This morning Spike wants OUT while my head is still on my pillow.
Bridget is cuddled next to me. What a warm little muffin you are, little girl. Spike obviously has to go out. “Okay! Okay!” I rush to dress. He continues to bark like crazy, jumping at the door. Before I can get my pants on, I turn the lock, push the door open, and he busts out. Quickly I yank the cords to lift the mini-blinds. I want to keep a close eye on him while I finish getting dressed. Bridget sticks her head out from beneath the covers.
I pull up the blind in the rear of the BLT.
There goes Spike, trotting up the lane. At that very moment I also see an animal, greyish-brown, dash across the lane at the top of the hill, running from creosote bushes on the left to a clump of palo verde on the right. “OH NO!”
I dash out the door and sprint up the lane.
I scoop up Spike who’s totally unaware of the possibility of danger. As I carry him down toward the BLT, I look to our left and see a black-tailed jackrabbit the size of a Volkswagen bounding up and over a small ridge. Oh, it wasn’t a coyote after all. It’s time to step up the security. When rabbits show up, coyotes soon follow. Spike stares at the sky from my arms, oblivious. Man, that was one humongous bunny. No wonder he’s so big. He keeps ahead of the coyotes.
Bridget’s looking out the window at us.
Oh geez, if I don’t get us inside in the next two seconds, she’s going to start crying. We get back inside and I dish out the crew’s breakfast before setting up the percolator. “Boy, Spike, you really know how to jump-start a morning!”
After coffee, I take my cellphone outside to call Felix.
In case you haven’t read this blog from the beginning, for which, if I might add, you should feel great shame, Felix is the guy who bought my house in Georgia. I need to track down my W-2 form. The school I retired from sent it to the house as I didn’t have mail-forwarding set up at the time I retired.
“Hola, Felix! It’s Susie!”
I can tell Felix is happy to hear my voice, but then he gets serious. “I’m at the hospital. Remember my brother Transito? He’s been here for three days. They’re running tests.” He tells me Julio (his son) asks for me and then adds with his typical directness, “We need you, Susie.”
I used to translate letters, notes from Julio’s teachers, and other cryptic documents.
When English isn’t your first language, acronyms, slang expressions, and multiple word-meanings make the written word incomprehensible for people like Felix who have diligently studied and practiced the language for years. Anyway.
“Felix. Do you know what a W-2 form is?”
I want to make sure he knows what I’m talking about to avoid starting a comedy routine reminiscent of Abbott and Costello. If you don’t know who Abbott and Costello were, well, you should, so google it because I’m not going to sit here and explain “Who’s On First.”
Back to Felix and the W-2.
“Yes. It’s for tax-eez.” We arrange to talk again in a few days. That’ll give him plenty of time to turn the house upside down to find where Julio might have put the form. Julio’s a great kid, but he takes advantage of living in a one-parent home and gets into everything.
Felix asks where I am and I tell him I’m in Arizona . . . in the desert.
“Oh, Susie. You need to come back here.” I reply with “maybe someday,” although I doubt that will happen.
Tomorrow is the PTV’s appointment at the shop.
I do want to stay and see the desert come into bloom. Every day we discover new flowers. But I also want to camp in new places.
As is my style, I’ll wait and see. Maybe when the PTV is ready to tow, we’ll be ready to go!
rvsue2/16/12 . . . $0 2/17/12 . . . $0 2/18/12 . . . $0 2/19/12 . . . $0