Lifescapes

Wonderland

I've been here for nearly a week, but it will take longer than that to get used to this stunning view from our deck. Those are the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in the background, and ponderosa pines against the breathtakingly blue New Mexico sky. Another foot of snow fell after this photo was taken, but Bill managed to get the 4x out of the garage this morning, and the road has been plowed. So we're not exactly snowbound--just the next best thing to. The dogs are loving it.

The hardest part about relocating my work from Meadow Knoll to Coyote Lodge (our place here in NM) is getting the computer set up and functioning. Bill has this nifty system of saving my data and email folders from my TX computer to an external hard drive, which I brought with me (along with the three dogs). The thing was stubborn, but it finally worked. However, my camera now refuses to talk to this computer (odd--it didn't have this problem last summer when I was here). So I have to load photos onto Bill's computer, resize and save to a floppy, which I carry across the room and load into the floppy drive on my computer. (We can't send because Bill's compute isn't online.) A very high tech solution, wouldn't you say?

The trip was good (I listened to Robert Reich's book, Supercapitalism--very good), and the dogs were terrific travelers, all except Lady, our elderly black Lab, who has to be hoisted into the van. (It's arthritis. She needs help negotiating our stairs here, too.) I drove on Wednesday (eleven hours), settled in on Thursday, shopped on Friday, partied on Saturday, and got down to work on Sunday, catching up on email and small writing projects. I have the Wormwood file up now and am hoping to get seriously focussed on Real Work today. But I'm planning to blog regularly, now that I've figured out how to post photos. So come back often and visit.

Reading note. Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that's tough. I am going to snow anyway."--Maya Angelou

Last rose

Endless fussing with photos this morning, since I changed my photo program (the old one crashed) and had to figure out how to get the new one to talk to Typepad. Not as obvious as you might think--at least, not to this non-geek person.

But here it is, my lovely last rose, on a chilly, blustery day in late November. These antique roses defy all kinds of weather. I think they're even lovelier in gray November, when I need to be surprised by beauty.

DD Robin has been with me this week, but it hasn't quite turned out to be the pleasant, nothing-but-visiting week we envisioned. The Honda Element's heater quit--no huge issue here in Texas (at least until the first real cold snap) but a serious problem in New Mexico, where I'm heading next week. Supposed to. If I can get the heater fixed. I took the van to the dealer on Wednesday (this is a 60-mile round trip, 45 minutes each way). They ordered a part, and I took it back on Thursday. Robin and I hung around the dealership from 11-7 Thursday--but they still couldn't get it fixed. I have to take it back Monday. So far, I've invested 14 hours in this repair project, with more to come. But Robin took her computer and worked on her new website while we waited, and I knitted mitts and read a book, practicing patience. So we made the best of a bad deal. But it was still a bad deal.

Otherwise, we've had a wonderful time. She's definitely her mother's daughter. Last night, we went out to dinner in Marble Falls, came back and fell into our computers for the rest of the evening. Surfaced at ten, had popcorn, and went to bed. Back at our computers first thing this morning. She's going to Reading Circle with me on Monday, then to the airport. Boo-hoo.

The book (Wormwood) is shelved for a couple of weeks. The latest post on the Pecan Springs Journal will tell you where I am in the project. The mitts I'm knitting (for Robin) are of handspun alpaca yarn, from a carded fleece that my friend Jane (thank you, Jane!) brought back from New Zealand earlier. Here's what Jane wrote when she sent the fleece: "The alpaca wool blend comes from a female called Dusk and the owner of Dusk was serving in the store the day I was there. She said Dusk is a young female who had just had her first cria (baby alpaca) and was turning out to be a very good Mum. When the newborn baby was having trouble finding the milk, Dusk lifted up her back leg to help baby figure out where he needed to be." That's the kind of Mum to have, wouldn't you say?

Reading note. The secret of patience is doing something else in the meanwhile.--Anonymous (no doubt a woman, multi-tasking.)