by Heidi Eliason
I don't know what she meant to confess in this memoir. Probably her inability to find a good title. But I do know what I have to confess: as much as I wanted to like this book, I just didn't.
Very sorry. She went all kind of places (where I'd love to go), and saw all kind of things (that I'd love to see), but her approach to it all lacked the kind of insight and understanding that makes me enjoy reading a memoir. About halfway through, I started reading faster in hopes that she'd eventually get to something deep and thoughtful and insightful--and it just started reading like a to-do list. Grand Canyon? Done that. Manatees? Saw the tops of 'em. Friends? Made some. Etc.
The early part of the memoir and her trip to Baja was my favorite. After that, nada. And her romantic interlude just gave me the heebie-jeebies.
Again, sorry not to be able to recommend this. The RV repairs and mishaps were amusing but not really funny; the approach to life and living, shallow.
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