Friday, January 31
I know what you’re thinking.
Would it kill ya’ to take some new pictures? I know, I know . . . two posts in a row without one new photo. Well, it’s like this. The wind has been whipping around this part of the desert all day long. Dust dervishes thirty feet tall dance and swirl past the window.
This is not a day for taking photos.
I’ve got my dental appointment!
If you’re under the impression that going to Mexico for dental care is like stepping back in time, you’re very wrong. You won’t be fitted for wooden choppers in Los Algodones.
Take this example.
I go online and peruse the very professional-looking websites of several dental clinics. I make my choice, fill out a brief online form, and in a few minutes receive an email confirming my appointment.
About an hour later, Ricardo, the manager of the clinic, rings me up. We talk about the dental work I want done. He gives me detailed directions from the border crossing to the clinic. He speaks as if he has all the time in the world. In other words, his voice doesn’t have that hand-on-the-doorknob-ready-to-leave urgency so familiar to us Norte Americanos.
I mention that I also would like to have an eye exam and purchase glasses. (The dental clinic is also a vision clinic.) “You can get your glasses here. It will take about two hours,” Ricardo says proudly.
Before we end our conversation, Ricardo asks, “Is there anything else I can help you with, Susie?”
(Hispanic people never call me Sue or Susan, always Susie. I don’t know why.)
My appointment is for Tuesday, February 4th, at 10 o’clock.
I’m not telling you the name of the clinic until after I have my appointment. I fear someone will comment about how they suffered there. I don’t want to know. I have my appointment and I’m going through with it. Besides, Ricardo will make sure nobody hurts his Susie . .
Saturday, February 1
I do enjoy satellite radio.
I have my XM radio tuned to the BBC. I’m half-listening when the announcer interviews various people, asking “If you could pick one place, what place would represent freedom to you?”
The first three or four respondents say stuff like “standing next to the statue of Thomas Jefferson.” Ho hum. My attention, however, is grabbed when the announcer asks a man who once was a political prisoner. The man gives this simple answer. . . (not an exact quote).
“Freedom for me is walking into my garden and into the woodland. Beyond that, into a meadow where flowers grow and a bird sings.”
I started thinking about the places that make me feel free.
One of them is not far from here. It is a very ordinary place. Ogilby Road is a two-lane road that the crew and I take from the Sidewinder-American Girl Mine Road dispersed camping area to Interstate 8. The road is paved and fairly smooth. It cuts across flat desert sand dotted with creosote buses and the occasional palo verde or ironwood tree.
To accommodate the spring washes, the road rolls up and down in gentle dips and swells. It’s like riding waves across a vast desert sea. When we go down that road, that very ordinary road, I get this lightweight feeling of my spirit rising, untethered and flying free.
THANKS TO ALL WHO SHOP AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
Here are a few examples of recent purchases:
Gaylord Hauser Spike Seasoning
KEEN Women’s Toyah Fashion Sneaker
Master Flow Tsunami High Volume Portable Air Compressor
Sun Joe 14-Amp Electric Wood Chipper/Shredder
Prime Products Utility Tray
Trimax Premium ‘Solid Hardened Steel’ Trailer Lock