Feeling restless, I went for a drive early last fall.  I drove west, all the way to Lake Michigan, and then north.  I wound my way back, driving only on red roads.  I have no idea, now, where these photos were taking, but I love what that day did to me.  I will drive on as many red roads as I can, between now and when I die.

This building, which I believe was a church at one time, stands at a ‘T’ intersection of two roads.  There was no street sign that I could find, so I can’t tell you how to get there.  The idea that Jesus, pure and loved, could be forgotten in this sparsely populated area was enough to make me call my best friend, and send her this photo.  ‘Crooked Jesus’ I called it, because I could think of no othe way to put it.

The Stix Bar was definitely in the stix.  If it hadn’t been sunday morning, I’m certain I would have had far more interesting things to say about this place.

The plan is to make this place a celebration of all things me.  The things I forget to talk about, with my head buried in code or emails.  The things I want to remember in 50 years.  The things you miss, taking the interstates.  The interstates definitely have their place, but slowing down and noticing the odd things can go very well, too.

This place is hope for me.  I hope you enjoy it.