Where we're heading next:
Home Sweet Home
Quote of the Day
Peanut, "Wow, mom, now we can say we've been to all 50 states! What are we gonna do next?"
The original plan was to stay in Escalante, then drive into Bryce Canyon for a couple of days. The trouble was my gut said not to do it. Scenic Route 12 is a very winding road from Monument Valley and then a lot of miles a-r-o-u-n-d the Grand Canyon to get back to Sedona, AZ. Grandma and I would certainly have had a Thelma & Louise experience, but I could hear the complaints from the kids already: Peanut, "I'm hot." Little Man; "I feel like I'm going to throw up." Doodle, "I don't TARE about dese wed wocks!"
After talking with a nurse friend of mine who works on the Navajo reservation, we changed our plans. First of all she offered to let us stay with her in Point Defiance, AZ and second of all she recommended a canyon I'd never been to: Canyon de Chelly (pronounced Canyon de Shay). My mind was at ease and I knew this was a much better route for us.
Lucky for us, they had a big room at the Navajo-run lodge in Canyon de Chelly. It's important to plan a vacation day from your vacation and this was it for us. We were all ready for bed. When Grandma filled the tub with desert water, Doodle gave her a look like, "There's no way I'm getting in that." Have you had a bath in yellow water? Or red water? It's a mental challenge to consider yourself clean.
We ate breakfast at their cafeteria which was an absolute riot. When I was a kid, Furrs Cafeteria was a fancy outing for us and I always chose red Jello cubes with whipped cream on top. Watching the kids, I remembered how fun it was to have a tray and choose your own food no matter how mix-matched! The kids chose fry bread, strawberries, grapes, Jello, cottage cheese, cereal and rice. I made them each have a few bites of my chicken, too.
A couple of Navajo men told us to get into the canyon right away. The winds were coming! Already they were blowing at 25mph and the 50mph would be here soon. We went to the gift shop first and that was a monumental mistake. This was the best gift shop we'd been in since Santa Fe -- beautiful, interesting items and excellent quality. We love buying straight from the manufacturers, too!
A couple of hours later (okaaay, I bought a lot at the gift shop), we realized we better hurry so we loaded the car and headed to the South Rim Drive. Oh my GOSH! I have NEVER seen wind like this. At the first lookout point my car door almost blew off -- literally. I got it closed then asked Grandma to get a picture of me when I opened it again. (A fleeting regret entered my mind -- why didn't I purchase car insurance from Hertz?) The kids were awed and terrified in this wind. It could have gone either way, but I was so excited that they couldn't help but enjoy it. Grandma had just told them a great story from when she was Doodle's age. She was living in Dutch Harbor, AK and the winds carried her away until a native teenage boy caught her and brought her back to her dad. Let's just say we didn't even allow Doodle out of the car!
Canyon de Chelly appealed to me so much because it's not teeming with tourists, there are great hikes and easy to see ruins and Navajos actually still inhabit the canyon. It felt real and alive and I was loving it! If only Tomcat were here. He would have had his Blackberry out finding the answers to all of our questions. He's a need to know NOW kind of person whereas I'm content to just wonder. We'll just have to come back. Preferably without the wind.
I've been meaning to mention the snot factor as it's been a real issue on this road trip. I seem to be the only one not regularly congested or sneezing. Blowing our noses has been a reminder of the places we've been -- black dirt in the Kleenex there, red dirt in the Kleenex here. You can't underestimate the fun of this traveling with little kids.
We each brought about 3 sets of clothes, except Doodle who feels the need to change clothes several times a day even while traveling. We just cycle through, doing a load or two of laundry every few nights. Last night Grandma and I were up so late doing Durango-Silverton Train laundry that it was a real challenge getting out of bed in the morning to leave Colorado.
I'll add that Spray 'n' Wash may be bad for the environment, but it works magic getting the environment out of our clothes. I'd do a commercial for them if only they'd ask. Hey, I did do a commercial once 15 years ago. Well, an infomercial. It was for cheesecake, which I love. Tomcat and I had Amaretto Cheesecake for our wedding and the baker asked me to do a commercial for them. Crazy, right?
A long time ago a friend of mine took me to a great Navajo restaurant in Bluff, Utah. It was in a dark house in the middle of nowhere but the food was amazing and spicy as hell. I was on a mission to find it and savor whatever they put in front of me once again. Off we went, leaving the lush green mountainous Colorado behind. Hello Utah!
On our way we stopped at Four Corners and were shocked to find that it's a real destination now, with an entry fee and everything. We could hear Navajo spoken by the Native Americans selling their wares and we wandered around with snow cones and fry bread. There aren't a lot of places you can buy a snack and say, "Hey, we're in Arizona" then turn and walk a few hundred feet and say, "Hey, now we're in New Mexico" and so on. It's really fun. Actually you have to work hard to make it fun because it's so bloody hot, but we managed to do it.
Bluff, UT isn't exactly a normal sort of place. (I'm taking a leap that your idea of normal is in cahoots with my idea of normal.) Our car really needed gas and up the road we found a slab of concrete with 2 ancient pumps and a barred up station. Surprisingly, it seemed to be working (a taped sign on the pump read: Pay first. 10 gallons = $41.50 and so on), but there was no one around. Directly next door was a building with a little walk-up window. I went over and immediately the window popped open with a panicked face that said, "She's not there, but if you tell me how much, I'll get you the gas." I said, "Oh, well do you take credit cards?" She looked really nervous and I was very curious what was going on behind the window when she said, "Sure. Just tell me how much and she can do it when she gets back. I don't really do the gas or the money."
I told her I'd take 10 gallons at $41.50 and then I asked her about my Navajo restaurant. She goes, "It ain't here anymore. The Sunbonnet. Closed down." DANG! So I asked if there was any place we could eat and she considered for what seemed a long time and finally replied, "Well, there's the place a mile up the road....or here." Stunned, I said, "What's here?" "Well, it's sort of like a cafe." Sure enough the sign on the front of the building read Dairy Cafe and we all slugged our way through the 90+ heat into the cool room, which really was an okay place with a few okay people inside.
The face through the window turned out to be the nervous, very kind daughter of the owner, the above she who apparently "did the gas and money". Mother was quite a specimen: very tall, very thin, around 70 give or take 10 years (smoking and the desert make it tough to judge), gray thinning hair, piercing blue eyes, 6 coats of stage make-up and a deformed hand which she waved around and around our table without one of my kids making a single comment...yay! We ordered ham & cheese sandwiches, drinks and an order of fries. They all showed up in little wax paper pockets, grilled on rye bread with mayo and mustard. The kids wouldn't touch it.
Doodle had to pee so Mother said, "Well, everyone get up! Line up now and I'll unlock the door. I have to come with you." I was certain she had a shotgun slung around her back so we all did as she said, and she marched us outside, around back with the stray dogs to a toilet room. Very strange indeed, but effective. We all peed even though Doodle was the only one that knew she needed to go.
Some other customers came in wanting to see rugs and we realized this cafe was also a Trading Post type of place. She sells native crafts in yet another side room, securely locked. Fumbling through at least 50 keys hanging from her belt, Mother opened the shop for them, mumbling the entire time to herself. "I'd like it better if you'd actually buy a rug." Grandma and I left there thinking these were what Prairie People looked like that went crazy from the wind.
We quite enjoyed the nutty visit, and Mother did send us off with a wonderful nugget of information: see Goosenecks. "It's only 4 miles out of your way and no one goes there." How could I resist? Now, I say to you, "Go there." Pictures don't do it justice. Driving along through miles of colored sand and scrub brush, you'd never know it's out there. What a gem.
Grandma had never been to Monument Valley before and I'd never actually entered the park as the view from the highway is impressive enough. Nothing can prepare you for the sheer grandeur of these monuments. Not books. Not movies. Not my testimony. This is one of those places. You need to watch other people in awe, seeing the same thing you are. The dirt must be tasted so you can verify that it's actually nothing like paprika. And I suspect this valley needs to be seen in winter as well as spring but I can't speak to that.
This was supposed to be a highlight for Peanut and I. We were going to paint the desert at some point and I was sure it'd be Monument Valley. Unfortunately, sweltering in the oppressive 92 degrees, Grandma and I turned around to a whimpering Peanut and found her wearing her fleece of all things! Her fever was back and we'd already committed to the Loop Drive...miles and miles of bumpy, red dirt roads and magnificent views from every possible angle.
It was a bit of a let down not to squeeze in one delicious New Mexican breakfast before we left Santa Fe, but the kids aren't really into green chilies on their eggs, or eggs in general for that matter. So, we ate a quickie breakfast at the hotel and off we went toward Durango, Colorado. This was supposed to take us about 3.5 hours.
What an incredible route. In fact, I'm going to say this is my all-time favorite drive ever. The desert changes remarkably in Northern New Mexico. Hills, mountains, mammoth rocks and quirky formations, a menagerie of colors top to bottom. Camel Rock showed up out of nowhere and I'd forgotten all about it!
Grandma's favorite thing to say was, "I just don't see how people can live out here." I couldn't agree more, the urbanite that I am. When I saw the sign for the town of White Rock, Peanut and Little Man in unison screamed, "Hey! I've been there!" It took me a minute to realize they were talking about White Rock, BC where we go in the summer sometimes. Ha! I decided to check out the White Rock view to get a reaction from the kids. Doodle was asleep and missed the entire thing, but the other two were actually in awe and fired-up about the enormity of the canyon. It has an incredible view of the Rio Grande Valley. Added enthusiasm came from the vast numbers of hawks flying over head, and these tiny yellow birds dashing about that we could never get a close enough look to identify. After this visit, I'm rethinking my plan to skip the Grand Canyon. Maybe they actually would notice more than the chipmunks? On our way out of town, we noticed some people in a park preparing for some kind of a Kite Festival but we were too early to enjoy it. A vendor, however, was able to sell us 10 Red Vines and life was good.
Next came Bandalier National Monument and this was a very calculated stop. It was a big decision for me to skip Taos, as I adore it, but I wanted the kids to stay interested and pleasant, and I already knew the heat was against me. The ruins in Taos are too sprawling and too touristy and the town is too pretentious for my little darlings. Having chosen correctly, Bandalier was exciting and manageable (if you call carrying Doodle on your back up a cliff manageable), and sure to be a lasting memory. The kids had just made it down the ladder from a once-a-cliff-dwelling now a hole-in-a-cliff, when Little Man announced to everyone within earshot that he needed to poop. This kid has excellent plumbing so we heeded his need. He barely made it the 1/2 mile back, but the important thing is that he did. (Our family has clearly met it's quota for pooping in inappropriate places on this trip.) They had a great kid-friendly gift shop and a good snack bar, too, so we picnicked outside and hit the road.
The sign said 57 miles to Chama and I was already enthralled with this part of the country. The nutty thing is that I'd driven this route before, more than once, and yet I had absolutely no memory of it's substantial uniqueness and beauty.
Then Abiquiu showed up out of nowhere! My neighbor had just told me about this magical place -- Georgia O'Keefe country -- because Peanut had recently taken a big interest in her art. We've been discussing how artists are "inspired" and here we were in Georgia O'Keefe's own backyard. Just look around and her inspirations are obvious. We hopped into the Abiquiu Inn, bought some last-year mini calendars for $1 which thrilled the kids, and we learned where her house was so we could do a drive-by. I told the kids we were the luckiest people in the world but they already knew that apparently. I was in Southwest Heaven.
On the road again and wouldn't you know, in the distance we saw the most stunning layered rock canyon? I kept pulling over to the side of the road for pictures and Grandma announces, "This has to be the longest hour I've ever driven!" Shocking! This was the most amazing hour I'd ever driven in my life! What a magnificent day we were having! Who cares about Colorado at this point?
Well, these glorious cliffs also had a sign: Echo Rock and I just had to turn in. Grandma grunts, "Ah, you gotta be KIDDING me?!" I drag her out of the car. "Look! The path is paved like you like. Come on!" We were just getting onto the path when she spotted a tiny lizard, and the kids became overjoyed. I knew it was going to be a great detour! Peanut arrived at the natural amphitheater first. Suddenly the canyon shouted at us "Myyyyy Preeeeeciousssss!" Grandma and I burst out laughing and now even she was into it. We were alone here. Lucky again! This place was so intimate yet grandiose and otherworldly, that suddenly I began to ache for the familiar to share it with. I wanted Tomcat to be here with us and I wanted my neighbor Green and her kids, my kids' best friends, to be with us. We all began to shout each of their names and soon the canyon was booming with names that we missed from home. Our hearts needed this.
We got to Durango, CO (after one more teeny-tiny detour to see Chimney Rock) just before sunset, 10.5 hours later.
Here's a quickie version of my early time in New Mexico: I was born here. When I was five years old we moved to Texas, but my oldest sister had graduated from High School and decided to stay. Oh, how I missed Sister, who was very much my second mother. So, as strange as it may sound, I flew back to live with her and her new husband in Santa Fe for a year, then went back to Texas for a year, then moved back to live with them in Santa Fe for another couple of years. This city is very special to me as it represents some of the best years of my childhood.
Our first apartment was downtown on E. Alameda, a prime location in today's real estate market. I was dying to show the kids where I used to play in the river. Of course, I was regularly in trouble for playing down there -- flash floods are quick in the desert and a dry river one minute is death the next -- or so I was lectured. Hunting for horny toads was the main goal, along with the excitement of being unseen. Occasionally my brother-in-law would come down and play army guys with me. This really got Sister heated.
The complex still has the same narrow, rickety bridge, which we drove over for my token picture. Hard as I tried to leave, I just couldn't. Too many memories. Ignoring the sign: "NO TRESPASSING! WE MEAN IT! TRY US!", I leaned in the car and whispered, "Hey, you guys want to go down in the river?" There were shouts of delight from the rear and a skeptical look from rule-following Grandma. The small river is walled and I hadn't realized how far I'd had to jump in those days. I helped the kids down and they were fascinated, "Why weren't you allowed to play down here? Well, why did you play down here?" I looked at them with a twinkle and said, "Well, doesn't it look like a great place to play?" Huge affirmative nods. We walked around a bit and then it was time to get out. How in the world did I ever climb the stone wall? Geez. There isn't much in the world I prefer less than lugging my ass vertical. It certainly wasn't graceful but the mission was eventually accomplished.
Now in 2nd grade I walked .7 miles to/from school and hung out at home for a couple of hours before Sister got home. I had my usual route, but sometimes (especially if I could show off for a friend), I'd take a short-cut through the back. The weeds were up to my hips and there was a run-down house with a creepy someone living there. The best part was behind their house -- an old shed loaded with coffins. Seriously! Standing up, lying down, old coffins. And don't think for a second that I wasn't scared out of my wits looking for pieces of corpse.
I've always wanted to check this out for size as an adult, and this was the first return trip to Santa Fe where I actually located the spot. Behind the apartments, on Canyon Road, lies a most restorative and beautiful art complex called Project Tibet. There are so many wind operated yard statues, that you absolutely must sit and reflect. Some force pulls you in and does its best to calm you.
The owner was also a very peaceful, quiet woman, and I unintentionally disrupted her calm with my spooky coffin tale. Apparently in 1980 she transformed several lots and created this sanctuary/gallery. However, she doesn't own the property and said that it's the same owner as when I lived there. At first she claimed there was never any shed and I just stared at her, trying hard not to be the know-it-all that comes so naturally to me. I just sent her a silent mental message, "Listen lady, I'm the kid who lived here, and I know what I saw...and I saw coffins in a shed!" Suddenly, she remembered an old well on the property I was talking about, that couldn't be used anymore, so someone had actually built a shed around it. Voila! My shed. She was sorry but had no idea about coffins or creepy neighbors and her silent mental message back to me was, "Please, lady with children in tow, who is not appropriately dressed for Canyon Road, kindly, go away". We did. I guess I'll just have to store this in the mystery memories section of my mind and be done with it.
Driving around, I found my other house, and Kearny Elementary. By the way, Grandma is very uncomfortable trespassing, but I let the kids play at the playground anyway. Peanut had a great time until we went searching for desert critters and she got nailed by a fire ant. Doodle with all her newly acquired class, left another deposit out on the same playground I'd enjoyed as a 4th and 5th grader.
Behind this 2nd house, were train tracks. They were our alarm clock even on the weekends and naturally, I was forbidden to play on them. Of course, I played there often. One summer when I was 10 or 11 my uncle stayed with us for a stint. He was a questionable character and one day he said if I'd go buy him some cigarettes, I could keep the change for candy. I took off, hopped the back fence, walked about a mile to the Ice House, bought our loot, and on the way back found the most beautiful objet d'art I'd ever seen. It was a snail-like statue made of colored glass in deep indigo and reds. I couldn't wait to show it to Sister. Shortly after, house guest uncle got thrown out along with my huge, artsy bong.
Since someone was currently living in my old house, and there was a Beware of Dog sign, I opted not to trespass. But I wanted to see the forbidden train tracks again! I got the idea to drive around back until I found the arroyo (a dry creek) where I used to play and meet friends who lived literally, on the other side of the tracks. Somehow I found myself leaning in the car window again, "Hey, you two want to go check out the train tracks?" An irritated Grandma looked over at me and goes, "Is this trip for the kids or for you?" I have to say this was my best day in Santa Fe!
Anyway, we climbed over the chain link fence which was weighted down from generations of kids doing the same thing. We had to hold onto another fence that ran parallel to the arroyo while we scooted along, dust, sand and rocks giving way with each step. The kids were appropriately scared and exhillerated. Unfortunately, we couldn't actually get all the way to the tracks because there was an enormous sink hole, boarded over with rotten wood. Little Man was heart-broken. "Why can't we just walk across it? Why can't we put pennies on the train tracks like you used to?" All I could say, after we'd made it safely back was, "Because your mom isn't quite as foolish as she once was."
Our room at El Rey Inn has a funky configuration that works perfectly for us. There's a narrow alcove off the living room (it's like a big walk-in closet without a door) where I sleep. Peanut and Little Man share the pull-out couch. Doodle, who must always be isolated or she'd party into the wee hours, shares the big bed with Grandma in a bedroom. Off of their room is another alcove, but it's outside as a 
sweet little patio! This hacienda style hotel has been here since I was a kid and I love staying here.
Grandma has been reading Josefina, an American Girl series, to Peanut in preparation for this trip. The morning after we arrived in Santa Fe we drove to El Rancho de las Golondrinas for a Josefina tour. It's a fantastic living history museum for kids this age, especially if they're loaded with lore from the books. They carded wool and tried to spin it, took a turn grinding corn (which Josefina spent hours doing every day), and visited the sheep and goats. Did you know that in the 1700's most children died from disease or falling down wells?
Of course we went to The Plaza. Most people go to see/purchase the beautiful pottery and jewelry that the Indians lay out on blankets and sell in front of the Palace of the Governors. My kids wanted to see real live Native Americans. When Little Man saw his first man with black braids down to his waist I thought he was going to pass out. I think Peanut was more shocked when she learned that he had actually been to our neck of the woods on numerous occasions as a truck driver! He took a lot of time explaining his art to her, carving animals with the thinnest lines into black pottery, and he even let her handle his tools which I sincerely appreciated.
In Santa Fe, there is art everywhere you turn. We kept passing this statue of a Native American catching an eagle and the kids' questions were exhausting me. I should be flattered that they think I know everything, right? I finally told them that we'd go into the Mountain Trails Gallery and find out the story behind this statue if they promised to keep their hands on their chests the entire time. I'm telling you, this was NOT a place for even well-behaved kids. Well, this turned out to be an incredible 3 minute experience as the artist was actually carving right there in the gallery! Of course they wanted to touch it (panic! panic!) and a woman employee was swift as she handed them each a tiny ball of clay. I loved her immediately.
She also told us the story of the sculpture: It is seen as an act of bravery to get an eagle's feather. The Native American is reaching up, struggling with the powerful eagle's talons, trying to get a feather so his tribe would view him as very courageous. Naturally, Peanut was very concerned about harming the eagle and the lady assured her it was like someone pulling a hair out of your head. No one wants someone to do it, but you can get over it pretty quickly.
Our final stop was the Loretto Chapel. It's funny what captures the interest of kids. This beautiful church was built without a single nail -- even the spiral staircase. I thought it would be a quick visit mostly lost on them, but we're not Catholic, so they were extremely curious about each and every detail. Doodle refuses to accept that Baby Jesus is anything but a baby, and why can't she climb that beautiful staircase? What is up there? Little Man just doesn't understand why Jesus didn't break the cross so they couldn't hang him. And were his parents at that special dinner with him? Well, what did he and his friends talk about at that dinner? Would Mary let Jesus' friends come over to his house sometimes? And Peanut wanted to know what the holy water felt like (I wouldn't let her dip) and why there were candles for sale. I told her usually you can pay to light a candle for someone you know who's struggling or has died. (These were off limits to us for some reason.) So, she wanted to know how many candles a person could light, how much it would cost exactly and who she would pray for if she could light one or several? Who did she know that was struggling or that was dead that she could say a prayer for? And who would I light a candle for if I could? On and on and on.
We finally got out of there and I bought a spicy-licious Frito Pie from the back of the Five and Dime, which was a Woolworth's when I was a kid.
Grandma said someone told her that traveling with kids is like living in the bathroom day after day. Let's just say I've learned a lot on this trip.
For one thing, it's all about Doodle, and Grandma is her personal pet/best friend. Just ask her. For another thing, it's all about Peanut and since her needs cannot be fully met -- namely, her necessary alone time -- she can get a bit pissy. She's also reading The Hobbit and has gotten into the habit of calling everyone "my precious" which is making us nuts. And finally, it's all about Little Man. He needs a job to do constantly or he is climbing the walls. He's fantastic when we're out and about, but oh, how I miss his buds from home during Doodle's nap time. He wakes every morning full throttle ahead, never needs a break and becomes Doodle's main source of entertainment at bedtime, which I might add is the wrong time.
Also, any version of privacy is a thing of the past. And they need food constantly. I was already aware of this, but it's far more noticeable when you don't have your refrigerator or pantry in the next room. We're going through apples, bananas, jicama sticks, carrots and water like nobody's business. I also have a lollipop stash for those long stretches of road.
Even with these annoyances, we are having a great time. I never expected the kids to be so proud of this undertaking and to personally own it. They feel very much like this is their trip to enjoy. And it's been such a wonderful conversation starter for them. No matter where someone is from, they'll say, "We're going there this year!" and the next thing you know, the stranger turned friend has our blog address!
The number one question people ask is if I'm Homeschooling them. I find this so strange because I think they're learning so much more on this trip than they could ever learn from a book. It's not like they're taking Advanced Physics! We're certainly not practicing letters on this trip although Doodle did announce today that she wants to learn to write her own name. Instead, Peanut is keeping a journal and Little Man is collecting things. We've spent a lot of time talking about all kinds of things, but mostly the characteristics of the desert and the Native American experience in this country. And how to cope with stickers and fire ant bites.
How come no one told me what happens to a body when it sits in a car day after day and then goes to bed instead of using the exercise room in the hotel? I guess you all figured that was irrelevant and I suppose it's true.
But ouch! I looked at a picture today and barely recognized myself. We've only been on the road a week or so, right? The other morning I woke up with a kink in my neck. Grandma brought me some Advil and I dropped one. We looked and looked and finally she goes, "Pick up your boob" and there it was! I'm starting to get lumpy all over though. And parts of me that should be neatly tucked are making surprise appearances when I lift my arms or bend over. I know there are new terms for fat rolls, but I'm really out of touch. I recall hearing something about a muffin top. If that's the case, I'm approaching bakery (please, please let it be the Cloud Cliff Bakery in Santa Fe) and I've got to get this under control soon or I'm going to be as big as the 50 states when this is all over.
But why start doing something about it in Santa Fe? I adore this cuisine more than any other in the world. I love to answer "Christmas" when I'm asked "red or green", meaning the type of chili I'd like on my enchiladas or my eggs. I get a little of both! And I love to eat an eclectic lunch like the one we had today at The Blue Heron Restaurant. This had to be the nicest place my kids have ever eaten and they were little champs. (Granted we got there at 11:30am when the place was empty along with their stomachs.) Grandma and Little Man split a shi-shi cheeseburger with cactus fries, and Doodle and I split grilled shrimp with yucca and capers. She also took over Grandma's portion of the very decadent crab and corn flan! Peanut ate for the first time in 3 days -- the chicken from my Caesar Salad, which wasn't a salad at all, but 3 pieces of the most delicious grilled lettuce I've ever tasted.
Having said all that, my absolute favorite thing to eat in Santa Fe are the enormous sopapaillas. For those of you who aren't familiar with these, they are an Indian fry bread. You can get them in Texas but they're weak comparatively. You've got to have them (after a proper chili relleno, of course) at Tomasita's Restaurant where they are absolutely enormous. Take off a corner, grab your knife and the little ramekin filled with honey-butter, and get to it. As you munch away, you can always add more honey!
On our way out of town, I drove the kids to see my childhood home. It's pretty much a dump. I'm not sure how much nicer it was when we lived there; my mom and sisters struggled pretty hard when we moved there right after the divorce. This didn't keep me from walking around the entire house (which was vacant and for rent), peeking in every window, going down my checklist of memories prior to age 5 when we moved to Texas.
Our best neighbors, Mr. & Mrs. Garcia, are still living there according to the garden stone with Garcia carved on it. (I guess there actually are people who stay put in a house and grow roots.) Anyway, I loved this man as a child and was very aware of how clean and tidy their house was. The living room was a bit dark and cool and they had a squishy couch and a piano with pictures of their family up on the wall. This impressed me then and I was dying to see if they remembered their darling 3 year old neighbor from so long ago. No one was home, so I left a note on the porch...
After a visit to Walgreens for Ava's prescription, we headed to Santa Fe. What a treat to pull into Corona, NM for gas and a snack. I saw CAFE painted on the side of a wall and told the kids, "Check this place out! It looks like the Wild West. I'm certain cowboys used to come here. If these people left it would look exactly like a ghost town!" I should have known this would open an entirely new bottle of questions, "Do ghosts live here? Well, is this a real ghost town? Are there real cowboys here? Do ghosts eat? Do cowboys?"
This is actually making me think of something back at the Tucson Dude Ranch. We walked into dinner and a very nice woman from Illinois was sitting there. She invited us to her table and I said, "Are you sure? You do realize we come loud and loaded with questions, right?" She was so wonderful with the kids, engaging them all in their various conversations (at nearly the same time) and answering all the personal questions they asked her. For example, here's what I could hear of Doodle's conversation as she took the floor:
"What color are you eyes?" brown
"I like pink." what else do you like?
"Oh, well I'm also interested in Belle and Jasmine." oh princesses!
"What does your house look like?" very patient detailed description
"Why are you so sad that your dog died?" well, she was my companion
"Why was she your companion?" well...
And when she told us about Shelby, the dear dog she'd just put down, Peanut and Little Man couldn't wait to tell her all about our pets. Sure we have the lovey Samson cat and the feisty Delilah cat, but they were particularly interested in telling her about Atlas, my beloved cat of so many years and how he met his end. "Well, my mom named him Atlas because he was so huge, but then she took us to school, and when she got home she remembered something in the house she'd forgotten, and she ran in to get it, and when she came out Atlas had run under the car and she ran over him! But we burned him and then we buried him under a tree we planted for him. It makes her sad, too." Breath. Little Man added that we put a rock there that said Atlas and Peanut corrected him by saying, "No it's a big stone that says In Loving Memory, Atlas." Would you believe this gracious woman actually chose to sit with us for breakfast!
So where was I? Corona, NM. We walked into El Corral Cafe, which was virtually empty save the pictures of Indian Chiefs all around (can you imagine the questions from the kids???). The owner, Kathia Beltran, got us situated and I quickly realized she was una mexicana. Jumping at the chance to practice my Spanish, she was a little stunned and pleased all at the same time, assuming we were up from El Paso. I told her our story and very slowly her family started to emerge from the back -- her daughter, her mother Nubia, her uncle, her friend with her son. It took about 3 minutes and I knew I'd love to be this woman's friend. She told every person who walked in what we were doing and that we speak espanol. I felt like a proud student once again!
In fact, if I haven't mentioned my love for the Spanish language and culture, especially Mexican, let me do so now. I love it. All of it. I love it so much I want to live in Mexico someday and make tortillas and sit around with other women complaining and loving nos maridos.
She served us the daily special (Rick Steeves always says order the daily special), chimichunga with green chile sauce, rice and salad. Apparently Cowboy Punch is only available in Arizona (iced-tea with lemonade) so the kids got a real caffeine treat and I let them drink pure iced-tea. It only now occurs to me that's why they didn't fall asleep in the car! If you ever find yourself traveling out here, stop at this wonderful cafe in Corona, NM and meet the wonderful Familia Beltran who run it.
About 2 seconds after we left this cafe, a warning light came on in our car -- low air pressure in the tires. I went back to the gas station only to find they didn't have air so I flagged a guy in a big pick-up and he directed me to the other side of town (2 or 3 blocks away) where there was a mechanic. Perfect! This kind young man with oiled hands checked each tire and filled them up properly. We agreed on 5 bucks for the job. We were discussing the rain and how happy everyone but us was to see it arrive. He informed me that even if it wasn't raining, it'd be this cold. We were in the high desert now with a 6,685 elevation, supposedly the highest train crossing...which is why this isty-bitsy town is called Corona, the crown of New Mexico.
Yesterday was supposed to be our longest stretch of road on this drive across the states, with the Kansas/Nebraska crossing a close second. We navigated almost 600 miles across Southern Arizona, dipping into Texas and then back up into New Mexico, place of my birth.
A note about Texas: We go to Houston and San Antonio once or twice a year to visit family. The kids hunt for frogs in the early evening and we fill our bellies with as much Tex-Mex as we can. So, we decided to just cross the border into Bush Country for a picture under the Welcome to Texas sign and call it good.
Peanut and I discussed the meaning of nostalgia as we drove across the different looking desert scenes. She was still feeling sick and limp in the backseat, and I told her about a time, at her exact age, when I was sitting in the backseat on this same stretch of road, with heat stroke. More than the memory of being sick, I remember the look on my sister's face and the panic in her voice as they searched for an Ice House. They finally found one but it only had big blocks of ice, so they chipped pieces off with a finger nail file and hand fed me.
We also passed the place between Lordsburg and Deming where, at Little Man's exact age, my other sister and I were in a terrible car crash with our aunt and cousins. My aunt lost the use of her legs, one of my cousins lost her life and I ended up in a cactus, the needles scarring my left side into adulthood. Funny thing how your body remembers such life tragedies, and I felt the location in my gut before we even realized we were there.
On a brighter note, I also had a memory rush back of driving to the Sonic at the edge of town and heading to White Sands with my older sister and all her high school friends. This has to be one of the coolest places on Earth. I never tire of coming here and believe me, I've been here a lot. It's out in the middle of nowhere, the bottom of an ocean without the water or fish. Pure white sand for miles in the middle of the brown desert. I knew it would be a highlight for the kids and it was. They couldn't accept that it wasn't snow until they actually stepped into its fluff. Climbing and running and rolling, filling their hair with the soft sand. Magic.
We had been feeding Doodle digestive biscuits for a couple of days, but I never expected to hear Grandma yelling at me across the dunes, "Curly! Curly Top! You better come check this out!!" Doodle, I'm pleased to announce left her deposit at the bottom of one of the dunes.
White Sands is about 20 minutes outside Alamogordo, NM. I can't imagine it's a priority stop on most people's map, but Doodle couldn't wait to see the hospital I was born in. Why? Because it's pink, I promised her. Unfortunately, we learned they tore it down years ago and built a new one, by the same name, up on the mountain. Doodle lost interest, but when Peanut's fever went up instead of down and she couldn't swallow even a drink, I took her to E.R. in the new dig. Grandma was sure she had Strep, but alas it was just a wicked case of tonsilltis. We were there a couple of hours and I watched her drift in and out of a fever sleep, "I love horses! I said I loooooove horses!" We decided to cancel Carlsbad Caverns today, hang out here in this nothing-to-do place and force her to rest. She's mad as hell.
New Mexico Dirt Sample.White Sands, New Mexico.
Peanut's teacher gave her an assignment to keep a journal on our trip. She's 7.5 and would be in 2nd grade, but the kids go to a Montessori School where grade level is pretty irrelevant. Anyway, she's been pretty faithful, writing snippets nearly every day and drawing a picture to go with it. I told her that she could "blog" whenever she wanted and today she handed me her journal!
