Welcome to the Dirty Dirty.

This city girl thought that camping in the dirty-dirty would be fun. Ha. We are at our camp site, some fifteen miles outside of Memphis, for no more than twenty minutes when I realized that the bugs down here were going to give me an anxiety attack and the heat might just sweat us to death. I have a hangover from the show in Hot Springs the night before, I’ll I’ve had to eat is a pop tart and a banana, so the hungry grumps are starting to set in, and I’m on the verge of crying when Jarvis tells me, “it’s okay if you don’t want to stay, we can go get a hotel.” I was trying to man-up about the whole scenario, but as soon as my wonderful hubby offers me an out, I take it without thinking twice. Nothing compares to California camping! That shit was ridiculous.

We checked into a Holiday Inn near downtown Memphis. The room has two double beds and for the first time since the wedding we both choose to sleep on our own. I make a pillow donut around my body and pass out for nearly ten hours. For anyone who knows me, this is a pretty impressive feat. Jarvis is thankful that I’m not waking him up at the crack of dawn for breakfast or cuddles. I guess even the overly OCD ambitious need rest from time to time.

Late morning, we finally wake up and have breakfast and some boob tube and then take a taxi to Beale Street to check out the famous shops and bars. I’m on the hut for some Elvis memorabilia since we decided to opt out of Graceland (we drove by and realized that Elvis Disneyland was the last place we wanted to spend our day and money). After we walk the strip and do a bit of shopping, we duck into a dive for some drinks and snacks. The bartender asks me, in her cute little southern voice, “ya’ll want small er big uns?” I mistakenly respond, “big ones please,” thinking we will get more bang for our buck like when your at the airport and you can get twenty-two ounces for a dollar more than sixteen ounces. That plastic cup damn near held forty ounces of PBR and I’ll tell you drinking that much beer wasn’t the most proper way for a girl to start the day. Jarvis and I share a rack of dry-rub Memphis style ribs, and then head down the road for some live Blues.


We dip into the Blues Hall Juke Joint. The joint is old, and the air is a bit thick and sweaty. There are old photos plastered on the wall, and bits of the wall paper are worn down to expose the rotting wood beneath. There are old faded American flags and of course, the standard “No firearms permitted signs” which have been a regular occurrence since we stepped foot into the South. Our bartender there is actually from San Francisco, so we get to chat with her a bit about home. The local house band starts rockin’ the blues and the sax player blows my mind. We can’t imagine what kinds of great tunes you would hear in Memphis, considering this is just a house band jamming at four o’clock in the afternoon.

We take a taxi back to the hotel for an evening swim. I made friends with a cute little girl in the pool. We have some handstand contests and I teach her how to have a tea party like sister and I use to do. We will by taking it easy tonight in Memphis – we have a six hour drive to New Orleans in the morning, and we want to save our energy for the Bayou.

Arkansauce!

There’s a water tower that sits on the border between Texas and Arkansas which reads TEX – ARK which is why, I’m assuming, the town is called Texarkana. I’m thankful to be out of the Lone Star State and I love the name of this place….almost as much as I liked rolling through Arkadelphia down the road some sixty miles later. We stopped for gas off Interstate 30 and I realize that we “aren’t in Kansas anymore”, so to say. As I stand and pump the gas, a gentle wind swirls my long curls into my face and makes my eyes tear. There is a thunderstorm on the horizon and its blowing directly at us. Our plan is to camp for two nights on the Ouachita Lake in the Ouachita National Forest, but as we snaked down Highway 7 the torrential downpour became so intense that the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up. I was obliged that Jarvis took the wheel for this stretch, as I white knuckle gripped the oh-shit bar. We probably would have roughed it through a light rain shower; however this was some storm sent by god as a sign that we should check into a nice hotel and celebrate our one month anniversary in style. Besides, we later found out that some twenty odd people drowned at a nearby campsite last month in a flash flood. It’s always good to follow ones instincts when living on the road.

So, there we were, pulling into Hot Springs, Arkansas when we both realized that we had stumbled upon a diamond in the rough. The town holds many niches in American history, including its past as a gangster Mecca in the 1930s when it was know for hosting gambling, prostitution, bootlegging, and notorious gangsters including Al Capone, Frank Costello, Bugs Moran and Lucky Luciano. Instantly, we knew we loved this place. We checked into a room at the Arlington Hotel which sits at the end of downtown and overlooks the main strip. I can picture Al Capone, who frequented the Arlington, sitting and watching the central drag out of the front window.


I tell Jarvis that the hotel is probably haunted, and as we walk down the long, dimly lit hallways, I tease him with my “Shining” finger – “Red Rum, Red Rum”. We had a couple of drinks in the lobby, and spent the rest of the evening in the room – a night in for our anniversary.

In the morning we ordered breakfast in bed, and then went on a walk of the historic downtown area. Lined with a mix of cheesy gift shops, wax museums, dive bars, hot springs bathhouses and restaurants; this spot is packed to the brim with happy little finds. As the heat increased and the humidity started to take a toll, we decided to make our way back to the Arlington for a cold adult beverage. Five beers later, and a chat with the awesome bartender named Josh (easy enough) we decided we better put some food in our bellies before our day buzz escalated to day wasted. We crossed the street to Whole Hog BBQ – an award winning, saucy, finger-lickin-good pulled pork sandwich went down the hatch faster than one can say “please pass a napkin”. We walked up the street to Capones Ohio Club – a sweet dive bar that use to serve as a brothel house and gambling hall to thugs and mobsters back in the day.


The actual bar is a beautiful mahogany piece with inlaid mother of pearl details and maidenheads keeping watch over the Saloon. We made some local friends, and after a couple more cold ones and a shot or two of Jagermeister I’m tanked and the Arkansas accents are starting to sound really twangy and slack jawed. It’s starting to rub off on us, and Jarvis and I are throwing around works like ya’ll and thank yaw sir. Back to the room for a drunk nap.

Thunder shakes the earth, and the old windows, and wakes me out of a deep sleep. It’s about eight o’clock pm and the inebriated siesta served its purpose well. It’s time to get a second wind because we have plans to catch some live music down the street at Maxine’s. I throw on my chucks and my new hat I purchased earlier that day – “Babes, Bikes & Booze” – and we head out into the rain, which has now become a light drizzle, for a night of debauchery.

Maxine’s is a great dive bar located in the heart of downtown, and is the closest that we have found to a San Francisco dive thus far – the bartenders are a bit surly, and the PBRs come cold and cheep. The performance space is a hidden treasure and it is more than obvious that the new owners have invested mucho time and money to create a space that will no doubt draw musicians from all across the country. We are drawn to the joint to see The Psycho Devilles, a BAD ASS psychobilly posse out of Atlanta, Georgia. These boys rocked me to the bone, and their rockabilly side show act was absolutely impressive from start to finish.


A much needed, loud, fast, fiery, delight. We hang to drink some brews with the boys after the show, and it’s nice to be around some real rockers – we instantly get on like a house on fire. Check these devil boys out, I promise you won’t be disappointed.


In the morning I scraped myself out of bed and into the shower. Haven’t been this dehydrated in a while, but the hangover was worth it. We had SO much fun in Hot Springs, and we will defiantly be reuniting ourselves with this city again in the future. For now we tip our hats to the wonderful people we met in Arkansas and carry on our venture. Memphis is a few hours down the road, and I can’t wait to feel the vibe of the King.

Austin's Shitty Limits

We popped into Carlsbad Caverns on our way out of the Land of Enchantment. I failed to inform Jarvis that we had to snake down a fairly steep walkway some 750 feet before we reached the main cavern. I was worried that he would find a divorce attorney the second we stepped back on normal ground, but he didn’t. The caverns were dark and smelled dank – I didn’t really appreciate the muskiness as we made our decent. I thought it smelled like bat butt and I was slightly paranoid that I was going to get a hair full of guano at any minute. It never happened. The caverns were amazing and some kind of creepy cross between The Labyrinth, Fraggle Rock and The Never Ending Story – some sort of 80’s movie smash on LSD.



We left the caverns and decided that rather than staying in the one RV and Campground in Carlsbad (which appeared to be a murder camp on the side of the highway – something strait out of The Devils Rejects) we would get a jump on our next big stretch – Carlsbad to Austin. Little did we know that there isn’t jack shit in western Texas. What was suppose to be a “lets get into Texas and then find a place to sleep” became a three hour ordeal through the barren countryside studded with ghost towns and tumbleweeds. Each town we pass through is uncomfortable and lined with eyes – “looking, watching, judging”. For the first time on our trip I can feel a bit of racial tension and I am starting to regret getting a head start on my tan this summer. Oh well – fuck them if they can’t hang; besides, we are on our way to the dirty dirty and I’m interested to see what sort of things are in store for us.

Austin. Jarvis and I both had high expectations – we have herd throughout the years that Austin is the “new San Francisco” and that we would totally love it. ALL LIES. Don’t get me wrong, it is a great city lined with rivers, lakes, beautiful lush green parks, rolling tree covered hillsides, and TONS OF BARS….but it’s got nothing on San Francisco and the freaks that make our home homey. Not to mention ATX is filled to the brim with polo wearing jocks and college skanks – the complete package of beached blond, stripper clothes wearing, bimbos, competing to get laid each night downtown at a plethora of stupid clubs which play music that I listened to when I was in high school. I feel like if I ever lived in Austin it would be a great regression and as far as I can foresee, Jarvis and I will never plant our roots in this “Texas Pride” wearing state. Not our cup of tea….defiantly gets the “Sour” seal on our hunt to find to the sweet.

That was my rant, but in all seriousness, of course we did enjoy some aspects of our weekend in “Austin’s Shitty Limits”, as I like to say. On Friday we spent the afternoon at Barton Springs Pool – a naturally fed swimming hole that overflows into the Lady Bird Lake and snakes around the downtown cityscape. I got to watch turtles eat some bread that a lil’ boy was throwing to some ducks and walk barefoot through a grass meadow – I couldn’t remember the last time that I got to rub my feet in grass that soft. It really felt like summer.



Also, we finally got to eat some real deal Texas BBQ. We totally fattened our faces at Iron Works BBQ in Downtown Austin last night before bed. I had a BBQ brisket plate complete with pork n’ beans and potato salad and Jarvis nearly inhaled a sampler plate – beef ribs, sausage and brisket which he doused in the extra fire hot sauce. We both washed it down with an icy cold Coors Light, which after days of drinking Lone Star tall boys, tasted like “my mountains are blue deliciousness.”



It’s Sunday morning and I’m sitting in the hotel lobby restaurant waiting for my hubby to come down and have some brunch. We are leaving to Dallas today and I’m super excited to visit an old friend that I’ve known since fifth grade. We will be on our way to Little Rock, Memphis, and Nashville this week and to the New Orleans Bayou by the weekend. Tomorrow is our one month anniversary, and as of yet, we wont be filing for a divorce any time soon. Jarvis said that it already feels like a lifetime – I say, “the best lifetime ever.”

New Mexico's Candyland

We were about two steps into Carrizozo, New Mexico, about sixty miles south of Albuquerque, when I realized that we were finally stepping into the unfamiliar leg of the trip. I felt adapted to the desert from all of the time I had exhausted in the area when I was growing up, but several of our next destinations would be into unknown territories. Although the majority of our stops thus far had been original experiences for Jarvis, many of them where places my parents had taken my sister and I when we were young. As far as I could remember, I had never been blessed with the opportunity to visit Carrizozo – a tiny country town that lies in the basin of the Sacramento Mountains. The market there has very few sodas in the cold box, and those that do remain on the shelves have dated labels. The boy behind the register isn’t to impressed with us city folks, but I have to snap photos of his shop and signage anyways.

About half way to our day’s destination we run into a wall of barren beauty – we enter The Valley of Fires and as we maneuver through a dust devil and a rain storm I realize that we are completely surrounded by pahoehoe and aa lava flows that probably cooled here some thousands of years ago. Suddenly we were in a vast land of black lava rocks, and being a woman of science, as I like to say, I can’t help but to enlighten Jarvis on how the different types of formations were created. He doesn’t seem too impressed with “Monique’s 107th random geology fact.”
We pull through Cloudcroft, New Mexico and into the Lincoln National Forest. We roll down the windows and kill the air conditioning – the cool mountain air feels so refreshing after weeks in the valley. The trees smell raw and they appear the color of a Rolling Rock – bottle green. We set up our camp and packed some sandwiches for our evening outing – White Sands National Monument.
We decided to visit the dunes for sunset to try and avoid some of the UV rays that radiate the desolate land around Alamogordo, New Mexico. We pull into the park just as the sun is starting to turn the sky indigo. A few miles in you can start to see bits of white sand on the tips of the rolling brown sand and as it emerges on the side of the road it looks like bits of left over snow, or a morning frost that you find on your lawn in the fall. Suddenly, as the paved road comes to a halt, the miracle of the land comes into sight. This place, my friends, is truly a must see landscape. White dune pillows glisten with crystals in the setting sun. The vast gypsum field is forever stagnant, yet continually moving as the winds redistribute the dunes around the ecosystem. People of all ages sled down the steep slopes of the rolling hills and if not for the excruciating temperatures, one might believe they are in a winter wonderland. Jarvis and I feel like we are on the moon.
We try our hand at sledding, only we don’t have proper equipment so we attempt with a silver sun reflector from the inner windshield of the car. The ride was mediocre at best and I got sand up my shorts – not the best thing when you’re going to be camping with no shower for a few days. The sun sets in the distance, and it takes everything to pull us away from this remarkable place. I’m in love with this arid sweet spot – the sugary mountains make my mouth water and eyes tear out of excitement.
That night I slept like a baby, and had dreams about childhood and friends from my past. I know we would be leaving New Mexico in the morning. I am forever thankful for my time here.

Burque Or Bust

I can’t remember the last time that I was so excited to come home for a visit. Don’t get me wrong, I always appreciate an Albuquerque stopover, but they are always so short, sweet and scheduled that I hardly have time to really take it all in. Generally, I am flying in on a Friday afternoon to complete an extensive list of errands, visits, and parties, only to leave forty-two hours later and dive back into a pile of school books or work emails. This time felt different. As we sped down I-25 through Bernalillo, I was overtaken with a happiness about Burque that I hadn’t felt in years. As we fly past the sign “City of Albuquerque, Population 521,999,” I grow a smile on my face – it almost represents a devious smirk.

Five days in this desert void that you people call home. A tiny little snow globe of places and people that you can only find here. We took a loop of the city yesterday, so I could check out the changes, and show Jarvis some of my favorites. I made several observations….

First – Endless blocks of strip malls and storefronts line extremely long linear roads. Shops appear abandoned as their stucco paint peels from the side of the door frame and dried grasses break through and crack the asphalt parking lots. Sections of town appear cast off, neglected and ghetto, while others receive constant facelifts, influx of new restaurants, shops, street lights and park benches. Complete dichotomy.

Second – This town has a deficient number of pedestrians. There are cars everywhere. In all fairness, considering the underprovided public transportation system, the complete lack of bike lanes, and the ninety-eight degree temperatures cooking the cement lined city, it is no wonder that people opt out of alternate means of transportation. But still, WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE?!?!?

Third – New Mexico food is the best, bottom line. We ate breakfast at Layola’s on Central and Washington and my sopapilla stuffed with beans and green was orgasmic. Jarvis had an Indian taco Christmas style and we both left with overflowing bellies as we ate entirely too quickly. Additionally, shit here is fuckin’ cheep. Pardon my emphasis, but after braving the expensive lifestyle of San Francisco, it’s shocking for two of us to eat such a plethora of food for eighteen dollars and forty-two cents. We went to the grocery store the other day and bought enough food to BBQ for four hungry adults – the total was thirty-four dollars. When we left San Francisco, we filled up at a relatively cheep gas station for $3.86 a gallon…here, you pay $2.64. Ridicules……but I digress.

Forth – New Mexico breeds a very unique type of character. Hard working, family oriented, Spanish accent speaking, friendly, yet gangster, all rolled into one burrito, smothered in chile and served with a side of chicharones. So one of a kind is the human breed here, and the second I step foot into the dry red soils of this great state I feel myself starting to rekindle the distinctive personality traits.

Fifth – At the end of the day, when the sun sets on this valley town, nothing else matters aside from the magnificence that envelops this little badland town. Your sunsets are incomparable to any I have ever witnessed, your warm nights and summer breezes ease the day’s troubles, and your purple mountains majesties.

Five days in the desert void that you people call home…and I’m loving every second of it.

Rocky Mountain Way

Our time in Pagosa has been absolutely dazzling. From distant peaks, across green valleys, surrounded by pillow filled skies, there is beauty all around us and it is literally indescribable. We have seen more wildlife in the last four days than I ever have before – deer, birds, bears, lizards, coyotes, and squirrels dance around the back yard from dusk till dawn and purr through the star filled nights. The views here are stunning and each evening as the sun sets and sky turns from hot pink to deep purple I feel blessed to be here.

Sunday we visited Kips Grill and Cantina located in downtown Pagosa Springs and enjoyed a patio filled with live music, cold Coronas and the best fish and shrimp tacos that my mouth has ever encountered. Jalapeño poppers filled with smooth cream cheese, wrapped in bacon and grilled washed down with whole roasted NM green chilies makes for one ecstatic stomach. After dinner, and a slice of key lime pie, we walk down to the San Juan River and my mind is on cloud nine.

Yesterday we loaded up into dad’s big white truck and took a day trip to Piedra Falls. Snaking around dirt roads through canyons and meadows we jammed Jack Johnson and ate turkey sandos which mom packed for the journey. Gorges carved deep into the earth are lined with rivers conjoining and disconnecting again. Found in the Weminuche Wilderness Area, the largest wilderness area in Colorado, the area contains the headwaters of numerous rivers, glacial caves, granite towers and miles of trails. There are meadows and pastures for miles. Our final destination was found at the end of a mild river-side trail, and you can hear the roar of the falls before they expose themselves around the corner. We take a dip in one of the swimming pools and the frigid water is sobering.

It’s Tuesday morning and I just ate a huge plate of leftovers. For dinner last night Mamma T made a fried chicken spread that was comparable to what Grandma Rue use to make for Jarvis when he was a kiddo. Wowza. Our motivation for doing anything besides lying on the coach has just halted to a pause.

Vegas to Pagosa

As we passed through The Kaibab National Forest a light rain blessed our drive and left a wonderful scent in the air. Neither of us could remember the last time we experienced that aroma – you know, the kind of fresh and dank rain that you can smell coming on the horizon. After several days in the dry desert the lush green forest couldn’t have come sooner. We nestled into a cozy campsite next to a pasture of horses and sat around the fire drinking cold beers and taking swigs from a bottle of E&J. Vegas was buckets of fun, but as we both unwind under the stars we finally feel like we’re on vacation.

In the morning we drove to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon which was absolutely AMAZING. I visited the South Rim when I was a kiddo, but this less populated view is spectacular and the drive in is great too. I learned a Native American folk tale about how the Grand Canyon was formed – “According to an Indian legend there was a very honored and great chief who loved his wife dearly. Upon her death, his grief was so great that the gods offered to take him to visit his wife, who was in a happy land, to see that she was really contented. In exchange he was to stop mourning her loss when he returned to the land of the living. After the chief had promised this, the gods made a trail through the mountains and created the Grand Canyon. When the chief returned, the gods sent a river running over the trail so that no one could ever use it again, and this is how the Colorado River came into existence.”

The next stop on our Arizona Desert Extravaganza is Monument Valley. The drive through the desert is almost overwhelming as skyscraping rocks reach over the car and huge vast landscapes make us look incredibly small. The sun is baking the world around us and we are thankful for the air conditioning inside the car. As we wind over the Colorado River and past Lake Powell we made a spontaneous decision to skip our camping plans at the San Jose River for the night and haul ass to Colorado for some heat relief. We stop in Monument Valley Navajo Lands for a Red Bull and a cigarette. Sand storms pellet our skin with red dirt and we make friends with a couple of Natives. The monuments are amazing and their shier magnitude is utterly impressive.

I have been waiting for miles for a bathroom and as we approach the four corners I can’t wait to pee in four states at once. Little did we know that the four corners is a fenced in area that was “closed” for construction. Jarvis finds it hilarious – it was one thing that he was really looking forward to on our trip. I step one foot into New Mexico and feel at peace knowing I’m getting closer to my loves at home.

We book it to Durango and then wind through the rolling green foothills of Colorado. We pull into Pagosa just as the sun is setting over the deck in the back of the house. It was a long day of driving, but we are thankful to be home. Frozen pizza never tasted so good.

It’s Saturday evening and my parents just arrived at the house. Hanging with Mamma T while Jarvis and Dad are playing horseshoes and grilling out back. Totally happy...Couldn’t ask for more!

Vegas Baby

Holy shit Batman. Talk about a warped sense of reality. As we rolled up to valet at the Palms Place Hotel I could see the overwhelming look in Jarvis’ eyes. Nothing can describe the sensory overload one feels upon their first visit to Sin City and I keep telling him that we haven’t seen shit yet. We checked into our room and as we walked into our suite my heart drops. This place is fuckin’ immaculate. Nicer than any house I have ever seen for sure. The room has a stainless steel kitchen, a plush living room with a open fireplace and a flat screen, a beautiful bathroom equipped with a shower that offers several showerheads, the most heavenly bed I have ever felt, a HUGE and wonderful bathtub in the bedroom next to yet another flat screen, and a wrap around deck that overlooks the city. Wowza. Blessed for this hook up for sure! The first night is mellow and after the ten hour drive that bed was calling our names.

In the morning I decided to let Jarvis sleep and spent nearly an hour in that shower. There is a television in the bathroom and I watched part of the Price is Right as I chilled under the rainfall shower head. I went on a walk to check some of the hotel out and stopped by the liquor store to get some reinforcements for the room. Coors Light, smokes, orange juice and rolling papers – ya know, the usual. Get back to the room and Jarvis is in the shower. I brewed up a pitcher of mimosas and drank on in the bathtub (no water) while I painted my nails pink to match my shoes and sunglasses. By the time we left the room I was rocking a mild champagne buzz and I could already tell where this day was headed. For the next six hours we hung at the pool...and not just any ordinary pool, but the Palms Place pool which is swank and unlike any pool we have ever been to. You can find the Palms Place pool on the sixth floor of the building. There are multiple chilling options here – a six inch deep area equipped with new age artsy plastic furniture; a deeper area for full body submersion, a couch area with a fireplace, a hot tub, and of course a pool bar. A bottle of champagne, a couple of buckets of beers, two daiquiris, and a box of sushi later we are both pissed up and ready for an afternoon nap. But, despite our better judgment, we take a cab to the strip and keep the party going. It is SO hot as we walk around that we have to stop in nearly every casino and bar for a cold beer. One hundred and four degrees today in Vegas and this alcohol buzz I have been accumulating in this Disney Land for adults is dehydrating the life out of me. Several casinos later we made our way back off the strip and ended the night with a casino steak dinner.



Day two in Vegas. Just woke up and my throat is sore from binge drinking and chain smoking. I think today will be a bit more mellow. Room service and movies on the flat screen. Planning for our next destination.

The Departure

As we took our last drive through the Mission I realized how badly I needed to escape the double parked, no public bathroom, parking-ticket-ways which I have grown so accustomed to over the last several years. Don’t get me wrong – I totally dig San Francisco and all the wonderfully crazy people that it has to offer, but I had recently reached a breaking point and it seems like the right time for a self induced time-out. Three hours later we are at a truck stop somewhere along interstate five between reality and retreat – standing in the baking hot sun in the middle of the desert. Just like that we are gone and all the stresses of getting out of town just faded away. Now we were just two vagabonds chain-smoking next to a semi truck and a redneck. The Mojave Desert blessed our drive with a radiant orange sunset and it reminded me of many I had seen as a kiddo. The desert is a beautiful place and it’s comical that Jarvis just finds it creepy. Those hills totally have eyes and we were being watched the entire way. As the warm dark desert faded behind us, there were lights on the horizon. First stop on the agenda - Vegas baby.