First, something important. Critical. You should already know this just from reading my blog, but I’m going to underscore it anyway. You CANNOT TRUST YOUR GPS. They’re helpful. They’re great tools. They’re also evil. Or least mine is.
Here’s the thing, navigation systems take you the quickest way (or, if you choose, as I sometimes do, the most backwards off-road, off-grid inefficient way). But what they cannot predict are conditions. Actually that’s not true. I’m sure somebody out there has the super pimp GPS that predicts real-time weather conditions and traffic and geothermal activity (I couldn’t sleep last night and ended up watching ALL of “Volcano” with Tommy Lee Jones). But Satie is not that GPS. As such, she tried to send me over some ridiculous mountain pass during a snowstorm (avoided thanks to directions from wise friend Heather and her husband) and yesterday, she tried to send me down a dirt road – shocking – that was flooded. I only knew about this flooding because I had read the National Parks Web site advisories for Canyonlands the night before.
So I’m just saying … Use the GPS. Love the GPS. Do your homework. Follow your instincts. I realize this advice is absolutely going to come back and bite me in the ass sometime. Probably soon.
Today I’m in Cortez, Colorado, about to visit Mesa Verde National Park, but before I get to that, Mom requested that I tell about the nice people in Utah. It’s not such a good story, really, unless you were there. It was just one of those mornings where every person I met gave me the impression that they might hug me if they had known me for perhaps six minutes longer. There was the grinny kid at the hotel who checked me out. I say kid because he looked 22 and he giddily slipped me the name of his band on a Post It note. Then there was the lady at Walgreens, who bounced over to me in the shampoo aisle to say, “If you don’t have the coupons for those, come to MY counter to check out. I can save you a dollar on the shampoo AND the conditioner!” And then there was the gas station, where I stopped to fill my tank and buy water for the day. I walked in, and this amazingly trippy curly-haired woman was jamming out behind the counter to the Beatles, “All You Need is Love.” She didn’t say anything particularly special, but it was just her … I’ve never felt like a person in a gas station was so genuinely engaged in a conversation with me. I felt like she cared about me. It was bizarre.
Anyway, I decided everyone was celebrating the marvelous Evan Shoemake’s birthday – Happy birthday, Ev (yesterday)! Utah loves you! (That’s him on Halloween … Solid Gold dancer and man who shares my dearest childhood dreams.)
So, back to Colorado, where I will be for the next few hours at least. And this is ALSO important: Right now I’m at one of the greatest coffee shops I’ve ever been in. They have amazing coffee. They have great food. They have art. They have lots of cute little old men having their morning joe. They have a little room where they show movies every Monday night. !!
It will come as no surprise to those who know me that a magnificent coffee shop goes a very, very long way with me. And now I’m going to measure every coffee shop I ever go to against this one. Will Santa Fe be able to measure up to my Colorado coffee romance?