Welcome to the Republic of Texas!

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I’ve been in the Republic of Texas for only a few months now and I love it. For roughly ten years in the mid-1800’s, Texas was it’s own country known as the Republic of Texas with four presidential terms and three presidents. That’s your history lesson for the day. You’re welcome.

This is the land of the truck-driving, gun-totting, modern day cowboy. Land of y’alls and yes, ma’ams, said with a sexy southern drawl. Pair that with cowboy boots and a hat and it’s enough to make a gal swoon – even if he is divorced from a nutty ex (more on that below).

According to my friend, a born-and-bred Texan and self-proclaimed history buff, Texas is the only state in the nation allowed to fly their state flag at the same height as the US flag – part of the concession to Texas joining the U.S. (I could not find a viable source to back this up. If you know of one, please cite it in the comments.)

In Texas we don't dial 911 t-shirt.

In Texas we don't call 911.

Texas is still the old Wild West when it comes to the law… people don’t call 911.

I saw bullets laying on But, wait! There’s more…

Willcox, Arizona, resting place of Warren Earp, Rex Allen and Koko the Horse.

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Editorial Note: For those of you following along, this is the last out-of-sequence post on my travels to my current spot on the Texas coast. Not that my previous several posts would indicate, but the trip was a direct route from the southern California desert, through southern Arizona (with stops in Yuma, Dragoon, Tombstone, and Willcox), followed by a speedy “peddle to the metal” drive through New Mexico (didn’t get to see anything) to Texas. After this post I will have finally caught up to my current location! Thanks for hanging in there with my crazy and unintended sequencing.

Evidence of the Wild West is alive and well all over the southwestern states. Tributes to fallen outlaws and admired cowboys abound.

The city of Willcox, Arizona may be small is size (population roughly 4,500) but it is large in western history.

Downtown Willcox, Arizona.

Downtown Willcox, Arizona, high noon.

Warren Earp, youngest of the Earp brothers, was shot and killed on a corner in Willcox, Arizona in 1900. He is buried in the Old Cemetery.

 

The Rex Allen Museum and Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame.

The Rex Allen Museum and Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame.

Actor, singer and songwriter Rex Allen, known as the Arizona Cowboy, was born 40 miles from Willcox, and he died in Tuscon in 1999. His legend lives on in a  museum dedicated to his memory in downtown Willcox. Also known as the Last of the Silver Screen Cowboys, he has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

But, wait! There’s more…

Happy Birthday! Checkers, the RV copilot, turned 18 today.

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

My wonderful feline copilot turned 18 years old today.

I may look pissed, but I just don't like having my picture taken.

I may look pissed, but I just don't like having my picture taken.

I couldn’t have asked for a better companion these past 18 years. I can not adequately express how much she has meant to me, often bringing me out of those dark times when I felt hopeless about life. I owe her more than I can ever repay. Rest assured, she is spoiled and pampered.

While searching for one cat, I found another.

A previous cat of mine, Eggo (so named because she once stole a bite of my strawberry-jam-topped Eggo waffle), had gone missing so I went to the humane shelter every three days to look for her. After about a month or so, I first saw Checkers sitting in one of the cages. She was a five-week old kitten and the runt of the litter. She was so small she could sit in the palm of my hand.

About a week later I adopted her. She was – and still is – so full of energy. She used to race about the living room in a circuit that included running across the length of the vertical back of the couch. Her small size defied gravity.

Catnapped!

Checkers has been catnapped twice in her life. But, wait! There’s more…

Ten Things: Random Observations From the Road

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Long-time readers of this blog may vaguely recall, and new readers might like to know, a while back I started a series called “Ten Things Tuesday” wherein I would post Ten Things lists on Tuesdays (yeah, a complex concept I thought of all by myself). In the first posting Ten Things To Do When Bored At Work, I promised not to be consistent. In that I have succeeded.

For Ten Things Tuesday (on a day that’s probably not Tuesday), I present Ten Random Observations from the Road.

On the road again...

Views like this provide for lots of peaceful time for thinking.

After being a full-time RVer since July of last year, I have learned quite a few things about myself, others, and places. Particularly how different the atmosphere can be in a town compared to the one in northern California in which I spent most of the last 30 years. That said, the following observations are probably of no interest to anyone but myself.

1.  Most every one I meet is really nice, chatty, and helpful. Especially in the smaller towns. And after spending the last three months in Texas, I can assure you “Southern Hospitality” is no myth. It is alive and well in Texas, a state I am quickly coming to love.

2.  I’ve learned I prefer small towns with populations of 30,000 to 100,000 people. They also usually have my favorite stores: Trader Joes, Target, Fry’s Supermarket, Starbucks, Pizza My Heart (or similar good pizza), Walmart, a health food store, and cute shops.

3.  I prefer small, two- or four-lane highways. They never have traffic and they’re usually in great condition. In fact, small towns seem to have little of what this (previous) Californian would consider traffic. But, wait! There’s more…

Put the hooker in the box, and the bird in the closet.

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No, wait. I think Charlie Sheen said ‘Put the hooker in the closet‘.

Ok, then the bird should go in the box. Got it. Good thing, too, since the closet is quiet full of my clothes and skeletons.

A closet full of clothes and skeletons.

There's hardly enough room for the skeletons, let alone hookers.

As many of you may know, I have a penchant for rescuing wounded things. Birds. Mammals. Men. One might assume that while driving around the country I would not have as much opportunity for rescuing wounded beings.

Sadly, no. Like moths to a flame, they seem to find me wherever I am on the planet. 

They may leave for a brief period to temp the fate of being eaten by a hawk or to join the circus. And when I say one left to join the circus, believe it or not I am NOT referring to one of the rescued animals. One now-ex-boyfriend actually left for a brief period with the intention of joining the circus.

!!!

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

But, wait! There’s more…

“The Thing” in Dragoon, Arizona? It’s a dead thing.

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First, Tombstones in Tombstone and now a Dead Thing in Dragoon.

(SPOILER ALERT: If you plan to see “The Thing?”, as advertised on the many signs along Highway 10 in Arizona, don’t read any further. They make an effort to keep The Thing? a secret until you get inside the third and last building in the little gas station/museum. However, photos of it are widely published on the internet, and the employee I spoke with said it was ok to write this article and include my photos. It’s totally worth the $1 entrance fee!)

If you’ve ever driven around southeastern Arizona, you’ve seen one of the 247 signs advertising “The Thing?”.

The mysterious Thing.

Every mile or so on I-10 there’s a sign:

“The Thing? What is it?”

“Mystery of the desert”

“Don’t miss The Thing?”

“You’re only 16 miles from The Thing?”

“See The Thing?”

247 signs. TWO-HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN signs. In an often barren landscape with little else to look at you are their captive audience.

OK, FINE. I’ll see the damn Thing! 

But, wait! There’s more…

Bugzilla, my new roommate.

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Are y’all sick of me telling you how big shit is in Texas? I hope not because just when I think I’ve covered the “biggest” thing Texans have, some other unnaturally-sized creature or event comes along to prove me every bit the naive Californian.

Texans have big balls… and I don’t mean parties.

You may be thinking I found this out the traditional way. Unfortunately, no.

We had another really huge storm in the southcentral area of the Texas coast on Sunday/Monday night. Tornadoes were spotted right over the little town I’m camped in just northeast of Corpus Christi. I was terrified when the tornado warning to “take immediate shelter” was announced. I grabbed my cat and headed to the cinder-block building in the park. A family from Canada was also there taking shelter.

While waiting for the storm to subside, we peeked out the door. It was then I noticed all the other RVers – ones with Texas plates – were still home, in their RVs.

In a park with over two-hundred residents, we were the only ones taking shelter: the four Canadians, the Californian and her cat.

All I can say is storms and mosquitoes aren’t the only big things in Texas. Texans have big balls, too.

But today, I want to tell you about something else “Texas-sized”. My new roommate.

But, wait! There’s more…

Tombstones in Tombstone, Arizona

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No guns, please. The graveyard is full.

He-heh. I need a sign like this for my rig.

On my way to Texas, I stopped in Tombstone, Arizona, home of the infamous OK Corral. No longer the dangerous, wild western town for which it’s so well known, it has become an off-the-beaten-path tourist trap stop.

Downtown Tombstone, Arizona.

Downtown Tombstone, Arizona… seems a little quiet.

One vendor seemed hell-bent on getting me to join the ghost tour. Even the vendors in Mexico were less aggressive – and that’s saying something. But, wait! There’s more…

Holy Flying Vampires, Y’all! The bugs are big in Texas.

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Remember I posted how when they say “Everything is bigger in Texas” they mean the rain? And the hail?

Well, I’ve since found out they are also referring to the bugs. And the Texas-sized mosquitoes. The blood-sucking mosquitoes are huge, and persistent. One was trapped in my car yesterday. At first I thought it was a housefly, that’s how big it was. The size of a housefly.

This is a Florida mosquito statue.

This one is in Florida and smaller than the Texas mosquitoes. (Photo courtesy of "ajmexico" at http://www.flickr.com/photos/ajmexico/6446298545/)

Holy Flying Vampires, y’all! They actually chased me around the property at which I’m work-camping!

When I lived in California, I was rarely bitten by fleas or mosquitoes. Once But, wait! There’s more…

From the Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge to the Bridge to Nowhere, and shaking your dates in between.

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The Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge was the only way to go coast to coast back in the day.

The Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge has spanned the Colorado River in Yuma, Arizona since 1915. If you were heading from coast to coast at that time, the Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge was the only place to cross the river, and it meant going miles out of your way to do so.

Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge in Yuma, Arizona

It lights up at night. You'll have to take my word for it because this picture is as good as it gets on this blog.

And that, my dear Kernutties, is your history lesson for the day. Never say I didn’t teach you anything. Notice I didn’t say “important”. Useless trivia is my specialty.

Shake Your Dates

Since my first trip to Slab City, California this past winter, all I heard was that I had to have a date shake.

“What’s a ‘date shake”‘, I asked. “Is that a shake you share with a date? What if I don’t have a date, can I get one on the side?”

*rimshot*

Yeah, I know. Sometimes I’m the only one laughing.

It comes with ice cream. Ok, good enough!

There are But, wait! There’s more…