I ACCOMPLISHED SOMETHING TODAY.

And that something is not getting lost.

I know it’s not a big deal – everyone gets lost, but I was born with a broken sense of navigation. For your own safety, never listen to my directions in a car. I can’t go off of addresses and I can only remember landmarks. I say to turn right when it’s actually left, and to go this way when it’s actually that.

This comes in trouble when I’m driving somewhere on my own. I was driving to Delta, one hundred miles away from my hometown. This is the furthest I’ve ever been flying solo. I convinced myself and everyone that I remembered the way. Yea yea yea, go past this, turn here and there, and you’ll know you’re in the right spot when you wind up in the middle of the desert.

“Okay, but don’t get lost, there’s bad cell phone service out here,” Dale reminds me one last time before I head between the mountainous region that Verizon doesn’t cover.

“l’ll be fine. You might get call from me saying that there is sagebrush on one side and a dirt road on the other, and wait, where am I again?” The silence on the other end let me know how well received that stab at a joke went. “No really. I’ll survive.”

I thought of the emergency 72 hour kit I had in the trunk of my car. I thought of the fact that I’d forgotten my pillow. MY PILLOW. Also known as my security blanket, and I had this crazy urge to turn back for it although I was already seventy miles into the trip.

I also thought of the fact that I’d forgotten a jacket. Anyone that lives in the desert knows that the difference in temperatures here is as different as night and day. But I was optimistic. It can’t be that hard to remember the way to somewhere I’d previously been right?

Thinks the girl that gets lost going to her own sister’s house.

I tried to remember the names of bordering towns, in case I needed a landmark to pinpoint my geographical location. What’s the name of that one town?

Fruit oriented. . .Lemon-something?

Lemon Drop?

Key Lime Pie?

Oh yea, Leamington.

Close enough, right?

The lyrics of Death Cab for Cutie, SafetySuit and many other of my favorite musicians serenaded me towards my destination. I tend to live in the moment, which means I tend to listen to music that applies to what I’m going through. And sure enough, right when I thought I’d taken a wrong turn, I hear the Fray softly singing “Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me”.

Thankfully nobody had to find me. I found my own way, and for that I’m dang proud. Now if I could just find a Two Jacks Pizza here we’d be set, but that might be asking for a bit much. For now I’ll settle with a McDonald’s sausage biscuit and a big cold cup of Mountain Dew.

I’M FEELING SHY RIGHT NOW. Wondering how you’ll think of me after I post this. Wondering if I’ll care.

Of course I’ll care.

But will it hurt? Why does posting a video of myself make me feel so. . .so. . .vulnerable? Is it the fact that I can’t edit it? Is it how you can now see the way my upper corner of my right lip tilts upwards while I talk, and how my eyes are slightly cross eyed, and how my hair is in dire need of a cut and color? What about how my eyes are closed at the beginning, or how I’m all awkward while saying “see ya!” at the end?

Well, for better or for worse, here I am. Unedited, uncropped and unphotoshopped. Also unscripted, so there will be a lot of “oohs, ahhs and ums” throughout the whole thing from me.

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN DAYS I logged back into wordpress, checked for new comments – which weren’t there, looked at my visitor stats – which are disappearing – and thought about what to write. Not that I don’t have plenty I could write about, I mean, come on! I’m so random that I blog about penguins, the size of my pants and watching Twilight. No, it wasn’t lack of material, it was the gargantuan decision of which experience to share with you first.

Where have I been you ask? Not on Twitter, Plurk, Facebook or even Flickr. I’ve been living. Horse back riding. Camping. Fishing. Chasing flying tents and rounding up mangy dogs. Getting thrown over an old mares neck and fixing my rundown car. Reading. Watching movies. Spending time with family. Riding human slingshots.

I hope no one hates when I blog in reverse, but memories last forever. I figure I don’t have to immediately document something just to verify that it really happened.

The Spiral Jetty is a local Utah attraction that is a piece of completely organic artwork, left uncovered to face battling elements.

In short, some dude took a bunch of rocks from the mountain. . .

That’s Dale’s truck, Ol’ Jesse. I’m still unsure as to the gender, it changes every time he talks about it.

. . .and piled them up in short water to look like a curly cue. Don’t ask.

We decided to drive out there the other day while we were at a horse auction. The sign said it was only nine miles out of the way. What the heck, might as well right? Wrongo. An hour and a half later we were still battling our way down the rocky road. Best thing that happened was when the stupid guy in the Chevy behind us got highcentered on a rock.

And for laughing at him, I’m probably going to hell.

I pretended to be Vanna White and display the Spiral Jetty and all it’s glory. Too bad I look like I’m up to trouble in this photo. When DON’T I look like I’m up to no good?

Peace out.