My office. Where I hide from Sir Rantsalot.
Where Daisy hides. She's tucked away in the big green chair.
You can't see the dust but it's there.
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Geesh, it's like we never left Sedona. While I returned for a couple of days post trailer trip to sort out the mail and make sure the house was still standing, last night was Paul's first time back here in three-and-half months.
Can't say anything much has changed. Our across-the-canyon neighbor repainted her house a soft sea foam green (remember, this part of Arizona was once under a vast prehistoric ocean) and a pile of building materials that was toppling over in someone's yard has been removed. It would have been there forever had not the other neighbors complained.
I miss the trailer life. Sure, the "big house" in Sedona is lovely but boy, it's a lot of work. The high desert is a dust-filled environment. Minute particles of dust blow in through the tiniest cracks in the windows and under doors. You can't really see it until the sun shines and then, bam! It covers the floors like a soft reddish carpet. On top of that I realize just how much stuff we have. And all of it needs to be dusted and cleaned and maintained.
The above musings aren't complaints but merely observations. Everyone should be as lucky as we are.
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Our five-hour drive up here in the little Honda has Paul's back in spasms again. Pain down the left leg has sent him into another of his liberal tirades. The old fart has no pain threshhold and unfortunately it manifests into a rip-roaring rant against phony conservatives. His latest has to do with Miss California and her fake boobs and phony indignation about gay marriage. My "gaydar" is on and I think Mr. Ryan might have a bit of latent homosexuality coming out, so to speak. And he's back to wearing his flamboyant Home Depot orange lounge pants.
Now he's busting a gut over Joe the Plumber whose real name isn't even "Joe" nor is he a plumber...but a divorced father who has abandoned his family. A prime candidate to run with Sarah Palin as VP in 2012. Now there's a pair to draw to.
Dear Lord, please let Paul's pain come to an end so that mine will, too.
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Keep it clean, please. And nice. And complimentary.