Red Room Where the Writers Are

it was as if we were driving into the raining clouds, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the shooting, heavy drops of heavenly water.

My newest Red Diaper Dharma column is up at Literary Mama.

Home! No traffic between Salinas and Oakland, the dogs have stopped leaping and wagging, the sister-in-law/dogsitter is gone

When you're heading out on the road, filled with optimism and nerves and adventure, everything seems fresh and shiny.

Today we drove through thick gray smog from Banning to Los Angeles.

It's noisy here next to Interstate 10 in room 207 of the Banning, California Travelodge. On top of the freeway noise, we hear the sound of the trains whooooing and chugging.

We're having a hard time out here, Folks. Less than a week on the road, and we two Bay Area foodies have shown our wimp colors, we've keeled over, and we're tenderly crying for broccoli.

Out the door of the Rodeway Motel at 7:00 a.m. It's an hour's drive through high pine plateau to the Grand Canyon. It's cooler today, here -- only 80 degrees at 8:00.

Hot, hot, hot. It's 116 degrees just after we cross the Hoover Dam.