–and is still cutting its way deeper. Some of the more, um, rigorous rapids are a mile long themselves. That’s significant. That’s a lot of holding on and praying and being flooded with water. And a lot of fun, I have no doubt!

While the river is “only” the seventh largest in the U.S., its power comes from a steep grade: it drops eight feet per mile. The Mississippi may be larger, but she lumbers only three feet per hour (the pace of a person walking). Learn about the Mighty Miss and my ride on a riverboat. Indeed!

The Power of Place

National Parks are different even from going to a quiet beach or on a nearby mountain hike. Maybe it’s because you know the space is designated, or maybe it’s the pure reality that they designated it becuase it’s special. I’m proud (and braggadocios) to say that I’ve been to 27 of the 59 National Parks. All are incredible; a very few are sacred. They have a different feeling when you pass the entranced sign. There’s something magical that Disney wishes for. There’s something more alive than the energy of the animals you’ll encounter.  There’s something calming and connecting. Grand Canyon National Park is one of these transcendent places.

***

Have you been to the Grand Canyon? What’s one of your favorite experiences there?

***

Is this the Tackiest Place on Earth?

Original post February 24, 2012

Since I haven’t been to every single place on Earth I can’t attest as to whether South of the Border  in South Carolina is in fact the tackiest place, but it certainly would make a Top Ten list.

Oasis or Quagmire of Kitsch?
They call themselves a “highway oasis.” Well, it is, something.

In fact it’s a collection of shops full of kitchsy crap like fake poo, oversized pencils, tshirts with ridiculous sayings, shotglasses with every conceivable animal adornment, and anything else you can think of. It’s the kind of stuff that’s usually not Made in America and surely must make those factory workers wonder what is wrong with Americans for wanting all this crap.

Click here to see the slideshow.

BTW – these are the only pics on this post that I took. See the Disclaimer below for more details.

Step Away from the Snarkiness
All that sarcasm aside, South of the Border is WONDERFUL! I called high school friend Regina the. very. second. I. arrived. Why? Because the absurd oversized fiberglass animal “statues” were a delight! And the neon, oh the neon.

Click here to see the slideshow.

Are we there Yet?
There’s no missing South of the Border. Billboards line the roads for miles – like hundreds of miles. They’re funny, goofy, even dorky. Bless their hearts.

Click here to see the slideshow.

Even Tacky is Rooted in History
This, um, destination, started as a beer store south of the North Carolina border, which was home to dry counties (dry means alcohol-free; by law). And once the romping began, things exponentiated into this “wonderland.”

Disclaimer
Only a fraction of these photos are mine. Driving solo, I couldn’t take pics of the billboards. And once there I truly had too much fun playing to take the time to photograph. Plus, it was too hot and there were too many people. So thank you Flickr and your contributors for capturing memories for me and for sharing the experiences with you fine readers.

While sand is everywhere in the desert, dunes are not–they need both a strong wind and something to slow down the wind. In Death Valley, as the sand erodes down one mountain, it’s blocked by another. The sands do shift with windstorms, but the dunes are trapped in place.

An Obsession with Sea Level

This a National Park with a lot of stats to notch its belt:

• largest park in the lower 48
• driest park in the U.S. (sometimes as little as 1.5 inches of rain per year, others none)
• Second lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, and lowest in North America
• Hottest park in the country. On July 10, 1913 it was 134 degrees. De-lightful. That’s the highest temp ever recored in North America. Average summer temp: a mild 120. I was there mid-April and it was a balmy 98.

How does this relate to sea level? Because everywhere you go they tell you where you are in context of the ocean. Sometimes level, sometimes thousands of feet above, sometimes only five feet below, and so on. It tickled me. So many extremes in one park–the heights change the temperature, too, of course–there can be at least a 20 degree difference from the peaks to the valleys.

And this focus on sea level made me wonder–is the sea actually level? Is that a constant measurement around the Earth? Answer: It is not. They should say “Pacific Sea Level” or “Atlantic Sea Level” because faults shift, levels are different near the equator and poles, and currents, weather, and such have daily impact. They can fluctuate 300 feet from point to point. Thank you, dear Interweb, for the education.

A Very Colorful Park

If you wore camouflage in this park, you’d have to add in turquoise and 1980′s peach. Basic browns just won’t do. Click the pic to advance the slideshow.

This area is called Artist’s Palette. Aptly named. Click the pic to advance the slideshow.

Very, Very High

Mountains, valleys, and a view of the salt flats–we’ll learn more about them in a minute. Honor that the mountains are rising AND the valley is sinking. Right now just admire their beauty. Click the pic to advance the slideshow.

Very, Very Low

While the highest point in the park, Dante’s Peak, is 5000 feet, the lowest point is 282 feet below sea level. At the Badwater Basin it collects just what its name implies–the mucky water that runs off the mountains, collecting salt and minerals as it goes. With no outlet to the sea, it stagnates in 9,000 square miles of drainage–larger than New Hampshire.

Here’s the pretty salt designs some are fortunate to see–I was not so lucky.

Photo courtesy of Flickr

The water evaporates and leaves a crusty, crystalized oddly beautiful snowflake of foulness. You have to be willing to find the beauty. Click the pick to advance the slideshow.

The land tilts like a see-saw here, fault lines are unstable. The basin drops faster than it fills: earthquakes keep lowering the ground level.

A Happy Accident

I wasn’t originally planning to come to Death Valley. Another barren space? I’ll pass. But the parks I really wanted to visit are still getting snow storms and that’s not gonna happen–tire chains are required. So I changed my plans and am so thankful that I did. The contradictions, the colors, the vast spaces, the trapped elements. It was fascinating and a place where I can see how someone could be inspired to a life a science.

***

What inspired you onto the path of your work or hobby?

***

DragonCon: Oh, the Humanity!

Original post September 3, 2011

The DragonCon parade was more than a girl could hope for!

Elementary school friend Naomi and I went early for the “mustering,” where the folks in the parade gather by theme (Star Wars, Super Hero, etc.). It was a fantastic behind-the-scenes peek: the juxtaposition of half-costumed people drinking Gatorade, hearing stories of how the costumes were made and their authentic materials, getting as close to the Wicked Witch of the West as I ever care to.

Naomi was my guide during the parade, introducing me to worlds of sci-fi, fantasy, and super powers. Silly me, I thought they were all the same. Not so.

This was absolutely the best parade I’ve ever seen–and it was right here in hometown Atlanta Georgia! There were moments of acrobatics and combat fighting; wizards galore; and more people pointed a fake a gun at me than I could have hoped for.

A zombie growled at me and I blew in kiss in return–I’m not sure of the etiquette, was that the right thing to do?

Click here to see the slideshow.

***

What’s the best parade you’ve seen?