Rock Me Like A Hurricane

While visiting my parent's house yesterday, I took a trip over to the local rock yard with my dad and sister. Not for any reason in particular. We're not remodeling a bathroom or looking for a nice slab to cover a kitchen counter, we were just bored. If you knew my family this would make perfect sense. Although it sounded borderline interesting, I was not prepared to be so blown away by a destination with such an unassuming name - THE ROCK YARD.

Like topographical images of shifting weather patterns over obscure Eastern-European countries, every color and swirl pattern you could dream of was there, suspended in giant 400 pound sheets waiting to be discovered. Most granite I see in homes and on whatever HGTV show I happen to catch is evidently from the "safe and sophisticated" section of these yards. But, after going yesterday and witnessing the possibilities, I now find it a travesty for people to simply throw some regular old gray granite on their counters. Not to nerd out, but seeing all of those natural little works of abstract art was pretty humbling. Screw the downtown galleries. I think I'll just cut some counters, hang them on a white wall with little typed-out labels, buy some red dots, speak in a french accent, throw an opening party and retire.