"Strange travel plans are dancing lessons from God"- a friend's words on our way out of Homer

I guess it is a "strange" plan, but it's not that weird. We want to go surfing in Central America, and we want to have a car to get from surf break to surf break. So, Forrest & I bought plane tickets to Phoenix to find a car on Craigslist and start the journey from here. Tickets to San Diego were about 5 dollars cheaper, but we are dreaming of an old Toyota or Nissan truck that probably wouldn't pass California's emissions tests.
Shopping on Craigslist is a pain. What do you expect from free advertising though? No one takes down ads when things have sold-- they just ignore your inquiries-- so you end up viewing the same trucks over and over again, hoping a gem you haven't seen will pop up.
Last night, our Craigslist chase got us to a parking lot in North Phoenix across from a CVS pharmacy where 20 Mexican men were hanging around 5 junk cars with florescent pink and yellow hand-made for sale signs taped to them. Forrest stopped a cop and asked about the legitimacy of this de facto car lot-- do these guys even own the cars? The cop sarcastically answered: "How legit does it look to you?"
No one actually claims these junk cars they are selling-- one truck we looked at yesterday the guy said belonged to his grandpa, but he had gone blind. One guy said that a '93 Toyota with a clutch that sounded like dragon breath belonged to his son, but he got two DUIs.
My dad is very concerned that we are going to die in Mexico or Central America. But we have to get there first.

Back with an Announcement!

I've been gone a while and left you with kind of a cliff-hanger. Sorry.

No Sheryl, I did NOT take the homicide-inducing malaria medicine.  I'm sure we can credit that small decision, along with a host of other things, to my recent engagement to that same boy who traveled through Kenya with me.

Forrest and I have been dating about two years now. He romantically chose to propose at my parents lake home in Minnesota, because it is one of my favorite places in the world.  Forrest had never been there before. He's originally from Florida.  The weather, unromantically, was -25 with a -50 windchill.

The outdoor proposal on the deck he had planned turned into waiting on one knee at the bottom of the stairs clad in a down jacket. He used the engagement ring that was a gift from my grandmother. The proposal was sweet, romantic, and blessedly room temperature.

We're the kind of people that take our own engagement photos. This is it.

Little did I know, the second you announce your engagement, your midwestern mother rolls out plans she has been making since you were in the womb. Forrest and I are thinking of a small wedding with family and a fun party. My mother is thinking of a guest list longer than the population of some countries, a full orchestra with a gospel choir, and, oh yeah, don't forget the sequin-bedazzled elephants.