The First Night of the Rest of Our Lives

Last night was our first official night of living in our motorhome. I awoke this morning thinking about what the view is outside, then I remembered that we're parked on the side of our house and the view is the same as its been for the last 14 1/2 years. But that's okay with me. In 2 1/2 months the view will start changing regularly. 

I am so excited about our new life on the road, but getting ready for it has been stressful. I have no problem selling our stuff, but its going through all the stuff that is the hardest to do. Every photograph, trinket, collectable, every little thing is a reminder of our lives up until now.  When given the time and opportunity to think about it makes it more difficult to let go. But let go we must. This whole experience has been a lesson in letting go, to put into practice the teachings of Buddha that everything is impermanent, that our attachment to things, and oftentimes people, is the cause of suffering; that our desire, which encompasses anything, and any thing, that we think we want or need is simply the impetus to dissatisfaction if we can't have the object of that desire.

Its been nearly two weeks ago that we had our estate/garage sale. One of the things done was to put out the boxes and boxes of Christmas ornaments and decorations for sale. I went through all our ornaments in advance so I could keep the pieces that were especially important to me. I narrowed it all down to a Rubbermaid box about 12"x16"x8". What I failed to do was label the box 'not for sale.' Rob put it out amongst all the other stuff and then sold my 8x8x8 box of ornaments, found within the bigger box, for $1.00. I was momentarily crushed. Then I let it go. I talked about it to several people, which might have meant that I hadn't really gotten over it, but I had. It was easier to do than I thought possible. The saving grace, however, were the two ornaments that remained in the box which my mother had made. Now those were really important and I still have them. Its enough. 

Rob had to experience some letting go, too. He loves his Hawaiian shirts. He put them out for sale and lots of them did, the rest he gave to charity. What he failed to recall was that he had removed all his favorites out of the motorhome when we got home in early February, so now he has none except one. Just one Hawaiian shirt. He had to let go, too. 

We did really well with the garage sale and made more money than we thought we would. We had stuff sell that we thought wouldn't and the stuff we thought would sell didn't. Overall it was quite successful, but after that weekend I thought once was enough. Next step would be to call in the estate people to make an offer and haul everything away. But, I think I will attempt at least one more garage sale as long as good weather is forecast. I initially wanted all this stuff wrapped up by the end of May, but now I want everything gone by the end of April. I don't want to think about it anymore. I want to look forward, not back, and enjoy each moment as it is happening. Including the moment our newest grandchild is born, when we welcome Oliver into the world. May will be an exciting month!

So will June and July and August and…

Side Effects

There are all kinds of side effects. Like when you're having an allergy attack and you take an allergy pill. Then you sleep for the next four hours when you really needed to get stuff done. Or, you get overzealous and clean the house from top to bottom, corner to corner, then you feel that twinge in your lower back that says "Ok, now you've done it!" Or, you're using your spade in the garden with every intention of improving it, but instead you spade right through a sprinkler pipe and you spend the rest of the afternoon repairing it. Or, how about when you've done a simple kindness for a complete stranger and later find $20 in an old coat pocket. Or, you ruffle the scruff of a neighbor's dog, turn to talk to the neighbor and then get an unexpected wet kiss across your face, nearly knocking you to the ground. Or, you've caved in and bought that ice cream or cookies or pie or cake, then feel guilty for having indulged (that was me last night). 

I am suffering the side effects of two things right now, besides the Oreos I ate last night. One has to do with our decision to RV full time. We have been home for over a month and we've sold exactly one thing: the daybed, trundle and it's accoutrements. We have a houseful of stuff to sell. The side effect? It is overwhelming! It is so overwhelming that I want to crawl in a hole and hide myself. What to keep? What to sell?

Things we were hoping to keep, we will need to sell, like the beautiful mahogany pieces that came from Rob's great-grandmother's house in St. Thomas. I'm afraid the things we need to sell may not fetch a reasonable price. I'm planning on having a huge garage/estate sale next weekend, but the effort and energy it entails is staggering. I've read the many tips on having a successful garage sale, but I am not going to rent tables at a party store, nor am I going to pay the exorbitant fees by advertising in the newspaper. I will advertise the garage sale on craigslist.com, though. Craigslist is how I sold the daybed. Great. But much of what I want to sell people would expect to be shipped. No way. Shipping, in my experience, would eat up too much of the profits. I'm sure I don't qualify for special, discount rates with FedEx or UPS. 

Most of the stuff I want to sell is not junk, but a garage sale is a place where people expect to pay next to nothing for everything. Some of the stuff isn't suitable for consignment stores, but some of it is. Should I put the set of china there? Its beautiful, but old fashioned. How long, on average, would I have to wait for it to sell? Does it matter? Maybe I should just get the garage cleared out enough that we can put everything out there and have experts in estate sales come in and offer us a flat amount for the lot of it. That would make them more money than it would us, but I wouldn't have the feat of figuring it all out, which is making my head hurt. That's how we handled my mother-in-law's estate—well, the stuff in her house that the family didn't keep. I so dislike having to think about it. I dislike more having to do it. I have to keep my eye on the ball, put one foot in front of the other, not let the challenge paralyze me.

That brings me to the other side effect. I'd rather be thinking about and doing something else than dealing with all the stuff, stuff and more stuff that we've collected over the years. I read an article that had huge side effects for me. It inspired me so much that I can't stop thinking about it. It has mushroomed in my head like an atomic bomb. I have a fully formed book in my head. I have to write it. It will be hard. I will spend hours thinking about how to express my thoughts, create a scene, doing research. I will feel unimaginative and wholly inadequate from time to time, but I have to write it. Once we are on the road, Rob will have to deal with me hunkering over my computer for hours or days at a time, doing more than just processing my photographs. A big side effect will be having to balance all the hours in the day. I certainly wouldn't want to miss the sites at each place we visit. 

Now that I've said it, made it public so to speak, I must complete the tasks. I must sell our stuff and stop being a wuss about it. Just let it go so we can get on the road where we never think about all the stuff over which I'm agonizing now. And I must write my book, which I know would make a good, if not great, movie because that's how it plays in my head. 

Like the Nike ads always said: Just Do It. Besides, I don't want to contemplate what would happen if I don't. You know, all the other side effects.

Returning to California

We've been home a week and we have been busy. It is like moving and everything is still in boxes. Every time we need something, we remember that its still in the Beast and out we trudge to collect whatever it was we'd forgotten to bring in. Oftentimes, its only 10 minutes later that we trudge back out again for another thing. Thank goodness the Beast is parked by the side of the house instead of in some RV storage miles away. I've also been planning and making reservations for when we leave home in June to travel full-time.

After leaving Lake Mead, we headed to Newport Beach to spend two nights to visit with Rob's uncle, who is now 89 years old (you'd never know it by looking at him), and as handsome as ever. Court Hawkins is the embodiment of traditional, gentlemanliness from a bygone time, which, sadly, is rarely seen in our society today. He is the patriarch of Rob's mother's side of the family, a title to which Rob is next in line. We had him out to the Beast for lunch and a delightfully long, afternoon conversation. We were pleased, and grateful, that he devoted so much time to us, especially since his sweet, lady-friend, Dickie, couldn't join us because of having been bitten by a flu bug. Rob talked his ear off about our trip and the motorhome and our future plans. I don't think Court hardly got a word in edgewise!

After Newport Beach, we headed to Ventura to spend Super Bowl weekend parked next to Kristie, Matt and Cayman's condo. In an effort to economize, and to lessen the amount of TV exposure for Cayman, Kristie had cable turned off. So we set up our satellite dish in front of the Beast and we all watched the game from inside the motorhome. We opened our camp table on the sidewalk, set up the barbecue and enjoyed game day on the street corner. It was fun, although we weren't too pleased with the outcome of the game. Sigh.

We would have liked to spend another night or two with Kristie, but we just can't do that to her neighbors. Everyone was marvelous about us being parked there, even with the slides open and cones placed to alert drivers. The streets are relatively narrow so we could have easily heard complaints. None came. I'm glad the members of the neighborhood used their common sense and knew this was a temporary arrangement; however, I would not want to take advantage of their good graces.

Rob and I knew our drive home would be a minimum 7 hour day and for that reason we decided to stop at El Capitan State Beach, again. Although it is only an hour and a half north of Ventura, it did much to help break up the distance. It was also a welcome, and peaceful, way to end our trip. I didn't sleep well because of a little too much tequila throughout the Super Bowl (no I did not get drunk), so when we arrived at El Cap and were all set up for the two night stay, I took my reclining camp chair to my favorite spot on the bluff. I promptly fell asleep to the sound of the surf with the late afternoon sun warming my bones. When I awoke and turned my head to gaze at the ocean, I spied the little, black head of a sea lion, bobbing about 150 feet from the beach, and then it was gone. Utter bliss.

Allow me a moment to stand on the soapbox, please. There are three things I noticed coming back into California and, especially, coming back up to the Bay Area: First, you immediately feel the difference in the road quality. Our roads reflect the selfish mismanagement of funds in California. This state would rather give money to the 'poor unfortunates' doing nothing than insist those self-same, able-bodied persons get paid doing jobs building and repairing roads or some other state-paid work. Second, coming back into the Bay Area I found the drivers to be reckless as though each individual thinks they have superior right to the road. This was far more evident in the Bay Area than in southern California. Third was the amount of litter. Litter is everywhere along the freeways and exits—in the Bay Area! Why is this happening? Do the people here have it so ingrained that they think they don't have to be responsible for themselves or their actions? That someone else will clean up their garbage? Do they do it out of laziness? Because they can get away with it? Does it make them feel more powerful? It disgusts me and I do not understand it. I am a native Californian and have always been proud of my state. Not anymore. I feel embarrassed. I feel the people who decided to live in my state (and country for some), need to clean up their attitudes about themselves and their surroundings; and, anyone on public assistance needs to devote a day or two per month to public service for the betterment of the county in which they receive that assistance. Something's got to give. This state, and this area of the state, is too beautiful to be used as a garbage dump. If this state needs money, there's a gold mine in enforcing the litter laws alone.

Now that I've vented, I've stepped off the soapbox. Enjoy the photos. 

Louis soaking up the sun next to Ollie on our last day at Lake Mead.

The sunset reflected on the northeastern sky on our last evening at Lake Mead.

Brandy looking adorable in the warm sun on our last day at Lake Mead.

Court Hawkins

I just noticed that Rob and Uncle Court have the same nose!

A lovely spot on the bay at Newport Beach

Getting ready for the game.

Cayman and Kristie on game day.

Cayman getting cozy.

Handsome Calipso.

Louis checking out the night.

Serendipity

The thought crossed my mind yesterday morning that maybe going into Las Vegas wasn't so important after all because it was going to be cold (45°)—and windy (10-15 mph)—which it was. I reminded myself, however, that this was primarily the reason I arranged to come to Lake Mead as part of our trip. I originally had looked into RV parks within Las Vegas, but, because of my aversion to crowds and street noise, decided to find a more quiet place in the vicinity so that we may venture into Las Vegas proper without being in the middle of it. I wanted to see the hotels with all their grandeur and we were running out of days. Looking at the weather forecasts it was evident that yesterday was the day, although today the temperature was supposed to be higher by a degree or two, the wind was supposed to be worse with gusts up to 30 mph.

We really didn't know which hotel would be the best place to park. We just knew we wanted to be at a hotel with a monorail stop. Being that we know The Flamingo we chose to make that our starting point. It also allowed us to see the completed renovations that they were in the midst of when we stayed there a year ago this past October for our daughter's wedding. We could have done without seeing it being that the renovation was simply to add another restaurant. 

Although there are many amazing hotels, I knew I wanted to see Grand Canal at The Venetian. We bought our day tickets for the monorail and rode one stop north to Harrah's. When we arrived and managed to walk through the casino to Las Vegas Boulevard, our thought was that we could've walked faster, but the trade off was that we were out of the cold and wind. The distance walked through Harrah's did nothing to save my feet and Rob's knee and hip, though.

We finally arrived at The Venetian and wandered inside to find ourselves at the beginning of a long avenue of shops. We craned our necks to study the frescoed ceilings and promptly descended a floor so I could photograph one particularly large piece that could barely fit in the frame even from the lower vantage point. We ascended again and began our walk along the avenue. I kept searching for the beginning of the interior canal, not looking too intently at the shops when Rob said, "Hey, look, a photography gallery." My head swiveled quickly and there, to my utter amazement as I had no clue whatsoever that this place existed, was the gallery of my most favorite photographer, Peter Lik. His landscapes are, to me, the most beautiful and I aspire to produce work that can even remotely compare. We entered. With my mouth agape and after several gasps, a salesman approached us. He was very kind and spent quite a bit of time discussing where certain photos were taken, the type of paper on which they were printed and the printer that was used. Rob and I both thought the photographs were on transparencies and back lit but, no, that wasn't the case. It had to do with the paper and printer, of which we hastily made a note for future reference. I pointed to the photograph that had originally caught my notice some time back and the salesman said, no, that that wasn't the one as it had only come out a few months ago. He brought over a book and showed me the print of the one he was sure I meant. It was, but both were of the same tree. I'm sure they were taken the same day. I will go there, come hell or high water, and try to replicate the shot as part of my photography education. The Japanese Garden in Portland, Oregon. Its now on the bucket list.

On we went to follow the canal, have some lunch, and absorb the sights and ambiance of the place. The rest was somewhat anticlimactic after Peter Lik's gallery. We wandered into The Palazzo by happenstance as it is connected to The Venetian. We found they had decorated for the Chinese New Year. It was lovely. By then we were ready to move on, however, and after making a wrong turn, finally made our way out to where we first entered. Rob needed to sit to rest his hip and knee but there were no chairs or benches. Outside, and mostly out of the wind, were some steps. Some folks had the same thought, apparently, and were sitting there. Rob said something about this being the place for old guys to rest and the fellow sitting there heartily agreed. We sat next to them and began to chat. It turns out that these folks are from Gridley, California. My grandmother grew up in Gridley. My great grandfather and grandmother Panecaldo's house (forgive me if I've misspelled), is part of the historic register. They recognized the name and as I was trying to remember the street on which the house is located, one of the women said 'Hazel." Yes, that is it! 360 Hazel Street. Why I remember the street number I don't know, but they also knew the name of the present owner, whom Rob and I met several years ago after stopping and knocking on the door, as well as the unique turn-of-the-century fountain still in the front yard.

If I had caved to my initial whim to cancel our day trip into Las Vegas, or had left it to another day, this meeting would never had taken place. I may have still seen the Peter Lik Gallery, but neither may I have had the pleasure of that particular salesman's generosity of time and information, nor the chance meeting of strangers from a place in my family's history that is near and dear to my heart. Nothing is ever coincidental. If only my dad were still alive to tell of this serendipitous occasion. 

The impressive frescoed ceiling.

Outside the Peter Lik Gallery.

Rob getting fresh with a living statue.

On the Grand Canal.

The look of Venice.

Celebrating the Chinese New Year at The Palazzo

Lake Mead

We have one of the best sites here at Lake Mead RV Village. The view through our windshield is of mountains and lake. No obstructions. We've seen quail, grackles, sparrows, hummingbirds, jack rabbits, and we've heard coyotes. We've had warm enough nights to be outside to enjoy a few campfires and that's when we'd hear coyotes far in the distance; however, just yesterday afternoon we heard them very close by indeed. Rob was up on the ladder getting a puddle of rainwater off the slide's awning and could see the coyotes about 100 yards away. We wondered if they may have been celebrating the catch of a jack rabbit or some other unfortunate critter. Their yip yip yipping and howling was eerie but oddly exciting. I wish I could've seen them from my lower proximity, although it wasn't from a lack of trying. I think my neck stretched a good inch or two from my effort!

We visited the Hoover Dam the other day. We paid $7.00 to park and headed over to the Visitor's Center. We were dismayed to find that they wanted an additional $8.00 to enter, and you had to go through screening identical to TSA airport screening—right down to having to remove your shoes. I looked at that and decided it wasn't worth the $8.00 to have to pull my sneakers off. They also wanted $30 per person for an internal tour of the dam. It just seemed too pricey to me, and the nearby casino is charging only $29 per person for a helicopter ride over the entire area, which is probably way more fun. So, off we went to walk along the sidewalk over the dam. That's really what I came to see anyway. It is an impressive structure and beautiful with all of its art deco finishes.

Lake Mead had a bit of rain over the last few days. Because of it, we discovered that we hadn't really solved a leak problem in our bedroom slide that became apparent while we were at Dockweiler in Los Angeles; and, because of it, we now really do have the problem solved. This is especially good news for me as the leak was over my side of the bed! Friday evening we were enjoying a roaring campfire with our neighbors, Ken and Gail, who are from just north of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, when at about 9:30 we had to say goodnight and go inside because the raindrops were getting larger and more frequent. I'm just glad all the wood had burned down and what was left was mostly glowing coals, which always give them the appearance of inhaling and exhaling as though sentient. It rained furiously that night (the bedroom remained dry). In the morning, you could barely see the lake through the low clouds and mist.

The view has been impressive. Being that it is basically high desert with rather barren, jagged mountains and low-lying brush, I thought the sun would accentuate the harshness of the land with severe contrast. Instead, the diversity of color with it's reds, greys and tans in concert with the blue of the sky and the lake invite a muted, pastel softness, especially in early morning and late afternoon.

Rob's sister-in-law, Chris, had given us a travel hummingbird feeder as a motorhome-warming gift and this location gave us the opportunity to use it. I think it was about an hour after hanging it that a healthy, male Anna's hummingbird began to guard it and make it his own. Yesterday, however, we were gifted with the arrival of a Costa's hummingbird. The fellow was fearless. At one moment, Rob was less than a foot away from him and he sipped nectar in an entirely nonchalant fashion. That kind of thing gets us ridiculously excited! It wasn't long, though, when the Anna's came home from wherever he'd been and chased the Costa's off. My camera was working at high speed and I captured a few clear shots of these swift, little birds.

Tomorrow, the plan is to go into Las Vegas for a look-see at some of the visual treats those hotels have to offer.

Toasting to our first afternoon at Lake Mead

A close up of Art Deco framing around an elevator door

Even the dam wall was built with aesthetics in mind.

I was so enamored with the statue's beauty that I failed to find out its meaning.

I think people made wishes with their coins at the feet of this towering statue, much like with a wishing well.

If the wind comes up, hold on to your hat or you'll never get it back!

In honor of the lives lost in the construction of the dam.

  

A desert rose, perhaps?

A photo of Rob. Not unusual.

A photo of me. Unusual.

I photographed all 12 signs.

Pastel Lake Mead

After raining all night.

Rob and our little Costa's Hummingbird.

Our Anna's Hummingbird.

A sweet, little female Anna's Hummingbird.

Anna's Hummingbird.

Costa's Hummingbird.

A Good Time at Lake Havasu

One of the most exciting things that happened to us since leaving Quartzsite happened the morning we were leaving Cattail Cove State Park. First, though, let me say that Cattail Cove, which is located on Lake Havasu about 15 miles south of Lake Havasu City, was singularly the nicest state park to which I've been thus far. The sites were spacious and staggered in such a way that you didn't feel you were walking into your neighbor's space just by stepping out your door. They had electric and water, but no sewer hook-ups; however, they do have a dump station conveniently situated as you enter or exit the grounds. The restrooms were very clean, the showers generously sized and with plenty of hot water. Cattail Cove also has wonderful walking trails that overlook the lake and a boat launch, which is a must-have for any campground along the lake.

The second night we were in Quartzsite, Rob and I went to a mexican restaurant. When I slipped into the booth I noticed a newspaper on the seat, which turned out to be the local classifieds. I thought it would be good to bring it back to the Beast with us to use as fire starter for our charcoal chimney. That evening I decided to take a look at what people around Quartzsite were trying to sell and I found an ad for the 3rd Annual Havasu Balloon Festival, which was due to begin the day after we intended to leave Cattail Cove and Lake Havasu. The festival coordinators set up RV parking/camping on a lot at an adjacent marina that is normally used for summer boaters to park their boat trailers. We chose to cut short our stay at the next destination, Lake Mead, by a few days and reserved a space at the festival. We are so glad we did, too!

The morning we left Cattail Cove, I found I had an email from folks who posted a comment on one of my blogs the night before. It explained that they had been at Cattail and, as they were leaving, took a photo of my blog address, which is on the side of the Beast. They said they were going on to the balloon festival. I responded and let them know that we, too, were leaving just that morning to go to the festival. I suggested that they make contact since they knew how to identify our motorhome. That night at about 9:00pm, there was a knock on our door. Rob answered, was handed a note and the fellow said they were parked right behind us just across the 'roadway'. We went and knocked on their door the next morning, met Judith and David. We intended to stay just a few minutes but it turned into a couple of hours. In that time we found we have some preternatural things in common. To our delight, they agreed to join us that evening for a campfire. We thoroughly enjoyed their company, their sense of humor and outlook on life, and we look forward to seeing them again in the future.

Also there were our friends from the sand dunes. Mark and Jeannine live in Lake Havasu City and drove their motorhome down to the festival, parked next to us and we shared as much time as we could with them. They are raising their granddaughter, who is 14 months old, and as any parent knows, the kid's schedule tends to rule. With them was a friend, Eric, who came down from Washington to look for a house to buy. Eric makes his living as an Alaskan fisherman. It was interesting to hear him talk about that kind of life. And around the campfire, we learned that both Mark and David also had something in common: They both hailed from Washington and both had worked for Boeing—at the same time! But, David spent 34 years with Boeing, and Mark about 15, if I remember correctly. We all experienced a few woo-woo moments over those few days.

The festival was set up at the golf course, so there was an abundance of space for the multitude of food vendors as well as the typical clothes, jewelry, art and souvenir vendors. In the center was the balloon field, of which the vendors and other activities surrounded. They had shows where you could watch dogs display their prowess at frisbee catching, a radio-controlled aircraft area, a carnival area with a ferris wheel and an assortment of other rides, as well as boat and travel trailer brokers and a few old cars to view. 

Of course, the most fun was seeing all the grand and colorful balloons. We suffered with some wind during the festival, so the balloons flew mostly in the early morning. Most flew over the RV area and over the channel that flows under the London Bridge and they often landed wherever they could. One morning, Rob helped one land right in our roadway in the RV area. How fun is that? In the evening with weather permitting, they had what they called 'Night Glow,' where the balloonists filled their balloons so they were illuminated against the night sky. It was quite a sight.

In our travels, Rob and I want to note the cities or towns that interest us as possible places to settle once we are finished with RVing. Lake Havasu City has made it on the list so far.

A view of the beach and boat ramp at Cattail Cove State Park.

Our motorhome is center right with the silver CR-V parked in front.

Feeding the locals at Cattail Cove.

A view of Lake Havasu from the hiking trail. That's California over on the other side.

Rob pretending to be Edith Ann in Mark's oversized camp chair.

Here come the balloons.

A look inside.

Deflating the balloon.

Rob after helping land the balloon.

Volunteers helping to bag the balloon.  

A close up of the beautiful stitching on the bottom of the balloon basket.

Aerial entertainment. 

Night Glow.

Filling the balloon.

An inside look at Night Glow.

The view toward the RV park from the Ferris Wheel.

This balloon proved to be very photogenic.

Above the London Bridge

Just a bridge reflection.

An American balloon and my favorite photo.

Getting its feet wet.

Through our windshield.

The same balloon that Rob helped land.

The goldfish was my favorite balloon.

Judith and David