A Thousand Cuts

I will need to get the photos from Late for this story. We spent 8 days in the Tucson area. Two of them were spent on yard work. Stick your hand up if you remember one of the two main reasons I moved to my condo. The other reason was to get away from a home with four levels to it. Late obviously does not ever do any yard work, so I had to be Boss Manager. I was happy to be able to help, since Late has had me along on five trips there now, and allow me to have the casita to myself.

First, keep in mind that I have always lived where it rains at least once every two weeks. Our ground is never baked hard as cement. We have grass, trees, bushes, flowers - things freeze, but they don't bake. We spent one day removing weeds from her "yard." The yard consists of gravel and weeds. Later, we went to get some nice, toxic RoundUp. I showed Late how to spray while I found something else to do - my wrists won't allow me to do much spraying any more.

The second day of my mangement stint involved tree pruning. Late figured it couldn't be that hard to prune a few trees. I have done much pruning in my homeowning time, and since I am a bit of a perfectionist and these trees had never been touched, I anticipated a lot of work. Another trip to the hardware produced a small hand snip, a lopper, and a small folding saw - plus a new set of very good gloves. Late got the good gloves - I figured she needed them as a novice. I used the old gloves that were not very protective. We had each used one to pull weeds.

Mesquite trees? They are all trees to me - I figured I had a leg up since the trees were still rather small. No ladder required - between us we could reach it all with the loppers. No big deal, right? A few hours of trimming and cutting and cleaning up, and all would be beautiful.

Thorns? I had no idea that mesquite trees have billions of needles on them. I also ate nothing all day. After a few hours, I decided beer was the way to go, and eventually finished off a mixed six-pack of some sort of blueberry flavored beer and some Miller Chill, plus one Stella Artois. It was so hot and I sweated so much that I don't think I really got any effect other than to barely hydrate myself. Still, maybe my judgment was off just a tiny bit. I was constantly being slashed, stabbed, poked, punctured and generally sliced by the tree. I am sure I heard it giggle and snicker a few times.

Early on I told Late that the most important thing is to keep tossing the lopped off pieces away from the tree and to bag the pieces. I mentioned that letting the clean up get behind meant trying to be constantly bending over and bagging the pieces we cut off after we were exhausted and past caring. I offered to do the pruning if she wanted to cut the pieces smaller and bag them - I figured that would be the fastest way to go, but she decided to attempt to acquire a new skill. Slowly. Now and then she hit something she needed me to finish up for her - usually involving the saw - and of course that involved first picking up all the thorny pieces she had absently let fall straight down onto the ground and toss them aside so I could even get to the branch she needed help with. Many cuts, much blood shed.

I had no idea that it was possible to be allergic to mesquite. All my cuts swelled up and were bright red. I mean ALL - I was covered in slices and punctures. My class reunion is coming up in a week - I discarded any plans for short sleeves or even a skirt. I would have to be well covered. Wearing long sleeves and long pants was no help for the mesquite thorns - it went right through. It went through my gloves, too. I had figured it for a 4-hour job. Maybe if we had stuck to my original plan, we could have done that. As it was, we took 8-9 hours. After about 6-7 hours, I realized Late had bagged nothing at all. I stopped my pruning and started bagging, shredding myself even more, although I always tried to be careful.

We ended up with ten 40-gallon bags of clippings from the trees. Late isn't at the house all that much so they don't have trash service. We sure didn't want to leave the stuff around as a fire hazard, and we didn't really know what to do with it. Luckily she lives in a growing area and there were dumpsters around. We had scouted a few during our morning walks for regular small bags of trash.

The rental car company decided we needed a small car with only two doors. Getting those over-stuffed trash bags (no, I am not the one who over-stuffed them - I know they get too heavy)into the backseat was almost impossible. The trunk opening was about the size of a glove box. It took three trips for us to dispose of the bags.

By that time, we were exhasuted. We put our tools away, and I explained about needing some oil to put on the tools to keep them in good working condition. Late just looked at me. How did I know this stuff and why did she care? We put them away dirty, much to my dismay. I was too tired to make an issue of it. Late decided we needed to return to the brewery we had been to before, and I was almost too tired to eat. I ate half of a half of a small pizza, had another beer, and was done.

No need to stick a fork in me, I had been prodded enough.

this is from one of our hikes - I think it's Catalina State Park.

 

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I never did finish my last trip, did I? I wandered off into the bowels of my life and just never found time to concentrate on getting the information down or the pictures posted. I can still do that, another day. I can even add stories and pictures from my next trip, since it is coming up fast.

A month or so ago I was happily collating the ideas of five possible trips by the end of this year. They included Arizona, Reno, New Orleans, Toronto, and Chicago. I wanted to do all of them, but time, money, and dog sitters would not have allowed it. About two weeks later, none of the trips were actually happening and it put me into a bit of a, to use the professional term, funk.

Another week or so later, Late called me and decided she was going to get the time off from work after all and was I still willing to go? Yes, I said. So, with me on my computer and her on the phone, and her husband on his computer, we simultaneously booked flights to Tucson and even managed, with little planning, to sit together most of the trip. Had we booked when I was ready, we would have had non-stop flights to Phoenix for half the fare, but who is complaining? I am sure the airports in Dallas and Chicago will provide their usual entertainment. Last time in Dallas they moved our departing gate five times.

I try not to mourn the lost trips. Others will surely take their places at some point. Chicago was particularly interesting for me, but it was not to be.

Now, as anticipated, I am in full-blown PreTravel Freak Mode. I am not in the dance yet - that will probably happen tomorrow. I was trying a little while ago to pack. I figured if I started early, I could avoid some of the ADD issues that plague me when I travel.

No dice. As usual, I have been dragging all my favorite things out of the closet and threatening to donate everything else. I have at least two dozen shoes on the floor under the suitcase, waiting patiently to see if they will be chosen or not for this particular flight. I have recently been fitted with orthotics with the hopes of avoiding having my Achille's Tendons sliced, and I must chose shoes carefully. Contracted tendons indeed. What about pretty shoes?

Dog sitters are not entirely lined up, but almost. I have needed to accumulate approximately six people to cover for me for a week. I still have some gaps in time I am desperately trying to get covered.

I spent the weekend steaming carpets, cleaning the garage, sorting and filing paperwork - the usual last minute rush before travel that I always set myself up with. Books have been dragged from the library shelves, and I have to pick up more yet today. At least three hardback books will go in my luggage along with my computer, causing me to bite my tongue on many a creative phrase when I have to try to lift the small pilot bag that is carefully holding my prized possessions.

If I have missed contacting any of my friends from j-land who are in the Phoenix-Tucson area, please let me know! I look forward to seeing as many of you as possible, as always. If anyone is sending me email, please put your name in the subject line because I will be emailing by phone again, and all I can see is the subject line. It's a slow, slow process unless I can get my computer to a wi-fi spot. Or, my ass to the library.

My mind is wandering around like a lost child in a dangerous tool store. What about this that needs to be done? What about the other thing that needs to be done before I can even think about doing that? What about getting those three pairs of slacks hemmed first? They aren't going with me, why do I need to hem them first? Well, just because. Do I have enough food for the sitters? Will I remember to cook enough for the dogs? Can I get all the directions to everyone in time, and keys distributed as needed?

I do blame this odd pre-travel behavior on my adult-onset ADD. I never had trouble with packing before - I took my time, got everything together I needed, and packed lightly. I could have, at any time, packed in an hour and forgotten nothing, if necessary.

All I know, is that when the time comes, somehow I will be ready to walk out the door and what needs to be done, will be. I don't have any idea how it works. I think it goes in the category with the old joke about people who love sausage and respect the law. They should never watch either being made. No one should ever watch me get ready to travel.