Hey, bloggy blogsters. Been a while, huh? I mostly have been neglecting y’all because I’ve been in Arizona. We came home two days ago though, three days before we were due to arrive back home. Why?
Well, okay, it’s a long story. We drove to Flagstaff, which is a few hours from the Grand Canyon. I was really excited about finally getting to see that big crack in the earth. Our family is so... camp-y. It’s seems as if the Grand Canyon is a destination most every camper would visit sometime or other. (Side note: That last sentence just barely made sense.) Anyway, it was “raining” when we got to Flagstaff. We stopped at a gas station and realized how freakin’ cold it was for being April, and wondered why it wasn’t snowing or at least hailing. I stepped out into the “rain.” Ouch. That wasn’t rain. That was hail. Frozen ice bullets pummeling down onto us all and bouncing off the ground. How unpleasant. It was fun to catch them and then pop them into my mouth, though. They melted away as soon as they touched my tongue. As we drove through town, my mom pointed out a Starbucks and demanded we stop so she could pump caffeine into her bloodstream. As if the cold weren’t exhilarating enough.But anyway, yeah. When we got out of the car, it wasn’t hailing anymore. We stood there for a while staring dumbly out at the fluffy white bits swirling through the air. After a while, my dad breathed, “I think it’s snow.” The rest of us kept on staring. This couldn’t be. But finally, we had to admit that it was, in fact, snow. We bustled into the coffeeshop, eager to get out of the body-numbing chill of the snow-contaminated air. I have actually never seen snow fall before. So I was in shock, a little bit. Pretty hardcore, huh? Huh? Yeah. Shock. I was in shock. Yeah. My mom and I shared a latte, my sister and dad sipped hot chocolates, and we mused our situation. (Word-wrangling time! Mused our situation? Or mused over our situation?) Starbucks has Wi-Fi, so we checked the weather for the Grand Canyon. It was 27 degrees over there, and snowing hard. Later in the afternoon, we found that it was 19 degrees. We only had a tent trailer to house ourselves. There was no electricity in the campsites, so our portable heater would be useless. We would have to hike through snow during the days and possibly freeze in our sleeping bags at night. Not fun, people. Not fun a-tall. I mean, at-all. I guess I should have a space there, instead of a hyphen. I should just delete all that, but, eh. I’ll just leave it. Anyway, now I forget what I was talking about. And now, alas, I remember. We ended up busting our butts to get home, cutting the Grand Canyon from our trip completely. We turned the car around and whizzed out of the state of Arizona with a screech. We drove for the rest of the day, snow blowing around us as we high-tailed it home. Eventually, the snow ceased to bluster. Well actually, the snow didn’t stop. We just ran away from it. However, we didn’t make it all the way home. At eight o’clock PM, we still had seven hours of driving to go. It was still freezing cold, so camping was out of the question. We pulled over and spent the night at a hotel. I was bummed that we didn’t get to see the Grand Canyon, but the whole conundrum was certainly an adventure. A nice juicy, tender story for the blog. (Side note: meat is gross.)
I guess I should tell a little more about the actual trip. We hiked. All day, every day. I completely love hiking. We were constantly surrounded by huge red rocks to admire and climb. It was pretty, but every hike felt the same as the next. No waterfalls, forests, or anything of the sort. The landscape consisted of the musty dusty brownish-red of the dirt and the dull green of cacti and joshua trees. It was all right though, different.
Anyway. My room is officially in shreds. I couldn’t even have the comfort of coming home to my own bed. Getting the carpet in and all is really taking much longer than any of us had thought. Sigh. I really miss my room. I need the atmosphere of a normal bedroom around me. My sister’s is all torn up as well, and my parents’ room is buried under all the stuff that has been ejaculated from both our rooms. Anybody want to rent out a bedroom for me? I could chop it off your house and glue it to my own. That could work. Really.