The Extra in Ordinary

Over the course of time, we've found ways to entertain ourselves and mark progress on the long drive into Albuquerqe.  For most people, for instance, this is just a stop sign.  Around here, a stop sign serves
as both a stop sign and a target.  This stop sign has seen some action.

The back of the stop sign.

For us, it marks the first turn on our way to the city.

These are things that are so unique to our prior experience, that they stand out to us.

The mailboxes without any houses nearby.

These mailboxes mark our second turn at the end of Riley Road.  It seems to me there are about 20 mailboxes on this particular unit, and, for the life of me, I can't find a house in sight.  Every time we turn, we wonder who checks them.  We've never seen anyone.  Just like we've never seen anyone at the School Bus Stop signs.

We also have never seen a cow crossing at the cow crossing signs.  In fact, I'm not sure we've even seen a cow in the neighboring fields which are all, by the way, surrounded by fences.

The sign indicating cows should cross backwards here.

Even among cow crossing signs, this one stands out. Across the street, there is another sign posted in the same manner.  They are insistent:  cows crossing here must cross tail first.  After they jump the fence.

We thought this sign was posted incorrectly by a road worker (probably home-schooled) until we discovered another set similarly posted about 5 miles away.  Now we're just puzzled.  Is this yet another example of Friday night entertainment?  We'd heard there was nothing to do around here on the weekends.

For us, this means that we are just about to the curvy road.  This is the road that cuts 30 minutes off our trip downtown by subbing in a 30-mile stretch of road that curves every inch of the way.  For the people in the front row, it is almost fun.  For the people in the back row, it wreaks havoc.  

As we turn, I call out, "We're starting the 30 miles of twisty-turny road, get yourselves situated (code for stop reading, drawing, or doing just about anything)."  I am met with groans every time.  "Why do we have to take this way."  "I'm carsick."  "Mom, can we pull over."  And, of course, "How much longer?"

This sign tells us that we are almost done with the curvy road.  Every time we pass it, I wonder about that trail and bemoan the scarcity of sense in my sense of direction.  I'd planned on going on many more hikes (we call them 'adventures') than we have thus far, but my proclivity for going off with confidence in the wrong direction holds me back.

Inevitably, I start thinking about getting a gps for hiking.  I begin to wonder if a gps could really give someone like me a sense of direction & suspect not... and then we're at I-40.  The ride is practically over, the complaining winds down, and we're there.  Ready for another day of fun & exploration.