Boring in Borrego

Most of you, my dear readers, will be opening this missile to look for the silly things that happen to us or that we do…or both.  Well, sorry to disappoint you this time.

I’m here to report that not much is happening in the desert.  We haven’t been lost.  We haven’t burned down The Dog House.  No one has passed out.  It’s downright boring.

Life really is a series of events and some are more fun than others.  Some events strike terror in our hearts and we usually try to minimize them.  Did any of you watch the HBO series on Durst? My oh my.  He did not let terror stop him.   I was reading about him in the paper this a.m. and there were a few photos of him.  He always looked like, not quite there.  A cold and distant stare is how I would describe his look in those pictures.  Sure am glad I didn’t get stuck in his head.  Hard to imagine so I don’t even try.

But I digress.

We have no TV here.  Well, that is to say, our satellite such as it is only picks up 6 stations and they are all in espanol.  This would be useful if I was studying the language.  But I’m focusing on french at the moment and there is not one french speaking channel to be seen.   So, it’s Scrabble at night.  I beat the Rayman and he beats me.  At Scrabble that is.  And we are always just a few points away from each other.  It’s great fun except the waiting part…that sometimes gets a bit tedious but who wants to pass and throw in all those tiles for others?  I did that once and got back the Q and Z before the game was over.  I lost that one.

Reading is another activity here.  Just finished I Hate My Neck or whatever the name of the book was by Nora Ephram, or whatever her name was.  Quite funny and entertaining.  Then I switched to Lawrence In Arabia, a book I’ve been reading for about the past year.  It is dry.  It is a bit boring.  But it is extremely timely since it involves how the Middle East was carved up after the war.  At this point, I feel it my duty to complete it so I can be more or less learned about the affairs of the world.  But I’m reading it so slowing, I’ve already forgotten how tall Sir Lawrence was.  A rather short man.  And skinny.  His idea of a diet must have been to grab and camel and head for the desert.  Wearing long white robes.  Which shows how confused those Arabs are.  When we were in Turkey, we hate at a restaurant in Cappadocia and started up a conversation with our waiter.  He maintained that all those orthodox women that paraded around in black from head to tow to cover themselves and their clothes underneath, were cool.  “It keeps them cooler”, he exclaimed.  Well, this cleared things up for me.   Now I understand why they believe 72 virgins will be waiting for them if they say, blow themselves up.  They will believe anything they want whether it is true/factual or not.  Easy, peasy.


My question is, why don’t they wear gloves?


We are surrounded by health nuts here.  They come in the form of bicyclists.  Svelte takes on a new meaning with them around.  Almost daily or at the very least, every other day they take a ride.  Now my idea of a bike ride is what I did the other day.  We mounted our bikes and rode down to the Art Fair at Christmas Circle.  Let me explain.  There is a round-about downtown Borrego Springs.  It is a very large, generous affair that sports a grassy, treed area in the middle of it.  And roads jut off into the desert like spokes in a wheel.  It is a very cool round-about and so we rode to it.  About 9:30 before the heat of day enveloped us in, well, heat.  We looked around the Art Fair and decided there were things we could and should buy.  At that point, we jumped on our bikes and pedaled back up the hill (hardly a hill), retrieved our car and drove back to the Art in the Park and bought our little table and a picture for Claudia.  I like to bring Claudia things when we’re out on the road.  After that, I might have a taken a long nap to recoup.

Here are the lady bikers in Ashland, OR last summer. No pictures yet this trip!!


But I got lost on my own round-about.  My mind.  It is swirling and flipping off on side roads.  That is a condition called digression.

So.  This is not what the bicyclists do here.  They meet at 8:30 and roar up all the mountain roads around here.  They stop and have lunch and then race down the mountain they just climbed.  Average length of a ride is probably 40 miles.  They are animals.  And I’m a slug.  But everytime I get around these guys, I want to be one of those riders.  I live vicariously through them.  I know how to ride a bike, sort of.  It’s just fear that has me in it’s grip.  Fear of flying.  Through the air.  Perhaps over handlebars.  Like Rayman did once in the privacy of his own driveway.  He didn’t make it out of said driveway before flying over his handlebars and I can tell you that it wasn’t pretty.  So there is that.  And then there is this.  How the hell could I get myself up one of those mountains?  I can’t imagine it.  I’d be running off the road looking into the little “rear view mirror” they wear on the road side of their helmets.  So, here again, I am scared.  A scaredy cat.  And the heat.  How do they do it in the heat?  I walk to the dumpster to throw away my garbage and it’s almost too much.  How to ascend a 5% grade in the heat?  My vision of me is going slower, slower until I just plop over…possibly for good.  And then there are the clothes.  OMG.  My midriff would not grace the skin tight clothes these guys pour themselves into.  Actually, I would like to see one of them get dressed.  My imagination takes me to a place where they apply Vaseline before dressing.  Perhaps it takes more pushing and pulling than riding the bike itself.  Don’t know.  Just sayin.  I mentioned the Vaseline to one of them and she admitted to using Vaseline.  Another described herself as a “baby powder girl”.  The guys.  Now that is another story.  Rayman and I learned that the guys use a product called “Bag Balm”.  It is a salve that is made for cow utters.  I’ll leave it to your imagination where this might be used.  I don’t know.  I’m just guessing.

And they eat like birds.  If I rode 40 miles, my rig would not be big enough to hold all the food I would eat upon returning to The Dog House.  One of the riders said to me, “Oh, those medjjool dates!  One of those on a ride would fuel me for 20 miles.”  Hell, it took me three this a.m. to get up the energy to walk to the dumpster and stop by to collect our clothes that were hanging on the clothes line.  Really, people.  This is how they eat.  Or, just perhaps, that should tell me something.  About the way I eat.

Okay.  Change of subject.

We’re going to Julian today to get out of the heat and we are not going to bicycle our way up that mountain.  No sir.  High of 75 today up there.  Perfect.  I’ll be taking my coat.  My blood is undoubtedly thinner now after a week and a day in this heat.  I’ll probably get cold.  I just hope I don’t buy too much.  We need a few groceries.  Of course, you can’t tell with me.  The other day in Borrego, I went on a hunt for a salad spinner (forgot mine), and I ended up with a great pair of Jag capris.  Who knew?

That’s about it and up to the minute  More later.  Something is bound to happen!!



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