Friday, February 10, 2006

Tucson, Arizona

So a funny thing happened on the way to Nogales. We picked up our mail from South Dakota at the tiny Red Rock (Arizona) post office, but the ProstaQ from Herbalove never made it. The postmaster in Red Rock was so excited to have a customer that he hung up with his phone call saying, “Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a customer. (pause) YES! A real LIVE one!”. So, I’m thinking they don’t see much action in Red Rock. Red Rock is actually nothing but a Post Office and, according to the postmaster, a bar that is a drug hangout. You’d think a grouping of homes (4 homes), no store, no gas station, really nothing but the bar, the Post Office, a school and 4 homes wouldn’t have a huge drug problem, but apparently the border drug runners pick the Red Rock bar to do thier transacting. Never would have crossed my mind.

So, we got our mail, all except the ProstaQ for Jamie. He has found that it is making an ENORMOUS difference in his prostatis.  Herbalove has no idea where the package is, USPS has no idea (even though it had delivery confirmation) and we decide to find a campground to figure things out. I find a campground (with a pool) and the kids think we’ve moved into glory land. The caretakers are lovely and happy and wonderful people so we stay the night to deal with the ProstaQ issue. Next day Herbalove offers to FedEx us a package, but we’ve since found that the campground owner is an absolute SHREW and is charging us up the wazoo for anything she can think of. Unfortunately, Herbalove doesn’t get the package shipped Thursday, but the kids spend the ENTIRE day in the pool. From breakfast to dinner. We hit Costco in Tuscon that night; didn’t find the inverter I had been looking for, nor deep cycle Golf Cart batteries (which would buy us som 200+ amp hours of energy as opposed to our current max of 80) but we did buy almost all the pesto they had. As is my wont, I filled out a bitch card (they might call them customer satisfaction cards) bitching about the complete lack of organic peanut butter. For some reason, Costco in California and Arizona (so far) has stopped carrying good Marantha or other organic brands of peanut butter in favor of their own (Kirkland). Normally not an issue, but Costco, for some unknown reason, decided to add oil and sugar to their organic peanut butter. I suppose some people like sweet peanut butter… Each time I’ve talked to store personnel they indicate that others have made the same comment; they’re all scratching their heads. What the HELL was I talking about. I’m so far out on this tangent that I’m looking around and have no idea how I got here or where I am. Poor fools; you’re out here with me…

So, we left the campground of the damned and honestly, the ONLY reason we left is because the owner was such an unholy bitch, and headed to BLM land in southwest Tuscon. We are crossing all appendages that the pacakge of ProstaQ will be at the Tuscon main post office tomorrow morning. Steven at Herbalove apparently walked it down to the post office and sent it USPS express overnight, faster than FedEx, personally. If the gods are smiling on us and the package is waiting tomorrow, we’ll head to Nogales tomorrow and cross the border Sunday. If not, who knows. I’m getting really sick of the dust and dirt and blah colors of the southwest Arizona desert. My eyes are hungry for green.

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