Lost in the Mountains

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I got lost this weekend.

My boyfriend and I went up into the mountains on Saturday. We were heading for Chessman reservoir, up in the mountains. The plan was a picnic . . . roast chicken, sparkling cider, picnic blankets. I was planning on taking pictures.

I didn’t take any pictures.

We used Google maps, see. And Google maps doesn’t always take you where you think it’s going to take you.

It took us somewhere we weren’t expecting.

We ended up on a dirt road winding up through the mountains. Lots of boulders, dead trees, and gorgeous views. I loved it. Except the part about being lost on a road that was so narrow it was a little awkward to turn around.

That’s when my boyfriend’s phone ran out of service and the map glitched out, leaving us with a blank map and miles of nowhere stretching out in every direction.

We turned around three times.

We ended up at a gate on private property and decided that this was probably the wrong way. So we drove all the way back to where the road was paved again and followed the map old-school style to the reservoir.

This method worked.

Sort of.

The map brought us to another, even narrower dirt road with a ridiculous amount of traffic on it. Cliff on one side, hills on the other. We pulled over a lot. To let the cars by. When we finally made it to the lake, I was ready to get out of the car.

Except there was no parking. Because everyone and their brother and their sister and their Aunt Matilda had decided to visit Chessman reservoir that day. So we circled the parking lot, turned around one more time, and found a place next to a stream to have our picnic. Cliffs, gorgeous trees, sparkling cider, a hidden nook to have our picnic, and places to wade and cool off.

So it turned out pretty amazing.

Despite all the twists and turns.

What did you do on Memorial Day weekend? Any big plans? Tell me about it in the comments!

A Dozen Worlds

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You know what’s crazy about being a writer? Especially one with a full-time job?

The worlds I visit.

When I first started writing, I had one story.

One.

I had fragments of others, of course. But one ‘project’. One world that occupied all my time. The characters that whispered over my writing desk and tugged words out of my poor tired brain all belonged to a single story, and I liked it that way. It helped me focus. I knew what I was working on, I knew when to work on it, and I could devote my entire attention to one lovely, blossoming story that was growing bigger every day.

That was eight years ago.

Eight very long years.

Now my life is very different. My single world has split into many. I have a half a dozen stories sprouting up at my full-time job, all in different stages. Some are seeds of ideas, still needing a little sunlight, a little love before they’re ready for other eyes on them. Some are outlines, not quite blooming yet but sprouting up hurriedly, with lots of leaves and stems that will need trimming. And some—some have flowers.

But as much as I love seeing those half-dozen stories grow and flourish, they’re not the only worlds I live in. I have others too, books that are out in the world, books that are hopping back and forth between my editor and myself, books that are still trapped on my computer. Some of them are half-finished, others need a few chapters cut here, a section rewritten there. These stories get my love after my ‘official’ work is done for the day. When I can steal ten minutes or two hours out of a busy schedule. When I have a day off or a weekend free. When I can hide away, I grab my computer and add something to the growing pages. Five hundred words, or two sentences, a new character outline. Anything I can conjure up.

These projects grow very slowly. So slowly that sometimes I worry that I’m not making any progress at all, that I’ll never reach the end.

But I will. One day.

I have two stories like that just now. One with multiple books connected to it. Two stories. Two more worlds on top of a half-dozen others.

Then, there are the stories that live nowhere but in my head. No documents, no updated notebooks, not even an outline.

The stories that will be. The worlds that haven’t been created yet.

I have a dozen of these. Some of them are small still, just ideas. Some are completely fleshed out with characters and settings and plot lines that have never yet seen the light of day.

And they won’t.

Not yet. Probably not for years. When it’s time, I’ll dust them off and write that first word. That first chapter.

Until then, they’ll live on in my head. One more world to visit—when I have the time. When I can steal the minutes.

I live in a dozen different worlds at one time.

Occasionally I visit my own world too—although maybe a little less often then I should.

What kind of worlds have you been escaping into lately? Tell me about it in the comments!

Mountains, Mother’s Day, and . . .

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23 pounds of fresh lasagna!

Man, this was a crazy weekend. Anyone else feel like that? You’d think with social distancing and all that, the weekends would be more restful. You know, binge-watching, lying around on the couch, eating Cheetos and wondering when they’re going to let us out again.

Okay, I’ve done my share of that. If you replace Cheetos with marshmallows.

But this weekend didn’t turn out that way.

First of all, I dragged myself out of bed way too early on Saturday morning, and my boyfriend and I drove up to the Dillion reservoir. Because dating is hard when everything is closed. Thankfully they haven’t closed the mountains or the lakes, and Colorado has plenty of room to social distance even on our beaches.

(Don’t worry, we spread out our picnic blanket far more than six feet away from all the people.)

After driving all the way up there, around the lake, and back home, we’d logged about six hours of drive time all together. We saw bison on our way up, skipped rocks on the lake, got stomach aches from crazy gummy bears, and had a hard time not falling asleep on the way home. Long day.

But we had a blast anyway.

And where, you might be wondering, does the 23 pounds of fresh lasagna come into the mix?

I’m getting to that. See, I bought a pasta roller. Like, one of those machines that rolls your dough out good and thin so your pasta isn’t chewy. And since it was Mother’s Day on Sunday, I made lasagna for my mum. Fresh noodles, zucchini, ricotta cheese. The whole nine yards.

My sister helped.

It took about three hours, all told.

Since my family never does anything by halves, we ended up with a 23-pound pan of lasagna, way too much garlic bread, and so, so much fun working together. I started making fresh pasta a few months ago, and let me tell you, it’s been a hit. Cooking is one of my favorite hobbies, and doing it in a group, with my sister helping and a whole mix of younger siblings standing around watching and assisting as needed, is always a treat.

Plus, fresh lasagna is always welcome. No matter how long it takes to make it.

How was your weekend? Are you finding things to occupy you, even with all the social distancing going on?

A New Friend

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I named her Pepper.

Isn’t she pretty?

Yep, I bought a car. Finally. If you remember in this post, I talked about my old car dying. Basically, the wheel broke off. So, that generally means it shouldn’t be driven anymore.

At least, that’s what I hear.

So, it was time for a new car. I could have fixed the old one up, I suppose, but I was a bit sick of the airplane motor sound, the windows that didn’t open, the peeling steering wheel, and . . . what else? Oh yes. The nonexistent shocks. The ones that had me rattling over the dirt roads around my home like I was driving a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail.

Yep, it was time for a new car.

And not just any new car.

An Outback Subaru.

The ultimate Colorado car.

I’m in love.

I love Subarus, but this is the first time I’ve been able to afford one. (Yay for a real job!) It’s not brand new, but it runs! Now I can actually get into town again.

Once town opens up.

And I’m allowed to go back to my office.

At the very least, I can use it to drive up in the mountains or go visit the park near my house. Living out in the middle of nowhere without a car is seriously frustrating, because literally nothing is within walking distance.

Not even the mailbox.

Not even the mailbox.

I’ve seen TV shows and stuff where people have their mail delivered right to their door, and it always makes me laugh. We drive, what, two miles to get our mail? Maybe more? Going to get the mail is an adventure around here. It’s an expedition. We pack supplies and say goodbye to loved ones.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But you get my point. On a good day, I have a forty-five minute commute to get to work. On a bad day, it’s an hour. One way. I need a car. So Pepper is a welcome addition to the family, and I’m excited to finally have a set of wheels again.

Any exciting new additions in your home these days? Tell me about them in the comments!