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Too much has passed with out a letter and I have no reasonable explanation. Lately, I just can't seem to "get it together." I guess, if I were to go in chronological order, the next "event" that occurred since my last letter was the trip Symantha and I took to Muley Point. Wyatt wanted a chance to work on my vehicle, and I took advantage of that time to sight see with Symantha. That is a really neat place with a fantastic view.
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Getting there is also fun... You ought to try it sometime... North of St. Johns, they had a stoplight in the exact middle of nowhere. Where else but Arizona?
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Symantha wasn't feeling too good (that seems to be too common with her). She hides that sort of thing well, and I didn't know about it until it was too late. I don't believe in getting sick, but whatever she had was stronger than my belief and I was "under the weather" for the next couple of weeks. I gave up solid food for a couple of days (an effective treatment for diarrhea) and thought I was over it. Then the next morning when I stepped out of bed I fell on my face--I simply had no balance what so ever. For the next 90 minutes I experienced vertigo and nausea each time I moved my head. The sensations finally abated slightly, so I went to work, but experienced occasional "flashbacks" throughout the day. Not my idea of fun... |
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We noted a kite in a tree just below the rim, and Symantha climbed down over a 40 foot cliff to get it for me (can you believe Symantha rock climbing? Without a rope even!).
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This exertion was too much for her, and afterwards she didn't feel like partaking of the lunch she brought for us. I didn't realize she was feeling poorly or I would not have allowed her this craziness. The rescue effort was successful, and we headed back to Eagar, but she was feeling so badly that even the traditional half gallon of ice cream went by the wayside. When we arrived in Eagar, I gave the kite to Wyatt the younger.
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Ameilia, I just threw this image in, because it is phenomenal scenery and I know how much you love scenery.
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Barbara spent 6 weeks in Washington State helping care for her grandchildren while Lindsay worked. Her stay with grandchildren was both fun and frustrating. Grandmothers are seldom a match for their grandchildren. A few days after her return, she had knee surgery at the VA Hospital here in Tucson, and they kept her for two and a half weeks. Ask her about her vacations (how come I never get extended vacations like those?)
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She is finally home, but not particularly mobile yet. She gets around using a cane, crutches, or her wheel chair. She still has a fair amount of pain associated with the operation, and the prescribed painkillers are narcotics. The etymology of the word narcotic is "sleep inducer" and she is doing her share of that. Hopefully she will soon be back to normal.
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It is certainly "old news" but AJ did make it home. He has changed in many ways, and in many ways he is still the rebellious lad that left here two years ago. He has polished his skills at getting people to do things for him so, when he visits, you might want to keep your hand on your wallet...
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He managed to miss his flight (scheduled to arrive at 3:42 p.m.) but came in on a later one about 6:30. He mumbled something about "Ice on the wings," and "It's not my fault," but other than the flight from Seattle to Salt Lake City arrived after the flight from Salt Lake City to Tucson had departed, the actual reason for the delay was not immediately clear to me.
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At any rate, after several tense phone calls (believe it or not, I had and made appropriate use, of my cell phone) we took him to see the Stake President, and by the time we arrive home (shortly before midnight) he was no longer entitled to use the title, "Elder."
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On this last bicycle trip, I returned minus my pocketknife. I complained to Karren when I delivered her peaches, and she said she just happened to have a pocketknife that she had acquired several years previous, that she was anxious to give me. I replied that I was pretty fastidious about my knives, but would look at what she had. The first miracle was that she was able to find the knife. In fact she walked straight to the drawer in which it lay.
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The second miracle was that the knife was exactly what I had in mind for a replacement--a small, Western Brand, knife with three blades. It was new, still in the original box, and the price sticker read $2.50 (from which I surmise that the knife was purchased close to 25 years ago). The rest of the story is that after I washed my dirty cloths from the trip, I found the knife I thought I had lost in the bottom of the washing machine. I told Karren, but I did not return the knife she had given to me.
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Barbara acquired a lawn mower from source unknown to me, and yesterday I cut the weeds around our place. Historically, I don't get along well with two stroke engines, nor the devices they support, and that lawn mower was no exception. We have had a particularly wet summer, and the grass and weeds varied between 14 and 20 inches. That, coupled with the hidden junk and the fact that the machine experienced 6 breakdowns, resulted in the task requiring most of the day.
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The first problem was that the adjustment on the rear wheels failed, such that the back of the mower housing (that covers the blade) was dragging on the ground. I fixed that, and then the attachment of the upper handle to the lower handle on the left side broke. I fixed that, and then the cord of the pull starter broke. I fixed that, and then the attachment of the upper handle to the lower handle on the right side broke. I fixed that, and then the left front wheel came loose. I fixed that, and then the muffler fell off. The threads holding it in place were stripped, so I didn't really fix it, but managed to wedge it back in place, and it held long enough to finish what I needed to accomplish.
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I calculated that maintenance activities (designing and making repairs, hunting down nuts, bolts, and tools, checking and replenishing oil, acquiring gasoline and keeping a usable fuel level [for some inexplicable reason, over filling the gas tank rendered the motor inoperable]) took about half as long as the actual mowing. When I was younger, I enjoyed operating power mowers, but it has lost its allure as I age. The only good thing that I can see about this experience is that it is late enough in the season that I probably won't need to repeat the process again this year.
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One last item of news, is that Sonora Quest stopped by and introduced me to the person they are hiring to work as a phlebotomist in my lab. In spite of some initial concern, that has turned out to be good news. After some training in both my lab and at Sonora Quest, she started working full-time Monday October 10. The woman, whose name is Gwen, recently moved to Tucson (actually Oro Valley) from Cleveland Ohio, where she had worked for 17 years as a phlebotomist. I have only watched her briefly, but she seems to be pretty good with a needle (and after that much experience one would hope so...). My job is now much easier. Now if she just stays in place for awhile... And the snails? How do they fit in? I noted about 50 of them in a small puddle of water on the edge of the cliffs at Muley Point. How do you suppose they survive the dry season? |
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| Driving north from Winkleman to Globe there is a pass with an elevation close to 5000 feet. At the steepest slope on the north side of that pass I normally disengage the transmission of my car and coast down the hill, usually reaching speeds of around 78 mph. On one of my recent trips, for some reason (perhaps because my tires are not well balanced) I braked about the middle of that slope, and reduced my speed. Sitting just out of sight at the bottom of the hill was a very friendly highway patrolman (see above photo). We had a nice visit, and afterwards he issued me a citation, not for speeding (clocked at 71 mph) but rather for "wasting natural resources." The fine was substantially less than for speeding (nor does this infraction accrue points against my license nor can to my insurance company use it to increase rates), so I was not unhappy the officer chose that route. Still, it is unclear to me just how a driver coasting down a hill is wasting natural resources. The world is full of ironies... |