Fifteen, do I hear sixteen?

Today is our fifteenth wedding anniversary. It's been a good, good, day. Even my worst days have been made better by Eric. And the best days... well.. who has words to describe days like that?

I just asked Eric if he had anything to say to the blogosphere, and he asked me to read what I had already written. I did. And this is what he had to say:

That's all she wrote.

I guess it is!

Correction

It's a detail that few of you would recognize as incorrect, but my good good husband has procured me roadside internet access so that I can tell you that my father is in Balmorhea next to his sister, and a marker for his mother, who is interred in Romance, Arkansas.

That's all.

Mission, Part A, Accomplished

These volunteer sweet peas were growing where the house that my father shared with his brother in Balmorhea, Texas used to be. They made me think of my mother, who grew beautiful, beautiful, sweet peas -- my favorite flower -- in the yard of our family home in Southern California.

We walked a few blocks looking for the house... doubting ourselves and then shaking our heads. It should be right here on one of these two blocks... a corner lot... the big pecan tree in the front yard.

We ran into the local Justice of the Peace, who told me that he knew "Popeye" (my father's childhood nickname) very well. But none of the people I knew are still in Balmorhea, the small west Texas town where my father grew up and passed away -- with a roughly 40-year stay in California in between.

I really wanted to visit Balmorhea one more time. My mother and my brother Mark's ashes are nowhere, or everywhere (depending on how you want to look at it). But my father is somewhere... he's in the cemetery in Balmorhea... and even though I'm not a sentimental person, and I believe that death is the ultimate period-at-the-end-of-the-sentence-story-over X-out... I wanted to go there.

We turned right at Victor's gas station and started the short drive into the country (there's just a little bit of town and whole lot of country there), to the cemetery. I recognized soooo many names in that cemetery: Pittman, Kingston, Crenshaw... they were the names of my childhood dinner table, from my father's stories.

There was something unexpected at my father's headstone:

Someone had piled stones at his headstone, and placed an aluminum foil wrapped Maxwell House coffee can. There were incense sticks in the can... as if someone had come there many times and burned incense for my father. I didn't see anything similar on anyone else's grave

I have no idea who it was, but I'm glad they did.

In the months following my mother's death, my dad and I would sit up together. One night he told me that he had been lonely every day of his life before marrying my mother. He said that he thought I'd understand -- that he figured I was a lonely person, too. And I was.

He's next to his parents and sister, my Aunt Helen. There are wildflowers in the cemetery. And scrub, of course, and hard-packed ground... roadrunners and rabbits and in the distance there are hills. It may be a cliche, but it was peaceful. Eric and I each placed a pretty polished rock on his grave. I'm very, very, happy that we were there.

I carry my father with me in my chin & fingers & toes, in the way I describe the world, in the root of the stories I tell.

Yeehaw

It's another busybusy day. Last night we saw the bats flying from Carlsbad Caverns. It was an impressive sight. This morning we went back to Carlsbad Cavern National Park -- we never pass an opportunity to explore a cave, even if our exploration is relegated to the very beaten path.



I found the park beautiful, but not in the glorious way Yosemite is beautiful, or with Yellowstone's eerie beauty, or the Grand Canyons... well... grandeur.

The land seemed inhospitable -- like a hotel in the nasty little town of Belen, New Mexico. Even the plants were literally prickly.





Here Eric is in a short outcropping of rock that was home to many people over time, from prehistoric people to the Mescalero Apache. We spent some time there thinking about what that life might have been like, and reading about the uses of the native plants.



It was impossible to take good pictures inside the caverns. The formations were awesome.

Tonight we're in the small west Texas town of Pecos. We happened upon a festival this evening, where I ate the absolute best funnel cake ever (too hot to eat when first purchased). Eric and I each bought a 50 cent ticket for a cake walk, and of course Eric won!

Here's our homemade lemon pound cake:



It was nice to see the happy families: grandparents, parents, and children together having fun, listening to music, eating corn-on-the-cob and buying tickets for the dunking tank.

The sign at the border read "Welcome to Texas! Proud home of George W. Bush"

Trying not to hold it against 'em, seeing as they gave us a cake, and all.

Enchanted, I'm Sure

After the uber-niceness of AZ, New Mexico leaves much to be desired. So far, anyway.

We wanted to avoid the great sprawl of Albuquerque by staying in the little town of Belen. Belen had a Holiday Inn Express, our on-the-road Motel of choice, and we figured it was a safe enough bet for a quick over night stay.

Boy, were we wrong!

Belen is a mean little town with a heart of steel -- several hundred tons of steel -- as Belen exists only to serve the men and women who work the trains.

Weary travelers who arrive at many of the hotels in Belen are turned away, sleepy children and pregnant mothers in tow, because some of the large chain hotels in Belen will only rent to train employees. "Better empty rooms than a DRIVER in our beds" is the unofficial motto of Belen, that angry gash of a town that bleeds into the monotony of the New Mexico desert.

We arrived at our motel (luckily, one that deigned to rent to non-train-workers) at 10:00 PM. Exhausted and hungry we turned greedily to the 24 hour diner adjacent to our hotel, only to be told that the diner is only open 24 hours a day for train workers. For the rest us, those pitiful every-people who tour our great nation's National Parks in cars, the diner closed its doors at 10:00 PM.

I had barely had a sip of coffee at my continental breakfast in the morning when I was informed that the breakfast was being shut down -- at the hour of 9:30 AM (and I was still on Arizona time)! It seems that the train workers all leave early, in the motley town of Belen.


They ain't kidding.

Our hotel did provide us with a plate of stale, brickish, cookies. At first I was confused, but soon realized that the hard disks were akin to the hard tack that the train workers tuck into their worn leather lunch bags, next to the wax paper wrapped salt pork.

The wicked town of Belen services the train workers in more ways that one. Propriety keeps me from going into detail. Still, be warned: Don't let your teenage daughters within the city limits of Belen, New Mexico.

Belen, New Mexico: Whoreish, broken, empty. Teenage boys from neighboring towns dare each other to ride their skate boards down the diesel-choked main drag. Bad little children in Albuquerque are told that if they don't straighten up, they'll be visited in their dreams by Belen Hoteliers.

The children of Albuquerque are remarkably well-behaved.

Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona

Seriously. Here's the picture:



Today was a busy day. We spent more time than we'd anticipated at the meteor crater and the Petrified Forest National Park. We listened to presentations, went for walks, watched films, and looked at the amazing landscape.

We saw fossils and chunks of metor, the ruins of a village, petroglyphs, amazing multi-colored rock formations and petrified trees.

Must sleep!

But, one final point: the people in Arizona were crazy nice. I've never seen anything like it!

Grand

We spent the day in Grand Canyon National Park, and it was soooo cool. The landscape is astonishing. It's hard to even imagine the eons & eons that passed while that muddy, 300 foot wide, Colorado River carved a canyon ten miles across (with a little help from the wind and the rain.



Don't let people tell you about the crowds at the Grand Canyon in the summer. We've braved Yosemite in peak season. The Grand Canyon was cake.



There are about 150 wild California Condors in the whoooole world, and this one swooped down so low over us at one point that I swear I could have touched it with a good ladder. Here it is considerably higher. A TEN FOOT WING SPAN, PEOPLE!



We went on a fascinating geology walk led by a park ranger -- we love that kinda thing -- and learned about those intriguing layers of rock and color.



I know I always say it, but it's always true: pictures can't do it justice. At least mine can't.



Love, love, love.

It was a great day.

G'morning

I went to the Grand Canyon during one of the rare family vacations of my youth. It made surprisingly little impression on me. I barely remember it.

I believe we went to the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff, AZ to visit my father's sister on the same trip. I think it was snowing. I'm not sure.

I would have to ask my brother Paul for confirmation. No one else who went on that holiday is still living -- not my mother, or father, or brother Mark, or Aunt Helen, or Charlie, the family dog. Charlie would likely be as fuzzy on the details as I.

How do you retrace your steps when you're not sure where you've been?

See Blog Entry Below

Yesterday (Tuesday) was another good day, as predicted. We spent the morning having loads o' fun gambling.

We enjoy playing games, and casino games are no exception. We make very small bets, which allows us to play for a long time. Having fun and being able to play for a long time without losing bunches of money is our goal. Winning is just the icing on the cake, and this time there was plenty of icing. See figure 1




Fig. 1: That's 52,850 pennies, or $528.50. And all I had to do was press a button!



We met the Las Vegas division of the family for dinner that evening. It was wonderful to see everyone... my sister-in-law & nieces & great nephews & great niece.

Spending time with them makes me happy. They're just-plain-fun AND they remind me of the good times I had growing up... holidays and family birthdays and drawing with chalk on the sidewalk.

After dinner, and more gaming, we went to a late night show at our hotel. We were comped tickets for a vampire-themed "erotic" show. It was pretty silly, but still entertaining. The eroticism didn't approach the naughtiness you'd find in a Christina Aguilara video, which was both a relief and a disappointment.

After the show we went to a 70's themed nightclub, complete with pounding disco and a light up dance floor a la Saturday Night Fever. Fun! And then more gambling! What a night!


I had to take a picture of this classic L.V. sign. Las Vegas isn't everyone's cup o' joe -- most of our friends claim to not even like the place -- but I think it's heaps o' fun.


After meeting family today for lunch we left Las Vegas. We drove for several hours through intermittently sunny and stormy desert, and saw the most amazing rainbows. We tried to take pictures, but they don't tell the whole rainbow story. See figure 2


Fig. 2: This is actually a ground-to-ground double rainbow, but you can't see it here. Rats!

When the dessert and scrub gave way to pine trees we were very, very, happy. Tonight we're in Williams, AZ, the evening air is crisp, and our summer vacation continues to rock.

All You Need Is

Yesterday was an excellent day. We made our way into Las Vegas slowly, and arrived with plenty of time to gamble and rest before attending the 10:00 PM performance of Cirque du Soleil's Love.

Eric and I sat side-by-side at the Mirage, making small slot machine bets and smiling at each other. I felt so lucky. I still do.

The theater was comfortable (an important factor for me these days) and the show was amaaaaaazing. Truly. No article, photograph, or clip could ever do it justice.

The pain from cancer is starting to return. This is not big news. I've been two months without weekly treatment -- two glorious months -- and so the familiar ache begins. My spine, my pelvis, my hip... and the first green sprouts of wheezing in my lungs.

When I was feeling so awful from treatment, I forgot what it was like to feel well. In the short time I've felt well, I forgot what it was like to feel bad.

I must be the world's simplest person.

I looked in the mirror yesterday and saw eyebrows. Somehow they'd snuck up on me. I have eyebrows and eyelashes. Isn't that a beautiful thing? And my nose doesn't bleed and my fingers aren't blistered, and and and ...

Eric's at the pool and I'm still in bed and it will be another a good good day.