Desert talk (yay) and insurance (yuck)

Bridget and I like to walk in a desert wash.

Behind our camp here in the Sonoran Desert near Why, Arizona, there is a wash about as wide as a one-lane road.  Its surface is a deep layer of gritty sand.  This gives good, flexing exercise for the lower legs and ankles, as well as a nice alternative to sharp rocks for Bridget’s pads.

1-P1020286Photo of our home taken while standing in the wash

Unlike every other wash we’ve walked, this one is spooky.

1-P1020290Not much variation in color at this time of year

The bushes on both sides lean in toward us.  Hmm. . . . They look like hiding places.  Tree limbs hover over us.

1-P1020287 Numerous tracks mark the sand. 

Although the tracks appear to be the prints of wildlife, I’m unsettled by the thought that  smugglers might use a wash to conceal themselves as they move across the desert.

1-P1020285See all the tracks?

When thoughts take a negative turn — like “what is going to jump out of those bushes and gobble up Bridget” — it’s time to do something else!  The day these photos were taken was cool and breezy, the kind of day when staying inside, sitting in a sunbeam with Bridget’s warmth beside me, is very appealing.

That’s what I do!

Later, at dusk, I take these pinkish, purplish, dark pics. 

1-P1020301 It’s tempting to ramp them up in editing with more light and “glow.”  I resist.

1-P1020295I don’t know what I think about these photos. 

At first sight they’re too dark and somber.  I almost reject them.  After examining them for a while, I pick up a feeling of timelessness though, when dusk creates an atmosphere of “stop what you’re doing, be still.”

I’ve only experienced that special, end-of-another-day-of-those-allotted-to-you mood in quiet, unpopulated places such as these pictures show.

1-P1020292That’s what I love about photography.  You don’t have to be an expert to capture a mood!

Sunday, January 25

Last night I resolve to spend this day at Organ Pipe National Monument.  I want to drive the Ajo Mountain Road and, of course, take photos.

This morning that plan doesn’t hold much appeal.  So far it’s a grey day, barely into the 60s although the forecast is for a high in the 70s, which we may have by this afternoon when the gusty breezes settle down.  I’m not motivated to make an early start.

I need to pick up more one-gallon jugs when convenient.

In the past few weeks three have sprung leaks.  That leaves me with only five containers which means I’m having to make a trip into town for water sooner than I would otherwise.

Bridget and I made such a “water run” yesterday.  After the water vending machine, I decide to browse the Family Dollar store, maybe pick up a comb for removing cholla and a cheap thermometer.

I walk inside and soon find myself, quite by accident, in the women’s clothing section.

Garish pink and turquoise and orange shouts from the racks, not to mention the sparkles and crap.  I can’t imagine walking around in that stuff, looking like a carnival show on the move.  I mean, everyone is free to wear what they want, but, I tell you, some of the colors women wear are beyond belief.  I’m thinking, “Uh, lady, could ya’ tone it down a little bit?

Oh well, I like the colors in flowers and sunsets.

1-P1020294The aisles in Family Dollar are narrow and the shelves are loaded with stuff. 

The effect is claustrophobic.  I leave without the comb and without the thermometer, pushing through the door to fresh air and my Bridgie-baby waiting in the Perfect Tow Vehicle.

“Okay.  That’s enough civilization for this week,” I say out loud as I turn the ignition key.  “We’re gonna’ break with tradition and not stop at Olsen’s.”  I smile.  “Let’s go home.”

Soon we’re motoring across the flat desert of tan sand and green creosote, grey mountains in the distance, pale blue above.

I finally read my mail that was forwarded here.

This took about three days because I don’t have the fortitude to stick with insurance-ese for more than a few minutes at a time.   Several posts back a reader cautioned me that my insurance may be useless outside of the state where it originates.  (Oh, dear God, my eyes are glazing over.  Give me strength.)

In the mail I find a check for $45!

Remember the shingles shot I obtained at Wal-Mart in Globe, Arizona?  The usual price is around $225.  I only had to pay $45 that day and now, it turns out, I’m reimbursed!  This encourages me to actually read a few pages of the insurance gobbledy-guk.

1-P1020309I discover a statement that says this insurance is good for medical providers and pharmacies in any state across the country.  It’s with United Healthcare through my former employer.  Apparently I switched from Blue Cross-Blue Shield and wiped that transaction totally out of my mind.

(I do that with insurance matters.)

Medicare insurance costs $104.90 a month.  I have the medigap policy with UHC which is $25.38 monthly.  Added to that is a cancer/catastrophic policy that costs $50.04 a month.  That last insurance probably isn’t a good buy.  I’m afraid to drop it.  (I’m allowed some superstitions.)  Altogether I pay $180.32 a month for insurance.

Okay, can we talk about something else PLEASE?

I don’t have a new photo of Bridget for this post.  She’s asleep under the covers right now and I don’t want to bother her.  This photo was taken last summer when we camped at East Lake in Ashley National Forest, northern Utah.

1-DSC05251Such a bright and sunny day! 

There!  We needed a bright photo after all these dark ones!  Looking out the window of the Best Little Trailer, the sky remains overcast and the lighting is dim.   It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.   That’s okay.  Organ Pipe isn’t going anywhere.

Bridget and I are happy together in our little home in the desert.

rvsue

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