Las Vegas, Revisited (Sort Of).

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that I might come back to the Las Vegas portion of my last trip, due to the fact that the post was going to take a little more time than I had then.  Soooo....as promised.  However, be forewarned, it's less of a travel post and more of a "looking inward" post.  (I have to be in the mood to write posts like this, which is why they don't happen that often, which is probably fortunate.)

Fun Fact Number One: I may not always quite look it, but at heart, I'm nothing but a simple country girl whose idea of heaven on earth is a little house off in a field somewhere, full of babies and friends and laughter, fresh homemade bread cooling on the counter and cookies in the cookie jar, a big garden with all kinds of things growing in it, and plenty of books and songs and good conversation.  Really, anything outside of that world brings some measure, no matter how small, of discomfort.  Oh, I know what a person might see when they look at me, the fearlessly independent, high-powered career woman slash world traveler slash straight-A engineering student who has no problem swaggering straight into a man's world and taking no prisoners.  Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy the life I have, and I am extremely grateful for the opportunities that have come my way.  But the truth remains, no matter how well I hide it.

Fun Fact Number Two: If there is one driving force that supersedes nearly all else in my life, it is a burning desire to come through, for my family, my friends, my little people, my bosses, my professors and coworkers, those who know me well, those who know me not so well, and most importantly, for my God - to find whatever it is that is needed from me, to deliver, and, if at all humanly possible, to never disappoint.

Normally, when you mix all of that jumble together, it works out pretty well in terms of a very happy, fulfilling life.  Every once in awhile, though, the results get...interesting.

Take, for instance, flying out to Las Vegas to attend a business convention with my boss and a colleague.  Understand that this is a new job, in a new industry, one with a whole lot at stake in every transaction, fraught with opportunities to fall flat on one's face at any given moment, full of the most arrogant power players I've ever had the good (or mis-, depending on how you look at it) fortune to observe, and one that I know next to nothing about.  Imagine a deep sense of gratitude towards a boss for a certain willingness to risk investing in an inexperienced, unknown novice-girl and a powerful desire to prove worthy of that faith, and combine that with a fierce determination to go toe-to-toe with all of that cockiness and to succeed.  Now, mix the wide-open-space-loving country girl I told you about with hordes of pleasure-seekers, noise, and chaos and add that need to get it right - to dress appropriately, to look and speak the part without doing anything too embarrassing - in short, to conduct myself as a credit to my traveling companions, and you'll start to get an idea of the pretty intense pressure that I was beginning to labor under by the time that plane landed.

Let's just say that by days' end, I felt less a human being and more like a very prickly little caterpillar who wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hard, tight little ball and disappear for a very long time.

But then, in the nick of time, I remembered a few things.  I remembered that I was blessed beyond measure, not only to have an opportunity to see and experience so many incredibly amazing things, far above and beyond my wildest dreams, but to have that Friend who sticks closer than a brother, standing right beside me every step of the way.  I remembered that I have value, that I am loved and worthwhile, just as I am.  And I remembered that all of those awfully arrogant jerks that I saw everywhere were nothing more than people, just like me, who came into the world the same way I did, who have hopes and dreams and disappointments and insecurities, just like me, and who will stand before that great Creator one day, just like me.  The whole thing lost a lot of its loathsomeness, right then.  And, just like that, I was ready to get on board for the ride.

You know, perspective is a powerful thing.  It can mean all the difference between being a miserable, cranky, uptight (and consequently rather unpleasant) person and being the sort of person who gets joy from life no matter how it presents itself and, as a result, actually has something to offer this broken world.  I needed a nice, solid kick in the pants.  I thank the Lord for sending it my way, right on time, the way He always does, and I don't want to forget the lessons I learned.  I think they come in handy, every day of our lives.

Oh, and once I got that all straight, enjoy the ride is exactly what I did!  In between taxis, meetings, homework, and working the convention floor, I was able to indulge in my lavish corner suite on the 28th floor of the Trump International Hotel, complete with nearly 360-degree views of the city (my employer is a peach, straight up), catch the Jabbawockeez show at the Luxor (shows in Vegas are kind of like the Eiffel Tower, I think - one of those things you have to do once), walk (make that jog) The Strip and see the sights, and relish a powerfully good steak at Delmonico Steakhouse in the Venetian.  I met some really great people, gained a lot of valuable industry insight, and came away with a deeper appreciation for what I get to do and who I get to do it with.

I know, who cares about a hotel room.  But it was SO GORGEOUS.  It glowed!

And at the end of all of that, after two well-spent days, I got in a car and drove, and after ten long hours, there was my family.

And the rest is history.

Summertime and the Eating is Good

I don't know, something happens when summer hits.  It's like all of whatever chemical it is that motivates a person to go do stuff, it wakes up, after a long winter of hibernation.  (Embarrassing but true...)  Suddenly, I want to build a new house, clean up my yard, plant a garden, do some canning and pickling, learn the guitar, read at least one life-enriching book a week, throw sleepovers for my babies, travel to at least 25 cool destinations, have friends over for huge dinners, subscribe to a magazine full of good writing, learn to make real, hearth-baked artisanal bread.... And so on.  (Needless to say, this phase doesn't last terribly long, which is good; one would probably utterly flame out if one acted on all of that...)

Which, on a side note, one of my friends mentioned one of her summer plans - she's thinking about unplugging.  No more trolling Facebook and Instagram and Pinterest and YouTube.  Instead, outings and projects and quality time.  In my current mood, I adore the idea.  Scary but positively liberating...

Anyway, one of my symptoms is the seasonal onset of my craving for the quintessential foods of summer.  If I were to list the perfect dinner right now, it would look like this:

Grilled burgers - no foofoo fancy-pants versions please, just good old ground chuck, jazzed up with a little salt and pepper, cooked to a juicy pink and served on a toasted bun with ketchup, mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato, pickles and a thick slice of raw, white onion.  And maybe, if a person is feeling daring, a slice of sharp Cheddar cheese.  That's it.



Corn on the cob, ideally straight out of the garden, boiled just enough to take the edge off, maybe three minutes max.

Watermelon, rind attached, eaten so the juice runs down the chin.  (There is a time and place for watermelon, feta and mint salad, but not now, not in this post.)

Potato salad, my mom's recipe.  It's plain and simple, it doesn't even call for celery (I'll add it if I'm feeling slightly heretical) but it's deeply soul-satisfying.

Maybe, if I'm fortunate, some homemade pickles, preferably the refrigerator kind that stay crisp and tart and a little sweet.

And last, but not least, the only dessert that truly defines summer with it's creamy, ice-cold sweetness:

Homemade Ice Cream - maybe chocolate or peach or strawberry, or if I could ever find that Holy Grail of ice cream flavors, pure and perfect vanilla.

It's that time of year where I tend to be a bit of a bother when friends and family include me in their gatherings - I often have this epiphany... "Need me to bring anything?  HEY!  I could bring HOMEMADE ICE CREAM!"  The inviter generally succumbs to the sound of hope and expectancy in my voice, and graciously submits to a dessert line-up that now has to include bowls and spoons and freezer space and a bit of a mad rush to get it before it melts...  But I keep practicing, and one day, the ice cream that comes from my machine will be well worth lining up for...  

In the meantime, to celebrate summer, here are two recipes, one for my mama's potato salad (I don't care if you don't like it; it's what I love more than any other) and one for my family's chocolate ice cream, which is the closest I have found thus far to summertime heaven in a bowl.  (And yes, if we happen to get together this summer, I would be more than happy to make it for you.)

Mom's Potato Salad
(Makes one huge bowl)
12 eggs
12 medium potatoes (DON'T use Russets - plain whites, Yukon Golds, or even reds work better)
1 medium onion
Okay fine, you can add some celery if you want
3/4 of a 30 ounce jar of mayo (my one change - Mom uses Miracle Whip; I don't believe in Miracle Whip.)
1 1/2 Tablespoons - mustard
1 1/2 teaspoons - salt
1/4-1/2 teaspoon - pepper
1 Tablespoon vinegar (I like white or cider for this)
2-3 Tablespoons - sugar

Hard boil the eggs - I've found the best method is to cover your eggs with cold water, partially cover and bring to a boil.  As soon as the water boils, fully cover the pot, reduce heat and cook for one minute.  Remove from heat, and let sit, covered for 20 minutes.  If you immediately plunge them into ice water after this, they'll rarely have that nasty green ring hard-boiled eggs often get.  Anyway, while eggs are cooking, boil potatoes, skins on, until just barely tender - you don't want them falling apart.  Cool until they're somewhat easy to handle and remove skins with your fingers.  Coarsely chop potatoes, eggs, onion and celery and place in a large bowl.  In a separate bowl, combine mayo, mustard, salt, pepper, vinegar and sugar.  Toss with potato mixture.  Refrigerate overnight if at all possible.  (Seriously, this makes a HUGE difference.  Trust me.)

Chocolate Ice Cream
(Makes about six quarts - enough to feed one medium-sized hungry family, I suppose)
6 - eggs
3 cups - sugar
5 cups - whipping cream 
2 Tablespoons - vanilla (please, do yourself a favor and use the real stuff)
a hearty dash of salt
3 Tablespoons - cocoa
1 - 5.9oz box - instant chocolate pudding
about 2 cups - milk

I know.  With that list of ingredients, are we surprised that it's good?

Anyway, combine 1 cup of water, 1 cup of sugar, and cocoa in a small saucepan.  Bring to a boil and boil for one minute.  Set aside.  Meanwhile, beat eggs with a wire whisk until foamy.  Add remaining 2 cups of sugar and beat well.  Add whipping cream, vanilla and salt and mix.  Stir in hot cocoa mixture, combine, and then beat in pudding.  Pour into ice cream maker and add enough milk to reach the fill line.  (That 2 cups of milk is a good guideline - some ice cream makers are smaller; you might want to keep back some of your chocolate mixture so you can add some milk.  If your ice cream maker doesn't have a fill line, 2/3-3/4 full is a good guideline.)  Get all set up with ice and salt, and get cranking.


Note on ice cream makers, as I say, I totally dig homemade ice cream, so I splurged on a White Mountain ice cream maker, which is pretty awesome, aside from the fact that it rusts.  A lot.  But the motor is pretty impossible to wear out.  However, I've found that those cheaper versions they sell at Wal-Mart work almost as well.  I will say that I'm a big fan of the old-school, ice-and-rock-salt machines.  I just don't trust those newfangled, fancy-schmancy gizmos that you stick in your freezer, pour in your custard, and 20 minutes later, SHAZAM, out comes ice cream, labor free.  I don't know.  I feel like you need to WORK a little for the ice cream to come out right.  But that's just me...

Another note, I used to be all into bringing my whole ice cream maker set-up to gatherings, thinking it was such great fun to go through the whole process with friends hanging around.  Not so anymore.  Not only is it a big bother (way too much stuff to haul, including dripping bags of ice), it's obnoxiously loud, and, most importantly, the ice cream greatly benefits from several hours in the freezer to harden, preferably a whole day or overnight.

Westward Bound: The Last Few Days

Where were we?  Oh yes, Friday!  According to plan, Friday was the day we transitioned from Telluride to Moab, Utah.  Now, I was really curious.  I had been in Moab before, several years ago, and when I was there, I absolutely fell in love with Arches National Park.  Granted, it was one of the first stops on my first trip Out West (capital letters intentional), and having devoured nearly every Zane Grey and Louis L'Amour novel available at my local public library, it was practically a pilgrimage - a time of deep emotion, to say the least.  So I wondered if, upon second sight, the place would retain its splendor, or if my slightly more experienced present self would be less impressed.

I need not have worried...

Arches is a lot of fun, especially for families with little people, because many of the really spectacular formations are very easily accessible - a matter of parking your vehicle in one of the [sometimes congested] parking lots and then engaging in a quick, maybe quarter to half-mile walk up to the point of interest.  In addition to that, this park offers the added benefit of being an unbelievable natural jungle gym, as, in many cases, the trails lead right up and onto the rocks, providing ample opportunities for the adventurous to clamber around.

Now, here's where I start a bit of a play-by-play, just so I have an excuse to post more pictures...

Our first stop was Balancing Rock, pictured above.  (I'll let you guess which formation that moniker refers to...)

We then proceeded to Double Arch.

Double Arch is in the middle.

 

I know this picture isn't particularly pretty, but I include it to try and give some sense of scale.  You can see Isaiah and kids there on the bottom right.  I have never experienced anything like the sensation of standing at the foot of one of these gargantuan structures and looking up.  You literally have no point of reference; you feel swallowed up.  I almost felt a little vertiginous at times.

This picture was taken [very gingerly] from the window of Double Arch, looking back over the road and across the plateau.  Again, it is nearly impossible to grasp the scale, but the little dots in the lower left of center are people, just to give you an idea.  (For the record, I was extremely proud of myself for climbing up here.  I'm not afraid of heights per se, but I do develop an extreme...slowness of movement.)

From here, it was on to the Windows (North Window and South Window), as well as Turret Arch.

 That young man on the right was in hog heaven, scrambling all over those rocks.  Nothing was too high or too precarious, to his way of thinking, and wherever he goes, his sister must follow.  Meanwhile, their aunt sweats bullets and sprouts extra gray hairs...

Climbing Buddies...

 (Let me go on the record as saying that boy's Grandpa was WAY TOO SUPPORTIVE of his rock-climbing escapades.  Sincerely, Gray-Haired Aunt)

We grabbed a quick picnic lunch, and then it was off to see Delicate Arch.  This is the iconic one - the one you've seen if you've ever seen a Utah license plate.  (The great disappointment of this trip is that I did not get a Utah plate for the front of my car...)

This is the view from the lookout point that the trail we took leads up to.  Notice the ravine between where I stand and the arch.

Now, see how much closer it is?  We weren't able to cross the ravine for obvious reasons (see next picture; approximate depth: a mile), but we did hop over the "Trail Ends Here" sign and continue on, hiking over the cliffs.  The view was utterly spectacular.  At the end, we were perched on a promontory overlooking afore-mentioned ravine, across which was Delicate Arch, surrounded by mile upon mile of red and green mountains, and overshadowed by black, threatening storm clouds.  Our shouts seemed to echo for miles and miles.  We did hurry back down, due to those storm clouds, but being up there, seeing and hearing and feeling that incredible landscape was one of those moments that burns itself in your memory.

These pictures are not great, my camera kept washing everything out really bad, but I am so desperate to try and capture a little bit of what it was like up there... This is looking down into the canyon.

Here, I am standing on the point, looking back and down at Dad; you can see Isaiah and Annistyn way off in the distance and the valley spread out below.

If this was in better color, it would be a good shot.  Parking lot lower left;storm clouds in the distance.

We made it to the car in the nick of time; just after we got on the road, the heavens opened and the deluge began.  Rain in the desert is a many-splendored thing.  I'm telling you, seeing those monstrous rocks standing there, water and wind beating against them, their red rock turned white with the water pouring off of them, surrounded by torrential rapids cutting ravines in the soil around them was awe-inspiring, to put it mildly.  There are times when the power of Almighty God and his spectacular creation comes before one's face and one is struck silent.

This was taken from the window of a moving car.  Not so impressive until you understand their sheer size...

Annnndddd..... just like that, the rain was over!

We were pretty wiped out from our day of driving and hiking, so we were all up for some good, solid Mexican food.  (Word to the wise, for as much as Telluride is a super-hip, crunchy cool-kid town, Moab reeks of tourism.  Lots of "Helicopter Rides! One Hour Boat Rides! (um, yay?) Bungee Jumping! Ziplining! (I could not get any takers on this) T-Shirts! Pottery!  RV Hook-Ups!  You get the drift...  For as great as Arches is, when it comes to the town itself, I vastly prefer Telluride.)

Check out the rad decor... And the cute (sleepy) girl.

I do not do selfies.  Except for when I have one of my favorite seven-year-olds in the whole world to take one with.

Next morning, we were up early, for a last couple of hours in Arches, before it was back on the road; this time, home-ward bound.  We used our time in the park to hike out to Landscape Arch, Pine Tree Arch and Tunnel Arch.  The sun was out; the pictures responded accordingly...

Tunnel Arch...

The view through Pine Tree Arch

Landscape Arch in the background, cute kids in the foreground...

And a last few shots for the road.

And on that note, we aimed our compasses south and east and started the long, long drive back home.  Friday, we drove through the Rockies, passing through Glenwood Canyon (very beautiful) and the outskirts of Denver, before finally coming to rest in Limon, Colorado.  This was an absolute blast.  We stopped at maybe 7 PM in a little one-exit ranch town, dropped our bags at the Holiday Inn Express, trooped across the road for dinner at Denny's, chased by orange dream shakes and turnovers at Arby's, McCafe Frappes at McDonalds, and early bedtime.  Pure, junk-food, small-town America heaven.  I had so much fun, I bought a coffee mug to commemorate the occasion.  

Yep.

After that, the fun and games were pretty much over.  We spent the next two days covering thousands of miles, passing through Colorado, Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and then, finally Florida.  Along the way, we saw empty ranchland, one lonely antelope, miles of railroad tracks, farms, small towns and big cities, storms and sunshine, swamps and rivers and bays.  And then, at long last, we were home.

Good going out, and good coming in.  All good.

Westward Bound: The Next Few Days

I write, seated on the floor of a Holiday Inn Express in Limon, Colorado, McCafe Frappe by my side, having just chowed down on a plate full of cinnamon-roll pancakes at Denny's... But more on that later.

First, we'll dial back to Wednesday.  After grabbing breakfast at Baked in Telluride again (two comments: First, it is tremendously great fun to be a "regular".  Even if it only means two days in a row.  Second, Telluride is a really, really small town.  Not only are restaurant options reasonably limited, making the whole "regular" thing not only possible but downright probable, you're highly likely to run into the same people over and over, all throughout your stay.  All of this in the best possible way, of course), we spent the day touring.  In a nutshell, we circled around, past Ralph Lauren's ranch, over to Ouray and back.  Let's just call the next few pictures a monument to my frustration at my camera's inability to capture the incredible beauty of what I saw.

 This is Ralph Lauren's ranch.  Upon viewing it, I decided that making lots of money was maybe a really good idea, as it would allow a person to buy a ranch like this one...

This is a bird's-eye view of the town of Ouray (pronounced You-Ray), captured from the lookout known as "Switzerland of America".  My paternal relative, who has been to the real Switzerland, informed me (rather tongue-in-cheek) that this was a bit of a stretch.  It was still pretty picturesque.

I could not get tired of the fresh green of the aspen trees.  I wanted to capture the mountain behind them...

We happened upon this old, abandoned mine.  Utterly fascinating to walk around the ruins and peer into the gated, locked mine entrance and imagine when this little ghost town was humming with activity.

Straight up, this picture does not even come close to capturing the beauty of this scene.  We went out on a hike across the snow, looking for an abandoned ruby mine said to be located here.  We didn't find the mine, but by golly, was it beautiful, out there on the snow.  

This is Ouray's main drag.  I've decided that it makes the most sense to build my fantasy vacation home here instead of in Telluride.  Property is cheaper, the town is still pretty adorable (as demonstrated here), the surrounding scenery is spectacular, and it's centrally located between Telluride and Durango.  Win!

Sigh.

Pretty spectacular, no?  We rounded out the day with another drive into the hills surrounding Telluride in search of elk.  Found another 150 or so (this after spotting 300 last night).  

Thursday was a chill day.  We grabbed breakfast at Maggie's.  (We gave up our "regular" status at Baked in Telluride.)  Fun place - we gathered on a couple of sofas perched underneath a sunshiny window to eat our eggs, toast, oatmeal and the like.

Oh, and milk bottles.

We spent the day in town... some of us explored the Telluride Historical Museum (a small affair, which meant we were able to chat up the guy who designed and built the exhibits, and which meant Dad was able to actually handle a 30-caliber M-1 rifle, circa WWII.  For those who are unfamiliar with WWII history, this is a Very. Big. Deal.)  We grabbed lunch at the Butcher and the Baker, and then spent the afternoon following our own individual pursuits - Zay took the kids on a hike, my folks headed back to the lodge for an afternoon of catching up, and I browsed the shops.  We rode the gondola down for dinner at the Sheridan Hotel (for the record, elk short loin is very tasty), and then called it a night.

I LOVED the vibe at the Butcher and the Baker.  Here, my lunch plate: curried cauliflower, udon noodles and watermelon, mint and feta salad.  All local and sustainably sourced, eaten at tables equipped with random silverware and bright cloth napkins, under original art, in a bustling, wonderfully chaotic atmosphere.  Long story short, Carrie was very, very happy.

Not a great shot, as it was taken through the window of the gondola, but this gives a person a bit of an idea as to how Telluride "works".  In essence, it's a little town situated in a box canyon, surrounded by mountains.

My dinner buddy.  She ate her macaroni and cheese, so she got M&M's.  

I'm running out of time, it's late and I have to get up at the unholy hour of 5:00 AM tomorrow morning (we have a LOT of ground to cover if we're going to make it to Vicksburg, MS tomorrow night), so I'll continue with the next leg of our journey shortly.