Mancos, Colorado, part II

Well, I've been off the board for a week thanks to the joys of small town living. First the guy at the telephone company didn't believe that Mancos even existed, then he stubbornly refused to believe that the previous occupant of my apartment had passed on to greener pastures. I had telephone service for a while then it reverted back to Mr. P's new residence in heaven, apparently. I called the phone company and asked if they wanted a message from beyond the grave or a letter personally signed by God attesting to the fact that Mr. P. is no longer among us, and I finally got my phone and Internet service back. Thank you Mr. P for enlightening QWEST when I'm sure you have better things to do.

Anyhow, in the absence of the Internet, I've been having to make do with real people for this last week. This has been both enlightening and terrifying. I have been getting to know the rest of the people in my little apartment complex. One was on the wait list for two years and another waited for a year to get in as did I.

Everyone seems very grateful to have their homes. We each have a small patch of front and back lawn that we can do with as we please, and everyone without exception plants flowers and tends their lawns. Our little complex looks quite swank if I do say so myself.

My next door neighbor is a Zuni Indian who worked on the oil rigs all his life until one blew up with him on it and he almost died and dislocated both his shoulders as well as suffering a brain injury from falling 60 feet and landing on his head. Another neighbor has severe fibromyalgia which often keeps her bedridden and a third is 83 and suffering from cancer.

We are quite the spunky lot, tending our patches of flowers and lawns. I am deeply grateful to the Rural Development's home program for helping us all out. Thank you USA!