Date:                           November 29, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            One of the greatest pleasures we have found in our little excursion into TorC adventure land has bee the weather.  When we awake in the morning the sun seems to be brightly awaiting our arrival as it fills the crystal clear blue sky with warmth and comfort.  In the few weeks that we have been here we have seen more blue sky than New York gets in a decade.  If, and that is a very rare if, there is a cloud in the sky, it is usually one of those wispy contrails of white that thinly stretches across the sky.   It becomes an element of beauty as it so contrast the bright deep blue of the rest of the heaven.  The constant sunny, bright sun filled blue sky has become our favorite constant in New Mexico.  It matters little what the over night temperature has been, because as the sun rises in the heaven the warmth and calm comfort is expectedly, soon to follow.

            The last two days and the next few are the exception to the rule that defines this experience.  We have actually had pure cloudy days. A day when, at times, during the day light hours there was not a spec of sun visible.  I think that the governor has called out the Nation Guard and filed a missing person’s report.  Or he would have if they were not all deployed to some hell hole someplace in Iraq.  There have been moments that I could have sworn that we had been transported back to New York.  The sky is grey and funky and the sun is AWOL.  This has been going on for almost two days.  It may be a record in New Mexico.  When the sun does peak from behind a gathering of grey or purple clouds it only shines for the fewest of moments.  This may be a good thing for my soul, as it allows me to remember the warmth the sun should be providing.  It is, however, not long enough to actually provide that warmth.  Just as I begin to feel a glimpse of the comforting wrap of warm New Mexican air the sun climbs back into its hiding place and disappears again.

            As if the game of hide-and-seek that the sun is playing is not insult enough, Mother Nature has turned on her wind machine and pointed it directly at us.  It is not only a constant blow of cool, almost cold, wind, but it is punctuated with fierce gusts of cold biting irritation.  It is, at least, cold and biting for TorC.  It has not been a very nice day for the last couple of days, and now they are calling for freezing temperatures tonight.  Bummer, and yuck!  How do you like the fact that I took nearly a full page of virtual paper to say that the weather has been cool, cloudy and windy, and is about to turn colder?  Am I full of it or what?

            By the rather long dissertation on the weather you might surmise that things in TorC or pretty quiet.  Connie is attending her first church committee, and will, this evening, attend her first choir practice.  I am rambling on as if I had nothing else to do, and during the day we are pretending to work at RBHS.  Connie is staying warm in the office and I am putting the flower beds to sleep for the “winter.”  I am also spending all too much time reading by news and political blog web pages, but have, until this point, shown extreme control in not responding or overly pontificating on my valuable and heartfelt opinions.  For this you might give thanks, and compliment my composure.  I am sure that at sometime in the future I will boil over and pound my frustrations out on this pour keyboard.  You will then have the choice of reading and fuming over my opinionated diatribe, or clicking on to a page of comic strips, or seasonal recipes.  I fear that if you have read this far on today’s entry there may be little hope for you.

            The wind is still blowing, there are a lot of clouds in the sky, there is a possibility that our icicles will have icicles by morning, but the sun is shinning andmI can see a large patch of blue coming my way.  It is not a bad day in TorC, but I am getting spoiled and I eagerly await the return of the New Mexican weather that I have so quickly become accustomed to enjoying.

PS

Aren’t you glad that I did not get lost on the news story about a couple in Colorado that got in trouble for displaying a Christmas Wreath that was shaped like a Peace Symbol?  Peace and Christmas in the same symbol, what were they thinking?

Date:                           November 27, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            The passing of Thanksgiving is marked my a few very important milestones.  The fist is the ability to once again to buckle your belt using the same belt hole that you could use on November1st.   Another milestone is opening the refrigerator and finding that all of the pumpkin pie is gone and the cool whip container is now being used to store some old buttons or paper clips.  You may still have a small container of turkey, but that is ok and not a necessary barrier to the realization that Thanksgiving is now over and we are on to the preparations for Christmas.  Another indication that Thanksgiving is past and a new season is quickly approaching is that, as and RVer, you spend a good part of the afternoon with your head stuck in small underneath compartment pulling out box after box of stuff until you find those twinkle lights you bought in Texas 2 years ago.

            Connie and I are well past Turkey day and preparing for the Christian celebration of emerging light.  I will not bore you with the many opinions I have about the how and why or how mistakenly we celebrate Christmas.  I will just let you know that Connie and I enjoy the beauty of the decorations, the entertainment of music and the energy of the socialization at our local church at this time of year.  We would like to leave the commercialism and degradation of this holiday to those that choose to be corrupted by it.

            We began our journey through our New Mexican Christmas at our newly adopted church.  It is a small congregation, but they all seem to have an enormous heart.  Connie is helping to form a holiday choir and has been drafted to help prepare a Sunday school program.  She has even been enlisted in helping guide the worship committee through this season and on toward the spring.  Like I said this is a small congregation and they appear to be, so far, very open to new ideas and, especially, new energy to help this church grow.  As I said this church has a group of parishioners that have very large and welcoming hearts, and after just a very few visits to their services we are considered new friends and participants and no longer just visitors.  It is a nice feeling to leave church on Sunday and feel that you have been a part of the gathering and not just an observing visitor.

            After service yesterday we had a church provided pot luck lunch.  It was a chance for everyone to unload some of their tons of turkey so they too could progress beyond the Thanksgiving season.  After the very good lunch and much fellowship most of us stayed and helped in the greening of the sanctuary.  For those of you that are to lazy to get out of bed on Sunday morning, that means we dug out the Christmas decorations and added some holiday color to signify the season.  It was soul enriching to see how many people stayed and spent their Sunday to help beautify the church.  There seem to be many more chiefs then there were Indians, but there was a very reasonable explanation for that discrepancy.  Like I alluded in a previous blog, this congregation is a bit older than even I am, and as such some of them find it quite difficult to climb a ladder and still maintain their balance with the use of their walkers.  That did not deter their desire to be a part of the celebration of the season and to add just a little more love and warmth the rest of us that still can waddle up a step ladder on most days.  Even the one or two small children that attended had a job that they could feel good about accomplishing.  What better expert to properly arrange the nativity scene than a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed 4 year old?  She was not only extremely proficient at this assignment; her charm and bright smiles as she was allowed to touch and move these very important adult icons will for a long time remain a warm memory in our souls.  Watching the pastor allow her to be a part of our greening ceremony will also help etch this season in our memories.

            Church lasted from 9:30 in the morning until nearly 4:00 in the afternoon.  This, of course, included our lunch and the fun of playing in the sanctuary.  When we got home it was time for me to forage around in the underbelly of our home.  Why is it that everything you need is behind and under everything that you don’t?  We now have icicles hanging from our awning, and they light up; we have our Christmas tree setting on our circular table in the window; and we have our very special crèche displayed beneath our tree.  We did not have a blonde haired 4 year old to arrange our nativity scene, but we did have a pretty blue eyed girl that was available to correct the clumsiness of a brown eyed old duffer that managed to dump the whole table on the floor, Christmas Tree and all.  I would just as soon not tell that story.

            Our Christmas season has begun.  Our Turkey is gown and I ate the last piece of pumpkin pie last night.  I am still working on that belt thing, but soon I will be using the same hole that I used to be able to use, I hope.  It truly must be the end of Thanksgiving season and the beginning of Christmas.  By the way we have already seen Miracle on 34^th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas and I am sure we will soon be watching The Christmas Gift with John Denver.  Next we will be getting out my Mannheim Steamroller CDs.  There are certain things that each season dictates and listening to Manheim Steamroller’s rendition of Silent Night is one of those necessities. 

Date:                           November 26, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0800

            Yesterday Connie and I tried playing a game that we have invented and find quite enjoyable.  It is a game that we hope never to really win and a game that is, under normal circumstances, impossible to win.  What is this game?  Why would a person play a game that is meant to be lost?  Have we totally entered the land of Crazy?  These are all the questions I am sure you are asking yourself, or should be.

            The game we played is called “Let’s get lost with Sacke,” or “Sacke Tag.”  The rules are simple. We find a destination in our GPS, Sacke.  We then put her in the car with directions to keep us off the main highways, and venture forth.  Sometimes we follow her direction exactly, and sometimes we just turn down a road because it is there and let Sacke try to figure out how we can still reach our destination.  The other important rule to obey is that we must have a full tank of gas.  We all know that if you have a full tank of gas you can not get lost.  You may not always be sure exactly where you are at any single moment in time, but you are not lost.  Having Sacke in your vehicle makes it almost totally impossible to ever get completely lost, especially if you have fuel in your tank.

            Yesterday Connie and I were interested in finding a small town near Las Cruces called La Mesilla.  It just so happens that we have had lunch there in a previous trip through this area.  We found that restaurant in Sacke and requested her to direct us to that spot.  It was not so we could, again, have a fantastic New Mexican lunch, all though we did just that.  It was just to get us in the neighborhood.  The restaurant was the El Commodore, and if you are in the area it is well worth the effort to find and enjoy there menu.

            Sacke, in her programmable wisdom, decided that we should take I-25 most of the way and then venture off into the desert on a state route.  This was the best she could do in her attempt to keep us off the main highways.  This is where the fun of the game comes into play.  On the way out of TorC I noticed a state road headed, sort of, in the direction we were going.  So, I made a turn and left our 4 lane, highly traveled interstate.  On the display map of Sacke our little diamond icon was now off the pink route and venturing off into the desert.  A few seconds passed and then we heard that sound that means you are fully involved in the game of “Let’s get lost with Sacke.”  In her most patient calming female voice, Sacke said; “Off route, recalculating.”  This is a sound that you must hear a lot while playing this game or else you are not playing the game at all.

            The magic of Sacke and the fun of our improvised game is that Sacke will always keep our destination in the background of her memory; she will always keep our position on this earth as her immediate concern, and will quickly and patiently combine these two, sometimes conflicting positions, into a single route with turn by turn direction.  The charm and pure pleasure of allowing her to do this is that we travel down some very interesting lanes of experience. 

            Just for the record; Connie and I had a great lunch; we did a lot of shopping in a quaint small southwestern village; we did not do a lot of buying in that same village; we heard Sacke tell us she was “recalculating” a lot; and we saw a bit of New Mexico from the other side of the pecan orchard and far from I-25.  We did manage to find and purchase some Christmas cards with a definite southwestern ambience.

Miles Traveled           162      Exploring

Date:                           November 24, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            It is the day after the day before and I have no fantastic tale to tell.  It was Thanksgiving and we attended a pot-luck dinner in the courtyard of RBHS.  That is not very exciting and yet it does fully encapsulate the events of the day.  We must dress these facts with the adornments that Connie and I did have to work from 11:00 am until 5:00 pm, but that was not a great burden.

            I have previously tried to describe the scenery and events that fill the southwest and TorC in particular, but have come up very short in managing to place my full emotions and experiences on this virtual paper.  It may be simply be because I have not fully grasped the knowledge myself.  I did manage to stumble onto a simple technique of description.  I alluded to the descriptive manner of portraying the scenery or event by what was there, but seeming did not belong.  The desert’s harsh floor covered with flourishing creosote bushes, or the barren landscape accented by the exploding vista of mountains on the horizon.  This technique may be a good way to explain the events of our first Thanksgiving in the desert.

            I had expected a series of stories and tales to emerge from our pot-luck.  We were having it in the courtyard of a hot springs spa in the middle of the desert along the Rio Grande.  Why should I expect anything that even resembles normality?  The collection of people invited or uninvited that I expected to attend our holiday feast were, I was sure, to be an eclectic collection of diverse souls.  This would have been the expected in an unsuspecting way.  This would have been what belonged in my description.

            Yesterday fits exactly into my rule of description.  It was about what, seeming, did not belong.  There was an eclectic gathering of people.  Much as there is in many households around America. The only difference is that in most houses the collection of diverse personalities have the same last name or are related to someone of the hoist’s surname.  Our table was surrounded with people with different surnames.  Some related to the host and many just acquaintances in one manner or the other.  It was a normality that I had thought did not belong.

            Our table was filled to over flowing with traditional American food, much as most American tables.  It had the expected offering of turkey, dressing, vegetables, and more pies than a person should eat in a life time.  This is, again, a normalcy that I thought may not exist in our Thanksgiving in the desert.  The banter around the table consisted of talk about work and its frustration, about family and the sadness felt by their absence, and some small references to politics.  The later was generally not a prime topic of conversation because this was a dinner of peace and not a time to pontificate on divergent opinions of policy that would change absolutely nothing in the world and might cause much too much of an elevated blood pressure of frustration.  This was again, hopefully, not so dissimilar from most happy feast tables throughout our country.

            We started our 2 o’clock feast at nearly 3 o’clock, again all too normal.  As we all gathered to enjoy the wide selection of tastes before us we each individually gave a reason to be thankful.  It was thankfulness for family, for love, for the process of peace and for the chances to share a few moments with all of us that were gathered.  The same reason that you shared as you gave thanks at you table.  This was a feast of thanksgiving and I truly feel that everyone there was thankful for the opportunity to have someone with whom to share their feelings of gratitude.

            Our expected divergent feast of turkey and way too much food was as normal as I have ever experienced.  It is this unexpected description that best exemplifies the existence of TorC.  The unexpected element of this life experience picture was that there was nothing unexpected.  My rule of describing a scene or moment by accentuating the out of place element fully fits this memory.  There was not the expected unexpectedness.  It was a very normal holiday at RBHS, more turkey then we could eat, too many pies to consume, and a lot of men rubbing their new full tummies that now made them look much more like a 4 month pregnant squaw than a cowboy.  I hope that your holiday was as calm, peaceful and normal      as ours.

 PS

My wife has just reminded me of the one element of normalcy that was lacking from our dinner.  There was no football and I did not fall asleep in the chair pretending to watch it.

Date:                           November 22, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            I have a new profound bit of education to share with everyone.  As I continue to add years to my chronological age I surprise myself with the amount of knowledge that I have not yet learned.  As I have been taught I have already lived through the age of total intellect. It was the decade of knowledge that existed between my 15th birthday and my 25^th.  That is accepted as the decade when most people know everything there is to know, or at least that is what they think.  I am finding that nearly half a century later I still have a lot to learn and I am being taught lessons each and every day.

            So, you ask, what is the great lesson that I have recently learned and am now willing to share with all that have the misfortune to stumble on to my blog?  The lesson is that if you live in an RV and want to store you bikes outside, it is best not to place them near the exhaust of your diesel boiler system.  It seems that the heated diesel exhaust form our hydro-hot system is not beneficial to the life of the tires on the bikes.  Why did I not learn that during my decade of intellect?  If, as a teenager, I knew everything there was to know, why did I park my bike so that my now flat tire was in a direct line with the exhaust?  Did I mention that I had to repair my bike tire today?

            Fixing a bike tire is not the thing of which memories are made. I do hope that I remember to park my bike someplace else from now on.  I had to first remove the tire so I could find the reason that it was so soft.  I had a good idea why.  I think it had a lot to do with the lack of air in the tube.  I finally removed the tire with the aid of a lot of wrenches, a few nicked knuckles and a lot of blue vocabulary. It is really wonderful how tight they can get those wheel nuts on a bike at the factory.  I then took the tube inside and played the “if I blow it up and place it in the water it will bubble game.”  At first I could not find any bubbles, just a lot of water running down the front of the sink cabinet.  Rubber inner tubes are springy and difficult to handle in a small sink.  Soon I noticed a very fine line of air bubbles escaping from a pin hole near the valve stem.  I guess that was the closest spot to the exhaust.  I guess now I need a new inner tube.

            Getting a bike tube should be an easy chore.  But, you must remember that we are in TorC.  I walked down the street to the local auto parts and miscellaneous stuff store.  I found all sorts of things, some of which had something to do with cars.  I could have purchased tools, heaters, car parts, and any sort of smelly thing to hang from my car or RV mirror.  I could, however, not buy a bike tire inner tube.  The sales clerk was kind enough to direct me to the Pixie Store just around the corner.  He was quite sure that they might carry just what I needed.  I thanked him and continued on my walking sojourn through the streets of ToC.

            Walking through TorC is as much an adventure as are most simple things around here.  There are the normal places to eat, a few drug stores, and a collection of off the wall galleries, health store, and eclectic containers of stuff.  If you do not feel like you have landed on another world you will feel like you have stepped back in time to the hippy 60s.  Every store, be it a gallery, a health food store, a massage pallor, or whatever, will have its collections of hanging beads and burning incense.  Every store front is a collection of wild paint colors and samples of, seemingly, drug induces art.  It is a stroll through my teenage past just to walk the streets of this small oasis called TorC.

            I finally found the Pixie Store.  It is a place that Connie and I had seen many times but were not sure we wanted to venture inside.  This was a mistake on our part.  Inside this very unassuming store is almost everything you ever thought you might want.  You probably do not want it any more, but you can remember a time in your past when that is exactly what you were looking to purchase.  It is probably is still in the same box or wrapper it was some 50 years ago when you first wanted it.  It may be the same item, just sitting on the shelf awaiting your arrival.  It is a store that you could, and probably will, get lost in.  It took me nearly half an hour to buy my bike tire inner tube. Not because I could not find it, but because I could not extract myself from this treasure chest of stuff and more stuff. 

            To make a simple story come to an end, I fixed my tire tube.  Not by replacing the tube, but by filling the tube with some tire repair green slime that is guaranteed to fix any hole up to an 1/8 of an inch big.  The Pixie not only had this magic solution, they had more than one brand from which to choose.  As of yesterday afternoon, the tire was still inflated and could carry my body wherever I wanted to ride my bike.  I have now parked my bike on the opposite side of the RV from the diesel exhaust pipe.  And I have a new place to wander off to if I feel like getting lost in yesterday.  I would say it was a pretty good day.  I learned a lesson, rode my bike and discovered a new treasure in TorC.  By the way, it is still a clear blue sky day, it is still nearly 70 degrees, and it is still one day away from Thanksgiving.  It is a normal day in TorC, but it sure feels great to a northeastern visitor.

PS    Yes I remember where I was 40 plus years ago today.  I was in high school, in Mrs. Foxes World History class.  There was a knock on the door and a teary eyed messenger from the school office came and delivered the news that forever changed our lives.

Date:                           November 21, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

1000

            It is another day in TorC and the sky is blue, the temperature is warm and it is nearly Thanksgiving.  Coming from the northeast, this is not the norm.  I can remember many, well maybe one or two, Thanksgivings when we would have the front door open and the sky outside was a clear blue.  I can remember these days, but it certainly was not the normal expected weather on or near the celebration of over eating day.  Usually the front door was open because the house was filled with steam and glorious smells emanating from the over used kitchen.  If we were lucky enough to have a clear day and the temperature was not too close to freezing we would open the door to allow some of the moisture and wonderful aromas to venture forth into the world.

            Here at TorC, the door is open and the windows are begging fresh air to enter the house, not because it is needed for ventilation, but because it is nearing the mid 60s out side and it is not even noon yet.  Our Thanksgiving dinner is not yet on the stove, but it will be in a couple of days.  We will gather with 30 or 40 of our newest acquired acquaintances and enjoy a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Only this year it will served outside as a pot-luck dinner at Riverbend Hot Springs.  Maybe traditional dinner is a bit extreme as a description. I have found very little in or around TorC to fit the northeastern description of traditional.  It will be, however, a Thanksgiving that I am sure I will remember.

            We still have 2 days to prepare for this new adventure and a lot of time to attempt to open our minds to the new experiences.  It is difficult to ever be totally prepared for the new day at RBHS.  If you remember, I told you that if ever we think we are getting bored around here a door opens and a new story walks through that will for ever make that day a moment in your memories.  It will, for what ever reason, cause a memory to be permanently etched in your experience treasure chest.

            We had a simple example of this philosophy occur just a couple of days ago. Connie and I had just completed our tour of duty at the RBHS and were just getting home when we were greeted at our front door by the pastor of the Methodist church.  He was on his way home after doing some repairs around the church and thought he might stop in for a visit.  This is not terribly rare, albeit a bit out of our normal routine.  We normally expect someone to make arrangements for a pastoral visit, but this is TorC and he is a nice person so we invited him in for a few moments. Normally I would expect a non scheduled visit to last a half hour at the longest and consist of a few simple questions and a chance for every one to place a face with a name.  Maybe there would be a question about where we were from and how we relate to our home church.  There might even be a question on how we saw ourselves integrating with the local church in TorC.  The congregation is quite small and very friendly and I am sure happy to see any new faces in the pews on Sunday.

            This is TorC, remember and Connie and I had had a quite boring day at the simple chores we had been assigned to complete for RBHS.  I asked the pastor how he managed to find himself in TorC since we had learned that he was originally from California.  That simple question started a 2 hour story of the pastor’s very rugged travels through life.  It covered a divorce, a wife’s suicide attempt, a son’s 80 foot fall from a tree that should have killed him, and many more trials and tribulations that have formed his life. There were times when he was on the edge of his emotions and many times when we were just awe struck that this man had made it through life not to mention that he now was a councilor and pastor.  Connie ad I told him that he should write a book about his life.  He told us that it would have to be a work of fiction because no one would ever believe it was real.  No day is ever boring at TorC, you just have to answer the door to venture into a world of near fantasy and fiction with the real people that have lived the experience.

            To put a semi punctuation on this story and visit, because we are sure there is much more to this story than a couple of hours could cover.  We spent Sunday afternoon at a local restaurant with the pastor, a lay leader of the church and the pastor’s 92 year old mother.  By the way the pastor’s mother offered to do a table dance, but thought she might have a little trouble getting up on the table.  She also said that probably no one would care to watch anymore.  I could tell by the glint in her eye and the smile on her shiny face that this may not have always been the case.

            TorC is many things, some good and some maybe not as great.  TorC is never boring.  Be it at a Sunday lunch with the pastor, his mother and the lay leaders of the church, or at a “traditional” Thanksgiving dinner.  It will be fun to see just what passes as”traditional” at RBHS come this Thursday.  It may be fun; it may be terrifying; it may be awkward; but I can almost guarantee that, it will not be boring.

Date:                           November 18, 2006                           

Location:                    TorC, NM

1000

            It is almost time for Connie and me to go to work and complete our latest 3 day cycle of 3 days on work and 3 days off.  To complete this 6 day cycle it has taken nearly a week and a half.  To those of you that are now running to get your calculator and a sharper pencil let me explain.  Dave and Mary had called and said that they would like to stop and visit us on their way through.  They are headed to Tucson, with almost everyone else we know, and thought that they might stop in Las Cruces and drive up to explore TorC and the Hot Springs.  This was a great idea and we made plans to switch a work day with our other work campers to allow us a chance to be tour guides. To make a long story shorter there were a few schedule changes and a few day changes and a few more schedule changes and few more day changes and then they were here.  It really does not matter how we got there, it only matters that we did finally achieve our goal.  That goal was to spend a very wonderful day with some very close friends.

            Connie started the day off with a great lunch of Rubye’s spicy soup and fresh salad.  She topped that off with a tropical sherbet and vanilla cookie dessert.  This is starting to look like a great day.  As is normal when Dave and Mary arrive in our little world there was a lot more talking than there was eating.  We always seem to each have so many stories to tell and catching up to do that the time flies quickly by and soon the lunch hour is over and the lunch plate is still full.  We did manage to complete our fantastic lunch and some of us even had seconds.  We all know it probably was not me, because I was spending most of my time talking and chewing.  There can be a disadvantage to always having stories to tell, but then I live here and we get to keep the leftovers.

            We took Dave and Mary on the obligatory tour of Riverbend and TorC.  I am sure we bored the heck out of them, but if they ever find time to read my meanderings they will now have a better idea of just what I am talking about.  Or at least they will have a picture in their minds eye of where I am talking about.  Sometimes I question if I know what I am talking about.  After our tour of the near areas of TorC we ventured out to Elephant Butte and toured the state park.  It is a beautiful sight and a place that every visitor must visit at least once.  The weather was, as normal, beautiful and the lake glistened in the sun.  There was even a large sail boat navigating the marina just to add a bit of poetic beauty to the scene. It is nice to show off your home, even if it is a temporary home, to your friends and have them appreciate it as much as you do.  It is also nice of Mother Nature to cooperate and show the area in its most pleasant beauty.  The sun and shadows in New Mexico do paint an ever changing artistic display on the mountains and scenery.  The state does live up to its name of, “The Land of Enchantment.”

            While we were standing at the overlook watching the sail boat motor through the marina Mary so eloquently describe a fascinating aspect of our fulltime life style.  She said that it was a comforting feeling to be able to reconnect with their close RV friends.  It does not matter how long they have been apart, with in a few moments of hugs and welcomes it is like they have never been away.  If you have never been in a friendship with those dynamics I feel you may not totally understand the feeling.  It is nice to know that Connie and I are on Dave’s and Mary’s list of dear friends that are that close to them in spirit if not physically.  It is also nice to know that they are on our list.  To put it a bit more simply, a true friend is not just someone that is close at hand but someone who is always close in spirit.

            We finished our day long visit with a dinner at the most authentic Mexican restaurant in TorC.  That is what Doc told us at Riverbend, and after a very good not terribly expensive dinner, I can not disagree.  I am not sure any of us are totally sure of exactly what we had for our meal. I do know that we each gladly took home what little was left on our plates and we look forward to enjoying it for lunch or as part of a leftover dinner.  We were a bit sorry to find a smoker in the restaurant, but it was near the end of our meal and it was time for us to leave anyways, full tummies and small containers of tortilla wrapped food in hand. 

            It took us a few more minutes to say goodbye and wish safe travels to Dave and Mary as they headed back to their home and on to new adventures.  The sad thing is that we will not see them until sometime next summer.  The really great thing is that when we do see them it will take us a nano-second to reconnect and feel as if we had never been apart.  The only difference is that we each will have new stories to tell and the desert will be way west of us.  That is unless our paths cross sooner and lives again become entwined for a short visit and rejuvenation.

Date:                           November 16, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

1010

            In the life of a full time RVer it is very important to find a place that will satisfy the simple needs of life at a reasonable cost.  To you normal people living in wooden boxes this is called shopping.  Yesterday Connie and I loaded ourselves in our SUV and went to accomplish some shopping.

            Our main goal was to find a birthday present for Beth.  I would tell you what it was but she may be reading this and the package has just been mailed so I know she does not have it yet.  She may be reading this and I may be able to fly.  Last weekend Connie and I were in Las Cruces for lunch and we were looking for a special store to do some birthday shopping.  I knew that the store was in Las Cruces because I had looked it up on the web, but I had failed to put the address in Sacke so we were on our own.  Needless to say over the last week I had re-located the address and now had Sacke to direct me to the right side of I-25.  Sacke is much better at finding hidden stores that I am.  They hid it right in the middle of a large strip mall. How devious.

            Driving to Las Cruces is a trip through why I will probably never live in New Mexico, the southwestern part of the USA, or at least in TorC.  It is not a bad trip in the southwest mentality.  It is a good straight shot south down I-25 from TorC.  The speed limit is 75 mph, which means that you make the 80 or so mile trip in about an hour, give or take a little traffic.  The scenery is awesome in a desert rugged kind of way.  It usually does not rain or even have a cloud in the sky as you make the sojourn south, so the sun plays beautiful visual pictures of the landscape.  The brightness of the sun brings out the many different colors of the minerals in the rocks and mountains and the shadows are ever changing so that the scenery seems to be in constant motion.  As I have stated in previous blogs, the best ways to describe the views are to note the things that seemingly do not belong.  In a rugged unrelenting terrain of sand and rocks you see deep green creosote bushes dotting the flat rolling desert plains.  Off in the distant, at this time of year, you see brightly lit explosions of yellows and oranges as the pecan trees prepare to loose their leaves.  If this is not enough to tease everyone’s senses there is the jutting sharply jagged mountains that rise from the horizon.  To put it simply, it is a pleasant drive.  My problem is that it is a pleasant drive.

            In the southwest I have found it necessary to drive a couple of hundred miles to do almost anything.  And this is accepted by the people that live here.  Once you have arrived at you destination you seem to have removed yourself from the aura of the southwest and placed yourself in an eastern impression of what the south west should be. There are the obligatory adobe houses, now on top of each other, there are the expected pink and rose colored over passes, and of course there is an enormous amount of traffic.  Except for the fake adobe and pink guardrails you could be in any city, USA.  I am not sure this is a bad thing, only it is a thing that I am not sure I purely enjoy.

            We did find the presents that we had originally desired.  We did go to Wal-Mart and accomplish our bi-weekly food restocking and we did have a decent lunch at the food court in the mall.  This should have been, and was on many levels, a good day.  But as we drove those miles and miles to accomplish our chores Connie and I were discussing the place in this country that we might, someday, want to settle down and pretend we are normal.  Neither of us listed TorC as our first choice.  Actually we did not list any place in the southwest as our first choice, even though there are many places we have enjoyed visiting. We are enjoying our excursion into the life of a southwestern cowboy from TorC, but I fear that we did not place this on our list of most favorite places.  How does that sadly over used cliché go?  It is a great place to visit, but I don’t think I want to live there.

Miles Traveled           180 Shopping

Date:                           November 15, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            I am not going to postulate on some extremely important political event this morning.  I am not going to bore you with some long dissertation on my valuable opinion on some topic that most people don’t care about.  As far as politics, my wife is disgusted at the constant bickering and the newly elected Democratic artists of change are about to elect a crook to lead the House and the Republicans have elected a bigot and racist to lead the Senate.  My wife is right, it all makes me sick. So much for any chance of change in the cesspool we call Washington.

            My meandering blog today is about cleaning our home’s rug. This is a chore that is delegated to me on occasion and yesterday was such an occasion.  This is not the fodder of which great stories are made.  As a matter of fact this is, pretty much, the end of a story that had a thoughtful beginning.  It may not have been the smartest and most elegant beginnings but it was met to be thoughtful.

            A couple of days ago we were doing our impersonation of work camping and Connie asked me to come over home and fix some lunch.  Being a half way decent husband I agreed.  She also asked me to find a plastic container and its top to bring back to the office.  This I promised to do, realizing that if the container and top did not have a neon light over it I might not be totally successful.  It was off to the RV for a Tuna sandwich and a Cool Whip container.

            This is where the thoughtfulness comes into the picture.  I know that my wife likes her sandwich toasted, so I placed a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster.   I also noticed that a simple tuna sandwich was not all that grand so I started looking for a little something to add to this eloquent lunch.  Luck was on my side. I found a small amount of pasta soup in the fridge and decided that I could warm that up and make a decent offering for my wife.  As all of this was being nuked or toasted I decided to try and find my assigned treasures, the Cool Whip container and its top.  I was to have half a success.  The container nearly jumped out at me as I opened the cupboard door and pulled out some of the contents.  I mean literally, almost jumped out at me.  I caught the plastic projectile and continued to search for its hat.  Needless to say, the neon light must have been off.  I could not find the top.  The toaster had dinged and the microwave was buzzing.  I quickly made the sandwich, spooned some soup into a bowl and thought I would make one more fast attempt at finding that stupid plastic top.

            The clock kept ticking and by now the toasted sandwich was starting to cool and the pasta was following the temperature decline.  I did want to serve my wife a lunch that was, at least, warm.  I made one more quick survey of the stuff in the cupboard, but there seemed to be no top that came close to fitting the container.  The sandwich and pasta soup were cooling and I was heating up.  I guess I will just have to hope that a nice lunch, albeit a little late and maybe a bit cool, would be enough to cover up my searching inadequacy.  I placed all of the gourmet food on a plate and rushed to the door, topless container in hand.

            I was a bit late and the food was cooling, so I decided to slip on my cheap sneakers and rush the food to my wife while it was still semi eatable.  My cheap sneaks usually are in front of the door and I have bent the heels down so that I can slip my feet in quickly and step down the few stairs that lead out of our home.  This is usually a good thing and a quick way to exit the RV.  Today it was not to be.  I quickly slipped on my shoes and also slipped on the rug that was under my shoes.  The next thing I saw were my feet flying in the air, a tuna sandwich coming at me from the heavens and pasta soup, red sauce and all, filling the air all around my flying body.  Of course the reddest of the red sauce landed on the rug, the sandwich landed on the plate and I landed on my pride.  I gathered up what ever was still able to be eaten and carried my wounded pride and bruised ego across the street and presented my wife with her lunch and a seeming hysterical story.  I was not in a funny mode but it seemed that she was.

            Yesterday I finished the chore I started during my lunch break.  I had removed most of the red spots and pasta leavings, but I did manage to find a few spots of decoration that I think did not belong.  My ego is still a bit damaged, but that is mending as we store this little adventure in our story telling bin.  The pasta was good on the first sampling of it, I am not sure how it was after its microwaving, air floating excursion.  And our rug is now all spiffy clean and has those nap highlights that reeks of cleanliness.  I never did find the top to that stupid container, but I guess we did not really need it.  I am thinking of buying a covered basket to carry lunches across the street.

            If there is a lesson to be learned form all of this flying food.  It may be that a wife should never send her husband a chore that has too many tasks assigned. We, as husbands, are a simple minded animal and we get so confused so easily.  We also seem to have a very bad sense of balance and tend to be a bit clumsy.

Date:                           November 11, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, NM

0930

            The nights are beginning to get a bit cooler.  Our heat pumps are finding less and less heat to extract from the cool overnight air and early this morning my wife got up and switched over to our furnace.  I would have done that, but I was hiding under the blankets and really did not notice that our heat pumps were over stressing a bit. I am sure that I would have ventured from the valley of counterpane eventually, but rising before the sun is a violation of my moral code on most days.  I must admit that it was pleasant to step forth into a warm bedroom when I did rise at a somewhat more reasonable hour.

            Today is Veteran’s Day and I am sure that I will, or need to expound a bit on what that means to me as I sit at nearly 60 years old, in the desert of New Mexico and an honorably discharged serviceman.  My initial problem is that I am not sure how to begin. Do you say, “Happy Veteran’s Day?”  I find that there is little or no happiness connected with the need to celebrate this day.  I am pleased and honored to be part of a country that does, for a moment, seemingly take time to reflect on what each and every soldier has sacrificed for his country and countrymen.  I am in awe of the men and women that, still to this day, volunteer their lives and well being to fight for what they perceive are just and valuable reasons.  I am not happy that has happened or that it still needs to happen.  As was said on the news the other day by a soldier in Iraq, “No one wins a war.”  You only loose lives, break things.  For that I can find no happiness.

            I would like to say to each veteran that I respect them and the decisions that they have made.  I would like to do that, but reality and experience will not allow me.  Phrases like Abu-grave and Mei-Lie will forever prevent me from honestly mouthing those words.  There are many “respect” deserving men and women that have served our country for good or bad reasons.  There are honors still untold that describe the multitude of servicemen, but there are moments of enormous dishonor that must also never be forgotten less they be repeated on a future deployment.  I have served with and experienced the honor that can be exemplified in the heart and soul of an American soldier.  I have seen fear in the eyes of a man as he performs his duties under duress and adversity and still accomplish his assignment out of honor and duty to his country.   I have seen this same man drink too much, swear too much and engage in activities that he would protest against from his church pulpit.  The Yin and Yang of a real veteran is that these expressions of honor and dishonor are often not so distantly removed from each other.  The reality of war is that nothing is real.

            I honor the veterans that have served, are serving or will in the future serve this country.  I honor them because they serve.  They serve as a slave serves his master.  It is not the slave’s fault that the poppies grown will be sold as heroin.  It is not the slave’s fault that he is expected to break things and kill people, as is the basic description of any army.  It may be the obligation of each individual to avoid the sins against humanity.  I do realize that the fog of war will first hide truth and then destroy the connection of the here and now to the reality of a normal life.  I do honor each and every veteran that has made that sojourn through hell called service to his country.  I honor them for the good that guided them and accomplishments that I pray they have made in the name of our country.  I will let any forgiveness needed come from the only one that can, or should, be allowed to offer that, our Lord.

            So on this Veteran’s Day 2006, I say bless you that are alive and satisfied with your service to protect our freedoms.  I say thank you for those that went before me and paved the road of liberty on which I travel today. I say be careful and wise to those of you that are now serving.  I am not happy nor do I wish a false happiness to any that have served, are serving, or will at sometime in the future find it necessary to serve.  I am, however proud to say that I have been, and will forever be, one of you.

            Veteran’s Day 2006.  May it be the last Veteran’s Day we ever have to celebrate while we are still placing the youth of our country in harms way.

Date:                           November 10, 2006                          

Location:                    TorC, N

0845

                        In front of our rig and just across the road is a piece of art being created.  Kat, our resident artist, is painting a mural on the once blank wall of the main housing building at RBHS.  When we arrived the wall was just a white block silhouetted against a harsh desert mountain horizon.  It has, over the last few weeks, become a symbol of the changes we are noticing taking place here.  It is, as are the improvements, a work in progress, but it is happening and it is subtly changing the surroundings.  I would like to think that Connie and are having some affect on the whole process.

            The work being done at RBHS is mostly at the direction and desire of Jake.  He has a vision and is working many long hours at achieving that goal.  It may be a new coat of paint in a room or a new bathroom in another boarding area.  It may be a new apartment for rental availability, or a new area of landscaping molded and designed out of timbers and local plants.  Each morning as we awake Connie and I notice a new color added to our front window mural or a new scene emerging from the mind of Kat as the mural grows.  We also notice a new area at RBHS either refurbished or newly enhanced.  It is a work in progress and each day we can notice a real sense of progress being accomplished.  We are enjoying the opportunity to be a part of a living and growing business.

            As I said, we do like thinking that we are a productive element in the changes being made.  Connie has organized the office and is trying to get everyone on the same level of organization.  She has cleaned out the desk drawers and found things that, I am sure, no one had any idea ever existed.  She has also thrown away a few things that some people are not so happy about.  But, they have learned that an office is not a place to hide your candy or old dog biscuits.  It is surprising how simply and quickly people learn to take care of there extra things.  Instead of just throwing them in a draw they now bringing their old dog treats in a Tupperware container and takeing them home after their work shift.  Apparently dogs are not the only animals that can be trained.

            Last night as Connie and I walked around the campus to catch up on the new shelves, landscape progress and mural advancements we stopped to discuss the mural with Kat.  She had made a lot of changes and added a lot of color over the last couple of days and was now at a bit of a pause.  I guess artist reach a creative point where the juices of energy out work the steam of creativity and Kat was at that point.  She liked what she had done, but was a bit unsure where the jump in progress was going to take her now.  As we were taken on a tour of her mural by Kat we could sense an aura of lost direction from her. We enjoyed the symbolism that she had placed in the mural.  There was the necessary turtle on the mountain for Turtleback Mountain.  There was also a large sea turtle swimming across center of the mural, I think in response to Connie’s desire to have a turtle for Heidi.  There is also a crane peacefully resting on the waters shore with many more birds and animals to be discovered in Kats artistic creativity.  But, for now, Kat had a large hole in the center of the painting that she was quite unsure of just how to incorporate it into her artistic work.  After a chance to talk with Connie and me I think that she may have found a direction and a new perspective.  I am not trying to take credit for her artistic epiphany.   But, as I stated at the start of this days monolog, I would like to think that maybe Connie and I can still feel like we are a part of the thought and energy that is beginning to define the new Riverbend Hot Springs.

PS

You can see Kat's mural, a work in progress, if you click on the TorC life picture album. 

Date:                           November 2, 2006    

Location:                    TorC, NM

0900

            In our busy hectic life as a work camper Connie and I get 3 days off every 3 days.  This is of little interest to most of you, but it is a lead in to what I plan on pontificating about this morning.  You see, yesterday was our day off and we decided to explore a bit of the New Mexico that exist near us in TorC.

            After a very leisurely morning we decided to walk to the Geronimo Museum in downtown TorC.  It is a very nice small town museum with a much diversified collection of historical and cultural information.  There is, of course, a full size life statue of the famous Indian with a clenched fist and a very angry determined look in his glass eyes.  The statue is made of wax and looks very real and a bit scary.  We were informed that he never was a chief of the Apache’s but definitely one of their greatest leaders.  He also had seven wives, so I question his total intelligences.

            The museum also has a large display of the prehistoric fossils and skulls found in and near TorC.  It seems that at one time some few million years ago there were more elephants roaming the prairie than there seem to be now.  I may be glad about that.  I can not imagine the wait at the one stop light in town for a herd of mastodons to proceed from one side of town to the other.  I can only have nightmares about a large herd of mastodons eating a field of peppers and then doing what a herd of mastodons would then have to do.  Talk about a driving hazard.

            This small gathering of historic artifacts called the Geronimo Historical Museum also has a full room dedicated to the original TV show called Truth or Consequences and the story behind how this town got its name.  It is a story that you can look up if you wish, just know that there is a reason that Hot Springs, NM disappeared and TorC emerged.  It is of such importance that that day and event is still celebrated every year at the towns biggest Fiesta and social gathering.  Sadly, Connie and I got here to late this year and will leave too early next year to help in the celebration.

            Another small room that caught my attention while visiting this local historical display was the area dedicated to the people that have lost innocence and some their lives in service to our country.  There are areas in New Mexico that seem so removed from reality you might feel that you have been relocated to another universe.  The social attitude and life style here appears, to we northeastern re-plants, to be of such a foreign stature that it can cause an aura of discomfort and abandonment.  It is not the people that we interact with that exude that emotion, but the life style is of such a difference that one can find it quizzical at least.  As strange as that may seem, at times, I was still standing in a room full of memorabilia of citizens that had offered their lives to fight for a country that may never understand the true meaning of the state motto of “The Land of Enchantment”, or even know that New Mexico is a real state and not a foreign territory.

            It is very sad to stand among the memories of people and souls that have given so fully of themselves to join an organization whose sole purpose is to “Kill people and break things.”  I realize that this is an obligation of one generation to secure the blessing of our freedom and liberty for future generations.  I realize that, in some cases, this was an obligation that has provided this country with the freedom and liberties that we now enjoy. I realize this because this is what I have been taught.  Yet in the year 2006 we are still killing people and breaking things and yet I feel that our freedom and liberties are now at more of risk than they ever have been in our countries history.

            I may have irritated some who have chosen to read this, and for that I apologize.  Yet it was me that stood in that room of memories of souls that have died for our country.  It was those people that allow me to pontificate and express an opinion that may not be appreciated by all.  And today we are still killing innocent lives, breaking people’s homes and well being, and still we have leaders that are no more dirty or scratched then they were in the past.  At least Geronimo had a clenched fist and a dirty scratched hand.  If he was not the chief he at least led from the front of the line and not from behind a podium.

Miles Traveled           94        Exp