September 30, 2005
Home, Home on the Range
On the way back to Sedona, my inveterately uncooperative bladder demanded that we stop nownownow, which is how we found ourselves here. Sure, we originally stopped merely to answer the call scream of nature but, as an aficionado of the weird, the extreme, and the mutated in the animal kingdom (don’t get me started on the recent photos of the giant squid…), I was compelled to shell out five smackers to see the white buffaloes, and dragged poor, long-suffering TMK along with me. (I think this is about when this started to qualify for what Anne of Creative Text(iles) would call an “aventure.”)
Quasi-philosophical, quasi-religious musing: These folks have, at last count, four white buffalo. Personally, I think much of the mysticism and symbolism of the white buffalo vanishes when you know they’re deliberately being “manufactured,” if you will. The buffalo don’t exist as the result of supernatural happenstance, a rare conjunction of Venus and Jupiter, or a visitation by White Buffalo Calf Woman; they exist because of calculated animal husbandry, because male buffalo A is allowed to chat up female buffalo B who is known to carry the white gene and eight, nine months later out pops—surprise!—yet another white buffalo! Exploitative and disrespectful of the Native American tradition, or a way of injecting, albeit artificially, more harmony and spiritual balance into the world, if you believe in that sort of thing? Discuss amongst yourselves. And have some kawfee.
Here, one of the white beige buffaloes in question. I believe this is the matriarch, the mother of the other three white beige buffaloes. (The brown males are in separate pens in the back. One of them stands 7(!) feet tall at the shoulder and is apparently murderously aggressive. We hustled past his corral quite quickly, stopping only long enough to pat Molly the Donkey because, really, who could resist that face?)
Here, gifts and ribbons left by those who have come to pay their respects to the buffaloes…
The truth be told, we bilagaana (Navajo for white dudes) were more intrigued by the pygmy goats, one of our most favorite farm animals, mostly because when Frankie stands near them—which she has had the opportunity to do—she doesn’t look so freakishly short. When I gave this very friendly cutie-patootie my patented “Ryan scritch”…he fell asleep standing up, right there in the back of the cart. Imagine him just as he is below, only with his eyes closed. (Note the prayer stick (?) behind him, again covered with offerings left by visitors.)
So, an unexpected aventure involving mutant mammals under our belts, we arrived back in Sedona and declared, what a Splendid and Magical Day; we must top it off with a Splendid and Magical Dinner! So off we motored again, confident in Sedona’s ability to provide us with a fabulous meal, one worthy of a day spent at the End of the World. Restaurant One: A half-hour wait. For pizza. Restaurant Two: No parking. Restaurant Three: Severely unappealing food, including “Beef Head (yes, “Head”) Burrito.”
So, after a day of soaring through the skies, looking upon the face of God, and humbly and completely revising long-held opinions about the Grand Canyon, a day full of awe-inspiring experiences and of making dreams come true, we hunkered down in our hotel room, each of us jealously guarding her Lunchable, her cup of chocolate pudding, and her plastic spoon.
Okay, I lied. Monday I’ll finish up the slide show, with Girls Go Shopping (during which time I make a dream I didn’t even know I had come true), a wild adventure/aventure with Mr. Ed (not the horse), Jerome, the Verde Canyon, more of Mongol LEE, and the Headcold That Ate New York.
In the meantime, so I don’t bore the bejeebers out of my readers who could care less about the Grand Canyon and think I’ve fallen completely off the knitting bandwagon, a picture of the Opal sock (colorway “Lollipop”) I worked on during vacation. Oddly, the colors in this sock echo exactly the colors of Arizona: The white of the aspen tree trunks and the clouds; the mustardy, golden brown of the deserts; the variegated greens of the cacti, the pines and the mesquite; the intense, clear blue of the skies; and the red of the rocks, the prickly pear cactus fruit and the bright flashes of color on the ruby throated hummingbirds. A coinkidink? I think not.
(P.S. A note to Patti. Don't let the photo of The Squirrel Who Lives at the End of the World fool you. Grand Canyon squirrels are shaped exactly the same as all other squirrels. This squirrel, however, was really serious about warming his belly. Five seconds before, he had been sitting up all round and three-dimensional like a normal squirrel; then he just flattened himself completely down to get as much of his furbelly as possible in contact with the warm rocks. Note that his front legs are sticking straight out in front of him and, in fact, although you can't see it in the photo, his hind legs are sticking straight out behind him. Methinks a squirrel can't get much flatter than that, unless he's been run over by a car.)
Remember the Pogo version of your title? "Oom, Oom, I'm Deranged"...
In defense of Sedona, there is no shortage of fine places to eat if one would just pick up one's cell phone and call one's cousin.
The "Beef Head Burrito" reminds me of one of many items I passed up on Mongolian menus: "Tongue of the Bovine Animal Salad".
Posted by: Cuzzin Tom on September 30, 2005 09:45 AMThat pygmy goat is sooooooo cute!! I just wanna hug it!! Can't wait to hear about Girls Go Shopping and the Headcold that Ate New York :)
Posted by: Courtney The Giggly on September 30, 2005 09:49 AM"hunkered down in our hotel room, each of us jealously guarding her Lunchable, her cup of chocolate pudding, and her plastic spoon." And WHAT, I ask you, could be more romantic than THAT?!
Yep. Definitely an aventure.
Also.
I'm jealous.
Though not of the chocolate pudding.
Posted by: Anne on September 30, 2005 12:24 PMNo, not of the chocolate pudding -- but the canyon AND the buffalo? Please. Too much.
Anyway -- here's my current favorite fact about the canyon: When the conquistadores showed up, the Hopi told them that they wanted to show them "a big river."
Ha! Ha ha ha!
The Spaniards nver did manage to get down to it.
Ha!
cheers me up no end, just thinking about it.
Posted by: Anne on September 30, 2005 12:42 PMHaving been bitten by a mischevous imp, I have to ask :) Is the wonder of a white buffalo any less wondrous just because you know how it's done? I know how to turn the heel on a sock but it seems miraculous to me every single time!
Posted by: Robbyn on September 30, 2005 01:08 PMThat was low Ryan...to come skulking over to my blog....bringing up Faina. Low.
I actually ran into her yesterday....whilst looking for other yarn. Her look was reproachful to say the least. I told her I had not forgotten her, really. That in fact, I may just drag her sorry self out of oblivion to work on when this new project gives me fits....which it is gar-un-teed to since I like to rush in headlong and not pay attention to the pattern....
Still...quite low of you. What, you didn't have anything better to do...Miss I-Only-Have-One-Project-On-The-Needles-At-Any-One-Time?? Miss When-You-Met-Me-My-Stash-Was-In-One-Small-Bag??
Snot. :)
Posted by: Lisa in Oregon on September 30, 2005 01:41 PMI'll not resort to name calling, but BLING might - I'm researching livestock rules in Snohomish county. Think I could tell her a goat would be answer to the blackberry problem?
Posted by: Elaine on September 30, 2005 01:45 PMLisa, Lisa, Lisa--if you're going to make me air ALL of my dirty laundry: I now have a stash that fills the floor of my upstairs loft bedroom. Yes, the floor, because I don't have a storage system. In fact there's a funny story about how the yarn gets up into the loft; I'll post it on the blog sometime. And I now have, let's see...four projects on the needles (which is a lot for me), if you don't include the Janine Pillow and Norgi Sweater, neither one of which will ever get seamed, I don't think.
Anne, your "aventure" term came in very handy during our trip! I warned TMK that she could plan the vacation until it screamed for mercy, but unexpected things would still happen. Sher 'nuff!
Robbyn, see, that's exactly the question I was struggling with. But I think, inherently, a white buffalo is supposed to be wondrous because it is supposed to be rare. If you can just pop one out whenever you want, what's the point? Where does the wonder come in? And yet... (And I'm with you on the heel thingy. The Arizona Sock is probably my 35th pair of socks, and I was just as fascinated by its heel as I was by heel #1.) P.S. I am VERY impressed by how you were actually able to create a link between white buffaloes and knitting.
Norma, it MIGHT have been romantic, if it hadn't been for the curled lips and the possessive snarling. MY chocolate pudding cup! MINE!
Courtney, there were some other goats, too, but they were contained in a little goat corral. However, the owners had given them a great goat "jungle jim" to climb and play on, and they were taking full advantage of it. So cute!
Elaine, I volunteer to goat-sit!!
Posted by: Ryan on September 30, 2005 01:55 PMBTW, your "squirrel at the edge of world" is your ubiquitous (found everywhere) Beechy Ground Squirrel. Very cute and absolutely pestiferous in some places.
Too bad you didn't take a picture of yourself knitting at the Edge of the World. It would win the "Extreme Knitting" prize, don't you think?
Posted by: Joan in Reno on September 30, 2005 03:09 PMDrat, Joan. What a faboo idea, and what an opportunity missed!
Posted by: Ryan on September 30, 2005 03:17 PMJust a good excuse to go again! Hmmmmm. That and see the Robed One (as long as he's still there).
Posted by: Joan in Reno on September 30, 2005 05:20 PMFor my two lepta, I think that even if white scientists are selectively breeding the Whitish Buffalo it doesn't mean they don't fulfill the prophecy. If I were God (things would be different yes they would...) I would use who or whatever was in My path to do what needed to be done.
The ground squirrel I saw when I was in the Southwest tottered out of her hole with five tumbling totally immature pups? cubs? whom she proceeded to watch with every symptom of exhaustion as befit as breast-feeding mother, and I will swear she was stretched out on the rock to take advantage of the heat of the day's worth of sun on her tired nipples. We could see them. I was with a weird then-husband and two mostly polite but radically bored children under ten and I sympathized sooo much...
Posted by: Laura J on September 30, 2005 05:50 PMbuffalos (aka bisons) fascinate me. in fact, one of my yahoo group mates bought some buffalo fiber, and sent it to me to spin! i can't wait! (after i finish one more charity thing, lol). i love the pictures you've taken and shown us. however, i do believe your choice in cuisine leaves just a tad bit to be desired (lunchables?!?!?!?).
Posted by: minnie on September 30, 2005 07:17 PM