Just another day in Llano Quemado. The last time I saw the same guy moving horses, he was driving a pickup—slowly!—with several of them tied to the bumper. This may be a seasonal thing, shifting animals to a cold-weather location closer to his house, or maybe he’s just lonesome. This is New Mexico, after all, and stranger things have happened.
You will note he’s talking on the phone as he rides. You will also note how nice and sunny it is. There’s a winter storm scheduled for late Sunday into Monday, with lows in the teens. That’s why I busied myself today with making sure sufficient firewood is split and stacked inside the house, the snow shovel is in grabbing distance just outside the door, and making sure a load of laundry made it to the clothesline before the clouds rolled in.
No, we don’t have a dryer. There’s nowhere good to put it, anyway. We don’t have anything except computers, musical instruments, books, an old cat, and each other. I threw away a rotten pair of Eddie Bauer fleece-lined slippers today, along with a ratty old Levi’s shirt. If I were honest about the thing, I’d toss almost all my clothes, but as I seem to be afraid I’ll never have nice things again, I guess I’ll keep the rest and look like hell. Probably I’m not doing this right. I had a psycho-analyst once, but she was crazier than I am so I fired her.
Jesus, do we ever need to leave this black hole of adobe hell.
The next phase may be just as looney but an atom bomb of joy. I hope it happens well before the spring. The love of my life has a birthday coming up in February—what a present that would be for both of us. I tell her every day I only want to be with her. Turns out she only wants to be with me. That’s it, it’s all so simple. The luckiest man on Earth will find a way.