Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Location: United States

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

"I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure." - Ripley, Aliens

In the last post, I promised bad sheep. You look and tell me what those sheep are up to, eh? Also, I love the imagery of this one - the valiant conquistador is leading his party of vaqueros, goats, pigs, and mules to a nice atomic missile. "Hey, we've got New Mexico. And NUKES!!!!!"

We spent the night at the La Quinta® and got up late. The folks we were visiting in Albuquerque were tied up (not in the bondage sort of way, but in the busy sort of way – I think) and we took our time. We went to the continental breakfast that La Quinta™ puts out, and were the very last people through. There was still batter for the waffle iron, which was much simpler to operate than a conventional Soviet-era tank, but just as solidly constructed.

Interestingly, the La Quinta® people are very much into customer service, having visited this website not an hour after my last post when I posted that we were going to stay there. Note to La Quinta™ - I can be bribed. And your room was nice and the coffee was good.

Most waffles are shaped either like the moon or the state of Colorado (or, on the realy wild waffle side, Wyoming). This particular waffle iron put out waffles in the shape of Texas. Really.

The Boy was ecstatic while he ate Texas, even though the waffle was upside down, and the view he had of Texas was similar to Texas as seen from the vantage point of the core of the Earth. He didn’t notice. Pugsley ate a waffle. And yogurt. And juice. And two Danish pastries. And more juice. And his napkin. And another waffle. For being 23 months old, that boy can put away the groceries.

The Boy bounded out to the car, and Pugsley made seismometers tremble in Ulan Bator as he lurched his way to the car. We drove.

The ride to Albuquerque was a smooth one, after the three zillion hours it took to cross Texas. When we hit the state line, well, the surrounding terrain immediately stopped looking like Texas, and started looking like New Mexico. It was stark, obvious, and shocking – lush cattle country on one side of the line, high rocky mountainous deserty stuff on the other. I never knew that geology and climate paid attention to those little lines on the map.

After another hundred or so miles we stopped at a rest stop so the weak amongst the Wilders could relieve certain urges. I had my own bladder removed surgically several years ago so I am no longer weak like the rest of them, but, the screaming and yelling proved to be too much.

As I escorted The Boy in the men’s side of the rest stop, he began a long discussion about the construction of the building. Thanks to his current addiction to “This Old House”, his questions were intricate and displayed a precocious knowledge of all things construction for a six year old:
“Why did they use tongue and groove 2x6 for the ceiling? Is an asphalt built up roof on top? Is that a 2x10 beam? Why did they use Allen-head screws on the partitions?”

His questions sparked laughter from the other side of the toilet partition. At least I hope it was his questions, otherwise some dude was just sitting laughing inside a toilet stall at a rest stop, and that’s just plain creepy.

Okay, speed kills, sure. But speed humps? That would so keep me from speeding.

We drove onward. The road into Albuquerque cuts right into the side of a mountain. Given the relative quality of the rock, sometimes the entire outcrop is covered in concrete to keep the rocks from being ripped by gravity from the side of the hill and then dashed down into busses filled with nuns, kittens, and the children of Bruce Willis and Demi Moore.

The keen eye of The Boy led to a long back and forth discussion of rock mechanics, retention structures, geology, and civil engineering that made The Mrs. pass into a coma-like vegetative state (though fortunately she has a living will that explicitly states that The Mrs. can’t be deprived of food because I’ve bored her into a coma) and made Pugsley hungry.

Around another corner, and, Albuquerque.

We went to Garduños (touristy, I know, but the green chilies are good) and had lots of green chilies and sopapillas. Pugsley ate his weight in honey.

Soap, Sound, Traffic, Pinot


Blogger brotherbill said...

Okay, okay. This one had me laughing. It's a sad thing to admit, it's true, but you got to me. Throw the BigP a ham hock. Hmmmm, "BigP", ...in more ways than one. Yes! It works.

Sitting here in on the edge of my cot, bottom bunk, enjoying your column keeps jail comfy, in a eerily familiar sort of way. Oh, did I tell you? I was served an arrest warrant. You know where to read The Rest Of The Story™.
Hope to hear from all y'all soon. mailto:badboy98734987@thejoint.net

7:11 AM  
Blogger shawnkielty said...

Hey --

Nice -- I remember those speed humps signs from Arizona.

If you get to Santa Fe -- Go to the Horseman's Haven for breakfast and get the Avodobo chile. Your life will be forever changed. And don't be too concerned about it looking like it's a converted gas station.

8:13 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

One of these days you'll have to check out the Texas State Fair (usually in Sept. I believe). They have nacho chips shaped like the state of Texas -- gotta love it!

9:26 AM  
Blogger Jeffro said...

Man, I can handle speed killing, but humping? Not so much.

2:15 PM  
Blogger Coldfoot said...

A Texas waffle for the boy?

That's just like eating at a restaurant in Alaska. There are Alaska sized meals for adults, and Texas sized meals on the kiddie menu.

3:37 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have been gone to long without checking into your blog! All sort of fun things happening in your travels.

You remind me of my dad with the whole... hold the bladder thing. lol Not always a good memory though.

Keep the tales coming!

PS. how are the book sales??

5:26 PM  
Blogger John said...

Pugsley could eat through the hamhock and go through the pig. He ate his weight in flapjacks tonight. And my weight, too.

Read about the whole jail thing . . . good stuff. How's the CEO for a roomie?

Oh, I know that chilie. What do you think was in my burrito????

Yay state fairs! I love them. I'll have a nacho or three to celebrate. Though, in truth, I've never lived in a triangular state where the average Dorito could be the state food . . .

Just makes you sore.

An Alaska waffle would be difficult. How do you handle the islands???

For shame! Tales keep coming. Book keeps selling, though not enough to fund financial freedom. It will pay for a beer or several dozen.

5:55 PM  

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