I wonder this postcard’s story? Because let’s be serious, there’s got to be one.

Hmm, things to ponder . . .

Anyway, for the first time in years I will be in town to attend Halloween parties. In case my introverted side wins out, I’ve also purchased my weight in chocolate. Granted, we rarely get more than a handful of trick-or-treaters, but this girl is nothing if not prepared.

Needless to say, leftover Halloween candy should get me through ‘til Christmas.

You—any freakishly good plans?

Whatever they may be, I hope your days are frightfully fun, but not the least bit scary. I hope you stay warm and safe. And I hope you find a sweet start to a brand new month . . .

Happy Halloween + Happy November, to you!


Off the dessert highways

And now for the highlights of traveling some 20 hours by car, from Boise, Idaho to Las Vegas, Nevada . . .


In betwixt lies a whole lot of pavement and tail lights and ooh, power lines. There’s fast food, many a snack, and questionable restrooms (at one point I just had to hand sanitize a seat and say a prayer).

If you’re prone to hitting the open road, you know there’s usually something unexpected, as well. For us, it was one seriously wide load. Now, I’m sure you’re thinking, “We’ve all seen an oversized load.” I thought the same thing—until we were driving down the highway with a police car heading straight for us. He motioned us to the side of the road (as if we could go anywhere else). We figured we were pulling over for a nuclear waste carrier to pass. Nope. Two police cars later, a car pulls up alongside our car, and the policeman leans out the window, “Sir, if you could pull further off to the side . . . then just wait for it . . .

Other than that, Vegas was Vegas (i.e. lovely lights, spectacular resorts, and food served with a side of bosoms). I saw what’s new in the world of solar, perused the sites, even won a whopping $65 on the slots.

I’ve also seen my fill of men traipsing around in Speedos.

To recover, I turned right around and headed to my aunt’s in Oregon, where the sky was not to be outdone . . .


We went for walks; we watched deer roam (and prayed they’d make it safely across the highway). We ate and chatted and lounged about in the hot tub. And we laughed.

By the way, if anyone asks if it’s possible to die from laughter, the answer is yes. We came dangerously close to getting it done.

All in all, I’d say that’s a jackpot all its own.

And I quote

In other words


So to all of you who hate autumn, because it means winter cannot be far behind–just, you know, laugh it out.


Oh, the adventure

{Let’s go on a road trip print from Wild Travels}

Perhaps I need to purchase this print, to remind me road trips are super-duper fun.

Because I’ll tell you now, I’m  not feeling it.

Next week I’ll be hitting the open road with my dad and two fellows who work for him. Our destination: Vegas. That’s ten hours, at the very least. Ten hours of blank, flat land, mile after endless mile.

The thought is enough to make a grown girl cry.

That being said, I have a ton of things to accomplish this weekend; and next week may very well be a whirlwind.

So this wish will have to get you through the weekend, straight on through the week, and through another weekend. But I’ll tell you now, there are bound to be stories upon my return.

With that, I wish you a road paved with adventure . . . good food and even better conversation . . . laughter and hope for a brighter future . . .

Happy, to you!


The race

RunThe last wave–the wee runners, and their encouragers

It was a weekend of family to-dos. One of which included a fun run: one mile up historic Harrison Boulevard by waves of elementary school children, the occasional parent or pet thrown in for moral support.

We planted our feet in a grassy spot, mid-way, on what we soon found to be the boys’ side; then we waited for familiar faces. Until that time, I stood content to cheer on any fellow who ran before me:

The fellow pushing his friend . . .

The fellow without legs . . .

The fellow who obviously had runners as parents . . .

The fellow who most certainly did not . . .

All sorts and varieties ran, walked, rolled, or limped past. They were strong and brave and handsome, every last one of them.

For our part, we clapped and cheered and carried on. Well done, men! Good job! Look—you can see the finish line!

It may have been the smallest trace of a smile, it may have been a second wind (even if he yelled, “There are a thousand miles to go!” as he ran past), but that odd group of strangers, cheering on the sidelines, managed to make a difference.

Sure, an attitude sneaked in every now and again, but for the most part, they seemed grateful for a little push to carry on. One small fellow even ran a bit closer, looked me in the eye, and said, “Thank you,” as he jogged past.

And then my heart melted.

See? A little encouragement goes a long way. Something to keep in mind as we continue the race we call our own . . .