Adventure 961: Point Ruston, Tacoma/74

We left with the chickens from Hines, OR and traveled on straight trafficless roads for most of our traverse through Oregon. We were glad to leave the desert sage brush, especially when the line of mountains peeked their white tops out from the Western skyline near Madras. The Three Sisters, Mt. Adams, Mt Jefferson, what's left of Mt. St. Helens, and of course, the majestic Mt Hood all presented us with an up lift of God's glory. That's not to say God didn't bless the sage brush desert lands with glory, and for sure when we were ensconced in bumper to bumper  I-5 traffic later in the day we had to redefine God's glory. Nevertheless, we arrived safely at our daughter's home in Damascus where we enjoyed a scrumptious lunch, and later to our friend's home in Point Ruston, which to say the least, is magnificent. We enjoyed chatter, dinner, after dinner chatter, and the realization that life is good, especially today.

Mt. Hood was a pleasant sight after many miles crossing the Southern desert lands.

One view of our daughter, Angela's tiny home.

She prepared a delicious lunch of roasted vegetables for lunch.

Yummy good.

Deb and Ed Drouin coming to meet us.

The girls.

Deb and Ed's condo building. There they are in the middle of the seventh floor.

The view from their living room window.

Deb served us a very rich and delicious beef stew for dinner.

A picture from Deb's phone when Mt. Rainier is out.

And one from the evening. Drop dead gorgeous.

Deb and Ed: we're lucky to call them friends.

Adventure 960: Burns, OR/73

Who would have thought the scenery could be any more dismal than skimming the edge of Death Valley, but today we traveled nine hours through the very bowels of Nevada. The only good news is that it was so much cooler that our air conditioning kept up much better than the day before. Boo Hoo! Such a plethora of first world problems. Suffice to say we were once again blessed with traveling mercies, and we arrived in time to spend an hour soaking in some delightfully soft and hot spring water. So, basically, life is again good, especially today.

The big outdoor pool didn't appeal to my Bunny: too much sun.

We chose a private tub where we could regulate the temperature of the water.

I nudged the temperature up a little over 104 degrees. Perfect as they say.

Even my puppies thought it felt good.

I concur.

We're staying at a more traditional motel tonight, though it's family owned and named after the children.

The middle of Southern Oregon is home to ostensibly "Salt of the Earth folk". Let freedom ring, and let's hope the price of fertilizer has some effect on the local farmers.

Poem of the day:

JUST SO OFTEN

Serendipity 

sometimes

rises like

the bill of a swan

nuzzling 

its mate.

Most times

years swim by:

missed

opportunities.

But just so often

chance meetings

align.

Assuring wonder

filled possibilities.

 

Adventure 959: Goldfield, NV/72

Thanks to traveling mercies we passed easily through Phoenix and even more smoothly through Las Vegas. We endured the empty desolate edges of Death Valley on the way to Goldfield, NV, a ghost town that in its heyday produced 706,000 ounces of gold, and once boasted a population over 20,000. Today, less than 300 live among the tattered buildings, visible slag heaps, rusted car husks, tilted weather warn wooden buildings, and the wispy aura of distant memory. They say that there are ghosts in town, which is fitting for a place that hangs its hat on a ghost town reputation. Our little Air B&B is cute and we even did the local thing of bar hopping between the two local watering holes, one of which claims to be the oldest bar of continuous operation in Nevada. According to one of the bartenders, the local K-8 school services about fifty children who then finish high school about thirty miles away in Toponah. We cooked some Floridian Chili from our freezer stock for dinner on the single hot plate provided. We're fat, happy, and currently enjoying the hum of the air conditioner, which means that life is good, especially today.

My Bunny peeking out of her digs for the night.

Springy bed.

The gas stove is a desert mirage. Hot plate works well.

Some glass art in the back room window.

The rumor is that this is Elizabeth, a mistress of one of the original corporate sleaze balls. They say she haunts the hotel.

Reportedly, the oldest bar in Nevada.

Selfie of the day: Bar hoppers.

Bunny may not feel comfortable, but I'm right at home on a stool.

Make an offer. Another gold boom is right around the corner.

What's a mining town without a naked babe?

Adventure 958: Last Hurrah, Tucson 2025/71

I'm not sure how Judy said good bye to her trainer, Rob, but I gave genuine hugs to Sifu and Magdalena before and after my last Tai Chi lesson. We spent the day packing, cleaning the house, and generally walking around among the wispy mist of nostalgia. For dinner, our good friends, the Kral's treated us to a pleasant dinner out at  a popular Mexican style restaurant called Guadalajara. Dinner was good, the company better, and afterward we walked to the nearby middle school to watch the sunset. In the warmth of the evening, all I could think that good friends and good fortune find us grateful that life is good, especially today.

This view from Amy's back yard might be this year's screen saver. While we haven't yet left, we're eager to return.

I slurped this giant margarita (with Judy's help) tonight at dinner.

Ginny and Judy atop the bleachers watching the sun set in the West.

Ginny and David's neighbor snapped this shot of us enjoying the last light of the day.

We even got to see this little band of javelina's scamper by.

Just a bit of a curling cloud sinking into the evening.

All clean and ready for Amy to move back in.

Car packed and ready for an early morning departure.

I've left room for these to guys, tucked in a safe space for the trip home.

Poem of the day:

PETALS

As we age

the things we thought

pleasurable

fall away

like wilted petals.

We may think:

She loves me not.

He loves me not.

They love me not.

The detritus

lays strewn

in memories

trailing us

like shadows.

But if our loves

truly pleasured

us

the memories sustain

like well turned phrases.

After which we may utter,

“They loved me then.

They love me still.”

Always and forever,

Just as we thought;

Just as we live. 

Adventure 957: The Tucson Slathering Continues/70

It's the week of lasts. We attended church yesterday for the last time this year in Tucson. This morning we volunteered for the last time this year at Cross Street. Tomorrow, I'll have my last Tai Chi lesson in Tucson for this year, and Judy will work out with her trainer, Rob, for the last time. Yesterday afternoon and into the evening we attended the last part of the 40th annual Tucson Folk Festival. What we heard tickled our fancies to the last bone. One of the performers we listened to, Kenny White, said this line: "You brush up against fate at least once a day; at night you chase ghosts." We'll be chasing ghostly memories all the way home, but they'll be Caspers, gentle little "BOOS" that make us smile. In the meantime, we're beginning to pack, beginning to clean, and beginning tingle with the expectation of resuming our life in Spokane. I guess what they say is true, "Home is where the heart is." At any rate, for us life is good, especially today.

Kenny White and Cheryl Wheeler, very talented musicians: witty, entertaining, socially conscious, and immensely entertaining.

Selfie of the day: My Bunny and me snuggled up near the front just left of the stage. I didn't meet the photo bomb guy.

Heather Lil' Mama Hardy, rocking out. A local, she's an incredible fiddler with a great voice and a hot band.

Over four hundred musicians performed during the weekend. We sampled just a small taste.

The place was so packed when we got there we had to watch Missy Anderson and her One man Band (Husband Heine) from behind the sound/video console.

Just taking in one last wistful gaze down the wash.

Our land lady, Amy, a fellow rabble rouser at the Saturday Morning protest. She said she was in the audience at the Folk Festival, too, but we didn't see her. We grateful for her.

Poem of the day.

THAT’S ALL

That’s all we want, right?

To know a place

has been saved

for us.

A little belonging:

To know there’s room

for us

at the table.

That’s all we want, right?

A helping hand:

To know there’s a hand up

for us

like a Scout’s honor.

That’s all we want, right?

A little love:

To know there’s an open heart

for us

to hold close.

That’s all we want, right? 

Adventure 956: Tucson Slathering/69

In our last days here we've been slathering ourselves with as much Tucson as we can. We hiked a last hike. We enjoyed a fabulous dinner at Tito and Pep's. We shared a burger at a new place, Redbird. We protested with thousands of our fellow rabble rousers. Judy paid off last month's cribbage debt at Barrio Barista where we enjoyed hot coffee and a nice breakfast burrito. We took in an Arizona Women's softball game, and we spent a nice evening watching hoops with our friends, Krals. Tucson feels  like home now, but truth be told we're ready for the trek back to the Northwest. In so many more ways than we can count, life is good, especially today. 

Sadly, the home team lost in the last inning. Quite impressive women on both teams.

Arizona is ranked 13th; Oklahoma State 16th. Good game.

One of the sights at the protest. WARNING: POEM OF THE DAY IS FOR MATURE AUDIENCES.

STAR*

Just

as He said

He would-

On day one

He grabbed

our nation

by the pussy 

because

“When You’re a STAR they let You.”

He thrust His greedy fingers inside:

some of the pussies cried, 

some of the pussies bowed,

some of the pussies cowed,

some of the pussies complied,

But none of the pussies pried

His fingers away 

because 

“When You’re a STAR they let You.”

His fingering squirted 

a mess all over the place.

But late at night He crowed,

"I think the pussies like it."

We're all monkeys in this circus. My favorite signs read: WE SHALL OVER COMB & WHEN THE POOR RUN OUT OF FOOD, THEY'LL JUST EAT THE RICH.

Really? Our Vice-President.

Selfie of the day: Basking in the sun in the left field bleachers.

The entrance to the softball stadium.

We split a quite delicious classic Redbird burger, which was suggested by friends.

Art on the wall of one of our previous discoveries, Barrio Barista.

 

The Wiley Cager won this game. New month. New leader.

A little port to finish complement the desert cake. As pleasing as my very cute date.

The Olive Oil cake infused with orange essence.

We shared a boneless chicken grilled over mesquite. Out standing.

We loved this beet salad on our last visit, so we enjoyed a reprise.

And for starters, this raw tuna dressed in a jalapeño strawberry sauce. Needless to say, our indulgence left of satisfied.