Zuni Pueblo Range

Nativo Lodge

There's no valet service.

There's plenty more to say, but I wanted to get this posted. It's my last night here.

The next morning, having loaded my soiled pee pads into the guest laundry, I exited the building through an unexplored door and there, fluttering across the parking lot, was a chick, not a young, human female, a fledgling. I began talking to it and as I drew near, it hunkered down and became still. Cupping my hand, I gingerly covered it and picked it up. It was then I noticed Michael Toya working nearby.

I went over to consult and he pointed out the mother who, he said, had been flying down to the chick and up to a nearby lamp-post where, he surmised, there was a nest. The wind had been blowing pretty hard all morning and the chick seemed a casualty.

After some discussion, we put the chick at the edge of a nearby shrub near the base of the post. There, it'd at least be off the pavement and less likely to be run over.

Returning my attention to Michael I realized he was the artist whose work covered the exterior wall at the base of the building. You can see some of it in the picture above to the left of Phoebe. Michael told how the owners had asked all the artists who'd painted rooms in the hotel to submit proposals for the exterior....and Michael's had been selected.

Eventually, he said, the entire outer facade would be done including the huge, south-facing wall.

I asked about his background. He's from Jemez Pueblo where he'd been raised by his grandparents in the traditional way. He immigrated to Isleta Pueblo when he married.

There was an interesting moment when he paused from our conversation and seemed to assume a more upright stance. He told how they used to hunt Oh-Kee-Dagh, the little bird, a type of finch. He said the male's bright yellow chest feathers were used in ceremonies by his grandfather, but since his death they didn't hunt it much anymore.

The first time he named the bird he made a sound in the back of his throat that I've written as Dagh. The sound was sort of like a cough, but different. After saying it, Michael looked at me as if he expected me to attempt a pronunciation, but he must've seen my reluctance as he then repeated the name but simplified it to: Oh-Kee-Dah....without the problematic, for me, "cough."

I asked about taking his picture and he returned to work.

I'd been gifted with a bit of insider knowledge.

5:30 a.m. Psuedo Instygram

Had to change out the Paw Pad closest to muh penis; hit whar soaked. Leaky li'l devil. Tha's the problem these days. 

Ah tooken a couple uh sleep aids since ah dun bin up mostuh the night. Fortunately, Ms. Cook dohn git free 'til round one o'clock....long 'bout the time ah'll be straightenin' muh tie...cuz, you know, "ev'ry gurl crazy 'bout a sharp-drest man."

Ah'm countin' on awl you new Psuedo Instergram readers tuh hit that thar do-nay-shun button in the upper right tuh he'p with awl these 'spences ah've had thiz past week.

Many thanks to those who've given so generously. You know who you are. We're committed to your anonymity to preserve you from the relentless horde of professional beggars.

Instagram Pretentions

 3 a.m. Diaper Change.

Pretension is purposely misspelled in the title to grab the attention of those (few) who actually KNOW how it's spelled; it's a ploy.

Sort of like: "It's a Carrot," but different. 

For those closely following, I had cut Paw Pads (brand) absorbent pads into washcloth-size squares. This 3 a.m. change involved replacing those rather than the actual diaper.

The diaper, in the upper left, is from the 2a.m. change. The blue squares are the non-absorbent side of the cut up Paw Pads (product placement photo to come). 

Michelle had the Paw Pads left over from a cat that preferred to pee outside the box. Knowing my creative brilliance, she thought I might be able to fold them into a type of cap that would absorb the excess juices from my brain.

(I KNOW thousands are benefiting from my experience and creative problem-solving. It gives meaning to my life.....NOT)

And don't be ashamed of those $500.00 donations. I know it can seem embarassing in these times of multi-mega millions easily being raked in by early investors in the pot business. But they add up. Any amt appreciated. 🥰

And just think of the poor souls who got 40-years-to life in Georgia & Tennessee back in the '70s & '80s  for dealing an ounce.

My 1st wife's ex spent 1972-1976 (four years!!!) in a Tennessee penitentory for two joints.

Instagram Wannabee

Rumor has it everyone's gone over to Instagram.

If I were on Instagram I'd post pictures of my wet diaper in the tub and these photos of my bed with the query, "Which do you like best?" Cuz one shows the closet better.

I'd no doubt be concerned about my sponsors. Ugh!

It's the 2 a.m . diaper change and given the "average" American's fascination with all things prurient (well, this is SORT OF prurient!), I figured it was worth posting. 

In a month or two, after I've forgotten the struggle of this period, this post'll remind me I could have THOUSANDS of followers if I wanted to go on Instygram. I mean, isn't this fascinating?

But, of course, there I'd be with the requisite five cats, too. I have to admit, it sounds enticing. But all that FUR!!

Celebration II

Oh, god, I never thought I could love a vehicle.

I bought half a pound of Sprouts' filet mignon and the butcher, when heard what I had in mind said "We don't use a grinder anymore, but I'll trim the fat off before I weigh it & chop it as fine as I can"

On the way to the hotel I realized I didn't have any capers. So I screeched up to the front, jumped out leaving keys in ignition in case they needed to move her (there's no valet service), and went up to my room.

Came back down, went & got the capers, STILL w/o having tipped the butcher.

Back to the hotel where she sits next to a new Discovery. When Overlamd Journal reviewed the Discovery 3 years ago the entire dash electronics went dead.

You don't have to start Phoebe to roll HER windows down.

I had a couple of sips of orange juice in lieu of wine.

Tomorrow I'll take care of the butcher.

New Brakes

OMG!

What a vehicle!

I mean, what with all the health hassles, I have to admit having a shower close at hand was nice. And, due to the noise from the freeway, I slept on the floor outside the bathroom so there was another wall twixt me and the sound.

But I've got my escape vehicle back.

Beef tartare to celebrate

Had to replace the front left caliper.

New rotors

Platinum Ceramic pads.

$674.61. 

Two more nights at Nativo Lodge. Then we'll see how we do.

What NEXT?!

We got rolling about 12:30...in the afternoon.

There's a long, steep hill that provides -- if you dare take your eyes off the narrow highway -- a magnificent view of the Chama River and the cultivated fields. And just before the hill there's a curve that, for me, requires braking. And as the pedal went to the floor & I felt us run over something, I recognized Phoebe's way of letting me know the front pads needed replacing. (The "bump" was the front disk pad getting run over by the rear wheel.)

Fortunately, right there at the top of the hill there're big turnouts on either side. I yanked the wheel to the right as the guy behind me honked and probably swore...I forgot to signal. (I had taken 2 precious seconds -- when I shoulda been signaling -- to try the brake again and yup, they wuz gone.) So he had his rights, yuh know.

Note hill sign at extreme left.

Geico covered the 69 miles to the Chevy dealership in Santa Fe, but it was another 69 miles to By the Book, in Albuquerque. The bill was $290.54.

My sleeping bag still hasn't been washed nor have I yet had a bath, but Michelle kindly booked me into the Nativo Lodge for three nights....$528.36

I hate to think what the brake-job's gonna cost.

Donations welcome. The Paypal donation button at the upper right of the blog still works (I think) and I'm tapped into Zelle and Venmo. 

The Adventure Continues!!

(Arrived ABQ around 2:30pm)

Monastery Road

Georgia O'Keefe liked the area a lot. If you've ever seen her paintings in real life, you can see how primitive an artist she was.

But "The West" has always been a popular subject and being married to Alfred Steiglitz, an inVETERATE. marketeer, didn't hurt none.

 Monastery Road is just up the street from Ghost Ranch, a retreat center that capitalized on O'Keefe's nearby home.

The Bright Side

"At least you don't need to be catheterized," was my physician's comment.

On Monastery Road a bit north of Ghost Ranch, the place/area made famous by Georgia O'Keefe.

I HAVE to replace the blue ensolite pad in the car. It's saturated and reeks of pee as does my sleeping bag and, for that matter, so do I.

I'll need a bath and so far, though the sun is out, the wind is cold.

And I feel too weak to get up yet....maybe later. But I'll need to find a shower, laundromat & sporting goods store....in that order. A long day ahead and I'm wondering if an oxycodone would help.

I've been hoarding the last few - prescribed for the pain from the shingles. And though that pain contributes to the weakness, there's just an overall weariness from waking several times during the night to change my diaper and deal with the leakage. 

I got a text from DHL saying the package'd be delivered on the 27th.

I made it through last night w/o any meds, but not sure I have the chutzpuh to deal. 

10 a.m. - I can begin getting dressed to get water at Bodies, the store in Abiquiu.

A Night to Forget

Tired from my meeting with the dakini, I took a room at the Silver Saddle motel in Santa Fe. For dinner I gorged on a delicious meal of fajitas from one of the many family-owned restaurants;  it included more grease and fat than I've eaten in years. 

Tuesday I drove to Jemez Springs and spent the day resting and late in the afternoon went to the Ojito Wilderness to camp.

As evening came on the wind came up and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees; by dark it was cold. Without signal I had no way to know what the weather might be but April in these parts can often include snow.

Around 10 p.m. I was forced to get out....and the "looseness" was disconcerting. Two more trips over the next hour had me hoping I might make it through the night, but it was not to be.

Around 1 a.m. I was awakened with a "full load" in my underpants. By the time I managed to exit into the night the bag was soiled beyond use. 

I estimated the breeze at around 25 - 30 knots and could only guess at the wind chill... "bracing" to say the least. (post event research suggested the temp was in the low 30s.)

After swabbing the lower half of my body as best I could, I rolled the bag and tossed it onto the roof rack.

Cosmically, or so it now seemed, I'd found a sleeping bag behind a gas station the day b4. It was neatly rolled and bound with twine...nothing and no one else around. I debated taking it, but after some thought went ahead. I planned to launder it b4 use, but I had no hesitation as I cut the twine. It was a pleasant surprise to find it was clean with no smell at all though the pilled flannel lining indicated it was far from new.

It's incidences like this that incline me to believe in a "higher power" though even that phrase smacks a bit too much, for me, of dogma. Still, after standing in a  "breeze" at near-freezing temp to swab shit off most of my lower body, I couldn't help but marvel at the "coincidence."

It sure was good going down, though.

Camp Shooz

Mike Kelsey, famous backpacker and climber, suggests carrying a pair of shoes to wear around camp. I picked up these TOMS a few years ago for $2.00 and have been pleased with their longevity. But the last year or so the mice have favored the left one and, worst of all, they've taken on an odour.

Among the myriad tasks to complete while in town was/is to find their replacement. Today, car registration and a meeting with a Dakini are taking precedent. First things first! Yah!

 

Arrive ABQ & Nativo Lodge

What an "armpit." My guess is the place gets its renown from manufacturing and marketing the loudest "mufflers."

Ford Mustangs are astoundingly popular. It lends insight into the town's mentality: one that appreciates a car that makes lots of noise while moving at the rate of a 40-hp Volkswagen.

Michelle met me at the locker and helped unload.

Fatigue from shingles made the drive from Quebradas Backcountry Byway difficult.

Pizza 9 for dinner

Staying at the Nativo Lodge - San Mateo & the Freeway.

Nativo's staff is friendly and helpful but the sliding glass doors are single pane and the west-facing side looks out upon San Mateo Blvd and Interstate 25. The single-pane glass does little to mitigate the noise.

 

Black Hills Backcountry Byway

Leaving Safford late in the day, I was casting about for a road with an eastward inclination; I chose highway 191 to Three Way. 

It was busier than anticipated and with everyone buzzing along in the end-of-the-day eagerness to get wherever, when the sign for the Black Hills Backcountry Byway went by I made a U-eee. 

This 29-mile-segment provides some respite from 191. There're some nifty rock outcrops, scads of prickly-pear cactus and minimal traffic. 

At the river, the Gila, I believe, the Olde Safford Bridge and its associated plaque give cause for pause.

Once over the ridge the view is dominated by someone flouting (and flaunting) their disdain for the Leave-No-Trace (LNT) admonition with a "splendid" mine. (You know whoever came up with LNT had to have been from the same kindergarten of marketing as Mrs. Bush. ("Just Say No" campaign.)

Camp was in the company of this venerable ponderosa....

and the moon.

31st Anniversary

 We celebrate on April first.

The poem is by Anne U. White.

                  I WOULD BE WITH YOU

I have said only that I

       would be with you 

Wherever you go

      and you with me.

There is no time or age

      to this one promise,

      nor any place except the

      one you are.

Knowing this, let it give

      you strength,

      and strength to me,

To make what life brings to each of us

Lovelier than before.

1965

Postscript:

It started at my sister's wedding. Her high-school art teacher came up to me and said if I wasn't doing anything, her daughter could use some help getting her art work out there. That was maybe 1993 and I was Marketing Director of New Mexico Central Credit Union...the clearinghouse for all the other Albuquerque credit unions.

Well, I went to see and by the next Spring we decided to combine households. 

In the interim between my inviting her up to my apartment for some brocolli and us not being exactly sure when Sophie (my cat) and Antoinette, the tortoise,  were fully settled, it all had the feeling of a wonderful event that fit perfectly with All Fools Day. And so it's been.