|At the Tomlin ridge-top cabin|
No need to even unhook the trailer... And while that might seem like a small thing, well, it isn't.
We had two great days that included red wine, dinner at a Mexican restaurant, watching 9-year-old Lizzie demonstrate her new-found prowess on roller skates and enough newspaper/journalism industry tale-swapping to file a book.
|Deer neighbors in Riudoso|
After Ruidoso I headed for Roswell, New Mexico, partly to simply check it out and also because I needed to get to some warmer weather. In Ruidoso at night it was about 35 degrees - up to maybe 60 in the daylight.
But the real reason was to immerse in the city-encouraged alien lore that permeates the town.
Yes, I have my eye on a few pieces.
As this is written, the sun is going down and everyone is huddled in their RVs, no doubt concerned about the rising wind and whether it portends some close encounter with the third kind.
After spending a half-hour in a bar waiting for my to-go dinner order, I think there's little reason for concern.
The space alien-weirdos were all swilling odd-colored drinks and unlikely to fly their saucers.
I wonder what the legal limit is for green-blooded creatures to launch vessels into the ionosphere?
|A rest-stop warning on the way to Riudoso|
|Farmer's Market in Roswell? Kee-rist, it was a Shur-Fine!|
|Sunset in Riudoso, New Mexico|
|The Red Writer at rest in Roswell, New Mexico|