TMI, and More Fun With Dick and Jane... Sometimes Without Jane

As my "sabbatical" from real life spirals downward, along with the weather (sigh), let me tell you something: Spring neither comes nor goes softly in the wild west. Rather, it roars like a lion on meth and rarely sleeps. And for all the stock one puts in the symbolic hoax of Spring's New Beginnings, Renewal, Warmth, Hope, and Dreams of Girls in sundresses twirling to music in grassy parks, the reality is quite the opposite. Oh Spring you bitch... nothing but a fickle, frigid, tease disguised as March and April. Confined to my "Box" as it rocks and shudders on a windy perch, I might as well throw up a post because all "flights of fancy" have been grounded except for the ones in my mind...

I know... everyone complains about the weather but nobody does anything about it. I have, and continue, to pay a high price in frustration for these glorious views, rides, and hikes. Oh it may look lovely in the photos, but that's only because "Mariah" is invisible. Bobbie fares worse in Lovely Ouray, so she is on her way here in "hopes" that it will be an improvement. Ha. Board game anyone?

As I was saying, I've less than a week till the end of my sabbatical. I will stare my old friend "reality" in the face, shake his hand, and ask what he's been up to. It's been interesting, sociologically speaking, spending long periods of time apart from Bobbie, all alone, with few diversions beyond my own wretched intellect. That's a lot of time to fill. When one reaches my age, they can only ride so long and hike so far. 

I try not to "go to town" for entertainment/distraction anymore. The one time I did it cost nearly 2000 bucks. Another reason is the inconvenience and hassle of reinstalling Goldie to her hilltop perch.Truly, it required the ingenuity of three Rube Goldbergs and no less than 6 mirrors in order to get her level enough that she doesn't feel like a circus "fun house." Also, it gets tiresome bailing shower water to the drain. Thus I try to stay put. Only after the Black Water indicator flashed "Danger Zone" for 5 days and I ran out of beer did I break camp and head into Moab.

Excepting the beer emergency, I thought I could be content indefinitely on my perch. Who needs an indoor toilet? Well, apparently, I do. It's really hard for me to take a shit outdoors here, what with cold mornings, arthritic knees, and incessant wind trying to blow me into my "business." The good news is that it won't be long till I'm back in diapers, a time when I can thumb my nose at restrooms and avoid the debate with my prostate as to whether or not it will allow me to dribble a leak in both a reasonable and fashionable amount of time. That, my friends, will be real freedom. Go ahead and laugh, young men, but your day will come. 

 Now if you will excuse me, I must clean house in preparation for a rendezvous with Bobbie. Leftover stir-fried rice, with eggs and veggies.
Peace out from Eastern Utah, where they call the wind "Mariah."
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