Two Women

The First: General Store
Dark-haired Gypsy when I asked about the price of the creamcheese she said, "For you, Darlin', this afternoon, a dollar." The term of endearment brought up my skeptical fur, but when she sweetly placed her hand under mine as she gave me my change, I fell in love. I admit it, I nearly nearly swooned when I looked closer and beheld the line of amethysts adorning her left lobe. Staggering to the car, I imaged it'd be like this Pepe Le Pew cartoon.

The Second: Summerdale C.G.
Sometimes I ask before helping myself, but there wasn't a vehicle in the camp host's drive. The water soon appeared as did a trash bin. On my way out a large white something-er-other stopped. We backed up and she identified herself as the one in charge and asked if I was camping. I said no, I had just gotten water and asked if that was okay? She said it was fine and added she'd been at the lake all day (If you got it, flaunt it!).

She told of dispersed camping off Mt Raymond Rd (see entry on iOverlander) and said to come back for water anytime.

WHERE would we BE without them?

Growing Olde(r) - Death Valley

Fun with color!!


Age 63, recently attained, is presenting some interesting (that Chinese curse) dimensions -- including some fond memories. 

The (dirt) roads in Death Valley are so rough one can only surmise they keep 'em that way to discourage travel and save the taxpayers from the costs of rescue or worse, like the Dutch couple below who succumbed in August of 2011. 


http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/26/dutch-tourist-couple-die-_n_937687.html



But there was a time when I traveled with a young woman (I was young then too) who, whenever bouncing o'er washboard, became aroused. 

JUST THE TWO OF US

No doubt it was the similar action on my way to The Racetrack (in Death Valley) that inspired the recollection of a Spring day in New Mexico when her inferential glances segued into caresses. The road was remote, my proclivity for "the wilds" being fully-formed even then, so it was with confidence that we pulled off the track. (NEVER block the road!) We spread our blanket and eagerly shucked the socially-useless threads which, in the warming of the early afternoon, were completely without purpose.

Later, as we lazed in the mid-day glow, we were suddenly wrenched back into reality when a truck rattled out of the nearby juniper-pinons. Disentangled, our raised heads made us all the more aware of our nakedness. There was nought but small sage and cheatgrass to hide behind and our clothes -- shorts and t-shirts -- tangled and beyond reach, were impossible to don in the seconds available. 

We smiled, waved and did our best to look modest as three generations of Native Americans passed by.  Their cognitive dissonance almost made us laugh with them as they alternately tried to ignore us while satisfying their curiosity. I mean, we were less than 100 feet apart! 

Time, normally berated for it's fleetness, stood still. Their smiles, the gorgeous turquoise sky, the unique odour of love wafting upon the sparkling light and enveloping warmth helped sustain our dignity as they traversed the expansive horizon that dominated our low-lying vantage.

To this day I wonder how they know. There I'll be, happily lost in thought while "watering the lawn" when they come trundling round the corner. I suspect the perverse humor of Jung's collective unconscious, but danged if I'll try and prove it.

TOMORROW, PERHAPS?

At the other end of the spectrum was the millionairess who, although fully emancipated, enjoyed playing at traditional roles. Thus, whenever out for a spin, yerz trooly was at the wheel. 

Eggbert, lacking a phone console and with narrower seats, enabled me to reach her more easily. But on the highway enroute to a B & B, the Lexus, with it's large windows and sunroof provided the better medium for indulging her exhibitionistic tendencies. She'd remove her top and sometimes her pants and ask me to slow down as we pulled alongside trucks and other high-stepping vehicles. Satisfied their drivers had received a good eyeful, we'd zoom ahead to the next lucky sailor. She also enjoyed the top of the kitchen counters. There, with lights ablaze, the huge windows, custom-crafted from sliding glass doors afforded any passerby a clear view.

Perhaps it's the recent walking on of Michelle's Mom that's prompting some of this. The first gal is, as far as I know, living happily near Seattle while, as I've mentioned elsewhere, Frayda left here in the Spring of 2006. And maybe *that's* what's prompting the memories of her; she died at the end of April.

FULL MOON

Recently I discovered I'd lost another.  She coordinated the Tamkaliks celebration in Wallowa, Washington and taught school there. It was around Valentine's that I went online to look up her mailing address and found her obituary. The cancer she'd been wrangling for several years had taken her.


Perhaps it's the cold I came down with a few weeks ago. The deep, wracking coughs and long trudge back to health. Or maybe it's just the age...and it's like the Chinese curse.  I hadn't thought of the Seattle woman in years and if it hadn't been for the road I might not ever have again. And though some are poignant and ache with loss, it's nice to discover most of them are fond. 

The Women of Pagosa Springs, Colorado...

...are amazing!!!

It was early in June that I spied a pair of Metros lounging on the veranda of a cabin. Eggbert's been having some issues and I surmised with TWO, surely their person would know a good mechanic; I pulled into the drive and banged on the door. Eventually Dana showed up and boy was she worth it!

I've never heard a woman talk cars, let alone Metro's the way she could. She knew all about 'em and actually had three, the third being a Suzuki Tracker. But it had been rolled and was no longer seeing action. When I asked how she came to be an aficionado she said it was partly cuz she had five older brothers, three rednecks and two others. When I asked who did her mechanicin', she proudly said her 19-year-old son did most of it. 

She's been delivering papers for 12 years and is partial to her 2000 hatchback. She commented that she goes through tie rod ends pretty fast and after three deer and an elk it looks a bit worse for wear, but is still going strong. But what fotched me up on my behimes was when I suggested negotiating with Andy Martin of Eco-Motors in Albuquerque for a custom-built and she said, "I have tits, I can negotiate." Somehow, it seemed related to the brothers.

She'd recently separated from a long-term relationship and has had a few sporting friends, but now, after two marriages, was looking forward to tying the knot one more time. So if you're looking for one that doesn't need you...or your shit, you might try bangin' on her door.

An hour later I was perusing the dairy case at City Market when a woman who'd been hefting a 6 oz thingie of yogurt turned to me and with a disgusted tone said, "Two dollars for that?! I can make it myself for less. I don't THINK so!"  "Absolutely!" I emphatically agreed (I've learned you gotta watch it at times like this...people can be dangerous.) 

I inquired if there wasn't another store and she said "No, we're stuck with this one, in hell!" The delivery was hilarious and as I laughed she took a hold of my forearm and began a tale of how she was raising fryer chickens and was upset because she'd lost 1/3 of her flock to heart attacks.

She blamed the breeder's website as it didn't warn that although genetically designed to be edible within two months, they gained weight so fast their hearts couldn't keep up. According to the forums, 1/3 loss was typical. But, as mentioned, this wasn't explained on the website and it was only after the fact she'd uncovered the truth.

Her grip tightened and she hit her stride. As I stood there wondering how much I could insinuate from the contact, she told how the second batch she'd ordered weren't adapted to high altitude and soon started keeling over. Furthermore, they, batch #2, declared war on the first and had pecked one to death before she could intervene. Her husband put up a fence between the factions, but the antagonists spent all day glaring at the others. For once I found myself at a loss for words. Groping for a scrap of optimism, I encouraged her to console herself with the yogurt. We parted on intimate terms.

As I made my way toward the front of the store a woman perusing the condiments turned and with her second glance gave me a most lovely smile. I'd have thought nothing of it except I'm feeling olde these days. She was near my age and I thought I caught hint of a muffled giggle (my ears get clogged when I'm in a city) as she coquettishly (do I read too much into these?) covered her smile with a ringless hand.

Adopting a slight swagger, I picked the checkout line by noting she was about my age. She was busy with a customer and directed me to the next aisle. As I approached I realized I was about to find myself in the presence of an exceptional beauty. At least ten years my junior with dark hair, she greeted me with a Mona Lisa smile that prompted me to inquire about what kinds of trouble she'd been causing.

With a touch of hurt, she averred her innocence and was merely responding to me. Concerned for her feelings, I described the cartoon that has two pictures of a seated cat. The cat, in both pictures has the identical, enigmatic expression. The caption under the left image is, "A cat thinking about doing something." The caption under the second image is, "A cat that's just done something." 

She got the joke and we spent the rest of the afternoon swapping tales of ribald encounters in the Ace Hardware.


As usual, it reads alot less dramatical than real life. But as I climbed into the cockpit, I was surprised to find myself pondering the potentialities of a rented room.