Wow
– it's been three months since I've took the time to blog. A lot
has happened in three short months. To catch up would require a
medium more towards the novel end of writing as opposed to a quick
blog. Thus – I shall attempt to summarize the previous three months
according to the short notes I jotted down in a diary of sorts.
The
following notes were those I felt blog worthy at a future time. It's
a lot like trying to explain something that was really funny at the
time but loses most of it's appeal as you recount it later to your
friends. Kind of had to be there...but here goes:
Sometime
in October: Quick trip to Home Depot for cones to use as target
stands. Trying to find help at the Home Depot in Surprise is like
trying to capture a clear picture of Bigfoot. It ain't happening.
Shopping wears me out. Home Depot does not sell Fireball. It should.
October
24th was an eclectic day. I spent the morning plumbing the
shed for the washer. Plenty of swearing and three trips to Adolfo's
for various parts needed. Later that morning, a nice ride up the
Harquahala trail towards the observatory. Afterwards, I spent the
afternoon digging a drain for the washer until dark. That project
only took 1 trip to Adolfo's and less swearing. Adolfo's doesn't sell
Fireball either. They should.
The
next day I installed the pipe for the washer machine drain and ran
into Adolfo's for clothing line and eye hooks. Back at the
ranch, I washed my first load of clothes! Watching the rinse water
flow successfully down the drain pipe was like reaching a state
of Nirvana - if I was Buddhist...which I'm not. I would have celebrated but Adolfo's still does not sell
fireball. I doubt Buddhist drink Fireball. Maybe they should.
It
appears I did nothing for the months of November and December as my
notes ended on October 31st with finding several cans of Beanee Weenee's on a shelf
at the Dollar
Store. They don't, however, sell Fireball. They should.
 |
| Me, Dave, Cindy, Teri |
I
spent Thanksgiving week in Tombstone for the Tombstone Ghost Riders
shoot. The club puts on an outstanding shoot and serves up
Thanksgiving dinner for the shooters. Jack and I took second on the
first day and won first place on the second day. They do sell
Fireball just about anywhere in Tombstone but I'm there for the
Prickly Pear Margarita's. As I should be.
December: I
don't like to travel for the Holiday's so opted to stay put and watch
Dan and Teri's critters so they could spend time with family. Before
they left, Cindy and Dave threw together a neighborhood Christmas
party. We ate, played corn-hole, drank various adult beverages and
howled at the moon. Literally. I've said it before – if I'd have
known being old was this much fun, I would have done it a long time
ago.
Throw
in some balloon killing, riding, hiking...fixing stuff and becoming
an official, card carrying Arizonian and that's it in a nutshell.
It's been a mental, physical and emotional roller-coaster for sure.
Nights often find me wondering: “What the hell have I done?” It's
dark and oh-so quiet. Eerily quiet. The only sound breaking that
silence is the yipping, howling call of the coyote pack trying to
lure my dog astray. Hank hates coyotes. My usually mild, passive dogs
turns immediately into 30 pounds of snarling, black and white
hackles. His sole purpose at this moment is to protect his pack from
the demonic desert jackal. Where there is one...there are many. A dog
is no match for a pack. I keep him close.
It
is an adjustment....this life I am leading. Living off the grid – a
thousand miles from family. No house to speak of, yet oddly, I
somehow feel more at home in this 30 foot RV than I ever felt in a
2600 square foot log house. I am supposed to be here. I have no idea
why.
