Adventure 118: Valley of the Sun/Kralazona Hotel/Post G

We are about to eat this willingly.

Holy Wiebe Jeebie Heebie Freebie! She's done it again. We've taught our hosts, the Krals, to play cribbage (Wily Cagers vs Innocent Bystanders), and low and behold the cager pulled a new one: after the fact peg grabbing, a new low. She batted her baleful eyes and cooed sweetly as she grabbed two points, "You remember that Jack of Hearts Ginny turned over on her last deal, don't you?" Really??? But of course, the Mauser is tucked safely away in Douglas' garage at Priest Lake, and even though every one here in Arizona owns at least three guns plus the pea shooters they save for coyotes, I don't know any of them well enough to ask them to become accessories (Maybe after the Super Bowl party I'll endear myself to some to some of my newest red state friends). As for now, I was left (As usual) unarmed by the wily one. Nonetheless, I lead the Tucson series 8-3 (No wonder she's pulling out the stops). So it goes.Today marked a change in the desert weather. A cold front edged itself in with strong winds which raised warnings of Habooks (Dust clouds) from here to Phoenix. Tomorrow, they even predicted a possibility of rain. That remains to be seen, but we've become accustomed to twenty degree temperature changes on this trip. Regardless, we enjoyed another splendid day with Ginny and David. This morning Judy and Ginny attended a women's bible study while David attended to some errands. I drove out to check on Frac. We then enjoyed a true Tucson culinary experience: the Sonoran Hotdog. Imagine a truly beef hotdog encased in a soft warm bun smothered with onions, relish, mayonnaise and mustard accompanied by smoked jalapeños, pickled radishes, grilled green onions, cool cucumbers, all washed down with Coca Cola imported from Mexico (Sugar vs corn syrup). The rumblings in my stomach (We ate at 1 P.M. It's now 9 P.M.) resemble the threat of Vesuvius, which as we know erupted before seismographs. This is not to say I wasn't warned. I chortled in absolutely delightful glee as I willingly smashed the luscious dog into my face (Unfortunately, one of many things I regret). Maybe I went over the top when I bought the bag of "Churros" (Deep fried dough sticks smothered in sugar). Who knows? I just feel like a plump piñata, and I'll stop now lest the imagery scare the women. Tomorrow, Ginny and Judy will spend a day together without the 'boys'. We'll be at a men's retreat at David's church. And after we cheer for our team in Sunday's Super Bowl (Go Seahawks), we'll move onward, thankful for every moment. I often glibly say, in some non philosophical way, that I enjoy every day because there is no guarantee I'll get  a tomorrow. I'm reminded right now of my mindset in the aftermath of my wife's death, the ordeal of my daughter's chemotherapy, the sudden death of my mother due to post surgical complications, and any or all of the sufferings my friends, close relatives, and even the injustices done to strangers. Well meaning people would ask me, "How are you doing?" My mind (An amazing thing) would instantly dart down fifty billion or so dark tunnels (Mostly dead ends), and then I would consider whether they really wanted to know, or if they were just following convention. Mostly, I would give the short answer: Life is good, especially today. But some times I'd give the long answer…. Neither answer changed reality, but I'm not one to say, "Why me? Instead, I've always said, "What now?" Not 'What now?' as a wail against misfortune (You know-Oh, Shit, What Now?), but 'What now?' (You know, What are my options with what is left now?) as a response to the gift of life because despite the inevitable sorrows and the depths of helplessness we  all encounter, I truly believe life is good, especially today.

 This Mexican restaurant, famous for its Sonoran Hotdogs, is busy all day long.

 Outside the restaurant, this cutie and her husband (Third generation) were selling Churros as out of their food truck.

 These are basically Mexican donuts, but they're shaped like French Fries, ribbed like Saguaro Cacti, and smothered in granulated sugar like pollen on a flower. Best eaten hot: $5 for a bagful.

 This Saguaro has the most limbs I've seen. 

 Y is a hard question to answer.

 Upon examination, most things are prickly.

 The desert has a bit of a Zen feel.

 There are repeated patterns, beautiful to the eye, harsh to the touch.

 There is symmetry.

 It's almost as if there is safety in numbers.

 There are outliers.

 There is the complete absence of continuity.

 There is mixed media.

 And there is a sense of sameness, the inexplicable beauty of conformity.

 There are variations on the theme.

 And divergence.

 And succulence.

 And there is always the promise of yearning, the reaching, the grasping, the clenching. What else is life if not the holding fast (Langston Hughes)?