Richelle, a brilliant woman in my life, once told me a theory about life as juggling balls.

You have all these balls you, finances, social and political responsibility, hobbies, health, family & friends. All the balls are important, she would say, but the family and friend juggling ball is made of glass. You can lower it... but you cannot drop it. I guess that would be because it would shatter. Perched in my motel room in Boulder City, Nevada on the eve of another long stretch of work, I am contemplating these balls. Maybe I haven't dropped them. But they are low.

So as I reach out briefly to people who I have been on the cusp of contacting it is hard because I hardly have time to do my laundry. I need time, and the patience of all the wonderful people in my life (faithful reader, you are being buttered up) as I put my nose down to the grindstone and continue to work.

The California Coast ride was every bit as wonderful as I remember, besides the novelty of sleeping on the inside floor of a budget rental truck has worn a little thin on me. Sometimes I would ask myself, awake at 3am, listening to the waves, searching for my toque in the darkness wondering why I like what I do. But then I drive to Big Sur and watch the ocean crash into the sides of the cliffs and I understand.

From California, finishing in Hermosa Beach with an epic night out on the town and a $28 manicure and pedicure I then drove to Las Vegas en route to Salt Lake City (with a co-worker). We snuck in Rev (Cirque du Soliel show) and more than our fair share of $0.99 margaritas. I learned how to play roulette. We drove to SLC and I worked in the warehouse begrudgingly for four days before driving back to Las Vegas, unloading work stuff and prepping for a back to back set of trips in Death Valley. Leading me to very much look forward to my next day off, October 28th.

So I lower the balls precariously. But at least I am still juggling...

until next time.

Holly, circus juggler.