Spouse Miscommunication? Naaaawwww!

A museum in Scottsdale, Arizona took notice of my blogging about our treks around Arizona, so Granpa decided that we should pay them a visit.  While we're in the area, he says, let's go to Old Tucson.  At least that's what I heard.

So, as the offical housing finder/hotel reservationist, I check out the road atlas and find a nice-sized town between Scottsdale and Tucson.  Casa Grande is right on the interstate, and the price is very right.

Granpa however, when we get there, is a bit miffed.  The long and the short of it is that he thought the museum was in Tucson, so why didn't we get a hotel in Tucson-proper.  It is my opinion that his brain was fixed on Old Tucson and therefore never heard "Scottsdale."

Regardless, we got sidetracked from even those things six ways from the middle, so our whole trip was laughable confusion.  I was very impressed with both Granpa and I for how we muddled through the trip without ever losing patience with each other. First things first I suppose is the best way to share this adventure.

With daylight left, Granpa decides he wants to go west just a tad and check out something he saw on the road atlas:  Sonoran Desert National Monument.  So we begin the drive west on Hwy 84. Remember the word, "Desert."  What we discover are miles of plowed fields with beautiful sprouting green plants.

Then I notice something very familiar along the roadside: it looks exactly like tufts of cotton from cotton fields back home!  THEN I see something I really know!  Cotton bales!!

Cotton?  Really?  Growing in the Sonoran Desert???  Who knew?  Really!  Who knew this and never told anyone!  And when we slow down and look closer, there's even a cotton gin up and running. Behind the gin, I see something I have not seen before.  Round bales of processed cotton.  Very cool.

And not very far down the road at all we see a second thing that surprises both of us:  feed lots jam packed with cattle.  Oh, the stink is unimaginable!  (This is what Ft. Worth, Texas used to be famous for.  Ranchers would bring their cattle to Ft. Worth and pen them in feed lots to fatten them for sale while waiting for trains to take them - or their carcases - to markets north and east.  That's how Ft. Worth got its nickname:  Cow Town.  The feed lots are long gone to more rural areas now but city fathers have clung to the nickname and made a tourist attraction out of it.  Trust me, this smell is not conducive to tourism!)

Cotton fields require a lot of water; Cattle require a lot of water - and there are a whole lot of cows here.  In the desert.  Where there is no water.  I'm also confused by the fact that these all look like Jersey's - dairy cattle - and they take even more water.  (Why would there be so many dairy cattle up for slaughter?  Maybe a cattle rancher or dairy farmer that reads this will be able to tell me.) (Maybe they're not Jerseys?)

So, as you can see, we are well down the path of distraction six ways from the middle...

Beyond these surprises we drive and drive and drive and all we see are Saguaro cactus in the Sonoran Desert National Monument.  We love Saguaro, but we thought there would be more to see like a Visitors Center or something spectacular like the Crested Saguaro.  (See my blog posts, http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2013/12/crested-saguaro.html and http://thetravelerstwo.blogspot.com/2013/12/saguaro-national-park.html )  They are so cool!  I spend my time checking the tips of all the Saguaro I can lay my eyes on, but nary a one is crested.  Granpa is a bit frustrated, but consoles himself at Golden Corral, and we go back to the hotel.  Praise the Lord for His wisdom and vision:  Tomorrow is a new day!