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The Board of Directors Here at Spo-Reflections recently had one of their so-called ‘Seasonal Board Meetings’, which is done every few years (when they remember). It is followed by a staff meeting and sponsored luncheon and (if all goes well) nobody dies. They were unanimous they can’t figure out what the gods am I doing here these days. They found my earlier-this-week entries ‘Urspo tells a story’ dirty and the ‘Wuthering Heights’ treatise disgusting and they liked them a lot, but there seems to be no consistency with theme or content. I explained for the umpteenth time when you have the brains a hummingbird as I do and are trained in the classic psychoanalysis of free association, that happens. As part of my performance improvement plan, they locked me in one of their oubliettes for awhile – ‘until I shape up’ – whatever that means. I am writing this from deep below Heorot Johnsons II. Like Milo, I have for company The Which. She lent me her WiFi password, thus this entry.

Being in prison with nowhere to go gives one time plenty of time to think. It was Memorial Day weekend 2005 when we moved to Phoenix. That’s seventeen years ago. I celebrate the event each year by making macaroni salad and spareribs. This year the salad turned out well. I didn’t repeat the mistake I did last year to use whole-wheat pasta but proper generic elbow macaroni. I am being lazy and adventurous to cook the ribs first by boiling and then finishing them indoors in the oven. Standing outside in the ardent heat over hot coals (and high allergen counts) isn’t much fun.

The years I’ve lived in Arizona have been a blur, made possible by doing the same job/doing the same things over and over. While there are ‘seasons’ here they are not as obvious (or as nice) as the typical ones in the Midwest. Perpetual sunshine adds to the sense of time both not passing and whizzing by like a rocket.  The pandemic didn’t help, although this now feels like a dream – did it happen? 

Looking forward, there are no immediate great plans for the summer or the next twelve months. We will allow ourselves a few weekend trips by car. These allow us to not lose too much time away (both of us don’t get paid when we do not work) and we can turn run tail and drive home if Harper is having problems. We are both a bit fearful to get too far away from home lest she take a turn for the worst. She is never happy at the daycare centre and at times she stops eating, causing the keepers to raise alarms.

So begins my 18th year in the Southwest. The food is good if you like it spicy.* I would like Year #18 to have some shake ups if I can get help doing so. 

Meanwhile I sit with figurative and literal fetters and wonder what happens next and when I get released. Probably this evening. While my boisterous bosses enjoy locking people up they aren’t particular about keeping them in.  

*By now ‘Mexican food’ has been changed to ‘food’. It’s what’s on the menu.  

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May 2022

Spo-Reflections 2006-2018