MOON OVER WICKENBURG
I spent the
majority of the day mooning the greater Wickenburg populace.
Somewhere along the battery debacle, I managed to sit in battery
acid. Who knew it takes less acid to burn the seat out of a
favorite pair of jeans than it does to keep the lights on.
Fortunately for all of Wickenburg and myself...I have not made the
wardrobe decision to go commando. Some days are diamonds...some days
your ass is exposed to everyone in Tractor Supply.
I got up at 6:00
AM bright eyed and bushy tailed (bare tailed, actually), fed the
horses, knocked the ice out of the dogs water and was on the road by
7:30 AM. I didn't want to be late for the Kenda Clinic at Ben Avery.
I also wanted to be there ahead of time to warm Jack up since I
intended to ride him in the clinic.
Even though the
temps had risen to 40° - the wind was relentless. It felt like 20°.
Messages flew back and forth between the shooters attending the
course. Since Lynn, Kyle (recent retiree and shooter from Montana)
and I were the only ones at Ben Avery that early, Kenda asked us how
the weather looked. I responded it was colder than a penguins butt in
January. I had yet to discover the cause of the frigid breeze fanning
my own ass or could have said it's colder than a snowbirds butt in
February.
It was agreed to
postpone the clinic to another day. Lynn and I got in for the
Thursday clinic. The delay is likely a blessing in disguise.
Tombstone is showing night time temps in the teens. I didn't drive
980 miles to frost bite either set of cheeks in Southern Arizona. I
can get that in Idaho.
Our plan now
(subject to change. One must be flexible if one is to be a snowbird)
is to attend the clinic on Thursday and drive to Tombstone Friday
morning. Night time temps should be back up into the mid to upper
30's by then.
AutoZone called
back and said they think they got my battery saga straightened out.
That's good...because the State of Oregon has managed to screw up my
retirement distribution to the tune of...a lot. I cannot live on
$125.00 for the month of February. Not even if I hunt javelina three
times a day and burn grease-wood for heat; contrary to what people
think about Arizona, the desert gets dang cold at night. How cold you
ask? Colder than a Snowbirds butt in February.
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