Desert rats

Something about the desert, the isolation from nearly everyone with whom I'm accustomed to having regular discourse, the absence of any excuse to fix my hair... I have found myself restless for meaningful engagement and a reason to plug in the curling iron. Maybe not in that order, you say? 

There are no electrical outlets in our tiny casita's baño, which should not come as a surprise if you've paying any attention at all. Also the mirror, which is not even close to being over the bathroom sink, is placed at a height appropriate for a ten-year-old. 

First mirror selfie of the trip. Headless, and not a trick of perspective. If nothing else, this trip is teaching me lessons in 1) resourcefulness and 2) determination. I will not be that lady who went nutto, moved to the desert with a wild man to do arts and crafts, and let herself go. I currently have a hot curling iron, a can of AquaNet, and a severe lack of input from you all, which could be misconstrued by some as a lack of better judgement. 

In these days of not being on the move and not being overloaded with the constant new stimuli of the road, a restlessness creeps in, akin to the restlessness of sitting in a cubicle and wanting something deeper, more meaningful, a model for learning and sharing. Ben and I have these talks at night about the origins of these feelings and cravings and how to build a model to address them. These stretches of stillness change the trip from one of external discovery to one one of internal discovery. It may or may not be of any interest out there, but if you are out there reading, this may be an S.O.S of sorts. 

Ben works on Billy and says we know we can't figure things out just by thinking about them. We can't find where we are going without getting up and going there. Whatever conversation I'm looking for, whatever healthy, meaningful, fulfilling engagement model I'm seeking, probably won't happen through a blog. Who knows how this will all play out, but while the face to face conversation with the outside world is missing, thanks for the occasional emails and texts and for generally keeping in touch. For now, digital contact is a sort of social life line as we move away from the center of the village and hurl ourselves at a wilderness I've not fully explored before. We are our own social experiment and this blog is the admittedly unwise record of the inner workings of a deranged mind disguised by freshly big and fabulous hair.