Space Museum and Drive to Silver City, NM

I was kind of done with all this "one day and then move to another place" thing, where we had stayed one day in Amarillo before leaving, then the same happened in Roswell, and then in Carlsbad, and then in Alamogordo. Our calendar was

1. Drive to our destination and get settled at a really good place

2. Do at least one thing nature related in this state of an enchantment for one day

3. Leave the place the next day, ending a two night visit, and then go to another place.

4. Repeat.

I very much wanted to stay a place for a longer time, like a week or longer. Oh yes, that would be nice. Woken up by a combination of the dog's yelping and Mom in her coughing fit, I wrote an email to Ryan. He has since then not written me yet. Which isn't too good. But back to Mom. Since the bogs of New Orleans area, she had been coughing. Despite our encouragements to go to the doctor, the great trooper didn't not heed our greatest pleadings. But even with water, pills, medicine, and cough drops, she was still sicker than an amputated soldier. I got ready as we quickly, after taking picture of a beautiful sunrise and taking the dogs out among some of the brush and cracked dirt as cracked as an old man's face, pulling out. Dad told me, while we were getting ready, that we could go to the Space Museum. I was very glad, because I liked space and stuff like that. The sunset was pretty, all the tints of red and yellow.

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So now we were done with the pushing in the electric, sewer and water. We didn't really meet anybody really nice there, just meant those people with the Airstream. Not at the R.V. park, but we did meet cool people at Hastings, and White Sands National Monument the day before, Valentine's Day. Now it was the 15th, a Wednesday. Mom was called by Hastings, actually, and they told her that they had accidentally charged her more for that book, Coke or Pepsi. Uh-oh. So Mom had to go down there and receive her money back, and that might ruin the plans of us driving away. But we could go to the Space Museum in the meantime, right? I still wanted Mom to follow us, but it didn't matter; she would come later. Ready to pull out, Mom detached the jeep from the R.V. park and helped us to get on the streets of Alamogordo. It was a nice little town, with a lot of doctor kind of stuff, because old people come out here sometimes because of the air, and Tucson is just the same. I sit up in the front, looking for a sign that said where the Space Museum was, as we repeatedly called Mom and she went down the valley to Hastings. I saw a little green sign saying the Space Museum was on our right, and we turned onto one of the roads. Almost there.

We went up a hill and there were several little red brick houses, with the Spanish architecture and those slanted roofing. Many offices for different kinds of things that old people needed, if they were going to be taken care of. Little ones, with big words. Like physcarpic care and other things. Our R.V. went up as I looked my eye on trying to find the Space Museum. There was a high school up ahead, and I wondered what it was, thinking it was the museum. It was actually like a factory or something, with little cylinders of gas. We saw up higher up this hill up against the mountain of gullies and brown material. We saw a small skyscraper with some other things by it, just by the mountain, and it was a small one but still a large building. It looked a little small to be a museum though. What was that almost as tall thing by it, with the cylinder tube and some kind of red thing holding it up? I squinted under the sun. There were also some small jets too. This had to be the Space Museum. It was high up on the hill. We drove up, engines roaring and tires struggling for the climb, as we then saw the sign, a big one, with a large parking lot to the left of it, saying the Space Museum. We decided to go to the parking lot next, the one up higher. And boy what a view.

All those small houses where the seniors stayed, all the towns and White Sands off in the distance, with also the snow capped mountains capturing everything in the foreground. It was really a great view, but it would grow greater. We parked at the parking lot, and I now saw what I thought was something by the building was in fact a rocket, a very big one, in my opinion. There was several other spacecraft there also. Leaving the generator on and stopping doing my Math that I had done on the side when driving up to the Space Museum, we got on jackets and stepped outside. Mom was still at Hastings. There was a concrete staircase that was in between the two parking lots we took up, then walking around the sign and looking at some of these bad boys that were locked up. It was a donation by many people and there was a plaque telling all of the different contributors. Some were on stilts and many were on a diagonal. There were shuttles, rockets, jets galore. It had been a long walk on the hot day. The building looked down on us, all of the glass windows and the rectangular form, medium height, with a gold rock part on the left and some stuff which I saw inside. I thought it would be one big room. I took a closer look at the rocket right there beside the building. There was a little hole looking thing to the right and behind, up against the mountain, and a small track with seat on it. What was that?

We walked in, and saw a little desk and an office to the right. There was a lady there, with a monitor showing pictures of the building behind her, like all they offer. She asked if we were doing the IMAX or just the museum? The IMAX presentation was Mt. Everest, and Dad informed her that we had already seen it and would just do the museum. She told us the very cheap price, and we smiled at like $8 dollars per person, unlike all the other expensive museums we had visited. She told us it was on the fourth floor, elevator reached, and then to just wade our way down and all the exhibits would be reachable by going along one ramp down there, accessible by both wheelchair and rocket, if we wanted to travel that way. Funny lady. Well, thanking her, Dad said that a blonde would come in and that she was with us, and tell her to meet us also on the fourth floor. She was reportedly on her way, done with the Hastings fiasco. Well, when the elevator opened it had a space ship sound that we chuckled at; they had surely had the theme going. Up, up, we soared, three levels or more, before getting to the top floor. The doors opened with the same kind of space sound. Okay, now the Space Museum had truly started.

The first thing we saw was a fairly large room, with some panels to our right and a whole board with timeline of man's first fascinations with space. Then there was an opening in the middle, going into an area where some small frames were with people's paintings or pictures, portraits is the better word. There was a glass window looking down on something. To our right was a downward slanted area, and a small balcony overlooking a ramp going down into a hallway which had a smaller ceiling, continuing down into the museum. I read a little bit about the first guys, G.G. (that guy who did the whole astronomy thing and I can't spell his name) and Corny, that Swiss dude who had the idea we revolved around the sun. Can't spell his name either. But I read a little about how the Catholic Church hated that idea, and it was contrary to their beliefs. The Catholic Church hated a lot of things. But anyway, I looked through his telescope on my left at a little table before that balcony, telling Dad to look at all the stuff and he said he had already read it. They had a Space Hall of Fame, their achievements and how they helped out, and their birth and death date. I looked at Wilbur and Orville Wright, as Rebecca and Dad sort of drifted to that glass window, through the opening. Alone.

I went through there, and there was something about the first rocket launching. Interesting, I suppose. Rebecca said she had followed Mom as she parked her jeep by the car and then as she went in, that she was on her way. I wished I had seen her microscopic size an staked -outted her, but oh well. We looked over the parking lot and space stuff, satellites and rockets and jets. Then we moved on, ever so often reading about the Hall of Famers. Charles Lindgbergh was even in there. Going on, we heard a ding and Mom coming up, and I showed her some things after welcoming her. Dad and Rebecca, after talking for a while, went down the slanted hallway. Mom and I sat on some black benches and watched a funny astronaut video where real astronauts did things with gravity in space, showing how they slept and how yoyo's go up and down, and some other things also. Very hilarious. It came out of a wide medium sized T.V. Done with that and by that balcony, we looked at replications of how man was against these rockets. One was the first into space and was cone shaped, like a cylinder grown fatter. The astronaut was almost the height of it. The next one he was like half the size. And on the next one, a real rocket, a little smaller. A funny one was an astronaut that was like an ant compared to the huge rocket. So funny. At first I didn't even see the man.

We were now done with this room, and went down the hallway and into another room. We went down a slanted ramp down with the window on our left, and I looked at that track, with some of the first African-American astronauts in pictures on my right. It was kind of cool, because the hall of fame went through the whole museum in order of... well the date in which they were brought into the hall of fame. The Hall of Fame was actually on the right sides of these hallways, which made it very literal. We entered another room with the ramp on our left, and I looked around at the pretty good panels and some other things. The room had on the left some sounds of how rockets sound. That was cool. Then it had a little alcove with computer screen, and a rectangular big interpretation of how an average room of a space ship was. I looked at all the white cabinets and all the dials, and also did the simulator. It was very hard to land a plane at LAX, I must say. Especially with all the noise and people telling you to land. The rocket sounds were both cool and sad, because one of them was the Challenger. I looked at others, and learned all the gas and everything and shuttle lengths, but all that stuff was so alien to me that I couldn't get any of it.

I mean, I'm no chemist or scientist.

I really liked this area of the museum. It was kind of sad though since Dad and Rebecca weren't here with us; they had gone further on into the museum. After another family took over the simulator, and we went out of that way by way of ramp. I had liked the museum so far; it had interesting facts and it was really cool with Mom too; because she liked the facts also. Several hands on things. I went right into an exhibition area, and there was stuff about the first cannons used in warfare and how Jules Verne had made a story about going to the moon in a cannon, inspiring later people to actually make the rocket! I read a little about Napoleon using cannons, and then about people in New Mexico(I forget their names) who evicted a whole town and made a space testing facility there. There was less people out in the West, so that's why they made all of the tests out there and that's why theirs so many more military bases out there. I guess also desert had the least life so when testing nukes, they weren't killing much plant life. The townspeople, surprisingly, weren't too mad; I mean, they were helping out mankind by losing their homes, and the nice government officials were giving them a lot of money and different homes in another place so.... why be ranting?

One dark little area was about robots, and I learned a lot of stuff in there while seeing all the different non-manned machines on the rockets, especially the different satellites who either searched for alien life or enemy missiles. It was in a black room, with many glass displays. I loved this museum. I am sorry I am not giving you the most detailed description, but my memory is only a vague one. Consequences for not catching up on the blog. Rebecca came in here this time, giving us like 30 minutes until we had to leave, because we needed to drive many miles to get to Silver City. Sigh, I thought, as I went down the ramp, leaving the robots to finish reading themselves. Every time we went down farther, the track got closer. In the next room, I found out that that track was where they tested the monkeys with the G Force, seeing if they would react well to all the speed and making your touches go back. I saw Dad on a bench, as I read some stuff and looked at the dummies they used for the nuclear testing. The actual Trinity Site, the place where the first atomic Bomb was exploded at, was not at the Space Museum but I saw a little diorama of the memorial, a good rocked brown thing with three sides, for Trinity. Hard to explain.

Dad gave me the 30 minute warning, saying we had to go to Silver City by dark, and that there were many exhibits to go. I read some things about Ham, saw some more Hall of Fame things, and we went down to another part on our right, talking about some of the exhibits we hadn't experienced together and their opinions about it. There was some videos about the X contest where they fly small and big space and flying stuff. Cool to see. There was one final exhibit, big vertical panels with papers glistened and a small balcony and then an area where there was some stuff about meteorites. This was about that and what we thought the future was like:real and fake, with all of the transportation and robots mentioned. I read some of it, and Dad was ever so often telling me how many minutes left, as Rebecca and Mom went downstairs to the Gift Shop. I saw some lunch box heroes, some laser guns and comics, also the Jetson's posters, with nice paragraphs telling all about..."10 MINUTES!" My thoughts were smeared by the ever so constant reminder. I then read about Jules Verne, who is one of my favorite authors(I read his 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) and the books he read which inspired readers in the future to make these things, and about H.G. Wells, who had a more satirical and bad outlook on life, with making society feel bad. I have read his War of the Worlds and that was okay. But it was cool to read about some of my favorite science fiction writers. I love science fiction.

Then came skyscrapers, and cartoons, robots, and transportation. They actually made a flying car prototype last year, if you'll believe it. It's just a matter of time before they become paramount to our lives. You hide and watch, like the characters in that H.G. Wells book.

Dad had left, saying to go down the elevator and come down in like twelve minutes, giving me some extra minutes. I wasn't paying attention, because I was reading the stuff in the museum. Well, I tried the stairs, but they said not to go down them and that they were alarmed. (the signs said these things.) So I called Dad. No answer, but from the window I saw him holding hands with Rebecca, going to the car. Mom was tried to reach too. No answer. Dad called me back, telling me to do the elevator as I went down the cylinder box held only by cables alone. There was a small gift shop with space stuff where Mom was. We exited together, catching up to the others and going inside the R.V. Mom drove the jeep to a place in Alamogordo where we attached and then pulled out. I read that Jim White book that I got at Carlsbad Caverns, and it was very interesting to learn the story of the first explorer, and his hard work. There was a funny chapter called "Tons of Guano", which had a double meaning. I liked the thin glossed book a lot. Well, we went over beautiful mountain passes and came down into Silver City, and I was in the front seat a lot. We went by the pine forest of Lincoln, Lincoln Forest. Something clicked in my mind.

Smoky the Bear was rescued when a forest fire ensued! So this was the legendary place? We'd read about it at another National Park, but now we were going to go to the famous place. It was red pine, and very nice as we passed by all the signs. Very cool to see. It was a beautiful place to be driving in, I thought as Dad shared stories and tidbits, me sitting in the front. It was a very good day. We arrived in the pretty big city of Silver City, which was in the Southwest of New Mexico, at an R.V. park called Rose Valley, named after the pretty valley in which Silver City rested. The office had a country feel to it, rusty farm materials and funny signs. They went in the office, Mom and Dad did, while I blogged. I never saw the inside, regrettably. We went along, and got a good spot where a little green bowl shaped area was, with a huge bush with green pines and leaves coming out. It reminded me of the thing in Twin Lakes, in Ohio, except this one was larger. We had a good night of eating in, with soup, and watching American Idol, a funny competition show we like. I don't really care who wins. Well, our day was very good, and I enjoyed all the facts in the well-laid out and totally worth it Space Museum. The day was a good one, even though I was rushed there.

The next day would bring...well how about you read the blog post and find out! ( I won't tell you anything but I will say you'll wish you do read it.)

Houston, we have a problem, over.

Houston, repeat?

Houston, are you there, over?

YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK YOUR PROBLEM IS? BEING ANNOYING!

Houston, that's not our problem.

SHUT UP! I'm trying to get some sleep!

Oh, okay. Just so you know we're rocketing against the Earth at 200 miles per hour. Goodbye.--

Andrew.

Cloudcroft and Hastings (a blog post with weird names)

Well, this blog post is a continuation of Valentine’s Day, on a Thursday. Earlier in the day we went to White Sands National Monument, and I invite you to read that blog post before this one. It’s not that you’ll be confused, it’s that it was very interesting and the pictures may suit you, and there is science and history there also. But now to the blog.

We’d already gone to some weird placed names, like Winterthur and Hagley, and La Bambaand Ulta. I think those are the names, not totally sure on the spelling. Okay, but Cloudcroft and Hastings were also weird names, I guess. Okay, so after leaving White Sands, we exited out of Alamogordo in a sand storm. I looked a little at my "Billy the Kid" book, reading the back cover and the prologue, dedication, stuff like that. I really wanted to read it, but knew that I had already read two books before finishing the Mark Twain Book, A Tramp Abroad. I needed to finish that one, and then read some others that I knew I needed to read first before this one. I was deep in thought, reading about Mark Twain's adventures up mountains and the great view, and also about one character who talked a whole lot and wound up getting a different story from Mark Twain as he asked the same questions over again. Confusing. I couldn't believe we were surrounded by desert and shrub and White Sands but, on the other hand, we saw jagged snow peaked mountains off in the distance. With our goldfish to eat and books to digest, video and still cameras on the ready, we got ready to ascend the mountain which held Cloudcroft in it's grasp.

Dirt road for a while, with steep hills and trails, mushy from last nights rain, damp from the tears of Sky. Green around us, forest and pine, brown and green collide. We hear birds off in the distance, and the chirping of all the individual ones. The winter leaves where white as snow, no, wait, they are snow! As we passed by, we saw the little flurries on top of the branches, making white skin for the brown cylinders. Or is this sand, from the White Sands perhaps. No. This was pure, real, snow, or I was asleep and also saw clowns that day. We had just been to sand dunes, and now we were basking in real snow? This made no sense. I guessed the elevation was higher up here so it was colder, but we were in New Mexico, land of the deserts! And we had just been at sand dunes and a desert. I thought it very funny that in the first part of the day we'd gone to White Sands in the desert, and now we were on a mountain road in a forest, with snow all around. It was a gigantic white blanket coming down from the sky, but in parts it was torn and tattered, and some brown dirt got on our precious white sheet. There were parts where the snow wasn't on, and brown pine cones made the air have that mountain feel.

We went up big hills, around trenches, and made our car get pretty dirty, that mixture of dirt down in the valley and then mud in the mountains. I was not in my book; the snow and forest enchanted me. We were to enter Cloudcroft, and most likely get something to eat in the famous city. Cloudcroft meant, in German, "city in the clouds". I thought of that other city in the clouds, in Star Wars V. Is it Bespin? Yeah, I think I'm right. Well, after the forest we came into a small area with brown lodges off the ground a lot and some stone buildings, a few churches and a big restaurant with an apple, but mostly little lodges and green flat long buildings. 

I was texting Mary Beth, one of my friends, telling her all about this very cool area and that it was beyond belief snowing. That restaurant was off the ground, high with some stairs, and had a huge apple on a little man's body. It was the restaurant recommended by that waiter we had met the night before. This little area was actually the famed Cloudcroft. Not so much a city as it was a few lodges and like one restaurant. We got off were a perfect patch of snow was in front of a small church, and I picked up some, right off of the damp snow, which was like the heart of a cold woman, freezing and taking over your hand, the numbness and... you can't describe it.

There were some bushes with snow on it, and a small courtyard and events board that you see by a business, and a nice cross. Rebecca and I, not in very warm clothes or even with gloves on, had a little snowball fight, throwing the clumps of white sheet and chucking them at each other. I got Rebecca in the stomach, she got my back as I turned around to reload, and I video taped some of it. It was just one of those moments. Was just one of those moments. Just one of those moments. One of those moments. Of those moments. Those moments. Moments!

It was cold though, and we returned to the car, and left the kind of disappointing Cloudcroft. I was glad we went though, because it was fun to see all our first snow on the trip, and that it was cool to see the town. But, hold on. We weren't done. There was still more to come as I took pictures of ravines and many trees, as we talked about frontier people and how hard the winters would be in a place like this, especially no Internet nor phone service, and no people around here for miles. You know, New Mexico was interesting because we saw like no large town, and all the cool stuff they have there is rather far apart. 

Well, passing by we started a game to try to find a moose, because we found none in either Maine or Vermont or New Hampshire, and so we were determined to either find it here or in the Northwest. There were enough signs telling about them. Mom, on our right side where there was a bit of an open space and another dirt road beneath us, spotted something as Rebecca looked at her side, which was just a big rock wall, fairly thick. What did she spot? Well, it was a moving something, that went over a log and up higher into the forest, going very fast on all four feet. It was thin and short, with two ears going up like a dogs, and was red and brown, with a nice tail. A fox!

It passed by, and luckily we all got to see it before it disappeared into the wood. Later we were on a swirly road with like no houses, cars, or anything except for forest around, and we went up an Indian reservation. We later took a long road out, away from the bad road that was impossible to go up. We saw some trailers along the mountain looking at the valley, which had a good view. They had their own little doctor, and a center for church, school and other activities. We saw some scary dogs. Leaving, we came back down into Alamogordo as the sun went down. It was okay in Cloudcroft, very pretty and kind of cool. We thought the city would be better, but it wasn't a city at all. I guess it's vacant in February, but it might be better in the summer months. We didn't go at that restaurant I mentioned earlier, for some reason. Maybe we just didn't want to, or the place didn't make our expertise. Well, hungry as ever, we tried to find a place to eat. We saw this Mexican Restaurant that was on the left side of the road, in a section of stores that were either out of business or had weird names, at the end by some trees. Walking in the threshold with a coffee table, we looked at this place. Surprisingly, it was all one big room with photographs and masks, other Mexican things like macraos and those big hats. Many tables took up the room. To the right, a counter with cookies and some history things, and a door to a restroom.

I went to the restroom, later talking to Mom and Dad about their worst and best dates, and also talking to Alyssa and taking apart a mystery of someone who gave her a card in the mail, and flowers. We solved the puzzlement at the end, thanks to my good deductive reasoning and investigative skills. The food proved bad though. I didn't like it very much. It shouldn't be called Mexican food. More like Americans who want to make good Mexican food, but can't do it because they just don't have it in them. Dad gave it a terrible review on TripAdviser or somewhere else, but when we payed the money up at that counter he thanked the lady for a good meal, lying like a thief. Although, I would never tell her to her face that it was a bad meal anyway. The sauce was like ketchup and the soups were bland and processed; it was all so fake. Well, after leaving Rebecca mentioned she wanted to watch some movies and get some, and Mom agreed. Dad wasn't for it at first; he wanted to try another restaurant! Even though it wasn't too good food, I was stuffed! Since it was Valentine's Day, Dad agreed to go, and we checked out this place called Hastings. The real Hastings is in England, and it was the battle in 1067 that cost one armies their lives. But this was a bookstore.

It had a big parking lot and a nice sign, with carts of books in the threshold before the bigger part. This wasn't just a bookstore. It was a media store, so it had movies, magazines, DVD's, and books. Mom wanted to buy a movie called 'To Kill A Mockingbird". We had both read the book and so wanted to see the movie. Around that day they had come up with a 50 year anniversary, and so we were going to see it on the special year. It had bonus features and everything. Dad was just there for being there, and would later go to a coffee shop in the bookstore, where he would just sit and surf his iPad. Saying goodbye to Dad, we went to find Mockingbird and some kid movies for Rebecca. I didn't really want anything; besides the RV was already full with books and I had gotten one that very day at White Sands. We walked down the left section of the store, where we saw all kinds of movies and CD's. I always love to go into bookstores or movies ones, because it is a time to say the ones you hate and the ones you love, and just to look around, without a thought in the world, among your favorite medium: books. I can't quite describe it. It's just something.

Well, Mom and Rebecca looked down a few aisles as I looked at an oldies section, with The Andy Griffith show and M.A.SH. and a host of different old stuff. A guy was at a square counter in the back of the place, with some music stuff behind him, and he was talking to this brown haired large man with a green woolen sky hat, and a tee. He was pretty young. The guy helped him, but Mom was in line before him so he went to show Mom "To Kill A Mockingbird". I didn't go with her. I noticed something about the guy. If you don't know, I love Sherlock Holmes, am very observant, and have an ear for accents. I simply said to him, "Happy Valentine's Day," as he nodded. Then I said, "I bet you like Saint Patrick's Day also."

I turned, waiting for my victim to detect what I meant at the witty remark. He took his eyes off the little CD in his hands, and said, in an Irish Accent, "You noticed me accent? Most people think it's a Scottish accent."

As he came over, I simply explained that I can't tell the difference between a Scottish or Irish, but I know accents pretty well. I asked him the difference. He told me that Scotts have more of a Brittle accent, kind of more like they needed to clear their throat. Mom returned, and said that she didn't detect any accent, and told me to show him that I both knew accent and could do a good Irish one. Kind of being shy, and awaiting the shoe to drop in the presence of an Irish man who might tell me my accent was nothing like the true people of the island, I gave them a small sample of my Irish Imitation. The man remarked with a smile and chuckle that it was the best imitation from an American of the Irish he had seen from a boy. I blushed, as he asked where we were from, and he said he thought we were from the south.

"You have a voice for accents too." Mom said. "We're from Georgia."

"Ah, well, here's my best country accent. 'Howdy, y'all!"' He actually had a very good southern accent; it was kind of amazing. Mom and him went on to talk about how their are rednecks everywhere, Mom presenting the people in Northern New York and the Irish guy mentioning that their were rednecks in the highlands of Ireland in the eastern area. Everywhere has a redneck. I liked this guy whom we were talking to. He was funny and young and smart, with many laughs shared. When I said, "What is your name, sir?" he answered,

"Me name's Ryan, and please don't call me sir. I'm not that old. I'm still young."

It was weird because on our first day in Alamogordo I had called an old lady by her first name and she had told me to say Miss, and so I was on my guard that time to say sir. It came from habit of addressing all people like that, save Linda. Oh yeah, I called you Linda, Linda. No I won't address you as Mrs. Linda. Well too bad! Sorry. Linda and I just had a ... fine, Mrs Linda and I just had an argument. Back to the blog. 

Later in the conversation I'd call him sir again, and then he'd stop the talk and say, "I told you not to call me a sir" And later with a twinkle of his eye and smile, "Hey, what did I tell you?"

Somehow Mom and him got to talking about dyslexia and Ryan said he had dyslexia also, that he was taught by nuns and they had thought that to teach him they should just practice over the same things over and over again, but Ryan said that wasn't the way that you should teach kids with disabilities of his kind. I listened and nodded in deep thought while in the corner of my eye a T.V. flashed images of Avatar on and off, and my bladder felt like it needed to go to the restroom. Well, Ryan said to Mom that I was a bright child with good books I had read as I said in reply to something about Scotland, "Oh yeah I read a Robert Louis Stevenson book about Scotland called 'Kidnapped. It was a good book." I asked him a little about Irish History and he said,

"Alrighty, now we're talking about history (and he rubbed his hands together). I should know a bit(after I said I don't want to delay you or ask you hard questions) since I am a history major. So..." and then he spoke.

And I'll never forget that precious flow of words which the Irish possess, all the perfect notes on the lips, and the music with which their words are made. I can't describe it, but you sorta feel at ease when you hear an Irish person speaking, because their flow and punctuation are like no other country's. Mom excused herself, saying to stay where she had found me, and she took Rebecca to get her selection of children's movies. Ryan said goodbye, and went on to say that the Irish were pagan before all the Catholics came in and patronized them, and it was a lush land full of milk and honey, saying it was organized into counties and that the square feet wasn't the largest, and that Irish people are stubborn, and won't just be "kicked in the as..., well excuse me for the language." He then continued that he was a Catholic, and the Christianizing of the..."well, let me first tell you that in Northern Ireland 98% is Protestant and in Southern Ireland, which is a whole lot bigger, it is 98% Catholic and the rest Protestant." I may be wrong. Forgive me if I am, Ryan. But anyway, he talked about how it was all controlled by George in England.

"Oh yeah George III who was mentioned in Kidnapped."

"Well, wait... Oh no it was George II who..."

"Oh you must be talking about Charles I, the headless guy."

Most of our conversations were like this, back and forth, dialogue, wise minds exchanging info. It was a fun time for two history buffs in a bookstore to just talk about...well, history! He told me about how the Irish priests tried to rebel against the papal rule in Rome, with what time periods that aligned with, about the time of Henry VIII with all his wives. We talked about the sad history of Ireland, a fact Ryan had said earlier, that it was always being conquered and re-conquered by someone, vikings, the British, and how now they have a terrible relationship with England but pretend to be part of the CommonWealth of Nations, and how in the 20's they rebelled from England and gained Independence. The 6 counties in the North remain under British control. I told him about a book my mom had got in December at Once and Again Books, that it was called Ireland and was about storytelling and the history of Ireland in a novel. I have since then read the wonderful book, which had stories about Saint Patrick, William of Orange and a battle with King James, and so many other things up to the rebellion. It's rich detail formed into a story about Ronan who goes after a storyteller all the time and gets his stories and others from different people, it was such a realization that Ireland was full of such rich history and great folklore.

Mom returned, and I was asking Ryan if he liked Star Wars, seeing the movie in his hand. He was also talking about the potato famine in the mid 1800's, and then Mom said that we had to go. I was very sad, for I wanted to learn more of the already known Irish History, and Ryan was a very cool guy. I wrote down my blog address to him, and then he went off in the direction of the front. He came back later and handed me his card. He worked at a Mexican Bar, as a bartender. I learned that not from the car but from earlier when I said, "You should be a history teacher" and he deflected that, saying his profession. But when I said, "Thank you sir" he simply said, "Hey, what did I tell you?" and I answered, "See ya, man, dude, guy!" and he chuckled as he said goodbye. He thought the trip was a good idea.

Well, Rebecca got "Judy Moody's Not Bummer Summer" and "Dolphin Tale" with R.V. We went into a book section at the back of the bookstore, right corner. I asked Mom about Trinity Site, a thing Ryan had talked about, saying there was a Space Museum in Alamogordo, and that site was where they launched the first atomic bomb. It would be really cool to see the memorable spot of where man became nuclear... and changed warfare forever. But we were leaving tomorrow, so the possibility of it was not very large. We tried to get Coke or Pepsi a book Rebecca had liked (it was a question book like "Half Empty or Half Full") and we were sad to find out in Dallas at the Biblical Art Museum when we saw it repeated the questions. Even though it was a girls book, I had enjoyed it. Now Rebecca wanted to get it for Sophie, and so they were helped by a person as they tried to find it among all the rows of kids books. 

I looked at Non Fictions of the Egyptians and Vampires, which were big and illustrated and had pouches with secret codes. Really cool. I fished among all the famous series', Percy Jackson, Artemis Foul, to name just a few. I went back to Dad as they finally found it, and we left.

So much Hunger Games! It's unbelievable how fast that series grew!

I'm glad we went to Hastings. The movies should be good, we thought, and it was awesome to meet Ryan. I went bed to that night, fearful of scary ladies named Linda. We watched American Idol. The next day would bring space, comets, Jules Verne, and Rose Valleys, mountain passes, and tons of guano. Also we would see a Silver City. Blog you later.

It was very nice to meet you, Ryan. Thanks for all the info.

"Top of the mornin' to ya, laddie!",

Andrew.

White Sands National Monument

Alright reader, imagine you're a rock.

A rock! I in fact am a lawyer, a librarian, your grandparents, an PGA Golf Pro all in one. I am not a rock!

Just pretend you are one, please? This is a demonstration of how White Sands was formed.

Fine, weirdo. Just don't think I'm gonna get chizzled away or something.

Actually, I was going to do just that. But first, imagine yourself as a rock. Not just any rock, gypsum. Gypsum is made of hydrated calcium sulfate. Try saying that three times fast.

What if I don't want to? Hydrated calcium sulfate Hydrated calcium sulfate! This is stupid!

Hahaha! I was just messing around. Okay, so, you are deposited at a low sea, and then this huge dome comes up and you're lifted up with it...

Wow you have a great imagination.

No it really happened! On the National Park website it says...

Yeah but were you there? Or the scientists?

No, but years and years of research and hunches...

Yeah but we don't even know if that's true. We don't know if anything is true! It's just estimation, it's all assumptions!

Seriously reader, please stop crying. You'll get your tears on your books and your newly knitted sweater, and your golf club. You have so many people who don't want tears on their stuff. Compose yourself.

Ahem... Okay then. Go on.

The dome breaks up, and then you fall into the ground. You're a white rock, pretty hard. Now, when you were deposited, it was 250 Million Years old. Then you got lifted up.

Wow this is a crazy height!

That was 70 Million Years ago. Now...

Man, I'm old!

Uh, yes. Now let me continue. So, 10 million years ago, that dome, in the center, collapsed, and you fell back down. So relatively, you're pretty young.

Pretty young! 5 years old is pretty young, not 10 million! I think you need a doctor.

Whatever. So, over years and years of wind, water, and creatures, you become sand!

That tickles, hahahahaha!

Yeah I know!

Oh I hate sand! I was at Laguana Beach once with my children, and..

No time for back stories. We have to begin the blog now. So, thank you for participating in this demonstration of how White Sands was formed. Have a nice day.

You're welcome. We should do this more often.

Back to the blog!

Hope you enjoyed that little dialogue moment. Now, when we went to White Sands, it was Valentine's Day, and so on Feb. 14th. But it was very windy too, so that made all the sands move more, swirling their white and yellow particles all around. They don't stay in the same place long. Very dynamic, they are. We went in the jeep, with my cowboy hat on. I was getting used to being on Mountain Time, where it was like two or three hours before the Eastern people. Some have continued to call us at like 6 or 5 AM, and at least we had a good start that morning. We were also going to go to Cloudcroft, or city in the clouds, because a waiter said it was a really cool place. Being it Valentine's Day, I would try to find a possible present for Mom or Dad, but I don't really think V.D. is about loving girlfriends or drama or getting presents, but it's like spreading love to everyone, and being happy and acceptable to society. In a few years it'll be that whole lovey-dovey thing. Girls have cooties at the moment. But I wanted to be really good and nice that day, and... oh and let me tell you a little history, Saint Valentine (and it's pronounced Vall-en-teen) was a really nice and loving person according to the Catholic Church, so he became the symbol of love...Wait, shouldn't the symbol of love for the Catholic CHURCH be Jesus?

My clever sister Lauren said this in recognition to Cupid, "Why did our symbol of love become a flying baby in a diaper shooting arrows at people?"

I texted some people that morning, and said that I was afraid of Cupid getting us, and said, "He's loading. Dodge it! (--->" and some other things. We got out of town, and were down a highway, with some dust flying everywhere. It was crazy and amazing, all of the dirt and dust storm, or sandstorm as it's better known. It was crazy, all of the wind in our windshield and brown dust. As we drove through, a safe distance from the real think, Dad mentioned that it always happens in New Mexico, that these people live in the midst of the terror, that it can kill people. Pretty scary. We drove up to what looked like little white sand dunes, with a lot of shrub, green, and high vegetation... for sand dunes. I was a little annoyed that the reason we were coming here was to see some sand dunes, but then again I guessed that if it was a National Park then it had to be worth something. And I had underestimated Carlsbad Caverns, and it had ended up one of the most beautiful things I had seen. But, we went through a few of the dunes, and came up to a National Par... or National Monument actually.We passed by one place on the right which said to keep going; that was just a center for activities and other things. A good way away we saw another one. I will try to describe it as best I can. It had a porch that had a roof over it, and a little parking spot, facing some of the dunes, and a big sign with side entrance on the brown wood. Hopefully it would be a good N.P. Hopefully.

Rebecca, Mom and I went in, later followed by Dad. Inside was a hallway with pictures, and mostly all of it was on the left. Entering the place, we had the counter, which was three sided square against the left wall, and some panels and sand and little coffee table on the right. It was light and looked good, and there were some people. Farther on to the left was a lot of gift shop kind of stuff, including books, and then in the middle a step up to a paneled area, presumably a museum. We asked the people what they had here, and they mentioned the mini-museum and also they had a movie, showing in not a very long amount of time. Thanking them, we looked around in the gift shop before Dad came.(He was on the phone with someone.) There were some puppets, book bags, and that vest. But this wasn't the gift shop. I supposed that as it was really small. This had children's books, and regular books. I looked at a few of these, Southwest legends and Native American things, and then some books on Billy the Kid, ruthless cowboy of cowboys. There was one on his capture, about McGarret who caught him and it was called,(and don't think I'm cussing it was quoted) "To Hell on a Fast Horse." I couldn't find any others, at that moment. (I would later.)

I told some of the people Happy Valentine's Day, as they asked us if we did the Junior Ranger Program, and we told them that we had been to so many National Parks, but regrettably no time. We had however, incidentally, done it at Carlsbad Caverns. By the way I recommend you see that post. It's pretty cool, all the stuff we saw. We didn't think we would have time. I did post a stamp onto a little post-it-note sized white piece of paper, and it had the Junior Ranger thing on it. They gave us the activities, saying that even if we didn't have time, we could send in the books and email the guy in charge. The lady later gave us the certificate anyway, looking tryingtobecasualbutsuspicious, and put a finger to her nose. We thanked her, avoiding a delivery man who raised an eyebrow. This was way later, and I will get to it later in the blog. Dad came in, and we prepared to go to the movie. We walked up there, and went into a room on the left where a projected screen was, with pictures on the wall that were really cool. We were in benches. Waiting a few minutes and looking at watches, talking of no particular thing, ever changing the conversation. Then, more people filed in, and then the show began. I blinked as the lights dimmed more.

The movie was very good, presenting great HD video, and all about the living creatures, animals, fish, and plants. It had a visual of a fox at night hunting it's prey in the midst of white sands coming up all around him, and then some plants, that, to escape the suffocation and death that all the sands coming up gives, made long branches going out or even an umbrella-looking thing, with the plant going up in a straight line, gasping for air. This is where I found out the whole info about the gypsum sand, which was pretty interesting. It was all big and really good, and I liked learning about the National Park and how it became that, FDR's part of it and all. As the movie ended, I smiled at the cool message it presented. I have to say it was better than the one in Roswell, although that one was cool, where we went underwater and saw the insects, as chills went up my spine and I laughed and giggled with Rebecca. Hey, you know close to Las Vegas there's a town called Laughlin? Seriously! I wonder why that's the name. Probably Jerry Seinfield came from there, or Robin Williams, maybe even clowns. Or Spencer Osman. Who's Spencer Osman? I'll tell you on my very last blog post, at the end of the trip. FORESHADOWING!

Leaving the dark room with our things, we ran into two people Mom had prior met at Carlsbad Caverns. It was very co-win-se-dental (I can't spell the word; If you haven't found out by now I am a poor speller) and we talked to them a little and their Missouri routes, and spoke about Hannibal, my favorite author's hometown, and St. Louis. They spoke about that terrible incident that happened a few years ago, in Joplin, MO. I recently, well, in Florida, saw a "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" where they made all these new homes and did different themes for different people, so it wasn't all boring and bland. Pretty cool. They were an older couple, the man with a hat and grey hair, and a middle-east... I mean midwest. No he wasn't from Iran or some other country. I got mixed up with people from Egypt who we met last night. Another story for another time. But the lady was older with grey and black hair, rather short and short hair at that. He worked for some kind of electric company that did things of that nature and we talked about that, looked around in the museum for but a short time, and went down to the bookstore counter, saying goodbye to those nice people.

We asked the people at the counter what there was to do, and Rebecca was thrilled to hear of sand riding, going down in a sled for the snow and feeling the great breeze. Maybe I could get Cupid's toe as he tried to shoot an arrow at me, and throw him down into the sand, blur his vision, and brake all his equipment as I knocked him out, and left him for dead. I DO NOT LIKE CUPID! He keeps trying to hook me up with a girl, and it's so annoying! I just want to be an exercising, pocket-knifing, soccer-playing, football-doing boy who isn't a teenager yet! Okay Cupid! I hoped that later in the day I wouldn't find true love. Hmmm.... I bet that's the only time anyone has said that. But anyway, they gave us a map, the whole thing, and said it wasn't THAT big, we could do this and be done with it. Well, they also mentioned to us that the sleds were in the gift shop, which was across a courtyard under a roof, that was long and narrow, like those in a car-pickup for kids scenario. So I was doubtful that the sleds would really go on sand, knowing that sand literally stuck to everything and especially in plastic. But in the video they had presented that people did it at White Sands all the time, and had shown us videos of that and other things people achieve on the sand. I still doubted.

Into the hallway, to the right, on some more, through a door, we went as fast as the elephants go, seeing the scenery, oh oh oh ! On the left of this shady concrete place was some benches which by we did not race!(okay that makes not much sense because I just said the same thing in different words. I'm gonna stop rhyming now.) Sigh of relief!(there is no written word for the exasperation when you are glad you're done with something.) Walking more, on the right we had a pretty garden. We went through the doors to a room filled with all kinds of different gift shop items, trinkets to pottery to shirts to giant staring clowns with Phaser 2's from Star Trek.(Well maybe the last one was a lie.) A counter was at the far end on the left, past all the junk. And then on our right we shuffled through little shelves and rows, and came to a long counter up against another wall, with on the farthest end where a corner was making in the architecture a t shape a freezer where Coca-Cola and other soft drinks dwelled. Dad was in deep conversation with a young lady, with blonde hair and long hair. She was nice, and spoke to Dad about politics and how she tried to have everything in the gift shop to be made in America. Good girl.

Up against her with her computer, we saw a dusty environment with a guy back there, concrete floor, and wooden shelves. He was cutting some wax, which is used to make the sand not stay to the sleds. We took some of the cubed purple things, and she told us we could rent one already used or buy a new one, which was more money. We chose old, which was rational since we would only be using this once and already we had been rough-iters' and so we knew the hard life, beauty didn't matter as long as utility reigned. The young girl told us to go to the other counter across the room, as I talked to a National Park lady. She was very nice, even though it was a short conversation. Then we went across the room to the other one, where a short tan lady told us to turn right into this kids corner, with some books and toys. It was an alcove and corner, pretty small. We got orange and brown sleds, a lot worse than the other ones. Well, it was something, right? We payed for them, and then walked back outside, through the whole complex. Would the sleds really work? I mean, really? Dad went to the car as we walked over, looking at some small beautiful cacti, and Mom and Rebecca went inside the beige building with slotted windows. It was a restroom.

We got in the car, and then traveled farther. They were the whitest sand dunes I had ever seen! I had to blink at the blinding spectacle that lay before us. As we went on, three things happened. Sand on the road got more and more frequent and bigger. The second thing was that the dunes got higher. The very third thing was on either side of us the slanting smooth things had less and less plants. I must say that although we were only looking at sand dunes, it was pretty pretty. Very smooth and so blinding and white; it looked like snow to us, even though we were in really the desert. It was crazy. They looked steeper and steeper as we rounded corners, and went around with this blinding spectacle in front of us. I never knew you could have so much fun while looking at sand dunes. I told all my friends and took pictures with my phone. It's not that it was super large ones, like Sleeping Bear Dunes in Michigan where the height was higher than ten school buses on top of each other, it was that they were whiter than angels, yes they were, whiter than ice and the Route 66 hat my Dad wears, whiter than those minivans mothers use to pick up their children, whiter than towels and rags and Jesus' robe! Well, not that bright, but pretty close.

All this time we had those round plastic but pretty big sleds in front of Rebecca and I, with the bowl part in, touching our knees. We had the wax in a separate hand. Rebecca was pleading with Mom and Dad to stop at all these steep heights; she wanted to go down the sled. I did too, but wasn't as zealous and excited about the matter as Rebecca was. Both me and Mom waited to test the reliability of these sleds on sand, even with the add of wax. We stopped on our right where a very sanded parking lot was, well just a few spots pointing to the right. Getting out, we took charge of all the sand dunes on both sides of us and then the brown walkway. Later we would find what we saw later a bit of a SHOCK. Well, we got out with jackets on and video cameras shown, sleds on the ready. Dad said that these dunes were a little too small for the sleds and we could leave them it in there. As Mom and Rebecca went on, I went back to the car to get a stick that I had gotten around the office. I opened the back and Dad asked what I was doing. "I left my stick." Dad thought I meant the trimmed, cut, glossed ones we used, the ones we got on the raft ride in Helen that are rectangular prisms, and the twisty cylinder one. But, remembering I had left the other one at the office, I took those.

We walked down, in the hot sun. It was a very good day, I guess. Kind of cloudy however. Dad and I walked along, talking about how the location would be good for a movie, and science. I found out at this moment that glass is made of sand! Never again will I trust the glass window of a skyscraper! What if it turns into sand and then propels me down to my death? Glass is made of sand? Did any body else know this? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?

There were a few panels along the way, and those plants that the video had talked about. They were miraculous, having cacti kind of things that came out of the top, or long branches trying to save life, hope against hope, from the evil sand. We looked at a panel telling about a sandpiper kind of snake, and some lizards on the next one. They were all beige and orange looking, very vile looking also. It was a rattlesnake. Another had a small lizard on it. There were many seaweed kind of sticks we saw, and some birds among all the dunes, but no other animals, especially not snakes nor lizards. I was a little glad about that.There was a shaded area, with some benches and more panels, to our right. I looked down, placing my arms palms flat on it. OUCH! It shocked me hard. What is this? I knew it was something different that I didn't knew, and asked Dad what this strange material was .METALLIC LIGHT STEEL and IRON ORE, which gave it the brown kind of feel. Well, we went under this shady part, you know very casually, not being very fast. Dad said, as I lifted up panels that had true or false on them, that we had to go. Cloudcroft was still in the picture. So I went along with him, as Rebecca and Mom came back.

We had a great view as Dad stayed back talking with Mom under the shade and I went, with my stick and Rebecca, up the steeper boardwalk. Not too steep, but upon a slant. When we got to the observation deck, boy did we have a fantastic view. We looked over all of the sand dunes, making ripples in the distance and imposing upon us a great outlook, the bright sun coming in and reflecting, and all of the flatness with the distance and something blue in the background. An ocean, lake, sea, or no, is it a mirage? Is this a dream? Something the mind has composed out of mere boredom? Some kind of combination of electric charges made by different areas of the brain by random intermarrying? Or is this spectacle in front of us real. Rebecca saw it also, and so this was part of reality. Very pretty. White Sands was worth it.

I tried to have a moment to just pause and reflect, to think about the display of God’s handiwork in front of me, but Dad called us down; time was of the essence. Sighing, I took one last look of this extraordinaire into perspective, and tried to stall as Rebecca raced down. Then, I turned, and never looked back after the first six or seven times of doing so. J We went back into the car, continually searching for a place of sled riding. “Mom, there!” Rebecca repeated a lot, in areas where it was so steep you could think of it as a white wall, some that other people were on. Mom didn’t think the N.P. wanted us to do it, and it was so close to the road that a car could come by, and, if we went into the road, the foxes that night would have some carcasses or pancakes, for a lesser word, to eat that night. I recalled in episode only last year when Woodstock Road in Roswell, Ga was frozen, and I sledded down on Kivengton’s side, which is a neighborhood, on a very sheer hill. It was so cool to walk on that busy road at will, casually and without beating heart. I don’t think I will get that chance again, being that Roswell doesn’t snow THAT much annually. Well, the memories carry on, I suppose. But back to White Sands.

We found some people on some, surrounded by big sloped Sand Dunes. There was a parking lot sanded very yellow, gold, but mostly white, made darker by the asphalt and tires I guess. These weren’t as steep as others, but had no shrub or veggies growing. Taking our already sandy sleds and taking off all good electronics, we went out. Dad and Mom followed slowly behind, but Rebecca raced up with her sled and wax. She went through the fence that separated us from it, and went up quickly. I had old grey sneakers that had touches of blue in them, and had used them for the whole trip prior, but the laces were short and torn up and the shoes were getting smaller. I hated the shoes now, but they had lasted me through many things, arches and museums and monuments and battlegrounds and all. Good shoes, but they were ready to go into a nursing home. Still, this was kind of their last dune, their last hike maybe, or hopefully anyway.(OR WOULD IT BE?) FORESHADOWING!

I went up, kind of slow. I had had sores from Carlsbad Caverns, but I would get better. Racing up at the top, we looked over Mom coming up and Dad talking to some people, probably telling them in his way he does, “You gotta see this,” or “Now, those democrats, God bless them, don’t know” or something else, waving his hand to empathize points. Good ole Dad. I waxed the bottom of the sled, as Rebecca did also, and we got ready for the monumental first sand sled ride. Would it work? This was the true test of faith for us. The sleds wouldn’t disappoint us, or not with the wax we rubbed on against the surfaces. Mom told us to sit on our knees, and lean back and then forward, and not to paddle yourself along. She got the camera as we all situated. We were about to go. Come on, sled. I said to myself. Mine was orange. And, then, we did what Mom said, and we went!

Like two or three feet. Fail! The sleds stopped in mid-track. Seriously? We paid money for that? Mom made us try again and again, waxing and going on previously made tracks. Again, going down, pretty much the same results. Wax, position, go! Fail. Mom pushed us, and we went a little more down, not much. It was a rip-off, or a stick-on, since we’re talking about sand. I did get down a little one time, and it was kind of fun. My shoes got really sandy, and I fell straight off on account of the wind. Then, it happened.

I was gone head over, and then got up from my back. Sand rushed into my face like the ripping of magazine power from bullets, damaging my eyesight. I put the thing in front of me, as huge gusts of wind came in, hitting me with the impact of metal poles. I had earlier pretended to guard Cupid’s arrows with my sled as a shield, but this was much worse than imaginary babies with wings and diapers. It hit all me, and I went back on my butt. Rebecca ran to the car, and I tried to, but then it came from that way and knocked me in the head, and frisbied itself away, up. I crawled on my hands and knees, not unlike Velma in Scooby-Doo where she loses her glasses in like every episode. I hope you have seen the show; it’s like my favorite cartoon. I crawled up, feeling plastic and warm swirling beach sand around me, as I dug my claws…I mean hands; if you looked at my finger nails you would suppose them claws.(Maybe I should star as Cat Woman in Bat Man.) I got the frisbie, and through my squinting eyes thought I saw Yogi Bear in the distance. Okay, a lot of mentioning of cartoons in this paragraph.

I got down, bit by bit, and knocked off all my sand after, although not going too far on the sled, having a good time. I was sanded thoroughly. Maps came out of the R.V. as I put the sled in the very back. Taking off my shoes and kicking them and then putting them in a zip-lock bag, I chased after one as it danced in the wind, finally catching hold of it and going back. We traveled back to the National Monument center to take the sleds back, and told them in a lying way that it was really fun. It was okay though, don’t get me wrong, and I’m glad we did it so we wouldn’t have regrets about it later, but I must mention that sand and sled don’t make very fast. Okay enough if you’re writing a Latin political outlook book like “The Prince” or another boring book, but if you intend on having super fun than go to a waterpark or a ride in this R.V. (you should see us going up and down these roads I mean… WOAH AHHH DANG WHY ME?)

They took them as I asked Mom for some money; I was very interested in this Billy the Kid deal, didn’t know anything about his life, and wanted a book. The last book I had gotten was at Carlsbad Caverns, so I was on thin water of how many books I was able to get. Thanking her, I took the money and entered in there. Now I saw two more in there, and a blonde haired middle aged lady with hair coming down on both sides, a touch of grey and very buff, was at the counter. I asked her if she had read any of the books. She answered a call, and then went over, saying that she liked one, with a grey title and a weird picture, but the other one was not boring, very novel-like, and all around good. I thanked her, and made my decision. To Hell on a Fast Horse was a double bio, and I didn’t like that, and the other one’s title was weird. It kind of scared me. Using a kind of, “I-just-know-this-one-is-right” decision, I picked that one as Mom and Rebecca entered. She said if I was interested in Native Americans that they had a good selection of them also, mentioning a certain female writer’s name that I can’t pronounce the name.

I must admit I’m not really interested in Native Americans. Not to be mean or anything, but I studied literally a whole year on them in third grade, and most of the stuff I read about them takes a bias stand, speaking all about the different religions. Nobody get offended if you are a Native American, but I just don’t like to learn about them that much. I told her this, but not all, just that I wasn’t interested. After buying the sandy colored book that I can’t quite describe, I thanked her for all the info and asked her her name. Judy, I was told as I shook her hard and sandpapery hand. Nice lady though. Thank you Judy!

I guess they have to have rough hands, sandpapery. They ARE workers at White Sands.

The White Sands National Monument was very fun, even though it was all science and nature and that wasn’t really my genre. I loved the movie and getting the Junior Ranger books from the Park Ranger was good, and that was very nice of her. The gift shop was impressive and I’m glad we did sled, even though it wasn’t the best. The White Sands were both shocking and amazing, and walking down the boardwalk with the great view at the end was very much worth it. Even a sand dune can be beautiful in the eyes of man. That’s what White Sands taught me.

Okay so this blog post is already very long, and I have another two things we did in that full day, so I am going to have a separate blog post about them. Do not feel you have to read them; there is no relation between White Sands plants, nature and science, and the other’s blog post. It is about a town in the clouds with coldness and forest all around, and a bookstore where we met an interesting character who was really…uh interesting, if I don’t want to give anything away. If you happened to be interested, please read it and give it a try. If you’re curious like me, you will read them. Or if you’re interested in history and forest wildlife, and another kind of white thing that followed the White Sands, that we saw up higher. Don’t feel obligated, but if I were you, I would take a look. Goodbye for now.

CUPID, GO AWAY YOU WRETCHED LITTLE BRAT! Stop annoying people who don’t want love right now with your match-making. Nobody wants you here. No, don’t cry! Cupid!,

Andrew.