It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

Whenever we return from a longer getaway, my thoughts go to that silly movie, “All of Me,” with Lily Tomlin and Steve Martin. The famous line by the swami guy was, “Back in the bowl, back in the bowl.” Coming home feels like that.

The bowl looks a little dusty and worn, mirroring how I look after the journey. Since today is still temperate here, I’ve got windows and doors open and I’m on a cleaning mission. The garage is getting a makeover! Actually, I’m just going to try and figure out how to get all of the ride-on vehicles three little munchkins have to be easily stored so we could possibly park a third car in there should inclement weather arise this winter. It may not work. They have six modes of transport which are frequently used. We really need a four-car garage.

Ah, yes. Even though I’m in this bowl, the beautiful ones we experienced are still clinging to me. Happy Monday.

Nature has such a humbling influence…and not just when the temperatures are unexpectedly hot and you have only two pair of summer shorts to wear for ten days. (I had to rely on my swim shorts last night for my part of my dining ensemble. They look more like biking shorts and quite frankly, I was perfectly dressed in the “touristy” fashion.)

These giants never fail to impress. This one isn’t even the oldest, just a nice mature fellow. Thankfully, we recalled the proper way to take a landscape photo, educated as we were by our guide in Cambodia. We keep working for that “perfect” shot. As we do, I’ll enjoy another cuppa at my new coffee haven on the patio.

Friday greetings from the “landscape” perspective.

…or a coffee spot. Our little patio place for an early morning respite.

Off to search for a picture of a little lizard before we head out. I suppose they are still waking up. Or, perhaps we shall see another bear on the road today? Little razzle dazzles everywhere.

It actually topped 105 on this journey. Ill-prepared was I for this heat wave – other than the fact that I really don’t care how hot it is. Egypt was 113 degrees and we hydrated enough for that. I’m just tired of water and heat.

Since it was a tad scorching early this morning we had to forgo our bike ride. Perhaps it’s our age taunting us now as we “chose” to forgo the ride. Wisdom kicked in and got us on the road without a desert adventure other than finding filling stations and toilets.

Perhaps this evening we shall enjoy the use of the corkscrew we toted and toast to mid-journey of our mission. (Which, by the way, is to retrieve a motorcycle purchase stored here in California.) Yes. Another motorized vehicle for the herd.

Cheers!

We have had duct tape on lengthy overseas excursions as I wrap that around any bottle of shampoo or can or mousse I happen to be toting on the adventure. We’ve used it. We have my mini-first aid kit, thankfully never used. We have a wine bottle opener, probably used on every excursion? However, we never seem to have a chip clip when we need it.

On this little adventure we did possess one! Alas. We needed two. It was a sacrifice, but I suffered through wearing my hair on my neck in order to secure the tortilla chip bag properly. This little trick came after an Italian event when the cheese and crackers needed a dependable fastener.

If it can keep this mess of hair on my head, the trusty hair clip is a travel gem.

My dream is to go on a dig and pretend to be an archaeologist. I relish the thought of discovering artifacts and I appreciate history that harkens to the era of pyramids and cave paintings.

Thus, this was the highlight of the trip today. The Petroglyphs in Capitol Reef National Park.

Oh, I won’t be finding any ancient artifacts on this trip, (I did find a geode and left it in the park – it was a rare find here) but I shall be going to National Archaeology Day events back in my neighborhood! October 17th. I can’t even believe this exists, and I am going to query every participant there about connecting with global partners.

It’s good to dream.

The past weekend was bittersweet. Outdoor furniture and cushions went in for the winter anticipating the moisture which enveloped us this week. Hopefully the lawn was mown for the last time. The irrigation system was winterized. Weeds were mitigated. And now we await the leafy downpour which will blanket us allowing for Mother Nature’s winds to whip them into the neighbor’s yard.

Fall is my favorite season. I understand that I need four distinct seasons to mark my years, though sometimes those are blurred around here. And I do get tired of summer and winter and spring when they are ready to transform. But not fall.

We’ll still drag the kitchen chairs to the deck when the evening allows. And as I traverse the planet, I’ll send photos of the beauty surrounding us in this majestic world.

Happy Autumn!

Hacking some weeds this weekend reminded me of another episode which occurred during my brief stint as that detassling foreman.

It was the last day of work, definitely a day everyone appreciated. A number of buses were sent to finish the last field and some of the workers (remember age 14 and up?) were walking the field with machetes, relieving the rows of weeds and rogue cornstalks. (Who gives a kid a machete? The same people who let me drive a bus, apparently.)

We’re at the end of the day when we see someone is being taken to the hospital. An apparent slip of the knife caused a foot injury for this young man who had made it through the entire summer without incident. Ah. It was my 14-year old brother!

I really don’t recall how bad it was or if he needed stitches. (We’ll discuss that on our next family phone call.) We continued doing our work and finished the field. I went on my merry way returning kids to their hometowns and washing the bus out for the last time, fully cognizant of the fact that weeding can be a dangerous activity.

Use caution.

It was time to clean the bathroom sinks – again. Without a doubt, I am the messiest face washer on the planet. I splash and create water spots everywhere. ‘Twas a bone of contention early on in the marriage, forcing us to change sides of the counter since most of the pond ended up on my left side. Now, whose fault is this overdosing on cleansing?

The Avon lady.

My mother and her friend scheduled an appointment with this beloved saleswoman of cosmetics for my bestie and I. We were probably in sixth grade? Something like that, because I remember getting clear mascara to wear since I wasn’t in high school yet, and I really wanted mascara! Anyway, this dear woman showed us how to properly wash our faces each morning and night so as not to have dirt clinging to us and miring our lily-white complexions. Apparently I took the gentle splashing to an extreme – and still do.

We could also lay blame on those sinks which are just too small to accommodate a good dousing, and as I recall, they were all too small those many years ago. However, our current sinks are much wider and really do handle the deluge better.

Our third culprit – just little ol’ me. Sigh. Thank you, Avon lady.

…the summer of driving a school bus in the cornfields. “Poor Irv,” is all I can think to say.

Irv was my superior – the guy in charge of all the drivers running detassling crews throughout the county for the NC+ company. Every morning after the corn had matured enough to be stricken of tassles, (sounds awful!) I would head out with my rig around 5 am, travel to two or three small towns, return to the city park with a load of teens ready to earn the best wages around for a kid, and then set out with a map and directions for the field we were going to deprive of some pollinating ability.

In the course of the two months I wrangled teens and stalks, I managed to run over irrigation pipe, back the bus into my neighbor’s car (I think he parked it there on purpose!) and blow out something with the engine in the town farthest from home. I always dreaded calling Irv, and yet he never yelled at me or chastised me. He just shook his head, obviously thinking he wasn’t paid enough for the job.

I never sent the crew into the wrong field in spite of my directional dyslexia, I didn’t miss a single day of work, and I lost weight dragging myself through those muddy, irrigated fields every day for two months. They even asked me to return the following summer? I would have, save my family moved that year and we no longer lived where someone would let me drive a bus.

Every fall when those yellow transports fill the roads I remember that summer and Irv, a model of patience. Be like Irv.