These days, Thursday morning is ordinarily the time I finish writing these posts. It’s a reasonable goal that I seldom accomplish. I give the piece a “final” reading but never publish it immediately. Usually, I spend additional time revising or editing.

For many reasons, I can be slow to put pen to paper.  Maybe I slept in this morning because it was cold and I was cozy underneath my warm, soft winter comforter. Some weeks it’s hard to unearth the tiniest pebble of an idea for a post.  Regardless of why I got delayed, I know I’m prone to make errors if I feel rushed or my time is compressed. Because of this knowledge, I get annoyed if I spot a mistake after the piece has been published.

I have no excuses this week.  Indeed, by the time you read today’s post, Lola and I could well be on our long road back to Tucson.

***

This year marks our third annual road trip. The first was desultory and meandering, featuring numerous brief stops and side trips: sampling hot, thrown rolls at a diner in Sikeston; gawking at the world’s tallest stainless-steel structure; reliving history along the Trail of Tears, the Santa Fe Trail, and Old Route 66; paying our respects to Leon Russell and his music in a quiet cemetery in Tulsa, Oklahoma; considering the inspired artwork buried in the ground at the Cadillac Ranch; glimpsing the magnificent landscape that is New Mexico at sunrise, followed by a brief and disappointing visit to Roswell to search for extraterrestrials. Last year Lola and I fled home amidst the coldest temperatures experienced in several years. Frigid air chased us south, then west for one thousand miles, nearly to Amarillo, Texas.

However, the southern route we’ve chosen is utilitarian, not scenic. Except for a narrow band through “the Cave State,” and most of what I’ve seen of New Mexico, I’d avoid everything in between if possible. Perhaps we’ll take the northern route someday, but the constant threat of heavy snow crossing the Continental Divide during winter and spring cautions against it.

I contemplate quick overnighters in Joplin, Amarillo, and Las Cruces en route to Tucson. However, part of the adventure of being on the road is that things are subject to change without notice.

***

I’m anxious to inspect our Tucson rental quarters in person.  Our quarters over the previous two years were simple and spartan, and a little cramped, more comfortable for a short stay rather than the long hiatus we’re undertaking. This year should mark a dramatic lodging upgrade, certainly judging by the price I have paid. Also, I ought to be better suited to entertain now than in past years.

However, my limited contact with the property owner/manager has given me pause. Not getting accurate or prompt answers to simple questions leaves me anxious about what we’ll discover once we arrive. Mainly, I don’t want to experience any problems gaining occupancy of the place.

Of course, once I’m settled, I’ll make the best of things. I already have passing familiarity with the geography of the place and some of the local customs. I have close friends who reside in Tucson. The city, which hosts the University of Arizona, is a center of cultural activity, despite its relatively small population.

I will also take full advantage of the abundant sunshine and blue skies, the relative warmth, the mountains, and the desert scenery for vigorous exercise or leisurely exploration. Excepting the risks posed by cactus needles, coyotes, bobcats, rattlesnakes, and squadrons of javelinas roaming the countryside, for Lola, this place could be a doggy paradise. We spend lots of time enjoying outdoor activities.

Indeed, by the time we return home in the Spring, perhaps we’ll both have shed a few pounds. As I’m wonted to say, the clothes don’t lie. Only time will tell.