Road Trip Part 4

Although I brought my laptop with me, there are a couple of reasons why I waited until I got home to start posting about our trip. The main reason is that it felt so good to be away from a computer screen, I could barely bring myself to take my laptop out of its case, let alone turn it on. Brad told me that there was a wireless connection at their house, however, and said I was welcome to use it anytime. Old habits die hard, so I took him up on it one morning and rode my motorcycle to the ranch for computer time and coffee.

“Did you see the new baby?” Jandy asked when I arrived.

“No,” I said, and turned toward the field.

“Right outside, that little black guy right there was born about a half hour before you got here.”

“You’re kidding.” I put my computer down, and headed toward the field with my camera. “How close can I get to them?” I asked, not wanting to intrude on the tender moment.

“About 10 feet is okay,” said Jandy.

I climbed the fence, approached slowly, and stayed on the far side of ten feet. Probably closer to twenty.

I returned to the house and prepared to upload the photos to my laptop and post something resembling a “live update.” But as soon as I did, Deborah called to tell me that Joanne was going to a clinic about her eye — she’d broken a blood vessel the day before and the white of her eye was entirely red. Her pharmacist suggested she go to the nearby clinic. (Nearby meaning over thirty miles away.) Deborah was going with her, but since Deborah doesn’t have a driver’s license, she suggested that I go, too, in case Joanne came away with a patch on her eye and needed someone else to drive.

“No problem,” I said, and packed up my things. “Sorry to rush, Jandy.”

“No problem. Call us later and let us know how Joanne makes out. We’ll see you later tonight for dinner.”

As I left the house, only about a half hour after I arrived, the little black baby alpaca was already walking. “Deborah is going to be so jealous,” I said.

She was, but as I mentioned earlier, the babies were arriving left and right, so she had plenty of opportunities to see some fresh ones of her own. Like this one, for insance:

Later that night, as we sat on Brad and Jandy’s porch having a delicious homemade grilled salmon dinner, we watched the young alpacas frolic in the field as their mothers grazed lazily, casting long shadows across the green grass as the sun slowly sank behind the hills. Deborah asked if they had names for all the babies yet.

“Nope,” said Brad. They were coming so quickly, they hadn’t had time. “Why? Do you have some ideas?”

“How many names do you need?” said Deborah.

Brad did some quick counting. “Eighteen.”

Deborah read off a bottle of hot sauce that was sitting on the table: “How about Habanero?” she said.

“We’ve had a Habanero,” said Brad, and then he listed several other hot sauce words that they’d gone through over the years. Seemed like they’d covered them all.

“How about Fabio?” I suggested. “Have you had a Fabio?”

“No. We have not had a Fabio.”

Judging from his reaction, I doubt they ever will.

“We’ll come up with a list and email it to you,” said Deborah.

Brad laughed. “I very much look forward to seeing that list, Deborah.”