Traumatized by Mouth Noses -- Out and About, Arizona

It's five ten.

The clock still ticks.

A small inhale.

A large exhale.

tick-TOCK-tick-TOCK-tick-TOCK --

Counting down my seconds in the states.

Something I've been doing (for a myriad of different reasons) since my plane landed in Denver, Colorado on September 28th.

Counting down until I saw my old friend waiting for me at the airport.

Counting down until I glimpsed my parents driving into Amanda's parking lot.

Counting down until I met my niece/leetle monster for the very first time.

-- until I drank my first cup of my favorite tea.

-- until I went to Divine Play in Portland.

-- until I walked down the riverbank/aisle for Janet's wedding.

-- until I crashed one of the themed dinners...

-- until I went to the Acro Yoga solar immersion in Boulder.

-- until I had to say goodbye to all the beautiful people who continue to live in the city I've lived the longest.

Never. NEVER would I have expected to have such an overwhelmingly positive experience in this town. Sure, there were a few explosives I ended up tripping over, but my goodness gracious, the sheer number of glorious surprises made that little extra heartache downright unimportant. These months weren't spent counting down lasts as a way to make the time go faster. These months were spent cherishing some pretty stellar firsts. 

But now. Now it's my last morning in the US for the foreseeable future.

Somehow.

(although as I don't think the future is foreseeable at all, this means next to nothing)

I'm relishing it. With coffee and gluten-free waffles drowned in peanut butter and maple syrup.

Like the good American/Canadian I am.

Yesterday was splendid. Robert and Philip drove Ryan and me to a gluten-free wonderland where I managed to ingest just about 67% of my bodyweight in acai berry smoothie with granola and peanut butter.

Thanks for taking such good care of me. From beginning to end. You both made me feel so welcome and relaxed and girl's gonna have to be paying it forward for a long while at this point. 

"Is it good?" Robert asked as he slurped his own acai.

"Mmm... oohhh... damn. Could you hold on a minute? Think I'm gonna try to get a room with it. Don't wait up."

Second stop on the final day of "Project Robert Takes Aimee to Phoenix" was an... umm... ostrich, goat, duck, prairie dog, other random creature feeding zoo.

The lady at the entrance handed each of us large black containers of fat green pellets.

"If you put a pellet between your teeth and then let the goat take it out of your mouth, it'll look like you're getting a goat kiss."

And I want that because? 

"Now, this food here is for the prairie dogs. But they might not be out, 'cos it's so cold today. I'm freezin' my butt off out here," the woman shivered in the fifty-sixty degree weather.

Umm... it's DECEMBER. Butts are generally expected to freeze off this time of year. 

I masterfully kept my fingers away from the edge of the cup and managed to feed the donkeys with no problem at all. Indeed, nary a finger went missing. And many delightful donkeys tickled my hands with their inquisitive mouth/noses, so I considered the donkey-feeding stage of this adventure an unequivocal success.

The deer were a bit more difficult.

Longer teeth (probably due to my overactive imagination).

Less overall surface area of whiskery, adorable mouth/nose.

And three hundred percent more desperation.

"I... oh goodness. Umm... feeding. They look like snakes, Robert!"

"No, Aimee. They do not look like snakes."

"Yes they do! The way their heads wobble around on their long necks. And... argh... the way their eyes are just looking at nothing and yet they still seem so desperate."

"Aimee..." Robert shook his head, laugh/sighed and continued to feed the deer. I charily held out my hands and remembered all the times my colt had nipped my fingers and covered my arms and back with bruises and teeth marks.

Hey. Hey guys. Will you all just take it down a few notches? Please? I'm not good at dealing with desperation. It's JUST alfalfa! For pete's sake. 

There are goats at the top of this. Food is placed in small cups and then sent up the belts to the grateful residents up top. I approve of this method. I fed many goats. 

 The Hole in the Wall Gang was where this lady reached her limit.

All the wriggling heads (all larger than mine) with hypnotic/vacant eyes, weaving this way and that, did me in.

"ROBERT!"

"Aimee?"

"It's too much. I can't handle it. Those eyes... "

*sigh*

"Aimee's traumatized," Robert confided in Philip as they braved this new level of desperate animal together and without trepidation.

I've never reacted to animals quite like this before.

What's happening to me? 

I'm an animal person, believe it or not. Cats and dogs and horses and birds and rabbits and geckos are the best.

But if an animal is looking at me like this --

-- I generally keep my distance. I figure he's got some shit to sort out and I'll check back in when he's feeling sorted.

I mustered massive amounts of courage from the depths of my spleen (that's where courage lives, right?) to feed the ostriches. Their long necks and hard beaks could reach over the fence quite easily, so I used my ninja skills to duck down low and toss alfalfa in the buckets before they could swoop over and remove a section of my scalp.

'cos this. This is how all the ostriches look to me all the time.

 So while they may be majestic, powerful creatures, they are creatures I enjoy admiring from a distance. With my hands in my pockets and not holding things that they wish to consume.

I threw peanuts at prairie dogs.

"I can do this," I told Robert. "I can throw peanuts at prairie dogs all day." 

The prairie dogs even have their own train. 

 These goats looked significantly less desperate than the goats with heads larger than my torso, but I'd already used up all my alfalfa.

Alas.

"Must really suck to be at the end of the line. Sorry guys," I forced an apologetic tone to disguise the relief in my voice.

But then there were ducks.

Wait... more? Agh. Premature victory dance. 

Robert fed the ducks like a man, cupping the pellets in his hand and letting the water fowl stab it out with their rounded beaks.

I fed the ducks like the woman from Mary Poppins feeds the pigeons.

Which is to say, I threw it at them.

Last stop, Lorikeets.

We entered the cacophonous aviary and placed the cups of sugary water in our hands. The birds flocked to our fingers (heads, shoulders, arms and any other perch they could find), removed the lids and drank the nectar.

Stop number three was the Kartchner Caves in Kartchner Caverns State Park near Benson, Arizona.

We weren't allowed to take cameras into the caves.

Or cellphones.

Or anything else except for the clothes we wore.

 So I have no pictures to share.

Just the advice that if you happen to find yourself near Benson and are eager for an experience that leaves you slack-jawed and speechless and very small indeed, take a tour into the Kartchner Caves.

What a perfect conclusion to my two month sabbatical. Another spectacular memory to tie to the country I called home for so many years. 

I fly into Mexico today. Jonas will meet me at the airport at seven pm.

I'm thrilled and worried and intrigued and confused. There's a Gloria running around in my head, chattering "where am I? How did I get here? What am I doing?"

You're doing what you want to be doing, Bourget. You're doing what you need to be doing. That's certainly enough. So cool your jets, Gloria.