Home not home

This is a view of Deadman Pass in the Blue Mountains of eastern Oregon, off I-84. Traveling east, exiting at the Deadman Pass rest area, one has to squeeze through a teeny underpass (crossing under the freeway) and drive three miles east of the rest area to find this viewpoint, which I think was worth the trouble. Bye-bye Oregon, for now.

Oh, how do I let it go so long (writing here)? Maybe it's because a lot of what's on my mind is grubby details I don't much want to write about here. I dreaded coming home, facing the necessity of tiresome details of putting an end to a dead marriage. Been home a week now, everything pretty calm and dreary. Met with a realtor, put the house on the market for a little less than what I paid for it in 1997 and not nearly enough over what we owe to give us a decent send-off. Oh well, so it goes.

So, I paused a few days in Portland and then headed on home by way of Bryce Canyon National Park, which was overflowing with visitors gabbling in many languages. Camping was not even remotely possible, everything full, so I just drove around stopping at viewpoints and taking some very short walks, soaking up the spooky beauty of mostly-orange eroding rock formations and enjoying the audacity of begging crows.

At a "natural bridge" so close to the viewing area it seems to smack one in the face, a young lady went on about how Bryce Canyon isn't a canyon (it's an eroding plateau) and the natural bridge isn't a bridge (since it doesn't go anywhere, nothing on the other end). So true, like something Congress might authorize spending to build. And like "reality" shows aren't.

After, I barely made it to Kanab, Utah, before I had to stop and sleep. All that gorgeous scenery I saw on the way north was hidden in darkness (and light rain), no fun driving this part sleepy. I'll be back one day, and I'll visit more of the dense cluster of parks and monuments and other varieties of spectacular preserved nature in southern Utah. A pity I won't ever live near them, as I've had my fill of ultraconservative states.

In Arizona, I took Alt-89 instead of regular, treating myself to the lonesome beauty of a high plateau. I watched a black-throated sparrow singing his heart out on a grass stem. I noticed lots of places to pull off the road and sleep, nobody to shine a flashlight in and object. I'll be back.

All this time, all the time I was gone, temperature and weather varied but was always COOL. The descent into Phoenix was depressing. One bright spot was the Rock Springs Cafe. Of course they have good pies, but I had already had pie two days in a row. I focused on non-sweet food. I saw fried chicken on the menu, and with little hope, I asked if dark meat was available. I was agreeably shocked to be informed that I would get the pieces of half a chicken. It was the best fried chicken I've had in years and years and years. It was a small chicken, tasted fresh and the pieces were crispy and cooked to perfection (juicy! even the white meat!). Yum.

I drug my ass home. Grumpy, when he saw me, looked like he was expecting me to assault him (probably because of that email he sent when I was at the writers' conference). Obviously, I did no such thing, chose to ignore the email as a misguided outburst not to be taken seriously. That may not be accurate, but as a working hypothesis it works better than fighting about it. Everything is calm here, not happy but at least tolerable until Oct. 31, when Grumpy is done with school and ready to find some sort of job and go it alone.

You'd think I'd be working hard to get my stuff in order to facilitate the move. Hmmmm. Not yet, at least not much. Little things. First job was to panic over 8 lbs weight gain, only to see it disappear after four days of excessive defecation (big piles of road poop!). Tossed out many old files, found insurance policies, requested beneficiary change forms, saw the tax man who recommended a mediator for divorce while I was signing off on the '09 tax forms, thought about amendments to my trust, etc. Mostly I'm reading mystery novels and a few books of poetry, exercising, getting up early for dogwalks and feeling sleepy all day, huffing at Bally Fitness, etc., and best of all, hours and hours working on my photos from the trip!

Life goes on.