And the road goes on forever...

Thursday, January 8, 2009


It’s always so quiet here in the desert at night. I awake hearing only the soft breeze through the open window by my face. There is no traffic noise, no rush of people off to work, no animals save for the occasional hoot owl, and most glaringly for me, no continual background roar of the ocean nearby. For the first time in more than a month, I have started missing the sea and the green evergreens with their jagged tops and thick, silent brooding.

What got me thinking about it was that Marc and I applied for long term jobs here yesterday. We’re probably safe in that it is fairly far along in the hiring process for this organization so our chances are very slim. They are opening a new Indian casino/resort and the top positions have already been filled. Not that there’s anything wrong with the “little” people jobs like busser, dishwasher and housekeeper, but it’s career level jobs we’re after and for that we must be willing to travel anywhere to live.

The desert can be a nice and close second to the sea, so we will continue our efforts here as long as we can. After all, it would be a huge advantage to us to be able to live on our own land free of charge. As I suspected all along, I have indeed missed it. I think sometimes as an RVer it can get tiresome that we always trod someone else’s patch of dirt since typically we’re on public property or in an RV park. There is just something special about knowing that this patch is mine, to do with as I please with no rules, that make me covet it more. It’s a wonderful respite from RV parks.

The quietness of our neighborhood is very seductive. We tiptoe out to use our spa every morning while the skies are black with pinpoints of starlight we rarely see at the coast. Sometimes we’re in it long enough to see the mountain to the east blaze with the orange and mauve of the coming sun, signaling another gloriously clear day in this sunniest spot of the entire United States. My face and arms are growing darker with color—it’s been years since they’ve worn a tan and my endorphins have been on high alert with their overdose of Vitamin D. Life in the desert, for now, is very good.