Archimedes

While sitting in a bath tub, my friends came to some conclusions in Eureka Springs, Ark. One could be that I do not care to take baths that are not scalding. Ditto for hot tubs outdoors. They enjoyed themselves enough, though in the water, and I am delighted and full o'gratitude for the 86 hours of life away from life.

It's been so long.

Renewed by counting hawks along the highways, walking up and down steep-pitched hills and playing with three beautiful women-bodied souls, I didn't even get irritated when one of the paper's columnists called Monday to simply say "hi."

He and his cat were looking out the window. Pretty nice for a Monday afternoon; I was not facing any windows, but scrambling to write a bland, no-source story to fill a hole in the paper at 2 p.m. (We had left for Arkansas on Friday, and I drove two hours to meet them to drive five hours to get there, so Sunday night I got home at 9 p.m. Work started at 5 a.m.)

Do not expect to find springs in Eureka Springs, though at one time there were 62 or so. What remains are Victorian houses perched along a series of switchback loops along a slight mountainside. It seemed that half of the homes were operated as bed and breakfasts, and that half of those were for sale.

I am exaggerating, just as I did when the jets in the bathtub sprayed water all over the place and I repeatedly exclaimed, "It's a tragedy!" while wiping up the floor. We laughed supremely then, which makes finding out that Manuela keeps a really clean floor more than worth the wet clothes. (Manuela: the cryptic printed signature under the crooked printed sentence "Gratuities are always appreciated" on an envelope on the dressing table.)

On Friday night we set out after dark on foot and had no idea where we were going. There seemed to be no one around, and it's accurate to say the town is quite quiet. The trolley bus is loud, but that's about it. Deer wander though every evening.

Over the next two days, more walks and a couple of drives would unfold the town's structural mystery. Eureka Springs still has a bit of mysterious charm. It's a fairy town, a European trinket set down in the middle of the upper United States south. There were a few Confederate flags to be seen, and of course, the giant Jesus of the Ozarks statue, towering arms outstretched over the trees in the distance.

That first night, in the first few minutes of our moonlit ramble, two of my friends crossed a street to a candle shop. Becky and I were 15 feet or so behind them, drawn along as if attached. They disappeared through the door, and, as if the thread were snapped, Becky and I suddenly stopped in our tracks and were left alone in the darkness.

What did we see?

Two skulking figures, clad in trench coats and with ski masks pulled over their faces, came out from the shadowy sidewalk by the store. They began doing stage whispers, "Do they see us? Do you think they have the stuff?" but not before a too-long pause and a thousand scenarios of fear whipping through my little head. We said nothing.

Were they pretending to be robbers? Were they going to try it on us? It was surreal; to encounter a masked person - two in this case, teenagers and perhaps coed - outside of Halloween is frightening. They continued across our path and we scurried into the candle place when they were half up the hill.

It was an odd introduction.

Some of the sidewalks in Eureka Springs are time-worn limestone. Some would launch you over the edge of a cliff if you missed a step.

There are spas, there is a liberal bookstore, there is a biker bar, a former cancer hospital converted back to a hotel, room 214 haunted by the first worker who fell and died during that construction. There is a puppet shop, restaurants, Bath Junkie, a hippie store that sells hermit crabs, incense, statuettes and jewelry, and a place that specializes in stones.

Becky's main goal, besides a change of scenery, travel and love, was to get new minerals and rocks. We followed along, and I spent money shamelessly on things mined from the ground shamelessly. They are not priced to reflect the damage extraction does to the earth. Labor involved is not well-paid, I read. However, the chemical arrangements created by unthinkable pressure, time and heat are inspiring. People use them for meditation, therapy, decoration, energy, etc.

Pictured above is just some Flourite. It bothered me to look at it, so I got it. I got some "calming" amethyst for my co-workers and gave my boss a chunk of Selenite, which is said to help one advance in business.

I gave my husband Aragonite, orange psuedohexigonal branches, said to help with focusing creativity.

In two days we'll be eating turkey bird and wishing on a bone that "the holidays" come and go without bother.