We are now in California. We're nestled along a mountainside covered with plants and pine trees that do well in dry heat. Our cabin is not a cabin, after all. It is a cozy, perhaps doublewide, mobile home. I'm sitting on our covered deck looking beyond the trees to a pink horizon. We're still somewhat far from the City of Angels that holds onto our dreams.

Jeremy seems to have booked himself a few shows already and I just signed up for Backstage and have been working on my profile with them. I am content and in good humor, though we had a minor struggle that could still lead to disaster. Today the truck came with our belongings and could not make it up the mountain so the trailer sits about a mile away with a padlock waiting for us to unload. The kind driver followed me around looking for storage, but nothing was open around here. When we settled on the street parking, I got lost in the mountains trying to find my home so that I could pick up Jeremy to get a padlock.

I brought him back into town and left him with our things while I drove to the next town's hardware store. Unfortunately, we discovered too late that the lock was too small so he then went to the neighboring town to find something more suitable. While I waited, I sat in ants drinking a Coors Light. I chose a beer that seemed suitable for my environment. He called to let me know that the grocery store I sent him to seemed to be on fire. It was actually a mobile home parked in front of the store that I suspect was a mini-meth-lab. Just a guess. We are among mountain folk.

We're hoping the lock I bought will suffice in the alternative place we chose to lock up. I think all will be fine, regardless. After all, I did see a bald eagle flying overhead while I guarded our possessions. The drive here moved with similar awe and odd luck. I will be backtracking my stories, now that we're settled and now that we have Internet, which is an entirely different story among our adjustments to mountain living. I will back track to the fundraiser, the album, and whatever else I neglected to mention that's worth remembering.

The move -

So packing wasn't the easiest challenge and what took us about two hours to do with a couple of friends took us twelve hours and several infirmed road trips through the storage complex so we could load onto a trailer. Once that was over, we took the next day to take care of some simple things like closing out accounts and loading the little Honda. Then we had dinner with his parents, slept there, and had breakfast with them before heading out. That brings us to Wednesday.

I totally anticipated letting myself or the dogs out on the side of the road, permanently, on this road trip, but we've all been very well behaved. Knowing my younger self, I believe I would have fully been able to make this lifelong decision in a hairy moment. From the backseat, the little one nestled her head in between us for suitable nurturing and in spite of the mother, Midnight, whimpering, we all got along splendidly. The little Fudge did have a moment of carsickness, though.

We arrived at Jeremy's brother's house in Iowa City a little late. Of course, we started late. James' son and dogs spent the night at their mother's so we received a no-pressure tour of the clean, pleasant college town and dined at an organic veggie restaurant that served delicious food and spirits. The brothers razzed me a bit about sending my locally grown special back, but I'm just not into barely cooked potatoes. When we arrived back at the house our dogs had adjusted nicely on their own. Conversation carried us for quite some time until we drifted to a very settling sleep.

In the morning, I made a crude joke about my bowel movements which aroused more razzing from Jeremy. I thought I was pretty funny, but I guess I shouldn't repeat my offense here and now. After James went off to do his daily living, we took off towards Nebraska. I enjoyed the serene fields and big sky for a while, but the drive provided a little entertainment toward the final stretch. Every radio station sounded with the EBS warning that there was a tornado with a low ground-to-lightning ratio and golf ball-sized hail. The warning informed drivers to find a low-ditch to take cover in, but Jeremy and I marveled at the storm just behind us knowing it moved south while we traveled west and fled with hope and excitement in us.

When we arrived at the hotel we arranged thanks to the iPhone we watched the lightning from afar. The sign in Grand Junction informed us we were officially in the west. YAY. We walked to the neighboring saloon for dinner, took a spell in the hotel Jacuzzi, then bedded down for the night. The dogs woke me in the morning to let me know guests were walking by so I got up for some hotel breakfast and then had Jeremy photograph me in front of the old mail carriage to send to my USPS employed mom.

Back on the road, Midnight's whining subsided mostly. Her triggers seemed to come at the start of a trip and anytime we slowed down because, as Jeremy put it, the dogs thought we were taking a "park tour across America." I played on the iPhone looking for the next stop or trying to beat the computer Othello, but with the navigator distracted, Jeremy continued without direction a couple of hours past our turn off and into Wisconsin. Fortunately, the same gadget managed to GPS us to another route without having to turn back.

That's where we discovered the majesty of the Rocky Mountains. I'm not even certain how to describe them or the fanciful clouds above. When we stopped for the night, I really wanted to utilize the ping-pong and pool tables, but for safety and policy Jeremy stayed in the room. Not having a partner for the recreation, I took myself out for Mexican food.

We took back to the road straight away the next morning. Though I found Colorado more breathtaking, Utah is arguably no less spectacular. Just before the mountains, Jeremy asked if I thought he should get gas. Now, I was limited to the GPS system. Without a paper map, I could confirm nothing, but I suggested there may not be another town until the very end of Utah.

Confident that there must be services between the start and the end, Jeremy risked the drive on half a tank of gas. For at least 75 miles, we drove completely on empty with upgrades providing a shadowy threat and downgrades a welcomed relief for us to coast in neutral down the mountains. We arrived to the end in the nick of time. On a side note, Utah joins it's rest areas with service stations so we missed out on the "park" action there and had to walk the dogs in Wendy's picnic area.

We spent the evening in Nevada not far from Lake Mead where we attempted to take the dogs around Dusk. Unfortunately, for us, for many, and for the lake, the water level was tragically low. I followed the boat launch for some time, but not too long, before being frightened by bats in the darkening sky. We surrendered to our mothball scented room at the Holiday Inn with only one more day before home.

We took our time the next morning thinking we had plenty of it, but none of us, including the car, were feeling speedy in the Nevada heat. The long incline before the agricultural checkpoint in California forced us to drive slowly, turn on the heat occasionally, and stop often. Fortunately, none of us over heated.

When we arrived here just before the stars took the sky, we realized we moved directly into the mountains. The two most alarming turns of the drive were less than half a mile from our home. I called Amy and Myra, my friends who led us to this home and who live on the other side of the lake, to let them know we were here and that Jeremy was certain we were staying because we were, "not going back down that mountain." Today, we're both comfortable with the drive, but that first night Jeremy drove up the snake-ish path with no certainty that there would be road on the other side of the hill. With laughter at the flatlanders, Amy and Myra promised rescue.

The welcoming committee soon arrived with food, sheets, and beer and we sat on our large covered deck to toast our arrival.

be surreal,

Amy
www.amyarena.com