All right, so I dropped out of the blogosphere for a few days.  And why?  Well, I’ll tell you.  It’s because I have clearly become my mother, a person who says shit like, “I just can’t figure out how to post to my blog from my iPhone” when the truth is that I’m too freakin’ lazy and intimidated to even take a stab at it.   Also, I’m turning 47 next week and that, apparently, means that I now have to put on my reading glasses to SEE my iPhone.  And that, my friends, sucks.  *sigh*  Anyway, what follows is an abbreviated version of what I fantasized about posting from my phone over Memorial Day Weekend…

My husband and I went to Vegas for this long, crazy weekend with six or so of our besties, stopping first in the desert to bring our son to stay with my mother-in-law who now lives, thankfully, in Palm Springs where she graciously entertains our high-speed 1st grader when we want to go be grownups for a few days.  The drive to the desert was caffeine-fueled and music-filled, but otherwise completely uneventful.

Carsick, schmar-sick ... this kid doesn't care. He just wants to READ!

We took the mother-in-law out to dinner where the boy pulled a double-barrelled sippy-cup. I did something similar with margaritas by the pool in Vegas the next day...

The trip from LA to Palm Springs is conducted on freeways eleventy-zillion lanes wide which enable us to drive at maximum warp, meaning that the drive time that our GPS estimates ends up being, shall we say, a quaint notion which we easily beat.  The drive from Palm Springs to Las Vegas, however, finds us mostly on a little two-laned thing that all the old rock-and-roll songs call Route 66.  Criss-crossed with railroad tracks, beaten down little ghost towns, a military base, the Mojave National Preserve, a defunct volcano, salt flats so broad they look like fields of snow and a considerable amount of roadkill, it’s anyone’s guess how long it takes to get from point A to point B.   Behold, Route 66:

Four hours worth. YAWN!

Amboy, California ... what used to be a fabulous "shoe tree" now a humiliated stump covered with all manner of footwear. Who knew shoes could kill?

By comparison, here's what the tree looked like in 2007 ...

A sad shadow near the "shoe stump," a new "sock bush."

Guardian of a public restroom.

Apparently, America still depends on railroads to move its shit around. We waited for A LOT of these to pass by. Some even had hobos on them!

The drive took four hours and twenty minutes which was somewhat more than the GPS thought it should take.  But until we can program in the variables of shoe trees and big horn sheep and trains (with or without hobos) and roadkill, we’ll just have to keep winging it.  And besides, once you get to Vegas, who cares how long it took to get there?

Vegas, baby!

Next weekend, we’re road-tripping to San Francisco and, with God as my witness, I’ll be posting from my iPhone along the way!  It’s a promise!