The Pumpkin Cheesecake Diaries: 2-1-2020

Stolen laundry soap and cross dressers

Patty and I pulled into the West Plaza Laundromat parking lot looking for a spot to accommodate my mega cab. A couple of large mesquite trees provided just the right shade to get in out of the sun. Here it is...the 1^st of February and we are seeking out shade. It was a high-five moment. YES!!

You can't just go to the Laundromat and wash a few clothes without it being an adventure. It was busier than the first time I went. All the machines in the front were taken. We headed to the back and found a couple of washers while Roy, Dale and John watched on. If you're going to be doing laundry, you might as well hang out with the best of them.

We took up three washers. I stuffed clothes in the first, grabbed my bottle of laundry soap and poured it over the clothes and mumbled something about not knowing how much to put in. A tall, blonde lady laughed and said it looked about the right amount. She should know. It was her laundry soap. I apologized all over myself and offered her mine. She said thank you anyway, but Tide makes her itch...and then she gave me her shirt. She had two shirts, one blouse and another really cute Harley Davidson long sleeve T. She said they didn't fit and she would put them in the lost and found. “Somebody always takes them.” She said. Apparently this is a common practice of hers. The Goodwill is three doors down, but lucky for me, she preferred to donate them to the laundromat. I'm not proud. I took the shirt and tossed it in the wash with the others.

I set my phone timer for 30 minutes so we could walk around and do some other errands close by before it was time to swap to the dryers. We stopped in at the Goodwill so Patty could find some pajamas. She'd forgotten hers. It must be something in the Idaho water – between my lack of underwear and her lack of PJ's, you would think we had never left home before. I'm not sure what Cindy would have thought about Patty buying PJ's from the Salvation Army. I promised not to tell. We walked to CVS for a few other items. I checked for a bottle of the laundry soup I'd stolen, but they did not sell it.

While we were gone, the tall blonde lady was joined by her companion: also tall with long, bleach blonde hair. We talked for quite a while. They are from Arizona but travel around in an RV primitive camping on State or BLM land. They got a kick out of Patty when she unknowingly used “Roy's” (the men's') bathroom. The taller of the two gals chuckled: “I never know which one to use either.”

After laundry, We ran a few other errands in Wickenburg before heading back to camp. It was fun showing Patty around. It made me feel less like the newbie helping somebody out for a change. We opted to cut our errands short and get back in time to ride before the day was over.

It was close to 2:00PM when we saddled up to ride the State Land behind Crandall's. Patty rode her mare, Mocha and I rode Jack. He does better with mares than J'Lo. Besides, Mocha is a fast walker. She out walks Jack. She would leave J'Lo and me in the dust. We long trotted most of the way in. Actually Mocha long trotted...Jack is a terrible long trotter and would rather lope. I don't know why. I don't care either way – he has a smooth lope.

We rode west up the power-line road to the top of the saddle. In the far distance you could see a few RV's parked here and there. Patty wondered if one of them could be the nice lesbian couple from the laundromat. I said I didn't think so. Patty asked what made me think it wasn't them? I said because the couple we saw weren't lesbians. Patty said, “Sure they are. She kept calling her partner hon and babe.” “Yeah, I know,” I said, “But one of them was a man.”

Seems like there is a label for everything. Especially when it comes to a persons relationship status. In the eyes of society, you are either a straight couple, a gay couple, a lesbian couple or a trans-gendered couple. You might be married, shacking up or in a domestic partnership. I don't know what label society would put on the couple from the laundromat. If I had to give them one, I would label them a happy couple. Who am I to judge a man who is more comfortable in women's clothing. Heck, if it weren't for Cindy, I'd be wearing dollar store underwear to the laundromat.

At one point during our ride, Patty got this far-off look in her eye and a peaceful sort of half smile lit up her face: “I can't believe I'm here.” I know that look. I know that feeling. I still can't believe I'm here, either...but I'm sure glad we are.