The little in pink is my youngest when she was about 5 or 6. The little on the left is her best friend, Kiersten. She moved away at the end of the 3rd grade and we didn't find each other again till last year on FB. We reconnected when I received the news that Kiersten had been in a terrible car accident up in the mountains. She broke her neck and was paralyzed from the neck down. Her mom, Patty, came from Maine to be with her.

I went to a frame shop many years ago to have one of my pieces framed. I'm always hesitant when I do that because it seems a bit vain to me to frame something that many would not consider "art". I asked the framer at what point you are considered an "artist". She said when other artists recognize you as one. I was crestfallen. My artistic endeavors, while valiant, are sure to fall short of such a lofty goal.

I've been following the tiny house movement for years. This weekend, I joined 15,000 other enthusiasts (including Susie, one of our fellow Marshmallow Ranchers) in Colorado Springs for the Tiny House Jamboree. I met some pretty neat people...like Scout, who teaches women how to build their own tiny homes. Interestingly, I left with mixed feelings. There weren't many of these little lovelies displayed that I would live in, which really surprised, and dismayed, me. Part of it could have been the fact you had to stand in line for half an hour in the hot sun to get a quick 60 second look inside one so I really couldn't sit and get a feel for the space. The one that I have absolutely coveted all these years made me claustrophobic just walking in the door. The doors were extremely narrow which didn't help with that Alice in Wonderland feeling of being too large for your space. That being said, I wasn't totally put off by having one of these babies of my own. I'd just have to design it myself so that it suits me. I could see having one of these in Colorado so when I come visit, I wouldn't have to lug TOW-Wanda across the country.

Four of us went to a local tattoo parlor yesterday to fulfill our commitment to one another to get semicolon tattoos. The Semicolon Project is a faith-based initiative to raise the awareness and reduce the stigma of mental health issues. Three of us got the tattoos. One came along for moral support and to be the official photographer.

The three of us have had mental health issues. We've all had depression and anxiety. One was a cutter. One had a brother who died by suicide. One had overdosed and nearly died herself. Yet here we were, on a hot summer Friday afternoon...gathered together to permanently make a statement that says "Talk about it. It's ok to get help. You aren't evil or a bad person. You are loved. Your story isn't over." It was ironic that as we sat there getting inked up, we were listening to the verdict being read live for the sentencing phase of the Aurora shooter's trial. It was decided his life would be spared because even though he was not legally insane at the time of the shooting, he is mentally ill. Too many severely mentally ill people fall through the cracks in the system and are not given the proper mental health care. Too many people are hurting themselves by cutting or starving themselves. Too many are finding permanent solutions to temporary problems.

I hit Denver yesterday with literally just enough time to unhook my trailer and wash my face before I had to hop back in the truck with two very tired children to get to the Kelly Clarkson concert in time. You know how sometimes you have a picture in your mind of how a really great surprise is going to go down and then reality hits and it's nothing at all as you imagined? Yeah, well...I pictured the announcement. "Guess what kids? We have one more big surprise for you to polish off your FUN week with Nana. We're going to the Kelly Clarkson concert!!! Isn't that great???" I was met with a very perturbed preteen. And it's my own fault. See, her mama said not to tell the girls about the concert. But we always go to live music at the mall on Thursdays so I told the girls we were going there. Guess what? That turned out to be a lie.

I met friends for lunch yesterday. We sat on the patio overlooking the beautiful backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. Three friends. We met through Sisters on the Fly. Laughing for a couple of hours over Chinese food was just what I needed after the episode of heat exhaustion on Friday. I felt alive again. After lunch, I had an item to return so I walked across the street to the mall. I used to LOVE shopping. If shopping was an Olympic sport, I would have been on the podium. I got my degree in shopping. Downsizing and purging my life of 95% of my possessions has ruined the shopping experience for me. I pick up an item, think about where I'll put it and what I'll have to get rid of in order for it to fit, and then check the price tag. The first thing that goes through my mind is how many nights at a cool campground can that money give me and 99.9% of the time, that beautiful item goes right back on the shelf. This is distressing because my Olympian spirit is being trampled. So yesterday I decided to try a different tactic and shop for entertainment.

Yesterday was a perfect day! The girls and I took a ride through a beautiful high country meadow overlooking a lake. The sun was shining, the temps were mild, the horses were amazing creatures, and my grandchildren had a wonderful time. They thanked me and asked when we could do it again…when can we come to Steamboat again? That is the true mark of a successful adventure!

Another successful day of fun with these awesome girls! Today was the day when they found their voices with me. I've always lived at least 3 hours away from them…sometimes further. There have been times when I didn't see them for months at a time so me living on the road doesn't change things between us. It always takes a few days of us being off on our own for them to open up and start talking. And when they do, it is such fun! Their words tumble over each other as they fight to tell me everything that's going on. That's when we put down the electronics, turn off the radio, and regale each other with stories. It's a priceless time that I treasure in the months I am away from them. I may not be with them all the time, but the time we have together is epic and memorable.

A couple of nights ago, we were at dinner and Little was talking about her Papa. I told her the story about how we chose the cemetery because it was actually on a golf course. She stopped me with a stern look, hand on her hip, and asked why I hadn't taken them there yet. The girls didn't come to the cemetery for the burial because Mom and Dad were worried about the military gun salute scaring them. So, yesterday after breakfast, we went to the store and bought flowers to lay at the grave.

I've failed as a Nana. This morning over breakfast, I told my grand daughters that today my goal was to make sure they were absolutely miserable. Under no circumstances were they to have fun…at all! They laughed at silly Nana. We went to the Glenwood Adventure Park to ride the rides. The country's highest altitude roller coaster is there. This picture was taken a couple hundred yards below that coaster and look how tiny the interstate is below.