We're going to Vegas, Baby!

The short of it is: A phone call from my mom, who lives in MN, to me, who lives in AZ, saying "I'm going to Vegas. Meet me there?"

Yes, that's really all it took.

First, let me just say, if you love to people-watch, get thee to Vegas. If you stand on any street corner for little more than, say, 15 minutes, you will see every size, shape, age, gender, and nationality that there is to see. (Is this statement politically correct? Whatever, it's my blog.) And exposed boobs. More exposed boobs than you'd ever want to see, or, in the case of my husband, "isn't Vegas awesome?" Note: mine were covered. I'm just not that cavalier about showing my body in public.

Vegas used to have space. Not so much anymore. It has concrete and glass, lots of it. Every usable inch of land has been built upon so, yup, you can't see the forest for the trees. This was remarkable to me because I haven't been there for 30 years. I can wait another 30 before I go back (or at least a month or so). Explanation? I don't like lots about Vegas, but then again, it does offer one a break from reality, (me, to my husband, "This is really fun. Are you sure we're still participating in our real life?") and that's often a good thing. So, trips to Vegas, in moderation, might be the best approach.

But the trip via car? Awesome. Here's why:



The red hills of Sedona, AZ. Magnificent. And,




The Hoover Dam. Incredible.