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Quartzite showed us that her better self was found in the temperate month of November, not in the tar bubbling oven of May.  We forgave her for everything. We sat out in our reclining camp chairs in the sun, instead of cowering beneath its death rays. My mother and I even walked back in the desert, exploring dry washes, black entrances to rodent holes and sunburned volcanic rocks that proved to be red or grey when broken or turned over and had the fascinating clang of metal on metal if you threw another rock against it. This I did repeatedly to enjoy the unaccustomed sound. Anyone observing from afar would have thought I was completely mad, trying to punish the hillside or vent some deep seated rage.
R went out with Bob and the local boys and extremely tough girls, (I thought, for they ranged likely 55 to 80 years old)on quads for what turned out to be a bit more of an adventure than they had planned. There is no way we could have stayed out throughout the day on our last visit. It would have simply been too hot.
I soaked in the large jacuzzi at 3 am, examining the stars.
We shared some juicy grilled sirloin. We tried the new Restaurant down the road.  I bathed the dog in Mom’s tub and shaved her on the picnic table by our camper. temporary poodle cut till we get warmer nights. She looks like she has a jacket on.
I did yoga with Mom in a community room and learned some new moves.
We laughed at the dogs playing and we laughed at ourselves and each other as we usually do when we get together. Okay, okay, Quartzite, we will see you and your “desert rats” nested together in a social little neighborhood in the middle of nowhere again. Just when you are nice, say below 85 degrees.

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