Friday, February 15
The crew and I burst out the door to greet the day. We set off down the lane because at its end is the very best potty-bush in the Sonoran Desert, according to Spike. We start each and every day at this particular bush along the road. Perhaps coyotes have deposited here, or a succession of canines have left their mark. Only Spike knows.
Spike anoints this bush with daily regularity, leaving his messages, like he’s a dedicated blogger and this bush is his blog. Which, come to think of it, is a picturesque expression of how I feel some days when faced with writing this blog.
“Oh, p*#% on it!”
Warning: Sudden Tone Change
Out of the morning calm of the desert rises up a warm breeze, hesitant as first, and then bold and constant. I take my throw and my book out to the lounger. I turn the lounger to face the BLT so the sun will be at my back. I remove the quilt and dog bed from the PTV and place them alongside the lounger. Small, sharp rocks cover the ground at our campsite and leave no place for a dog’s behind to rest comfortably.
Bridget and Spike appreciate the accommodation and settle in beside me.
I pull the throw around my neck and shoulders to shield against the breeze. It’s a warm, desert day. The breeze becomes quite blustery. The sound of air moving through the palo verdes provides soothing white noise while I read. Not that white noise is needed here. There are four motor homes across the road from our campsite, yet all is quiet, excepting an occasional gila woodpecker. Not a sound from the missile range. I read, on and off, all day long.
Warning: Another Sudden Tone Change
Blah, blah, BLAH! That was our day. Nice for us, but, oh what painfully dull blog material. How can I blog on a day like that? I didn’t even take any photos. Hmm . . . I suppose I could pretend today is the day before yesterday.
Now that was a day of activity.
I’m hit with a burst of energy and proceed to pull everything out of the Perfect Tow Vehicle. I sweep it and sort out the stuff I don’t need to carry around, like bags of plastic for recycling and donations for the thrift shop.
I’m also bent on finding The Missing Avocado.
One day even further in the past, Olsen’s Grocery has a sale on avocados, two for a dollar. I buy two. I see the cashier place them in the bag. I get home and there’s only one avocado in the bag. Oh, I hate when that happens. Not because it represents a great financial loss, but because I keep wondering where the dang avocado went. I hate loose ends!
Which reminds me . . . One time, many, many years ago when I was very young, I drove out of a supermarket parking lot, leaving a frozen Thanksgiving turkey in a shopping cart. Did I tell you that story? Anyway . . .
Back to the avocado . . .
Did it slip out of the bag into the cart to be discovered by a poor woman with no money and no food to feed her hungry, little, barefooted children?
Did it slip out of the bag, hit the pavement and roll across the parking lot, leading to the unfortunate disabling of the kindly, but nearsighted, gentleman who happened to place one of his Easy Spirit walking shoes on it?
Did it slip out of the bag inside the PTV to be squished in my hand at a moment in the indeterminate future, as I reach under one of the seats or into the load of stuff I carry around?
Thus the energy to clean out the PTV.
I drive into Ajo, straight to the Chamber of Commerce. I’m tired of driving a garbage van. I walk in and ask, “Where does a person traveling through the area put their trash?” And . . . “Do you have a place for recyclables?”
The Chamber ladies are most cheerful and helpful as they inform me Ajo has no recycling program, but you can drive down to the landfill area and dump your plastic and trash for free. This I immediately do with a flutter of guilt over dumping plastic. It passes quickly when I see how much room I’ve reclaimed in the back of the PTV.
After that, I drive over to the St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store to drop off more stuff.
It’s closed. A man is about to pull out of the parking lot. He sees me, parks, gets out, and hurries over as I open up the back of the PTV. “I’ll help you with that, young lady,” he offers in a cheery Irish accent. I think Irish. I don’t know accents very well.
By the way, you know you’re old when people start calling you “young lady.”
And that was the day before yesterday.
Today Spike peed on the bush, the wind blew, and I read my book.
NOTE TO PEOPLE INTERESTED IN THE WILSON ANTENNA:
Another page has been added under Internet Antenna (See header.). On this page is a schematic of a Mifi air card hooked up to a Wilson antenna. Thanks again, Mick!