Suzanne is here in Tucson to work on a secret public education project, which is so confidential she can’t tell me about it. If I ask about the particulars, I get the standard, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Yup, her job here is that kind of confidential. Apparently, I don’t have a high enough security clearance.
Poor Suzanne is working 12-hour days, and I get to doodle around being a no-schedule, go-where-I-want, solo tourist. I feel kinda guilty about the situation. I try not to brag to Suzanne about the interesting places I’ve been and what fantastic things I did while I was there, but she asks. And I tell. It’s fortunate she likes her work, and it’s a bonus for me that I get to tag along to places I wouldn’t necessarily travel otherwise.
I’m realizing that Suzanne likes that I can travel and enjoy myself. My Hanky Panky (evil pancreas) pestered me bigly for a couple of decades, and I just wanted to hang close to home. Since my operation last summer, I feel freer. I feel better. I’ve still got one-third of a pancreas– which works. The other two-defective-thirds is somewhere in a biohazard waste dump, which is exactly where it belongs. Sometimes, having less of something is a life-enhancing solution. Out with the bad. On with the effective and painless. I’m glad Suzanne pestered me to be gutted. Now I can be a stowaway, wherever she does her super-secret work.
Today, I followed Bow Tie o’ the Day’s arrows to Saguaro National Park. CacTie, cacTie, cacTie. My rental truck is a Chevy Silverado, which looks like it could be my red 1998 Hombre on steroids. My beat-up Hombre can’t last forever, so I’m treating my vacay driving as long test drives for when the day finally comes I’ll be in the market for a fresh jalopy. I have named the cactus sharing the photo with the Silverado “If It Looks Like A Tall Duck, It’s A Cactus.”
When I initially looked up the mountainsides as I traversed the Bajada Loop trail, I thought, “Look at all that asparagus!” I knew I was seeing cactTIE, But they kept resembling asparagus to me– especially the farther away they were. In the desert valley where I was born, I was raised to see asparagus growing on a dirt ditch bank from six acres away. It’s a skill I don’t have much use for, but I still claim to be an expert at spying the stuff.
And finally, I hereby admit to something I do when I travel. You see those two bow ties sitting in a cactus? When I travel, I always bring along a couple of “stunt” bow ties. I no longer perform all the death-defying and/or painful antics for these posts. When I can, I leave that danger to my stunt neckwear. Sit on cactus needles? I’ll pass. I have stunt bow ties for that. They never complain. They can handle the wear-and-tear better than my old bones can. I pay them well, and provide them with health insurance. Plus, they make me feel like I’m with friends. I’m not completely alone on my treks through new landscapes. I and my stunt bow ties have a raucous, wild time.
FYI A bow tie qualifies to be a “stunt” bow tie if it is a duplicate of one I already have, or if it is deformed or falling apart in some way. Just thought you’d like to know.