Time is an allusion, meal times doubly so.

It was already dark when, my roommates and I, left our dreary desertous city of Tempe. We were all packed into my favorite ginger friends blue VDub. The trip was mostly silent as all except the driver dozed in and out of sleep and the erratic giggles escaping from my lips as I read Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal life. At sun rise we reached the cool windy beaches of California. We took pictures, put our feet in the sand, and collected treasures on the shore. I myself was drawn to 4 pieces of beach glass bedazzling the sand, that now bedazzle a pocket in my duffle bag. We meandered around the city waiting for our couchsurfing friends to invite us in their home. We stopped at Color Me Mine where I interviewed for my dream job. I owned the interview and landed the job like an Olympic gymnast lands a beam routine. Then we napped in the car across from a park where hobos were also napping. Then the call finally came. We anxiously waited outside Old Blue the VDub for our new friend to greet us in the driveway. Standing tall, with wild dirty blond hair, and a beer belly Homer Simpson would be proud of stood Austin and greeted us with a, "whats goin down guys, welcome" The house was historic and welcoming, and once roofed celebrities like Elizabeth Taylor and Val Kilmer. You could hear the age and experience of the walls;The sound of ghosts that threatened to violate us in our sleep. Our 3 day tour was mostly business, but there was still time for killing nazi zombies, and drinking celebrities in the form of cold creamy milky & chocolatey goodness. 2 of 4 have jobs, only 2 more to go. Back to the land of AZ we drove in record time, recooped, and the next hot and blistering morning, we again escaped the heat and headed to a cabin in Rosecreek. The weekend was full of eating, eating, some hiking, and more eating. Buffalo meat was on the menu for most meals, which reaked havoc and cursed us coming out the other end. We laughed so hard sometimes that one of us peed their pants. The best was our dear friend Moorley, a wanna be cowboy with an untrained horse Buckshot a.k.a. Stampy. His coined phrase, "oh ya, Grandma" kept us rolling. Our little retreat in the out doors also led us to refreshing pools of water connected by rock slides made by mother earth. A magical oasis that reminded me of my childhood. The week ended abruptly back in the sweltering concrete city. It was the most surreal experience of my life. I had lost track of days, and time, and reality. The week seemed like months past. Now theres only life...real life.