January Eats: Octopus Chicharrones

Beloved Husband and I tried out a new restaurant. On the menu: Octopus Chicharrones. 

Sounds: questionable.

Was: delicious. 

Jiggedy-Jig

 Herself speaks.

The past two weeks were a whirlwind of travel, for volunteering things and Offspring-social-related-things, and it was all good and motivating and very intensive and holy cow, my brain and my feet and my capacity for interaction with other human beings are all so tired. I want to just sit in the quiet of my house. But work is Oh So Busy and Life Continues Apace, so I march forward, one day at a time, trying to get things done. 

I am also trying not to read the news, because the news continues to be just SO TERRIBLE (not to mention occasionally ridiculous). I can only focus on so much at once -- full-on, self-protective mode, here we are. 

Yesterday at the end of the business lunch, my fortune cookie was vaguely ominous. It could be interpreted as positive, but all I could think was, Please, NO, Universe, I have learned enough lessons for now, I do not need any more. 

On we go. One step at a time. 

New Adventures

Today, I left Offspring the First at the airport, along with two suitcases that combined likely weighed more than she does, and off she went to Brand New Shiny Adventures. 

She's flying away from the Nest. 

We wish good things for you Always, Beautiful Child. Fly free and find all the marvelous places and peoples and adventures! 

Solo Adventures

Everyone else in the household had plans to do various things today, so I decided to take myself to the Zoo. I'd been wanting to go to the Zoo for a while, and it seemed like a very good day to do so: partially sunny, breezy, a chill in the air -- perfect walking weather.  

Off I went. I did feel vaguely awkward as a solitary middle-aged woman at a location so clearly geared toward families with young children; however, my goal is to become more comfortable just Doing Things and Going Places by myself, so I pretended I was unbothered while I took a lengthy stroll. There were a lot of changes since the last time I had been to the Zoo; there were not many animals, but there was an abundance of activities -- climbing structures, merry-go-round, face-painting, and more -- to make the Zoo a more interactive experience. Nice improvements to the Zoo, I think. 

I got myself a late lunch on the way home to round out the trip. All in all, it was a successful expedition, and it was motivational to plan additional excursions in the future. So far, so good. 

Please enjoy a few photos of the adventure. 

Tiger snoozing in the sun. 

Lion taking a stroll. 

I have always liked this statue.

The Mexican wolves, all lined up like dogs in the sun.

The solitary meerkat. A small sign said,

don't worry, we are arranging for new friends for him.

The red river hogs.

The one on the left was chirping in a bird-like manner. Neat.

Flashback - in a Box

Yesterday's Facebook Flashback - a reminder of an excellent desert adventure. Seems like more than eleven years ago. Or perhaps much less. 

I did enjoy Percha Box very much. Perhaps someday I'll go there again.

I do need to plan some more Adventures for myself. It's been hard to focus on the things I might enjoy, what with the State of the World, The Plague, various Ailing Relatives, Copious Amounts of Work, and such. Perhaps a little imagining Good Things would be help.

The Sun and The Moon

Eleven trips around the sun ago yesterday, we watched the moon come up over Aden Crater. And today more than ever, I am thankful for that day and that company in that beautiful place. I may not be able to recapture those moments, but I will always remember and be grateful. 

Spontaneous

Herself speaks.

Despite being a Definitely Not-Spontaneous Person, I was invited to join Beloved Husband who was participating in a four-wheeling fest nearby (about 100 miles away, as the crow flies). And I decided to go.

I pulled out my camping gear box, put a snack and a meal into a cooler, threw some clothes into a bag, and off I went.

All my gear worked Just Right, and I had everything I needed. The drive was pleasant, the sleeping comfortable (despite the occasional giant four-wheeling vehicle passing by like a lumbering stegosaurus). It was nice not to be at the house, feeling obligated to clean or tidy or organize.

The bunnies did just fine for 20 hours without me, which was comforting. (This was the first trial run of their being by themselves overnight.) Now I know that I can, if I so desire, pull out my camping gear box once more and disappear for a short while.

Perhaps I shall.

The Mountain

 Since we postponed the trip to visit my parents, Beloved Husband and I decided to have a little adventure. We chose to go climb Guadalupe Peak (which we had climbed twice already, years ago), and we thought, let's camp at the campsite on the mountain. We'd only camped at the base of the mountain before; camping up on the mountain would require carrying tent, accoutrements, food, and extra water up the trail. We planned out what we would need, packed our backpacks, and off we went.

It was... quite the climb.

The trail was familiar in places -- didn't we take a family photo right there? I know Cherished Friend and I stopped for a rest over there. I know we have a picture of one or two of the Offspring sitting on that very rock --  and yet it was so steep, so long, and so much more difficult than I remembered. (Granted, nine years had passed since the last time we'd gone to the summit.) We had to rest frequently. The sun was strong and the breeze was small. I was determined, though. And we did. 

Beloved Husband told me afterward that he was waiting for me to throw in the towel and decide to turn around and go back. That never crossed my mind, though. The plan was to get to the top, eventually. And we succeeded.

It was a worthwhile trip. I am glad I did it, even if I didn't necessarily enjoy the hike. (At all.) It was the first time Beloved Husband and I had planned a trip together in a long while, and it was good to do something together. And there was a lot of satisfaction in not having to think much, or to do anything except hike and rest. It was a slightly bittersweet journey, with reminiscences of earlier days juxtaposed against the knowledge that it's unlikely I will ever climb to that peak again.

The view from the top was spectacular. The area is so much greener than usual -- the heavy rains that we have had recently have caused everything to bloom spectacularly. Glorious. I will hold on to that view in my mind's eye for a long, long time. 

Trail.

View from the campsite.

Views in all directions.

Lovely tree.

Trail fit for a mountain goat.

Spectacular.

Glorious.

So green.

Bridge.

Very plummet-y bit near the top.

There it is!

Peak.

The end.

Highest Point in Texas

Scenic

Things to Do

 One of my big projects ends mid-May, and so I've started making a list of Things To Do, not only to celebrate completion of that project, but also, to begin to ease myself back into the world. (I'm in no hurry to get back into the world. But if I am going to travel to see my parents or Cherished Friend at some point in the future, I need to get back to Ordinary Public Activities.) Let's see -- so far, I have (starting small, and increasing in complexity):

1. Go in-person to the pet store to get rabbit supplies

2. Go for a hike someplace nice. Perhaps Aguirre Springs

3. Go to one of my favorite outdoor places, such as White Sands or Carlsbad Caverns

I... can't think of anything else right now. I'm struggling with fatigue and migraine (still), and it's hard to find the motivation to plan activities, let alone execute such plans. Perhaps, though, being outside for a bit will make Things Better. 

There will be better days. 

A new blossom sprouts from the roots.

I hope for the same for myself, as well. 

TRX

In the quest for a good mental getaway, I have found this RV: the Phoenix TRX.  I'm rather partial to the configuration with a dinette and couch (rather than two couches). It seems like a great vehicle for a solitary adventure, with just the right amount of space, storage, pantry, kitchen, dry bath, everything that is needed and nothing more. True, one would have to fold down the couch into a bed to sleep really comfortably, but that's OK -- the arrangement does not need a slideout, thereby minimizing extra weight and reducing a need to a large parking space. 

It's a bit hard to find videos showing the vehicle online, but there are a few (here's one), and I find them soothing. I don't know where I'd go, but I do know what I'd pack. Perhaps someday. We'll see. 

Image found here: https://familyrvingmag.com/2019/12/02/phoenix-trx/

Abuzz

 For your viewing pleasure, a few more photographs from the camping trip last weekend.  We were in the middle of nowhere, and it was lovely to be outside and Away From It All. The only problem was: the bugs.

Not mosquitoes or gnats. No, nothing that mundane.

Rather, several different species of bee/wasp/hornet/STINGING THING.

They were merely searching for water, poor things; it was extremely dry up there. Nevertheless, it was QUITE ALARMING, especially when Tiny Dog attempted to snap at them as they flew by. NO, Tiny Dog. Do not eat the spicy sky raisins. Even when we were packing up to go home, she peered out the car window and kept a tight eye on all the bugs.

Bzzzt.

You can have that spork, Ms. Scary Bug.

I SEE YOU!

Imbibing water that had dripped to the ground.

Still, all-in-all it was very nice to escape reality for a little while. 

10,593

 Herself speaks.

Twenty-nine years ago, Beloved Husband and I got married. A blink of an eye, and here we are, ten thousand, five hundred and ninety-three days later. The days -- and the years -- blend together in a tapestry of all the big and the small moments: children, pets, homes, jobs, travels, extended family gatherings. Conversations and silences, joys and sorrows, agreements and disagreements and compromises, and growth, both individually and together. A forest of memories. Where does the path lead us? We shall see. 

Happy anniversary, Beloved. 

Past Due

Herself speaks.

It's been six months since I visited White Sands National Monument with Cherished Friend. Six months -- plus one pandemic, and one 1700-mile move. How things have changed.

I used to see Cherished Friend with regularity; even when he was in a different corner of this desert land, he was within a few hours' drive, and I made a point to try to visit him, or host him here, every couple of months. Yet now that's no longer possible. And it is even more painfully obvious at this time, as I am reaching a point where I would normally be looking at the calendar, inquiring as to when he might be free, and mulling over what sort of hiking or outdoorsy activity we could undertake together.

The truth is: with the pandemic, I don't know when I'll see him in person again. And this fills me with incredible sadness.

All I can do is be patient, and hope for the best. And a vaccine.

We shall see how things unfold.

Ride

Herself speaks.

It has been four months since Beloved Husband purchased his motorcycle.  He has enjoyed it tremendously, regularly going for rides hither and yon. He has gone with some buddies from work, and Cherished Friend has joined him on occasion. I am glad that Beloved Husband has had experienced and reliable people with whom to enjoy riding.

A few weeks back, I spent a Saturday cleaning the house while they were out riding. I envied them their freedom. And so, a brief discussion later, Beloved Husband had ordered appropriate riding clothing for me. This past Friday, I made my first non-essential trip into a store, to purchase a helmet. And yesterday, we went for a ride.

Because Beloved Husband is a novice, it would have been extremely imprudent for us to ride together. (Cannot put all the parental eggs in one proverbial basket, even if the Offspring are essentially grown.) Cherished Friend graciously allowed me to sit as passenger on his bike. And off we all went.
-----

Being on a motorcycle is a full-body sensory experience: the sound of the wind, the smell of the grasses and the onion fields and the fried-food establishments, the scenery flashing by, the feel of the road. The wind quieted the noise inside my head. The mountains in the distance reminded me of the drives I have taken to Points North in the desert, where there would be hiking in the mountains and breakfast at IHOP and rummaging in the used book store. Along the ride, the trees were in full leaf, and the crops included all sorts of green sprouts, and there was water in the river. There was an occasional dog barking, and a cat stalking across the road, and another motorcycle passing by. Beloved Husband on the road ahead or in the rear-view mirror behind, and I in the moment where I sat. All I needed to do was stay well seated and go with the flow.

I was a little concerned about sitting so close to Cherished Friend, because I know he has a substantial Personal Space Sphere and I do not like to impinge upon his physical territory. He showed no signs of discomfort, though, and it was a bittersweet pleasure, to be in his close proximity knowing that the Divergence is on the horizon.

It was a SUPERB experience.

I will look back on the ride as a shining point in time, when all was, for the moment, well.

There Must Be A Story Behind This

Tired Tiny

Herself speaks.

Tiny Dog did not care for camping much. She was on High Alert the entire weekend, after barking at passers-by and rustling leaves and questionable twigs -- not to mention incessant snapping at every flying insect. (I tried to get some footage of her insect-hunting; half of the time, she would stop whenever I turned on the camera, and the other half of the time, Beloved Husband and Cherished Friend happened to be talking in the background. Once I reviewed the footage, I realized that I cannot post it, as their voices, like their faces, are private. Alas. You will just have to use your imagination for the incessant fly-snapping.)

By the time we were ready to go home, poor Tiny was exhausted. She climbed up to her favorite perch in the car -- on my shoulders -- and promptly fell asleep for the entire two-and-a-half-hour drive.

She is a pill. But she is adorable, too.

Manchild

Herself speaks.

Offspring the Third appeared to thoroughly enjoy exploring the woods and stream while we were out camping this past weekend. He found something he thought was particularly interesting -- a desiccated elk carcass --- and took me and Beloved Husband to see.

While he led the way through the woods, it was clear to me that he was in his element: he described the places where he had been previously and the best ways to cross the stream; he pointed out a striking, giant dead tree; and talked about the spiderwebs over the water and the quantity and types of spiders.

When we reached the point where we needed to cross the stream, he went first, stepping confidently across the flowing water using the narrow path of rocks. He paused while I followed him to check to ensure I had solid footing, and held out his hand to help me make the last jump back onto the bank.

It was genuinely touching. I did not feel self-conscious about taking his hand for the tricky parts, because he was so matter-of-fact and unassuming about his assistance -- a rare gift. I do not like to ask for help; and behold, because of his thoughtfulness, I did not need to do so. Yet still, I did receive that small piece of help I needed. It was lovely.

Sometimes, I still think of Offspring the Third as being very young. Yet seeing his confidence in the woods, and the way he explained the all that he had learned from his exploration and and how he patiently led us along his chosen path, I was aware more than ever that the last of my Offspring is now a young man, and that soon enough, his path will extend farther into the world than I have ever imagined.

Oh, Offspring the Third. I wish for you, that you and your kind heart will have have many, many enjoyable adventures in the years to come. Perhaps, if I am lucky, you will show me some more of your paths in the future.

Campground

Herself speaks.

We escaped briefly for the weekend: Beloved Husband, Offspring the Third, and I met up with Cherished Friend at a familiar, peaceful campground. Just what we needed.

I could see the stress and strain of Worldly Cares gradually fall away from the three menfolk. It was nice to see. They probably could have used more time away; this time, though, just the weekend would have to do.

I immersed myself in the quiet and the trees and read a somewhat weird but engrossing book. I could have used more time away, too.

Nevertheless: what a relief to be away from The Daily Grind.

It was Good.