Monday July 22
Day of the Jackalope
First thing this morning I got the oil changed in the car at a ZipLube. There I met a Jewish Elder who told me all about Santa Fe. He suggested that I take Route 285 out to I-40 instead of going back down to Albuquerque, which suited me just fine. But, before leaving Santa Fe, Corey and I had some serious shopping to do at a neat shop I'd seen the night before. We also had to find the Pena Gallery downtown.
Heading north from our motel, I stopped a bit too suddenly for Corey; I caused her to spill her soda all over herself and the seat. I'd seen the shop a bit late, but didn't want to miss it. It's called Jackalope and it's named after the famous southwest animal. Although much of the indoor sections of the shop are devoted to South American Indian trinkets and strings of chilipeppers (exactly the reason why I didn't think I was going to like Santa Fe), there is a nursery selling very reasonably priced cactus plants of all types. Naturally, this (along with a small stuffed jackalope for Michael) rounded out my collection of souvenirs from the southwest; we only had to make room in the car for everything now.
And that is where the trouble began. My back had been hurting me for a few days now, probably since the long walk uphill to get the car at Lake Powell (July 17) and when I was choosing my plants, Corey reminded me that we didn't have room for them. I knew that the car wasn't as packed as it could be (I had absolutely nothing above the backrest of the backseat), so I knew I could get a whole lot more in the car. But all I'd bought were a few plants in three very small cardboard boxes. We walked out to the car and I opened the deck. Then I began moving things around, condensing things.
During our entire road trip, we'd been doing some minor laundry in the motels' showers. Things like T-shirts and underwear, my bathrobe, socks, cotton shorts. Things that could be spread out on a towel in the back deck of the station wagon to dry. The first thing we'd have to do is condense all the dry laundry. Then condensing all the emergency toiletries we'd brought along, buying more at Wal-Mart. Although none of this would take more than 10 minutes, it required leaning into the deck to reach everything. And that's where I needed help. After I moved a few things out onto the ground behind the car, I began reaching in to collect the laundry and place the items in their proper suitcases. That's when I noticed Corey sitting in the front of the car.
My back was killing me at this point but I waited a few more minutes, as I was almost finished anyway. But some lifting would soon be required; nothing heavy, nothing I hadn't already lifted several times during the last few weeks on the road. Now I needed her and she was still sitting! I called out to her from the back deck instead of walking over nicely. I called out, "Corey, I really could use some help back here." She went balistic, accusing me of "yelling at" her. All I wanted was some help.
I don't recall if she gave me the help I needed or if she got walked away in a huff. Nonetheless, the next few hours of driving were horrible, at least for me. Corey was pissy because she thought I yelled at her. I think that 2-1/2 weeks of being mostly in a car was starting to take its toll on both of us. We drove in silence, at least she was silent. Any time I tried to talk to her, she'd give me her "cold shoulder" and either answer with a one or 2 word "sentence" or she'd grunt and be silent again.
As I headed southeast out of Santa Fe toward the Interstate, the sky grew dark with clouds, just like my heart. Crying silent tears, my eyes burning... my heart breaking. Yes, we'd had days like this before, but nothing that I couldn't handle. And the silence would always be broken when SHE wanted to break it. Not this time; I'm the mom and I'm allowed to ask for help! I'm allowed to "yell" at my kids if I feel it's reasonably reasonable. The real problem had come because as she was so permitted to "yell" at me because she was pissed off or insulted, she wasn't going to allow me to explain what I really said or did! That gets me every time. And so I cried.
I really wanted Corey to love this trip, in spite of having not wanted to go in the first place. And there were times when I truly thought she was enjoying it, even loving it, if I can stretch that far. But now today, with my back killing me and her cold shoulder facing me, I cried as I drove. Not being able to take much more of it, I figured maybe a little "guilt" might be in order. I don't recall EVER having used the old "Jewish mother guilt" on any of my kids before, I tried it now. It backfired.
After driving around downtown Santa Fe for about the 4th time and having no idea where I was, I finally gave up ever finding the Pena Gallery and instead headed southeast toward I-40 and home. About an hour later, we arrived in Cline's Corner where the road met the Interstate and we went took a short break from sitting in the car. The sky was overcast and very threatening. It was still the monsoon season.
When we reached Cline's Corner where Route 25 meets I-40, I parked the car. They have a large souvenir shop, gas station and restaurant. I figured I could take care of any last-minute shopping and get gas. This would be our last store in the southwest. Before I got out, a sleeping Corey woke up. I told her I was going to give her my payphone calling-card; I had $8.00 left on it. She could call my father to wire her the money for an airplane ticket and then she should hitch-hike to Alburquerque (the next city west on I-40) to catch a plane home. I told her how I couldn't stand her cold shoulder any more; how hurt I was that she could yell at me, be angry at me, and not give me a chance to tell her what I was trying to tell her; how her tempter tantrums and silent treatment were things she did as a 2 year old when she wasn't yet talking, but it was time to talk now that she could. I told her how hurt I was that she could treat me this way, knowing how much my back had been hurting these last few days. How I've never used the "Jewish mother guilt" before, but I'm at the end of my rope with her silent treatment. It was like she was going out of her way to make sure I knew without a doubt that this trip was "my" idea and that she was just going along to keep me company. That she'd never wanted to go, but didn't want me going alone. And, I remembered an email from her telling me that I "better appreciate it." She cried and I cried, but she never said a word.
I went into the store alone, leaving her to think about whatever it was she needed to think about. I must have been in there for a half-hour! She never came in. Finally, I went out to the car (this was wasting precious time) and told her they had a restaurant in there and that I was going to get lunch. I went back in and went to the rest room. I know she came in and took the next stall (I could see her shoes), but she never spoke to me. I didn't like the attitude of the "hostess" at the restaurant, so I never did eat there. Back in the store, I saw her standing by a display of something and I told her they had an "Indian Room" where there was a really nice turquoise bracelet she might want to look at. That's where I bought Lance's turquoise bearclaw pendant earlier. She went in, looked, shook her head "no, I don't like it," and left. We went back to the car.
The entire drive from Cline's Corner to Amarillo was one of frustration. I thought the car, at least, would be glad to finally be on an Interstate but every time I had to climb a long hill I had to shut the A/C. It was too hot to drive without it, yet it got too cold too fast because it was so overcast and, at times, raining. It was too hot to drive without the A/C yet it was raining and I couldn't open a window. Next time, I get a car with a larger engine.
On the way out west what seems like years ago, we'd decided to make a stop in Tucumcari for dinner on the way back east. And so, in the pouring rain, Tucumcari couldn't come fast enough for us. We had a great dinner in a place called Del's (and Corey was now talking to me) on old Route 66 and then headed out toward Amarillo. Once we entered Texas, the road construction and tractor-trailer congestion began all over again. But this time, the time spent in Texas didn't seem to be as long or boring as we remembered it. Nor was Amarillo the ugly town we thought it to be.
Upon entering the city limits, I pulled off the Interstate and drove east along side streets. There we discovered that Amarillo really was a nice town afterall, and much larger than we'd originally thought. The motel clerk had no record of my reservation (so what else is new with Motel 6?), but then I thought to ask if this was Amarillo-East. It was not; we were still in the western part of town. Ah-ha... at least it wasn't Motel 6's fault this time. But, I was warned, be careful because I-40 was closed earlier. Although it had recently been reopened, I was admonished to still be very careful.
Driving toward the eastern section of town I realized why I-40 had been closed. There is one section of road where it was easier to build the highway DOWN under the cross-streets than to raise the cross-streets. I guess this would make sense in an ordinarily dry area, but in monsoon season, the road floods terribly. As we arrived at the correct motel, we were told that a man about my age had just been pulled from his van on a flooded underpass just a few blocks away. How horrible!
Our motel room was really nice and we saw news coverage of the flooding on TV. Thankfully, everyone else involved managed to swim to safety, but this man couldn't swim and was either paralyzed or an amputee (the news anchor mentioned diabetes as a cause). He had last been seen on top of the van as the rescuers hung from the bottom of the overpass, their heads barely above water.
Jackalope in Santa Fe
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