Friday, September 27, 2013
The gale blew itself out overnight. In its wake comes the gentle pitter pat of raindrops on rooftops; it settles the dust and scrubs Lovely Ouray clean like a fresh coat of paint. Out the Imax, clouds swing low in veils, masking, except for a few teasing apertures, our steep surround of mountains. Steam rises vertically from the Hot Springs Pool. Golden leaves glisten with moisture and are still for the first time in days. Bobbie steps out onto the deck to gauge temperature—arms wrapped protectively against her chest, breath floating off to join the clouds. "Forty something," she guesses.Yesterday's demons have been purged, and all is well in The Crevice once again.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
"Mariah blows the stars around and sends the clouds a-flying, Mariah makes the mountain sound like folks were up there dying.
Marrriahhhhhhh...they call the wind Mariah."
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
There has been a seasonal shift, finally. Mountains surrounding our Lovely Crevice are capped with snow, the air slaps cheeks red with crispness, and summer's green leafs yields to autumnal gold coins fluttering in the breeze.
A "Postcard" social hike is on today's agenda. "To Simplify" Glenn lurks somewhere in town wanting to test his newfound hiking legs, Marathon Man is itching to ditch his clothes and jump into some ice-watered lake, and friends Martha and Tim are scheduled to join the above motley crew, thereby submitting to Mark and Bobbie's alter call—a soul salving, eye filling, spiritual awakening guaranteed to shake the fence-straddling legs of the most devout of agnostics.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
An email tipped us off that Joe and Tracey were headed cross country, all the way from Maryland, and planned to light in Lovely Ouray for a few days. Of course we planned a get together, one, because we enjoy meeting up with BCB readers and RV'ers, and two, because Joe was bringing along the new Yamaha Keyboard I've been coveting for over a year. So I went to the RV park to pick them up, toured their Lazy Daze...same exact model and color as ours, only a 2003...loaded his keyboard, guitar, and lovely wife...stopped for a couple of take out pizzas, and put all of a mile and a quarter on the Sue Bee. Ya gotta love the logistics of small towns :)
Sunday, September 15, 2013
"Summers and winters scattered like splinters...and four or five years slipped away." Jimmy Buffet has a way with lyrics, of putting Life in nutshells that even I can understand. When I stop and think about it, time is our most precious asset...if fact, it's all we have. You can run out of money, run out of love, run out of luck—even try to run away—but when one runs out of time, nothing else really matters.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
The spirit's "uptick" is in play—counting down the days now till Goldie's RV rubber hits the road. On the brink of Autumn my mental and emotional footing finds solid ground. The most tedious chores of summer are in the rearview mirror, and my Polo work-shirt is laundered, pressed and hanging in the closet awaiting a well tanned, rested, and wandered thin Gallery Boy's triumphant return from saguaro strewn deserts come spring. I take immense pleasure in performing the few remaining RV tasks—little toy projects compared those "life and death" maters from long ago treadmills...the one's where back seat driver bosses from hell scrutinize every move, or lack there of, and second guess. Indeed, by comparison, RV problems are water off this ugly duck's back.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Mike and Nancy, Marathon Man Leonard's brother and sis-in-law, came calling on him up in the Big Box, Californicated, Desert City of Mo-Town...said they'd like to do a light hike someplace Purdy (they're from Austin and that's how they tawlk). So ole Leon contacted the professionals at Mark and Bobbie's Guide Services of Lovely Ouray for ideas about a place to go that would knock socks off...but not put them in a casket—a place where he could maybe take an ice water plunge, preferably in a lake he hasn't seen yet, and not too far of a drive, and less than two level miles from the parking lot. Spreadsheet says....