Day 5 - One Good Shepherd Meets Another

Sunday morning found me having breakfast alone, just like I did when I first arrived to Cave Creek 5 days ago. I cannot remember what I had for breakfast except of the usual coffee and bacon and a wonderful serving of fresh berries.

That is the nice thing about being in Arizona. Fresh berries are available all year round. I could not get my fill of fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

The raspberries were the best. So plump and flavorful! They never looked and tasted that good back home.

After another one of Carolyn's typical belly-busting breakfasts, it was time to get ready for church.

Oh! I had such a big urge to play "hookie" from church. As much as spirituality is a big part of my life, I can still be a lazy bones.

But I could not play "hookie." In fact, the church was expecting me. And not only that, my church back home was expecting a report from me on the Arizona church.

You see, long before coming to Arizona, I went on-line to find out the location of an Episcopalian church in the Cave Creek area. And low and behold! I found one indeed. Not only that, it was a Good Shepherd church like my own.

I go to the Church of the Good Shepherd in Fairhaven, MA. And this church in Cave Creek is called Good Shepherd of the Hills.

Now what would be the chances of me finding another Good Shepherd church in the same town where I will be staying? Pretty slim, I think.

"Good Shepherd" is a popular church name. There are about 100 different Good Shepherd churches out of the thousands of Episcopalian parishes in the United States.

Now there are about 7 Good Shepherd churches in the rather small state of Massachusetts. Yet in the much larger state of Arizona, there are only 2 Good Shepherd churches.

So, the chances of me finding a church in Arizona bearing the same name as my own church on the opposite coast were pretty slim.

Excited that the church in Cave Creek was also a Good Shepherd church, I contacted that church about a month before I was due to leave for Arizona. Not wishing to be a passive church visitor, I took it upon myself to serve as my church's ambassador to Cave Creek's Good Shepherd of the Hills.

I had originally planned just to bring my church's welcoming packet. But then I decided upon a more ambitious project. And not only that, I was going to get my church involved in its creation.

I decided to present to Good Shepherd of the Hills something that would show what Good Shepherd in Fairhaven was all about.

Thus, I was going to create a mini-album that had photos of my church, its people, and important events. I was also going to include a history of the church, along with a copy of a newspaper article about our church's centennial celebration.

I got the whole church involved in a photo shoot 2 Sundays before I left for Arizona.

Between that Sunday and the next, I assembled the mini-album despite all the difficulties and set-backs that popped up.

The following Sunday, I brought the mini-album to church for all to see, and for people to sign their names and write their well wishes in the back of the book.

Everybody loved the book and wanted a copy for our church to have. Some even thought that such a book would make a great fund-raiser. (Looks like I'm going to have my work cut out for me!)

And now, that little hand-bound book was sitting on my bed wrapped in teal and chartreuse tissue paper and tucked into a bright magenta gift bag.

It was time to gather my humble gift and drive down to the church.

Parking my car I beheld Good Shepherd of the Hills. The beautiful adobe structure was not like the structures of the churches back home.

I got out of my car and took my time, slowly walking up the driveway to the front of the church. A woman was preparing to get out of her car. And so I waited until she did before I went up to introduce myself and ask her where I need to go to find Nicole or Marilyn, the 2 women who responded to my emails.

The older woman, whom I later found out was the organist, led me to the right of the main entrance through the gate

and across the courtyard, into the church hall, and to the church office, where I was introduced to Nicole.

Nicole welcomed me and gave me 2 copies of The History of Good Shepherd of the Hills Episcopal Church for me to bring back home.

She also gave a bottle of cold water. Handing out bottles of water was one of the church's outreach efforts. On each bottle the label bore the image of the church, its address, and contact information. Pretty cool! (Our sextant back home went nuts over the bottled water outreach idea.)

Next Nicole brought me into the church itself to show me around. There were only a small handful of parishioners present because it was still a bit too early for service.

Nicole brought me to a pink sitting room that had the church's prized stained glass window of the Good Shepherd.

She then left me to find my pew. I already found the visitor information cards and name tags. I filled out the card and dutifully affixed the name tag to my top.

A few minutes later, Father Glenn B. Jenks came up to me to introduce himself and explain the procedure for visitor introductions, which take place at the end of the service.

I was to give the filled out visitor information card to the person next to me, and that person was supposed to introduce me. However, there was no one sitting next me ~ at least not yet. So Fr. Glenn kindly handed the card to a fellow sitting behind me and asked him to do the honors.

The church was filling up. This may be "the little church with the big heart," it was much bigger than my church. Perhaps Arizonans have a different concept of what's little, just like they seem to have a different concept of what's "just a little ways up the road."

Being the ever observant (i.e., nosy) one, I noticed that this crowd dressed rather well, not like my humble parish, which has a very casual, "come as you are" feel to it. I noted with wry amusement the only time you would see my flock dressing that nicely was when the bishop was coming for a visit.

Still, the nice style of dress did not diminish in the least the warm welcome the people in this church have shown me. Nor did it diminish the very strong presence of the Holy Spirit.

Now it was time for the service to start. I was anxious to note the similarities and differences between our 2 churches.

For starters, the Cave Creek church was about 3 times the size of the Fairhaven church, both in building space and attendance. When singing, the voice of that many people easily filled the walls of the church.

The organist wore a robe and was behind the rail, to the left of the altar.

There were 2 priests and one deacon celebrating the Eucharist. At my church, you would not see that many clergy officiating unless the bishop was visiting or there was a special occasion.

What surprised me was the small wireless headsets worn by the priests. You'd never need something like that back at the home church! (In fact, when it's my turn to read, people in the back row can hear me, even over the crying babies.)

In my church there are 3 people in the Gospel procession ~ the cross-bearer, the Gospel-bearer, and the priest. At this church, there were only 2 people ~ the deacon who served both as cross-bearer and Gospel-bearer by processing up the aisle holding the Gospel aloft followed, and the priest who followed.

Following the Good News, Fr. Glenn's sermon started off with an awakening punch.

He said that while he knew that Christ came to save the world, he often wondered from what was Christ trying to save us. And the provocative answer that he arrived at was "religion."

Christ came to save the world from religion. Thus started a very thoughtful sermon on good religion and bad religion. (How I wish I asked for a copy to share with my church!)

When the Eucharist was celebrated, I observed that the vessels were pottery ~ very fitting for this area of the country.

Unlike my church, which has its announcements just before the offertory, this church has them at the end of the service, which is also when visitor introductions are made.

At the end of the service, before introductions were made, a couple got up to speak of their most recent mission experiences at the Bullrushes Babies' Home in Kampala, Uganda.

The tales of babies being thrown out in the trash were heart-breaking. Bullrushes was one place that would rescue these cast-off and extremely sickly babies and nurse them back to health. It's tragic how the AIDS epidemic and civil unrest have affected the little babies.

(Fortunately, the Watoto Mission has stepped in to give these parentless babies and children a fighting chance by placing them with loving and nurturing families in the hopes of raising Uganda's next generation of leaders.)

The couple also had many photos of their mission to share with their fellow parishioners in the church hall during fellowship.

Next came the visitor introductions. There were just 2 of us ~ me and a fellow named Scott from Surprise, AZ.

After the service, most of the church exited through the side door in the right wing, and through the courtyard for fellowship.

The table way in the rear, on the right, displays the photos from Kampala.

What a big and nice looking church hall. And the fellowship munchies were pretty good ~ cheese, crackers, and HUGE juicy strawberries. (God! It would be worth it to move down to Arizona just for the fresh and juicy year-round berries!)

I loved this beautiful gold cross.

Anyhow, I still had my gift bag in hand and needed to find Fr. Glenn to ask him how I could best present my gift to the church.

Fr. Glenn took control of the matter and made an announcement about my gift.

Just like my church back home loved the mini-album, it was a BIG hit at this church. Everybody was oohing and ahhing over it, saying how much it would be a great idea to have such books about their church for parishioners to bring with them when they travel.

(Do you think I could have started a new church trend with this humble gift?)

What also surprised me was that everyone went nuts over the welcoming packet from our church ~ the one the diocese puts out. I would have never thought that something like that would elicit such an enthusiastic response. Maybe it's because I see these packets every time I walk into church.

I had a pleasant chat with Fr. Glenn. He seemed intrigued with my camera, a Nikon D-80, which I am still learning how to use. Fr. Glenn had me follow him into his office where he gave me a separate business card. It appears that Fr. Glenn is also a photographer besides being a priest (and a lawyer).

After chatting with Fr. Glenn, I wanted to go back into the church so that I could take some pictures of the inside. Unfortunately, both the side and front doors were locked.

However, Nicole was more than happy to accommodate me.

Grabbing a key, we once more crossed the courtyard to the side door, which Nicole unlocked. Not only that, she was kind enough to put on the lights and let me have the run of the church.

This is what visitors see when they first walk through the doors of Good Shepherd of the Hills. Off to the right is a wing that seats even more people.

Here's a closer shot of the altar.

From the altar, looking towards the rear of the church, you can see the choir loft. Nicole says that it's a favorite with the kids. I can see why. I know that in my parents' church the choir loft held a special attraction for me, perhaps even more so because it was verboten to anyone but those in the choir.

So, I definitely had to go and check out the choir loft.

I climbed the stairs and opened the door to what I thought was the entrance to the choir loft.

Wrong!

Those doors led me out onto a balcony instead.

OK, so how do I get to the choir loft?

Apparently I had to go through a set of double doors that I saw on the balcony. Those doors led to the choir loft. What an odd way to get to the choir loft.

Looking down from the choir loft, you can see the rest of the church, including part of the right wing.

On the ground floor, you have a better view of that wing. It goes a bit ways back.

As I was leaving the church, I noticed these candles with the Good Shepherd statue in the right wing. It was really nice seeing that for it reminded me of the things that I liked about my original Roman Catholic up-bringing.

Upon leaving the church through the right wing side door, I was once more in the courtyard.

Glancing up, I noticed a hill behind the church hall that had saguaro cacti growing on it. Of course I had to take a picture. It's funny how the foreshorthening in the picture makes it look as though there's a cactus garden growing on the roof of the church hall.

Taking all the pictures I was going to take, I went back into the church hall, which now had been considerably emptied of the many people that it held just minutes before.

I said my thanks and made my good-byes.

Now it was time to shift gears from the sublime to the ridiculous and go next door to the Horny Toad to purchase the bracelet I coveted the day before.

Day 4 - Boot Camp Graduation

It was a typical sunny and warm Arizona morning.

And today was the last day of our CorelDRAW 3X Boot Camp.

The 3 Arkansas girls left before lunch.

So all that was left was Gary from El Paso, Jodi from Vancouver, Edie from Boulder, and yours truly.

And we cannot forget Freckles, Foster's dog. She was as much a part of our class as anyone else.

After another very filling lunch, it was time to return to the darken classroom for even more information overload. By the time we were done, all of our brains were numb.

It was hard to believe that we covered over 200 pages of material in just 3 days. Surprising our brains had any more room left.

But for all of our hard work, we each got a certificate of completion and this nifty tee shirt. At least it didn't say, "My parents went to Arizona and all I got was this stupid tee shirt."

So now we're all official boot camp survivors!

With numbed out brains, we said our thanks and good-byes, and went on our way, probably never to cross paths again.

Once back at the B & B, Gary reminded me of the favor I asked him to do ~ to take a picture of me holding "The Wanderer," my town's weekly journal.

("The Wanderer" has a tradition where it posts pictures of Tri-Towners holding up an issue of the journal wherever they travel. So if you live in the Tri-Town area and are planning a trip or vacation , you must remember to pack an issue of "The Wanderer" with you!)

Just what my poor, over-loaded brain needed ~ physical exercise.

Gary and I took a brief walk up School House Road, this time heading towards the main drag instead of the opposite direction when I was in quest for that "JAVELINA X-ING" sign. It was just a brief walk to the other side of the Desert Foot Hills Library, which stood next to the Spur Cross B & B.

Here's "Gumby," the saguaro that I first noticed on Wednesday, on my early morning hike behind the B & B.

Here's Gary in front of this tall, multiple-armed saguaro. I wonder how old that baby is.

Seeing that I'm a big saguaro nut, Gary took several pictures of me in front this saguaro in particular.

After weeding through all the pictures of me in front of cacti as tall as trees, this is the one Ariana thought should go into "The Wanderer."

You know, that multiple-arm saguaro was truly amazing. Even Gary had to take some pictures of it.

Here's a better view of it.

Having gotten our vanity shots, it was time to mosey on back to the ranch and rustle up some grub.

But first we had to go across the road and take some more pictures of the mountains.

It's hard to believe that with scenery like this, the Spur Cross Bed & Breakfast is considered part of Cave Creek's downtown proper.

The main drag ~ Cave Creek Road ~ is just about a quarter to half a mile up the road from the B & B. With a bank and post office on the corner, that's where all the action is.

Gary and I decided to go out to dinner together this time. This was to be his last night in Cave Creek before his early morning departure the next day.

Now came the fun of trying to decide where to eat. I have really wanted to get a taste of rattlesnake just so I could say, when I got home, "I ate rattlesnake in Arizona."

Unfortunately, I came a month or two too early for rattlesnake to be on anyone's menu. Apparently, the time to get rattlesnake is in October and November, when they are nice and fat.

There was a possibility that I could probably get some rattlesnake at Cartwright's, which served all sorts of game. But the great uncertainty of me being able to find such an item on the menu led me to defer to Gary for picking the eating spot.

Because Gary really enjoyed his first meal in Arizona at the Horny Toad, that's where he decided he would like to eat. I had no problem with that. Had I been in Cave Creek much longer than my allotted time, I would have most likely wanted to try out that place.

"Are you driving?"

"Yes."

"Oh good! That means I can have a margarita or two!"

It's been awhile since I had a nice frosty top-shelf Grande Marnier margarita. And after having my brain numbed out from information overload, why not make it "official?"

After Gary parked the car, we walked by this HUGE prickly pear cactus on the away to the Horny Toad entrance. That sucker was enormous! It must have at least 4 or 5 feet taller than me. Maybe more.

When we got seated, Gary ordered a "Colorado Kool-Aid" (Coors) while I ordered a margarita.

I asked if they had Patron Silver. Yes they did. So I ordered it with that. (I never had Patron Silver before, but I heard it was really good stuff.)

I then ordered a cup of chili, which was OK, and an order of beef ribs. Gary ordered the meat loaf.

Meat loaf? That sounds something my sister would order. I have nothing against meat loaf. In fact, I enjoy a really good meat loaf. But like chicken, that's not one of the foods that I order when I eat out.

But why order at a restaurant something that you normally can get at home? For me, restaurants are places of culinary adventure where you can try new things.

They're also places where someone else does all the cooking, serving, and cleaning up. Oh! I can never say too much about how much I love eating out!

Our food had arrived ~ Gary's humble meat loaf and my giant platter of Fred Flintstone, dinosaur bone beef ribs.

Gary wasn't all that thrilled with his meat loaf. But I was going nuts over the ribs.

They weren't like the beef ribs I find in this area. In fact, it's not too easy to find beef ribs where I live. The only ribs that you can get anywhere around home are those mamby-pamby baby-back ribs. Oh sure, baby-backs are great. But they simply can't compare to a nice and savory beef rib.

And the added bonus is that my dogs can enjoy the bones afterwards. They can't do that with pork ribs. (Actually, my dogs could. It's just that I won't let them have pork bones ~ period.)

Oh! and what wonderful ribs they were ~ loaded with lots of meat. I've never seen beef ribs this meaty back home. Usually the ones I get here ~ when I can find them ~ are loaded with gobs of fat.

And while digging in, I ordered another margarita.

Both Gary and I could not finish our meals, but for different reasons. Gary wasn't enjoying his meal while I was enjoying mine too much. My stomach could not handle all that gastronomical pleasure all at once. Also, my still painful Bozo lips where not being very cooperative.

So while Gary opted not to take his meal back (besides it wouldn't have made sense with his having to catch a plane the next morning), I had mine wrapped up.

Now came time for the bill. I was all set to pay my own way when Gary insisted that he would pay it. He would have me leave the tip.

When I looked at the bill so that I could calculate the tip, my jaw dropped to see that both of my margaritas came out to $23! I guess that Patron Silver is really top-shelf stuff.

Seeing that my 2 drinks cost more than my meal, I asked Gary if he was sure that he wanted to pay for my meal. I just didn't think it was right. But he insisted.

Paying the bill, we walked a few steps over to check out the Horny Toad gift shop. It was just us and the shopkeeper, Bill, who was a pleasant fellow.

Gary was interested in the kachinas and ironwood figures. I liked the whimsically painted wood carvings from Oaxaca. And my eye especially travelled to the jewelry case and landed on a gorgeous Navajo silver and green turquoise cuff bracelet.

I fell in love with that bracelet! The silver work was exquisite. And the stone was just the right color to complement my complexion.

Most turquoise is a bright blue. It's a pretty color. But somehow it doesn't look quite right against my skin. But the green turquoise ~ now there's a color that my skin likes.

The color of the stone is determined by the amounts of copper and iron. The more copper it has, the more blue the stone. Likewise, the more iron present, the more green the stone.

I also learned from Bill that some Navajo silversmiths are a suspicious lot who believe that when a person dies, he or she has has to be buried with all his or her jewelry. And for an artisan, who has a part of himself go into each piece he makes, that's a lot of jewelry to to try to locate, let alone be buried with.

So to avoid any disasters or unpleasant consequences in the after life, many Navajo silversmiths will not stamp their work, or only stamp just part of their name.

The bracelet that I coveted was stamped with a single "R."

I would have bought the bracelet right on the spot had I realized that I had the money with me. But seeing that I forgot I had some extra bills tucked away out of sight in my check book, I had to wait until the next day.

Since the next day was Sunday, the store would be opening at noon ~ just in time for me to stop by after attending the church that was right next door to the Horny Toad.

With just my left-overs in hand, we returned to the Spur Cross B & B.

Gary had to pack for an early flight back to El Paso. And I had my journal to record another day of my Arizona adventures.

"House & Garden," Anyone?

As you may guessed from the title, this blog focuses on Foster's house.

When you go down Rancho Mañana Road and turn left onto La Canoa Road (where Foster's house sits left on the corner), this is what you first notice ~ a dead-end road leading right to your own personal mountain.

This little fellow was sitting just behind the recycling-trash dumpster, under which I would see little lizards scurry.

Rabbits aren't the only wild life found in this swanky neighborhood. Rattlesnakes, too, like to visit, as Foster can tell you about the day he found a rattlesnake right at his front door.

So how do folks over there persuade these noxious beasts to relocate? Why with a snake stick, of course. Hey, didn't you know that?

Here's the front of Foster's house. The swimming pool is just beyond the fence to your right.

Here's another view of the front. This is what you see when you're coming around to park in Foster's front yard. See that red car on the right? That's my crappy Ford Focus.

Now that we're on the other side of the fence, you can see what the yard looks like.

Here's the back of Foster's house, over-looking the pool. I could not fit the entire house in one picture frame. The house is an L-shape, and I was not able to get a clear shot of the entire house.

OK, I think we already have an idea of what the back of his house looks like. But wait. Isn't that a saguaro cactus on the right?

No. It's an ornamental fake. In fact, that fake cactus is part of the pool-side lighting. There are supposed to be lights on top of the cactus where the fake blossoms are. And I think there are tiny lights inside.

Here's a view of the yard. Get a load of those clouds! Sunset is only about an hour away.

Here's the same view but from a different angle. Now you can see the little foot of the L-shape.

There's a set of glass sliding doors in that little foot. That's where we had to go through to get to class, which was located in that right hand block of the building, right where the toes of the little foot should be.

That sliding door is like no other I've ever seen. First of all, the handle is about eye-level, if you happen to be 5' 6". The handle is easy enough to turn, but try opening the door.

It takes monstrous strength to open the door and then keep it open so that you could pass through without chopping off any of your limbs.

Never having been privileged enough to own a swimming pool, I never knew that this was a safety feature used to avoid having young children get to the pool and drown.

For that matter, that's also probably why the latch to the gate leading into the backyard is way on top of the gate.

Had I had a pool of my own, I probably would have known all of this stuff without sounding like the bumpkin that I was.

And by the way, have you noticed those gorgeous Arizona clouds as well?

Take a look at Foster's Pool. Doesn't it look like something out of one of those fancy-schmancy home and garden magazines?

See that hole in the rocks above the right edge of the pool? That's the water slide.

You wanna know something else? At night time there are tiny lights that change colors in the waterfall. Cool!

And see what looks like 3 stones in the water at the upper left edge of the pool? Those are bar stools. Just over the other side of the pool's wall is a depression where the bartender stands to serve you your drinks while you're relaxing in the pool.

(Now if somebody would invent a pool where you don't have to step out to go and pee!)

That circular thing to the right above the pool is not a mini Jacuzzi to massage your poor tired feet after a hard day of work. It's a fire pit.

The Jacuzzi is the bigger circular thing on the side of the pool opposite from the fire pit.

Looks like Gary is having the same idea taking pictures of Foster's crib.

Here's a better look at that fake saguaro cactus pool-side lighting.

And here's the real deal on the other side of the fence behind Foster's pool. See those holes there? They are nests belonging to a number of possible birds such as the Gila Woodpecker, Gilded Flicker, Elf Owl, and Cactus Wren, which is also Arizona's State Bird.

Anyhow, tonight's party was going to be a small crowd.

The 3 girls from Arkansas decided not to come because they wanted to get more shopping done. And I don't mean souvenier shopping either. Would you believe they wanted to do mall shopping at stores like Old Navy?

Give me a break! Who would come to Arizona to go shopping at the same stores they have at home? Sounds a bit backwards to me.

So, for a crowd we had our host Foster, Carolyn from the B & B who served as chef, Gary from Texas, Edie from Boulder, Jodi from Vancouver, Foster's dog Freckles, and yours truly.

The food was really awesome, though my stomach could not put away as much as my taste buds wanted. (Plus, it still hurt quite a bit to eat.)

Nobody was interested in swimming.

"Aw come on! Nobody wants to go swimming?" Poor Foster. He probably didn't want to be the only one taking a dip.

As much as I enjoy swimming, I really did not feel like getting into my swim suit and then have to deal w/trying to find a discreet place for my clothes and underwear.

Later that evening we met Jeanette, Foster's girlfriend. What a sweet and personable thing.

Around 8 or so, people started leaving. And seeing that I still had some vino left in my cup, I wound up closing up the shop. Gee, why does that always happen to me?

Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I quickly finished up what little was left in my cup and followed the others out about 5 to 10 minutes after they left. I left the Chianti that I brought for Foster and Jeanette to enjoy.

It was time for me to go to bed anyhow.

Day 4 - JAVELINA X-ING

It was Friday, and once again I woke up with the nasty, painful, and crusty Bozo lips. This time I wrapped some ice cubes in a face cloth to use for a compress.

The ice cubes had almost melted completely by the time I was done with my morning prayers, and yet my lips did not fare much better. I will have to ask Carolyn where I could find the nearest pharmacy.

As usual, Carolyn had treated Gary and me to another gut-busting breakfast that neither one of us was supposed to have finished.

In the meantime, I asked Carolyn for directions to the nearest pharmacy. She said that there was CVS (You mean they have them there, too?!) just a bit of a way down the road past where I would turn off to get to Foster's.

So, I decided to leave a little bit early so that I could find that CVS and perhaps have a pharmacist suggest what I should do. I really did not relish the idea of having to go to the emergency room.

But first, I had to stop at the post office just down the road to mail my post cards and to get some stamps for my international post cards.

It was easy to mail the postcards, but the window was nowhere to be found. All I could see in the lobby was a rolled-down door where the window should have been. I asked the clerk, who was collecting the mail from the outside mail box and raising the flag on the pole, what time the window opened.

9 o'clock.

That's the same time my class starts.

Oh well, let's be off and find that CVS. I drive by the Rancho Mañana Road that I need to take to Foster's and keep on going. I pass the town hall and then the fire station. Soon, I'm out in the middle of nowhere with no CVS in sight.

Hmmm. I guess folks in Arizona have a different definition for "a little ways down the road."

Not sure how much farther I would have to travel to get to that blasted CVS, and not wanting to be late for class, I turn around and head to Foster's. I could always go there after class.

Today's class was on bit-map editing. There was SO much information being thrown at us today. And the pace increased even more after our lunch break. I think that by the time we done, everyone was dazed from information over-load.

Later that evening there was to be the big boot camp cook-out at Foster's. We could stick around and swim in his pool or return at 6 o'clock. Everyone opted to leave.

It was just as well. I high-tailed it back in the direction of CVS. And after driving through the middle of nowhere, I did indeed find it at an intersection with traffic lights.

I asked the pharmacist for her recommendations. She said that my affliction looked like one big massive cold sore. Well, I had cold sore before, and they never felt and behaved like this mess on my lips.

Anyhow, the pharmacist recommended an oral analgesic with 20% benzocain for the pain, a soft sun-blocking salve with no alcohol to keep my lips moist, and an over-the-counter pain-killer to bring down the swelling.

In the meantime, I noticed something in this CVS that I had never noticed in any other CVS. Booze! Yes, this CVS sold beer, wine, and hard liquor. I couldn't believe it. Anyhow, I bought a bottle of Chianti to bring to the party just so I could say that I bought booze at CVS.

But should I really be surprised that this CVS sold alcohol? After all, I discovered that in Arizona, one can buy alcohol at gas stations. What a concept ~ get gassed while you gas up.

Allowing gas stations to sell booze really doesn't seem to be the bright thing to do in a state that has serious problems with drunken driving. And had I stayed longer in Arizona, I suppose that I would have discovered even more stupid things to add to the list.

Well, I was done with CVS, and I actually had enough time to swing by the post office to get stamps for the post cards that are going to Canada, England, and New Zealand.

Now to go back and decompress from today's information over-load before returning to Foster's house.

I guess that by the time I got back to the B & B, I changed my plans about decompressing for awhile. Instead, I roped Gary into accompanying me for a walk up the road so that I could take a picture of that "JAVELINA X-ING" sign that I saw a couple of days ago.

Actually Gary was very nice and accommodating about indulging my crazy wish for a walk. And he was quite the gentleman making sure that I stay off to the side of the road and out of harm's way from the sporadic on-coming traffic. (I guess with a lot of the summer people back home taking up the entire road as they walked, that careless habit must have rubbed off a bit on me, too.)

Figuring that it was going to be a short walk to the javelina sign, I didn't think to put on my hiking boots. I figured the red cowboy boots that I brought with me should get some use and that they would be good enough for that short walk. Besides, this time I remembered to wear my boonie hat.

Wrong again.

That javelina sign was much farther than I thought. Judging from the time it took for us to get there, it must have been a mile and a half. And it was not an easy walk either.

There was no such thing as totally flat and shaded pavement here. While the incline was nowhere near as brutal as the ones on Saguaro Hill and the ruins, there was just enough of an incline in this hot and shade-free climate for me to feel a little bit more than an easy moderate level of exertion.

In order for us to get off the road, we found a rocky path that ran parallel to the road. However, it would have been nice if the path were as straight and level as the road, because all those little dips and curves must have certainly put on more mileage on my boots than if we were to continue walking on the road.

Finally after all that sweating and huffing and puffing (at least on my part, because a Texas boy like Gary is already used to this kind of climate), we finally reached our destination.

Finally after all that sweating and huffing and puffing (at least on my part, because a Texas boy like Gary is already used to this kind of climate), we finally reached our destination.

Now was time to pause and take pictures. Even Gary took pictures because he had never seen a "JAVELINA X-ING" sign before, even though he has seen plenty of javelinas where he lives.

I got a kick out of the red reflector stuck on the javelina's nose. While I had seen plenty of such mischief on the "DEER X-ING" signs back home, I would have never expected such treatment of a "JAVELINA X-ING" sign.

After all, it makes sense with deer, seeing that everybody knows about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. But what have we here? Ramirez the Red-Nosed Javelina? Doesn't make for the best of alliterations when we're using javelinas instead of reindeer.

Having accomplished our mission, it was now time to turn around and make that long, hot walk back to the B & B. While walking, I could not help but notice these coyote tracks in the dirt. They had to be coyote tracks because all the time I was there I never saw a dog, or cat, wandering around.

But is that all surprising in a land where it's hot and there's plenty of coyotes and rattlesnakes?

One of the things that I found out was that pets here have to be snake-proofed.

Now what in God's name is snake-proofing? I certainly didn't know, so I had to ask.

Snake-proofing takes place with aversive conditioning. A shock collar is put around a pet's neck. Then the animal is allowed to have its natural curiosity manifest while it's exposed to a live rattlesnake, which is kept in a safe and secure container.

Whenever the animal approaches the rattlesnake, it receives a shock. After a sufficient number of shocks, the animal associates these painful sensations with the sight, sound, and smell of a rattlesnake. (Apparently, rattlesnakes also have a very unique scent.)

And that's how to snake-proof your pet in a nutshell.
With the proliferation of such noxious creatures, it is easy to see why people want to protect their pets by keeping them indoors. There are snakes ready to strike at every cactus. And those sweet kitty cats and cute little dogs make delicious coyote canapés.

Heading back, there's Black Mountain way up the road, the same mountain that I nearly drove off the day before.

While walking back, Gary wanted to stop and take pictures of the desert houses. You can barely see them in this picture. Look at how they blend in with their environment. However, they would stick out like a sore thumb in New England, just like a New England farm house would stick out in the Arizona desert.

Here's a closer view of those same houses in the picture above. A lot of the houses in Arizona are the adobe style houses that have been common to the Native Americans in that area. But instead of being built from sun-dried bricks of sand, clay, straw, and dung, these modern day adobe homes are made from poured concrete.

Also, I saw many houses that were going up that had particle board for the walls. And while such a material generally doesn't work well in humid climates like New England (even though contractors still use it because it's much cheaper than plywood), it's ideal for a hot, dry desert climate like Arizona. And besides, the concrete creates a pretty good seal against any possible moisture.

Here's a dark orange adobe house off in the distance. Notice that it's a different color than the previous adobe houses. I'm not sure if the color is added into the cement mixture or painted on later.

Here's that same house a little more up close. I wonder what those white patches by the windows are. Repair work perhaps?

It's an impressive structure, and it looks Italianate in some ways. Not all adobe homes follow the lines of traditional Native American adobe homes. Tuscan style adobe homes are also popular in Arizona.

Hey! We're getting closer to the B & B. I can see the Spur Cross Bed and Breakfast and even Carolyn's car in its parking spot. Behind the B & B is the Desert Foothills Library, which is presently under construction. (Gee! Just like our public library back home!)

And who can resist these 3 amigos? I must say, that I have really been taken in by the saguaro cacti. In fact, they were a big reason why I was looking forward to my trip to Arizona. I wanted to see cacti as tall as trees.

Even Gary could not resist taking a picture of these 3 fellows. There are no saguaro cacti in El Paso, Texas.

Saguaro cacti are only located in the Sonoran Desert, which straddles the U.S.-Mexican border. In the U.S., the Sonoran Desert is located in the southwest corner of Arizona and in a very small portion in the southeast of California.

Even though it may look like a hot, dry, and barren bit of land, the Sonoran Desert sports quite the vast diversity of plant, animal, and insect life. We are truly fortunate to have this unique treasure right here in our back yard!

Anyhow, we made it back to the B & B in one piece. I realized the mistake that I made when I took off my cowboy boots with that one pair of socks. There, on the base of both big toes, were 2 huge water blisters. In fact, the one on the left broke and was oozing plasma.

Boy! Did it sure feel good to get my dogs out of those boots and into a pair of comfy, broken-in sandals.

And now, time for Foster's party.

Weird Does Not Apply

Well, I survived day 1 of boot camp. Now it was time to return to home base and make my daily ritual phone calls to Ariana and Roma (who forgot about the 3-hour time distance and called me while I was still in class).

Roma had called with the news of an escaped murderer in our town and for me to tell Ariana to be careful.

I had realized that it's been 3 days since I read a newspaper or heard the news. And you know what, that felt kind of nice.

Then I called Ariana. Yes, she already knew about the escaped murderer. She wasn't too much concerned about crossing paths with him, even though he was a relative of one of her former classmates who lived not even a mile up the road many years ago.

In addition to talk about escaped murderers lurking in our sleepy town, I extolled the virtues of Arizona and the people that I met, particularly in Cave Creek. People were incredibly kind and friendly. Even the drivers were sane and respected the 4-way stop signs and, for the most part, the speeding limits.

Here I was "normal." I wasn't weird. Nobody thought I had a character defect for being a middle-aged woman sporting a large tattoo on her forearm. I could be myself without people reacting as though I was a stuck-up snob because I was articulate and could easily use several 3-syllable words in one sentence.

(However, my quirky sense of humor did not seem to pack the same punch that it does back home. But hey! I'm not complaining.)

After living nearly my entire life in a place where people often considered me weird, odd, or what have you, that was kind of refreshing. As proud as I am about my uniqueness, being labeled as weird gets rather old and stale after awhile.

After hearing all this, Ariana said that she wanted to move to Arizona also. Now to convince the rest of the family.