I happily agreed, not because I was excited, but because I could tell how much it meant to her.  I’m pretty out of the loop when it comes to pop culture, television, and celebrities.  I don’t own a television, I don’t read the news (with the exception of news that I am required to track for work), and I couldn’t pick a celebrity out of a lineup.  I honestly once had someone show me a photo of Madonna and I didn’t know who it was.  Yikes.

My mom isn’t big on what’s trending either, but she is very loyal to a handful of shows and celebrities, The Price is Right and Drew Carey being among her list.

I worked a few hours on Monday morning before I came home to find that she had cleaned my entire apartment from top to bottom (moms are awesome like that).  I was eager to get out of my work clothes and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.  My mom looked at my scruffy outfit and whined, “Are you serious?”

I was serious.

We hustled to the CBS studio with almost no traffic, which is a pretty damn good day in LA. Once we parked and made our way to the front gate I actually started to feel a little excited!  I wasn’t allowed to watch much TV as a child but one thing I did always love was The Price is Right, with the exception of Bob Barker.  I hate that old bastard, he was always so condescending to the elderly contestants.  Look in the mirror man, you’re like 100!

The initial waiting area was a hot mess.  We didn’t know where to wait or what to do.  We eventually found a friendly man from Madison, Wisconsin who was eager to point us in the right direction (Midwesterners are so awesome).  We waited in that area for over two hours next to the most obnoxious 50-year-old birthday girl ever.  She was loud, dressed like a teenager, and dragged her poor, old mother all over the place.   At one point she even told my mom her gray hair reminded her of her aunt.

The line finally started to move as they began to process the group of 300 people.  First they took a single photo of us, then a fun group photo that they try and convince you to buy at the end of the day.  My mom is a sucker.

Next, we got in our second line to wait for our interviews.  I knew I wasn’t going to be picked.  Unless you are wearing an obnoxious neon t-shirt that professes your love for the middle-aged comedian in puff paint, your chances are slim.  I was okay with that.  Besides, we arrived right before noon, which meant we were one of the last in the line.  The woman that was supposed to be taking notes in the interviews sat annoyed and bored, secretly scrolling through her phone behind a legal pad propped on her leg.  My mom’s ultimate dream was not going to come true that day.

Once we finished with our interviews we made our way to the last line, which was where I lost all my patience.  By this time, we had been waiting in lines for nearly five hours, and let’s be honest, I’m a pretty impatient person.  I’m prompt and like to get things done then and there.

They took our cell phones and had closed the snack bar at that point so the only luxury I was left with was being able to use the washroom.  When we returned I jumped at a couple of open seats.  A few minutes later a couple of teenagers returned and just stood in front of me staring and whispering just loud enough for me to hear, stating that I had “stole” their spot.  They clearly wanted me to move but I wasn’t really interested in that idea.  They finally walked away, but that didn’t stop a nearby old couple from chastising me for getting out of numerical order.  They insisted I move, even after I politely pointed out that not everyone was in order and that we would deal with it when we moved to the next area.  They weren’t satisfied with that answer and kept pressing on.  I wasn’t going to make my mom stand so some punks could sit down.  I lost my temper and told the old man to mind his own business.  I wasn’t proud of that, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel right.

After about 45 minutes in the last holding area they finally started to shuffle us into the studio.  We were the last group to arrive, and when we finally stepped into the studio I thought my brain was going to explode from sensory overload.  Neon colors, bright lights in every inch of the studio, music that streamed through my ears and shook my brain, and really aggressive dancing.  At this point I was a little terrified because I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to muster up enough fake enthusiasm to match my fellow game show attenders overwhelming excitement of being on television.  Even just the dancing worried me, which I usually only participate in if I’m alone or have a minimum of 3 glasses of wine under my belt.

I stood in the entrance in fear while I waited to be directed to a seat as everyone raged to a bubbly Katy Perry song.  The frantic usher finally approached us and told us they were nearly out of seats.  I was confused.  You know how many seats you have, you know how many tickets you reserved; why is this an issue?  We were told we could separate or sit together in obstructed seats.  I wanted to ask if there was just an option to leave.  Alas, we sat together in the obstructed seats.  They were incredibly obstructed.  We sat behind George’s (the announcer) podium and could honestly only see about 40% of the entire show.  I ended up just watching the screens suspended from the ceiling.

During the commercial breaks, Drew would engage in friendly banter with the audience.  I must say that this was my favorite part of the whole day (other than making my mom’s dream come true!).  His dry and nerdy humor reminded me of my cousin, Johnny, so it gave me quite a few smirks and chuckles.

At one point, George told Drew he needed to come over and give the people in the corner some love because we “had to stare at his butt the whole time.”  He came over and chatted with every single person that surrounded me.  He finally made eye contact with me, nearly ready to speak to me, but then our eyes just froze for a minute.  I didn’t know what to say to the guy and he was probably looking at me like, “who the hell let this angry troll in here?!”

He eventually walked away, but not without a firm handshake, a warm smile, and a little conversation for my mom.  After he walked away my mom leaned towards George and told him she was just as excited to see him as she was to see Drew.  He was flattered, shook her hand, and blew her a kiss.  Afterwards I was teasing her about it.  Her reply was, “I’m not going to get all weird and refuse to wash my hand, but it was nice.”

Overall, it was an exhausting, aggravating day that left me with a headache and an overwhelming happiness that I don’t engage in the nonsense of television.  But even with all these annoyances, it didn’t stop my mom from having the time of her life.  I kept looking over at her during the show, halfway siting in lap of the man next to her so she could see better, enjoying her ear to ear grin.  She had a great time and that is truly all that matters.

Now this is the face of someone who just had a dream come true!

I thought long and hard about how I could make that comeback and what I would write about.  It was one sunny Saturday afternoon while I was away on a day trip when it hit me: Christine’s wedding.  When I last wrote, I told the story of my long-time friendship with Christine and how our dear friend Beth’s death brought us closer than ever.

So now here I am, reflecting on a glorious (and snowy!) long weekend in Minnesota, feeling like I came full circle.  The wedding was amazing and filled with emotion; from the absence of Beth, to the victory of Christine’s twice-cancer-surviving father walking her down the aisle, it was a tear-jerker.

Christine had told me that if Beth were alive today, she would have been a part of the wedding party.  A couple of months ago we put our heads together to try to think of a way we could include her on Christine’s special day.  Christine’s idea was to visit the cemetery together the day before the wedding and place an “honorary bridesmaid” bouquet on her grave.  My idea was to make small frames with her photo and tie them into our bouquets on the day of the wedding.  We decided to do both.

I’ll never forget the moment the music started playing before we walked down the aisle.  I clenched my bouquet and the gent at my side, took a long look at the smiling face in a tiny frame staring back at me and headed down the aisle.  I truly felt like Beth was walking beside me, ready to celebrate this day with our amazing friend.

We weren’t able to make it to the cemetery the day before the wedding but Christine and Sam made the stop on Sunday.  She separated the bouquet and placed flowers on four graves: Ed, Ann, Jake, and Beth.  I can only imagine how loved Beth and her family must feel, wherever they are, knowing they will never be forgotten.  I couldn’t forget them if I tried.

As a last word, I just want to throw a shout out to Christine.  You inspired (but actually forced) me to start this website, you have been my rock through one of the toughest obstacles in my life, and you are the reason I am back on this site today, a site I have called “home” for over two years.  Love to you and I am so happy that I was able to be a part of your wedding day!

I have always considered myself a pretty positive person.  I always try to look at the bright side of things, that is, after all what this entire site is devoted to.  Over the last five years I have tried quite hard to model my coping in a way that would make Beth proud, she was such an incredibly strong person.  If she saw the mess that I was the whole year after her death I am sure she would have kicked my butt and told me to get a hold of myself.  She was always such a hard ass, even that first day I met her…

It was October and the soccer lesson in my eight grade gym class was underway.  I played soccer for years throughout elementary school, which lead me to develop a secret hate for the sport.  I decided to take a poor grade and stand on the sidelines, refusing to participate.  I stood with my arms crossed, sure to prove my point, watching my fellow classmates scoot back and forth on the field.  I lost track of the ball when I noticed a girl standing on the other side of the field, clearly having the same thoughts as I was.  I slowly walked across the field, deliberately trying to get in the way of the ongoing game.  The gym teacher began to shout at me, “Get out of the way, Buelow!”  I just casually waved and continued walking towards this girl I had yet to meet.  She was wearing black track pants and a teal Nike sweatshirt, her long blonde hair tangled in her arms across her chest.  I casually stood next to her for a moment before I said “This sucks, huh?”

“Yup.” was all she said as she rolled her eyes and walked away from me.

I stood there kind of shocked, but was also amused by this girl so I decided to make it my personal mission to become her friend.  I was persistent in pursuing her friendship, regardless of how hesitant she was.  After a week or so of me bugging the crap out of her, I think she just gave up.  She asked me to be her CPR partner health class and the rest was history.

Beth and I on the last day of 8th Grade

Beth and I spent the next ten years building up a friendship that I was sure I was going to cherish for the rest of my life.  I know I will, I just never thought I would cherish it without her.

We used to do the silliest things, I’ll never forget the time we staged a turkey murder in her Aunt Nancy’s front yard the day before thanksgiving (the things high school kids do for entertainment).  We went to Cub at midnight on a secret mission to buy a frozen turkey and ketchup.  Lots of ketchup.  We dumped the turkey and fake feathers from a craft store in Nancy’s yard.  We then used the ketchup to make it look like there was blood everywhere.  It was so dumb, but the looks on her entire family’s faces was pretty memorable when they saw that monstrosity in the front yard the next day.  I don’t think Nancy even knew that was us until I told her after Beth had died; we had a good time laughing about it.

I think I have always enjoyed the silliness in my life, but Beth taught me how to embrace it and bring it to an art form.  She taught me so much, I always thought she was one of those people who was wise beyond their years.  She taught me to be silly and to dance like a fool and never stop to see if anyone was watching.  She taught me how to play card games and how to embrace heavy music such as Korn.  She taught me to never be afraid to say “I love you.”  But one of the most important gifts Beth gave me was the gift of friendship.  Both her friendship and the friendships she inspired in my life, especially with Christine.

Christine and I had been friends since junior high, but drifted away after high school.  I always thought about calling her, she was such a fun friend.  Christine went away to school in Illinois but her and Beth remained close.  Beth was always prying on both ends, telling me to call her and telling her to call me.  Neither of us ever did, I’m not sure what it was that stopped me.

After Beth passed away, we were instantly drawn together again.  Maybe it was that we were both looking for a connection to Beth, or that we both knew it was finally time to mend our relationship.  Or maybe it was our way of fulfilling a wish we both knew meant a lot to Beth.

Over the last five years, Christine and I have grown to a closeness I feel we never had before.  I have not seen her in over a year, but we talk every single week.  We both agree that we are each others last ties to Beth and her family.  We are the ones that are carrying her memory and legacy in our hearts.  She is the first one I call when I am sad and thinking of Beth and her family.  We call and send each other messages on her birthday, and on Mother’s Day when we are thinking of Ann and all the giddy afternoons we spent in that living room.

I don’t think I would have been able to center my grief as well as I have over the last five years if it wasn’t for Christine.  I always thought this was Beth’s way of taking care of us after she was gone.  She wanted us to have each other to support, and I am thankful everyday that we did.

Beth is gone and there isn’t a day that goes by that I haven’t wished that I could change that, but I am so thankful for so much.  I am thankful that I had her in my life for as long as I did, that I have so many photos, memories, and stories I wrote about her in my journals over the years, and for the things she left behind, both in my heart and in my life.

The car was packed and the mood was right, we were ready for our California camping trip in the mountains.  I have been camping since I was a child and love everything about it.  I love the fresh air, sleeping on the ground, forging for wood, cooking over an open flame, getting dirty, entering survival mode, and leaving no tracks.  The elements that made this trip even more exciting was that I had never been camping in California before and it had been years since I had camped in the mountains.

We pulled into the campsite and I instantly reverted to childhood – my hands and face smeared against the window – “Look at that huge fire pit!  Check out that view!”  You would have thought there was a hanger in my mouth, I couldn’t stop smiling.

That first night, while everyone was gathered around the fire, I stepped away for a moment of silence.  I stood in the complete darkness, smelling nothing but a mixture of campfire and fresh air, seeing nothing but the shadows from the full and luminous moon, and hearing nothing but the faint sound of my friend’s laughter behind me.  It was an amazing abundance of feelings and emotions that I wish I could have held onto forever.  I felt so happy in that moment, as if there was no where else in the world I would have rather been.

We spent the remainder of the weekend soaking up the awesomeness that is the Angeles National Forest.  We hiked, built amazing fires, drank beer, played games, laughed a lot, made friends with the ranger, and cooked some awesome meals over the fire.  It was a great weekend.  I feel so thankful that I have met this group of people in LA; this group that not only shares my love of camping, but has invited me into their “family” with warm and welcome arms.

What is your favorite camping experience?  Tell me in the comments!

The two of us began to unload the truck, which is something we have never done with so few people.  It was probably the most exhausting three hours of my life.  Andy and I were a bit slap happy, both from the exhaustion of hauling boxes and furniture and the excitement of seeing each other.  At one point I actually crumbled on the stairs underneath my flopping mattress, trying to cry and laugh at the same time.  I’m sure my neighbors thought the new tenant in apartment five was nothing short of a nut job.

On the first day, I stood in the middle of the living room and looked around at all that surrounded me.  I couldn’t help but think of that man I never knew, who was also buried in his belongings, only in a different way.  I spent the first half of March hibernating in my apartment, attempting to tear down the mountain of things I have accumulated over the years.  It was a difficult process in many ways.  Physically, it was just a lot of work, but I also had to decide what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to donate.

The joy of it was that unpacking made everyday feel a bit like Christmas as a child.  Each box I opened contained an abundance of tightly wrapped goodies.  I felt a certain anticipation as I eagerly unwrapped the newspaper dated September 2010.  Mixed emotions flooded my apartment.  Childhood treasures made me laugh and memorabilia of lost ones made me long for the faded memories of my past.

After living the life of a minimalist for 17 months I thought it would be easy to rid myself of these things I thought I needed.  It was easier than I thought, but there were some things I wanted to hold onto, things that reminded me of people who no longer exist in my life.  I forced myself to the decision that unless the possession is one that belonged to the dear five that have left this world, then it had to go.  There is no point in trying to hold onto something that is clearly long gone.

Once I instilled a little more logic and a little less heart into my unpacking process, it became much easier.  This sent me into a tossing fit, filling a dozen giant boxes with donations for the Goodwill.  As I filled the boxes, the practical crafter inside me situated herself on my shoulder, whispering ideas of recycled art projects into my ear.  I have been here before and found that is where a lot of my clutter comes from: art supplies.  I decided to minimize the things to keep for art, but did make some fun projects out of them.

A pitcher filled with wine corks was turned into coasters, which was perfect because I didn’t have any.

A soap dispenser was given to me by my sister, which I splashed with colorful paint to match my bathroom.  As long as it’s in my own home I actually like to use a bar of soap, but I can get down with the dispenser.  As long as it doesn’t dispense foam soap.  To me, foam soap is symbolism at it’s best when showing how lazy our country is.  We can’t even take a moment to work up a lather!  I cringe every time I press a soap lever and a perfect swirl of white foam lands in my palm.  It seems ridiculous, but I guess it’s just one of those little things that drives me crazy.

Currently, I am working on turning twenty t-shirts into a blanket, which will also be perfect because the only blanket I have is on my bed.  I would hate to sleep in my sleeping bag when I forfeit my bed to my upcoming visitors.

So, even though I got rid of more things than I probably kept, I was able to turn a couple of things into new adornments for my home.  What are some of your favorite ways to recycle your belongings?

Making myself a home away from no home

This fact became more of a reality and less of a game to me since I returned from my travels almost a year ago.  Freelance writing is no way to get ahead, financially speaking, so I remained “homeless” to continue to do what I love.

There were so many things I missed about having my own home.  I missed sitting on my bed and staring at my wall art (I called it meditating, others called it too much time on my hands).  I missed my low-sodium cookbooks and whipping up delicious, kidney-friendly recipes in my own kitchen.  I really missed having my own space to write, paint, and create.

One of my favorite quotes is: “The pessimist complains about the wind, the optimist expects it to change, but the realist adjust the sails.”

I don’t always consider myself a realist, but I am a champ at making the very best with what I have.  Things weren’t always fine and dandy, but I always remembered the life changing experiences that ended up coming out of my nomadic lifestyle.  However, I’m still human and I had my days.  So, this is my grumbling:

I ate out a lot.  I enjoy dining out but would prefer to cook myself.  My kidneys agree.

I found my underwear in people’s driveways – several times.  The most embarrassing incident was at Tamera’s house, only because it had rained the previous night and had slicked my neon green underwear to her driveway.  I stopped leaving clothes in my car.  It was best for everyone.

I didn’t have anything tying me down.  I was able to pick up and travel the country for three months.  I still think of it as one of the best things I have ever done for myself.

I lost a lot of stuff – jewelry, clothes, shoes, and a little bit of my mind.

I lived with Diana and Brad for two months in West St. Paul.  Their quaint house still and always will release that “happy place” feeling whenever I enter.

I bought a car.  I had been car-less for 14 months prior to moving out of my Burnsville home.  I’m quite impulsive and often have an odd way of making decisions, if you never noticed.

I sold my car.  There was no way my car was going to make it back to LA after the torture I put that poor 10-year-old car through on my road trip around the states.  I am once again without a car but live in a city where everything I want, except my friends, is within walking or biking distance.  Luckily, I have a really cool sister that shares her car with me for all those weekend trips to the valley.

I drove a lot.  I put over 30,000 miles on my car in one year. Only 6,000 miles was from my road trip.  The average American drives 12,000 miles per year.  Where the heck was I going?

I’d like to say that I saved money from not paying rent, but I’d only be lying to myself.

I had my good days and my bad days, but things were never really as bad as they seemed.  I had originally put my belongings in storage for two months – HA!  Those two months quickly turned into a year and a half, but it reminded me of things I often forget in the bustle of life.  It reminded me to slow down, to appreciate the little things I had in my life, and how to live comfortably as a minimalist.

My belongings are currently snuggled into a large moving truck en route to my new apartment in LA.  I am eager to tear through the boxes and find that I don’t need half of the things I packed away that sad September.  Hopefully having a home again won’t spoil me too much.  If it does, I just might go find a yoga mat and some random floor to sleep on, just to remind myself how truly lucky I am in life.

Her and her husband, Jason ventured out one evening to find a delightful box of free goodies outside their favorite music store.  Heatherlyn gathered a pile of vintage sheet music and instructional books to be used to both create and inspire her.  She inspired me to venture out and find a similar treasure, one to enjoy and use to create something new.

I fell fast asleep that night, dreaming that I was running into a house demolition just before the roof was about to collapse.  I somehow had the knowledge that the house contained a plethora of boxes filled with vintage newspapers, sheet music, and books.  I ran quickly into the dark room, coughing and struggling to see through the thick clouds of dust that surrounded me.  I spotted the boxes and grabbed what I could with the time I had.  The weight of my new treasures began to fill my arms when my Dad poked his head around the corner, hardhat and all, telling me it’s time to get out of the house.  I clutched the papers close as I ran out of the building, smiling and filling my mind with the unexpected goodness these materials would see.

I woke in the morning feeling like I had one mission for my day: to find some awesome vintage paper.  If I was in Minnesota, I would have known right where to go to.  Vintage and re-usable goodies are always right at my fingertips, whether it be from my own personal stash, my Dad’s house, or my favorite vintage or thrift shops.  But, I am in LA now and have no idea where the good spots are.

I ended up at a friend’s house that afternoon, who happens to be both a huge music buff and works in the industry.  I asked him where the best spots might be to find vintage paper, sheet music, or even a used bookstore.  The only conclusion we came to was to buy actual sheet music and age it with tea, patina or some other kind of finish.  Maybe next time, but not today.

I left his house and decided to make a quick stop at the Goodwill down the street.  They had a large bookshelf filled floor to ceiling with used books.  I was shuffling along when I came across a lonely road map lying on the bottom shelf.  I instantly picked it up.  My mom taught me how to read a map on our first road trip when I was seven years old; I’ve been fascinated with them ever since.  My mind began to wander as my ideas transformed.  I’m like a kitty cat when it comes to distractions.

On my drive home that night, I began to think of all the cool things I could do with the map.  Several projects are currently in the works, stay tuned for some more awesome tutorials!

What you need:

1 large bunch of Kale

Seasoning of choice

1 T olive oil

The Process

Cut the stems off and rinse the leaves in a strainer or salad spinner.  If you strain them, let them air dry or pat the leaves dry.  They won’t crisp as well if they go in the oven wet.  I left them in the sink and did something else.  Life is too short to be pat-drying the nooks and crannies of Kale.

Toss them in the olive oil once they are dry.  For mine, I tossed one half with habanero olive oil, and the other half with regular olive oil.  Lay them in a single layer on a cooking sheet.  Sprinkle your favorite seasoning over the greens.  I didn’t want to add any sodium to my snack so I used curry powder on one half and just the habanero oil on the other.

Bake them in a 325 degree oven for 10-15 minutes.  I kept a good eye on mine, checking them every four minutes or so.  I would have been all annoyed if I burnt them beyond consumption.  They cooked for about 13 minutes.

The Stats: 2 cups cooked: 66 calories, 58 mg sodium (no salt added), 4 grams protein

The Review They tasted great right out of the oven and even better as a night snack in front of a movie.  So basically, they were really good and I ate them all.  I have been thinking of them for days and will most likely make them for the roommates sometime soon.

Do you have a recipe you want Happy Times to transform into a healthy, low sodium snack, appetizer or meal?  Visit the contact page for more information!

Three young women with big hearts and an even bigger dream challenged those questions when they embarked on a nine-week road trip around the United States in an RV.  Natalie Vartanian, Sally Hope and Kathryn Lejeune make up Girls Gone Moto, a web TV show and pursuit of happiness project.

Vartanian and Hope, both certified life coaches, have a vision of fulfilling their lives and the lives around them.  Lejeune is the artistic soul who joined them on the journey, filming their weakest and most intimate moments.

Kathryn Lejeune, Natalie Vartanian, Sally Hope and Coach the Dog - Credit: GGM

These three women traveled together with a simple mission: to inspire people to pursue happiness, dream, and take action.

This heartwarming journey was inspired by a five-week RV trip that Hope and Vartanian took together around the western United States.

“It was during that first RV trip where Girls Gone Moto was born,” Vartanian said.  “We saw how inspired people were from hearing our story and dreaming of doing something like that for themselves.”

Prior to the trip, the girls raised about $7,000 through a fundraising campaign.  These funds covered expenses like gas, lodging fees for the RV and supplies that supported their volunteering efforts.  Vartanian said she was overwhelmed by the support of the community that reached out to their mission.

Their journey lead them from their homes in Southern California to the North Carolina coast.  In Episode 4, the girls danced on the Atlantic Ocean shore and celebrated a victory so sweet I could almost feel the wind in my hair and the sand between my toes.

Their ultimate goal for the journey was to film a pilot web TV series and pitch the material to networks.  Their desire to join the thousands in television was not to gain fame or to fill their pockets, but to contribute in a positive way in which they inspire people to follow their dreams and give back to their communities.

The random acts of kindness took little effort but received huge results.  A few of these simple gestures included, leaving notes on people’s windshields, paying someone’s toll, putting money in expired meters, donating books and crayons to a hospital, picking up trash and leaving a purchased snack in a vending machine for the next person.

Sally Hope ready to deliver an air-filled bouquet of love to postal workers in Englewood, CO - Credit: GGM

Many of the thoughtful gestures could have a chain of results for the recipient, such as leaving a sympathy card and a free month of coaching for a recent widow or handing someone the last $20 they need to feed their family.  Large or small, this kind of behavior offers the recipient an amazing and unexpected gift, one they can not only reflect on, but also give to someone else in return.

“Generally, people responded with disbelief,” Vatanian said.  “That was a real wake up call for us, that random acts of kindness are so rare in our society that people question your motives when you are simply trying to do something nice for them; it was kind of sad to see that.”

This reality only led the girls to feeling a greater importance to give and have people pay it forward to create a ripple effect in our world.

Vartanian said her favorite random act of kindness was giving a man gas money at a station in Utah.  They later received an email from the man’s daughter, expressing her gratitude for their compassion.  This small attempt to reach out to him truly made his day.

But, these road angels didn’t stop at random acts of kindness.  They volunteered with a variety of organizations, including various animal shelters, homeless shelters and after school programs for children.

Natalie Vartanian making friends at Brother Wolf Animal Rescue in Asheville, NC - Credit: GGM

Unfortunately, the trip wasn’t entirely smooth sailing.  The RV they rented from a friend caused a plethora of trouble that none of them had expected.  The vehicle they dubbed “Bess” put up quite a fight, giving her first punch 36 hours into their trip.  The troubles ranged from flat tires to dead batteries to water leaks.  Overall, they put about $2,000 into an RV that didn’t belong to them.  Ouch.

Their cost of gas was outrageous and inspired me to never grumble at the pump again.  They spent about $3,000 on gas in nine weeks.  They drove 7,300 miles and got about eight miles to the gallon.  That’s an average of about $0.41 a mile.

These kinds of setbacks could discourage anyone.  I can easily picture myself flooding the RV with dismay and tears.

“There were several moments when we felt discouraged and wanted to turn the RV around and go home,” Vartanian said.  “We had so many mechanical issues come up that first day and a half that we wanted to just throw in the towel.”

They overcame those hurdles by remembering the vision and why it was important to them, she said. They started seeing how those bumps in the road were small in comparison to the big picture of the journey.

The girls tackled students at University of Texas-Austin for a moment of instant friendship and silliness - Credit: GGM

Despite all the obstacles they had to overcome, all three girls agreed it was an incredible, life changing, challenging whirlwind of a first season of Girls Gone Moto.

The girls agreed their greatest lessons learned were patience and learning how to go with the flow.  They rarely had an idea of what the next week would entail, which led them on a truly unforgettable adventure.

During Episode 6, Hope expressed her gratitude toward the lessons she had embraced throughout the trip.

“I felt really grateful that we are able to go around to different states and meet different people and hear all their stories,” she said.  “Everyone has a unique story, and it’s so incredible to hear them.”

So what’s next for Girls Gone Moto?  Vartanian says their current plan is to focus on pitching their concept to networks.  Since driving an R.V. isn’t very cost efficient, the girls may decide to head to Coast Rica and turn Girls Gone Moto into a global effort.

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We crouched on the carpet behind our grandpa while he was asleep in his chair, snickering at the plan that was stirring in our minds.  We carefully removed the wrappers, snapped them into tiny pieces and strategically placed them in the carpet in front of the radiator.  We sat in amazement as the brilliant wax meshed with the cream-colored fibers of his carpet.

From then on, every time we visited our grandpa’s house we would grab a handful of crayons out of the bucket and place the small chunks in and around the existing melted crayon pile.  I am not sure how long this went on for, but surprisingly it was our mother that noticed what we had done to his carpet.  I can’t imagine she was very happy with us.

This story recently came up in a conversation, which got me thinking about how I can productively melt crayons and not be reprimanded as an end result.  After a little research online I found that I could use crayons in a glue gun – who would have thought?

What you will need:

Crayola Crayons

Glue Gun

Canvas – size of your choice

Garbage Bags or Newspaper

Cardstock – optional

Paint – optional

Paintbrush – optional

The process:

I think you could do just about any kind of design with this project, whether it be streaks, blobs or shapes.  I had a specific idea in mind, inspired by a dream I had last night.  If you want to add any other kind of medium to the canvas to add to the crayons, do that step first.  I am really bad at drawing, so creating this silhouette took me a good 25 minutes.  Haha, check out her feet.

I see rain in her forecast

I carefully painted the silhouette after I had her transferred to the canvas.  I like to use oil paint, which was also the only black paint that I had.  Exercise caution if you decide to go this route, as oil paint takes about 24 hours to fully dry.  Somehow I still ended up with black paint on my face, which I of course did not notice until a good hour after my project was complete.  Typical.  You could probably also use a black permanent marker.

Next, I created a shield with the cardstock so the wax wouldn’t run all over the painted lady.

I can't see her face, but I can tell she's happy.

Remove the paper from the crayons.  I think I got a special box so this surprisingly took me longer than I had anticipated.  I used 18 crayons for a 12″ x 16″ canvas.

Scented memories

You will need to remove the component of the gun that is designed to push the glue forward, otherwise the crayons won’t fit.  My attempts to remove it with a needle nose pliers were futile.  I ended up removing the screws and completely dismantling the gun to remove it.  So, this will basically become my crayon gun since I ruined it.  Glue guns are about $2 at any craft store so don’t lose any sleep over this.

Use the garbage bags or newspaper to create a barrier around your workstation.  I was concerned the wax was going to splatter all over the place once it heated in the gun so I took the ugliest crayon out of the box and used it as a tester to get a feel for the wax flow.  It came out in a steady stream and I used the following color to push the existing color through, since my gun no longer had a trigger.  This also creates a nice transition between colors.  Start at the top and allow the wax to drip to the bottom of the canvas, working your way from left to right.

Halfway there!

This was actually kind of an awkward project.  I was crouched on the floor, focusing on not touching the drying wax with my hands or the glue gun cord or messing up my drying silhouette.  Use extra caution when you are working near the object you added to the canvas.  I slowly made my way through my pile of crayons until I reached the right side of the canvas.

I allowed the wax to dry before I made a couple of touch-ups with the black paint and removed the excess wax from the bottom of the canvas. I sat back and took in the views of the completed project, laughing to myself and wishing my little brother was here to melt crayons with me.

Rain, rain, go away...