A-Nony-Mous, 60,000 people
Dec. 28, 2012

Just when I think I have things planned and settled and all is comfortable and known, then sometimes it isn’t.  And for us just now, it isn’t, which is okay but different.  Now I am feeling pretty anonymous, very unusual after living in the same town for 35 years and scarcely being able to go anywhere in the region without seeing multiple people I know and experience places that are familiar - kind of a warm snuggy feeling. 

I am told there approximately 60,000 additional people, transient workers (60,002 if you count Chris and me) in this area, utilizing an infrastructure developed for 60,000 fewer people.  Doesn’t take much imagination to conjure the congested conditions on roads, in stores and pretty much everywhere.  We are in the Permian Basin (I’ll let you look it up; it’s the underlying geologic structure), thus many business names incorporate “Permian”, “Basin”, “Midland”, “Odessa” or “Midessa”.

I have discovered that I am able to venture out into an unknown city in crazed traffic with unfamiliar driving situations and continue to function as a fully competent adult.  Admittedly, it is odd zooming along looking for things I need having no idea where they may be whilst dodging this way and that and keeping a close eye on who is changing lanes, pulling out in front of me and slowing down.  Today, I found a car wash (I even remember it is north of Wadley on Big Springs), a drug store, a dollar store (in a bad part of town - kinda nervous making), a water dispensary, got back to the downtown library where I obtained a library card and checked out a book) and back to the HEB, easily the most frenetic grocery I’ve ever entered.

The young men at the car wash could not remove my radio antenna nor could I so we went ahead with crossed fingers.  Expected scenario tonight: Chris comes home, says “Oh good, you washed the car” (it was the dirtiest car in town after three dust storms laid a thick layer of white caliche on it and a light sprinkle set it like cement and the birds that I was - past tense - feeding deposited their droppings all over it) and I say, “Yes, that’s the good news.”  I suspect I will not be listening to the radio in the car anytime soon.

Now the HEB: One lines up for a parking space, lines up to get inside, lines up to pay and lines up to get out the door.  It is huge and wonderful.  Stupendous garden shop, bakery, cheese shop, produce section, dairy: fresh baked bread of all kinds, tortillas being made before your very eyes, samples to make you not miss Costco and more stuff than I’ve ever seen in a grocery - very fun, just don’t try it in a hurry.

Water dispensary is to save some bucks that we’ve been spending on bottled water.  On C’s first morning here, he noticed an oil slick on his coffee and was quickly converted to bottled water.

Brrrrr . . .

Time out to whine - temp this a.m. is 28 degrees and we have not heat nor hot water because we ran out of propane last night.  Chris: “I was just so happy you were here I forgot to check it”.  Oh well, any excuse in a storm.  We do have an electric radiator for backup so there are no icicles hanging off my nose but it’s damn shivery in here as we await the office opening at 9.

Local attractions . . .

I check the Midland RV Park website and see a tab marked “local attractions”.  Anticipatorily, I click it to discover what awaits me in the discovery world: Blank.  Yes, a big white page with nothing.  I check again; perhaps the internet wasn’t loading correctly.  Yup, still blank.

Not only are there no local attractions, it’s a billion miles to anywhere. 

No matter, we figure out something and take a jaunt off to see what we can see.  Mostly what we see out of town is more oil wells and vast seas of mesquite-covered plains. 

Monahans Sand Hills State Park, private property, birds, Roy . . .

For a break, we find a mono-scenery within the larger mono-scenery: the Monohans sand hills.  We have been here only briefly previously, so determine to explore at more length.  The opportunity to walk somewhere is overwhelming for me.  I am so accustomed to turning my nose any direction at home and setting off cross-country on an explore.  That is not possible in this great state; virtually every square inch is private and posted or private and posted.  The rare exceptions are seashore (none of that anywhere around Midland, aptly named) and State parks a la Monahans.


Back to the desert within a desert: We spot quite a surprising number of birds while we’re driving in, so set off afoot with binoculars, spotting scope and bird book - freed of sitting in the trailer or sitting in the car.  The place fascinates and provides excellent exercise both: walking up and down sand dunes is quite the workout.  Who would guess there would be so much wildlife in these Sahara-like surroundings but an abundance of critter prints proves it so.




The sport of choice at the sand dunes is disking.  The day was too chilly for me to try it, but the younger set was having quite a time sliding downhill and trudging back to the top to do it again.

We manage to identify a few birds while there: Brewer’s blackbird, kestrel, northern mocking bird, western wood peewee, chipping sparrow, spotted towhee, white-crowned sparrow, raven, western scrub jay, house sparrow and a amazingly: a life bird, the sage thrasher.

An avian aside: at “home”, we had house sparrows, house finches, white-winged doves, a cardinal and a million common and great-tailed grackles.  I say had because I have removed the feeder due to the overwhelming numbers of feathered friends and their messes.

Once when Texas cousin Art was visiting in Arizona, I mentioned how much I enjoyed the grackles at my house, especially when they came to devour the hordes of cicadas, and he opined strongly the opposite.  Okay, now I get it: they are legion here and they are large, raucous, messy pests that gather by the thousands.

Venturing on, we check out various abandoned buildings (a particular fascination of mine) and old neighborhoods in Monahans, Pyote and Wink. 























I love Monahans' street signs with a metal galloping horse scene atop each one.








Chris was fascinated by the Pyote Town Hall, about the size of my bedroom and office.  I followed the signs to their museum but it was no more or at least not right now.


















Wink was interesting, to say the least.

It houses a Roy Orbison museum, it being that singer’s boyhood home, a facility open only by appointment; one surmises that may not be often. 












Also in Wink was this scene that still has us scratching our heads - bundles of some kind of paper stacked at the top of a building whence they are about to topple out onto the sidewalk because the facade is missing.  I’d give a quarter to anyone who could explain this to me.