Sunday, December 28, 2008

Anza Borrego: No One Make Waffles Like Mom

Today we woke up in our shitty Motel 6 hotel, where the bed is like a couple of cardboard slices layered on cement and the scattered spots on the carpet leave my very fertile artistic mind contemplating the millions of disgusting things that could have made them. I tried to pull myself off the bed and almost cried because my back felt like a 90 year old ancient version of my own. OH why, next time we leave home I am going to try and convince Mr. Rogue to pack our temperpedic mattress. Thank goodness we are not staying at this shitty Motel another night because tonight we will be using our new tent camped under the open starry sky. After packing the car we ran some errands for supplies before heading off to see my parents for a low key afternoon.

Getting to the RV Park we walked in and mom immediately started making waffles. The kind of waffles you had as a kid, the kind that taste so much better than ANYONE else’s waffles because moms insert them with lots of secret magic love (a power I am sure you only get once you give birth). No one makes them like mom. After breakfast we hiked around the lake at the park and looked for birds, my parent’s new hobby. A couple of years ago once my parents officially decided to retire early and become complete hippies by selling our house and traveling RV style across the US, I bought my mom a set of bird books from National Geographic. They were the kind that has photos of the birds, what they eat, what they sound like, and where they live. Although I knew my mother would like the gift I had no idea that she would love them as much as she now does. Mom now likes to go bird watching and records what bird she finds along with the date and place in the book and dad likes to photo them. Her hope is that eventually she will find all the birds in all the books and dad is proud that many of the photos he has gotten are better than the ones provided in the book. I am very fortunate to see these things in my parents because of their great love for each other, they provide a great foundation for what I want my relationship with my husband to be, a bonding between two people that is very symbiotic. My mother discovered her love for bird watching so my father found a way he could be part of that love my mother had with his photography. Things like this allow people to grow together closer.

After eating an early turkey dinner with all the fixins mom had made we left at 3 for the Anza Borrego Desert Campsite. The sun sets early so we really needed to get there as soon as possible. Once there we scrambled to set up camp before the sun went down. We successfully managed to get everything done and the fire started when it really started to get black. It was pretty cold but at least we came prepared with warm clothes and a lot of wood. Sitting by the fire in the silence of the desert and watching the flames lick the wood you can’t help but be calm and quiet. The fire for me is very hypnotic and soothing. When you live in the city you forget about the stars because you never ever see them in all their glory. Sure you can see a few but not them all, and as I tilt back in my chair and stare up at the sky I sighed in contentment with this one moment of perfection.

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