It was the spring of 1996. Tom and I took a creativity class together based on Julia Cameron’s book, “The Artist’s Way”. Not only did we develop a writing habit, but we also made our first dream boards, learned a basic sun salutation practice, and played around with dying fabric.
Not only did we expand our repertoire of self-discovery tools, but we also met some creative and adventurous people. Dave and Paul were two young men in our class. They had wanderlust and brought up the idea of a road trip to Graceland. Continue reading
One of my favorite trips with my husband Michael was our trip to Galax, Virginia for his brother Rodger’s funeral. I had heard so many stories about Galax, Virginia, Michael and Rodger’s dad Price Goodson and about the land they call Goodson’s Mountain. I always thought it was an exaggeration, but it turned out to be as true as the stories.
Every summer, our whole family gets together for two weeks at the family cottage in Door County. When Michael, Matt, and I lived in Colorado, this trip home was a hike.
It was the end of our Norway excursion. The one place my sister-in-law wanted to see was 
I don’t tend to do many dangerous things, but when prompted to write about a dangerous situation that I survived, what came to mind was driving in Ireland.
Some of my greatest adventures in life have been traveling with my sister, Sandy. She hates to be bothered by maps, instructions, or directions.
For some reason, I seem to be at the basis for all the Sidetracked Sisters’ memories of getting lost. Imagine that? One of my many experiences of getting lost was a complete cluster. 
I pride myself on being great with directions. I can’t recall a single time I’ve been lost when I’m driving. (Now if Mom is driving – that’s an entirely different story). Even as a kid, I’ve always paid attention to things as we were traveling from one place to another.
