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IT WAS 105 DEGREES IN THE SHADE yesterday when the Yard Man and I left Phoenix. We had risen and dressed, and I had feverishly worked at consolidating my luggage. Both of us had gained a few items on the trip--a tee shirt or two, a book, some knick-knacks, and gifts for our dear Little Actor. That Yard Man, however, he didn't have a problem; he just stuffed everything more tightly into his one bag, sat on it and pulled the zipper closed. But I knew that I had some serious rearranging to do. Along with jeans and a shirt, I put on my vest and my jacket and my sneakers--the bulkiest and heaviest clothing I had with me. My bag of rocks, you see, was taking up more space than I could spare, and weighing me down.

I knew there would have to be some eliminations. So into the motel sink I dumped all the rocks, and got them wet to show their best colors. Hmm, I pondered which ones I could possibly part with, and, oh, it was tough!
Finally I picked out ONE that I thought I could leave behind.

(But now I'm begging of you, Dear Reader. If you happen to pass the Comfort Inn on Black Canyon Highway in Phoenix, please do me a favor. Go right on up to the third floor room, 351, and get me that pretty red rock that I left on the railing outside the door. I'd be ever so grateful!)








I staggered through two airports with my carry-on luggage, and sweated under my layers of clothing...but the rest of those rocks made it safely home with the yard man and me...





...and my handful of black and white pebbles, too!


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