rvsue and her canine crew

On a lark I try my television.

Last time I tried there was no reception.  I press the button on the 12v outlet that activates the antenna, plug in my 400 watt inverter, plug the television into the inverter, and turn it on.  A quick channel search finds three channels!  One is Spanish and two are English.  The Lawrence Welk Show is bubbling along (orange polyester suits!), but soon the Saturday night movie begins.  It’s a good one called Goodbye Again (1961) with Ingrid Bergman, Yves Montand, and Anthony Perkins. 

Walking the crew at sunrise, I can see it’s going to be a beautiful day.

The sky is a clear blue and there’s no wind.  I’ve been feeling off-kilter the past few days. I’ve lost my equilibrium.  I’ve been making a conscious effort to restore my peace of mind.  Nature helps. Rick seems to be experiencing negativity, too.  His words have rolled around in my mind more than once since he spoke them a few days ago while returning from a walk with Lady.  “This place is getting too crowded.  I can see I’m going to have to leave in about two weeks.  It’s starting to close in on me.”  I know that feeling.

Walking the desert at sunrise is great therapy. 

I discover some new, small mounds of tender plants that have sprung up between some stones.  The usual, it’s-good-be-alive antics of the crew always make me feel light-hearted again. 

I smile remembering how Spike started his day. 

He likes to scratch his back by lying belly up, kicking his hind legs in the air, and twisting.  I warn him, “Spikey, you’re going to fall off the bed doing that.”  Sure enough, one wiggle too many and he flips over the edge, landing perfectly on all fours.  He stands still for a moment as if wondering, “How’d I get down here?”  If he could talk, I bet he’d say, “Uh, I meant to do that.” 

The crew and I make a trip into town.

First stop is the Chamber of Commerce.  I fill up my water jugs at the spigot out front.  Then I dump my trash in the dumpster in the parking lot.  After that I stop at Family Dollar for some laundry detergent and pedicure equipment.  My feet look like I’ve been running barefoot across the Australian Outback.   The final stop is Olsen’s IGA store.  A regular can of Maxwell House Coffee . . . $6.19!  Kraft’s Grated Parmesan Cheese . . . $5.49!  I throw the stuff in my basket, and remind myself I pay no rent in a lame attempt to neutralize the pain. 

I must have acquired “desert ear.” 

My grocery shopping experience is not fun.  Loud music pierces the air.  Some woman who’s managed to develop the dubious talent of combining a high-pitched screech with a full-force yell is tearing holes in my eardrums.  I scan the shelves with my hands on my ears. By the time I make it to check-out, I’m reeling. 

Later I ask Rick if he’s had a similar experience.  Without missing a beat he explains, “Oh yeah.  It’s the weekend and the manager’s not there.  The lunatics are running the asylum.”   Boy, he really knows how to summarize a situation!

By afternoon the sun is hot.

In Arizona, once you’re out of the direct sun in some shady spot like the back side of the trailer, the air is quite a bit cooler.  I open the window on the shady side and that cool air wafts over the bed.  Oh, I think I’ll lie down and plan my next move.  I fall into a delicious nap, the kind I haven’t had in a long time.

Supper is a green leaf salad with cukes, radishes, and a mound of Olsen’s potato salad, followed by one of those measly snack-packs of orange jello. Oh why didn’t I buy that pie?

I’m disappointed that I don’t have more photos in this entry.  It took twenty minutes to insert that cactus pic. 

The crew is pestering me for a walk.  The sun is low in the sky.  When we return from our walk, I’ll see if my television reception is still good.  If not, I’ve got a backlog of books on my kindle.

rvsue