December 10, 2001 - A

"The Dawn Soon Comes"

I'd read about the Discover special on prehistoric beasts in the Casa Grande TV Guide, during a break at work. Airing on Sunday, we would be in Yuma at that time, in the motel room which has cable.

Said to be amazing for its realistic depictions of the the beasties which came right after the dinosaurs went extinct, but before the critters with which we're familiar came into being, I wanted to see it.

Amazing, it was. They really appeared live, with accurate muscular movement as they moved. I'll never forget the sight of a six foot high bird eating a horse about the size of a cat.

I saw the precursor of the whale, and a monkey like creature. There were long weasel like creatures with long snouts . . .

. . . and then I don't remember any more, for drowsiness overtook me, and I fell fast asleep. Laura, too, had drifted easily into sleep, as well.

She doesn't 'drift easily' into sleep in Casa Grande. Oh, how slow will be the time until we are here in Yuma for good.

But today we are here for a little while longer. We get the keys to the apartment, and have a small load to leave there. But now, the sky is still dark, however. The dawn soon comes, though.

 

December 10, 2001 - B

"So New The Future"

Strong Enough Empty page, what shall I write upon it? Empty page, like all the days to come, so new the future. Take this hope, a tiny bird, (take an image of this hope, and pin it to the page.) let the bird free on the wide open sky. It will know its own destination, how lifted up with flight it will be. The strong billows will carry it far. So, too, the faith that carries us, up and far away. Rise now, little bird, and find your wings strong enough. JAL, 12 - 10 - 01

 

December 11, 2001

"Learning To Let Go"

Last night, Laura took the floor plan for our new abode, and kept sketching on it, trying to figure how things are going to fit. ''We just can't take all this stuff,'' she implored. I hadn't yet wrapped my head around the concept of just how small is small. ''This is nothing more than a glorified hotel room,'' Laura wailed.

Through out the years, we have gathered and gathered. I am the greedy one. I do not want to let go. I want to hold onto all the stuff I've gathered through out my forty three years of life. I am amused to read in an horoscope of my Scorpian nature, ''You've proven to everyone that you can hold on. Your staying power is second to none. Now learn to let go. Every day find something to sell, give away, throw out or burn. If you want to get the most out of life, let go of old crap, literally, figuratively, and most of all, psychologically.''

And so it is, that life now forces me to do so. This is painful for me. I know Julia and Laura are making many sacrifices, as well, only a lot more graciously. This is a lesson I know I need, on many levels.

But it doesn't come easily.

 

December 12, 2001

"Little Steps"

I sit in a pile of mess. It is my job today to clean up my computer and sewing machine area. Over a years worth of clutter has gathered, and my mind boggles as I dig through it. It must be pristine clean. When did I become such a complete SLOB? Such slovenly habits cannot follow us to the new home.

Earlier, I looked at my closet. The new place will have only one meter (39 inches) of rod and underneath space to work with. I must reduce the hanging clothes by one third. What few things can I store in boxes, what must be given away? The mind boggles. As I've said before, I want to keep it all. I cannot keep it all. The mind boggles.

In the midst of this clutter, I come across many small pads with yellow lined note paper. The roughs of several old journal entries have been scratched on them. I tear those sheets off, and toss. However one, a small poem, I stop to read. Written back in February, it seems good advice for today.

I Can See It In the darkness, a sparkling light never seems so far away. It is the light of the home portal, the aimpoint making our steps sure. To the faith that informs us, and strengthens us, we cast our eye. It is the long shot, but I can see it, from here I can see it. One step will lead to the next. JAL, 2-23-01

'Tis good advice for me today. One step will lead to the next. And now I'd best get back at my little 'steps'.

 

December 13, 2001 - A

"Difficult Problems"

The days continue apace. One large black bag of trash is out, consisting of flotsam and jetsam from around my computer area, and in the bill drawer. Two more boxes are packed. Also, when I removed all the empty hangers (which used to hold my smaller size clothing, now in bags stored in the shed and destined for Goodwill), I found I could squish the remainder, after putting some summer items into one of those boxes, into the one meter alloted space. WHEW!

Aye, the computer and sewing area, however, still isn't perfect. I have a ton of sewing supplies I won't be able to take. We'll be lucky to barely have room for the sewing machine and serger.

Thus it is, that I had to laugh when I saw my fortune cookie fortune last night. If you don't already know, I'm a bit superstitious about them. Too often they're eerily prophetic. And so what did the tiny oracle say this time?

You never hesitate to tackle the most difficult problems.

In the past, I can't say this is true. But certainly this must become true in the present.

How did I acquire this fortune? At work, one of my co-workers often goes out to lunch, and brings things for us, as well, no delivery charge. Last night, she craved Chinese, so I didn't miss the chance to have some 'house special fried rice'. What was her fortune? It promised greater popularity with ease. And why shouldn't she be popular? Besides being friendly and cheerful, she brings food!

I will miss my co-workers once we move. It won't be long, now, as we'll be fully moved out of here by next Saturday, only ten days away. However, Laura's sons James and Anton will man the U-Haul truck this coming Thursday, one week away. Julia and I will remain behind, me for last minute cleaning, and Julia to finish her last day of work.

I have a lot of 'difficult problems' to quickly tackle!

Wish us luck!

 

December 13, 2001 - B

"Cough, Cough, Cough"

COUGH, COUGH, COUGH,  Laura violently coughs, after using her nebulizer, lungs trying to purge the crap that settles in them. It is all fine 'micro particles' too small for the pollution control people to measure. But they lodge and layer themselves in our lungs. Julia and I also cough, feeling the crud in our bronchial tubes.

Laura, however, is so weakened by this, her heart hurts all the time here. The man next door, a crusty sort of man you'd think too tough to be bothered much by anything, complained of not being able to breath, and then had an heart attack. We wondered why we hadn't seen him around recently. Alas, he was in the hospital.

He plans on suing the company that built the power plant, which intends to build two more. I wish him luck, but fear he is no more than a mosquito to this mega corporation. They will simply brush him away.

He can stay and sue. We're getting out of here. I took down all of Laura's and Julia's wall decorations today and packed them away. It involved much arm over head actions, which Laura must be careful to avoid.

Indeed, she must mostly rest until she's out of here. On our next trip to Yuma this weekend, she will remain there when I return on Monday. Perhaps when Anton and James bring the U-Haul on Thursday, she'll be more rested, and her lungs and heart recovered some.

Until then, the days pass slowly.

We watch the national news, and it seems rather distant. What does it mean, ''Abandoning a landmark arms-control regime of three decades, President Bush said Thursday the United States is pulling out of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty with Russia in hopes of building the world's first shield against nuclear missile attacks. '' Ominous, it sounds.

Meanwhile, we are more concerned with the present dangers here.

 

December 17, 2001

"At Home"

Oh, I am sleepy. I've had a full day today, and it's not over.

We got Laura safely arrived at our new home in Yuma yesterday. I was to have returned to C.G. today, without Laura, but, as I said, I'm sleepy. Too tired to safely get there, so poor Julia must find another way home from work.

And just how did I get so sleepy? I got up while it was still dark and tackled a metal shelving unit. They do not supply enough shelves, so to make one case, two kits are needed. They're cheap enough, only ten bucks apiece, so that's not a problem.

Also, having the stabilizer pieces from the two kits enabled me to make the unit good and sturdy. I rather like the chevron effect they give.

Shelving unit with chevron stabilizer bars

Laura really liked my efforts, too. ''If we use THAT one for the kitchen, we could use another one to store the bathroom items and tools.'' You're getting the picture! We went out to the Walmart, and got another set. I finished that unit before noon, all except the final tightening of the bolts, which Laura said she'd do later .

I still had hopes of getting back to pick up Julia. Laura suggested we go out to eat, and craved Mexican. That was one thing Casa Grande had, a decent Mexican food place. Would Yuma have anything at least equal to Cafe Manuel? I tried looking at the phonebook. It's hard to tell by just the name whether a place is good or not. I figured Taqueria Jalisco sounded authentic enough. And furthermore, it is close to where we live.

Their chile rellenos are quite tasty. We no doubt, shall eat there often. I do want to test their chilequiles to see if they're as good as the ones in Tucson. But I'll remember the small horchata drink will be sufficient. The large was sixty four ounces. Not only was that restaurant good, there are several others we can try later, as well.

All of that good food in me, I was no longer hungry, but still very weary. I laid down for a nap and slept soundly. When I awoke, it was too late to get Julia. She graciously understood, and was glad I'd gotten so much accomplished.

Now feeling a little more refreshed, Laura and I will take turns in the tub. Ah, when I'm in that nice, lovely tub, then I shall truly feel I've arrived at home!

 

December 18, 2001

"To Keep Awake"

Dark, I arose from the floor-bed, and met Laura in the make-shift living room. Her computer, propped up on boxes, ready should she wish to play a game, waited silently. Laura sat, clearing her lungs, able to clear them.

It was time to make the journey back. I wasn't hungry, but Laura insisted I take a couple of hard boiled eggs. I threw some drinks and some thin candy canes in my lunch box, as well. A good kiss and a hug, and I was off. I won't see Laura for several days.

On the dark roads, I proceeded carefully. Five minutes to four, I could not hurry enough to arrive in time to bring Julia to work. That is, if I wanted to be safe. Cautious through twisting dark mountain paths, I could only see in the small patch illuminated by my headlights.

Around five o'clock, I arrived at the first rest station, and pulled in. Those hard boiled eggs sounded good to me and I quickly de-shelled and devoured them. I washed them down with a few swigs of bottled tea. Making a quick dash to the restroom, the shells fell to the ground, and then I was back on the road.

Restroom at second rest area was used, and further on down the dark roads I went. The signal of a radio station with amazing variety, Z93, lasted as long as I did. At Citrus-something road, I had to park and pause. Scary, it was, being a female alone on an unlit stretch of road. But, my, those STARS, they sparkled like many little diamonds, with a few larger sparklers thrown in.

And then off again. 'Seek' command on radio brought strange results: a Spanish station whose disc jockey I strained to understand. I could pick out the words 'menudo', 'flautas', they must be talking about food, oh, 'deliciouso', they were definately talking about food! A mention of 'Indian School Road', and I could tell the station was broadcasting from Phoenix.

Another use of the 'seek' function resulted in a country western station. Not all bad that, I have at last heard the 'HO HO song', which even has its own web site. My life is complete, I've now heard Jingle Bells done entirely with laugh sounds.

Then a too-easy listening station, which almost put me to sleep, and finally a light rock station. Struggling I was, now, with road hypnosis. The perfect evenness of path almost lulled me into slumber. I set the temperature a little cooler, to keep awake. The sky began to lighten, which also helped keep me alert enough.

Not long after I pulled onto the 151 exit, which leads to Casa Grande, I saw the tall, giant smoky plumes of the evil plant. All along the last miles of the path to the trailer, the spector haunted me. I am so glad Laura is back where the air is clean.

Earlier this weekend, she reflected back to when her health problems got so depressingly dismal. It was back when the dog ran away. Laura could not chase after that dog. It wasn't so long ago, that that little dog was such a source of joy. But just before the dog ran away, Laura couldn't even descend the stairs to tend her without being greatly out of breath. WHEN did that happen? YES, it was AFTER the power plant began spewing! Laura would confide to me, late at night, side by side together in the cool darkness of our bedroom, just HOW depressing her health situation was becoming. ''If it gets any worse, I don't know how long I can take it,'', she confessed. We did not know then just HOW responsible the pollution WAS for her condition. We knew it was an irritant, but did not suspect anything that serious. Laura seriously thought she was coming to the end of her days.

And in Yuma, yes, she still has emphysema, she still must cough to clear her lungs. She must still use the nebulizer, but there is none of the depression, for she CAN get a lungful of air. She'd been literally starving for oxygen all these months.

Say what they will, those scoffers, who would accuse us of being 'paranoid' or 'delusional'. We know the before, and we know the after. It's criminal, what's being done to this town.

I am grateful we have this chance at a new start. I feel sorry for each and every good resident of the town of Casa Grande. They don't deserve this. No one deserves this.

Well, maybe Bin Laden, maybe HIM! Him, rejoicing in a videotape, never having suspected the great damage two planes would do to the towers, yes, HE deserves crappy air!

 

December 19, 2001

"Until Then"

Oh, do I have a busy day ahead of me! This morning, I must take apart the two remaining computers and prepare them for transport. There's a zillion other things I need to do, as well. But the computers are the first tasks I shall tackle today. You'll not hear from me again until we are totally settled in Yuma. This is not to say I won't be writing entries on those little yellow pads, just that they won't be htmlized and sent up until then. Our current internet provider, c2i2, has outlets there, so we will keep with them.

How long will it take me to finish cleaning this place up, and pack the straggling stuff after James and Anton bring the big load there, I'm not sure at this point. Ideally, I'd like to say Saturday. By Christmas, you may hear from me. If not, have a good and merry Christmas, everyone!

 

December 20, 2001 - A

"Such An Able Team"

Old house is now empty, or nearly empty. A small army, consisting of Anton, Cynthia, James, a friend of James (Pablo? Pablano?), and I, went through it, and cleared it out.

The 'U-Haul' was not ready for us at eight when James and I went in. The dealer did not arrive until a half hour later. The one lone 14ft unit they had had a leaky water pump. HORRORS! We didn't want that! Imagine being broken down in the middle of the god-forsaken desert!

So we had to wait some more while they got a different truck from another dealer. Not all bad, that, for we could have a 17ft truck for the same price. And we needed it.

Oh, we needed it. Many strong hands carried many things into it. Cynthia sort of took command and said the mattresses should go in first. Two sets went in, the extra heavy sofa, then dressers, empty of drawers, then drawers to go into dressers . . .

. . . I could carry only a couple of the lighter drawers. I got put on 'light duty'. I mostly hauled armfuls of clothing, to be put in both Cynthia's car and Laura's Mother's car. The cars were reserved for that, and for the big TV and computer components.

By the time I'd piled the last small item into the car, the heavy-duty troops had piled the last large item into the truck. I called Laura the minute the U-HAUL pulled out of the driveway, so she'd know how soon to expect everyone. It's about a three hour trip, if you travel neither fast nor slow.

Dazed and weary, I sat down to eat a donut James had thoughtfully supplied the troops and a glass of milk. OLD, I felt, and I didn't like it. I have a 10-6 shift tonight, as does Cynthia. That didn't stop her from going into Yuma. I also offered the excuse that I needed to pick Julia up at 5:30, when she gets off of work. Still, it's not much of an excuse, for she could have found some other way home. Cynthia will manage on a short nap, later when they are back.

I needed my nap NOW! And to floor-bed, I went. A couple of hours later, I woke up, from a strange dream. Well, for DREAMS, it wasn't so strange.

Everyone, included me, was reunited with Laura. Dream strangeness, it was, that the new house looked just like the old house, prior to dismantling.

We were telling 'the glories of the war'. In this dream Anton had a bad shoulder. He was exulting that his shoulder held out so well. I asked him if he had arthritis in it. Not sure, he was waiting for the test results to come in. ''Of course, it doesn't show up in the early stages'', I assured him, having had that experience 'in real life'.

''Now, on your Gramma's joints,'' all eyes focused to Laura's Mother, wearing her favorite white ruffled top, not taking up much space in Julia's rocker, ''It shows up in HER tests, and it showed up in Serena's tests . . .''

All eyes then went to Serena, sporting her new hairstyle, and wearing a favorite tan and black striped dress with a vee neck and short, fluttery sleeves. Serena, after her bad fall, has only recently been able to get about without a walker. She brightened up and said, ''Yeah, I'm fifty one years old, and it shows up in MY tests, heh, heh'' I think she's slighter older than fifty one in real life, but still well within the 'middle ages'.

At this point, eyes turned to me, as I wailed ''All I could carry were clothes, and light items, and I got more weary than anyone!. Anton assured me ''Don't worry about it, you did what you could.'' It didn't reassure me.

''Yeah, I 'did what I could' '', I weakly replied.

Real life intruded at this point, and I was again on the hard floor, not much softened by a quilt. Ah, we all have our own weakness. This evening, Julia, unable to sleep on the floor, will sleep in Anton and Cynthia's spare bedroom. Poor Julia gets stiff even on a bed. But I think it's muscular stiffness with her. I always waken a little joint-stiff, but after I'm up and about, it loosens.

I cast my eyes to the small red numbered alarm clock, which will go when Julia and I go to Yuma. It was three o'clock. Having left at noon, the troops should be there by now. I'm grateful to have such an able team on our side.

We'd have never made it without them.

 

December 20, 2001 - B

"A Goodbye Wave"

Bringing Julia 'home' from her last day at work, a brilliant sunset greeted us. It seemed a fitting end to our days in Casa Grande, and Julia encouraged me to grab the camera.

Tabletop mountains in distance

A goodbye wave . . .