Ben Waters - Boogie Woogie New Year & BRAVE COMBO

Iz tym to DANCE!

Brave Combo Compilation

including 

The Chicken Dance !!! (at 2:50)

Gillespie Dam Bridge

So, the other day when it was nearing sundown and I was looking for a place to camp, there happened to be a bright green field with egrets. And just as happendly the road went up a hill. And there, atop the hill, was open land. I pulled in and spent the remains of the day watching the egrets fly a short distance to their roost.

The next day, motoring down the far side (of the hill) and passing over the Gila River, I spied what I thought must be storks. On the other side of the bridge a large family of motorcyclists was clambering up to THE INTERPRETIVE CENTER so I went on.

But this time I had it to myself.

American White Pelicans

(Are there German White Pelicans?) 

The history of the bridge:

https://www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=54936

Swirling Birds & Egret

An article about the place.

Run This Way

I Have to Admit I'm Getting Better

 

First Use of Ghee

Good stuff, Maynard

I still can't believe the friggin' pan is purple!

Benson Resupply

It was 50 miles into town. But I was out of food and propane.

The forecast was for rain, but as the morning progressed the sky got bluer.

At 1:00, we were on the road...a half-hour early.

I gave out several Western Watersheds Project newsletters to folks coming in. I was pleasantly surprised when the first one asked, "You're saying we should stop supporting these rangeland Queens and return the land to habitat?" A bit taken aback by the use of "Queens," I had to allow they often behave like miffed royalty, pouting and sucking their thumbs. The others were polite and attentive to my spiel, and at least feigned interest.

Near sunset, the eternal question begged: Where to now brown cow? The musicians I met the other day commended Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area. Following a Google to make sure it hadn't succumbed to Covid and another query about distance, we set off. 

But what with interacting with all the people and enduring the loud blatting and backfire (at the gas station) of a couple of Dennis Hopper wannabes 

not to mention the resupply shopping, I'z z'austed. So though we (Phoebe and I) didn't go back to perzackly from whence we came, we ended up close.

Tuh-morowz anudder day; so we hope. 

They Say It's Your Birthday

Traditionally watched in Germany on New Year's Eve, I enjoyed this yesterday: my birthday. 

A bit about it's history: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-46620852

Then there's this...gleaned from an early post of Island Musings

Further West

Time was, just the other day, when I had this area to myself. There were several cars on the main road -- a sandy two-track -- and a few others camped off a ways. Good ole 4wd and short wheelbase gets us across the steep-sided arroyos and away from the hoi-polloi.

Location Shot

Camp

I'm almost certain that's an acacia on the left. And if you look closely you can make out the leopard lounging on the limb of the mesquite on the right. There were rhino grazing in the distance.

Group Sex

Bowie Meditation

It's been weeks since I've "meditated." But at late afternoon it was warm enough at Bowie, Arizona to shed clothes and enjoy.

Years ago, but within recent memory, water flowed from the top of the mountain. It spread over the expanse of north-facing granite, the sheen beckoning me off the Interstate.

Once, when camped outside a locked gate, a BLM ranger stopped and told of a ranch house not far up the way that the Bureau had purchased. A short distance from the house an oak-lined arroyo with small pools sustained a flourishing habitat for birds and who knows what. It was the same water that came from the top.

The surrounding area has been converted to orchards and the water no longer flows off the mountain; sometimes you can see it coming out of the pipes that feed thousands of acres of pecans.

They're, whoever they are, continually planting more.

Practicing the teachings of Margo Anand whose fundamental message includes acceptance of all proclivities, I still see the pruned trees and the sharp-edged boundaries that define the orchards' perimeters as a perversion. Is there an unlimited supply of water? Have they considered how long it'll last? Is capitalistic narcissism the only real perversion? 

Transpiration contributes to a ubiquitous haze. 20 years ago the area had clear, blue skies.

Planted in even rows like corn, the pruned limbs reach toward the sky reminiscent of images of genocide. It's in stark contrast to the softness of the oaks, Apache Plume and others in the arroyo, still hanging on, pulling water, I surmise, from the subsurface flow that (maybe?) still makes its way down the mountain.

Subsurface irrigation reduces loss to evaporation

Solstice

On December 11, 2021, ten days before the Winter Solstice, I took pictures at the Red Rock exit (exit 100) on Interstate 25.

This post is to remind me to get photos from there again. 

Holding my phone compass flat and in front of me, it put the sun at 173 degress south. It was 4:39 p.m.

Coordinates where I was standing: N33.4106821 -W107.2586971

Between my pix are photos Jozien took at noon on the 12th at her home near Mendenhall Landing, Yukon Territory at: N60.764182, -W136.168218

Northwest

North

Northeast

East

Southwest

Jeremy Jones & Climate Change

I finally, today, made it halfway through the video. I think J.J. has something to say so I'm posting it again.

Purple Mountains is a film about snowboarder Jeremy Jones and his efforts to find common ground around (over, under, sideways, down) climate change among people of diverse beliefs.

Photo lifted from msrgear.com

Day's Inn - Part II

 See previous post for "Introduction."

With the heater off the sounds of Albuquerque were right outside the door. Perhaps it's its proximity to Mexico, perhaps it's just the times, but there seems to be an inordinate fascination with loud -- or no -- mufflers. The blatting of the cars, trucks and motorcycles is noted (I discovered) by other motel residents (not just Day's Inn) who wrote of their experience. And it's only Thursday!

I called the Wyndham reservation line to cancel for the next night and ask for a refund. That took 25 minutes and 11 seconds. Come to find out the fellow that checked me in is the owner. When I'd asked, at check-in, he'd denied it saying "I just work here." (I wanted to know who to blame for the $200 deposit.)

I managed to drift off around midnight only to be awakened at 2:40 a.m. by a manic stroller cruising the parapet. He was either on his phone or, as it sounded, blathering lyrically to himself. He came by twice in the next ten minutes, loud enough to ensure full wakefulness.

The hours crawled by. It actually got quiet for ten minutes around 6:00 a.m.

At 7:00 a.m. I contacted Wyndham Customer Service; it was less than satisfying. The rep called the front desk and said she'd talked with Alley (in case you have the pleasure) and they'd cancelled my reservation for Friday...no mention of refund. When I went to check out and retrieve the deposit, Security was within arm's reach. Alley made no inquiry of why I was checking out, smiling pleasantly while noting they'd cancelled my non-cancellable reservation.

Later, I again called Customer Service to see about a refund. I was told I should've addressed the issues with the Manager and requested a refund from them. There's a chance I'll get a refund in a week after my case has been reviewed by Wyndham and the Manager.

You can imagine AirBnb's investors rubbing their palms together and smiling with satisfaction at their expanding empire.

Day's Inn - 10321 Hotel Ave NE, Albuquerque, NM

My time at the AirBnb ran out and I was on the street. I wanted a place close to Michelle's and thought the Day's Inn, just a couple miles from her house, would be good. 

I've stayed in some interesting places in my time, but what with AirBnb stoking the flames of competition, you'd think they'd have gone out of business.

At the front desk the clerk demanded a $200.00 cash deposit. No mention had been made of it when I booked online. While the exchange over the discrepancy in disclosure was unfolding, I watched a young lady make a bee-line through the lobby in a bathrobe (pool closed; no hot tub). She was followed by an overly polite (Yessir, nossir, sorry sir -- indicative of a stay in the hoosegow) young man wearing shorts (outside temp approaching 30 degrees) and a t-shirt, missing most of his front teeth (knocked out? meth?), who requested fresh towels and sheets. The clerk signaled him to wait. I asked to see the room before paying. He said I had to pay first. By the time I got the money I'd forgotten (encroaching senility).

Then came the rules.

My signature confirmed acknowledgement.

Back outside, Security, a fine, strapping, Paul Bunyan-esque fellow about 6'4" weighing (my guess) 325 pds., advised me there were lots of homeless around and I should take the propane tank & tarp off the roof...lest they disappear.

In the room, the shredded curtains and spotted chair warranted photos. 

Pulling back the bedspread, I picked off some hair stuck to the sheet. Though a bit of an aficionado, I couldn't be certain if it was nose or "other," and whether the adhesive was mucus or "other." I unrolled my sleeping bag atop the bedspread.

Now, at 10:08 pm, the heater's just blowing air and I turned it off; I was hoping it'd help cover the sound of the freeway. The terlit whistles a happy tune as it flushes...but, HUURRAYY!, works just ifne. I've got muh fingerz crosst there'll be hot water in the morning. 

It's only two nights; with luck it'll take longer than that for the bedbugs to realize there's prey. 

Compensation

On Thursday, 2, December, 2021, whilst perusing the website of the Schweitzerhof Hotel in Luzern, Switzerland, I came across a misprint in the LOGOS section that granted unlimited permission to use the hotel's logo. I sent the hotel an email, but never heard back.

Schweitzerhof Luzern

I began my career at the University of New Mexico Press where I spent four years under the tutelage of the then Associate Marketing Director (name with-held by request).

Eventually, I found my way to the Marketing Directorship of New Mexico Central Credit Union where I answered to the President.

Two weeks after I left the credit union I got a call inviting me to apply for the position of Marketing Director for Bank of America's office in Albuquerque. I declined, saying I'd leased a gallery and was now a full-time art dealer.

In 2009, I was working with the marketing firm Nakheel to complete the final details of an exhibit in Dubai. (Nakheel handled marketing of The Trees) I lost my working capital in the market crash of that year and subsequently closed my business.

Now, with death drawing nigh, I ask: What is my time worth? My billing rate of $350.00/hr USD now seems paltry.

What do YOU think would be just compensation from a five-star hotel with a history dating back nearly 100 years?

You'd think at least a Thank You might've been forthcoming.

Dooty

It's now 3:22 a.m. I was awakened at 2:13 by the angina. 

I took my meds...with the soda-water that eases the stomach pain they induce. 

And now, fully awake, I'm, yet again, pondering the dilemma of my  disease.

If I exercise, as I did yesterday -- walking four blocks -- the angina flares. If I DON'T exercise I gain weight faster and put more "load" on my heart. Add to that the ever-present risk of stroke and one is faced with the question: Is now the time to call it quits?

This isn't depression motivated suicide, it's sound-mind thinking; it's acknowledgement of the pain of a heart attack -- I've experienced it and don't want to again -- and the recognition of the loss of quality of life that can occur with a stroke.

And there's no way to predict if a stroke'll result in drooling from the side of my mouth or I'll be paralyzed and -- as it's called - locked in.

The cardiologist asked me questions such as -- "How often are you taking the sub-lingual nitro(glycerin)?"

Maybe it's too individual to speculate, but I got the impression she has some knowledge of how to gauge the level of my disease. But she didn't offer any tidbits. And at the time I didn't think to ask. (Maybe I'll send her a msg through the portal). When I asked about taking advantage of the New Mexico Death in Dying Act, she said, "You're not terminal." And with that, dismissed the question.

I'd hoped to press the issue since, with heart disease, there're no STRONG indicators of terminality (as with cancer). But I'll have to look elsewhere...in my spare (remaining) time.

I have a responsibility to myself -- a born-again agnostic, raised in the existential wonderland of the 1960s, with all the insights and delusions (We shall overcome!) of that era. I'm deeply involved in three relationships; each mutually supportive and daily moving us toward ever expanding developments in ways that only the intimacy of lovers can provide. 

But I have a responsibility to myself,  to call it quits while I can. But when?

And she's not offering any tidbits, let alone any substantive info. So I write this as a means of tracking my process; it may be a way of knowing WHEN when I see it. 

Oh, wait. That only works with obscenity.

Rumored to have a decent omelette, we went to see. 

I've forgotten.

Giovanni's

Finding a good "Chicago" pizza in Chicago can be challenging; it's completely hopeless in Albuquerque. But we keep going to Giovanni's.

The photos remind us of Vincent Distasio's paintings. 

And the pizza's so good we can polish off an eighteen-incher (almost calorie-less with nothing but tomatoes, onions and garlic, no cheese, and the thinnest wisp of bread).

Well-fed

Journey's Place

I blogged about them when they 1st started. Back then it was hit or miss as to whether they'd be open. 

Although I forgot to ask if they're keeping regular hours, they've been there the last few times I've gone by.

Take the Escondida Exit off Interstate 25 about 2 miles north of Socorro. Follow the road to the east through the ninety-degree turn to the north and go about three quarters of a mile...on your left at: 34.1172493, -106.8960556

She takes your order at the window on the far right (behind post)

and calls you when it's ready. Cash only.

 

Seating

Profile

I had the breakfast burrito with red chili chorizo. Superb!

Hear the cranes near the beginning?

Quebradas

When Phoebe was in the shop I'd use Schvoogie, our 2008 Honda FIT. The Schvoogr's a bit low for off-roading, but we're gettin' tuh know each other. Last night's setup was easier than ever and this morning's packing went smoothly.

Front seat unbolted & moved to enable full-length recline

Ready for bed

From near to far: my fleece-lined vest covers my pillow, a stuffsack of down and polartec vestments.

On the left are a couple of books and reading glasses. ($1.00 a pair at Dollar Tree. Check it out!)

Dopp kit - in the Einstein Bagels lunchbox

Headphones - in the bright yellow bag

To left of headphones - loaf of french bread, cheese and onion.

Behind headphones - cardboard box with oddments incl dirty dishes, bags of organic dried fruit, cables for charging phone and laptop.

Right side - sleeping bag

Not shown - Driver's seat holds bag of electronics incl remote hard-drive for backing up, external DVD player, binoculars, inverter for converting DC to AC (need to be able to run the Hitachi Magic Wand dontchya know). Morning bidness bag w roll of T.P., 13 gallon bags for use w bidet and bags for used t.p.  Box of crackers. Clean laundry in bag on floor in front of seat.

In my teens, when I was hitch-hiking aroumd, I speny two weeks helping a Mayflower mover.

He taught me how to pack.

Water jugs froze solid last night. I was cozy warm.  

Ready to Ride

Architecture

Note turquoise trim

Findings - Gabriel Rosenstock

 Haiku Enlightenment

Schvoogie

Awaiting Phoebe's return from her pre-Winter spa treatment, I took Schvoogie (so-named cuz Michelle thinks he looks like a house-slipper) out for a jaunt. He's not really of overlanding material. 

I once pulled off his lower lip when traversing a teensie arroyo. Fortunately, we found two young dudes who, with impressive skill and speed, reattached it...and asked a mere $20.00. This was das hinterlands of Utah. I gave $50. I 'splained to them "Ya'll should charge twenty-five fur der hammer und ein hundred fur knowin' how tuh use hit.")

He's perennially shod with snow-tires; ready at a moments notice to take over for Snoball, the 2015 FIT, whenever inclement weather strikes and cat-sitting duty calls.

When not awaiting snows, the tires work quite well for off-roading; it's his low-slung, low-rider (lots of hyphens in this post, eh?) lineage that impedes him from realizing his potential.

But we're exploring...and finding some decent enough roads to take us away from the rolling-roar that is Interstate 25. 

The fog creates photo-ops on the mountains and provides visual respite to the usual: a flat, contrast-lacking brown. 

It's from that transpiration I've mentioned.

Birthday Pie

Around age 5, my grandmother coached me on the art of biscuits. Later, Mom spent time teaching about scrambled eggs and cake so I could help out in the mornings & at least once a month when she would bake.

I cooked in the commune in Boulder when I was 16 and did the heavy-lifting for holidays after I married at age 22; it became a tradition that has carried through the decades.

Now that we have every THING we want, I gift Michelle with pies

This is for her 65th. 

Apple

Perfectly done

A Squidgeworld "Slice"

Rio Grande

Years ago I attended a meeting of business owners at which a politician exhorted us to encourage xeriscape in the cities.

Research showed townies used 2% of the water. I asked if they were going to stop watering the golf courses; she said no.

Cotton, one of the most water-intensive crops and extremely hard on soils is a favorite in southern New Mexico. Of course chili is popular, but it's hard to imagine the demand for pecans and pistachios that must be fueling the thousands of acres being planted not just in southern New Mexico but near San Simon, Arizona. Although they no longer use surface irrigation, the amounts flowing through the 20-inch diameter pipes is boggling.

Climate change isn't just due to carbon dioxide; it also stems from transpiration and its cumulative effects. 

The sky used to be a clear blue. Now the entire Southwest often has a high white haze. Some days there's a thin layer of fog that hangs a few thousand feet up and through which the clear sky above is occasionally visible.

Of course, no one wants to acknowledge there are just too many people.

Near Socorro, in the north

At Arrey, in the south