Saturday, March 11, 2006

March 11, 2006
"I am perfect. I am beautiful and I have everything I need to be happy." At least that was the message I got from Michelle in this morning's yoga class that Kathy drug me to. Of course Michelle is beautiful, lithe and can bend her body into a pretzel. Me and the other guy in the class (Jim N.), can get our bodies just about into a fruit loop (if you don't count the loop). Tight? Oh, Kimo Sabe, me so tight I can't throw back a drink without bending my entire upper body. I'm not joking. Kathy was ribbing me about swigging water and she suggested I bend my neck back instead of doing the limbo, and when I told her that my body wasn't going to cooperate, well, she suggested yoga, and there I was, quivering on "Down Dog" and collapsing in shame over the simplest of "stretches."

It started raining last night and we woke up to a soggy landscape. Drinking ooffee in bed, Kathy remarked, "It looks like it's snowing." I glanced out our loveseat windown and I'll be damned if she wasn't telling the truth! By nine, when we drove up to the gym for the yoga class, it was really coming down and the desert had a total Arizona Highways Christmas issue look. It snowed for about two hours and I took two rolls of film to prove it. I know, I know, I have a digital but I don't like it.

Yesterday afternoon, I drove down into the Beast. Had to deliver ten hardbound Wyatt Earps (very rare second editions with the diatribe against Kevin Costner's lawyers) to Greg Hays at American West Galleries on Main Street. Encountered the worst traffic in memory. In addition to the glut of snowbirds we have a wave of spring training goobers (I imagine this weather is all to familiar to most of them. In fact, they spent thousands of dollars to get away from this!).

I got a call from Gordon Smith and Heather the Weather Girl at about one. They drove out to Cave Creek to take in the snow and they wanted to know if I wanted to come out and play, but I was just about to take a nap and declined. They told me I was going to miss out on some quality Zane time, and I'm sure I did.

Most of the snow is melted by now (3 pm), but I'm snuggled in my studio with a fire going in the stove, Buddy Boze Hatkiller asleep in his favorite chair and Peaches stretched out below. Really a luxurious day, which just about proves Michelle's point (above).

"The most astonishing thing about miracles is that they happen."
—Old Vaquero Saying

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