When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

Our goal was to go wine (ing) on the Pacific Coast Highway: wine tasting through the California Winery Region, however no wine for us. Let me explain because I'm sure you were expecting a lovely article about the California Wine Trail and picturesque ocean scenes; so were we. It didn't happen.

As our final trip of 2017, JD and I met up in Palm Springs...

We took a romantic getaway weekend in San Diego to celebrate our 20th wedding...

The chance to hike Walden Woods where Henry David Thoreau wandered every morning, to dip my toes into Thoreau's own pond and see the actual site of his cabin where he wrote his philosophies that continue to inspire wanderers, travelers, humanitarians.  To see a place that both inspired and reflected his sense of simplicity, appreciation, gratitude, and kindness.

Along one of the turns, we saw a crashed van pulling a boat on the side of the road where yellow caution tape was up. We all had our theories about what possibly could have happened. Did the van get too close to the edge? Did foul play happen because it looked like gunshots in the windows? We’ll never know. We pulled over by the lake for a picnic lunch and enjoyed the serene views. When we got to the dam, we stopped and marveled at the history of all that this land holds and tried to imagine riding this trail via stagecoach. It was an adventure even by car.