Teku

We didn't do much for Easter, just lolled around snacking and dozing, then fixed steaks, fresh asparagus, and sweet potatoes (not with marshmallows, uck, just plain) for supper. I look forward to reading more about the antics of the denizens of the Rialto.

Like frozen fireworks the red and yellow bromeliad thrust its fleshy leaves outward from the center of the plant. The merest glisten of the pre-dawn rain shone in the center cup like life-giving blood. All around, as far as Mona could see in every direction, was dry ochre ground, crumbly rock, and cactus. Only this one plant held out the hope that there might be life surviving in this place. Mona cursed the impulse that had pulled her out of bed at dawn and convinced her to drive into the park to watch the sunrise away from civilization. She had felt brave, even intrepid, as she dressed in cotton khaki slacks, a navy tank, and her never-worn hiking shoes. Taking pride in not being a complete fool she stopped in the shadowy kitchen to fill a couple of two-liter bottles with water and tucked them in her backpack with a tangerine or two, just in case. Be prepared, her Boy Scout dad would intone as he slid his official BSA jackknife into his pocket. She had tried, Dad, she really had. Knowing she wasn't in too much danger of being lost on the only road through the park across the old plantation, she drove boldly into the silver light of dawn. The muffled pop of the right front tire brought her to a stop. The discovery that some opportunist had made off with the jack and lug wrench from behind the seat left her in tears. But tears of frustration, only frustration, she told herself as she jammed her boonie hat down on her head, pullout out a tangerine and bottle of water, and sat in the shade of the truck to wait for the first Good Samaritan to come along.

I spoke with Jenny on Saturday afternoon, Bob. Neither she nor her brother or sister-in-law were able to get her out to Seattle sooner than Sat. midnight or delay her return so she'd have the same number of days as she originally planned. She had passed the jaw-clenching frustration of Thursday night and was deep into philosophical acceptance. She'll be back Wed. night and be at writer's on Thursday.

It snowed again. Bah. I'm not shoveling.

--Barbara