Land of Enchantment

Well, it's been a whirlwind week, as our weekend excursion to New Mexico turned into nearly a full week in the self-proclaimed (if we're going by license plate slogans, which makes Wisconsin the "Dairy State" and Missouri the "Show Me" state, whatever that means) "Land of Enchantment."

I guess we were sufficiently enchanted, as we kind of decided we'd like to live there someday.  Like, someday soon. Like, within the next few months soon.

Perhaps the Winter of Neverending Snow and Icy Rain is what put us over the edge.  And I don't know if this was intentional on Mother Nature's part, but these chunks of rain/snow that have been glopping up the entire Denver metro area since last night are really making the decision a no-brainer.

Also, did you know that on the long drive down Interstate 25, you are surrounded on three sides by mountains?  It's like being on a peninsula of awesomeness.  Some of the mountains are snow-capped, some rolling pink dotted with coniferous trees (hence the name Sandias, because when the sun sets they glow and glisten and the trees look like watermelon seeds), some just amazing plateaus shaped into statues by the wind.

And don't get me started on the food.  Sure, you have to give up things like good sushi and Maryland crabcakes and let's not forget Wisconsin's legendary cheese, but what's better than green chili on eggs with perfectly fried tortillas?  Honestly, I could eat that stuff 24/7.

The only downside is that you are literally in the middle of nowhere.  Sure, you're about seven driving hours to Las Vegas (Nevada, that is - New Mexico has its own Las Vegas, but don't hold your breath for anything resembling the Cirque de Soleil), seven hours to Phoenix, and seven hours to Denver, but I will miss that drive through the not-quite-gentrifying neighborhoods of DC that takes you up to NYC in, well, a New York Minute (without traffic, of course, and not counting the parking lot that is usually the Lincoln tunnel).  And I will miss greenery.  The desert has its own beauty, that of sunrises and sunsets and stars that go all the way to the ground, but a cactus can only inspire so much interest before I'm just dying to see something flowering so much that it gives you allergies.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure that this little town called Springer is going to be the set for the next Stephen King novel.  In our excitement over the first exit with "services" for hundreds of miles, we passed three gas stations before we found one that wasn't abandoned in the 1950s, and left with only a bag of Doritos and one less diaper.  We did see a sign on the way out of town, however, that said this:   "Do not pick up hitchhikers in this area.  Sponsored by the Springer Department of Correctional Facilities."

Land of Enchantment, here we come.