Hanging Drapes

The other day Dean needed to work late and since our other car is still sitting patiently out front of the mechanic’s shop (that would be over six weeks now – not that I’m counting) I had gone home and then come back later with our “boy” to pick him up.  We'd started back toward home when I heard a loud rustling in the back of the car.  I checked the rear view mirror and Angus had apparently decided his “dad” was too far away from him and had attempted to crawl into the back seat.  He didn’t make it. 

So there we were.   Angus was draped over the seat back, half in front, half in back.  I was driving 60 mph and Dean was up on his knees facing toward the back of the car, leaning as far as he could over the back of his seat grabbing onto whatever parts of Angus he could reach and trying to pull the rest of him into the back seat.  When that didn't work he tried to push the front half back into the cargo area.  That didn't work either.  And of course before he tried either I made him “take some pictures!” which he attempted, but all he took were videos of sideways car windows and lopsided car ceilings and spinning blurs of black fur.  (I had to take the photos you’re looking at once we’d finally stopped). 

It turns out pushing or pulling even half of a 72 pound dog over a seat back isn’t as easy as you might think.  About halfway through the trip Dean finally just gave up.  Since we needed to stop for dog food on the way home and our office is at one end of town and the dog food is at the other end, it meant Angus spent about 20 minutes dangling over the seat back.  He didn’t seem to mind.  There was no struggling or whining or frantic scraping at the seat back with sharp toenails.  Every time I glanced at the rear view mirror he was patiently hanging over the seat back, looking at us with big brown eyes, until we eventually were able to once again join his front legs to his back.

I’ve been feeling like Angus a lot over the past year – like I’m hanging half in and half out.  Half of my life and furniture are in the future – Sheridan.  And half of my life and furniture are in the present – Casper.  I don't know if  you've noticed but I’ve been struggling to adjust to retirement and moving and a new life in a new place while living in the limbo in between.  Sometimes there has even been some whining.  But I think maybe what I need to do is be more like Angus.  I need to wait patiently until both halves come together ... and just hang.

◦

Hanging Drapes

Sometimes Words Are Better

Picture this.  I link my arm with Dean’s and he leans into me.  He is weak and unsteady.  His eyes are barely focusing as I lead him, shuffling, to the truck where Jorge and Abby are waiting.  I help him as he slowly lowers himself into the front passenger seat and then join Abby in the back.  Jorge eases the truck into traffic.  Dean is curled into himself, arms cradling his head.  With every small bump he moans.   We have at least three hours of moaning ahead of us, if not more.  I see Jorge look over at Dean with a deeply furrowed brow and his already tense shoulders stiffen a little bit more.   Abby and I look at each other with worry.  Jorge drives slowly to avoid any jostling and resulting moaning but some bumps are unavoidable and the highway has lots of tight curves.   I don’t think Dean even realizes he is making those sounds.  After a while Abby tells Jorge to drive fast and just get us there.  That was our last day in Ecuador.

But the day before our last day in Ecuador was great.  Other than the fact that I never seem to believe Abby when she says I need to bring something warm to wear.  It’s Ecuador.  Who needs warm clothes?  We all did.  Because we visited Cajas National Park which is somewhere between 10,000 and 14,000 feet high and it’s cold.  It’s bone-chilling cold.  It’s what the heck was I thinking by not bringing anything warm to wear cold.  It’s I don’t care if I look stupid wearing this sweater on my head cold. 

 But it’s also very beautiful.  

Before we left for Ecuador I printed maps of the trails within the park thinking we’d do some hiking.  But hiking is not as enjoyable when your teeth are chattering.   And it’s hard to keep your balance on a trail when your arms are wrapped around your body like you are in a perpetual self-hug.  

But if I am ever in this park again and I have listened to Abby and brought something to keep the rain off as well as my winter boots and ski pants and multiple layers of sweaters and a real coat and ear bands and scarves and mittens and hand warmers and wool socks and it’s not snowing or raining … I’m going hiking. 

After our mini-hike we took our frozen bodies to a restaurant for lunch not far from the park

 

where the first thing they bring you is a warm alcoholic drink so you can stop shivering long enough to hold a menu.  

But I was so frozen that trying to warm my body with one small drink was like trying to melt a glacier with a blow torch. I don’t think I warmed up until about 11 p.m. that night.  Just about the time Dean was throwing off the covers before he ran to worship his own porcelain god after he came down with what we now think was the Norovirus I “shared” with him. 

You don’t want to picture that.  But for more pictures of the park and our trip you can go here.

◦

Sometimes Words Are Better

Surprise! -- Update

And it was 25 MILES from town, not hours -- although this last six hours have felt like 25.◦

Surprise! -- Update

Surprise!!

Dean's just left to meet the tow truck driver who is bringing our Subaru back to town and dropping it at our trusty mechanic's business.  We were about 20 miles outside of Casper this morning on our way to a weekend in Sheridan when our 14-year old Subaru decided it had other plans for us and used its only means of communication to inform us of this by blowing its head gasket.  As we were parked along the exit to "Girls, Girls, Girls!" we called every tow truck I Googled only to find it would be a two-hour wait at the minimum.  So we begged a ride back from Leslie's very generous father-in-law who dropped everything to drive out, pick us up and bring us back home where we waited for the tow truck driver to call and say he was nearing town. 

While we were waiting we needed something to do other than pace so we did a little furniture rearranging downstairs.  Remember back here when I accidentally discovered where the kitties had "stored" all their toys?  They've been missing again for months.  Every now and then I've pulled out the dresser to see if they've all collected underneath once again but nary a one ever appeared.  I had come to the conclusion that Angus had eaten them all.  He does have colorful poop on occasion after all.

I was wrong. 

 

 

Well ... Dean just walked in.  I now know we were 25 hours from town because the tow truck driver told him.  And once he's unloaded our nine year old Honda with the stuff he moved from the Subaru that should be in Sheridan right now taking us to a fundraiser at the brewery where we planned to drink beer and listen to music ... we will be drinking a "free" soda and listening to car dealers. 

At least somebody is having fun today.

◦

Surprise!!

Please Don’t Taaaaake My Sunshine Away ♪♫

A barometer is a scientific instrument used in meteorology to measure atmospheric pressure. Pressure tendency can forecast short term changes in the weather. Numerous measurements of air pressure are used within surface weather analysis to help find surface troughs, high pressure systems, and frontal boundaries.

I am a human barometer.  I measure sunshine. These sunlight measurements forecast short term changes in my climate.  Changes may occur quickly and often.  This winter season has been seriously short on sunshine and I have spent most of my time in a trough – a butt trough on the couch.  Now and then the clouds will part, I will be showered in sunshine and, in a microburst of energy, I will accomplish all kinds of things in a whirlwind of activity.

Unfortunately for my equilibrium level, clouds reappear, the sky becomes overcast, the sun disappears and it either snows more or the wind blows harder or it gets even colder – or all three.  That's when I crawl from the trough toward a frozen depression – and bake.  I bake sandwich bread and dinner rolls and kolaches and cookies and brownies and muffins – because baking is warm and comforting.  And then I eat what I baked.  

I need sunshine. The extended outlook isn't good. That trough in the couch is getting snug.

◦

Please Don’t Taaaaake My Sunshine Away ♪♫

Mo' Joe Please

After we waved goodbye to pina coladas, the beach and the sandflies (I completely forgot to mention those in my last post) we spent the next three days lounging at Abby and Jorge’s home in Quevedo.  And when I say lounging, I mean literally sitting on our butts ― on the couch, in the hammock, out in the yard ― reading, playing on the computer, or petting Navy Bean the cat or Maggie the dog while Abby scurried around cooking us breakfast and lunch and dinner and washing our laundry and generally just catering to us.  I did feel some twinges of guilt now and then, like when I had to lift my feet so she could sweep under me, but I pretty much just thought, “maybe this letting your kids take care of you in your old age thing won’t be so bad after all.”  

 







When we weren’t being total slugs we went with them to their favorite haunts.  Now when Abby tells me they ate lunch at Ninos or dinner at El Toro or she just got back from grocery shopping at the mall or they spent the afternoon walking Maggie along the river ...

 

... I can picture where they are.  It helps me pretend they are closer to me.




















 We left Quevedo and drove up into the highlands through some of the most beautiful scenery you could ever see on our way to Cuenca.  Our hotel was across the street from one of the many cathedrals that fill the city.  The morning after we arrived, I laid in bed and listened to the muted singing of the worshipers as it began to slowly swell and flow from the cathedral into my room.  After having spent all night kneeling on hard, cold tile worshiping The Porcelain God, the peaceful blending of their voices soothed and comforted me.  Abby and Jorge brought me flowers and mints and medicine and Gatorade and wrinkled their brows in worry.   I did walk around a bit during the afternoon but that pretty much took it out of me so instead of getting to see this with Abby and Jorge and Dean as they walked to dinner, I sat in bed and ate a dry roll.

At least I didn't miss the largest, brightest, most sparkly Christmas nativity scene ever.

The day I managed to find the strength to go shopping I saw two medicine women in the market.  I wasn’t sure if they were healing people or warding off future illness but whichever it was, people were lined up waiting for the opportunity to be slapped with a bunch of herbs that smelled so strong my eyes nearly watered even though I was standing several feet away.  After my recent infirmity I was still feeling a bit green about the gills but I figured if being whacked about the body and head by a bunch of herbs would make me feel better I was all for it, even if it meant standing in line with shaky legs.  And then I saw one of the healers take a large drink of some special liquid and spew it out straight into the face of her patient―and I changed my mind.  

If only we'd pushed Dean to the front of the line for some protective mojo........

Want to see more of Cuenca?  You can bore yourself to tears here.
◦

Mo' Joe Please