Approaching Thanksgiving

We got moved back to the Anaheim RV park where we stayed in July yesterday. When I was here in July I thought it was a pretty good RV park as city ones go, but after the places we’ve had to stay recently I think this place is now a friggin PALACE! So, we’re happy campers to be back, especially given our spot, which allows us enough room to park both vehicles and a nice stretch of grass and picnic table. In actuality, we take up two spaces and due to our length, which the rates are based upon; this is a new record monthly price of $1333. The city of Anaheim sees fit to charge a whopping 17% room tax folks. Right now there is no one on the only side with a space so there are views out every window for Rocket to where he can watch the activity.

Losing our ability to RV the way we are used to (boondocking) has really taken the wind out of our sails and made the lifestyle very tedious. It amazes me that most RVers would choose to travel and live the lifestyle like this (staying in RV parks), with a sea of RVs eight foot outside of every window. Where is the fun in THIS?

I have determined that November has become a melancholy month for me. I am keenly feeling the inability to spend Thanksgiving with my family in Bend and it is a month of reflection and loss. Reflection as I approach my 63^rd birthday soon and wonder what I am doing with my life just sitting in an enclosed space all the time, and loss on the two year anniversary of my father’s death. It also didn’t help to lose our beloved Tucker this month either.

Marc’s new project will start this coming Sunday night although he may end up doing some fill in type work this week. With Marc working the hours he does it feels as if we have no life. He gets so little time off putting in 60 hour weeks, that he sleeps that time away when it is available. His new problem now is that his feet are really bothering him after spending so many hours straight on them that even if he wanted to do something on a day off, his feet won’t allow it.

 I’ll quit complaining and turn to how much fun we have with Rocket. He is growing bigger, much more mature, although he still surprises us constantly with the silly things he does and places he goes. Nothing within the RV is sacred—if it is within his reach, it

is fair game. 

He’s mamma’s sweet boy every morning though, as he sits quietly on my lap while I am on the computer trying to type. We’ve become very bonded. 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

A Fall Ride

(I had started this blog entry before the death of our cat and didn’t have the heart to finish it until now.) 

With Marc finally able to enjoy a day off this past weekend, I decided to drive up into the San Bernardino Mountains to take a look at Big Bear Lake. Big Bear enjoys quite a reputation in southern California as their only true mountain playground and ski area and I had always pictured it in my mind’s eye much like the terrain and ambiance of Lake Tahoe. We were sorely disappointed. 

Deciding on taking a loop route we left Redlands to Yucaipa and Hwy. 38 which does a long and tortuously winding ascent to over 8000 foot elevation. I was expecting a much more lush forest experience than what we saw, which was primarily oak-strewn high chaparral with a lot of dryness. Fall colors were just starting and I did note that there were several forest service campgrounds and hiking trails which at this late date were being lightly used.

Traffic increased when we got within five miles of Big Bear city and before spotting the lake we stopped at a Von’s to pick up a picnic lunch. Approaching from this direction, the toe end of the lake, it appeared very small for all its notoriety. Pulling over to a small park behind the post office right by the boat slips and docks we had a wider view and still weren’t impressed.

Given that Marc’s feet were really bothering him due to being on them such long hours, we decided not to stop to explore other than finding another small park along the way called Boulder Bay which afforded some picture taking opportunities. It was a beautiful fall day and many families were out enjoying it. Large homes dot the shoreline, scrunched together like a valley subdivision.

From town, the highway 330 quickly drops away to the valley floor about 20 miles away. The basin is usually full of haze or smog so it was no surprise that my photos were greatly compromised. This side of the mountains appeared very rugged despite the amount of traffic on the winding highway. Marc and I both commented that come winter with snow and ice this highway probably becomes a disaster area strewn with wrecks.

No part of this loop is really suitable for RVs, save for possibly a small trailer or pop-up. Grades are steep with switchbacks and there is a ton of traffic waiting to pass slow-moving vehicles. Coming from Big Bear towards the basin it is a 14 mile 6% downgrade around sharp corners. Take heed.

My Golden Boy; A Eulogy

(The following story was originally penned on May 12, 2010 in an intention to pay homage to our best ever cat, Tucker. Somehow it never got posted to the blog and time passed. Tucker has been pretty sick lately and within the past two weeks he really went downhill. When he stopped eating and drinking several days ago, the handwriting was on the wall. Since I couldn’t face it, I asked Marc if he would be the one to take him in to be put down, so at noon today, that’s what happened. The loss hasn’t caught up with me yet so I thought it was definitely time to give Tucker his due. Rest in peace, old friend. You were the best and we’ll miss you always.)

I’m aware that not all people appreciate cats, but accordingly, I don’t like dogs. They yap and bark, they constantly lick their private parts or their feet with an absolute annoyingly loud slurping sound, they require constant attention and adoration (or develop bad habits), they require walking day and night, they always embarrass their owner by sniffing a complete stranger’s private parts, and in some cases they can be downright and viciously dangerous and unpredictable. What dog owner can say he has left his RV and gone off for days and left his dog inside unattended? Although we don’t like to do it, with Tucker and his automatic feeder, his litter box, and his comfy bed where he sleeps up to 20 hours a day anyway, it’s all been possible!

So yes, on the other hand, there is our cat Tucker. He came to us on June 28, 2003 by raiding the leftover crab guts Marc left out in a bucket in Coos Bay right after our beloved cat Skitter had died; obviously feral or sadly neglected. Either way, he was already “fixed” and in sorry shape, so we adopted him and promptly took him to the vet. He had an extremely bad ear infection and was also loaded with fleas. To this day his left ear tilts permanently to the right as you face him, causing me to call him “my cute kitty face”.

Tucker likes to please. Through the years I’ve been able to teach him by hand-clapping not to roam too far from our site, with a “get back here” wherein he does an immediate about-face and high tails it back to camp. He no longer grooms himself at night when he is in bed with us too often; if so, a gentle tap on his head reminds him that’s not permissible when we’re trying to sleep. For you see, Tucker has always maintained he was one of us and would sleep nowhere else. After countless years of trying to wash his shedding hair off bed linen it finally occurred to me to buy him his own bed which he took to like a duck to water.

Tucker is not a lap kitty but occasionally claims us. Mainly me; whereupon he throws a paw up over my breast as if to say “she’s mine”. He has also been known to give Marc support and attention when he needs it.

He gladly joins in on the festivities of the day or explores whatever terrain we happen to be located in at the moment. Sadly, he’s not much of a hunter although one time he brought us a chipmunk. He tries to make friends with one and all.

Tucker has been leashed trained but is much more satisfied sitting in front of any heat source. And don’t even mention crab in his presence—he’s there!

I fear our sweet boy is growing old with us. We really don’t know his age but suspect about eight or nine. I see a gauntness now developing in his hip line and note his reluctance to jump up to or down from higher places. I have had cats my entire life and with his sweet nature and personal interaction, he is one of my very favorites. It will certainly be a sad day when he leaves us for good. We hope it is many years into the future. For now, he absolutely loves our Yuma lot—he does spin-arounds every morning in front of the door to get out and explore his domain and then he settles himself under the rustling palms and watches the world go by and the birds twittering above him. And he really gets into his drop and roll routine here! Such a sweetie he is: this joy, my golden boy.

An Announcement

I'm happy to report that I have finally gotten my act together to offer my jewelry for sale! I have been creating pieces since Spring, finally amassed enough inventory, and then went through the steps necessary to set up a shop on Etsy and arranged for PayPal to be offered to customers.

For those of you who may have interest, my shop address is here: Dusty River Designs1. I hope you see something you like and I appreciate your referrals as well. I figured I might as well create a new blog for the business so I will occasionally be highlighting new pieces on the blog pages here: Dusty River Designs blog.

Life here in Redlands continues on about the same; Marc is due to start his new project this Sunday night. He has been sent hither and yon these past two weeks, including as far away as Newport Beach, a very long  150+ mile round trip commute from here! I sure hope he manages to get a day off this weekend--maybe we can get out somewhere and finally take a look around this area.

Nothing

Not much has been happening on the home front beyond the cycle of Marc working, sleeping and commuting. We moved a couple of weeks ago to a much nicer and cleaner RV park in Redlands which will only be about five minutes from Marc’s next job. Spaces are densely packed but the park is well kept and folks are friendly. In the meantime though, until the Chili’s starts on the 28th, he has been doing fill-in work on other stuff as far away as Orange—a two hour, 45 mile drive in dense LA traffic. With the recent run-up in California fuel prices, his commute costs jumped to around a $150/week—ouch!

Being on the fringe of the greater LA area, Redlands appears to be a fairly clean and maneuverable town with good shopping. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still very crowded here but nothing like Van Nuys. I haven’t really ventured out much however, since Marc rarely gets any time off. Just how much shopping does a person living in an RV need to do? Marc is still doing 70 hour weeks and mostly six to seven days a week. 

So life plods on uneventfully; I try and just suck it up knowing Marc has it much worse than me. Although we are experiencing a cool-down in temperatures finally, it appears as though it will again jump up to mid to high 80’s within the ten day extended forecast. Southern California=endless summer I guess.

My Complete Joy

With his little soulful eyes, his sweet disposition, and his inquisitive nature, Rocket has quickly become the center of much of my attention. Especially given that my days are solitary, with Marc sleeping away in the bedroom after his long nights of graveyard shift. He logged an 80 hour week this first week on the new project; seven straight nights, and will now have to go for thirteen before his first break of a night off so his world has become a simple one of eating, sleeping, battling the commutes, and work. 

I looked around enough of the area coming in and getting out once to grocery shop to know there really is nothing here I care to see so I am saving expensive fuel and staying put in the RV. Everything here is old and decrepit, like there is no civic pride and no cohesiveness to the community save for bars on many of the windows. It is probably the closest thing to a ghetto we have ever had to stay near. I walk the single track of pavement in the RV park up and back enough times every morning to justify calling it a walk and then spend time allowing the kitties outside while it is still cool. Rocket at first was very timid but becomes bolder every day. He feels better sidling up next to big buddy Tucker when there is stranger-danger.

We can already note just how quickly he is growing. There is nothing he hasn’t investigated if he can reach it. He is a momma’s boy, no doubt about it. He plays himself silly and then collapses into sleep in the most incongruous positions at the drop of a hat, like a napping baby. If it’s not in my lap, then that’s when I can get some things done without his interference, so I am taking those precious few hours to get back into my jewelry making.

Marc will need to go to San Bernardino, the next project site, on Friday for a pre-construction meeting and will take that time to peruse the available RV parks. We figure not many could be worse than this one, where we just did get working cable TV yesterday and we struggle daily with spotty off and on again WIFI. To say nothing of course about the daily merry-go-round of vans and small Class C’s which back in two feet from our trailer’s rear making a spot out of our leftover space. Each time I hold my breath and say a prayer that the novices in these rental RVs know enough of what they are doing to not hit and destroy the back end of our rig. And then I wonder when they will pull out so I can once again access all of my back basement storage lockers. Yup—they’re that close, that even our own storage is off limits to us. RIDICULOUS. This is a van as seen from my kitchen window: