We're in Arizona, the Grand Canyon State. It's a great place. Head north, and we can go skiing (Not me; I fall down go boom). Head east, and we can explore the desert (definitely me. I jump on quad look for old cabins and deserted mines). Head south, and there's a different country (I've only done this once. It was humbling. I remember attending a church in a border town where I sat on seats that had once been the backseats in car. The baptistry was a tub) . Head west, and soon you'll have the ocean (I've decided I want to live by the ocean for a year and then head back to Phoenix. I also want to live in Manhatten for a year and then head back to Phoenix).
We get lots of visitors from both sides of the family. Yes, they all want to go to the Grand Canyon. But, what should a romance writer do with last minute visitors and only a few days prep? I say, go see Elvis! Yup, we took our latest visitors to see Elvis. He's still doing well, by the way. He's really before my time, but I'm just as excited as the rest of the family. Namely the parental units who really remember him. He did about four songs and then threw his scarf into the crowd. I didn't catch it. They did a trivia thing afterwards, and I was the only one in the audience who knew that Elvis's only Grammy was for a hymn. Elvis once said he knew the words to every religious song ever written. My husband is amazed by how many church songs I know.
Elvis was followed by Reba McIntire. I'm a country music fan, so I really enjoy this. Charlie Daniels came next. Followed by the Four Tops.
I sang all the way home.
Yup, even a little gospel.
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