Thoughts

Spent most of the day alternately dozing and watching bits of a "Firefly" marathon on cable's Ovation channel, though I did get some laundry done, including the duck for lining jinbaori.

A little mopy about missing Twelfth Night, not seeing friends and not getting to swan around in my new bits, but this way I guess they'll premiere at Investiture. And at least I haven't infected anyone with whatever this bug is.

Thinking a bit about the Grand Canyon/Estrella trip. I just ordered a replacement LCD screen for my camera, which I've been meaning to do forever. 
If I start driving out on Friday after work and overnight in Barstow, I could take my time driving the Saturday leg and perhaps detour through the scenic bits around Sedona or Flagstaff before heading up to the Canyon. There are plenty of inexpensive motel options in Barstow.

Reservations have been booked for the Bright Angel Lodge. My friend Nancy and I shared one of the cabins nearly 20 years ago, and I recall ending up in the lodge bar with the two wranglers from our mule ride instead of going to dinner. This time I booked into one of the lodge rooms, it being a little more budget friendly. 

Traveling alone and not being stupid means not attempting winter hikes into places I'm not in shape for. The Rim Trail is open in the winter,  parallels a paved road with multiple shuttle bus stops (allowing for a semi dignified retreat if conditions - including mine - warrant). Another possibility may be bike rental.  Hm, note to self, a Thermos may be a good idea, not to mention making sure I pack/wear enough layers for a place that gets a real winter. All plans are going to be subject to weather conditions no matter what, it being February at 6200 feet, give or take.

As an aside, I mentioned my plans to a friend at work, whose immediate comment was "You're so brave." She probably has never gone anyplace without friends or family along. Me, I've been living alone a big chunk of my life, so it's often go alone or don't go.  I can't help remember driving the leg from Needles to Barstow in January 2002. I'd been hauling a U-haul from New Jersey, alone except for interactions with waitresses and motel desk clerks for days, patting the dash and telling 'Tite Blanche she was a good girl. I had a cell phone and a CB radio, a full tank of gas, 2 gallons of water and a cooler with snacks in it, tunes on the tape deck, and I was certain I was going to die in the Mojave. Absolutely possessed by the sort of Nameless Dread (TM) you read about in Poe and Lovecraft. That's the thing about irrational fears, they don't HAVE to abide by logic. Gaius insisted this was proof I had died out there in a past life. I think it was probably the sheer magnitude of that stretch of desert and four days of solitude. Every time I crested a rise, there'd be more desert. It looked like it went on forever, like I'd never be able to get across it. Now, with several runs to Estrella under my belt (none of which convinced me I was going to die, BTW), I can't help thinking I have to drive that stretch of I-40 again and wonder what it'll be like.