So, after I finished the Eggs Benedict, we explored the resort. It’s in southwest pueblo style, as is everything in Albuquerque.
Victorian House trapped in a Pueblo body
We got all excited exploring the resort because these signs suggested there might be wildlife.
There WAS some type of red insect that chattered as it flew; I don’t know what it was even after researching it for 90 minutes. And when I get to this next part, you’ll see why I’m stalling.
So here we were encroaching on the sacred lands, on this trail, right about here:
… and my body decided to reject the Eggs Benedict which I THOUGHT were sitting comfortably in my lower GI tract.
Of course, I turned on my heel and started back for the hotel. The hotel, far, far away.
Along the way I communed with nature.
Nearby scrub-brush: “Hi!”
Brain: “Ignore the scrub-brush.”
Bowels: “Oh, hi there, scrub! You look helpful.”
Feet: (Move faster.)
Brain: “No no no no no.”
Bowels: “Could I go over by those bush –“
Brain: “NO.”
Bowels:”Please?”
Brain: “NO!”
Bowels: “Plllleeeeease.”
Brain: “…maybe.”
And you know as soon as that thought enters your brain, even as speculation, you are doomed.
Yes, he took a photo of me wading into the brush. Then he looked discreetly away as I made my contribution to the desert ecosystem.
Then the next day, we attempted the same trail, again saw no wildlife, and this time Gary was the one heading back for the hotel. I was left outside to look for wildlife and there was none. There weren’t even hummingbirds in the Hummingbird Garden. And then I realized, there are no wild animals here, so there are no animals that I could blame for my scat.
Scientists, analyzing my deposit: “What type of animal dropping is this in the weeds? It isn’t a puma … or a coyote.”
“Cougar?”
“Only if it’s a really big fat one.”
“We might have a new non-native species making its habitat here. We’ll have to clear it out.” And then countless government resources would be wasted trying to track my spore back to Missouri. I’m confessing here so if the New Mexico balance of nature is destroyed, you know who to blame.
Of course, by the time I came out of my own private resort toilet, Gary had found these disposable waste baggies:
8 responses to “Eggs Benedict, Continued”
Noble of you to worry about the scientists. Me, I’d’ve concentrated all my worry on the prospect of lowering my bottom into undergrowth seething with rattlesnakes. (Comic Sans rattlesnakes, too: the very worst kind.) Inserting a thin layer of plastic bag between buttock and fang would have been neither here nor there.
Some lessons are learned the hard way. I may have to bring emergency kleenex to the Katy Trail. At lease Creve Coeur park has restrooms.
Note to self – purse pack of baby wipes are a GREAT idea.
I laugh, but it is a laugh of commiseration. My worst-ever GI flare was on a 2.5 hours car trip after 11 pm when most roadside stops are closed. A friendly bush would have been ideal. *hugs*
Hmm. Are you Gary’s pet, or vice versa?
It’s one thing to do it, but a totally different thing to publish it to the world. Thank you for not telling us at lunch.
Those bags are for the dog.The first picture reminds me of Arrested Development.
Big Dot – Priorities. Poop or death? Mershy – But are there enough restrooms?Tami – I wiggled during. It was effective.Elisabeth – Ow. Sorry to hear it. I did see a man on the way back from Chicago today make the open car door – blanket tent for his son.Magpie – Funny story. I was on the plane berating Gary for not telling me where my glasses were, and the woman in fornt of us looked at her husband in horror and pantomimed the whip-crack. Caroline – Thank YOU for noticing I didnt. Hot Mom- Ha! Didnt think of it but yes.