January 4, 1998: Praising Arizona

It was 4 in the morning when Maggie woke me up to let me know Callie couldn’t sleep. I got up and played with them a bit, peeking out the window to see that our possessions were still ours, then climbed back into bed to make the most of the warm bed where, unbeknownst to me, Beth was having a nightmare. She had also been woken up and had seen me looking out the window, but then, she fell back asleep. In her dream, I turned to her from the window and said, “Well, we might as well get going,” and she’d gotten up and started packing, swearing under her breath, “I just want to sleep; why can’t he just sleep for awhile longer?” Then, she woke up and saw me asleep next to her and Maggie playfully sticking her paw in my ear. Ah, it was just a bad dream, she realized, then she fell back asleep.

Apparently the Houston La Quinta #9 (the one hiding my beeper) had reported our banana fervor to La Quinta Fort Stockton during the night, because when we arrived for our free continental breakfast, all the good ones were taken, and the staff closely watched our every move. We were tired anyway, as we’d challenged ourselves to get on the road early, so we went through the motions and got underway.

The rainbow-sherbet morning sky promised sunshine from behind wide cottony smears, and once we were up to speed on our interstate, it all came bursting through. El Paso was our first objective, and we made it easily within a couple of hours with Beth behind the wheel for her first time as a truck driver. Next, we both met New Mexico for the first time. With the miles piling up and our final destination approaching in less than a day, only the spectacular sights of Tucson could slow our progress even a little. Storms raged on the mountain range to the south while magic hour rose-gold sunlight fractured the jagged peaks to the north. Hopefully my traveling pictures will do justice to the dusty, dazzling gemstone we witnessed there in person.

The day’s goal was to reach Phoenix, with its 370-mile proximity to the City of the Angels — and we made it just after darkness had settled. After dinner at IHOP that’s better left undescribed, we turned into a Fairfield Inn for one last night on the road. I’ve mentioned the cats a few times in these notes, but I haven’t described their hilarious habits upon arriving in our room each night. Beth dutifully totes in their carriers, and after all our other essentials are inside and the door closed, their carriers are opened. My guess is that their low-slung, slinking postures are in response to the shaking, vibrating centers of gravity they’ve suffered through on the day’s journey; they don’t trust the earth to be steady, so they nearly crawl in searching out a dark, cramped, non-moving corner in our new place. But they have to crane their necks and open their eyes so wide and ears so perked it must hurt — to sense anything that might otherwise surprise them. They jump up onto things, landing in their crouched position but with neck extended and wired eyes catching everything. We laugh at them and have even gotten pretty good at sleeping while they pass over, under, around and between us in the night. In the morning, we always find them in close company, packed into the four-inch space between the headboard and the wall. After tomorrow, it’ll be no more valiums for them. But manana, one last time, it’ll be buenos noches….