Long-distance relationship


I was flashed today.

It happened as I pulled back the curtains on my hotel room window. I was startled to find  a set of  voluptuous mountains popping out of the horizon. I stared, speechless. The rocky mounds flanked by swaying palms shimmied like some kind of hula dancer performing a show only I could understand.

Yesterday, outside the hotel I found a gathering of well-muscled, phallic cacti strutting around in the rock gardens. I could almost swear one of them whispered something dirty to me.

I’m nine years into a marriage. But I get weak in the knees when warm sun begins to massage my winterized flesh and achy blue sky winks at me wherever I turn. How can a girl stay faithful to her northern roots?

These trips out west, they’re almost like porn.

This latest tryst finds me pulling back the covers on a part-time lover named Arizona. He moves around a lot, changes his name. Sometimes he’s New Mexico, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming or Montana. Always though, when we reunite, I melt into his broad shoulders, inhale his sage-scented coat of many colors and whisper promises of “someday.”

The torch was lighted in my childhood on a road trip to the Badlands and Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, and Devil’s Tower Monument in Wyoming. Throughout my youth, my family covered many miles of road stretching to all points on the compass. But it was the western sojourn that lodged itself in my psyche. Thirty some years later, the grip has not loosened.

It begs the question: Why haven’t I left Michigan? Can’t I divorce this Great Lakes relationship and run away with my Western lover?

The answer is always the same: The time is not yet right. I’ve had offers. I’ve had chances. But, I’m needed here — for now. I’m slowly preparing for my departure, saying my good-byes, biding my time.

Until then, I get my thrills any way I can.


Last Vegas post, I promise

Can you tell I don’t get out much? Our trip to Las Vegas last week was the first time I’d taken a plane anywhere in two years. Sure, I’ve had plenty of little driving trips to regional cities and I’ve headed out to the woods for camping. But since Girl from the East came along, I’ve been a bit of a homebody.
So, take that into consideration with this post. Oh, and the fact that I found a puppy on the street in Las Vegas, which I have named NaBloPoMo.
This yapping, wiggly ball of fuzz seemed so cute and irresistible on Oct. 31. But when I woke up on Nov. 1 to his persistent demands of Post! Post! Post! I worried that I’d made a snap decision. Will I still want my little NaBloPoMo on Nov. 30?
I hope some pictures will calm him for a day.

So, in review, here is where we stayed, day view:

It’s even prettier at night:

I love the palm trees and the pink buildings:

I’m not sure what this is.

But it promised this:

As near as I could tell, it was some kind of human car wash experience. I lurked a bit to see if anyone would get into these pods. But no one did. Hmm…ideas anyone?

So, this ends my talk of Las Vegas, pictures of Las Vegas and any other reference to that city in Nevada. I now have 27 more days to go in which I must think of 27 non-Las Vegas things to write about.