I'm pretty bummed. One of the reasons I was as happy as a clam to have moved out here was because "here" is in the middle of all the ancient North American cultures and their descendants - and a stone's throw from the Aztec, the Maya and not all that far from the culture centers in south America. I have a fascination for thos things and I want to see them before I die ... as many of them as there is time for.
I was surfing around looking at archaeological sites on-line and came up with a very reasonable "dig with the pros" package in Northern Arizona. I showed it to Candy with the eagerness of a little boy showing his mommy the latest bug he'd found. I was crushed when I ran into the brick wall response of, "I don't think either one of us will ever be in good enough shape for something like that."
Personally, I don't think it's true. Personally, I have every hope that Candy's surgery will be a "fix" ... albeit temporary, but worth several years all the same. Personally, I don't believe I'm not in good enough shape to wield a trowel and brush or sleep out doors in a sleeping bag. But, personally, her answer took all the hope out of life. If we can't do something simple like that, what are we to do? Sit here and wait for death?
Both my parents died in their early eighties. I'm just about 60. That tells me I have about 20 years of sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. I can't imagine going off and doing something like that without Candy (she enjoys that kind of thins as much as I do) but the alternatives seem to be either do it alone or sit and wait for the cold to start up my legs.
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