Itchyhitch What's New

Quartzsite Rocks!

2012-01-08T05:57:00.000-07:00

Since stumbling upon what I’ve come to find out is chrysocolla out in the desert, I’ve developed a sudden and ardent interest in learning more about rocks and minerals. What better place than right up the road in Quartzsite—that den of 100,000 wintertime RVers and probably 1000 vendors, many of whom sell rocks and minerals from all over the world this time of the year. Traffic was light as I left at dawn which is now late at nearly 7:30 for the 85 mile drive. Arriving before the masses I was able to immediately meet and question a couple of purveyors who were very helpful in trying to identify the specimens I took in to them. From the barrels and barrels full of it I noted throughout the day, chrysocolla is fairly common in Arizona and is a very low grade form of copper. It can take many forms and colors of turquoise to vivid blues, often appearing as though it is just a paint spatter on the rest of the rock. It is fairly soft and must have stabilizer added in order for it to be useful for jewelry making.

The first step for many jewelers and beaders is to purchase cabochons of all sorts and sizes offered by all the rock purveyors. A cabochon is a gemstone without facets that is highly polished and has rounded edges. Many of the vendors cut and polish their own but some also come from far off countries. Many will be found unadorned but others are wrapped in silver ready to be made into necklaces and available to the average person to just place on a chain to wear, as I did with mine when I got home and had the perfect bead chain to match. Cabochons are sold by the piece and also by grams of weight. My piece went for $2/gram so cost $20 as an example. Seeing tray after tray of such beautiful artwork made of rock is very tempting, but could get expensive. The average cabochon shown in this photo ran between $35-45.

All vendors usually offer what they call “rough” and finished product. Rough is the rock as it is mined or gathered, often times very nondescript on the outside but holding surprising beauty inside. These are offered by the piece, pound, bucket or even the entire pallet full for those who wish to cut and polish and fashion their own art. Depending upon the size and characteristics of the rock--bookends, thin slabs for specimen display, candlesticks, urns, or figurines are all made. I was astounded to see just how many customers jumped from dealer to dealer looking for just the right “roughs” to take home. Rock hounding, art, and jewelry making is very big business!

So big in fact, that a lot of the vendors are from overseas. There were Ethiopian opals with very obvious Ethiopian sellers. There was a fabulous section from Australia, filled with the most unusual rocks and the lilting accents of Crocodile Dundee’s pals who were ever helpful to the buyers. Probably my favorite sight of the entire day was this huge slab (from Australia) with lead running through it that shimmered and shimmied in the sunlight like something molten. As I recall, I think the price was about $10,000.

Of course at this time of year, Quartzsite isn’t all about rocks. There are hundreds and hundreds of vendors catering to the masses of RVers with everything for sale you could possibly think of. They ply their trades in several areas with names like Tyson Wells, Rice Ranch and the Main Event and are spread throughout the main drag which parallels the freeway. A person would need several days to get through it all. Need a walking stick? This guy brought a bunch of raw diamond willow sticks out from Wisconsin and Michigan and invited you to purchase one and carve your own! Prices are shown on the end of the stick. He was doing a booming business I might add. A person could enjoy a gastronomic delight as I did for lunch. Yeah, the Deep Fried Vegetable stand did it for me as I gorged on fried artichoke hearts, usually a hard find in any area excepting the Salinas Valley of California. Across the way they were firing up the BBQ for BushRods tri tip sandwiches and ribs. For those wanting to skip lunch and go straight for the refreshments there was a down home style outdoor beer bar.

All in all, considering it was a day without Marc along, I still had a wonderful time and learned a lot more about rocks and the specimens I have found. Now I’m itchy to find more.

Happy New Year Folks!

2011-12-31T06:08:00.000-07:00

Ah, as 2011 comes to a close, we breathe a sigh of relief that it’s over. Another lost year of life for the most part, but at least I accomplished getting my business off the ground and it is thriving. It continues to keep me about as busy as I care to be at my age since it is so very demanding physically, especially on my bad back.

The good news as we face the incoming New Year is that Marc got called to do a real job finally for a contractor who specializes in building or remodeling restaurants. Marc leaves tomorrow with the little RV for a three week stint at helping to remodel a Chili’s restaurant in north Phoenix, with another one in Mesa to follow at a later date. From the looks of things, work for this contractor could be intermittent and short term since the restaurant remodels are on an extremely strict deadline with heavy penalties to the contractor if the deadlines aren’t met. Since restaurants also must remain open for business that means Marc will work a graveyard schedule, keeping him up all night and sleeping all day. He sure doesn’t look forward to that. Other locations the contractor is bidding on include the San Francisco Bay Area, so there is the potential for Marc to become a road warrior if this works out. Given my business I won’t have the liberty of joining him, so we once again would be back to living separately, which totally sucks.

But today I’ll concentrate on the bright beginning to the New Year, which is that for three blissful weeks Marc will have a real paycheck. We are thankful for that after so many years of unemployment. We hope you all have a bright beginning to your new year and that it brings peace, good health, and all that you wish for.

Mittry Lake Wildlife Area

2011-12-25T17:31:00.000-07:00

The autumnal color tones defy the date, December 23, as we arrive via a winding dirt road to a more-or-less partially hidden free campsite by Mittry Lake; a part of the Colorado estuary system just twenty miles from home. We are in one of the last available spots before the road diverges from the lakeshore although we are not exactly sitting on the lake, but above it and separated by a wide expanse of elephant grass and reeds; the view sublime. The reeds rustle and dance in the day’s wind; wind which makes it cool to be outside so we settle in and relax in our comfy camp trailer.

Marc gets up sometime during the night to start our small propane catalytic heater as the forecast was for temps as low as 38 but once the sun is up and with the winds much calmer; it feels fine out in my layered clothing for another hike. Right across the dirt road is a seeming canal which widens to pond stature as we meander along the shoreline road. We spy what we think are carp in the very clear water, and an egret looking to feed. We veer off on a mountainside rocky trail which abruptly dead ends at an area some miner has dug out of the hillside. The view from here is truly spectacular as we can look across Mittry to the habitation of the Yuma Proving Grounds base and far off RVs gathered together at Senator Wash, a BLM long term area.

The day passes languidly into Christmas Eve dinner and a long night, and Christmas dawns clear and serene. It is a joy just to sit outside in the low-rising sun and watch the birdlife and tranquil water under azure skies. We have a big breakfast but leave room for our special lunch—Carne Asada, which has been marinating in the fridge for two days. Marc throws it on the BBQ, where it becomes our main Christmas Day feast. Soon enough, the weekend ends and we must head for home.

Mittry Lake is eye candy at this time of year with golden hued beauty in all the surrounding vegetation and seemingly hundred mile views of the distant barren hills. However, unless one is fishing, it does lack in things to do besides taking it easy and also the dirt road has quite a lot of traffic going by so the privacy factor is not what we are normally used to when boondocking. This has probably been a onetime camp spot for us.

Silent Bliss; Tumco Revisited

2011-12-20T06:56:00.001-07:00

Up the rocky inclined dirt road past Tumco Mine, we find a spot off to ourselves tucked against quartz striated rock mountains. Their barrenness is otherworldly as they passively protect our presence for our most recent three day camping trip. We’re in the silence of the desert wildness where just about the only thing we’ll hear for two days and nights is the wind and each other.

This area is public BLM land so open to camping for fourteen day stretches free of charge but this blustery windy day, a Friday afternoon after we’ve finished in Algodones, we find ourselves the only ones here. Quite a change from the groups gathered over Thanksgiving when we were last in the area.

We sleep in on Saturday, a guilty pleasure I never get to indulge in, but finally the cats, so long overdue on feeding time, get so insistent they won’t wait a moment longer for their breakfasts. We’re doing a trial run without using the generator and our standby coffeepot is a range-top percolator which takes quite awhile to come to a boil. Once we finish with our own breakfasts we set off to explore some of this early mining country on foot. The dirt roads fork out in all directions so we head deeper into the cut into the mountains, the left fork, riddled with excavations and shafts from gold mining.

The hiking is pleasant, gradually gaining elevation but petering out on a left fork we take at a cliff-hugging trail which ascends to an obvious mine. Marc is not in hiking shoes and the rocky climb gets a little too serious for his footwear so we turn back. Far off on the valley floor with the telephoto on my camera I can see the Imperial Sand Dunes light and shimmering.

After a hearty BLT on chibata sandwich for lunch, we decide to tackle more hiking; the back route into the Tumco Mine area, which we feel is the right road fork. On my previous visit I only scratched the surface of the contained area which is fenced off, and doesn’t allow vehicle passage. The rest of these roads are numbered for off-road use, although in our entire weekend we were only passed by two ATVers.

By now, the clouds have passed and the wind has died somewhat so we enjoy warm enough hiking in sunshine until late in the afternoon when clouds once again bag up the sky. I am overjoyed to come across a much more substantial ruin than in my first visit but disappointed to see every lime plaster inch left intact on the brick walls covered in graffiti. Why do people feel the need to deface an antiquity in such a manner? Are the vast majority of us so brain dead that it escapes us that this is something that can never be brought back once defaced?

Following Marc along the northern edge skirting the mountains, we pass through a large section of tall tailings now eroded into mini-canyons, as we follow a snaking wash farther east. We come across some huge timbers—probably washed-out foundation struts for more settlement ponds up ahead. The power of storms and rushing water to send them here must be very substantial. No wonder they say to stay out of desert washes during rainstorms.

We finally make it to a very deep wash which halts our progress and before us also lies the deeply gouged hole which used to be just another mountain. It’s obvious this mining was done with equipment, not the pick and shovel of the early times. Our feet say we’ve come far enough for today although there is one last mini-hill I wish to climb and photograph ruins before heading back. It sits behind us though so is convenient for our route back. Here the ruins appear as something out of Beirut during war time, as we marvel just what this area must have been. The tabletop hill contains lots of foundations, pillars and obvious cement abutments which speak of some sort of major processing plant.

Evening finds us gathered around a fire pit conveniently built by some other camper but the ensuing cold and wind soon drives us inside for dinner. Marc has movies we watch on his computer so we settle in and watch one in our new King size bed with the cats, and drift off into a night filled with complete silence.

Sunday has a lazy start which gives Marc the chance to attempt using his metal detector in the wash. Visions of gold nuggets glisten in his thoughts but his equipment list is woefully lacking in sifting apparatus for the sand. Oh well, we intend to come back to this blissful spot and I’m sure he’ll be better prepared next time.

Volunteer Extraordinaire

2011-12-14T18:42:00.011-07:00

Things have been slow for Marc lately so he stepped graciously to the plate when asked for help beyond the ordinary by Helping Hands. Every year in December and again in February, Helping Hands throws the mother of all yard sales—proceeds from which are their main source of funding. Helping Hands provides many services to seniors in the Foothills area, and does so without charge to the senior. I often volunteer as I have time, by doing medical transport, taking those who can no longer drive, into town for doctor’s appointments. I’ve even taken those with impaired eyesight grocery shopping on occasion. We obviously get no pay for this, or any fuel stipend either, but we do get the satisfaction of knowing that we make a huge difference in the lives of the elderly in our neighborhood.

The setup for the giant yard sale starts about nine days in advance of the sale date, with the first step being erection of all the chain link fencing surrounding the sale area, then transporting and set up of all manner of tables and clothing racks. Following this comes the unloading of many sea containers full of literally tons of donated goods. This gets transported to the site via small U Haul trucks and even the Marines help out. Marc spent the better part of three days engaged in this end of it before the unpacking even began.

Once unpacking begins, the ranks of volunteers swell (about 150 come out to get the job done in four days) as the categories of sale items to be unpacked and priced is mind-boggling. If you can think of it, it is probably somewhere in all that stuff and will be for sale! I had room in my schedule to donate one and a half days to unpacking and hanging woman’s clothing but Marc truly went above and beyond by not only devoting an entire week of full days, but he also hauled our little fifth wheel to the site, where he stayed all night playing night watchman as well.

Beyond the satisfaction of helping such a great organization, the biggest perk for the volunteers at the sale is the chance to “shop” daily (ahead of the public opening) for every day volunteered. The volunteers get the best of the bargains, the most unique, the newest, the most pristine of the merchandise and all at bargain basement pricing that is a hallmark of this giant sale. We scored on so many nice items, including an outdoor patio set consisting of a metal settee and two large rocking chairs for $36, several Griswold cast iron frying pans for $3/each and a Henckel knife set for $3 which retails for close to $150. Clothing is beyond belief, some of it brand new, running about 25/cents an item. And fun? Yeah, we’ve got lots of that as well!

The following pictures show the opening to the public, which begins bright and early on a Friday with the sale continuing Saturday. By Saturday pricing is knocked down to half, so even though the numbers are slightly less, both days draw huge crowds and at the end very little is left for volunteers to pack up. If you’re in the area and need something, be sure and come out and support such a wonderful organization. The next sale date is February 17th and 18th. Of course, if you want first dibs on merchandise, do your part, and volunteer!

Tumco Mine Ghost Town

2011-11-30T18:29:00.020-07:00

On our last day and night over Thanksgiving, we happened upon a desert pebble shelf providing boondocking with other RVers. Sitting a short distance above, sat the 1890’s boomtown and mine of Hedges, later renamed Tumco. It is now a historic and protected site of the Pichaco Recreation Area but run by the BLM on the far eastern border of California just north of I-8. Stated to be one of the earliest gold mining towns in California there is very little that remains of the once-bustling town of over 500 which sported residences, a hospital, two cemeteries, and saloons.

Early in the morning’s best light it was an interesting walk-around. I took time to photograph mementoes of an earlier life and time in what was a very inhospitable area. The miners worked for between $2-3.50 a day but since the homes they built sat on company land, they owed a monthly stipend for rental of the site. The gold was mined via use of cyanide and the waste was deposited into large cylindrical metal sediment pools. Once the mine closed, those were abandoned with their contents intact, lying in forlorn solidified heaps and lumps. Much of the town site is overrun with the ooze of these sediments and weather has made interesting patterns of what now looks like a volcanic ash flow.

It’s always an intrigue for me to wander through evidence of times past and wonder about those who trod this soil before me. One can imagine the noise and constant dust from the mine and living in such close proximity; it was mere footsteps out one’s door to go to work. There wasn’t much around these parts during those times—a small settlement at Yuma, 30 miles and a day away. The Southern Pacific RR punched their line through in 1877 which completed the line from Yuma to Los Angeles and which initially spurred the activity here since it is within two miles of the mine. Mining finally came to an end in 1942 with WWII and in 1949 the last residents wandered away and left Tumco a ghost town.

There is more of the mine area to explore when we return and Marc can go along with me. There is an information kiosk in the parking area with brochure pages giving the history of the site. It’s a short jaunt from Yuma at the Olgilby Rd exit north off I-8 and there are signs denoting its location. The numbered walking tour of the ruins is about 1.5 miles and is not a strenuous hike; vehicles are not allowed on mine property. For rock hounders, the area is also full of unusual minerals of note in the boondocking area, there for the picking.

Anza Borrego Trip, Part 2

2011-11-29T13:13:00.017-07:00

Coachwhip Canyon
Given no hiking into the badlands due to the distance from us, we opt to go back to and across the highway, north to something designated “Coachwhip Canyon” which starts as a wide sandy wash from the highway. About a half mile in we pass a Class C getting set up in a wonderfully secluded spot hugging the cliffs and make note of it for our future use. We could reach this with the Dodge, but not the Freightliner due to all the sand. We slog northward, gradually gaining probably 500 feet in elevation during the course of our hike which takes us finally into the bowels of a slot canyon which snakes back and forth upon itself. Unlike the slot canyons of Utah, it is similar in character but not of rock as the topography here is eroded sandstone clay which mimics adobe. After a few miles, Marc has had enough so we turn around, losing hope this was a loop trail.

Salton Sea
We have one more night and two days so after a leisurely breakfast and start from Arroyo Salado we leave the park and head for the Salton Sea, about ten miles away. We are amazed at all the RVs parked along cliff tops overlooking canyons brimming with ATVs and dirt bikes. It’s like a festival with all the wagons circled as friends gather together amidst the rising dust. An intriguing spot for the far-off vista and lake views and canyon topography, but definitely not for us with all the hubbub and commotion. We keep going towards Brawley where we intend to then head east on Hwy. 78.

Imperial Sand Dunes
We happen upon the sand dunes almost by accident, noticing a constant stream of RVs in oncoming traffic. Soon we see a rest stop up a sand dune beckoning us to pull over. It’s a good thing too; we have a chance to exam the damage the rough roads have done to the rig—springing open cabinet doors and spewing contents and broken glass all over, including a liberal dose of sugar which now coats the entire kitchen and floor. Once again we marvel at the sheer number of large and expensive RVs and toys gathered in one ten mile segment—their numbers in the many thousands and thousands! All manner of sand toys dot the dunes like black ants in the distance and there is the constant hum of big machines roaring. It is truly a sight worth seeing at least once.

Tumco Mine Site
After a lunch stop to mop up the sugar damage, we turn south on Olgilby Road knowing we must find our last stop in the next 24 miles, when the road will then rejoin I-8. After a couple of false starts we happen across a few rigs parked on a desert pebble plain below the jagged Cargo Muchacho Mountains and a mine labeled Tumco Historic Mine. We pull in and find our own patch of gravel and settle in for indoor relaxation playing Mexican Train, as it has become fairly windy outside. Early the next morning I go mine exploring on my own but that story deserves its own blog so will follow this episode at a later date. We do find this spot much to our liking and figure that at less than forty miles from home it will make a good stay deserving of another visit. We are back home by noon and within a couple hours, the laundry is done, and the trailer is restocked, cleaned and ready for its next foray. Now we’ll know where to head back to for deeper exploration.

Just the Facts
Anza Borrego is little known considering its size. With free camping up to fourteen days, it merits serious consideration but be aware that you will also be competing with ATV usage in some areas. The visitor brochure lists twenty hiking trails but some, such as the slot canyon wash hike we did, aren’t even listed. There are two major badlands areas and some other areas of physical interest but most require four wheel drive. Dispersed camping is allowed throughout the park and there are also six campgrounds which charge $15-35 with some hookups. There are another eight backcountry campgrounds such as Arroyo Salado with no water and a vault toilet only and (usually) rough access. In a new twist to me (probably a California thing given the state’s abysmal budget status) you must BYOT (bring your own toilet tissue) when you visit the vaulted toilets.

This area gets less than 5 inches of rain a year and remains very hot June through September and even averages 90 during October so obviously winter is high season. We never felt crowded anywhere in the park despite the holiday however. I would imagine a weekday visitation would give a person miles and miles of empty spaces to explore. Apparently heavy rain years bring outstanding wildflower viewing in spring. The major town in proximity to the park is Borrego Springs with a population of about 3000. We didn’t see much in the way of restaurants (no fast food) nor shopping there, save for one small local grocery, a liquor store and an auto repair. But then, this isn’t the place to come if one is looking for town life.

Bring a four wheel drive vehicle if you can. Without it, much of the park will be off-limits. It’s not that the roads are necessarily so rough, but most sport deep, deep sand in spots.

Anza Borrego Here We Come, Part 1

2011-11-29T11:42:00.023-07:00

We seem to be awakened half the night by the railroad crossing, where the mighty beast flashes by at 60 mph and any late night wayward traffic must come to a stop. We’re boondocking just down the road apiece from I-8 and Sidewinder Road on Wednesday night, the first night out with our new to us camper, on our way to explore Anza-Borrego State Park in southern California.

Anza-Borrego is huge (600,000+ acres); California’s largest state park and the only one to allow dispersed free camping. Those words being music to our ears, we head out on Thanksgiving morning as we normally do, not knowing where we’ll end up to spend the night. We’ve left without detailed maps of the area we plan to visit but I tell Marc I’m pretty sure we take the exit at Ocotillo, whose brown sign merely states “desert parks” and head north on Imperial Highway, a misnomer if I’ve ever seen one, as we traverse the narrow, shoulder-less, hilly road. We go through a border patrol checkpoint and then pull-over at a kiosk which features an area map—our only signal that we have entered the actual park; quite obviously via the back door.

After a brief pullover to take long distance photos of the Carrizo Badlands, with the wind blowing sand against our bare legs, we decide to head on and look for a more sheltered spot to settle into for the day and evening. Carrizo looks interesting but is definitely four wheel drive country.

Overland Stage Route
We find what we are looking for with a dirt track labeled Overland Stage Road 1849 which heads east and looks passable with the Freightliner. We stop some travelers coming back out the road and ask its condition and if there may be a place to camp and they helpfully point out that there is a spot by the trees and that the road is OK. Soon enough after a mere mile, we are able to pull off the road into a wide spot nestled in the scrub and Palo Verde trees. We set up camp; take a short sojourn up the dirt road and across the hills to find some monuments made out of rock (denoting the stage stop?), take in the views and then head back to prepare our Thanksgiving ham.

While in camp, Marc also worked on some dead Palo Verde walking sticks for both of us, which are a beautiful golden color.

Blair Valley
We head out bright and early the next morning continuing our meandering north on S2 which lends great morning light to the Blair Valley region of Borrego. There are signs of settlements here and there and we briefly exit the park then reenter upon intersecting Hwy. 78, a main artery from San Diego to the OHV Park at Salton Sea. Traffic picks up considerably (trucks and toy haulers) until we mercifully decide to exit back onto a smaller road which immediately starts up a twisty grade on its way to Borrego Springs, a town of about 3000 and the official Visitor’s Center and Museum. The Blair Valley side of Borrego is much lusher, higher in elevation and obviously gains more precipitation. Within view are farther western mountaintops sporting trees. Also populating this area are mile after hilly mile of closely packed Cholla cactus—those dreaded jumping demons that pose a threat to human and animal alike. This would be a tedious area to try camping with pets.

Box Canyon
Upon nearly reaching the summit we pull over at a historical sign for Box Canyon. There amidst the interesting flora is a winding pathway to the edge of a very small canyon with explanation that this was not only also part of the 1849 stage road, but it was originally hewn by the first emigrants to California, in 1847. The emigrants made the goat trail which sits just above the canyon bottom, which was used by the stagecoach.

Visitor Center
The state of California spent nearly $7 million dollars building the underground visitor center and gardens for Anza Borrego and it is a welcoming place which even let us take on water for our rig. While there, we finally were able to purchase good maps indicating mileage and highlights on all the back dirt roads for future trips. They maintain a pond and oasis for habitat for the highly endangered pupfish, a prehistoric fish native only to Death Valley.

Arroyo Salado
To wind up our day with a campsite, we heed words of advice and head on S22 towards the eastern boundary of the park where we find the very primitive Arroyo Salado campground. Marc again finds a spot we can back into and we’re glad we arrived early as it soon fills with tenters and ATVers. We are the only trailer in camp—the only one to venture down the rough road which would likely high center most normal trailers. We look out and down upon the Borrego Badlands—a more extensive area than the others we glimpsed the day before. There are trails into these as well, also accessed only via four wheel drive sand tracks. I’ll miss seeing them this trip as well.
To Be Continued....

Our New Escape Pod

2011-11-21T15:19:00.009-07:00

Things are looking like my entire year of not setting foot outside of Yuma will come to an end a little shy of the mark by about four days, but who’s quibbling when one has endured the desert for such a long stretch? More than the blast furnace heat of a long summer, it has been the monotony of the same scenery which has weighed on my mind, forcing me to feel a wanderlust to get anywhere over the next hill just so I don’t see the same horizon.

Serendipity struck about a week ago and Marc fell into the golden opportunity to buy a small (23 foot), older (1996) fifth wheel which will provide the magic means of weekend escapes from Yuma. The Travel Supreme is just too cumbersome to take off with on the spur of the moment nor is it suitable for primitive camping. We’ve spent a busy week fixing a few items and tweaking things as we want them and loading it up with gear. Although the unit is in superb condition for its age (& especially its cost…$950); a window had been left open and it was filled with Yuma dust and grime so it took quite a lot of cleaning to bring back its pristine condition.

In lieu of purchasing new tires and because he also needed to get the trailer higher in stature to hitch properly to both trucks, Marc had the idea to switch out the puny 3000 pound axles with two of those 6000 pound axles which came off the Travel Supreme. This also gave us much larger and meatier tires and good rubber. Marc calls it the Nomad “Bigfoot Edition”, fully capable now of off-road travel through some of the toughest desert or forest environments! We will be pulling with the Freightliner (yeah, we know, a tad bit of “overkill”) this first trip out since it has the generator. Marc has an older generator he hopes to get running and mounted on the Dodge to use it for future trips as its four wheel drive capability will allow us many more boondocking opportunities.

Although my work schedule has been particularly busy of late, I have been trying to find time to research where we might spend our four day Thanksgiving break. Head west into the desert areas of Anza Borrego, California’s largest state park, with badlands, boulders, and palm oasis to explore? Head north to Lake Alamo, an Arizona state park out in the middle of nowhere with serenely empty views and hiking? Go east and investigate all the big city attractions of Tucson? Or southeast to Organ Pipe Nat’l. Park where giant stands of huge cactus dominate the mountainous landscape? One thing is for certain: I had better hurry up, because come early Thursday morning, Bigfoot, the Duskes, and two cats are off on the first adventure of the entire year! Come back next time to see where we landed.

Simplicity

2011-10-25T11:02:00.003-07:00

I clean an elderly gentleman’s home whom I admire for his simplicity. His house is orderly; not overly austere but not cluttered either, and I noted today that he owns 8 shirts, 3 pair of shorts, one long pair of pants and two pairs of shoes. Lest you think I snoop in his closets while he is away—nope—I do his laundry, fold and put away his clothes and towels. When I compare my closet to his it almost becomes a metaphor of the living conditions of life. The more you possess, the more it seems to weigh you down. On the other hand, the more we lose of what we possess—things and stuff, health, money, status, time—the more it also seems to weigh us down. A conundrum for sure.

I am on a mission to seek beyond where I have been. Would my life become that much simpler if I got rid of everything in my closet but 8 blouses, 3 pair of shorts, a pair of slacks and (God forbid!) only two pair of shoes? What is the essence of moving into a later stage of life without the weight (and fear) of the world; slipping more easily down the passage of time; dare I say—satisfied? It defies me.

I underwent a recent health scare where the jury has not yet returned my verdict. I teeter on the verge of an uneasy panic and a dive into the nether world of subconscious thoughts as I try and cope to manage my thoughts and feelings about something I know nothing about. I have been oblivious to good health; after all, it’s always been something that was just there until one recent day when maybe it isn’t any longer. I feel I faced death and found myself sadly lacking; found myself not ready in the least. Too much of my struggle to become a new me is yet undone—hell, 80% of it is probably undone.

My life in the past four, harrowing years hasn’t been at all what I wanted or pictured it at this stage of the game. I am on a quest to come to terms with that. To continue to live I need to do that. Then maybe I will be free to move on and live better and longer. It’s all about finding the key that lets one be happy with a closet mostly empty don’t you think?

A Sweet Arrival

2011-10-18T20:31:00.021-07:00

October 12th dawned a beautiful Yuma day in more ways than one—daughter Rachael was on her way to stay with us for a short visit! I worked my usual little lady’s breakfast, came home and picked up Marc and we whisked our way quickly to the airport to await her arrival. She looked good and we got caught up during the afternoon and as she helped us prepare dinner.

The next day found us touring Algodones where it didn’t take long for the hawkers to realize they had a neophyte with some money, as Rachael found bobble after bobble she needed to haggle for. We had a wonderful and authentic lunch al fresco at the Paraiso which features a beautiful outdoor garden area. Marc and Rachael lingered for a beer while I scooted off to my dentist for a quick teeth cleaning.

Since the border crossing went quickly getting back into the US, we had time to stop by and allow Rachael to tour the infamous Yuma Territorial Prison. In the museum we took each others’ pictures using the very mirror used in the day to capture the profile view of incoming prisoners. From there, needing some cold water, we stopped by my favorite client Lilly’s, so she could meet Rachael and we could chat a bit. Another home cooked dinner al fresco on our patio followed that evening after our busy day.

Thursday was girl’s day as early in the day I drove Rachael with Derby to her vet appointment. Once back home, I took Rachael on a whirlwind tour of downtown, including the art deco Main Street area of old historic Yuma. We stopped by Lute’s, a former casino but now just restaurant and bar, for lunch after browsing many of the antique stores of downtown. We enjoyed another evening outdoors on our patio with a neighbor for company as we dove into homemade enchiladas.

Saturday, our last full day and night with Rachael we awoke early and had a refreshing morning walk and then piled into the Dodge with guns and ammo for the short trek out into our desert for some target practice. Marc had made some cardboard targets and an improvised stand and he measured out 5, 10 and 20 yard distances. The sun felt broiling as we blazed away but once again we had a fantastic time with our daughter. Saturday afternoon and evening we just kicked back around the house, mostly under the a/c as we have experienced unprecedented triple digit temperatures this week and it finally wore us out!

We barbecued an Alaskan salmon fillet and once again dined al fresco and then hopped across the street to our neighbor’s house for a little more camaraderie and Yuma hospitality.

Sunday was very sad as we watched Rachael checking through security in the early morning hours to fly back and prepare for her following work week. The same can be said for me—time to get back to work, but with memories I will treasure forever of a very special four days. Thanks for coming sweetheart.

Feeling Old

2011-09-25T11:40:00.011-07:00

There’s nothing like a skin cancer diagnosis to make a member of the Boomer generation really feel past their prime and it happened to me last week. Since April I’ve been aware of a small growth on my cheek just below my eye which my regular doctor thought could be burned off with dry ice. Given that didn’t work; I saw a dermatologist this past week and learned that, in my case, surgery is probably going to be the best option. There was another treatment in the form of a cream which could be used over the course of three months but which produces oozing crusty sores and lots of skin irritation. I figure a lifetime scar is probably preferable since I’m out working everyday in the public and the thought of carrying ugly sores for three months just wasn’t that appealing.

After a trial of nearly two months, most of the kitchen redo is finally finished. Well…at least the tile portion! We ended up having to tear out most of the work the Mexicans did due to shoddy workmanship. Marc’s job turned out beautiful and I love it! Marc still has to make some cabinet doors and spice racks which he will hang on either side of my kitchen window that will triple the storage I had previously.

The small dinette table and chairs are gone and in its place is a new wine rack where I also store all my cookbooks and some serving dishes. The pies de la resistance is the butcher block which we have really enjoyed using.

My schedule has gotten unbelievably busy with my seniors; in fact, I’m just about as full with as many clients as I can handle at the moment. Now that the snowbirds are returning (yes already!) I am getting at least two-three calls a week in which I must turn people down which is always a tough thing for me to do. But since I’m a one-man band there is only so much of me to go around and still have anything left for the home front. A busy schedule makes the weeks fly by but I often reach the weekend too tired to do much beyond my normal errands and chores to get ready for my following work week. That’s not to say I don’t truly enjoy what I am doing though.

Our daughter Rachael will be visiting for a few days in a couple weeks so I will take three days off to spend with her. We’ve got some fun things planned and we’re very excited to see her soon! Even Derby will likely be amazed (and a little confused) to see her again! Meanwhile, Marc is about to get going on welding and building some gates so we can try and contain our cats a little better and we hope to do some more landscaping as soon as we can find the gumption (and cooler weather) to dig some deep holes. I want some more palm trees. We also have a plant against the front privacy wall which has struggled from day one which I want to pull and replace with a bougainvillea. I’ve always wanted to see one growing up and cascading over the wall. Nights here have finally started to cool off although the days haven’t so our air conditioners still grind away 24/7. October should see us turning the heat corner and then it will be Yuma’s turn to shine with fabulous weather all winter.

Desert Deluge, September 5th

2011-09-06T15:29:00.004-07:00

As so often happens with desert storms, this one appeared quickly over the Gila Mountains with a few thunderheads and ever-increasing winds. It didn’t take long for the downpour to begin and quickly provide inches of runoff from the streets and into the washes. The cooling effect was immediate too; we quickly fell a full ten degrees in temperature and then another ten degrees within the next hour after the rain had stopped. The humidity also jumped to an oppressive 80%!

They often advise not driving through the water-filled washes and even though it might seem like mere inches, I was surprised today to see road crews out with heavy equipment scraping not only buckets of sand off the roadway, but fairly large boulders and broken limbs of trees six inches in diameter. None of that debris was visible under the raging, muddy waters as I took these pictures yesterday during the storm. In a small car like mine, a person could do serious damage to their undercarriage.

Haboob? Or Just Sympathy Pains?

2011-08-29T06:58:00.021-07:00

(Due to our internet being down all day Sunday this blog was posted a day late).

It arrived very suddenly with shrieking blasts around 10 p.m. last night and after it had blown through, we thought that the hurricane hitting New York had somehow gotten misdirected. I’m talking about a ferocious wind/thunderstorm which pounded our neighborhood for about an hour’s worth of destruction. A quick check with our neighborhood this morning and all suffered some type of damage.

Here’s what’s left of the tarp covering Marc’s work area on our lot. Looking around at many downed trees on others’ lots, I can’t believe ours didn’t suffer any damage.

Lots of gates blew down or out.

And the flapping blue tarp crowd is “a really flapping” now!

Odd spots of upheaval like this porch in disarray and an upended large BBQ and some poor guy’s very expensive gazebo ruined. (By the way, despite the lead in picture of ours dancing like a banshee, it survived, thanks to Marc’s good anchoring system.)

There are a lot of roofs damaged, metal torn off, even heavy tile lifted and scattered broken about all over yards. Many of these owners are absentee of course, so they perhaps won’t know of the damage until they return this winter. This was about the worst wind storm we have been in here in Yuma and followed the haboob (dust storm) they experienced in Phoenix yesterday early evening. Even this morning our Gila Mountain range disappeared to our vision there was so much dust stirred up.

Continued Sacrifices

2011-08-22T16:57:00.004-07:00

Following along the lines of Marc’s sacrifices lately in giving up his toys I am making one of my own. Please be advised that sometime in September, our main website itchyhitch.com will cease to exist.

The primary way this impacts current readers is that if you are accessing this “What’s New” blog from itchyhitch.com you will need to bookmark this new direct address: http://itchyhitchwhatsnew.blogspot.com/
Please make note of it.

In actuality, we haven’t done much with our main website since we stopped traveling. The format is cumbersome for Marc to work with since it requires Front Page & HTML formatting. However, it does have advantages that I haven’t mastered in Google’s free BlogSpot; for instance, the posting of all the photo story videos. So this is fair warning that if there are pages on our main website you may enjoy and want to refer to in the future please copy them while you have the chance.

We have retained the domain “itchyhitch.com” since my primary email address is linked to that and the cost is very slight. And who knows? Eventually we may travel again and find need for an extensive website like itchyhitch used to be before falling on hard times, like us.

Kitchen Redo

2011-08-14T06:04:00.008-07:00

We’re finally in the middle of our kitchen redo and things are a mess. I’ve got the RV kitchen to use of course, and save for the fact of running back and forth between the two places in 110 degree heat, I am thankful for it! Marc is working this in between some other jobs so when it will actually be done is anyone’s guess. We hope the countertop tile can be laid as of today but the more-intricate and difficult backsplash tile will be awhile yet.

After building the new enclosure for the dishwasher Marc did get the harlequin-pattered end cap tile finished on Friday and it came out very unique and different. My counter tile will be a combination of the two colors as well but with six inch tile. The predominant color will be the palomino with the buff color dropped in randomly and occasionally. Unfortunately the first dishwasher we purchased, a GE, ended up not working properly so we had to make a trip to Home Depot for a replacement on Friday which won’t arrive until Tuesday. I opted for a Maytag this time around; more money of course.

Our temperatures this past week actually moderated a tad; at least some of the early mornings were bearable although the week started with very high humidity at 70%. Looking ahead to this week though, we will be fairly consistent at about 109 most of the time. High electricity bills due to air conditioning are just a given this time of year so it sure hurts to pay the bill. Our a/c units haven’t shut down in weeks and months, running continuously, even in the RV.

The only other news of note is that our next-door neighbors had the fire department out upon discovery of a four foot rattlesnake which crawled beneath their manufactured home. Fire department personnel refused to crawl in after it—no surprise, so we now watch a little more carefully where we step as we traverse our lot with its myriad places for a snake to hide. It was surprising to us a snake would come onto that lot since they have a small dog but they also leave dog food out which probably attracts rodents. I know it attracts grackles every morning who hop around with chunks in their beaks. Of course, if it happens to show up on our lot there will be no calling the fire department on this end; we’ll serve up western justice of our own ilk at the end of a double barrel.

Just one more thing to put up with in a desert summer.

Over the Top

2011-08-06T19:00:00.011-07:00

Marc now spends much of his free time cooking and baking and despite the small size of our kitchen there is always room for something like this—a new, original Boos Butcher Block made to order! Boos has been making professional level butcher blocks out of hard rock Maple in Illinois since the 1800's. There's one in the White House.

When the large truck arrived and I told Marc that I bought him a new toy as a surprise for his anniversary gift and told him it weighed around 270 pounds he was not only flabbergasted but stymied. That soon passed once he peeked inside the box although I’m not sure he realized it was going to be a stand-alone block and not just a cutting board.

After dinner, he soon set about putting it together since the legs and casters needed attaching. It took both of us to tip it upright, where Marc finished the process by attaching the knife holder to the side.

Mere words fail to describe the singular sensation of cutting on something like this. There is a denseness and solidness that is beyond belief—it truly gives the art of cutting or chopping a new glory. Every time we look at it we smile and run our hands over the smooth top as though it’s a thoroughbred born to race. What a beautiful piece of functional art that can be handed down through generations to use and cherish.

Changing Things Up

2011-07-30T05:13:00.008-07:00

Living where nights remain relatively balmy during fall and winter we find we entertain a lot once our entire neighborhood is back in residence during “the season”. One thing I have really grown to miss since selling our home in Bend and living in the RV and the park model is not having a dishwasher. I don’t view washing dishes several times daily as an evil household chore, but I do particularly miss having one after having dinner companions or throwing a party which means a pile of dishes, pots, and pans which take me hours to clean up, wash and dry. I’ve wistfully told Marc that I wished I had a dishwasher enough times now that he finally got the message and is determined to figure a way I can.

For those not in the know, everything done in RVs and park models is done in miniature scale as compared to normal household fixtures. Appliances are narrower, furniture is small scale, cupboards lack adequate household depth; even water heaters are normally only five gallons! We were smart enough to upgrade ours however, so this park model sports a 20 gallon model so we eliminated one immediate concern. However, there just is nothing to be done about a cabinet whose depth is only 20.5 inches when a normal dishwasher needs at least 25.5 inches.

Looking at our quasi-bar configuration, that cabinet sits in the only and rightful area for placement of a dishwasher so Marc is determined that he can probably unbolt it and take it apart and take it into a cabinet shop where they can carefully cut it to expand it. This is a little too convoluted to explain in these pages but the gist of the thing is that it will then require a new countertop in the entire kitchen. Currently there is wood-wrapped Formica in the kitchen and on the separate built-in buffet. Our thinking is that we will put in new tops done in tile which can then also be run up as backsplash, which I have also desperately needed behind the stove. It will also be necessary to run tile down the end piece which currently houses our heater (and an open hole which we’ve never been able to fix) which has to be removed due to the dishwasher! We’ve not gotten far enough long to figure out where the heater can be reinstalled. It could be near to impossible to try and match the factory wood and stain so tile seems like a better option for this end cap. The look should be a great improvement and I will get my dishwasher!

Unfortunately, gaining a dishwasher forces me to lose my only large cabinet for pots, pans and bake ware so it has been a mad scramble of rearranging and eliminating in order to find room (mainly in the buffet) for these items.

The changes haven’t only been about me and my wants—I agonized for several months over something a little over the top to get for Marc’s present for our upcoming anniversary. We normally don’t exchange gifts at any point during the year and haven’t done anything in years to celebrate our day. Marc hasn’t had it easy giving up his toys this year and since he has developed a passion for baking bread, smoking meats, and just cooking in general I thought about what I might be able to contribute to the kitchen to make it more workable for him—OK, us.

Is this over the top enough? Ah-ha—it hasn’t arrived as yet, so stay tuned next week to find out his surprise!

Derby Settles In

2011-07-24T09:07:00.015-07:00

Marc made it home with our new family addition late Monday evening. To ease her into things, he spent the night with her in the RV so she wouldn’t be exposed to our cat Tucker right after her traumatic week of travel and staying in various strange houses along the way. After that, we traded off and I took Derby and he took Tucker until we decided to introduce them later in the week. Meanwhile, Derby had a chance to look around after she would come out from hiding under or on top of the bed.

She made quick progress and soon grew to love early mornings out on the screened in front porch where she discovered the asparagus fern much to her liking. Since she was eating it and using it for her bed I finally needed to move it before she destroyed the entire thing. She also got much better with me, almost ceasing entirely her aggressive lashing out and now shadows me throughout the house as I go about my tasks. She hasn’t warmed up to Marc quite as much but I really do think she tends to be a one-person cat and must have transferred her attachment to Rachael over to me.

The jury is still out on the two cats together. They haven’t come to outright cat fighting yet but she often hisses at Tucker as he goes about trying his best to ignore her presence. She remains curious about him though and won’t let him far from sight despite feigning indifference.

This morning we moved the large cat condo from the RV into the park model and although it takes up a lot of space we can ill afford, it has already become Derby’s haven as she sits atop it and gazes out the window and tries to squeeze her ample rear end through the almost-too-small holes. Every cat we’ve owned has loved this thing and now it looks to be making Derby feel right at home.

The Days Fold In to One Another

2011-07-18T07:40:00.004-07:00

To beat the heat I have started doing my morning walk after only my first cup of coffee by about 5:30 a.m. It is starting to get light at that time but not enough that the bats are entirely back to their caves in the mountain, so they swoop low over me chasing the last of their meals as they head en masse east before the first rays of sunlight hit. Due to the tropical monsoon dampness now present, the desert smells are sharper and assault my nose with varying degrees depending upon topography and land features. The vegetation of the low-lying washes always put forth more pungent flavors. It’s quiet out this time of morning and I am often the only one out walking, but not always. For the resolute, everyone now walks well before 7 a.m. or not at all.

Even though my days vary between clients and tasks, there has developed a flow to my weeks that has them quickly slipping past. That’s ok; it will be nice to be around the bend from Yuma’s oppressive summer heat so I already look forward to the fall and winter. Although I am now tied to the desert as surely as if I had shackles around my ankles, so far my business gives me enough pleasure that I have been able to temper my need and yearning for escape. At some point though (I can feel it building) I will need to see some trees and real mountains and terrain that isn’t all rock and sand.

Marc will return soon with our new cat and some quasi-plans to perhaps get the front of our lot gated off so we can hope to contain our cats on our lot and not have them wandering. Tucker, given the heat, has learned to stay close, hiding under the damp coolness the Pigmy palm affords but only for about an hour every morning then he too is ready to relax beneath the air conditioner, snoozing his day away. By that time, I am off as I am most mornings, to make my elderly lady her breakfast and chat with her to get her day started. She has even been asking me to come over on Saturdays, effectively making a six day work week for me but I still get enough breaks that it is not a problem. She says she misses me when I’m not there! Surely, that’s some sort of job security….

If Karma Works, I Should Be in For Good Times Soon

2011-07-09T13:25:00.012-07:00

Even though my own service helping out seniors has been keeping me fairly busy, I haven’t given up on my desire to continue with my volunteer work with Helping Hands, a wonderful organization worthy of so much praise for all they do for so many. I typically devote at least 3-10 hours a week to their cause. They serve over 720 seniors in the greater Foothills area of Yuma and their volunteer numbers fall off drastically during summer since many who volunteer are seniors themselves, winter visitors who fly the coop so to speak during the heat. Consequently, they can really use the help.

Yesterday I had a light client day so was cleaning the RV when I got an emergency call asking me to quickly help out an elderly lady whose air conditioning had failed. I needed to pick her up from her home, transport her to an assisted living facility, whereby she would be taken by someone else half way to San Diego where her daughter would pick her up from there. Over her protests that it shamed her to have to ask for such help, I reminded her that Helping Hands is there for instances such as this and that we were glad we could be of service to her. With our heat index now hovering daily at over 115 degrees, it wouldn’t take long to put a senior such as herself in dire straits inside a dwelling with no air conditioning!

On another note, Marc and I were asked by our daughter this week to take in her errant former cat. Through the recent divorce and Rachael’s subsequent move to a rental which would not allow pets, she thought her former husband would be able to keep Derby until her situation improved. Unfortunately, he too found it necessary to move into a place where pets weren’t allowed so he gave the cat to some friends. Derby was chipped as a kitten so when she escaped last week and was found wandering the busy highway in Troutdale, Oregon and turned in to the animal shelter by a Good Samaritan, it was my daughter they called. Distraught and horrified, Rachael asked if we could possibly consider taking her in so they wouldn’t have to turn her in to the animal shelter.

Now understand, Derby is a one person cat with an attitude, so this is no light request. She is nothing at all like what I would want for my own pet and we certainly weren’t looking to add a buddy to our lovable hunk of mellow yellow, our golden boy Tucker.

But with a daughter in meltdown over Derby’s real possibility of euthanasia, what’s a parent to do?

Marc will be returning with a new pal—one who so far is so ungrateful as to only hiss at him. Rachael brought her over to Bend and is trying hard to ease the transition for a cat who has obviously suffered major trauma in the past few weeks and months. I wonder what my golden boy is going to think when she walks in. Maybe she will provide interest for him to change from his now-normal summertime posture:

I nearly feel like a grandparent must when asked to babysit the grandkids when they had other plans. Do you do it or not? I told my daughter she’s going to owe me for this but we can’t stand the fact of beautiful Derby not having a chance at life. Tucker, did I tell you you’re going to have a new baby sister? Rescuing seniors and cats--that's me!

Into the Tropical Monsoon Season

2011-07-03T06:28:00.002-07:00

Seemingly in one fell swoop we entered the monsoon season here in Yuma last night. Yesterday’s high temperature of 115 degrees only faded to about an 85 overnight as suddenly winds started gusting sustained at between 20-30 mph and I could hear banging and clanging throughout the yard as stuff blew over. This morning dawns slightly cloudy with the gusting winds still pushing the palms around, and with a jump in humidity from 5% yesterday to 48% this morning I feel like I’m in the tropics! There is always softness to the air with such a humidity level, which I’ve missed living in the desert, so maybe the monsoon will have a silver lining after all.

I wrapped up a very busy week with my seniors and picked up three new clients. More and more I feel as though my business is underway and the response to the job I do has continued to be a very positive reinforcement that I am on the right track. The old truism “find a need and fill it” was never truer.

Marc hasn’t quite made it to Oregon as yet; he has been visiting with old friends, enjoying cool to moderate temperatures, nightly barbecues and probably a few Crown Royals around late-night conversations. He needed the break. Lucky guy—I think he even plans on seeing an old friend in Coos Bay so he will definitely be feeling a little of monsoon air himself at the coast.

Our forward forecast has temperatures moderating just a bit as I head into another busy week. Will today at 108 seem cool as compared to yesterday’s 115?

Another Piece of My Heart

2011-06-26T09:30:00.008-07:00

Escaping the heat with our boat in tow, Marc plans to head north to Oregon tomorrow. As we drift further into the abyss of joblessness, the boat just has to go. So we are giving it back to the dealer.

It, like our bike we had to sell three shorts month ago, represents another lifestyle and another time, which now seems so foreign and far off. Now we scrimp to have money to buy groceries, utilities, fuel, vehicle maintenance and nothing else; then we had money for enjoyment, toys, and good times. I can’t look at it without remembering gently bobbing on the bay, sipping hot coffee or cold beer, while we waited out the necessary soak time for our crab pots. Reading the tide chart was a morning ritual.

If there was ever a case of a planned-for-future not working out as planned, Marc and I are living proof. Now we don’t make plans; we drift from day to day wondering where the next dollar will come from and when it doesn’t, what we will lose next.

Growing Fond of the Desert or Daft From the Heat….

2011-06-18T15:56:00.005-07:00

It’s about as official as the Duskes can ever predict such a thing: we are more than likely going to settle in as permanent Yuma residents, better known as Yumans.

With the development and growth of my service helping seniors and my great enjoyment in doing so, I feel myself more and more reluctant to consider anything beyond Yuma. Yes, it could still be necessary for Marc to leave for a steady job, but it would take a great deal to get me out of here.

Yuma came to be by default. We hung on a little too long to a lot we intended to develop and flip for a good profit—we got torn away from it many winters and couldn’t complete the improvements in a timely fashion and then the market simply drained away. Having no great impetus to sell, why would we now at a loss? Besides, Marc spent thousands of dollars and four back and forth trips getting much of our stored goods from Bend moved here, all at tremendous effort. For better or worse, this is home, baby.

Is it just me or does aging make contemplating change more difficult? Suddenly the temptation of far-off exploration and grass is greener syndrome just doesn’t seem to hold water for me. Maybe being the consummate wanderer, I have finally seen enough. For once in my life, I am trying to appreciate the nuances of remaining static; trying to build the ties that bind one to a community in blissful contentment. I know others have done it; why has it always eluded me?

The searing heat of our desert summer doesn’t make this an easy task but perhaps it will be an enduring one. Where else do we have to go; where else do we have to be? Am I at last finding the meaning of “home”? Frankly, I’m tired of moving, tired of the transience, tired of all the money spent and frittered away that we now so desperately could use. I want to watch my plants grow, I want to see my business grow and I want to remain on my own piece of desert dirt. There’s no doubt about it; Yuma’s climate is hell on earth for about three months out of the year. But its climate is also heaven on earth for at least six months of the year. That’s more than an equitable trade I would say.

My Niche during the Trying Times

2011-06-11T19:38:00.004-07:00

The endless blue skies which so captivate us during a Yuma winter now stretch into a miserable summer. Although heat came late to Yuma this year, it is finally arriving with daily triple digits. The signature moment of transition is when even the nights no longer cool down to make for a refreshing morning. How refreshing is it to wake up to 75 degrees at 5 a.m.? My plants bake; the concrete bakes, we bake. But we have been told it is as nothing as yet; just wait for July and August.

Our days have assumed a normal that is typical with working folks, although Marc’s remodel job is drawing to a close. My service to the seniors is building, week by week, and I cling to the hope that it will get much busier when the snowbirds arrive back in town by November. It is still a pittance of the income we really need but it has brought me great joy to work with these people so I persevere. At the very least between it and the volunteering I still do, it keeps me busy, out and about meeting new people, and helps me from falling back into the glumness that has been our life for the past three-four years.

Recent news on the economy is not real encouraging either. From all indications, the US is on the verge of another trek back into recession and my brain keeps reverberating with a quote from some government official who stated “Nine percent unemployment may be the “new normal” for the next 10-15 years.” That sounds like political hedging to me—the parties getting ready to make their lame excuses, heading into election year, just as always, while we on the bottom tier bare the brunt of all the Wall Street folly. The latest speculation is for a massive stock market crash by summer’s end—if indeed it happens, again wiping out the common man’s futile attempts at building something for retirement income.

I keep telling myself, don’t despair, it’s only the summer doldrums. I have better things to do now; taking care of my seniors, all much more desperate than I. At least it appears to be a recession-proof job. When you’re old and have no one else around and you need help—you need help. They are all so thankful for my presence—it is a joy to work for them. And in turn, I am thankful to each of them; they keep me going. I keep hoping I am building something meaningful. So far it sure feels right. (Google stock photos).

Nothing Like Getting Caught Up in the Drama

2011-06-02T19:32:00.002-07:00

As most of you have probably heard by now, a disgruntled man, age 73, involved in a bad divorce decided to take it out upon people in a horrific way in Yuma today. Six people were shot, five dead. The other clings to life in Phoenix.

In a very vicarious way, I was there. You see, I was doing my Helping Hands transport with a gal that needed to see a doctor on 4^th in the morning. As we were pulling up to the major intersection of 16^th and 4^th, cop car after cop car came screaming by with sirens blasting. As I was in the middle of the intersection on a green left turn arrow, an unmarked car with lights flashing came into the intersection from my lane—in other words, heading head on into me in the wrong direction so I slammed on my brakes to let him pass. A block later, I dropped off my lady and started to head back out on 4^th to run an errand when I received a call from our coordinator at Helping Hands. It was a police emergency she said and I replied “Yeah, I appear to be right in the middle of it on 4^th”. Right at that moment an ambulance was blasting towards and past me from the direction of Yuma’s core downtown. Both my transport and I had thought “Oh, very bad accident” but instead I hear the words “There is a man shooting who started in Wellton (a small town 18 miles east of Yuma) and has shot five people. He is driving a silver PT Cruiser, dressed in green so be very, very careful!”

My head went on swivel patrol as my nervous eyes scanned constantly left and right looking for silver cars. Not knowing any details until later in the day, when I picked my lady up to drive her home I took back roads, thinking it was probably safer than taking the freeway in case someone was trying to make a getaway.

The details as of now seem to suggest that at the time we were downtown; the shooter was still lose and had just finished killing people. At the time the police cars sped by me, they probably were chasing him out Hwy. 95, which is the main highway heading towards Quartzsite from Yuma, and approximately at the junction with Fortuna Rd, which is out in the Foothills where we live, they found him dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, saving us all the bother of a trial.

The man’s rampage lasted half a day and took in a great swath from Wellton to Yuma. What a senseless tragedy. What a day to have to go into downtown Yuma! *Jerrold Shelley, the only victim so far identified beyond the shooter, was a prominent Yuma divorce and criminal attorney.

Timeline of calls, according to the Yuma County Sheriff's Office:

5:07 a.m. - First call came in. Yuma County Sheriff's deputies respond to a residence at Avenue 22 1/2E and Highway 80, where they found one victim who had been shot. That victim was taken by air ambulance to a Phoenix hospital and is listed in critical condition

8:19 a.m. - A second victim was found at a residence near Avenue 35E and Highway 80. The victim had been killed.

9:21 a.m. - Yuma police respond to an office on 2nd Avenue, where they found the body of Jerrold Shelley.

9:43 a.m. - Deputies respond to another call at Avenue 32E and Highway 80, where two victims were killed.

10:20 a.m. - Deputies respond to Avenue 36E and Highway 80, where another victim was killed.

10:47 a.m. - Deputies respond to Blaisdell area, where they found the body of Carey Hal Dyess, 73. Dyess, who police have identified as the suspect in the killings, was killed by an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

UPDATED 5:20 p.m. - The suspect in a series of shootings around Yuma County is dead, police said. Carey Hal Dyess, 73, of Yuma, apparently shot and killed one person in Yuma and four people in Yuma County before shooting himself, according to a press conference this afternoon.

On Death

2011-05-25T19:08:00.002-07:00

It seems to me the end of our lives is never pleasant, however it happens. I am working with so many seniors now who have been through so much agony with the death of a spouse. They carry it years later on their backs like a parasite which sucks the good times from their faces. So many seem to go on thenceforth without purpose, much like my mother is still doing. Their health fails; they regale their current state of affairs; there are no longer any daily interests of note save for the passing TV shows flickering on the screen in the background as they relate their stories.

Of course, in case you wonder, I am doing a take-away from all this. The moral of the story is that one does not want to live forever; indeed, one does not want to live for a long time even. Truly—I suspect, one does not really wish to even outlive one’s good health. At least I don’t. I look around at scattered pill boxes which contain sometimes up to 20 pills a day which these seniors take to stay alive. They all complain of dizziness and how they hate it. Where is the boundary between a satisfying, engaged, fulfilled life—and what I am seeing with so many who suffer from ailments beyond comprehension to deal with, as they cling to life like a Remora on a shark. What is the purpose and what keeps them going?

I haven’t found out the secret as yet. Perhaps one will tell me someday. Who is it that coined the phrase “Hope springs eternal in the human heart?” Hope. Such a fragile word.

Score!

2011-05-12T13:08:00.000-07:00

I just got my first regular weekly client today; an 88 year old woman who has health and mobility problems which interfere with her ability to cook for herself so she wants me to come in five days a week every morning for two hours to make her breakfast and prep something for her dinner. She has a lovely home about three miles away and as she tells me, a kitchen well stocked with pots and pans! So get to it girl! Just kidding; she was very sweet and it will be nice to have a regular gig to attend to.

Meanwhile, our cat deals with the daily heat by lying on his back all day on the lino with his legs spread like some sleazy hooker. The only thing we can guess is that somehow this position must help cool him off. I can’t imagine wearing a fur coat when it is 100 out.

The fuel economy has fallen so badly on the Dodge with the demise of its exhaust system that Marc decided to spring for a Banks system which he plans to install in a couple of weeks. I don’t even want to mention the thousands it cost! Still better than a new diesel one ton he keeps assuring me. On an added note, I held the light and he worked until well after dark the other evening on my Saturn, which had suddenly lost half its transmission fluid and was shifting badly. Why those engines aren’t made with a dip stick to check that stuff is beyond us. We’re hoping I dodged the bullet of ordering up a rebuilt transmission for it, as so far the leak appears to have been arrested and it is shifting better.

Just life as normal, in good ‘ol hot Yuma, AZ.

With the Heat of the Day

2011-05-09T17:03:00.006-07:00

We have this (at most) two inch tall cactus that decided to mightily put forth a bloom. I noticed it at 11:30 and here is how it appeared:

By 1 p.m. I rushed out with my camera again, thrilled to find it fully opened. What a beautiful color and an amazing feat for such a tiny thing!

Kudos to My Mate

2011-05-04T13:46:00.009-07:00

Beyond being a builder, a computer geek, a welder, an electrician, a car mechanic, a fabricator, a jack of all trades, my loving husband has become a baker extraordinaire. Now he has all the neighbors begging for his loaves of bread. These are some just before they hit the oven and then as they came fresh out of the oven. Beautiful aren’t they? Loaded with big hunks of garlic and made of heart-healthy whole wheat.

Remember I told you recently about the smoked meats he’s been doing in our magnificent smoker that my son bought us? Well, this is what happens when you have ready to use smoked turkey and chicken: great home-made pizza and even better smoked turkey tostadas. Yum.

Desert Wind

2011-05-01T19:24:00.004-07:00

It’s come in blustering the last two days but keeping temperatures oh so cool. What a welcome relief this time of year, despite the gusts. We can keep the door wide open just like all winter and enjoy life without air conditioning. The wind isn’t enough to stir up all the dust (11 mph sustained, gusts to 13 mph) but just enough to clear out the air so my morning walk showed a fine relief to the cutting edge of the mountains. That was further enhanced by no one else being visible in the street relief of the landscape—they are all escaping to climates farther north, where as friends tell us, it is still COLD. Our last northern neighbor is escaping tonight to head back to North Dakota. My boondocking cousin outside of Goldfield, NV has had highs of only 49-57 degrees so far. Are you sure you’re correct in heading north yet, Cousin?

Blooming Season II

2011-04-29T08:30:00.012-07:00

I’ve gathered a few more pictures on my walks around the neighborhood since it’s such a colorful time right now. I am still waiting on the emergence of the hoped-for wildflower abundance earlier rain should be bringing. Right now though we are gearing up for our second bout with 100 degree temps of the year—a harbinger of many more to come. Marc finally finished getting the large a/c unit back into the bedroom window for more comfortable sleeping at night. He had thought about cutting holes in the side of the park model to permanently mount the two a/c units but there just really isn’t a conducive wall space to do so, so he just hung them more or less on a temporary basis again in the only two windows into which they would fit. Everything is minuscule scale in a park model.

We spent the past weekend finalizing the total enclosure on the front porch which makes a nice little retreat from which our cat cannot get out. It’s a great spot to watch the mountains and catch a breeze with a cup of morning coffee. Next up will be a permanent set of stairs with a landing. We spent a quiet Easter with Marc taking on cooking duties by smoking a large ham and two whole turkeys. These we cut up and break down for freezing, making for quick and efficient meals later on. In fact, do tonight’s smoked turkey tostadas sound good?

Of all the colorful yards around here, this home takes the cake! I just happened to catch it perfectly one morning with a steady breeze making the flag fly. One wouldn’t think roses would do well in such a merciless climate but this guy has hundreds of them.

I always love these purple flowered trees. This one blooming alongside the Palo Verde caught my eye.

Chollas, of which there are many varieties, are some of the nastiest of cactus, growing reproductive balls of thorns which literally jump off the plant when anything brushes near. The needles are so fine they are like hair and virtually impossible to remove, remaining finely imbedded in skin like the slenderest of splinters. Their vibrant fuchsia flowers are sure pretty though.

The same holds true about some of the prickly pear type cactus as you can see the fineness of the “hair” thorns.

Life in Yuma remains on the same trajectory for us, albeit a little warmer. Too soon, it will have us existing inside almost exclusively.

Blooming Season

2011-04-22T15:41:00.008-07:00

The cacti have awoken and put forth the start of their magnificent blooms lately. It’s a relish now on my morning walks since they prove so fleeting; some bloom for only one day. The Palo Verde trees are also awash in color as the bees and hummingbirds swarm to their sweet smell. The neighborhood is nearly empty now, with only an occasional couple still left to wander the streets during early morning and take it all in.

Marc has become quite the bread maker on his days off. Mom taught him this winter—unfortunately a skill not passed along in the genes to me. These loaves are a fairly heavily textured mixture of white and wheat flour flavored with a little butter, onions and just a hint of garlic, fully risen and ready for the oven. It made for a terrific combination. He has stopped buying any bread for himself but since he hasn’t gotten the hang of the California sourdough yet, I still buy most of mine. With really good bread (the only kind we’ll eat—forget the damn “air” bread that mostly passes for bread these days) costing upwards of $3-4/loaf we’re saving a ton of money since Marc makes his for about 35 cents/loaf and just a little of his time. Besides, beating down the bread in between rise cycles reduces his stress!

I ended up volunteering quite a bit this past week; with many of the volunteers gone north but no drop in business of the seniors who need help (since for the most part they stay all year round), the ones of us left are shouldering many more requests. It’s all good though since I received three referrals for my new business and had my first income! There will still be much to be done to build a business and have it become as active as I want it to be, but this gives me hope. Even the temperatures haven’t been too bad, staying in the 90’s and of course, under constant Yuma blue skies.

Happy Easter everyone!

Seniors

2011-04-14T16:40:00.004-07:00

We got a short reprieve from Yuma’s torrid pace of summer-like heat after setting a record 101 degrees on April 1st. One night we even enjoyed a gentle rain falling most of the night which will surely bring a surge of wildflowers in about a month. I’ll look forward to that since it looks like we will still be here!

I’ll repeat to you my pleasure at working with the seniors that I meet, transporting them around town, mainly to doctor’s appointments. They never cease to amaze and tickle me. It is a true honor to work with them helping them in my own little way, so to that end I have decided to test the water with my own business. Naming my service, “Like a Great Neighbor” Housekeeping and Senior In-Home Care I hope to gain enough referrals to maintain some sort of income stream. Only time will tell, of course, how this will turn out or become a complete flop but since I am here and think I see a need, I might as well try, yes?

My own senior mother celebrated her 84th birthday without us but at least my daughter was able to drive over from Portland for a visit and nice dinner, even though Mom had to bake her own birthday cake! She maintains she is doing well all considered, but also says that she is very lonely and without purpose. I see that a lot with the seniors I work with—I sure wish there was someone like me in Bend to stop by and check in on my mom. Maybe it is some guilt that now drives my passion to work with these seniors but all I know is that it feels good. What I can't do for my own mother, I can do for them. That’s enough for now.

Only in Yuma!

2011-04-06T06:52:00.005-07:00

It was party time again last evening, as Ron and Jan, our neighbors across the street, threw happy hour for the last time this snowbird season. You will note Jan holding a drink her daughter-in-law invented for their sports bar, Brewers. Liking jalapenos a whole bunch, Courtney decided to slice a couple up and throw them into a bottle of Limon Bacardi Rum. Let steep for a few days. Then drink straight shots. It is surprisingly smooth and delicious! So under warm Arizona desert air, we enjoyed margaritas, bourbon slushies, and various other adult beverages and had a merry old time.

I am still engaged with helping the seniors in my volunteer position with Helping Hands and watching the parade of RVs now taking flight and snaking their way across all compass points as they leave Yuma for another year. I now understand how we came to the term “snowbirds” since they really do appear to all take flight at once, just like a flock of birds. Within a few weeks our neighborhood will once again be almost barren of life.

Yes, we are still here and likely will be at least for a few more weeks. Marc got a referral to help a guy out with some remodel work and he’s also engaged in doing a welding project on a gate for a friend of a friend. And, the axle project still needs more tweaking. As long as there is work to be had, we’ll remain. After that, we still don’t exactly have in mind where we will head; only a vague generalization until we do further “heart to heart” conversations about what comes next with our mixed up life.

The Loss of an Old Friend

2011-03-27T10:58:00.014-07:00

I’ve always maintained that RV’s are like a magic carpet—whisking you away to whatever new realm you choose to occupy, far beyond mere trucks and cars. A sister ship has surely been our Goldwing motorcycle. We rode on her back above and beyond time, traversing avenues we never dreamed existed. Weather was a constant since you feel every nuance when you are exposed—totally unlike riding in an enclosed vehicle or as motorcyclists call it “a cage”.

Memories gained on her back are sharper and more cutting than other types of travel. You taste the air as you suck it in, breathe it and smell what is there every foot of the way. Passing fragrances heighten the experience as you marvel at the shadow dancing alongside. Sometimes it’s you; sometimes it’s something else as the tree shadows pass your vision like light flickering on an old nickelodeon. The world seems much larger from the seat of a two-wheeler. Well, it is. After all, you have the entire sky dancing overhead.

The power of takeoff rumbles in the seat of your pants and in your chest as gravity throws you back and the exhilaration is unleashed. With 1800 cubic inches of engine between your legs, it is little more than a hop, skip and you are well ahead of any car traffic on your tail, doing 100 mph in what seems like split seconds. Merging onto the freeway any kind of chore? Ha! Catch us if you can! You are one with the air. You lean to the curves and become the machine as she tips so low to the ground it’s a fight to maintain control against centrifugal force. But that power is alluring…and sucks you in to become even more daring, racing through the curves.

We all know it’s a dance with death. One little mistake, one second’s lapse of attention, and she will sail like a lead weight off in a straight line into a ditch or off a cliff. Although I am not a risk-taker, that allure even captured me for a time. Despite my fear, I climbed aboard and went for the gusto. I became a little different person that year.

I stand in front of her now; this trusty steed we are selling to a new joy rider and wonder how I will miss her. I find it funny, looking back, that the last best year of our lives was in 2006—the year we put over 12,000 miles on her just roaming the highways and byways of Wisconsin on weekends. We made her pull a trailer so we could camp; we covered her in her blanket when we had to be away for a few hours. We met terrific fellow riders and felt we fit in. I was terrified at some near misses—cars passing mere inches away and not paying attention; foul weather like rain and sleet on the freeway or winds that had us leaning against them at a 30 degree angle. But beyond and in spite of it all I knew I was living. That’s what being on the edge does to you. And we were happy. I remember being supremely happy. There was always a new adventure waiting for us—just twist the key and go.

The world has changed since then. She is an asset we can no longer afford. Future dreams of any escape on her back have long gone by the wayside although at one time we had many long, cross country trips planned. We will miss out on those forever. We feel like crying at the parting of this old friend who represents so much of what we used to be that recent life has taken from us.

Her name is Road Gnome. Go Road Gnome, and find a new home with someone who will ride you as exhilaratingly as we once did. You are ours no longer—but you were born to run. Much like Camelot we can never return, but we will always have the pictures and memories of those few exquisite years of daring. Man, I can’t tell you how this hurts….a chapter of life closing that you know you will never have again.

To Blog or Not to Blog

2011-03-12T12:27:00.005-07:00

Life hasn’t really inspired much in me lately so I’m finding it’s been very difficult to come up with something entertaining for my blog. In fact, I’ve been wondering if it is better off shut down. The moment I think along those lines however I also think well, what happens when I may have something I want to say or communicate? Or some sweet, glorious pictures I want to show off?

One of my favorite RV blogs has recently shut down. Not off entirely; but just going on a hiatus of only intending to post when something so inspirational happens, that they feel they can do so willingly and joyfully and not feel it as an obligation. As Marc and I move towards probably what is going to become a much more static and stationary experience in one location, I am left wondering if anything inspirational or novel will happen that I want to blog about? Does a blog of one’s mundane existence really qualify to reach out and grab readers’ attentions when so much else is going on in their lives?

Every one of us has the minutia of everyday life that is similar. It was never my intention to regurgitate explicitly what we do with our days, starting off with what we ate for breakfast. I had always hoped to capture at least the spirit of a new day, a new thought, a new perspective, a new horizon. Without traveling and new scenery, how does one do that?

Bear with me as I ponder through this impasse. Expectations are hard to fulfill sometimes.

Meanwhile, life under the undercarriage continues since Marc’s return from Bend. The task of the axle change-out has proven twice as hard and difficult as he ever imagined. It had to be done, but on the other hand is like a “if I knew then what I know now” situation. It’s probably a good thing he is at the no going back stage, eh?

Life at the Crossroads

2011-03-03T11:24:00.003-07:00

I have always loved this picture of Marc and it seems to aptly describe our current situation. We were in Wisconsin on one of our every weekend bike trips when the road suddenly petered out and offered up a “Detour” sign. Like any good navigator does, I offered him up a road map so he could see the bigger picture. The bike has GPS built in, but often the bigger picture looks somehow different.

In most lives, there comes a time when we are presented with those crossroads that Robert Frost so aptly wrote about. Take one and you go on to live probably a vastly different life than had you chosen the other. The problem at the time is how do you know which one will be best?

Marc and I have spent agonizing hours contemplating our next move. Recently we’ve felt on the edge of one of those Y’s in life—go left and be flung off to this trajectory; go right and travel to a far different destination. Life isn’t going to allow us to remain on our previous main path; it just doesn’t work that way.

So, once we have our trailer axle fix done, it will be time to choose one of those pathways and commit to something we hope with all our hearts won’t be the lesser of the two. For us, the choice boils down to continuing our wandering ways or to dive back into a static lifestyle of routine and commitment to one location, for likely the rest of our lives. Hey, most others manage to do it….

The Old: "I just want to see the sun."

2011-02-23T07:13:00.002-07:00

There are no pretty pictures in today's story.

They are courageous. They are stoic. They are proud. They seem accepting. What has life taught them that I still seem to be learning? As I work with them I feel the need for a new paradigm.

It didn’t happen when my mom was here with us—for she is too close to me. As I pick them up in my car, usually to give them medical transport, these others are strangers, but only for a moment as their sad stories unfold like a blanket around me, suffocating at times. But I force myself to listen, to acknowledge, to learn, to question; and to take away a far more valuable lesson than they ever realize they are teaching me.

In a few short weeks my world has shifted a little. Marc and I are down, we are nearly beat, somewhat broken; but how far worse off are these proud seniors who still face the end of their days with some manner of resilience. Where does it come from? Can I get some of it too? Is it because they are members of the Greatest Generation, as Tom Brokaw put it? Did life lessons learned from living though the Great Depression give them this ability to remain calm in the face of such personal devastation? Why can’t I be more like them?

Will it make me a better person to try? I think so. I am already humbled beyond belief at the trust they throw at my feet. Their stories, their ailments, their day to day living is excruciating yet they remain so vitally attached to living, that it can’t help but touch my heart.

My whining becomes trivial by comparison. There is tiny, stooped Louise, whose former breast cancer has metastasized to her liver. She is dying and knows it. Doctors aren’t sure if the latest chemotherapy protocol is doing any good, so after one trip to the clinic to see the doctor, we go on another day for a dye scan. She will get the results late this month. She stays in winter in a small, older single wide on a Foothills lot with her equally old husband, who has both cardiac and Alzheimer problems. She told me they take care of each other, but it is mostly she who does the care for him as he is incontinent. She also has bad macular degeneration so she can’t drive very far or on busy roadways, nor see to read so I end up reading her the personal health information form she is to fill out for the dye scan. It almost seems intrusive that I now know her health history.

I am in amazement that these two old people in such poor health flew down from their home in a small town in eastern Washington. “It’s the last year” she tells me quietly. “Dean just gets so depressed in all those long, gray cold winter days, he begged me to come down this year so he could see the sun, but we really shouldn’t have. My chemo schedule has been all fouled up.” “We need to put the place up for sale”, she adds sadly, “but we sure don’t want to do it. We just hate to leave; we’ve been coming here for so long…since 1985.” The end of an era and soon, the end of their lives I’m sure. I wonder how it will be any different when they return home. She tells me her kids lead busy lives and can’t be depended upon to always be around to help out; their small town is a 90 minute drive to the cancer center so when she gets a treatment it’s an all day ordeal. I ask her gently about the possibility of selling their home and moving into an assisted living facility but she says “No, Dean made me promise that he could die at home.” Knowing how Alzheimer’s can advance and cripple every bodily function I wonder how she can deny what is to come. Maybe for now its best not thought of; she probably has no choice but to live in the moment.

Another day, another life lesson. I transport Chris to the Yuma hospital for some outpatient treatment, whose wife also elects to ride along. We chitchat and I get some background on them. They too, are from Washington and have been coming to Yuma for a long time in winters. This too will be their last year; their tidy and immaculate park model in a gated RV park is already up for sale. They live in an assisted living facility in their home town. Coincidentally, they tell me the building is so historic, that the wife went there to high school and graduated in the very building they now live in! I laugh and say “So, you’ve come full circle in your life, huh?” They get a kick out of that.

Chris has some mobility issues, so we secure a wheelchair and I wheel him through the hospital corridors as if I am wearing nurses white, to his treatment room. “I’ll be back to pick you up in 45 minutes” I tell them. On our drive home we talk about medical issues and how they become the main focus of our lives once we become the elderly. Everyone knows it of course; everyone dreads it, so I am curious when I talk with people like this, essentially, how is it you cope on a daily basis? Patty tells me it’s just what you learn to do. She says no one wants to hear you complain and complaining doesn’t do any good anyway so you might as well just take what that one day will offer you and make the best of it. The hardest part for them was giving up the independence of having their own vehicle.

We become old, we become sick—most often with deadly diseases—we lose our ability to care for ourselves—we lose our vaunted independence as we see it just disappear in bits and pieces like the desert dust. I stop and think: am I appreciating the days I have right now enough? I am astute enough to know that since we are all aging; my day today is really the best I am ever going to be physically. It’s all downhill from here at my age—I need to make sure I make the most of what I have right now, even if it’s not the life I wish I was able to live. Wow, light bulb moment for me!

These oldsters…there’s a lot to learn from them if we just listen.

Weather Changes

2011-02-19T07:50:00.003-07:00

The wind blew in just the faint scent of rain this morning as the sunrise blazed a glorious crowning glory above the mountains. I no more than made it inside the house and showered after my morning soak in the spa, when the skies let loose. I guess we can’t complain though since it is still warm out.

Marc has not made it out of Bend yet. Indeed, he’s been putting up with daily snow and some temperatures in the teens as he’s struggled to do many maintenance items on mom’s home and both of my kids’ cars. The fix-it man. He managed to get the Freightliner stuck for two days in the back of the lot trying to park the flat bed trailer out of the way. It will be at least another week before I see him. My days stretch out pretty long but I’ve tried to keep busy with my new volunteer job. I hope I can blog about it one day but I am still digesting just how humble it has made me feel to help these seniors who are left with very little beyond their ailments and their old age. It makes my life seem easy by comparison.

The New America

2011-02-13T19:28:00.003-07:00

I read today where America’s wealthy are starting once again to spend like there is no tomorrow. Fifteen hundred dollar “bobbles” like Coach purses are flying out the door like crazy. On the other hand, the CEO of WalMart told shareholders, whose shoppers are of course the dregs of this economic downturn, that they are sticking to basics and actually shying away from name brands in favor of WalMart’s Great Value brand. Of course. It’s the little they can do to combat the government denied inflation on foodstuffs which is measured in +80-100% on things like wheat and sugar. Even our morning coffee now ranges 48% higher.

I have a daughter who is amazingly bright, sophisticated, beautiful, alluring, and not yet 24 years old. She’s at the top of her game. She has been on numerous interviews but has yet to land a job since moving back to Portland, OR over two months ago. The interview process is now very arduous, sometimes encompassing four different interviews with various department heads. One wrong move, one wrong sentence and you are out. After all, there are 900 others who responded to this ad which ran less than one week; all holding marketing degrees just like hers.

So I think about Marc and I and what possible chance we may hold to realistically get any kind of good jobs. Please people—remember there is still a terrible disconnect in this country between the haves and the have nots. Too many of us are still unemployed—our inquiries, our applications not even acknowledged. Interviews for people our age just don’t seem to happen. We’re now without any safety net, unemployment compensation having run out long ago. The only edge we possess is eating up my retirement, which goes month by month by the wayside. It can never be replaced. So what happens when we get old enough we can’t work and no longer have this money saved because it’s all being spent now?

I fear for us but I fear even more for the future of America. Maybe the Bible was right; Armageddon is not far off. Despite the government’s assurances that things are improving (because everyone knows the stock market is going ballistic for the wealthy) we have more people on food assistance (stamps) than we’ve ever had in the history of our country. Fully one quarter to one third of you out there who had counted on the equity in your home to provide some assistance or wealth in your old age no longer have any. You are underwater on your loans or your equity has evaporated like a ghost in the wind. They tell us this isn’t easily fixed—the current prognosis is that it will be 2013 until the depreciating values even start to level off! Then a possible further five years of bumping along a bottom. There will be no demand for so many homes, because the vast majority will have very little wealth left to buy anything. Our middle class has disappeared if you haven’t been paying attention, in just a scant five years.

I can believe this because we are living it right now. We went from a comfortable standard of living in a now defunct industry (construction), to not being able to get jobs, to now living at poverty level—all in the seemingly blink of an eye, at an age where chances are there will be no recovery. Or certainly, not on a level to which we lived before. Welcome to the new normal they tell us.

Yeah, right.

Introspective

2011-02-08T17:56:00.002-07:00

Dealing with the heartbreak of my mother’s mind these past few months has really taken it out of me. How long does grieving last? I was somewhat on the outs with my father when he died and thus haven’t felt it nearly as keenly as my mother. My father changed so much over the past five years particularly, that I dared call him the “imposter” who had taken over my true father’s body, as in who stole my real dad? My grief, I remember, happened several years ago for the man I truly loved. My mom unfortunately had to continue living with him, to see and experience his slow degeneration and the deterioration of his ability to communicate. By the time he died he could hardly hear any conversation.

My mom left this morning. We had a rough initial few weeks here; more than I can relate. But in the last few weeks we seemed to have finally come together on a more even keel—she was more light hearted and accepting. She would sit outside on our patio in the pleasant weather, just drinking it in. We developed a ritual of playing Mexican Train about 3 p.m. almost daily over our glasses of wine. Before we knew it, it would be time to wrap it up and get dinner. She so loved that game she decided to buy a set for herself but I don’t know who she will be able to play it with. My fear is that she will see no one at her home in Bend save for my brother.

So today I went about my morning very sad at her leave-taking. Thank God, I had a volunteer experience to spend my day at, which totally took my mind off my husband, my mom, and her dog Rocky suddenly missing from this space. All I hear tonight is the ticking of my clock on the wall as I imagine where they are in their journey home. I didn’t realize when she was here that I might miss her, maybe forever; after all she is nearly 84. Her last words to me were “I hope I get to see you again soon.” I never thought I would admit it, but life is suddenly emptier without her here, looking out through the RV windows. I can't live with her; I can't live without her.

Things Have Been Busy!

2011-02-06T09:36:00.003-07:00

Not that we’ve done anything of major note lately; certainly nothing out of the ordinary to blog about. Marc has worked on the axles which will take much tweaking so he is only partially through the process. Next up, he needs the springs which are being made in Redmond, OR before going farther on the install. Since there appears to be a weather window coming up, the decision was made for him to return Mom to Bend starting Tuesday. They will make a couple stops along the way in California, staying with friends and relatives. I will remain in Yuma as with Rocky along, there really isn’t any room for me!

We’ve entertained lots of out of town company lately; ending up last night with RV friends Don & Ellen gathered around the outdoor fire under starry skies as a proper send-off for Mom. We had a wonderful dinner of smoked, slow cooked pork ribs and mom’s great macaroni salad—al fresco of course, under the gazebo. Yuma is finally warming once again after a short two day arctic blast that crippled much of the rest of the nation. Here, it just destroyed some of the vegetable agricultural crops, so expect your veggie prices to jump people.

Mom, Marc and I have spent many hours under the gazebo teaching her to play Mexican Train. She is so enamoured of the game, she went out and bought her own set. In addition, I recently signed up to be a volunteer with a local organization which helps out seniors. I’ve committed to a few days a week starting this week with driving a senior to her eye doctor appointment and also helping to organize, sort and price things for the second big flea market held as a fundraiser. You may recall mom and I having gone to the first one which I previously blogged about. Volunteers get first dibs on the merchandise so it may prove to be worthwhile as well as fun.

Marc and I feel the winds of change coming soon. Having no income is pressing us to consider many options—all of which will require moving on soon from Yuma; probably as soon as the axle replacement can be completed. There will be more about this issue as we sort the options out.

Our Pony is Getting New Shoes

2011-01-23T17:03:00.008-07:00

Our RV has grown long in the tooth traversing America’s highways and it hasn’t always been a sweet ride for her. Unquestionably overloaded, and subjected to not only some very rough pavement but off-road boondocking, this baby’s undercarriage has suffered mightily over the years. It finally came time to perform some major surgery to prolong her life, so we bit the bullet of a major expense and ordered up three new sets of axles and brakes from Dexter Axles, all custom made to specs Marc figured he needed.

The difference between the old and new is not merely striking; it is astounding. Whereas the others were three inches (light duty) in circumference; the new ones are five (heavy duty). The brakes go from two and one quarter inches to four and the weight bearing capacity of each axle jumped from 6,000 pounds to 10,000. These axles also enjoy an oil bath so will mitigate the maintenance headache of wheel bearing greasing.

Knowing we planned to do this project this winter, last summer while in Virginia working, Marc bought the higher capacity heavy duty tires and wheels that would be needed to go along with the new axles. After all, your axle may hold 10,000 pounds but if your tires won’t correspondingly hold that, you will be constantly blowing tires. It was a slight leap of faith, given that the axles hadn’t been measured and manufactured as yet so one of the first orders of business after unloading the axles and wheeling them onto the lot was checking to see that, indeed, the new tires and wheels would fit. Success!

Next will come the hard part of doing the installation by himself. That’s my guy!

For Those Stuck in Bad Winter Weather

2011-01-16T13:03:00.024-07:00

There was a time long ago when we were anticipating going fulltime when we still couldn’t leave the bonds of responsibility and household ties. Earlier, some friends we had met through Escapees were able to go about their fulltime travels well before us. They maintained an entertaining website featuring marvelous pictures of where they had been or where they currently happened to be. Nothing has ever made me feel as jealous as seeing them hiking and enjoying the desert southwest in the wide open spaces which I myself longed to be in. I must have been sitting in Bend’s cold and snow as I sat gazing at their colorful photos featuring rocks, cactus and vistas of 80 or 100 miles rolling off into the perfect blue sky distance as they stood atop mesas they had hiked, and it was just purely almost more than I could bear.

It’s not my intent in this post to give readers in bad weather climates more than they can bear. Despite my longing when I looked at my friends’ photos; knowing that there was a place out there where it was sunny and nice lifted my spirits to even think on it. I hope our day here can do the same for you.

To the east of us sits a barren set of mountains called the Gila. Actually, there are a string of rock mountains running all the way into Mexico from here, with different names. I don’t know what constitutes the end of one range and the beginning of another since they all meld together. On Saturday we took up some exploration of the eastern side of our mountains, which follow south from the tiny town of Wellton onto the bombing range. The range is passable to all if you have the free pass, four wheel drive, and call in to the Marine Air Force base first to make sure no bombing exercises are planned for the area you intend to be.

Out on these washboard sand roads we always intend to go further than in actuality we manage to do. We had wanted to see the “tanks”, those areas up in the mountains which hold springs and life-giving water. Ha; we made it about one third the way! Despite being off course and distracted, we happened upon an area that filled us with the curiosity of discovery. Here was cactus we had never seen before; here was a grove of saguaros (see previous blog); here was a type of rock unlike any we have noted in the area, filled with caves, and here were shrubs and small desert trees unknown to us.

It’s an empty space where the only sound reaching our ears was the wind. It’s wild and is achingly and starkly beautiful. So much as our friends did for us so long ago; I present here just a photo montage of our day. If you need to get away…do so at least through my pages.

The Death of a Giant

2011-01-16T07:42:00.015-07:00

We spot her from a distance, entangled with a stranglehold on an equally dissected desert tree. Even from this distance we can tell she is dying.

Now stooped and twisted like the very old, she was once a mighty giant, aged; a matriarch in her time. We note her lifeblood, black, oozing down her thick wooden trunk; and at her feet, her former arms are slung askew on the desert floor as though chopped off by the Terminator. The death of a saguaro takes a long, drawn out route.

Saguaros begin life usually beneath a nurse tree or shrub which provides a moister, shadier environment. Perhaps this matriarch spent her lifetime growing in this tree’s clutches. Growing only an inch a year, they may take 30 years to grow an arm and sometimes last up to 200 years before they topple. Their shiny skin expands like an accordion to drink up moisture when it’s available in the desert and thus they can add up to a ton of weight. They flower every year due to this hidden reserve of water, but the white flowers are fleeting (usually in May and June) and their opening occurs at night. By the next mid-morning they again close up forever, either pollinated or not.

They are majestic sentinels of the Arizona Sonoran desert; Arizona’s state flower, and highly protected by law. Their various shapes enthrall us as we travel the back dirt roads taking our pictures.

Claudia’s New Happy Place

2011-01-13T18:40:00.018-07:00

I haven’t mentioned our new project that we’ve been working on. Several years ago we had noted the use of those canvas canopy/gazebos on many of the lots and thought they looked like a good economical shade structure. With my mother here this winter I thought it would be nice if we could go ahead and purchase one so she would be able to sit outside out of the sun and sometimes the wind. Many of the gazebos come with full curtains and can be totally closed up much like a tent. I found one that has both curtains and bug netting so either/or can be utilized. Yuma rarely has any bugs of note in winter but in very late spring there can be flies that invade for awhile.

Yuma is notorious for its sometimes windy days during winter so Marc figured he had better secure the legs in a permanent fashion to concrete footings so the gazebo didn’t end up in someone else’s yard. The first task was putting all the metal pieces together in the approximate area where it would be sited.

Next we removed the gravel, and then he proceeded to install an electrical connection up one leg directly wired into the park model panel. This allowed for the possibility of hanging a chandelier, which can further be (via extension cord) quickly taken down in inclement weather and at the end of the season.

Once the footings were poured, we had Mexican brick delivered directly from Mexico, then two workers set about placing it in a herringbone pattern. This brick is not grouted; sand is used to secure its placement, much like the interlocking pavers we have in other parts of our patio. The Mexican brick defines this space as being separate from the rest of the patio, which was what we were after, plus the fact that the cost ran about one third what pavers would have been. We purchased extra and Marc intends on continuing the pattern into the back of the lot to the storage shed and possibly around the spa. But that’s later.

After washing the dust off all the furniture, we moved it to its new home inside the gazebo, hung the chandelier and curtains and now it’s all ready for game playing or evening al fresco dining in front of the fire pit. I have in mind additional decorating items I will eventually add to make it more like the outdoor room I envision but for now, it’s time to go enjoy it! Wow, do we love this!

What Do Crazy Old Snowbirds and Teenagers Have in Common? Or a Little Tequila Never Hurt Anyone!

2011-01-09T09:23:00.031-07:00

Obviously, I’m starting at the tail end of this story when a bunch of 55-85 year old snowbirds got busted for being too noisy. What? It wasn’t even 8:45 p.m.—who turned us in?

Was it the wild conga line of old gals waiting to dance with Tony Topete, the most marvelous mariachi crooner this side of Baja?

Or was it Jan’s Mexican rendition with Tony that set things in motion or the fact that she was barkeep of the margaritas for much of the night?

Was it the fact that even my mother finally broke loose and hit the floor as a hoofer after doing her stint of crooning with Tony?

Perhaps it was Stan convincing Bill and Tony that he really did need to perform his Elvis impression on the karaoke machine?

Or maybe it goes all the way back to the cook fest of all that Mexican food and the guys slaving over two grills and carne asada to die for, huh?

Whatever it was—we all thought it was one of the best parties ever! This all came about to honor Pete and Betty, our next door neighbors, who due to Pete’s health find it necessary to sell their home here and remain closer to their main residence near Portland. They will be sorely missed in the neighborhood but I think all of us agree; that was one sweet send-off. How many 70+ year old guys can say their party was busted by the cops? There’s plenty of life left in these old geezers!

An Ode to an Old Year

2010-12-31T12:14:00.004-07:00

First of all I wish all my readers and their families a joyful New Year. If you’re traveling or partying, be safe.

Cold has descended upon the Arizona desert and I’ve sequestered myself indoors all day, whining as if I was in the more brutal parts of the country instead of sitting in sunshine and current temps of 51 degrees. But it was 32 degrees before the sun was up this morning, which is outrageous behavior for old man winter in Yuma! All I could think of was “my poor tomato plant”!

Actually, I’ve been thinking about a lot lately but just not communicating it to these pages. This is not a year I’ll be sorry to see go; indeed, the past three years we haven’t been sorry to see go—ever hopeful that a new year will bring better possibilities. That hasn’t seemed to happen. This year saw both Marc and I lose our fathers. This year became more of an economic struggle with the two of us only working a total of four months and being unemployed once again.

The year ends with some heartache at having my mother here. Her adjustment to Dad’s death just hasn’t seemed to kick into place as yet and my role now has been to be the “mother” to the Mother. It is uncomfortable and alien for me to say the least. I never aspired to be a day-to-day mother at 61—indeed, sometimes I anguish enough over my own kids and their tumultuous lives, let alone having to try and now direct my mother’s life; tend to all her business like it is my own, and ferret out ways to keep her occupied and from further wasting away. I feel sorry for her that she can’t be more; I feel guilty that I expect that out of her when she has never known anything different than caring for my father. What more can I possibly do for this impossibly sad woman? The question haunts my days and follows me into miserable and sleepless nights.

So don’t come around the Duske household saying “Happy New Year”, OK? One follows another as if falling into a tragic abyss and I don’t know when they will end.

Come out warm again Ol Sol, for you are one of the few things I count on. If a person can’t be warm in Yuma in winter, where can they be warm?

Merry Christmas 2010!

2010-12-25T12:42:00.009-07:00

Another day, another party around here! Here’s Christmas Eve with our neighbors in Stan and Patty’s darling casita:

Marc and I hope all our readers, friends and family enjoy a safe and wonderful holiday. Back at ya soon!

Indoor Sport of the Season

2010-12-18T16:26:00.013-07:00

Party time in the neighborhood! Rollie and Judy, our neighbors three lots down, invited everyone to bring munchies and a gift to their beautiful pool home and let the good times roll.

After satiation we all got down to the business of opening our exchange gifts and let the stealing begin!

From My Porch...

2010-12-16T16:15:00.003-07:00

Greeting the new morning.

Fortuna Frolic

2010-12-15T14:19:00.011-07:00

On a warm recent day we piled in the front of the truck with mom while Rocky was tied in back and all headed out about ten miles southeast to the Fortuna mine site. I have written previously about this ghost mining town—a neat thing to see and right in our backyard. We traversed the washboard main road out until making the turn due east up the wash and the rocky trail which leads to the mining area. We were surprised to see an entire group of people here, obviously on a tour of some sort. We later found out that the Range Warden offers tours when enough people call to request it and his schedule can accommodate it.

After a picnic lunch and looking around a bit; we headed out again but due north on a different return route. This boulder and rock-strewn trail hugs the mountains and the scenery is much more interesting and filled with cactus. All the roads in this area are formidable and not to be taken lightly so we now come prepared with plenty of water, shovels, spare tires and GPS. A ten mile walk back in this stuff would be a killer!

When in Rome...

2010-12-10T19:01:00.011-07:00

What’s that saying: Do as the Romans do? The Gila Mountain Church not too far from us was offering up a city-wide yard sale Friday and Saturday so I hauled my mother out as the sun was coming up and we fought for a parking space alongside the roadway. Lines were long and we didn’t realize there were several segments, all separately fenced off from one another and wouldn’t you know it, we waited in the men’s line, i.e. sports and outdoor equipment, tools, electronics, etc. Upon realizing our mistake once inside we quickly retreated to other areas!

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many grey-hairs in one place together so it didn’t take me long among the pressing crowds to swipe up several treasures—beer cozies at .20 and several kitchen gadgets like strainers and whisks at the same price. Topped off by two new lacy embellished pillow cases, all pressed and folded neatly for $1 and I was ready to bear the checkout lines. An hour later, and we were free to make our way back down the road to the car with an out of pocket expense of $2.20.

This day followed on the heels of earlier this week also cavorting among the grey-hairs in downtown Yuma at the Welcome Back Winter Visitor’s festival. That was mostly a bust for us as we didn’t care to divulge our personal information in order to enter the myriad drawings for free dinners, etc. that all the vendors were using to suck suspects in. We did have fun touring the downtown businesses however, which consist mostly of antique and gift stores.

In another post, I’ll update you on our four-wheeling trip out to Fortuna. Yeah, we’ve been keeping busy! And Tucker loves being back “home”.

Why We Love Yuma in Winter

2010-12-10T06:21:00.002-07:00

Settling In

2010-12-05T11:02:00.006-07:00

I never tire of the blazing sunrises and sunset this state seems to offer up so
magnanimously. This morning Old Sol created virtual flames licking from the sky. In an attempt to get Mom out a little bit, I am back to feathering my nest. Or maybe tweaking it would be a better phrase. The old ice cream stool I purchased in Rapid City needed a plant and I decided the anti-gravity lounge chairs really needed some pillows to make them go from comfortable to “oh I don’t want to leave this spot” cozy in front of the fire pit. I was looking for some Mexican serape type material but will likely have to go into Algodones for that, so a stop at JoAnn’s Fabric provided some make-do colorful pattern with blue that tied in perfectly with the blue accents in the rest of my yard.

After trimming my pygmy palm I decided it needed some allure for the holidays, so I adorned it with three strings of lights which will provide a welcoming glow to nighttime al fresco dining and entertaining. Most of our neighbors are all set to arrive by early next week and I’m sure the parties will start in earnest soon thereafter.

With no room left on the lot, Marc parked my car in the street and proceeded to play shade tree mechanic with a bunch of maintenance items—new brakes, new belts, tire rotation, oil change. Walkers of the neighborhood looked a little askance as they passed by, some even offering to bring over their cars too; while Marc was just happy to be back amongst his tools.

His to-do list is quite extensive after finishing with my car. There is maintenance on the Freightliner as well and then the major axle renovation to the fifth wheel. Both trailers need new steps built which he will do out of welded metal so they don’t rot so rapidly in the desert sun. The fire pit needs a brick stand built under it and a buried gas line run to it. Let’s see…I’m sure more will come to mind soon. Vacation? What vacation!

The Trip South

2010-12-02T10:15:00.008-07:00

After an hour of running ice water over the slides in an attempt to clear them of ice and snow so they would retract, standing high up on the slippery metal ladder, Marc figured he just about had things ready to go. By the time we left, it was a chilly 19 at 11 a.m. Needless to say, we didn’t get as far as we wanted our first day out—making it to McDermott just across the Nevada line. As we tried to settle in and deploy the living room slide, it ground to a guttural, groaning halt. It was frozen into place, now in the closed position. With an interior walkway of less than two feet, it made for close quarters for three adults, a cat and a 100 lb. dog. Nineteen was the best the day would see as the nighttime temps dropped to a bone-chilling three degrees and our generator quit working. All water lines, dump valves, and plumbing remained solidly frozen and we lived, cooked, and washed up off of two ten gallon water jugs.

Two days later, the slide finally opened for our stay at the Beatty Hot Springs RV Park but water lines remained frozen. Having some space felt wonderful; having our first showers in days at the small bathhouse felt even better! Pressing onward the next day, Saturday, we finally thawed enough to obtain water in the RV for our boondock stay at Quartzsite but the pump wouldn’t stop running and was spewing water all over. It will be another fix on Marc’s to-do list to replace it along with the horrendous job of pulling the generator from the truck—at least an eight hour ordeal, to figure out what is wrong with it this time.

Finally able to relax and enjoy the desert ambiance and warmth of Quartzsite was priceless. Quartzsite already has a fair assortment of boondockers and we also noted that Lake Havasu and Parker were really abuzz with recreationalists and ATVers enjoying their Thanksgiving weekend. Traffic was nonstop. But nothing was like what greeted us upon our arrival in Yuma—the place is crawling with Snowbirds already! We were astounded to find nearly every lot in our area of the Foothills already full, with owners back to their casitas and renters occupying every single hookup on the rental lots. This normally doesn’t happen until January! If you are an RVer and have plans to come to Yuma this winter and don’t already have a reservation, I would venture to say you may be boondocking in the desert somewhere. There’s no room left at the Inn.

Getting Out of Here—MAYBE

2010-11-24T14:12:00.008-07:00

The latest arctic blast has partially paralyzed the Pacific NW and left us six inches deep in the fluffy white stuff with overnight readings of zero degrees. While admittedly beautiful, I hate it. We now have no water in the RV and since we are on only 15 amps of electric and thus no electric heat, our two powerful Olympic Wave catalytic propane heaters only provide an inside temperature of 58-65 degrees, both at full bore. Our front door handle is matted with frozen frost inside, as are all of our windows. Icicles cling to awnings meant for the sun. We burn through a 10 lb bottle of propane every three days (i.e. $25). As is her usual winter-want, central Oregon tries her mighty best to suck us in and not let us go.

We certainly plan to try our best tomorrow however—the Saturn is trying on her newly adjusted chains like a pony with new shoes which will hopefully allow me to control her movements over the mountain passes and snow packed highways. Oregon doesn’t use salt for road maintenance so driving on hard packed icy snow is the only option here. The big hang-up will be if Marc can get the RV slides to retract—right now they are frozen solid in their open positions. Ah, ain’t life fun in a northern winter?

A Cooking Knight

2010-11-23T10:03:00.006-07:00

Dressed in his black cooking smock, he’s a moving blur across the see-into kitchen as he reminds me of a Ninja. Here to there and quickly back again, his focus never waning as he jumps between the tasks of being the head chef at Kayo’s Restaurant--my son has invited us all to come as his treat, for a feast to celebrate my upcoming birthday. So despite a blizzard-like night, we do just that Monday evening.

As we settle in and peruse the extensive and upscale menu I get half way down the day’s fresh seafood specials and don’t have to look any further as my choice has been decided once the entrée “Razor Clams” jumps to my attention. Other than the Pacific Northwest, the only place they are dug, I don’t think razor clams are even offered on menus and I can only say what a delicacy the entire world is missing out on. Yes, Oregon; how I have missed your seafood! Add in a wonderful salad, my son’s homemade French bread with a smoky salmon spread, a 5 oz. lobster tail and cold glass of Chardonnay and I’ve all the makings of the most wonderful dinner I’ve ever had.

Marc is well pleased with his Cajun style, smoky and blackened huge prime rib (also with lobster tail) and my mom is thrilled with her bacon-wrapped Filet Mignon. The restaurant is newly opened and very comforting inside with its plush interior, beamed wood ceiling, crackling fireplace and shutters that hide much of the falling snowfall.

Thank you, son, for such a wonderful evening and birthday present. Your cooking is truly on par with the best we’ve ever had and it will be a meal I will never forget.

Our Thanksgiving

2010-11-21T19:19:00.008-07:00

Mom outdid herself this year, feeling the need to have her family close and supportive. We opted to celebrate Thanksgiving early so that both my son and daughter-in-law could join us as today was their only common day off this entire week. Hillary has to work on Thanksgiving. Daughter Rachael however, was unable to make the trip over the snowy mountain pass from Seattle as she has to work tomorrow. With the weather forecast, it appears like the end of the coming week could be the best weather window for us to try and escape the Central Oregon deep freeze to the warmer south, so maybe it will be possible for us to be traveling on the real Thanksgiving.

A moment of silence was observed for my dad just before we sliced into the huge apple pie Mom had made with his help. He had peeled and cut the apples for her and made comment that he wished he didn’t have to wait until Thanksgiving before being able to enjoy it. Alas, that was not to be, so I think it made Mom sad that she had denied baking it for him beforehand but who can foresee these things? Otherwise the day was one of fond remembrance and rueful sadness at his absence from the head of the table. I suppose the first holiday is always the hardest. But for a few short weeks we would have been back to see him still alive and enjoying that piece of apple pie he so yearned for.

Enjoy your friends and family; travel safely if you’re going somewhere this holiday, and give thanks for those around you. To you and yours: Happy Thanksgiving!

Progress

2010-11-13T06:21:00.006-07:00

The days passed quickly this week; a blur of business and medical appointments. Marc talked with our supervisors at Southern Cross and they terminated us as of Friday because we couldn’t give them a return date. Thinking that our medical insurance would run through November I have made several appointments and been able to keep them but Marc hadn’t gotten around to any of his save his vision exam. We found out our medical insurance also ended Friday with our termination. We don’t have word yet on whether it will go Cobra, but even if it does we will not be able to keep up with the expense with no income coming in. At least I feel good about the things I did get handled after a lapse of two years of no medical care.

For those of you over age 60 who had childhood chickenpox don’t forget to think about getting the shingles inoculation. My dad suffered from painful shingles for months about ten years ago and it is not something anyone wants to go through. Sometimes this second bout of the chickenpox virus can also cause permanent joint pain. Fortunately, our insurance covered this very expensive shot ($275) as part of my wellness exam.

The death certificate finally arrived and the attorney will start next week on helping to wrap up many of the details that need attending to. We dodged in and out of some light snow days so are really hoping we get all this wrapped up soon so we can leave. RVs and snow just don’t mix!

Mom seems to be getting incrementally better and Marc has attended to many “honey-do’s” around the property. She finally made the right decision to come with us to Yuma this winter. She needs the change of scene and activity level and we won’t be left worrying about her sitting alone grieving for dad nor of her having to manage in the snow and ice. My brother can keep an eye on the property. The warm days of Yuma can't come soon enough.

Progress

2010-11-13T06:21:00.005-07:00

The Detritus of Death

2010-11-07T07:01:00.005-07:00

I wanted to write but I’m not quite sure what to say. The long days merge into one another in an attempt to deal with the issues of death. For the most part, we try and keep Mom on an even keel, knowing the waters of grief are waiting to snatch her under. She’s doing pretty well, considering that Dad was her entire life and reason for living.

I seem to be on delayed-reaction but have not given any introspective thoughts to figure out why. I stay busy being the practical one, handling items of death like I’m moving through my grocery list—sort through and dispose of Dad’s meager possessions—a bag for Goodwill, a bag to be thrown out—check. My son and Marc move the dreaded hospital bed from the living room to the shop after I remove the bedding which she doesn’t want to touch—check. Drive to Goodwill to donate the bag—check. Drive Mom to Veteran’s Services to see what benefits may be available to her—check. Next week, his ashes and death certificate can be picked up, then we will visit the Social Security office and DMV—check. Call the union pension plan to see when her benefits end, will they last the month?—check. A meeting set up with an attorney to discuss the real estate issues—check. Try and squeeze in my mammogram—check.

Try and find our smiles again—check.

The Blog I Never Wanted to Write

2010-11-01T08:50:00.002-07:00

This morning at work I got the call I have been dreading for a long time. My father just died.

Since we're all still in a state of shock, there isn't much I will add excepting that I will be off-line for awhile. I'm not sure we will have internet and I'm not sure how long we will be in Bend helping my mother. We are leaving today as quickly as we can pack and fuel up--it's about 1250 miles and we want to arrive just as quickly as we can.

A Beautiful Fall Drive

2010-10-26T07:48:00.018-07:00

Rested and finished with errands and tasks, Marc and I set off Sunday morning for a jaunt into the mountains above us. We had no specific route although I did want to see much-touted Sylvan Lake and the Needles Highway. We stopped frequently to pull over for pictures and had forgotten that along parts of the narrow, winding highway (Iron Mountain Highway) it was possible to catch glimpses of the four famous presidential faces of Rushmore.

At the Norbeck Overlook we took in vast views leading off to the eastern plains, far above Rapid City. A little later, at a much lower elevation we enter Custer State Park and the possibility of seeing buffalo. We travel for quite some distance with rolling golden hills and oak trees sporting their muted fall color when Marc suddenly swerves to avoid a cow pie in the road. Right around the corner, there are our buffalo!

Upon finding that it will cost us $15 (a ridiculous amount!) to make the Needles Highway drive to Sylvan Lake we stumble upon another lake and find it suitable instead for our picnic. Maybe someday I’ll be able to drive that Needles Highway but not today!

The final portion of our loop drive takes us past the never to be finished in our lifetime Crazy Horse Memorial. Since it too, costs money to enter, we snap photos from a distance. A quick pass through Hill City where Marc wanders taking photos of the 1880 train and depot, and then we head for home after a very nice outing.

Art Alley

2010-10-23T15:22:00.007-07:00

We came across it by happenstance but it has an interesting history as a free-for-all art gallery since the mid-2000's by whoever wants to contribute. It occupies an alley block between 6th and 7th Street in downtown just behind the Alex Johnson Hotel. Real art on canvas is hung here, as well as the latest graffiti attempts by all comers in a ploy by the city to keep the rest of the town clean. Feeling expressive? Go for it!

Old Rig, Old Me; I’ve Lost My Verve

2010-10-17T09:06:00.010-07:00

Like the leaves falling from the trees with each gust of wind around here, I seem to be losing my energy and stamina. It’s just about all tapped out. Is Yuma close in our future yet?

While never terribly enamored with this job, lately I am growing to loathe certain aspects of it. The dog problem is really out of hand at times and having come so close on several occasions to being attacked and/or bitten leads me to the point of paranoia entering fenced yards where I can’t tell what’s around back with the meter. My body has likely hit the wall, as my achy feet and day and night leg cramping not so benignly tell me. I don’t even have much interest in going out into our new environment to explore; a first for me. There’s just no extra energy to do so. When a job takes so much of your effort and energy that there is nothing left for your family, for yourself, for any fun, is it a job to endure?

Thankfully, we will need to head for Yuma at some point in the not-too-distant future for Marc’s major undertaking of replacing and repairing all our trailer axles. His quick week-long fix last year merely prolonged the agony and expense, as we’ve churned through tires to beat the band. We’ve worn the old girl out and she needs some TLC to keep going and serving as the Duske abode. Marc has always joked that we’ll pull this thing until the wheels fall off and we’re just about to that point, proving that at some point when you insist on overloading an RV there is a price to be paid. The next axles will be so stout; they should last for the rest of her lifetime. For yes folks, for us it’s a lifetime commitment with the old girl. We’ve never regretted purchasing one of the best RV’s made at the time this was manufactured, which sports a sturdy steel box frame unlike any of the popular models today. But like many manufacturers, Travel Supreme underpowered the axles from the get-go. And let’s face it: how many RVers actually own their original rigs for thirteen years and put them through the arduous use and climates ours has had to endure? She’s grimy, weather-beaten, losing her decals, and long ago her luster, but she’s still home. And a comfortable one at that.

I did get into downtown Rapid City during the beautiful day yesterday and took a stroll around and through the many fascinating antique malls. Old turquoise jewelry is huge here.

For ten bucks I found an old wrought iron ice cream stool missing the seat, which I will have Marc replace with wood and turn it into a plant stand. I figure it will look striking against my stucco privacy wall in Yuma, which I now can’t wait to return to. South Dakota is turning cold! Mountains can be wondrous, but I’m glad I don’t live in them anymore—cold and I just don’t agree with each other. The desert has her hold on me just as our old rig does.

The Week in Pictures

2010-10-15T15:38:00.007-07:00

I wish I could say that we’re living our lives la vita loca under the rainbow’s end. This job remains way too tough on our bodies, with us sliding into Friday barely able to walk and stay upright we hurt so much. Our maps have contained a lot of main line to walk which usually requires double the walking: chasing it out and then walking back for nothing. And somehow, the bad dogs, locked gates, and cyclone fenced yards just didn’t ring my chimes at all and I ended the week very disgusted with this job.

I did come across some nice territory in the past week or so though and also loved this inventive piece of yard art. I talked with the guy at length at how he had welded it himself and installed the solar lights so it lights up like a Christmas tree every evening. Just what a wine connoisseur needs, eh?

Just a Relaxing Weekend

2010-10-10T08:08:00.010-07:00

As is normal right after we do a big move, we face work each day exhausted before we start. We both missed a little time due to some rain and I had some health issues which cut short my day Friday and caused me to endure a quiet weekend. In actuality, it has felt good to just relax inside our cozy abode as we watch the dark skies, raindrops and wind pummel outside. Can you smell the fresh apple crumble baking in my oven? The one downside is that I didn’t get out to enjoy the fall colors and now they are quickly being driven to the ground.

I am surveying a large industrial/commercial section which has required long walks along the mains.

There is also a transmission line which shows up on my map and although I was able to do a tiny section of it, if required to do the entire thing, it will have to be mown first. I took these pictures along the section I did with some beautiful views.

The advantage of working in a smaller town like Rapid City is that our fuel bills have dropped drastically over our previous assignment as we’re within five miles of home. Marc has encountered a major disadvantage in his downtown assignment however—he has trouble finding free parking into which the Freightliner will fit.

Although it is due to get quite cooler this next week we’re hoping we get done with the rain this weekend so it doesn’t cut short our days. We don’t get paid when it rains. Our RV park has drastically cleared out and we are now one of only about six rigs left here. It’s proven to be as quiet as we thought and we have enjoyed the relaxed pace.

It's Been a Long Time, South Dakota

2010-10-05T03:35:00.010-07:00

Driving through the central section of I-90 in South Dakota is like being on a family road trip from the 1950’s. A vast array of billboards proclaim attractions that would probably have most kids begging and screaming at their folks to “Please, Dad, let’s stop!” It is kitsch on a level not seen in too many other areas or states—states like Oregon that have banned the building of any new billboards and only the ones grandfathered in now serve as eyesores on the scenery. Some get pretty inventive though, like the Firehouse Brewery, right here in Rapid City, which uses old fire trucks to catch your eye. Mile after endless mile of straight road across prairie and tourist trap after trap, a funny thing happens and I find I am actually reading just about every sign for my eye’s diversion for something worthwhile to see.

After dropping from the plateau near Cameron, we crossed the Missouri River the evening before and found another boondocking spot tucked out of the way behind a closed car dealership and saddle shop. It is very windy; something we didn’t really have very much of in Virginia and forgot about on the western plains.

Shortly before Rapid City’s Black Hills come into far view, we get a tantalizing glimpse of the Badlands. We spent a night in the national park there once in our truck camper and I remember our cat Skitter decided to walk up and sniff noses with a shaggy buffalo. We were kept inside the camper for awhile as the huge beasts huffed and snorted and grazed mere feet from us. That would be an area worth going back to.

After parking the rig at WalMart we take time to scout various campgrounds in the Saturn for our new temporary home. It doesn’t take long as many in the area are closing within the next few weeks. We settle into a small mom and pop place with cabins and towering cottonwoods, on a scenic lake right in town. It’s a quiet spot with no frills excepting free and fast WIFI and good cable TV channels but that’s just the way we like them since we’re not here to enjoy campground resort amenities and thus dislike having to pay for them. Rapid City seems bustling and there’s good shopping we note. One edge of town sits atop the hilly plains while the westerly section where we are, sports pines and an array of trees now changing color. It is quite a scenic area and I think we’ll be quite comfortable here on our assignment which starts in just a few hours.