The Grand Onion

Two nights before we left Charleston, we went out to dinner with Tim's parents. His step-father and I killed a bottle of Pinot and tried to name every movie on the Top 100 Films of All Time, but Tim's mother was more focused and gave us a beautiful extra large atlas of the United States. When she gave it to us, she strongly suggested we actually look at it instead of just blindly driving and hoping we'd come across cool things (how do Mothers know everything before we do it?). Admittedly, we didn't take a peek in the atlas until we reached Georgia, and it wasn't until Alabama that we realized we would be passing through the Grand Canyon. We were beyond-words-excited by the time we were in Mississippi, and by Arkansas, Tim had taken to calling our destination "The Grand Onion" for reasons unknown (but let's be honest-it feels REALLY good to say those words out loud).

                                                                    




















Due to some really impressive last-minute internet hotel shopping, Tim got us reservations inside the Grand Canyon National Park. We arrived when it was dark, but we could smell the canyon air for miles around.  In the morning, we got up early and spent hours walking along the Southern Rim. Gorgeous.

Don't worry, there's more to this story than "my husband and I visited the Grand Onion and I took some mediocre-at-best pictures."

Oh, yes, there is more.

If any of you have ever been the victim of my Leica, you'll know it makes a really satisfying "chuh-KINK" sound when the shutter closes. People LOVE it. Animals maybe not so much. On the path that wound back to the parking lot, Tim and I wandered around a corner and suddenly found ourselves within 5 yards of an EIGHT FOOT TALL FEMALE ELK. I, of course, sprung into "chuh-KINK" action and began snapping as many pictures as I could because when am I ever going to see an elk again without a gate between us?! I moved closer and closer (but still within tolerable distance) until I heard Tim shout several expletives and yelled "WHAT are you doing?! Get away from it!" I looked down at my preview-screen and realized that the elk had begun running at me, and was now a mere 12-16 inches away from my face. Here are the REAL shots I got on my camera.

I froze. And I realized that I was about 8 feet away from the canyon rim. I also realized that I had exactly one chance to move laterally away from the elk. I jumped to the side and into Tim's arms just as the elk took another 4 steps that would have almost certainly involved nudging me closer to the abyss. Tim lead a mother and her baby around the elk-attacking area while I collected myself and reviewed my pictures. When Tim got back, he politely inquired if I thought putting myself in harm's way was worth the blurry shot of the running elk.

UM YES.

Stewart's Petrified Wood & Oddities!

                                                                     









By the time we reached the New Mexico/Arizona border, Tim and I had seen our fair share of strange side-of-the-road flea markets, antique stores, and Native American flute stands. We stopped and admired, but nowhere compared to Stewart's Petrified Wood & Oddities. It's right on I-40 (and the original Route 66) and you won't be able to miss it because you'll be in the middle of nothing-nothing-nothing New Mexico and then all of a sudden you'll look up and see LIFE SIZED PLASTER DINOSAURS eating LIFE SIZED PLASTER HUMANS. But that's not all! Once you drive over the dirt roads that lead to Stewart's, you'll park in front of several large ostrich pens, complete with decorative 10 foot tall teepees and about 30 gigantic birds, which you might be tempted to pet if not for the large painted signs reading "CAUTION: OSTRICHES BITE". In the area surrounding the main building there are broken cars, mannequins that have been baking in the sun for probably three decades, stone bears, and more plaster-of-Paris creatures than you thought existed in America. 

                                                                 










I never quite got the whole story from the lady working at Stewart's, but I did find out that regrettably the business is going under. More than anything else on our trip, I'm glad we stopped and explored here-Tim and I talked about it for miles after we left (comma of course). It's a one-of-a-kind place and I'm sorry to see it go. However, if you're interested in saving it (and being the coolest person that ever existed ever) the land is for sale and the ostriches too. No word on whether or not you can buy the dinosaurs or the sun splotched mannequins, but we took a card so... fingers crossed.

Farmer's Market, Santa Fe

On the fourth day of our cross-country excursion, Tim and I found ourselves in beautiful Santa Fe. This one-of-a-kind city is 7,000 feet up in the air and bursting at the seams with artists, outdoor gear, green chilies, and more turquoise than you've ever seen in your entire life...COMBINED. We decided to linger an extra day and night and woke up on Saturday morning to the most idyllic South Western farmer's market, complete with real breakfast burritos, ristras, cowboys, and musical saw bands.

Arrival/Anniversary

Yesterday we moved into our new house and ALSO IT WAS OUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY. We could have moved in Sunday night, but thinking ourselves very romantic and important, we staved it off by staying about two hours outside of LA and arrived almost to the hour of our wedding (East Coast time). For the last week, we've laughed ourselves across the country, saw the Grand Canyon, drank martinis in our sweatpants in fancy hotel lobbies, and celebrated 366 days of hilarity and pure bliss. 

Congratulations to us. It's been a big year and there's a lot of celebrating yet to be done. HAPPIEST anniversary to my love. From your tiny ghetto dancer.