Reporting from Gallup, NM on yesterday's adventures in Arizona

In a Best Western now in Gallup New Mexico. We pulled in about 11 o'clock last night after making it all the way across Arizona yesterday. That's not record speed--we took our time and made lots of new friends. After checking out the Mother Road Harley Davidson store in Kingman, we stumbled upon this watering hole.


Sure looks inviting...


I swear to God, this guy was reading How Math Can Save Your Life.


Look--Stiff made a friend! Yeah, that's some kind of giant lizard in there.


Back on the road.


We stopped at the Ash Fork visitor's center on Route 66. They had a cool little museum where I kicked ass in a quick game of poker.


As luck would have it, look what was right down the road.


Don't worry, Mom. It was totally safe.


I have a funny as hell story to tell you about this place, but I'll wait until the video uploads.

Here's Lori at our next stop.


This place is actually pretty far from the Grand Canyon, which is not on our itinerary. I figured out yesterday I've been to the south rim six times and north and west rims once each.

East of Flagstaff reminds me of Wyoming.



I guess it's pretty obvious what I'm doing here.


Today we're off to Albuquerque and then on to Santa Fe, where we'll be staying with one of my dearest friends from Albany. Her house is going to be awesome, I just know it.

Better get back on the road...

Kingman, AZ 10:30 am

Whew! Right now I'm in a Day's Inn on Route 66 in Kingman, AZ, less than 100 miles outside of Las Vegas. Yep, this is as far as we got on our first day of travel. No, I should say, our first night of travel. We finally got packed up and out of my apartment at 10:45 last night and then instead of being sane and hitting the road right away, we went to Emerald Island Casino in downtown Henderson, where I lost a dollar and Lori picked up a quick 30 bucks for the trip. So it was minutes from midnight when we finally got on the highway, and it was nearly 2 a.m. when we checked in.

Doesn't my dog, Stiff, look cute in the back of the car?



Man, moving takes a lot more time than I remembered! I honestly don't know what I would have done without my dear BFF Kri and my strong-as-bull sister Lori. The entire move was fueled by girl power! Mike and I are moving simultaneously or he would have helped, of course. And his move is a nightmare--the contents of a huge house.

Despite my best efforts at Purgefest 2010, my 5x10 storage bin is filled to the brim, and I'm sure that whenever I look at that stuff again, I'll throw more than half of it out. And I should--as I took one final look at that stuff, I thought, "The set designer from Sanford and Son called. He wants his junk back."

Well, better get back to the road. First stop will be the Kingman Harley Davidson shop we drove by last night. I'll be posting photos as they happen on my Facebook page with my new phone, though because I'm such a freakin' techno-spaz, I either don't post what I think I'm posting or post the same thing a hundred times. So be patient with me.

Jeez, that works on so many levels.

Hey, I had breakfast yesterday with my dear blogging buddy Julie from 47 and Starting Over. It was SO wonderful to see her! She lost like 30 pounds since we got together last May--she looks amazing! (I, however, don't look so hot--this is how I look when I'm in the middle of a move and without make-up. So. not. pretty.)


Okay, now I'm really going.

Better late than never

Jeez, it's taken me long enough to post today, huh?

Yesterday was my last day at work and my awesome co-workers took me out to lunch at Bootlegger's, which is always yum. They all chipped in for a couple of gift cards to chain restaurants, which will be put to good use on our trip cross-country. So nice.

Lori arrived yesterday afternoon and last night a bunch of us had some drinks at Ovation Lounge in Green Valley Ranch and then stayed for my favorite classic rock tribute band, Yellow Brick Road. Oh, it was so much fun! I have the absolute best, best, BEST friends on earth. I'm so incredibly lucky!

We danced our asses off and holy crap, I stayed up until 3 o'clock in the morning, which is the latest I've stayed up in a long, long time. Needless to say, I was moving pretty slowly this morning, but by afternoon I got into gear and increased the productivity. Still a lot to do, but we'll get everything moved into the storage bin by tomorrow night. Then we'll be hitting the road on Monday after we meet Julie from 47 and Starting Over for breakfast at the Omelet House. Can't. wait. to see her--it's been almost a year since her visit to Vegas last year.

I am so freaking excited. I don't know what time we'll realistically hit the road on Monday, but we'll make our way toward Santa Fe, which is our first real stop. I have a dear friend who lives there, and we'll stay probably two nights so we can take a trip up to Taos. Lori's off from work through Memorial Day weekend, and we're gonna go wherever the road leads us.

I'm so lucky! I have never lived in the present moment like I am right now. There are still so many unknowns about the next few months, but I definitely plan on coming back to Vegas. I have a couple of speaking gigs here in Vegas scheduled for July, and I'll fly back for a couple of weeks then. But beyond that... no idea. Life will unfold exactly as it should.

I'm going to try to blog every day from the road. I just got a new T-Mobile version of the i-Phone, so hopefully I'll be able to figure that friggin' thing out and post some videos as well. Right now I'm trying to get simple texting down.

Lots to look forward to. LOTS!!!

Moving, Mom, and more…

Man, I’m achy from moving stuff. Maybe you saw my comment on Facebook saying I am not in the shape I was when I moved all this crap in here seven years ago and I’m not kidding. Back then I was teaching eight yoga classes a week and hiking every weekend; since I’ve been in Vegas, my writing kicked in big time, which translates to thousands of hours sitting on my ass. I have to get back into shape; moving a few boxes shouldn’t feel like this.

So Tuesday night Hurricane Mikey came over to drop off my hand truck and my BFF Kri was here to help me move stuff and I don’t know why, but all of a sudden I bolted out of a closet and asked, “Hey, are these jumper cables?” Kri thought it was hysterical and snapped this photo on her phone.


Don’t I look super happy, like I found a thousand dollar bill or something? I didn’t even know I had jumper cables! If I’d known, I could have saved a trip to Walmart last year when my little Wonder Saturn had to rescue Mikey’s dead-batteried truck at the M.

Obviously I didn’t look in that closet very often. It was mainly filled with boxes of high school journals and junk that I hadn’t opened since I moved here, and I probably didn’t look at them when I moved to Utah in 2002 or Wyoming in 2001. They’re just boxes that I’m going to move with me everywhere I go until I die. Then my kids will have the chore of going through them and they’ll be all like, “Jesus H, why didn’t she get rid of this shit during Purgefest 2010?” and then they’ll have to throw them out. Finally. But in the meantime, they’re now in my storage bin.

I started tearing my apartment down Monday after work. Mike was over Sunday night and it still looked perfect. I told him I was having second thoughts about giving this awesome place up and he was like, “Jesus H, Linda.” He actually doesn’t say “Jesus H” but that was the gist of it. Anyway, once I started boxing stuff up, I started to get psyched and now I’m really, really psyched.

So I had a fun trip to Boise last weekend. I dragged Mom and Jim to Flicks, my favorite movie theater that sells microbrew beer in their concession stand. This nice guy at right took our picture. Actually, I’m standing next to him, but I cut myself out because you know me, I post only flattering or at least semi-flattering pictures of myself because I’m so freakin’ vain and I didn't like the way I looked in that one.


I have my hair a little lighter these days. It still looks shitty, you know me.

Anyway, Mom and I were watching TV and an ad came on for the new Sex and the City movie. I said I can’t stand those girls—they all seem fake as hell and I wouldn’t want to be friends with any of them except for maybe Miranda—and Mom said she saw the first movie and she’ll go see the second one, too. My mother likes Sex and the City and I don’t? Who knew?

How about you? Would you be surprised to find jumper cables in your closet? Do you have boxes of crap that will be nothing but a bothersome chore for your kids upon your demise? Is your mother into Sex and the City? Do you say, “Jesus H”? Do you know what the “H” even stands for? Now, there’s something to Google.

Clarification on yesterday's post

Hmmm... Judging from the comments on yesterday's post, I'm not sure I communicated my intention properly. Meeting B.H. was a good thing; he brought amazing gifts to my life. My book really is a love story--love for him, love for myself. The universe unfolds in divine order, as evidenced by my decision to venture out of my hotel room that night 10 years ago.

It's all good. No, it's amazing.

How one small decision changed my life as I knew it

I had a totally different post in mind. I was going to tell you about my trip to Boise, until I realized the significance of today’s date.

One night in the Marriott lounge outside of Buffalo, a pleasant-looking Indian man sitting next to me asked, “Are you writing about all the characters you see in here?”

“I wish.” I smiled, folding my papers. “This is work crap.”

“You’ll like my friend here,” he said, pointing to the casually-dressed fellow next to him who looked like he’d done some time on a rugby field. “The two of you should talk.”

The rugby guy seemed like the playful type. “Light beer?” I teased with mock distain as I held up my Guinness. “You don’t know how to drink!” I’d be eating those words in time.

The “one night” referred to here was May 11, 2000. The “rugby guy” was none other than Bastard Husband. Yep, 10 years ago today, BH came into my life.

I was working on the road as a contract trainer for Fleet Bank. Oh, how I loved that job! I know—you never hear me say anything about liking work, but that gig was awesome. I worked 15 days per month training newly hired bank customer service personnel and was paid a fantastic per diem rate. I loved training people and I loved traveling throughout the Northeast, and I LOVED the fact that the remaining week in the month was completely my own. That’s the kind of gig I’m willing myself for this summer!

Anyway, I remember sitting in my hotel room trying to decide whether to go downstairs and do some social bungee jumping in the lounge. I kind of wanted to just chill in my room, but for some reason, I put on some fresh lipstick and ventured out. Imagine if I had decided to catch some Must-See TV instead? My life would look nothing like it does today. I probably never would have made it out West, or traveled to places I’ve been to, or written a book, or done stand-up, or had my own show, or be posting on this blog.

How about you? Have you ever made a seemingly inconsequential decision that, in retrospect, changed your life forever? Tell us about it!

Knowing it may be half the battle, but I'm still a kook

So I'm sitting in the B gate area of McCarran airport yesterday waiting for my flight to Boise. Every other time I've flown Southwest we've gone out of the C gates, which I much prefer because that's where my favorite bar to make new airport friends is. But okay, I'm making the best of it. Of course, I'm there an hour early because I'm neurotic about missing my flight, but I have my newspaper and the latest Rolling Stone and People magazines, so I'm well armed for the wait.

So I'm sitting there kind of away from the rest of the travelers, but within view of my gate, totally minding my own business when I see some motion on the floor a couple of feet away from me. It's a freakin' BIRD hopping around! I let out a gasp loud enough for the people around me to pause their cell phone conversations, grab my carry-on, rush over to gate B11, and plop myself next to the biggest guy I could find.

"There's a freakin' bird over there," I tell him. "You have to protect me."

"No problem," he said. He was really nice and we got to talking, but quite honestly I could hardly pay attention to what he was saying because all I could think about was that freakin' bird.

"Birds should not be allowed inside," I declared, "especially in an airport. Like if there's a bird in Costco, you can just abandon your shopping cart and dash out of the store, you know? But you can't run out of the airport; you gotta get on your flight." I paused. "Should I call 9-1-1?"

My protector assured me he had everything under control; there was no need to summon the authorities. He was a swell guy. At one point he excused himself to use the rest room and inside I was all like, You can't leave! There's a bathroom on the plane, can't you hold it? but on the outside I was like, Oh, yeah. That's totally cool.

I hate birds. A couple of weeks ago as I approached the stairs to my apartment I saw a bird on the sidewalk up ahead of me. I coughed and jiggled my keys to scare it away (as I always do), but the damn thing wouldn't budge. There was no going around it because it was right in my path. At one point, I stopped and again was like, Should I call 9-1-1? but I was in a particularly brave mood and so I stepped closer, continuing my coughing and key jiggling routine.

Then I stepped a little closer. And a little closer. And then I saw... it was only a pine cone.

But that was definitely a bird I saw in the airport. Definitely.

TSA worker gives nun head and other cool photos!

Take a look at this picture. I saw this on Facebook and asked my friend Lori Van Buren if I could post it here. Lori’s a photographer for the Albany Times Union. Her Facebook post says, “I was at the airport shooting something for work. Looked down at the TSA checkpoint and I had to shoot this. Let’s come up with some good captions.”


Can you freakin' believe that?

This reminds me of the time in the Hartford, CT, airport when I was in back of this little old Italian lady who set the scanner off with her rosary beads. Half a dozen people were patting her down and wanding her and causing a general ruckus. Don’t hate me for saying this, but if 99.9 percent of the troublemakers fit a certain profile, let’s direct our guerrilla prevention tactics at them instead of Mother Teresa’s first cousin or an elderly nun with the map of Ireland on her face. Sometimes being politically correct can be just plain stupid.

And now for the latest pics I stole off Courtney’s site.

Hazey in tie-dye. She looks like a good, sturdy baby, huh?


A close-up. I swear, I am gonna eat. her. up. when I see her later this month!



And here she is as a future How Am I Normal? contributor.


Funny, I bet I could dig up some photos of her mother and uncle similarly surrounded by guitars. Yeah, they could definitely contribute.

Hey, thanks for the feedback on my anthology idea. I’ve already received several submissions--yay!

One last pic. I had dinner last night at Grimaldi’s with Hurricane Mikey and blog reader Tricia and her husband of Champaign, Illinois. I met Tricia a couple of months ago after my show—it was great to see her again and meet her husband, Mike. Thanks again for dinner, you guys!


The blogosphere is a wonderful place. I’ve made so many friends here. I’m a very lucky gal.

Jettin' up to Boise this weekend to spend Mother's Day with Mom and Stepdaddy. Again, I'm a lucky gal.

The Halle Berry story--do you believe it?

I pulled this off the AOL news feed the other day. Okay, yes, I still have an AOL account. In my defense, it’s not my only or primary email. Oh, who cares. Look at this:

Halle Berry is reportedly splitting from model Gabriel Aubry, ending a five-year relationship. The couple has a 2-year-old daughter, Nahla Ariel Aubry.

"They've worked out a financial and custody deal. They spent months hammering out a deal with a lawyer," RadarOnline.com reports.

Although we have yet to hear from either beautiful celebrity's camp, Radar's source says the couple's age difference -- he's 34, she's 43 -- played a big part in their split.

The couple’s age difference played a big part in their split???

[Channeling Stewie Griffin] Say whaaaaaaaat?

Nine years is a big age difference? Okay, a 20-year-old should never be with an 11-year-old; I think we’re in agreement about that. But Jesus H, Bastard Husband was 34 when I met him and I was almost 43 and… well, that didn’t work out, but it wasn’t because of the age difference.

"Gabriel just felt it wasn't working anymore," Radar's source says. "When they were first together, the 9-year age difference between them didn't phase him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever dated and he was totally in love. But as time went on he started feeling it more and more. Also, Gabriel started noticing other women and being attracted to others, and he felt it just wasn't right to stay with Halle in those circumstances."

You gotta be kidding me. As time went on, he started feeling what? Started feeling sick of looking at the most beautiful woman on the planet?

Jesse James called; he wants his douchebaggery back.


Wait, wait, wait. Maybe we should give this guy the benefit of the doubt. Surely radaronline.com is full of shit. If you’re banging Halle Berry, wouldn’t you be spending every waking minute praising Jesus, Buddha, and Allah? Hell, I’ll even throw in Joseph Smith. Who could be so stupid, so unappreciative of what he has? Who? I ask.

Oh. Tiger Woods.

My grandmother must have said a thousand times, “Men are pathetic creatures, dear.” I don’t believe that; I know tons of men who are cute, sweet, caring, loving, funny… going straight to heaven. But jeez, Granny was right about some of them. Stupid boys.

Still, this story is a little tough to believe. Do you buy it? I don't think I do.

You tell me: How are you normal?

I’ve been mulling over this idea for a new project for a while and after running it by a couple of people, I'm going to move forward with it. You know the Chicken Soup for the Soul series? I have an essay in one of their volumes, and maybe you do, too. Having that publishing credential is a feather in your cap--especially if you’re looking to build your author’s platform--but let’s be honest, the stories are rather, um… sanitized.

Recently the Chicken Soup people did a book on dysfunctional families, and you know them--it's all nicey-nicey. I want to publish an anthology of stories on the same topic but with edgy humor and a bad-ass attitude. This will be a collection of first-person essays about how it's possible to survive your childhood and turn out just fine despite your nutty upbringing. No mean-spirited rants or sad stories of survival (though you know I love the blend of humor and poignancy). I'm looking for irony, originality, a distinct voice, high quality writing, and a story that'll crack up me.

My working title is How Am I Normal? but I’m totally open to suggestions. I also need to come up with a subtitle.

I really want to give first-time writers a shot at being published, so don’t be shy. There’s no entry fee, reading fee, or cost for editing—all you have to do is tell a funny story.

IMPORTANT: Your story MUST be true, though exaggerations for the sake of humor are acceptable. Here's an example in this passage from Bastard Husband: A Love Story.

I grew up in Albany, New York, where I lived for the first forty-three years of my life. I’m the oldest of five kids spaced over a fourteen-year period, which means I was in ninth grade when my little sister was born. My mother and the girl who sat next to me in French class were pregnant at the same time. Yuk.

Maybe because she always had a new baby to be home with, Mom became increasingly comfortable staying in the house, eventually to the point where she couldn’t leave. She developed agoraphobia and was often doped up on “nerve pills,” which kept her sacked out on the couch for most of the day, waking up for only two things: Jeopardy and the weather during the six o’clock news. Considering she never left the house, the obsession with the weather seemed a bit peculiar. Perhaps she wondered, “Will I need the heavy afghan over me tomorrow or just a light cotton blanket?”

Of course, my mother actually did wake up for things besides Jeopardy and the six o’clock news. That’s an example of an acceptable exaggeration. Everything else is true, though. You get it. (And this also begs the “How am I normal?” question.)

Deadline for submission is August 1, 2010. I expect to have this ready in time for holiday gift giving. I've posted full submission guidelines on www.agingnymphsmedia.com, so go take a look. And help me spread the word!

I think this is going to be a really fun project, and I am committed to making this a high-quality publication that you’ll be proud to be a part of.

Questions? Shoot an email to me at linda@agingnymphsmedia.com.

Now get writing!