A Pig in a Park

February 27, 2017.

Yeh, so, Great Danes were originally bred in Germany to hunt boar (and deer).  However, it appears that Zuma is lacking a few genes  in that department.  We met this porcine pal at the Park yesterday morning and Zuma only wanted to meet Mr. Pig and hang out with him and share a lovely sunny Sunday morning together and  vice versa. You've heard of a pig in a poke? well, this was a pig in a park!  Please pardon me for being a hopeless romantic, but doesn't this just show we can ALL get along in this world, even during these troubled times?

They met, sniffed noses and were immediate buddies.  Sheesh, if you think traveling with a Great Dane is not a crowd magnet, try walking a pig in a park.  The combination quickly attracted a crowd and many selfies were taken.  These two didn't care about the pig paparazzi, they were totally into each other.  Mr. Pig is one cool and well-socialized hog, a fine ambassador for all porcines. After meeting him, a woman sadly exclaimed, "I don't think I'll ever eat bacon again".  This made me smile.  It also made me toss out the bacon in the fridge.

Mr. Pig is "just a pig" his owners told me; he's not a pampered pot-bellied pet, he's a real PIG.  Housetrained and leash-trained, he is adored by his owners and regularly exercised; he gobbles up all the attention offered to him.  No ego, just a cool animal living a good life, doing his pig thing.  In a High Life kinda style. He really enjoyed his morning romp yesterday and we hope we'll meet him and his fun family again.

#piginapark,#pigmeetsgreatdane,#Mr.Pig,#travelingwithagreatdane,#howcanIevereatporkagain?

Homeless

February 26, 2017.

Everywhere we go, we see homeless people.  I guess it's because we're mainly in the South and it's warmer here.  One evening, walking downtown, we saw two 50-ish aged men haaappily bundling up with their flimsy sleeping bags in a downtown shop's alcove. Wearing woollen hats and gloves, they were jiggly and jovial, chatting with passers-by merrily as they hunkered down on a cold tile entrance way, utilizing their backpacks as pillows.  Yah. It was cold, ya'll.  #Tilemattress,#January,#freezingmyassoff.

Throughout our travels on this trip, we've seen temporary encampments, tents and tarps swinging from makeshift roadside camps alongside highway intersections; I saw a woman sleeping on the curb on a cold January night, people nestled into blankets on park benches, a woman slumped over a coffee in a Starbucks having a long, long, deep nap.

Nobody seems to bother with these people, these travelers following a trail that never ends.  But they don't worry about the trail ending.  Their needs are immediate:  Coffee (or other preferred stimulants), tobacco (or other preferred stimulants/calmer-downers), food, shelter.  They don't look far ahead.  They wait calmly for each day to deliver each day to them.

They are the ghosts of society.  
Don't look.Don't tell.Didn't happen.  
Oftentimes, the Police drive by and don't seem pretend not to notice.  This is the pattern in all the cities we have visited.    
I regulary talk with the homeless, they are a blend of folks who are all struggling in one way or another, but they are unique people. They are from all walks of life, they have university degrees, they are artists, they have a lot to offer to our world but they're so pre-judged because of their nomadic lifestyle that they've just basically given up on the entrapments of society. 

The main thing I've gleaned from the Homeless (who are always pleased to share a conversation and meet Zuma) is that yes, there are shelters and hostels nearby but many will not stay at these places, because 1) "They won't take my dog" and 2) "I don't stay in shelters; it's the people there, too many thieves".  There are options but they're opting out.  I get that.  It's a dog eat dog world, isn't it? Even though it's 60-70 F here in the daytime, it's still pretty darned cold here at night. Especially if your blanket has no more substance than a newspaper.

They are the wounded, the damaged, these travelers, the outcasts of our society.  Whether family strife, unemployment, life disaster or mental illness is the reason these wanderers wander, it's impossible to pass them by and not acknowledge their plight, buy them a coffee or a hot chocolate.  

My wise friend C. said to me (words to this effect):  "Perhaps they are the wise ones, they have no bills or commitments, they are free to come and go as they please".  

Tonight is the coldest night of February here.  No snow, warm sunny days, daffodils bursting forth, Magnolias about to pop their flowers.  How.Ever. The temps plummeted here tonight.  And my electric space heater in Hula Girl officially kakked.  It's 40F in here, FFFF.  I have two other electric heaters in storage and a propane furnace here in Hula Girl so I'm fine.  Push a few buttons, I'm good to go.

Thankfully, Zuma and I have each other to keep our backs warm. No wonder the Homeless people won't sacrifice a night staying in a Shelter without their dog.  The gift of touch.  They need each other for touch and for warmth ....  not just when it's a frigid winter night, they need each other every night.  


#homelesspeople,#homelesspeopleandtheirdogs,
#travelingwithagreatdane








  

Meanwhile, Back in Maine ....

February 21, 2017.

Missi helped Zuma and I move back to the RV Park a few days ago.  She (Zuma!) was very excited to get her wiggle on and reconnect with our friends here, then we had a long walk and she crashed on her puffy air bed in the sunshine.  It's becoming Spring here.  The air smells like May.  Daffodils and trees are already blooming and it's 60 - 70 F in the daytime.

Meanwhile, back in Maine:

Doug sent me these pix:

a view of our driveway from up beside the house.

The Northeast was slammed by three snowstorms in a row last week, leaving almost 3' of fluffy snow in total!  

Here's the barn as the storm was starting:

Our dooryard:

I had thought fleetingly about returning to Maine early, then I saw the  upcoming weather forecast for New England.  I'm pretty sure that, in choosing to stay, I made the right decision for both of us.

At The Motel.

February 21, 2017.

I'm not going to name the Motel chain because it's not their fault that there were some shady characters staying there while Zuma and I spent a week.  I most definitely can say that it was a "life experience".  

On the good side, the motel was very clean and the staff was lovely. Accomodating, polite and friendly, Zuma trained them quickly and always scored a cookie when we went near the office.  Also, we met some super people there and will remain in contact with them. Something good comes of everything.

On the not-so-good side, it's not the motel's fault that during my week here:
Someone tried my door handle three nights in a row (he was trying every door on our floor).  Reported to office.
One evening, I went to my car to fetch something and hopped in the driver's seat.  Suddenly, two guys walked up and, right in front of my car, pulled off a drug deal!  I just sat there, bug-eyed.
Then there was the attempted car jacking in the back parking lot; I met the near-victims outside and they told me they stopped him and he was immediately evicted from the motel.
Three police cars stopped by one night; I was a bit taken aback when I met a herd of Policemen in the stairway.  They resolved the issue swiftly and quietly.  (I would have missed all this action if I didn't have to take Zuma out for walks).  I found it interesting that she didn't react to the Officers.
Oh, and I did see a housekeeper throwing up in one of the flowerbeds.  That may have been the 'flu, poor girl.

Despite having to up my caution levels:  watch all around you all the time, especially at night), take wide corners around building, always latch your door, I felt safe 'cuz I have my big ole dawg with me.  Like most canines, Zuma watches people and knows how to read them.  She's my personal "People Barometer"!  I know she would use her size and booming bark if she felt the need to step up her Security position.

On The Fourth Day ....

February, 2017.
                            

As we were driving back from New Mexico, we rationalized that we should sell the RV and look for a small house here, a place we will be able to use for a few months a year.  

We made it to Asheville on Day Four; we stayed in Tennessee and only had a two hour drive that morning.   We checked in to the only motel that accepts dogs and still had availability.  Being Superbowl weekend, our options were limited and we could only find a cheap chain motel.  Zuma walked into the small room and backed up as if to say, "You're kidding, right?". Hotel.Snob.Dog.  

We're magnetized to Asheville.  Some places have the power to get a hold on you.  We met a woman here a few months ago and had a long chat with her (because of Zuma).  She's lived here all her life and seen hoards of people come and go.  "Asheville has a way", she said, "it either takes you in or it spits you back out".  

Asheville has definitely taken us in.  We've met so many good people here, people we'll remain friends with for a lifetime. This is Missi and her son Van.

Zuma and I were really happy to spend a sunny spring day with Zach and Alis on Saturday and then with Jansen and Alis on Friday.  As with all good friends, the five of us picked up 

right where we left off.

Once we got settled, we dug in and emptied Hula Girl, rented a storage unit, filled it up with our stuff, cleaned the RV interior and put the For Sale signs on her.  Even though the motel was not up to Zuma's standards, I decided to stay on for a week and get things sorted out, write and visit with friends, then move back into the camper with minimal supplies (since it is now up for sale). Besides, "The Motel is a chapter in itself", I babbled to Doug, "it'll be an adventure".  Oh, it was an adventure alright.

Eating Our Way Across Half The Country.

February 5, 2017.

                                  
                        
We basically ate our way across half the country on our road trip from New Mexico to North Carolina.  At each meal we'd discuss our next destination and where we'd eat lunch or dinner.  These are our fave stops from NM to NC:

Emma was with us when we had lunch at The Range on Route 66 in Bonarillo, NM.  'Cuz ya'll gotta experience a Route 66 Diner. On our way out, I spied the pastry case. (Screeching sound of brakes). I have a problem walking past these oh-too-tempting glass cases filled with scrumptious, delicately prepared offerings.  It's the Brit in me.

                          

And so, I reasoned, it's always wise to pack a snack between meals, and I chose a large, steamy, iced, fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon bun for us to share later on.  We split it three gooey ways before we left the parking lot. No.Willpower.Whatsoever.  

Lucille's, Weatherford, OK, a Route 66 Diner.  Cool Mother Road decor and one of best hamburgers I've ever eaten with a fun server on the side.

                                            

Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken, Memphis, Tennessee.  Oh, were we happy to be back in Memphis and stop for lunch here. Yup, best fried chicken ever.  Cooked when you order, very little coating, not greasy, just mind-blowingly fresh and good.  The never-ending lineup tells the story.

                                

Zuma smells chicken. 

                                             

We met this beautiful lady while we lined up outside.  She and Zuma became fast friends.  Her name is Kat Riggins, she's a blues singer and was traveling with her agents.  We stalked her looked her up on youtube and she's really talented.

                                              

                                              

Food and Dogs and People.  You can't go wrong.  

#Gus'sworldfamousfriedchicken, #bestfriedchickenmemphis, #memphistn, #therangerestaurant, bonarillonm, #lucillesdinerroute66, #Katriggins, #travelingwithgreatdanedog, #route66

Don't Invite Me

February 3, 2017.

                    

I moved my feet off the dash for this shot of Route 66.  
You're welcome.
After Albuquerque, we began our (long, fast) journey back to NC.  
Doug had to return to Maine immediately so we made a plan for me to stay in Asheville.  

Okay, So!  If you're ever going on a really long trip on a really flat landscape on a really straight road, don't invite me.

We left Albuquerque on February 1st and for three very long days we drove out of New Mexico, across The Texas Panhandle (stopped for gas), Oklahoma (where we experienced howling winds, no wonder it was named The Dust Bowl) and then Arkansas with very few stops.  It may sound romantic but it's not.  It's a really long trip on a really flat landscape on a really straight road and if there had been a bridge I would have jumped off it.  There was one bridge but Doug wouldn't stop.  I'm not complaining.  It's just .... yeh.

I did catch a shot of this but I don't know what it was:

I get so bored.  For three days we drove 8, 7 and another 7 hours, with stops to walk Zuma and quick cups of tea and coffee. 
By the time we tumbled into a hotel room at night we were too exhausted to form a sentence.  We just kinda slurred and mumbled and somehow formed a take-out order.  

So, anyway, I know I'm a terrible passenger after my patience-ometer hits a certain number.  I admit it.  I own it.  But I do attempt to better the journey by actually doing something constructive other than gawking out of the window in a trance.  
Or falling asleep in some God-awful embarrassing twisted pose with my tongue lolling out.  Or curling my toes in my shoes to stop the car when Doug gets too close behind someone.  (So far, it's really working)!  

So I busy myself by making a list of 'must-do' jobs:

Search Trip Advisor for next place to eat (priority).
Find a hotel at next destination (other priority). 
Solve the problems of the universe.
Complete multiple word-search books.
Make Lists.
Refrain from repeating in my head "Dear God, Please let this be over".  

No wonder my oh-so-proper mother always referred to me as a "Fidget arse" when I was a kid in the back seat on a long road trip with nothing to look at.  They call it ADD now.  I like Fidget arse much better.

A Silent, Sacred Place.

January 31, 2017.

           

There is a silent, sacred place in the desert 

near the city of Albuquerque, NM.

The short version of the story:  200,000 years ago volcanos spewed basaltic lava from a 5 mile long crack in the crust of the earth. Time and erosion exposed tons of basalt boulders.

The Native Indian people left their mark on the stones, carving petroglyphs into the hard black rock to reveal the lighter color underneath, leaving behind depictions of the people and their life, the desert, its animals and birds, as well as geometric designs.

There are over 24,000 images here at The Petroglyph National Monument.  Managed by the National Park Service, it is protected and revered as a sacred site; the boulders are just out of reach from curious hands and the penalties for defacing any part of the area include fines and imprisonment.  This is bullet damage from before the site was protected as it is now.

Thankfully, the Park is now safe from vandalism.

Some of these works are proven to be between 2,000 - 3,000 years old.  Others are believed to be 400 - 700 years old.

This spiraling circle represents the circle of life.

This is a silent place, a sacred place.  We stood and thought about the people who lived and traveled through The Rio Grande Valley.  Their petroglyphs have survived thousands of years of weather, allowing us to stand here today and admire their work, to stand in their footprints.  

They walked here, they stood here, they lived here.  

Do you hear the silence?

The images range in size 

from a handspan to over a square foot in size.

The artists used the natural formation 

of the rocks to exhibit their work: 

I know, you're secretly thinking, Dear Gawd, I hope she didn't take a photo of all 24,000.  You're welcome.

The Thunderbird:

Being in the desert is like slipping into a fuzzy warm pair of footie pajamas.  I loved feeling the sun warm my bones.  And the quiet.

(No, these aren't my bones).

The Spanish introduced sheep, horses and other livestock; 

they too carved into the black rock in their own unique style:

They also introduced and celebrated their religion:

Zuma was very happy to walk the 2.2 mile round trip through Riconada Canyon.  The site covers the 17 mile escarpment with petroglyphs in three canyons.

Zuma The Desert Dawg:

She was fascinated by all the scents and tracks.  

We didn't spot any live animals other than a few small birds perched on dried grasses and hawks soaring overhead, but there was evidence a-plenty of desert hares and other slithery critters who left their wavy trails in the sand.  There are Roadrunners here but none crossed our path, only their light tracks. I'm just really freaking glad we didn't stumble upon a Rattlesnake. I'm still not over that snake museum.

Even in this barren desert landscape, 

there are many signs of life, both past and present.

"Take time to look .... " ~ Georgia O'Keeffe.

#rinconadacanyon, ##Petroglyphnationalmonument, #alberquerque, #desertnewmexico, #petroglyphs, #riograndevalley, #nationalparkservice, #travelingwithgreatdanedog