It turned out to be a pleasant day. A few days earlier we had made no plans, but the few hours spent with family was quite nice.
We drove Highways 82 and 83, two of southern Arizona's most scenic highways. The area north of Sonoita is open for discovery. We really haven't done much exploring there.
We arrived shortly after 10am, as a local Tri-Athelon was finishing up near the lake. We drove the kayaks to the lake and paddled the lake's perimeter.
My 73-year-old mother is in great shape. You wouldn't even come close to guessing her age when you see her. She is still fit and has muscular definition. In a country where fat and fabulous seems to be the norm (a euphemism to conceal a lack of self-confidence), she is looking great. There won't be any Blue Hair or Nursing Homes for her in the future!
The scary part is that I'm looking more and more like her: same physic, baseball cap and sunglasses, muscular legs and that ever-frown. Even my daughter says she is proud of my athletic abilities, something she has herself if she only applied herself.
Watching my mother paddle ahead of me with ease amazed me. My inflatable kayak, a purple Sevlor (which Kevin described with "This thing sucks!") could not get me forward in the small breeze. The man-made lake and its aerators pushed me along and I circled at least twice in frustration. The water was filthy and contained several dead and floating catfish in various phases of smelly decomposition.
Kevin's back hurt and turned around before the half-way mark. I made it to the other end but didn't go on second round, and I declined an attempt in my mother's better kayak. Instead, we went back to her place where we sat ourside in her water garden and talked about our family topics: the upcoming election, the fraud of registereing as an Independent in Arizona (because the state wants you to declare what party's ballot you want for November), guns, the garden they recently completed, the upcoming Lake Powell trip in September, and wildlife.
"I miss the thrashers" said Bill. "We used to have them all the time in SV. One even flew into our house once as if he owned it."
I haven't seen the thrashers since after the storm. I hope the surviving thrasher didn't move elsewhere to find a new mate? The dail calls of the birds were always a delight, and when it comes to talented desert birds, those birds' calls top the range of song.
My mother's garden is more of a combo-water garden/shrubbery. Very few flowers grew. Many citrus and small trees were in large pots placed around the garden, still small and young and not quite effective enough at providing shade. Her garden is clearly different than mine, mine which is more native and filled with mostly drought-tolerant perennials. Most of my shrubs are planted in the soil; the few that are potted are still waiting for their turn at full-time soil.
Billl and Kevin talked about their handguns. Kevin handled some of Bill's pricier weapons. It's nice to see men talk about useful stuff like weapons and their maximum range, rather than put up with men who talk about sports all the time. Despite my own indifference to weapons, at least I see value in owning a weapon and knowing how to properly use it. I am not, however, a gun fanatic.
While the boys were talking guns, Mom and I talked about travel. "Where would you like to travel?" she asked, and almost immediately I replied "Aregentinia...Chile, those coastal countries in South America." I've had the impression that most South American countries are more like a tropical Europe, with the laid-back culture, sense of family, and the race to be the richest person is not the primary goal like it is in this country. She seemed surprised by my answer.
"But there's also Italy and the rest of Europe" I added. I haven't pursued travel much lately because Kevin doesn't like to travel; he prefers to stay close to home and his beer.
The conversation diverted inside to Iraq, since it was Memorial Day and the local programs featured young servicemembers who gave their lives for their country. (Although experience has shown that lives are lost not for their country, but for their mission. Servicemembers are told what to do, no arguments are allowed, and the one solace is that if they are killed, they will be hailed as heroes. In the end, it's the surviging loved ones who suffer the most, missing their dead loved one for the rest of their lives)
Still, it's quite humbing to hear about the lives of these young warriors who risked their lives without second thoughts. We owe them a life-time of gratitude.
It was a pleasant day outside, with a gentle breeze and the sun shining above. We left at 6pm and made it back to town by 7:30pm, stopping only at Hasting's to read up on some new books and to check out the latest DVDs for rent. I picked out Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, a movie I never saw in 1989 when it was first released because my then-husband didn't like spending money on babysitters to go out to see movies.
I've got a lot of movies to catch up with.
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