The Adventures, Travels & Tribulations of a Bonkers Blond Blogger. Traveling in an RV, with a cat. (Yes, I live on a chassis. It's possible I'm not well.)
Everyone has been asking, “How is the cat doing? Does she like the RV?”
It has belatedly occurred to me I should probably include Checkers, my RV co-pilot, in more of my posts.
To answer your question, she likes the RV just fine. As long as it’s not moving. When it’s stationary, she spends much of the day sleeping in the puddle of sunshine streaming through the windows on to the large dash.
A closeup of my co-pilot sleeping on the dash, what she does when she's not reading maps. Which is always.
Arizona is probably the coolest state when it comes to unique and odd attractions. I used to think I’d have to go to Egypt or Mexico to see a pyramid, but no. Arizona has a pyramid in Quartzsite.
In 1856 the US Army decided it would be a good idea to bring camels over from the Middle East.
Our government 150 years ago? Not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, so how well do you think this worked?
To their way of thinking, the camels would better make the hot, dry trip across the desert than the horses. Ok, that almost makes sense…
But when they imported the 70 animals, they neglected to consider camels are not horses and are not trained like horses.
In case you don’t know, camels are not sweet like horses.
And the US government is still none-too-bright 150 years later, but you know that.
However, in a rare moment of lucidity, they decided to bring over from the Middle East several experienced camel drivers. One of those drivers was named Hadji Ali.
Since most Americans couldn’t pronounce the name, they just called him ‘Hi Jolly’ – the phonetic spelling of the pronunciation.
That was the title of his post to the singles group list of 700 people!
Holy Shatner! Considering it’s been a while since anyone could claim that statement, I wasn’t sure what to think.
*blink*
His message to the list continued…
Ok, not like THAT. (Pity)
I am sitting in the airport in Albequerque, waiting to fly to South Dakota so I can “move” there. I came across the email with a blog link and have had a fabulous time reading old posts. She educated me on boondocking, took me to a brothel, gave me dating advice and explained why she is still single, although I honestly still don’t understand the last part. (By the way, I was married once. We had his and hers scissors. It helped a lot but not enough).
Anyway, if you haven’t followed her blog, you should. She is quite refreshing to read.
For the record, Kernut, even though I have used both fabulous and refreshing in this email, I swear I am not gay. I hope to meet you one day, although I am sure you will still choose singledom! And I agree, the 3 date rule is utterly stupid. Guys who believe it should be relegated to being brothel regulars.
(named withheld, reprinted with permission)
And that is the nicest review I’ve ever received.
Ok, it might be the only review other than what my dear and wonderful friends and followers write on Facebook.
Promoting my website with a kind review is awesome. Yes, I can be bought.
I didn’t know him at all before this, but now I’d like to meet him.
And that, folks, is Lesson One in How To Ask A Gal Out.
Mostly, I get wonderful, sweet and praising emails from you folks. I save them all.
Sometimes the BS I get in my inbox requires a special rant. This is one of those times.
Let's Play Carpenter... or not.
As the Match.com Dating Chronicles and Dating Exiled Royalty attest, my love life has been nothing if not interesting. Dating still seems to me one of the strangest activities. It’s like a prolonged interview, and you don’t really know if there’s even a job for you.
Needless to say, my experiences, especially those with Match.com, have left me leery of dating in general. Most especially of internet dating in particular.
While I do get asked out fairly regularly, it takes a special person and a special request to get a “yes” out of me. In the last two weeks I’ve received several requests over the internet for a date, or a general indication of interest. A couple are worthy of a “Yes”, but we’ll discuss those in the next post.
Would-be suitors take note: Included herein are the don’ts of asking for a date. There are ways to ask a lady out to get a “yes”, and ways to be assured you’re turned down. If you want a quick hookup, just go to the bar and don’t waste her (read: my) time.
Like this article recommends, calling someone over the phone is much better than asking for a date over the internet or, Heaven forbid, via text. If I don’t know you, emailing is appropriate while we get to know each other. However, if I’ve given you my number, a phone call is much better. Someday you will have to pick up that phone if you want to date me.
Everyone told me “There’s a naked man in Quartzsite, Arizona. You’ve got to go there.”
Well, duh! Of course I do.
My friends, and folks I meet on my travels, give me some of the best tips. I love you people!
They were right, as usual; he was naked except for a hat, a necklace, and a small crocheted “sock” over his privates. (‘small’ is not a comment on the size of anything other than the sock)
I think there is a little satin bow on it, but I couldn’t look that closely without being accused of staring.
No, NO. On the sock.
Sheesh, I really have conditioned you all to go to the dark side first, haven’t I?
Announcer’s voice: While we await the return of the Sacred Laptop with the Sacred Photos of naked men and Sacred Videos from Kernut’s trip, she’ll share a few tips on boondocking. Regular posts with photos will resume shortly. No posts about naked men will be missed. Ever.
Ten Lessons in Boondocking, or Ten Things I Learned Camping in Slab City
What is this? A “Ten Things Tuesday” post?
Yeah, yeah. I know. I haven’t done one of these in a while.
It’s probably not even Tuesday.
Whatever.
Boondocking: To stay in a recreational vehicle in a remote, often rural, location, without connections to water, power, or sewer services.
This Glamper (Glamper: a person, often female, who likes “glamorous camping”) learned a few things over the three weeks she spent boondocking at The Slabs, aka Slab City. (The place where the guy died when I was there.)
Mainly, that I like electrical power.
*sigh*
Lesson One:Power. Power is important. Don’t play that DVD when the clouds are coming in at night or you’ll drain your house batteries before your solar panel (as in singular, uno, one) is able to recharge them. Waiting for the sun to recharge your batteries takes a lot longer than you think. This means no power all morning, too.
It sucks to be totally out of power on a cold night and morning. Mittens and a beanie are my new best friends. Yeah, I look hot in the morning.
Or “The time my laptop died, and the windows let in the rain.”
Believe it or not, these things are not related.
Don’t worry, the post about the naked guy in Quartzsite is still coming, but there’s been a slight delay…
The Sacred Laptop, holder of all photos, articles, and videos, has decided to take a vacation… just when I have a deadline for a Yahoo! News article. All 200 photos of Slab City, the town on which the article is based, are on said dead laptop, along with the aforementioned, soon-to-be-due article.
I’ve rewritten the article from (what’s left of my) memory and notes. If worse comes to worst, I do have ONE back up photo. Just one photo for the article. I certainly would have preferred choosing several from the 200 photos, but at least I’ve got a Plan B.
Meanwhile, all is not lost. As a 30-year resident of Silicon Valley, some things you just learn by osmosis… like how to rescue your hard drive. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, and some memories are hard to retrieve. Like what I had for breakfast this morning, never mind the basic programming I learned 20+ years ago. (And how do you get to the DOS prompt in Windows Vista??? Gees, it used to be so easy.)
The Yahoo! News article is due tomorrow (Tuesday). Yeah, no pressure.
The song may say otherwise, but I assure you London Bridge is not falling down. I stood on it.
If it can hold me up, I’m sure it’s fine.
But back in the early 1960′s the bridge was falling down, unable to hold the increase in traffic over the previous 130 years.
The City of London decided to put the 130-year-old, busted-up bridge up for auction. The founder of Lake Havasu, Arizona, Robert P. McCulloch, won the bid with a cool $2,460,000 in 1968. He then spent another $7 million to bring the London Bridge to Lake Havasu – brick by brick. It took three years, and it was then reassembled over Lake Havasu.
Announcer’s voice: “We interrupt our regularly scheduled post on Lake Havasu to bring you a more pressing issue. The post on Lake Havasu will air shortly. No posts will be missed.”
Slab City, California. An oasis in the desert.
You won’t find Slab City, California on a Google map. A place in the middle of the southern California desert, it is not recognized by the government as a city or town. There are no sidewalks, no electrical power lines, and there’s no running water. From November to April approximately 3,000 snowbirding RVers arrive to camp out the winter. There are an estimated 100 year-round residents.
It’s a land with no rules where the residents rely on a code of honor. Not everyone is honorable.
For all it lacks in amenities, Slab City, aka “The Slabs”, has quite a bit to offer: two libraries, two night clubs, two churches, several kitchens providing free meals, and five social clubs. There’s an 18-hole golf course, although the back nine are a bit rough. There’s a hot springs pool and a “shower”. The shower is the drainage-ditch runoff that comes out of the hot springs.
I’ve been golfing everyday on the grassless sand and gravel course. My golf buddies and I are most appreciative to Bob and Nancy Unden, a couple from San Diego who built the wonderful 18-holed oasis in the desert.
But from now on I’ll stay far away from the hot springs.
The infamous Area 51 is in Arizona, a state where many people claim to have seen UFOs.
I’ve met some of them. The people, not the UFOs.
One told me there is a local support group for alien abductees.
Huh? (I looked, but I could not find a link to the meetings.)
To capitalize on the alien folklore by simultaneously combining themes from Area 51 and nearby Route 66, some enterprising folks came up with Area 66.
It’s in a town called Yucca. Yes, it is.
A "UFO" at Area 66. It's just landing, and in a minute the green VW Bug will be flattened.
The woman running the small convenience store at Area 66 has seen UFO-type lights. She seems completely sane. Probably because she considers they were most likely aircraft from the nearby military facility.
However, the guy who insisted on building the above flying saucer for Area 66 claims to have been abducted by aliens.
Don’t Follow Me, I’m Lost.