When I’m not reading bewildering books about the coming of the cyborgs, or unpacking moving boxes (which I’m still doing, yes, I’m still unpacking moving boxes; I’ve done all the easy ones, now for the hard ones)… when I’m not doing all those other things, I’m obsessing about that pool in Tucson.
I’m a poor swimmer. I had swimming lessons as a child, but I kept flunking them. Yes, it is possible to flunk your YMCA swim lessons, in fact, I flunked the first level several times…year after year. I was small for my age, so for the first couple of years I looked like all the other kids. But as I failed to progress, and grew taller than everyone, the kids started asking me my age and I was very embarrassed.
I don’t remember why I wasn’t passing the lessons. I don’t think I was particularly afraid of the water or refusing to do what I was supposed to do. I was a timid and insecure child, but also motivated to please and trying to do the right thing. This resulted in me becoming accustomed to doing things I thought I was supposed to do, even if they frightened me.
I suspect my failure to learn to swim had more to do with an impaired kinesthetic sense than anything else. Basically it’s hard for me to understand what to do with my brain in order to have my body do what I want it to do.
So on our vacation in Tucson, I was determined to work on my swimming, and very excited to have an entire private pool all to myself for several days. Here I am, blissfully resting on a pool noodle.
Here’s John relaxing by the pool.
I don’t have pictures of me actually attempting to learn new swimming techniques, but it went sort of like this:
Me: THRASH-SPLASH-THRASH-SPLASH, GASP-GASP, “Did I go anywhere?”
John: “Um, well, maybe?” (He’s so polite.)
Me: “I didn’t go anywhere, did I?”
John: “Well, maybe not.”
I can swim across the pool doing a couple of different versions of “my own thing”. They’re not official swimming strokes, and are inefficient, inelegant and exhausting. I’m also fairly decent at just staying afloat on my back.
However, when resting on the pool noodle, I could kick myself across the water with very little effort. I went back and forth across the pool, over and over. It was relaxing and meditative and very wonderful.
It reminded me of a pleasant hike; a smooth, flat hike in the trees. (No cliffs, no lightening, no steep slippery crushed granite, no high winds, no cactus, no rattlesnakes – ok, I assume rattlesnakes don’t get into pools? I hope? Right?
The water was very relaxing, the way it pushed against all of me in an equal, gentle pressure. I loved being in the pool! I also credit that pool for alleviating an oncoming migraine one day.
I know that public pools are readily available and I’ve tried them. They’re loud, they’re confusing, there’s people everywhere, I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know where I am, I don’t see very well, I’m freezing cold, people are bumping into me and splashing me, indoor pools stink and are echoey and echoes give me migraines (I know that’s weird but they do), and I don’t know or understand the subtle norms of locker rooms or the pool itself, and it’s total chaos.
I’ve never actually been in my own private pool before. When the pool is quiet, and still, and calm, and warm, I can focus on just the water.
John spent a lot of time reading his book poolside, but he also enjoyed the water.
It’s cold, he says. Haha, look at that face!
Ahh, happy now.
We’re continuing to check out Tucson whenever we visit. Here’s a pool at a house we went to see during an open house. The house was just completely remodeled and the pool was brand new.
It was a nice house, but more money than we want to spend. There was a time when Tucson was very affordable, but not so much anymore. Tucson is definitely more expensive than Albuquerque. Most places where people would choose to retire are more expensive than Albuquerque. Guess we need to save for a few more years!
You may remember the $2,000 door fiasco at the Placitas house. If not, never mind. I’m trying to forget about it. Water under the bridge – that house is SOLD.
You also may also remember that we’re trying to add a door from the master bedroom to our new side courtyard at our current house. I bought the door back in June or July, but it turned out I bought the wrong door. I didn’t know that we have 6″ jamb rather than for 4″ construction. So we had to return the door. Turns out Home Depot doesn’t stock the type we need, so we special-ordered a replacement door and waited forever for it to arrive.
The special-order door finally arrived, right before we left for a few days in Tucson. Our carpenter, Calob, said he’d pick up and install the door while we were gone. It sounded too good to be true. We’d just come home and have a new door all ready and waiting?
Calob is very talented, but things often take a little longer than he expects. So John and I made bets about whether he would actually have the door done by the time we got back home (we didn’t think so). The day before we were due home, I got an email from Home Depot letting me know that the door had been picked up. That’s progress at least.
Of course the door wasn’t actually installed when we got home. But Calob had cut into the interior wall and rerouted some wires that were in the way. The next day, he cut into the exterior stucco. Now we had a big hole in our house.
But when Calob went to install the door, he discovered that Home Depot had sent the wrong door. It was another 4″ door! And I had spent twice as much to get the 6″ spec.
Here’s a picture of a piece of drywall resting over the door-sized hole in the house. We got a short but furious rain shower during the time that Calob was off at Home Depot returning the door.
After returning the door, and we were left facing the prospect of reordering the same door again, waiting another 3 weeks, and hoping they would send the right door this time.
Luckily the Home Depot guy felt bad for us, and gave us the phone number of a local door company where we could order a door. So we called the local company and they can get us the same door for significantly cheaper! It’s still going to take 2-3 weeks though.
Calob installed a piece of plywood over the hole while we wait for our (3rd) new door to arrive.
Looks like I’ve got some clean up I can do while I wait.
When I mentioned to Darren that we were going to spend 5 days vacationing in Tucson this month, his comment was something like, “What fresh hell is this?”
And I understand the sentiment. Earlier this spring, when an employee of mine submitted a leave slip for August, and mentioned they were going to Tucson, I also wondered why someone would go to Tucson in the summer. He explained that they rent a house with a pool and spend the week relaxing by the pool. And I realized that actually sounded really nice.
I’ve always wanted a pool, ever since one of my favorite weeks in my childhood:
It’s not even an in-ground pool, but the distinction was lost on me.
I was raised in a cold and rainy place and the highlight of my year was when I would get to go down to California to visit my grandparents all by myself, or sometimes with my brother.
On this particular occasion, my grandparents and I went to visit friends of theirs who had a little girl my age. I don’t remember for sure what her name was – I imagine it might have been Jenna.
I am also not sure where they lived. I have a memory that it was Redding, but it’s possible it was somewhere else and this family only later moved to Redding, or it’s possible it was a different set of my grandparent’s friends who at some point moved to Redding.
Regardless of the details, it was a magical week with a built-in best friend and a pool in the sunshine.
Skip forward to last fall. In October, John and I made the decision to sell our house in Placitas in the spring. The decision to sell that house opened up the bigger question of where we wanted to live.
One option would be to get new jobs elsewhere. We would like to be somewhere between John’s mom in Houston and my kids in Boise and California. And we like warm climates.
Tucson was high on our list because John could easily get a job at Raytheon. Also on our list, where we felt we could both find jobs, was Austin (very cool city), Houston (where we have relatives), Sacramento (centrally located between the kids), San Diego (except it’s expensive), or Santa Fe (under that scenario, John would commute to Los Alamos).
You all probably remember that nutty time last winter when we were seriously looking at moving to a variety of places. We considered a house in Nambe, between Santa Fe and Los Alamos. I tried hard to talk John into considering a beautiful house in the south valley (it has a rough reputation down there and he said no). We made a low-ball offer on one in Corrales, near the river just north of Albuquerque. We bid over list price but still lost the bid on a house in Santa Fe. Then I resigned from my job thinking we were moving to Texas. Finally we abruptly just bought a random house in our old neighborhood in Albuquerque, for lack of a better idea.
We tossed away our dream-house wish-list, and just bought something small and practical that should sell well once we do decide where we eventually want to live. We’re still going to move again. Just not right away.
Anyway, that whole digression was just to explain our other reason for going to Tucson in August. We wanted to see how bad the Tucson summer heat really was, because we’re still considering moving there someday. We have heard horror stories about the summer heat in Tucson! And certainly the population of Tucson drops in the summer time.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of my biggest criteria for a location is being able to be outside comfortably, for as much as the year as possible. Is that possible in Tucson summer?
What we discovered on our visit, is that Tucson it feels exactly like Albuquerque in the summer; hot with afternoon thundershowers.
When we left Albuquerque earlier this week, the previous day had gotten to 100 degrees. When we arrived in Tucson, it was 105. I don’t know about you, but I can’t really tell the difference between 100 and 105!
Also while we were there, Albuquerque temps actually exceeded Tuscon temps. Then it cooled off a bit and was in the 90’s in both places for the remainder of the week.
Of course, those of you who don’t live in Albuquerque and/or don’t like the heat, are not going to be impressed with the argument that Tucson is no worse than Albuquerque in the summer. But for me – well, I love Albuquerque in the summer!
Another big criteria of mine is not just being outside, but also being able to exercise outside. In middle of the summer in both locations, as dawn arrives, it rapidly gets too hot to hike or jog. That is when a swimming pool comes in really handy!
I promised the universe that if I won the lottery I would start a non-profit and hire my whole team that I had when I was working at the Air Quality Bureau. And we’d do our same air quality work, but we’d do it without bureaucratic interference or political motivations. We’d analyze the data and sue to clean up New Mexico air quality.
Of course I won’t win the lottery. And maybe I won’t have to. John sent me this very interesting article – maybe this company can do what my team was not given the resources or permission to do.
A couple of weeks ago we spent a night at a local resort to celebrate our anniversary, and then the next weekend we spent a night in a local casita.
For our anniversary, we went to the same place as last year. It’s a resort hotel just north of Albuquerque, in the countryside near Bernalillo. It’s out by itself on a fair amount of land along the river.
Last year we really enjoyed jogging on the bosque trails.
This year my leg is still healing from my big fall while backpacking in Idaho, so I can’t jog yet. Luckily the resort offers bicycles for rent, so we rode bikes on the trails instead of jogging.
We also really enjoyed the pools. This one is adults-only, and there is also a larger pool for families.
In addition to celebrating our anniversary, we were “testing” a new dog sitter. We need to find new dog sitters because our previous dog sitter, in Placitas, doesn’t work in Albuquerque. We like to try out dog sitters for just one night before leaving on a longer trip, in case there are any issues. We also want to have cell tower (and not be camping) when we have a new sitter in case they need to reach us.
We wanted to test out two dog sitters, in case one was busy we’d have another option. So the next weekend we spent a night in a local Airbnb rental, a casita in the north valley, to try out the second dog sitter.
It was a cute little casita, with the owner living in the main house.
Here’s a side shot of the main house:
And the casita:
It had brick floors and mud-brick walls.
We brought our bikes and went biking along the Bosque trail, which is a lot nicer than the Tramway trail that’s near our house. For one thing, the Tramway trail crosses a lot of streets, which is very disruptive while riding. Just as I get into a contemplative reverie, suddenly I have to make sure I’m not going to be squashed by a car.
The Bosque trail goes along near the river, and since there are very few bridges across the river, there are very few roads to cross. And the roads that it does cross are busy ones, so the trail is routed under them. It’s very nice to be able to ride along and not worry about intersections.
Also the Bosque trail is lush, green and shady with cottonwood trees and other river plants. I didn’t take any photos while riding, but the river and bosque are some of the prettiest parts of Albuquerque.
I’m really hoping to get down to the bosque again this fall, when the cottonwood leaves turn a cheerful yellow.
Kai turned 13 a few days ago. That’s getting pretty old for a dog. His knee is slowly healing, and he’s now walking on it sometimes.
He’s been sleeping a lot, and he’s been sleeping very soundly. Normally the dogs are always half-aware of what’s going on even when napping. So we’ve never in the past needed to actually wake a dog up for anything.
But lately Kai has not always been aware of what’s going on, so he gets startled when he wakes up. Sometimes he starts awake, loudly barking (at nothing). Or if one of us or one of the other dogs touch him and he starts up awake, he will turn and snarl very menacingly for a moment until he fully wakes up and realizes who it is, and then he’s back to normal.
Today John went over to pet him and he startled, and in addition to snarling at John he also started wailing. It was high pitched and loud. He also seemed confused. I didn’t last very long, and soon he was back to normal. We checked him over to see if he reacted in pain to any kind of prodding, but he seemed fine. He’s also eating and pooping fine.
Then a couple hours later, John walked near him (but didn’t even touch him) and again Kai started wailing. I don’t know what else to call it. It’s a very loud, high pitched noise. John thought it sounded like he was in pain; I thought it sounded like fear.
We were both fairly sure it was a cognitive issue and not something obviously physically wrong, but just to be sure, we took him into the 24-hour emergency vet (it being Saturday night). They checked him over and diagnosed him with “night terrors” and also “probable cognitive decline” due to old age.
Night terrors (also called sleep terrors) are like nightmares, but you don’t quickly wake up like you would out of a nightmare. You may seem awake to others, but you’re not actually awake. You don’t actually know what’s going on around you, and you might fight off someone who is trying to comfort you or rouse you. Likewise, a dog may bite someone trying to comfort them or wake them during a night terror.
They gave us an anti-anxiety medicine to use “as needed”, but we are reluctant to medicate him. It doesn’t make any sense to give it to him after he has a night terror because by then he’s fine. And there’s no way to predict when he’s going to have his next one.
I have night terrors myself, and do not medicate for it. So, well. There you go. Life just sucks sometimes.
After we got back from backpacking, we decided to take it easy our last day and just do a little sightseeing.
My leg was still hurting, and a slow, limping walk from the car to the courthouse and back was all that I could manage.
I was disappointed. I had wanted to walk along the Boise River Greenbelt, which is a beautiful urban trail along the river that goes all through Boise.
But we found this cute place for lunch, with a patio right on the river. Fish tacos!!! Yum, yum.
You can see the Greenbelt trail between the patio and the river, which I kept looking at, wistfully.
Then John had a great idea – a scooter! John downloaded the Lime app, and off we went in search of scooters. At first we could only find one, so they gave it to me and they walked next to me. It’s very hard to drive a scooter at walking pace!
Then we found two more scooters. Zoom, zoom!
At one point, my scooter and I just about ended up in the river! I don’t know what happened; I think I was trying to shoo an insect off my leg. Suddenly I veered off the paved trail and onto a steeply sloping, grassy embankment, heading rapidly toward the river! I shouted something dorky like, “Oh no, oh no, I don’t know what to do! What do I do?” And then I jumped off the scooter.
Luckily at that point the scooter just fell over in the grass. It was embarrassing though, because it was right in front of a restaurant patio! Instantly alerted by my initial shout, all eyes were on me. I was the lunch entertainment! (No, sorry, I don’t have any pictures of that. A video would have been great though.)
The next day we headed home. We spent the night at a state park instead of a hotel. At first I was dismayed. This is a state park? It’s all mowed and manicured. I had pictured something a little more natural. It felt like I was camping on someone’s front lawn.
But it was actually fine, once I got over my original expectations.
I was still having a lot of difficulty walking, but I made it down to the dock on the river, which was buggy but beautiful.
The next morning after Darren’s party, we planned to go backpacking with Darren. We waited while he went to church, but then when he texted us that he was going to go out to lunch with his dad and stepmom, we decided we would go on ahead and meet him out there. We had already checked out of our Airbnb and we didn’t really have anywhere else to go.
So we headed out of town toward the mountains while I texted him maps and directions of where to go.
But then we got a text back that made it sound like he wanted us to wait for him. He wrote, “I’ll probably get lost. I got lost yesterday trying to find Walmart with google maps giving me directions.”
By that time we had gone a ways out of town, so I texted him back, telling him that it would be fine, it was easy to find, etc. But before we got his response, we suddenly lost cell tower. Assuming we would have cell tower in the next town, we kept driving. Except the next town didn’t have cell tower.
By this time I was feeling bad, because Darren had never actually agreed to meet us out there, and the last we had heard was he wanted us to wait for him. I just had a bad feeling about it all. We considered turning around, but by that time we were an hour’s drive out. So we kept going.
Eventually we got to a little mountain town where our turnoff was, and it was a complete and total madhouse. Cars everywhere, the “T” intersection blocked in all 3 directions for as far as they eye could see. We had just managed to turn right onto our side road when we instantly regretted it. A big sign said the road was closed up ahead! Was it really closed? Why would the road be closed? Was it closed between us and our destination, or closed somewhere further on?
The line of cars snaking down out of the mountains disappeared around the bend. John, who is a very polite Minnesotan, was going to drive up the closed road into the mountains to take our place at the end of the line. But there was no telling how long it was! That back-up could have gone on for miles. It didn’t make any sense to me to be deliberately driving up a closed road!
So I asked John to let me drive. I blocked the entire road getting that big van turned around, and then squeezed into the line just a few cars before the intersection. Next we had a difficult left hand turn. There were no gaps in traffic at all. But we couldn’t sit there all day, not with an enormous line of traffic behind us, all trying to get down out of the mountains. So I just had to pretend I was in a less traffic-rule-oriented country and shove my way into the cross traffic.
Once we were safely on our way back, I was doubly worried about Darren. What was going to happen when he got to that intersection? He would have no cell tower and no way to contact us. Would he even see the “road closed” sign? Would he have any idea where we went? Would he be able to get turned around? He’s not as aggressive a driver as I am. Even John hadn’t wanted to deal with that gridlock. I felt absolutely terrible. Darren had asked us to wait for him, and we didn’t, and look what I got us into.
John and I didn’t have any cell tower with our personal cell phones, but John had occasional, slight blips of coverage with his work cell. As I was driving back down out of the mountains toward Boise, he concentrated on his phone, asking me to pull over whenever he saw a bar of coverage, so he could try to get a text out to Darren. So I’d pull over, but I was reluctant to stay idling for very long because we were out of time.
I assumed that Darren was following us about an hour behind. I knew he was going to lose his cell tower at any second, as he headed into the mountains. We had to reach him before he got too far and lost cell tower!
Finally, after multiple texts and voicemails, John reached him. I was unbelievably relieved. It turns out Darren was still near Boise and had cell tower, but he had a “do not disturb” function on his phone while driving.
I’m all supportive of not using the phone while driving. I’m particularly supportive of my own kids not using the phone while driving! But there have been few times in my life when I have been so desperate to get ahold of somebody. I just couldn’t imagine Darren out in that chaotic intersection in middle of the mountains, wondering if the road was really actually closed, having no idea where we went, and having no way to easily get turned around to head home, and having no idea what to do next. And it was all my fault.
Turns out, Darren had initially been so annoyed with us for leaving him behind that he had texted back saying he wasn’t going. But the text bounced back undelivered, because we had no cell tower. When he realized we didn’t get his message, he decided he had better go after all, or else we would have out there with no cell tower waiting for him, worrying sick about where he was. So he had reluctantly started out, later than I realized, which was the only reason we were able to catch him before he had gone far enough to lose cell tower.
What did we used to do before cell phones? (I remember years ago waiting for several hours for my brother – at the wrong McDonalds – in a little tiny town at the foot of the mountains in Oregon. It never occurred to either of us that the little one-stoplight town had TWO McDonalds.)
We met back at Darren’s house and debated what to do. We looked online and discovered the road was closed due to a fire to the north. However, our destination was nowhere near the fire, and could also be accessed from a southern route. So we decided to go back out and try again, taking the southern route, this time with Darren following closely behind.
Due to our late (second) start, we only backpacked in one mile, and set up camp quite close to the trail, just as soon as we had crossed into the wilderness area.
The next day we hiked further up the trail and found a better spot farther from the trail and closer to the creek.
We always pack a hammock. It was well used, despite the swarming mosquitos in the entire region.
Here is an example of the steep & narrow “V” shaped gouges from an avalanche.
John started to hike up into these ridges, but came down when a thunderstorm arrived.
Mid-July is still fairly early in the season there. It was very green, the wildflowers were beautiful and the mosquitos were plentiful!
On our last evening there, we were all hanging out down by the creek (which was near the trail) and for some reason, we had all the dogs off-leash. They had done fine off-leash up by the campsite, out of earshot of the trail. And we can often hike them off-leash if we’re on an infrequently used trail, because there’s generally plenty of time to see someone coming and put their leashes on. But we should not have had them just hanging out so close to the trail, because of the possibility of encountering other dogs. Kira was off-leash because John was playing fetch with her. The other dogs were off-leash just because we hadn’t thought about it. It was our last night there, and we had just gotten too comfortable.
Suddenly, (of course), a large, off-leash dog appears on the trail. Kira started to bark and I quickly picked her up. Then Kai realized what was going on and ran toward the larger dog, snarling. Kai is not getting any smarter with old age, but he is getting meaner. I knew who was going to lose that fight. So I ran to intercept him, with Kira still in my arms.
I tripped on a rock, and in a fraction of a second realized I was going to do a face-plant. I didn’t want to squash Kira, so I twisted to the side and landed hard on my entire right side. Kira escaped from my arms and took off running up the trail at full speed. I lay on the ground unable to move, wondering if I would ever see her again.
John and Darren both came running toward me and I told them to go find the dogs. I wasn’t bleeding, and whatever damage I might have done to my leg was already a done deal. It didn’t hurt for me to lay there a little longer. And it didn’t actually hurt very much, even though I was aware that I had hit hard.
They were able to rescue Kai from himself, and they found Kira up at the campsite (smart girl!). Rosie was just happily following them around while they reconnoitered.
After a minute or two, I tried to stand up. That wasn’t happening. I imagined having to be carried out on a stretcher. Or worse yet, a helicopter! We were only two miles in, on a relatively easy trail. Could I walk two miles the next morning with a pack on my back? Or even without a pack on my back?
John carried me up the hill to the campsite. Let me tell you, there is nothing that makes you feel more self-conscious about a few extra pounds than having to be carried several yards over a rocky field by someone not very many pounds heavier than you are.
The next morning I was hobbling around. My leg wasn’t broken, there was just something badly pulled or maybe something torn. John got me a great big stick to lean on, put all the weight from my pack into his, and we set off down the mountain. It was very hot, but I covered from head to toe because of the mosquitos and biting flies, which were not very repelled by the DEET. They were on a mission.
Darren recently passed his PE exam in civil engineering, and held a get-together in celebration. So John and I drove out there in the van with all three dogs. Afterwards, Darren accompanied us on a backpacking trip in the Sawtooth Wilderness.
The 2-day drive out there was tiring. It’s a long way! We were towing a U-haul trailer behind the van, full of furniture for Darren. Everything is more of a nuisance when dragging a trailer.
Here’s a photo of a multi-vehicle accident involving 2 passenger cars and 5 or 6 pickup trucks with trailers. That ratio seemed fairly representative of what was on the road. There were a lot of trailers out; it seemed like every second vehicle was towing something.
I didn’t see anything that looked very serious (I hope), but what a nuisance; trailers askew, loads shifted or dropped, some truck-body damage. I hope the horses were ok (and people too of course, but I think they were). I was worried about the one little car that seemed to sustain the most damage. We had high headwinds and crosswinds, and I’m guessing someone’s trailer swerved a bit too much and caused a chain reaction.
We were lucky not to be in that ourselves, but by the time we got to our hotel in Utah we were wiped out. First we had to feed and walk the dogs, and we didn’t even get our own dinner ordered until bedtime. Then the hotel restaurant was having some sort of cook-walked-out fiasco and it took over an hour to get our food.
At some point John called down and canceled our order and went to bed, not realizing that I was sitting down in the restaurant waiting for it (I had walked out on him after a fight). What a mess. It’s always a disaster when we drive too long, and in the future we’re going to have to stop earlier, even if we don’t make it as far as planned.
The next day we made it to Boise plenty early. John was anxious to get the trailer unloaded and returned, plus, we weren’t able to park our van and trailer on the street in front of our Airbnb because there wasn’t room. The Airbnb was in one of those cute old neighborhoods with very limited garage and parking space, and the street in front of our Airbnb was parked full.
We parked on the street in front of the neighboring house, but the older couple who lived there were being protective of “their” property and asked us to move. Even though they didn’t OWN the street parking. But meanwhile they had blocked us in. It was actually a bit tricky to try to explain to the very old, old guy that if he would please move his vehicle so we could get out, we would leave immediately.
Since we had nowhere to park, we went straight to Darren’s house to unload. Darren didn’t realize we planned to unload that soon and wasn’t planning on being there, which is how we ended up unloading with the help of my ex-husband, his wife, and one of Darren’s roommates. One big happy family.
That night Laura flew in, and stayed with us at the Airbnb. It was actually a great spot for us (despite the lack of street parking). It had two bedrooms, a nicely remodeled kitchen and two surprisingly large bathrooms, and a great little backyard. Best of all was the doggie door!
I forgot to take pictures, but here’s a photo from the internet of our Airbnb. It’s more than 100 years old.
The party the next day was a challenge. I’m never good in large groups, especially large groups of strangers. Or more accurately, large groups of strangers plus ex-in-laws. And I didn’t feel like I could just go hide in a corner somewhere because I wanted to support Darren. His hosting skills are iffy, so I was trying to help him by playing hostess, but my hostessing skills are iffy too.
I kept trying to make small talk and tell funny stories, but I just wasn’t resonating with the crowd. I did great with his two roommates (whom I like very much), but otherwise I basically bombed. Darren and his dad’s side of the family are all religious. He had some friends from church there, and some (apparently) religious coworkers as well.
I tried to be respectful, but I don’t know the culture. For example, I was telling a dog story (which I thought was funny), but I used the word “shit” a few times (in reference to dog poop), and that did not go over well. In my defense, I wasn’t using the word as an expletive, I just thought that “shit” and “poo” were roughly synonymous, particularly in regards to dogs. Apparently not!
Darren had the party hours scheduled for the entire day, and I didn’t even think to take any pictures the whole day – that’s how stressed I was! I was glad when we eventually got home to our little Airbnb.
But I don’t have any regrets. I really think get-togethers are important. I get stressed at my own parties too, but I still have them. Community and friends are important. We have some old friends in Albuquerque whom we haven’t seen in forever, and we hope to have them over before the summer is out.
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