Of course I was the early riser again, but I actually like it. Well, until the cold of the main room penetrates my bones. The thermostat still isn't improved, since why would it be if nobody's complained? Or even if we had while somebody (us) is staying there? My PJs are just fine while under the blankets, but Steve was still using those and I couldn’t drag them out with me. Worst case, I’d return to bed if necessary. Not really a worst case since Steve's a human furnace.
The morning brought a bonus. The snow had accumulated on the tops of the low mountains in the western distance, and I was finally able, now skies had cleared, to catch them front lit by the sunrise. There wasn’t a lot of red, but enough to go for the camera. The grass in the nearer orchard had just a touch of frost, lasting just long enough to be seen by Steve when he got up. You'll have to take my word on the frost, since the grass there is so light in color that frost doesn't show in a photo.
Since he was up, I went in and packed everything of mine from the bedroom and brought it out. Steve later did the same with his stuff, but left some of my forgotten things behind since his belongings had covered them, hiding them when I packed. Eventually our stuff was out and the bedroom cleared.
Our friends filtered into the common area and another story fest began. Steve read several of his favorites from his blog. While listening, my friend had been filling in a sketch she’d made the previous day of one of the fresh oranges I’d brought up to share. This one had two leaves still attached, since that’s how the neighbor had cut it from his tree, and she found the now slightly shriveled appearance of those leaves worth immortalizing before eating the fruit. Now she brought out her paints, mixed a few, and added oranges and greens to her work. Once finished, she presented it to me. I had earlier taken a photo of orange, pile of pencils, and sketch sitting on the table once she’d left the room after finishing the drawing part. The orange was now long eaten, pencils put away. I took another photo at home after the painted sketch was dried and flattened.
Both photos were later emailed to her. I figured it helped commemorate the good news she'd gotten while up here once her cell started receiving signals again. She had submitted drawings to a friend who has been working on publishing a short children's book, and just received the text announcing the project was to be printed, along with a picture of a several-page layout with pictures included.
Once Steve finished his stories, he told a tale that reminded me of a couple of mine, posted years ago. I spent some time locating them while conversation flowed, and read them as well. But time was running out. I promised to email her links to both sets of stories, his and mine, and we quit telling ours and listening to theirs. We were nearly packed, but they weren’t. At least one still needed a shower. So I packed the car, double-checked everything, and Steve and I decided to head out so they could concentrate on clearing out before the deadline for checkout passed. Professional cleaners were due within a short window before the next occupants arrived.
One question had gone around the group earlier. The owners wanted feedback, so what should we tell them? How about it was beautiful inside and out and we found it relaxing? Don’t forget the toaster needed to be replaced. It burns the outsides of the bread, but heats nothing on the inner sides, and never trips the spring to pop it up. The shower/spa tub wasn't safe for geezers like us, having a slick bottom and no safety bars, so suggest a mat or adhesive rough surface and something to hang on to? There was one fall, resulting "only" in bruises. The pool cues need new felt tips. When used they would send a ball anywhere... else. Steve vouched for his fishing buddy that he was in fact a pretty decent pool player and the cue tips were indeed awful. Only one game was played. My friend bemoaned the lack of any measuring cups or spoons in the kitchen, but part of me doubts many customers really cook from scratch while on vacation and miss those. Maybe that’s just me, but I’m not there to cook, I’m there for the companionship and the scenery. And shopping, I guess. Add that the furnace has those long delays between turning on and back off. Oh, and another light would be handy in the living room area, though we disagreed about what kind. We actually borrowed a light from a different area for the table during meals, reinforcing my idea that dim light for eating just isn't romantic. One of the group suggested a ceiling light, but since the likely location was over the pool/pingpong table, that didn’t seem ideal to me, just scattered glass shards waiting to happen.
Going home was actually relaxing. It was just the two of us again. I’d looked at the gas gauge in the car and discovered just over half a tank left, so decided not to fill until we got home. Just as I decided, we drove past a sign advertising gas for $.50 per gallon less that we’d seen for months. Too late to stop. The funny part was the next sign I noticed was another $.40 higher. Was this the effects of the invasion catching up that quickly? Likely not, for by the time I did fill our tank it was almost exactly the same price as when we’d left.
We reminisced about the week, and enjoyed the snow on all the mountain tops in the distance, surprised that there was high snow even to the northern exurbs of Phoenix, later finding it had rained in our yard. If you think that's an odd phrasing, it simply reflects how scattered rain patterns are down here.
Have you ever heard dog cry? Not whine, actually cry? That’s what I was greeted with as we came inside the house. I was just happy that she didn’t pee on the floor just to see us, back like my aunt’s little dog used to do every time somebody came to the door. But Rich had been taking good care of her. Not the house so much, but the dog was fine. I took her out back for just-in-case. The rain guage on the back fence registered half an inch. Next day heading out in the car I noted the volunteer long-spined prickly pear in the front yard has flower buds covering all the outer edges of each of the pads. We should have the first blooms about a week, looking at how the temperatures are supposed to rise by then.
Meantime, the house is a bit cleaner than when we arrived home to a protest of “But you were supposed to be gone until tomorrow” from Rich. The car is unpacked, my laundry done, and my lap dog doing an excellent job of warming my lap again. She’s still trying to decided which of the two of us, me or Rich, is her official feeder now. I finally figured out that was her issue this morning. She hadn’t eaten for two days since we got back, but suddenly Rich popped his head in again and she raced to her food bowl and cleaned it out.
We’re gonna have to work on that. The tail whipping he gets when he shows up - nobody really wants to cure that.
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