Oklahoma in a Nutshell

Oklahoma doesn’t have the best reputation; it’s renowned for being frigid in the winter and sweltering hot in the summer, and when the temperature isn’t going to kill you the tornadoes might. All the same, it was a gaping white hole on our sticker map of visited states, and we had to fill it while we had the chance on our way to the Nomadic Homeschoolers Halloween Meetup in Kentucky.

After a few days in Texas (which is fairly nice, very interesting, remarkably smelly, and really quite windy), we drove on to Oklahoma, complete with unsettlingly flat lands and an enormous sun rising just ahead. There was nothing particular to interest me on the drive to Oklahoma City, so I settled down with a book and tried not to get car sick until we arrived. Finally we rolled into the outskirts of the state’s capital, and parked outside the Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum.

Gordon and I looked at a few galleries, then split off to check out the rodeo segment. On the way there we were sidetracked by a room full of cowboy history and techniques, and entertained ourselves by reading plaques rich in detail and examining old-fashioned barbed wire and branding irons. After we had discovered all that there was to find there, we moved on to the film area. There was a small theatre were Gordon and I watched a fascinating movie about the history of westerns, and a collection of John-Wayne-related items, including several guns of his, mostly gifts. We tried a “guess the TV show” game in which you had to pick out the show that matched a playing theme song, and also attempted to name the horses of famous movie cowboys. I did pitifully.

We finally made our way to several rooms filled with information about the rodeo business, both in the early days and now. There were videos of different events, accompanied by details. For example, you could watch bits of a calf roping competition, and every so often there would be a little box on the screen saying “The damages suffered in this event make up 8% of all rodeo-induced injuries,” or “Rope around the calf’s ankles must hold for six seconds to be considered ‘tied.’” Finally, Gordon got bored of all this and, though I was still interested, he dragged me off to the next place.
Next we examined Indian clothing, including beaded shoes and belts, roughly woven dresses, animal skin outfits, and feathered headdresses. Traditional cowboy wear was in the next room, so we looked at that, too. In an art gallery off the main hall we met up with Mom, who wanted to see the rodeo stuff we had just been looking at; we led her away, starting to shiver in the highly air-conditioned building.

The last attraction was outside: a horse graveyard. Several famous bucking broncos whom Gordon and I had read about inside were buried underneath the path, with tombstones bearing inscriptions about their lives. Five Minutes ‘Till Midnight was there, along side Midnight and Tornado, all famous broncos in their days. Each of these horses had strived to never let a man stay on them for eight seconds, and Tornado was only ever beaten once, just before his retirement. It was a beautiful courtyard garden, with streams and large, exotic flowers around every bend. After we had finished there, Mom dropped into the gift shop to find a book, Dad looked into one last gallery, and Gordon and I read outside in the shade, before setting off again on our trip to Kentucky. 

P.S. Sorry there are no pictures. I couldn’t take any, as museums usually don’t allow it.

Backpacking at Pleasant Creek

What? Another backpacking trip? If you don’t remember, my last one was around Fish Lake (read that HERE). I told all about our experiences, fire making, our shelter, and our hike. But what I didn’t say was that that was a test, a sort of what-did-we-forget, let’s-do-this-different-next-time test. Because we had plans to make another visit to the wonderful world of lugging things up a trail.
           Alice and Ellen are some of my dearest friends. We met six years ago, and were incredibly close, but we didn’t see each other much after I left across the country. When we came back to Utah about a year after the start of this great adventure, visiting this wonderful family was one of the first things we did. We’ve been seeing each other a lot while we’re in the same state for once, but it’s the intention to get on the road again at the end of September. This called for a last epic meetup.

Packing and making up ridiculous trail names.
Packing and making up ridiculous trail names.

         The plan was simple: we would be hiking along Pleasant Creek, taking two days to do it. Mrs. Jolly, Alice, and Ellen met us at our RV Park at 11:00 to pack and rearrange, and then we ate lunch and headed out.
         We didn’t have to wait to reach the trail to find an adventure. Not even ten minutes after we’d left, we were headed home again. Us girls had been swinging over the creek on the town rope swing (reason #1 that Torrey is awesome), and Ellen’s hand had slipped. Well, okay, it was a little more dramatic than that. The truth is, she didn’t quite have a hold on the homemade handle hanging from tree above. And then she slipped off the bridge, holding on with only one hand, sliding slowly to the bottom of the smooth stick. And…. sploosh! Alice successfully retrieved the waterlogged hat floating down the stream, and luckily Ellen was only wet to the waist. But still, you know, totally soaked. Torrey is really only two miles across, and so it wasn’t exactly a long drive to reach Wonderland RV Park, where she changed clothes and we started again on our adventure.

The moment before the fall… You can’t see the creek at all, but it’s there, I promise.

This time we arrived at our trailhead without incident. There was a group of people on horseback about to start out and I, personally, wanted to “borrow” a horse to carry our packs for us. But, of course, this would have been very difficult, and so we backpacked the traditional way.
         We had lots of fun on our hike. Alice, Ellen, and Mrs. Jolly entertained us with songs (they all have amazing voices), while we found our way along the river path. Sometimes, when we got too hot, we would shed our packs to take a break in the cool water. Truly entertaining were the stories the three of us came up with. There was the tale of Cacti, an evil prickly pear who attacked people when they made fun of his purple spikes, the adventures of two Olympian rocks, and many more. They kept our spirits up while we hiked, giving us almost as much energy as the thick strips of beef jerky that accompanied them.


       Soon we were almost to the end of our trail. Two days we’d walked, sung, told stories, and laughed, and now the adventure was coming to a close. In fact, we were even now on a dirt road where we were often passed by Jeeps. Trying to keep our motivation up in the suffocating heat, Alice, Ellen, and I told a story in which everything had to be refreshing. The general plot was simple: a boy wanted to be able to be a fish and not be a fish at will. Each of us, when it was our turn to add a bit, described in detail the cool flavor of mint ice cream, a tall glass of frosty lemonade, or the chilling effects of ocean water. We called each other forward when we started to lag behind, and we gulped down long draughts of water. But all the same, we were soon asking “how much longer?” Mom said that we would see a gravel road. That would be our sign that we were practically there. All five of us were looking out now, and after a while us girls were exclaiming hopes.
         “I think I saw some dust fly up there!”
“There’s a road sign, look!”
         “I swear I hear cars!”
         And then finally I glanced up and saw, in a dip between the hills, the flash of a bright red vehicle, moving at highway speeds. I quickly related this to the girls. As we were far more motivated, the pace picked up, and it wasn’t long before a gray gravel road was indeed in sight. It was our most important mile-stone, and we were all quite ready to reach it.
         “Ten…” Alice started counting down, even though we were at least twenty seconds away.
“Nine…” This time Ellen and I had joined her, and we all sped up a little.
         “Eight…” We were far louder now.
“Seven…” We quickened again.
“Six…” I started to run.
         “Five…” So did the others.
“Four…” We were dashing as fast as we could go.
“Three…” My backpack was clanging.
“Two…” We didn’t think we could go any faster, but we did.                      “One…” Our destination was right in front of us.
“Zero!” We gasped the last number, standing at the very edge of the road. We were looking out at a great expanse exactly like the one on the other side of the gravel. Completely deserted, void, and, worst of all, without our vehicle.

         We walked on. And on. It really wasn’t far, but I kept expecting to see the yellow Jeep around every corner. And then Mom told us to go to a tree, a huge tree on the side of the road that cast shade for yards around it. We were to wait there, she said. Then she took off her backpack and ran down the road, going to get the car.
         We rested in the shade, and before long a cool breeze began to blow. We dumped our packs off our shoulders and sat on them, resting after quite a day. Soon Mom arrived in the Jeep, waving and honking her horn. Alice got it on video. We took a few success pictures, and then drove home exhausted, to get ice cream.
         It was cool and good in my mouth, and I licked away the strawberry while the others talked. It was a wonderful adventure, everyone agreed. A wonderful adventure…


Header Picture: Left to right, Mom, Ellen, me, Alice, Mrs. Jolly. Photo credit: someone in a horse riding group who we met at the trailhead.

Backpacking Around Fish Lake

I sit down at my computer, trying to put 101 mosquito bites out of my mind for now. I have a post to write, I remind myself, and no time to delay: I’d better get it down on paper while my memories, and those bites, are fresh. But how did I come to have so many bug bites and memories to write down?

It all started with an idea, like most adventures. It was simple enough: Mom and I were going to backpack around Fish Lake, Utah. It was, allegedly, an eleven mile hike, and we planned to take two days for it. We would hike up to the summit, set up camp and spend the night, and then we would head down the mountain again and around to the car.


We reached the lake at about 1:00, and started up with a pre-hike paddle. Kind of ridiculous, really, but we  kayaked for an hour. It was a good warm up. Then we tied the kayaks back on top of the Jeep and put on our backpacks. It was time to get going.

At first, my backpack felt a bit strange. I wasn’t used to carrying something this heavy, and it cut into my legs and shoulders a bit, but I ignored the discomfort and it soon passed. After a short while we had gotten around the edge of the lake and we were on the other side, but we hadn’t yet started the assent. We needed to stop, however, because we were already getting eaten by mosquitoes. We put on leggings and long-sleeve shirts to protect ourselves, and then got back on the trail.


The hike was fairly steep once we started up the mountain, but we were fresh and energetic, and we got up easily with the help of trail mix. I was, at the time, practicing for a Radio Drama, in which I was doing sound effects, and so I passed the time by practicing. Mostly, it was frog noises. Angry frog, encouraged frog, hungry frog, offended frog… the list went on, and I had to come up with a sound for each. As Mom and I walked up the trail, I discovered and perfected each noise, with her help.

A couple of hours before sunset we had arrived at the peak, and it was time to start looking for a campsite. Ideally, it would be a fair-sized clearing amidst the quakie (also called aspen) trees, close to the trail and with plenty of wood at hand for a fire. After a while of “That one’s good,” and “But maybe there’s a better one just ahead,” we found a site that was indisputably perfect. It was even near a nice overlook from which we could see over the whole lake. We took off our packs and I started clearing up the site, gathering kindling and bigger bits of fire wood, while Mom made our tarp tent in the trees. When camp was all ready we made a fire. Mom had brought a lighter, but we made the kindling up in a sort of “nest,” as is the primitive way. While tending the fire we started on our dinner, eating pineapple out of cans. Once we had finished, the cans were our pots to cook soup, which was eaten with beef jerky. Mom had brought a book on constellations, which I read while we ate. After dinner, we crawled into our sleeping bags, on our ground pads, under our tarp tent, and fell quickly asleep.

The next day we woke early and had a breakfast of tea and sandwiches, before clearing up camp. We were back on the trail by nine o’clock, and I was terribly sore. The places where my pack rubbed on my legs and shoulders were bruised, and it took quite a while to get used to. Our first hour or so of walking was uneventful and quiet, until Mom found a raspberry bush. We picked berries for a minute, and then got going again, but it wasn’t long before a second patch came up. It was absolutely huge, and after a minute we had the sense to take off our packs. With mine on, every time I leaned over to get a particularly juicy berry I nearly toppled over. After several minutes of raspberry picking, however, Mom remarked that it was like the Land of the Lotus Eaters. You couldn’t leave, you simply couldn’t, but the paradise was guarded by monsters… er, mosquitoes. Same thing. Finally, we hoisted our packs on our backs and got going again.

Picking raspberries.

We headed on until two o’clock, by which time Mom and I both felt we ought to have reached the end of our journey. We had walked at least five miles since the morning, and that was what we had estimated was left. Had we really covered such a small distance yesterday? There was a bridge just ahead that lead over the creek at the end of Fish Lake and connected the lake to a bay about a mile north. We would stop for lunch in a trail-head parking lot near the river.
We ate sandwiches and, since our water was running low, made a fire and boiled some river water for tea. I made three trips across a trail to the creek to get water, but all in vain. For when I finally sat down  with my lunch, I spilled my tea all over my leggings. I drank the remaining half a cup and changed into shorts, but my legs were much more susceptible to mosquito bites after that.

The last several miles were draining. It was threatening to rain, and Mom was on the lookout for a patch of quakies to set up a temporary camp in. She was even up for hitchhiking  the rest of the way, but I wouldn’t hear of it.  We had come at least eleven miles, I wasn’t going to give in at the end! After a while, lightning flashed. In Southern Utah, lightning is no laughing matter. Everyone in Wayne County has a story about someone they know being struck, or almost struck. So we headed for the quakies (which, though trees, are great protection, because they’re so much shorter than the others around them), and made a hasty shelter. Pushing under our backpacks, we sat under the tarp until the storm passed over. It never got really bad, but it poured pretty hard, and better safe than sorry!



After the storm we started up again. It didn’t take long to reach a marina store, where we got sodas to give us a bit of fresh energy, and then we lost the trail several times and followed the water instead. Eventually we made it back to our path, and found we were so close to the car, but yet so, so far away! Mom began a song about “The trail that never ends,” and we were kept occupied by trying to make up new verses without messing up the rhythm. For example:
And when your back does cease to bend
It is the trail that never ends!
And when your knees will never mend
It is the trail that never ends! 

It went on for quite a while, while we searched high and low for the Jeep. Finally, Mom looked back and saw that we had passed it! Needless to say, we hurried back, dropped our packs in the trunk, and drove home, exhausted. We ate at a burger place that night with Dad, and whenever Mom or I tried to walk we stumbled and tripped over our own stiff legs.

The finish!


BY THE WAY: I updated the About Page.


Remodeling our Class C!

Hey guys!

I know, I know, we’ve been gone for a long time. But after our break, we’re ready to proceed telling our travels. The main reason we took such a break, at first, was the lack of subject matter. We hardly did anything blog-worthy. A few sleepovers, trips to the public pool, and every-day studies are nothing to speak of. We then reached Wayne County and started on some more adventures, but still didn’t write! Now it’s time to tell you all about the biggest thing we did during our break. That thing was a remodel.

The “before” layout 

Do you remember how our motorhome was arranged? Come to think of it, I don’t think we showed many pictures of our little house, so I’ll describe it as it was.

There was a loft above the cab, and and a dinette on the left (when facing the front) side. A couch took over the right side in front of the door. The kitchen was behind the dinette, and the bathroom beyond that. In the very back there was a set of bunk beds, right in the middle of the room. Gordon and I slept in them, though he eventually moved into the loft, and I got both bunks (one for sleeping, one as a desk). That had been a queen-sized bed, but we remodeled it at the beginning. Once you’ve got the picture in mind, we can move on to the new floor plan.

The “after” layout

I’ll begin at the back. That big bedroom with the bunks has gone back to a queen bed. It’s a really beautiful little room now, with light green walls and a pretty, white, embroidered bed cover. The big picture-window in the back is framed with wood, and provides a great view wherever we are, because we’re usually somewhere picturesque. In the daytime the windows are covered with thin white curtains, stenciled with red and green flower patterns on the edges, while at night they’re blocked by thicker snap-on curtains.


The kitchen, bathroom, and dinette are the same as ever, though there are still ideas to change the dinette into an L shape, and to make the table removable. Across the way to the right side, however, things have changed. There’s still a couch, but it’s a lot less space-consuming, not to mention far prettier. Our old couch came out a good foot or so further, and it’s great to have the extra floor space. This new couch is entirely hand-made. Dad made the frame, with some helpful little compartments underneath, out of beautifully dark stained wood, and Mom and I made cushions with a nice cream-and-orange patterned fabric. The couch is adorned with a considerable amount of pillows (five, to be exact, but it seems like a lot more).

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The wall leading to the cab is the same green color as the back bedroom, as is the wall alongside the dinette. There is a strip of stained wood along the cab wall, just there to be pretty.


And finally, the loft. Above the cab, the space is divided into two separate beds by about a foot and a half of space. I have the right-hand bed, and Gordon the left. Each bed is extended a few feet over the couch and dinette, to give us plenty of room to sleep. They, as well, are made of pretty dark-stained wood. You might imagine that it would be hot up there, but a Fantastic Fan is whirring away as I write.

Gordon’s bed (left), and mine (right).


“Where do you keep your clothes?” is a frequently asked question when people see our home. Gordon and I each have a cupboard, mine above the couch, and his above the dinette. We keep bins up there to organize. They’re long cupboards, stretching from our beds to the door, or in Gordon’s case, the kitchen. I bet you can’t say that your space to keep clothes goes all the way to the kitchen!

But where do we keep things? Just, you know, stuff? To be honest, I can’t think of too much stuff that we have to keep. There’s a cupboard in the back to keep computers in, and school supplies are kept in a bin between the two seats in the cab. Gordon keeps his X-Box supplies (controllers, games, etc.) in his cupboard, and the X-Box itself under the table. We each have a bag in the back, under Mom and Dad’s bed, about half filled or less with random items, and that’s also where I keep my sewing supplies. But when you walk into our house, you can only see that we keep one type of thing: books. There’s a bookshelf stretching out under the couch, books piled on ledges in Mom and Dad’s room, and usually at least a couple laying around. I am a book enthusiast, so I had to have a place to keep mine, as well. Gordon and I each have a felt bin at the foot of my bed, the head of his (we sleep opposite). My bin is stuffed to bursting with what I plan to read next, while Gordon uses his for every-day stuff he needs easy access to: magazines, his phone, stuff like that.

So next time you need to remodel a 28′ Class C motorhome to accommodate the needs of four people (as I’m sure you will someday), you know what to read, and who to ask. Just drop by Turtletells.

Four Reasons Corvettes Aren’t Just for Old Guys

You know the stereotype: a sixty five year-old retiree driving through Palm Beach in his brand new Corvette. Now that his kids are gone he can finally spend the money on his long-time dream car. There’s no denying that old guys love Corvettes, but are they really the only people who appreciate them? I think not. The new Chevy sports car is of such quality, beauty, and speed that it really makes you consider purchasing one. I’m going to give you four reasons the Corvette isn’t just for old guys.


Track time


As you may know, last year, at Car and Driver’s Lightning Lap, Chevy’s Corvette made it around Virginia International Raceway in 2:44.6 that’s 2.9 seconds faster than the Lamborghini Huracan LP610-4’s time of 2:47.5. The Corvette also won Road and Track’s performance car of the year, made it onto Car and Driver’s 10 Best list, and, among many other awards and accolades, won Autoweek’s Best of the Best New Car Honor. Performance-wise, this is no longer your dad’s sports car.


Power, pure power

vette rear

This car is a beast. With 650 horsepower and 650 lb-ft of torque, you can go from 0-60 in 2.95 seconds. The raw power holds your back to the seat and urges you to press the pedal down just a little further, until you reach the top speed of 205 mph. You can hit the drag strip and do a quarter mile in 10.95 seconds; that’s half second faster than a Ferrari 458! And for a third of the price, too. The Z06 package comes with Michelin Sport Cup 2 tires, Brembo carbon ceramic brakes, and a variety of downforce-alicious aero bundles to choose from, including that dark-tinted transparent spoiler that looks so cool.



interior blu

The same stereotype that says only old guys drive ‘Vettes also says they can’t use computers. Whether or not that’s true isn’t the point right now, but the 8-inch My-Link touchscreen is. It can record track data, analyze lap times, take video of your ride, show your record top speeds, 0-60 times, quarter miles, and more. You can get real-time data overlays with the Cosworth toolbox program and save your data and video with an SD card reader in the glovebox. That’s not all, though: Bluetooth, premium Bose audio, Sirius XM, and Apple Car Play make this a killer entertainment system. You can remotely unlock and start the car with your iPhone and stream music all day with built-in 4G WiFi from Sprint. That’s a lot of tech for an old guy car.



63 fastback

The Corvette has been around since the early fifties and has become a part of our American heritage. I’m talking baseball games, apple pie, Coca Cola, and Corvettes. There’s something special about a car that’s been around since ‘52 and will likely be made by Chevy for the rest of time. This car is as much of a legend as a Mustang, as beloved as the FIA Cobra, and as powerful as a Boeing 747. Okay, that might have been a slight exaggeration, but the point is, it’s a classic and the perfect car for anyone.

After Prince’s song Little Red Corvette came out, Chevy put up a billboard featuring a ‘63 fastback. The Beach Boys, LL Cool J, George Jones, Sir Mix Alot, and Jan and Dean have all written songs about ‘Vettes. That’s because  It’s a classic, a competitor, a winner, the subject of many songs, and a ride for the generations. And, as Chevy’s billboard put it: They don’t write songs about Volvos.


(Images licensed for non-commercial reuse)

Five Reasons to Buy a Cayman GT4

Porsche’s mid-engined sports coupe, the Cayman, has been dominating the entry-level sports car world ever since it hit the showroom floor in 1996, but now a new iteration of Cayman arises. Behold the GT4! With a 24-valve, flat-six engine straight out of the 911, this is the car to have, and I’m going to tell you five reasons why:

GT4It’s rare

This is an uncommon car. Only about 2,500 will have been made by the end of 2016, and only half of those will go to the U.S. market. Compare that to the 428,606 Toyota Camrys sold in 2015 alone. Just the fact that you’ll be driving something so rare is enough to make you drop by a dealership today.

It’s an investment

Because there aren’t many GT4s out there and this is quite possibly Porsche’s last manual-only sports car, the car is expected to go up in value over the next 20-30 years. That means you can justify the purchase of this fine automobile easily. Call it an investment.

It’s a good value

A great reason to own this car is the price. At a base of $85,595 it’s not cheap, but it’s also not unreasonable, considering a 911 starts at $89,400. You can option it with metallic paint, leather seats, a sports chronometer, and an extended fuel tank for $89,300. That’s $100 less than a base 911. That’s value.

GT4(2)It’s fast

Has there ever been a Porsche not made for performance? This track-happy little sports car gets from 0-60 in just 4.1 seconds. It has 385 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque, rocketing this car to a top track speed of 183 mph. If you like to go fast, this is the car for you.

It’s fun

Which brings me to my last comment about this exquisite vehicle: the fun of it.Track days, racing guys at stoplights, drifting around corners, escaping the cops, and simply getting seen are the real reasons to buy this car.

The Cayman GT4 not only turns heads and is ranked as the number one sports coupe by Car and Driver magazine, but it will, I guarantee, make the garage your favorite room in the house

GT4 interior



(All photos licensed for reuse via Google)

Five Reasons why Small Craft are Better

A small craft is any sail boat 21 feet long or less. Some of the commonly acknowledged advantages of small craft are their ability to go under low bridges and squeeze into tight places, but are there more reasons to get a small craft, rather than a larger one? Here are five reasons why small craft are better:

  1. Ease of use
    The smaller your boat, the easier it is to use. Out on a singlehanding trip?  Not to worry! Your mini vessel has you covered! Are you being pulled towards a lee shore? It’s far easier to claw off when you have a light boat, as it can still carry quite good sail.
    Screenshot 2016-04-21 at 10.51.02 AM 
  2.  Trailer Sailor
    Some of us can’t keep our boats docked at our favorite body of water. Consequently, they’re on a trailer in the driveway. Those of us who still go out on our vessels in these conditions call our little ships “trailer sailors.”  These small craft are transported and placed into the water with relative ease, compared to the
    40-footers dropped in by crane.
    Screenshot 2016-04-21 at 10.51.10 AM

  3. Rowing
    You know the feeling. It’s getting dark, you’re getting cold, and the wind is dead. The dock is in sight, sure, but it’s going to take forever to reach it. That’s when a small craft, complete with a sturdy set of oars, is just what you need. She’ll get you home in no time!
    Screenshot 2016-04-21 at 10.49.56 AM

  4. Repairs
    In a larger boat, hull repairs can be a pain. But along with its lower risk of grounding, a smaller boat is far easier to repair. On a trailer, all of the boat can be easily reached. And there’s no fooling around with a 10-foot-tall fin keel, either, so you won’t have to deal with awkward positions while leaning out the side of your ship.
    Screenshot 2016-04-21 at 10.50.43 AM

  5. Teaching
    Small craft are great for teaching your kids to sail! For the reasons above, they can be great trailering boats, vessels that don’t try their patience, and great “practice” boats. In a boat designated for practice, you allow minor scrapes and groundings. You won’t have to worry when letting your child try his hand, because you can keep in mind the ease of repairs, and that grounding won’t hurt anything too bad.

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Five Reasons to Follow Us on Instagram

TurtleTells has been a blog since April 2013 and has had an Instagram since March of the same year. We’ve been posting square pieces of fun for three years, and if you don’t follow us already, I think you should. Here are five reasons why:


Inside peeks of little adventures before they end up on the blog, like this trip to Lake Powell last summer.

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Bad puns. Really bad puns.

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Great commentary.

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More puns. More really bad puns.

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Family photos. Awwww😍

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If you want to follow us you can click HERE

TobyMac Concert in Phoenix

For my twelfth birthday, Mom and I went to a TobyMac concert with my friend Cali and her mom. TobyMac, for those of you who don’t know, is a Christian hip hop artist. One of my favorites. There were five other Christian artists in the concert as well, all of whom are under his label.

Image by Lillian Dumas.

At 5:00 we got on the train and rode until we reached the Phoenix Suns Stadium, where the concert was being held. We got there about 6:00 and the concert wasn’t until 7:00, but it took a while to get to our seats. When we finally got there, Cali and I took a few selfies to pass the time and speculated about the coming music.

It started out with two songs from Hollyn. She’s this really cool girl singer, and she’s pretty new. Hollyn’s one of my top five favorite singers now, but I hadn’t heard of her before then. She sang Alone, and All I Need is You. The latter is actually my favorite song by Lacrae, a Christian rap artist.

download (2)
Image from I Am Hollyn on Facebook.

After her came Colton Dixon, an awesome guy with an awesome bleached mohawk. It was really hard to hear some of the lyrics because the music was so loud, and I figured out how to filter out background noise! All you have to do is press down on that little skin flap on the front of your ear, and you can hear way better!

Colton Dixon played five songs, the names of which I can’t remember, and then Finding Favour came on. I did spell it the English way on purpose. They did five songs as well. By this time I was getting fairly used to the volume of things, but once I made the mistake of covering my ears; when I uncovered them it was really loud.

Casting Crowns played next. I’d heard them a lot, but I didn’t know many of their songs really well. And then Building 429 came on. I hadn’t heard of them before, but I really like them now.

Britt Nicole, I think, had put on the best show so far. She had break dancers, and did things like falling off the stage into their arms while she sang. Britt did two songs that I knew, and then four more that I didn’t know.

After these five artists there was an intermission: it had already been about two hours! We stretched, and talked, and walked around. I couldn’t believe it was already 9 o’ clock!

Image by Mom.

After a twenty-minute intermission, we returned for the main event. TobyMac did another two hours!! I knew almost every song, and it was so fun! Hollyn is actually in TobyMac’s band, so she was up on stage then, too. I remember listening to those songs years ago, and thinking how cool it would be to see them performed live. It’s so cool that those daydreams came true!

Screenshot 2016-03-24 at 11.54.51 AM
Image by Lillian Dumas.

The whole thing was so incredible I can’t really describe it. If you’ve been to a big concert, you understand that sort of dumbfounded amazement. If you haven’t, all I can say is, you’ve never properly understood the word “loud,” or that particular sort of excitement that goes with carefully engineered noise.

Header image from Talking Stick Resort

Fast-Paced, Slow Travel

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