Travels with The Rayman

We have been ensconced in our RV at Little Bear RV Park for a week now and it has been amazing.  When I convey to my friends and acquaintances and family where I am going or where I am, they always say, “Where?”.  It goes without fail.  This place is a very well-kept secret for most so I must implore you not to share the location with anyone!!  We’re at Blarisden, CA in Mohawk Valley, CA.  The RV park is located down the road from what looks to be a regional fire headquarters.  About a mile away is the bakery (key learning).  I can report that their blackberry pies this season are wonderful and being enjoyed.

The Upper Feather River

The park is a stone’s throw away from the Upper Feather River tributary and I can report that unlike past years, there is a great deal of water in the river this year.  Rushing and gushing, swishing, and splashing.  A sight to behold and appreciate.  The park is also a stone’s throw from Highway 70, a two-lane artery that connects 395 to Quincy, CA, the county seat for Plumas.  If my memory serves me correctly, Plumas translates to “feather”.  Hence the Feather River.  Which came first?  I have not a clue.  Probably the Indians or Mexicans that proceeded the Europeans, gave the river it’s name.  Although, the Europeans may have named if after all when you consider other California river names in the vicinity are name Rogue, Russian (is there a back channel involved?), Sacramento.

But I digress.

Also a stone’s throw away from Little Bear are the railroad tracks.  Active railroad tracks.  I don’t know if one can set their watches by the trains (I highly suspect that to not be the case), but you can always count on a train or two coming through in the dead of night.  The other night, I awoke and could not go back to sleep.  After an hour or more I heard the plaintive cry of the train whistle.   So, I decided to try to compose a poem about that sound.  Well, that proved to be harder than it sounds, and sleep came.  From a distance, the sound is haunting for lack of a better term.  As the train moves toward us, the intensity increases and it does not sound as haunting anymore.  It’s more of a huge, long blast of a sound.  Hard to sleep through.  Hard to ignore.  Not hard to hear.  But I suppose that’s the point…warn anyone silly enough to be approaching the tracks in the dead of night that it (the train) is a coming.   And then the mind moves to the conductor.  Is he standing in the window of that train, pulling on a rope to engage the noise?  Is that what they do?  If so, I’m glad not to be a conductor.  They must all be deaf.  At least my lack of hearing can be attributed to listening to Janis Joplin and County Joe and the Fish.

http://www.FishTalesGuideService.net

So…speaking of fish.  Rayman and I want to go fishing.  However, we are older than dirt and require and adult supervision for fishing.  I just explained that in an email that I sent to a guide called Mac.  Got his card from the Ace Hardware in Truckee (what in the world were we doing in Truckee?).  I also explained to him that we lacked fishing poles, licenses, bait, or switches (ha, just kidding about the switches).  All the rest is true.  Along with this important information for Mac, I imparted the fact that we were total novices and we ran across a guy at Little Bear (he was from Truckee/Montana) and he told us about Weber Lake or maybe it’s Webber Lake.  It’s has been privately held for 50 and is opening up this season to the public.  The fish in it must weight about 100 pounds, I’m guessing.  In the best way I could, I asked Mac if he could help us on a sunny, warm day.  Then I hit send.  P.S.  Mac’s email got returned as undeliverable but we found Ed.  I warned him.

We had gone to Truckee to look at the Truckee River.  Here it is.  Boy, oh, boy.  It speaks for itself.

Yikes.  It wouldn’t load onto the website.  Bummer.  So I put it on YouTube (think hours) and it took forever and the video is choppy because I didn’t know what I was doing.  I will try to improve tomorrow when it is to be a high of 49 here and too cold to do much other than walk the dog and work on my blogs.

We also had to get some Starbucks coffee pods.  And also we had to spend $80 stocking up on provisions at Safeway.  Signed up for a Safeway card and saved $20.  Not bad.  Could pay for the gas.  Oh, the gas.  There’s another story to tell about gas.  As we were leaving Truckee, it was discovered that we were on empty.  I passed a station and they wanted $3.59.  “Ghastly”, I muttered and kept on going.  Only, here’s the thing.  Truckee may have a river, but it does not have a plethora of gas stations.  And surprise, surprise.  The price is the same at each station.  Harruph.   Drats.  Plus I was breaking my rule to never buy gas on weekends.  I think the prices get jacked up, don’t you?  Oh, well.  Nothing to do but pull in and gas up.  They got us.

While we’ve been here, we have played golf twice.  When we play, we usually compete by playing match play against each other.  Quite fun because it gives one the perfect excuse to try to rattle the other.  Jelly beans are everywhere in match play between the two of us.  Just saying.  So, we approach the 17th hole at Graeagle and we are tied.  Rayman hits the shot of the day.  I drive it into the sand on the right.  His second shot lands left of the green pin high.  My second shot out of the sand was amazingly good.  But I was still out about 40 yards.  My chip onto the green was not a good one.  The green broke right and my ball chased the contours of the green.  I found myself about 30 feet away in three.  Rayman was in high rough.  His ball flew out of the rough, and hit the flagstick.  It dropped to about 2 feet from the hole.  He parred the hole.  It was my turn.  I putted the ball with all the concentration I could muster, and made that putt!!!  That’s was the highlight of our golf so far.  Very fun.

Today, we drove up to Sardine Lake.  On the north side of the mountain going up, snow was still on the ground and the lakes at the higher elevations were still frozen.  We dropped down to Sardine and it was fabulous.  Take a look.

Rayman not on level.

Upper Sardine Lake

And we hiked with Beau to the Upper Sardine Lake.  Here’s a couple of pictures from there.  For all the years we have been coming here, we have never seen snow on the peaks.  Here’s a picture from last year so you can see what I mean.

Sardine Lake with the Coverts and Donnollys 2016

At the top of the trail, we sat on the stone wall that provides a dam for the water.  And we ate dates and jerky.  And we drank water.  And we stared at the scenery marveling at how insignificant we are.  And how blessed we are to be able to see the sight.  Then we picked up and hiked back down the hill to the car.   The hike improved our moods and our outlooks.  It was special.

Finally, our pizza paraphanella arrived today.    We are now armed and dangerous.  With pizza peel in hand thanks to UPS, or FedEx…our pizza making caper is scheduled for tomorrow.  What could go wrong?  I have no earthly idea.  However, I will take pictures and report back.  Something weird/funny is bound to happen.  It always does.

For those of you that know, I apologize to the redundancy.  This year has been full of work, stress, shock, dismay…as well as fun and frivolity.  And so, our summer sojourn, has been much anticipated.

Leaving as we did yesterday (last Friday now) , required a huge push to get all things done.  Uncle Ralph’s house has been all consuming and Thursday, we met with the appraiser, the home inspector, the realtor, and the contractor.  The house is ready to list for sale.  Yippee.  Next week after the appraisal comes in.  In order to get to this…oh, the heck with it.  It was very stressful and very labor intensive.   Bottomline.    It’s  almost over.

Then there was the renting of our house.  We decided to try to rent our house through a property management outfit.  And it is rented each month, June, July, August.  To three different couples.  Yippee.  However, in order to be the good “landlord”, every cupboard needed review and a scrubbing.  Every drawer.  The garage.

Our golf cart.

Perfect segue.  The garage.  We decided to sell our golf cart which lives in our garage.  We don’t use it enough.  So I listed it on Craigslist at three different price points, starting at $1500.  Ending at $800.  A fellow named Ryan, came by, looked at it, liked it and peeled off $800 in cash on the spot.  He called once and said he would pick it up after Mother’s Day.  And we haven’t heard from him since.  Who does that?  So, it’s still in the garage.  Will he ever return?  I don’t know.  But I have emailed Craigslist 3 times to ask them to help me locate him because we have no number for him and don’t know his last name.  Really.  Craigslist has not responded.  So, we had no other choice but to leave town with the cart still hogging room in our garage.

We also decided to order two new interior doors for our house.  Both doors lead to bedrooms.  When we left, they were hanging where they should be hanging but they were not yet painted (only primed).  Our contractor that worked on UR’s house is doing this work.  Hopefully they will be finished by the time the first couple arrives.  We’re at Lake Topaz in NV.  I don’t know.  I can only hope.  The reason we did this when we did was that both doors open to our long, dark, hall.  And these doors have three panes of glass (you can’t see thru the glass).  Our thinking is that they would allow light in the hall when closed.  Especially the one in the middle room which is a den, which we are locking for the duration of our trip because we stored stuff in that room that we thought should not be left out.  So, that door will be closed but it will let light into the hall.

Then we had Bob, our neighbor up to teach us how to cook a pizza without burning it to as crisp in our wood chip heated portable pizza oven.  He had worked for Uno Pizza and knew what to do.  So, he came up.  Rayman lit the oven, Bob made the pizza and it came out okay.  Just a bit burnt on one side.  Then he made the second pizza.  That one acted up.  It seemed glued to the surface of the pan it made it on.  And when he tried to “jerk” it free so that it would transfer to the pizza stone, well, it did not cooperate.  The pizza came out of the oven looking like a tomato football, and undercooked throughout.  That one went into the garbage.  So, we ate the one pizza and Bob walked home after our respite.  When he left, I looked at the Rayman and said, “Let’s leave this pizza oven at home with Bob over the summer…and maybe he can figure out how it is suppose to work perfectly.”  Rayman expalined, “Great idea.”  So, Bob now has our pizza oven as I sit here blogging at Lake Topaz, Nevada.

Of course, I couldn’t give up the notion of not having a portable pizza oven.  So, I went on Amazon and bought a new portable pizza oven that is heated with propane canisters.  Our friend, Al DeVico…Italian as they come…has one and loves it.  It is now being sent to Little Bear RV Park in Blairsden, CA.  That where we will be tomorrow.  And for a month.  I’m bound and determined.  Don’t ask me why.  I do not have a sufficient answer to the question.   Just because.

Assemblying the PizzaPronto portable pizza oven with doggie advice.

We arrived here about 4:30 after a fabulous drive up to this location on highway 395.  My, oh, my.  The Eastern Sierras are awesome.  The weather was wonderful.  The views were never ending.  We ate on paper plates (a first as I always insist on china).  We bought these paper plates for “one night stands” so to speak.  We are camping here tonight and leave in the morning.

Eastern Sierras in all their glory.

Mono Lake looking south.

So fun to see raging water of Walker River.

Lake Topaz from our RV park.

Yesterday when we extricated ourselves from our abode in Morro Bay, we drove to Ridgecrest to stay and visit with our dear friend,, Nancy.   She had us for dinner along with her good friends the Shibleys, who are going to rent our house for one of those months while we’re gone.  But let me back up.  In order to leave at a reasonable time, we pre-loaded the Dog House, except for the refrigerated and frozen items.  So, we got up in the morning and there was nothing to eat.  On the way to Ridgecrest, we had some pita crackers, a

few raisins, a banana and some peanut M&Ms.  No coffee.  Just water.  OMG.  We were famished when we arrived in Ridgecrest.  We had a great dinner.  And she had leftover potato salad, cole slaw, and barbecued pork ribs.  And let’s not forget the pineapple bundt upside down cake…a rendition on that theme.  Yummy.

This a.m. she offered us leftovers.  Of course, we accepted.  And that’s what we just finished eating for dinner tonight.  Thank you, dear Nancy!!!!!

May 27 in the swimming pool with my muse, Margaret, she told me that she observed jack rabbits playing the day before as she was headed home.  So, when I left the pool, I too noticed the jack rabbits in the same spot doing the same thing.  Very special.  Read more about jack rabbits by clicking the link below.

http://www.desertusa.com/animals/jack-rabbit.html

Also in the pool yesterday, I relayed the following story to my golfing friend, Cathy.  Rayman and I decided to sell our golf cart for many reasons.  I ran an ad in Craigslist and a man called, came over, gave us $800 cash and said he would be back to pick it up.  That was a week and a half ago.  We still have the golf cart, the $800 and a giant case of curiosity.  Who does that?  He lives in Los Osos is all we know.  Oh, and he plays at Sea Pines.  Well, Cathy happens to work at Sea Pines.  His name is Ryan.  Cathy said she would comb through their database and see what she could see.  In the meantime, Rayman didn’t think the lights on the cart were very bright so in his effort to remedy the situation, he broke one of the light’s headlamp glass cover.  That’s when he discovered that the lights worked.  Oh, well.

Also, yesterday, we drove down to Santa Barbara to lunch with Uncle Ralph’s old, dear friend, David.  His lady friend, Gillian, drove him to the Santa Barbara Club.  The Santa Barbara Club is a social club which owns a stately building near Nordstroms.  It is old and stately and reeks of old money.  We were waiting for them in the lobby when a woman with a cane and an obvious physical problem came in and headed down the hall toward the men’s room.  We called out to her.  She did not hear us.  So Rayman followed her down the hall only to return and announce, “It is too late.”  And you know what happened next.  A man headed down the same hallway.  Rayman jumped up and alerted him that a woman was in the men’s restroom.  We all got a laugh out of it.  He said, “Oh, yes.  The lady with the cane.  She just crossed the street against the light and stopped traffic.”   A few minutes later, the lady with the cane emerged intact.

While still waiting in the lobby, an old San Luis Obispo friend walked through the front door.  What a hoot.  Small world, definitely.  A world renowned specialist on Impressionists painters was in the house to give a lecture on the painters.  That’s why Patricia was there.  Check out a self portrait by clicking the link below.

https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0068V1962v

We were there to meet our friends as previously stated.  Sat out back on the patio.  The weather was lovely.  We had a lovely lunch while I filled them in on Uncle Ralph’s trust issues.  We dined on beet gazpacho that was out of the this world.  Then fresh fish.  Then cookies.  All washed down with a wonderful sauvingnon blanc.  Yum.  And the conversation was wide ranging from Uncle Ralph, to Korea, to Canada, to art, to books.  A thoroughly entertaining afternoon.

Oh, and then there was this.  As we left the house on the way to Santa Barbara, the property manager called.  You see, we are trying to rent our house for the summer as we will be gone in the Dog House for the entire summer.  She had a couple that wanted to see the house, like right then.  Okay, that is when I explained to her that two interior doors in the house were “missing” because we were getting two new doors, one for the den, one for the guest room.  I asked her to explain that to the couple.  New doors were coming and if they got to the house they might run into our contractor.  When it rains it pours.  The good news is that the house got rented for months of June and July.  Pretty cool.  Oh, and the doors are installed.

A quick blog to illustrate that dull moments don’t exist.

p.s.  The doors are done!!

Rayman at Industrial Eats.

15 minutes ago, I was busy composing blogs in my head and thought to myself, “Gee.  I should write a blog.”  So I unplugged my machine and brought it to bed with me so I could pontificate from the pillow.  But the computer wouldn’t start up as it usually does.  After 15 minutes of effort, I was getting ready to give up, and voila.  The computer started up.  What is that all about?  It is maddening.

But I digress.

The machine works and so i will try to engage my brain and pontificate as promised.  We are presently in Buellton at the RV park.  Been here since Thursday.  Having a wonderful time.  Two big things have happened.

First, we played golf at a course named Glen Annie.  A good test of golf.  Everything started out great and then the phone rang on the second hole.  My realtor.  He needed documentation that repairs on the Ocean house were completed (despite the re-inspection of last Sunday).  Okay.  So between my driver and my nine iron, I managed to arrange for my contractor to provide said documentation.  Actually, it took a long time in the end.  A call here, a call there.  Pretty soon it really started interrupting my golf game.  By the eighth hole, mission accomplished.   Rayman was not happy but what could I do?  My job beckoned.  He was a good sport about it most of the time.   Being a trustee is hard.  Your time is not your own.  So many problems.  Oops.  So many challenges.  That sounds more positive.

Second thing we did was drive down to Sherman Oaks (L.A.) so that Rayman could shop at Jimmy Au’s clothing store for men 5’8 or shorter.  A fabulous store.  Mr. Au is 80 years old and quite the sales guy.  He was down on the floor with his pin cushion shortening a pair of pants when I muttered, “Ray, do you intent to buy these?”  He didn’t.  But we had a swell time anyway.  Beau was invited in and the floor completely freaked him out.  He put on his breaks (he looked splayed)  and was not going to  move.  Shiny wood floors.  He did not like them.  While we were there a man came in and Rayman started talking with him.  They were comparing how many years of retirement they had under their belt(s).  The man had been retired 20 years.  Rayman said, “You don’t look a day over 59.”  The man said that was funny.  He wished he was.  Then he said, “Actually, I am glad I am as old as I am with the way things are going.  Who wants to be around?  I put in my wish to live to 92 but I’m backing off that.  Not such a good idea under the circumstances.”  Trump really is affecting people’s mental health.  Just saying.

On the way back, we stopped at Crush Cake’s in Santa Barbara to get some cupcakes and then we hightailed it back to Buellton to meet up with our bicycle friends.  A gaggle of them arrived today.

We dined at Industrial Eats.  Had a Caesar chocked full of garlic and anchovies, and a basil, tomato, cheese pizza (split one order of each).  We sat across from a couple from L.A. on their way home from Carmel with their “guide dog” which weighed about 1 pound.  And it sat in the lady’s purse.  They were vegans and had ordered 5 salads.  No wine.  Just water.  I admired their lifestyle.  That’s when he admitted he missed meat.  She didn’t.  And since she didn’t, I can only assume the only meat he will eat will be when she isn’t around.  Say lunch.  He had a hurt look on his face when admitting to his longings.  Think I’ll leave it there.

I did not post this blog so I am now p.s.ing.   Post script number one.  We played Sandpiper golf course which is located right on the Pacific ocean.  The weather was perfect.  A slight breeze made it perfect walking weather.  I do not exaggerate when i say that the course is bloody long.  Geeze.  400 yard par fours.  200 yard par threes.  However, the view is priceless.  When we arrived, we were paired up with two men.  They drove a cart.  It was a good thing too because they lost almost every ball they hit.  One shot would veer left.  The other shot would head right.  And as soon as they hit, they would jump in the cart and look and look and look for their balls.  In the meantime, Rayman and I would walk to ours and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  This went on the entire round except on the 11th hole.  I missed my drive and buried my ball in the heather.  Perched on the side of the hill with the ball way below my feet, I was really just concentrating on my golf game.  When we all arrived at the green, Doug, as usual, could not find his ball.  He finally announced that he must have rolled off the green down to the beach.  Literally, the beach.  So he dropped a ball and skulled it across the green.  I putted and went to the hole to take out the flagstick.  There was a ball in the hole.  OMG.  Doug’s ball.  A hole in one.  No one saw it.  No one suspected it.  Especially Doug.  Unbelievable, really.

My on the tee of the hole where Doug made a whole in one.

We also ran into the old pro from San Luis Obispo CC.  He is now the golf coach at Cal Poly and it just so happened that yesterday was the third day of West Coast college golf tournament.  Did I mention really tough pin placements?   And the greens were cut very short and they were quick.  It was great seeing Scott.

Rayman teeing it up on 18.

Oh, and I beat the Rayman.  Straight up and in match play.  Never got a par but I did celebrate a birdie on the 18th hole.  Just a foot away from the pin.  Sunk the putt.  Yippie.

See my marker? That’s where my ball came to rest.

My second post script is that we hosted 7 (9 all together) for a barbecue of chicken (a beer marinate) and tri-tip (olive oil, vinegar, oregano, salt and pepper marinate).  Our friends brought roasted veggies, French potato salad, and a yummy appetizer.  The weather was great and the company better.  Then K.C. made a deconstructed strawberry shortcake for dessert after a walk around the park.  Love our bicycle friends.  A great time was had by all because we are all like-minded…politically.  Blessed.

And the pic of Rayman at Industrial Eats is on this blog because we ate there twice and wanted to plug it.  Great food in Buellton.

Golf at Steele Canyon.

This blog captures key learnings from the week in Santee, CA.

Do not wear pants that aren’t made for golf when golfing.  To illustrate the point, I did just that.  I wore some hiking pants when I played golf earlier this week.  The pockets were shallow.  What that means is that the shallow pockets don’t hold a lot.  And when you play golf, you need pockets that will hold a golf ball, tees, a green repair tool, and a marker that is used for marking your ball on the green.  So, what happened?  I went to the bathroom and as I flushed the toilet, my ball jumped out of my pocket as I was pulling my pants back up and it fell in the toilet at the exact moment that the water was rushing out of the toilet and my ball was swallowed up by said toilet.  When I reported this calamity to the Rayman, he told me not to mention it to anyone.  So I didn’t.  Until now.

Another key learning was to shop on line whenever possible.  Which probably explains why Jeff Bozos is now richer than Warren Buffett.  But I digress.  Today, we drove to somewhere to buy something and we almost died.  Twice, two different cars passed me and intruded into my lane so closely that Rayman and I could only marvel that we weren’t killed.  I laid on the horn for the second occurrence.  The first guy’s bad driving forced me to brake and move to the left to avoid the collision.   So, no more trips to the store except for groceries and car washes.  Let your fingers do the shopping.

Let’s see.  What else?  Oh, don’t sit down too much.  On Thursday, we met up with one of my high school friends to play golf.  We were a threesome.  We were joined by Louie.  Louie was 94 years old.  Fit as a fiddle.  Sharp as a tack.  He beat us all.  Not only that, he roamed up hills to find our balls.  No need for him to roam up hills to find his balls.  He never hit it anywhere but straight down the middle.  And Louie grows orchids.  It’s one of his many hobbies.  Not only that, but Louie was a Lt. Col. in the Marines and went to Iwo Jima in WWII.  Really.  Said he was just plain lucky to survive.  However, I attribute his longevity to more than luck.  He is out doing it.  He reports that he walked the course until just a few years ago when all his friends started renting carts.  So, now he rides.  However, he was forever jumping out his cart helping us find our wayward balls.  And he provided my friend, Elissa, with countless golf tips.  I think he fancied her.  He was a jewel and we loved our time with him.  So.  Keep moving.  Don’t use age as an excuse.

If you want to empathize with black people or if you don’t empathize with black people, read The Underground Railroad.  I’m in the middle of this book and it is so painful and awful that even though it is a novel, I think it is true.  If you are unsympathetic to black people in America, the reading of this book will give you some insight into the realities of America’s original sin.  It won a National Book Award.  Is is well worth your time.  Published a year or so ago.   ahttp://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/08/22/the-perilous-lure-of-the-underground-railroad

One other note.  I thought the underground railroad was a euphemism.  My history needs improvement, obviously.  I am embarrassed to admit it but the underground railroads were, well, underground railroads.  Proves we can all learn new things.

Reconnecting with old friends is fun and worthwhile.   As mentioned earlier, I hooked up with my friend and we had a splendid time.  She and her main squeeze are coming over tomorrow for a barbecue.  We plan to have a great time again.  Can’t wait.

Don’t sit on your sunglasses.  We went to Nordstrom and I tried on a few things.  One item required me to remove my shoes.  So I sat down.  When we left the store, I donned my sunglasses and they were a kilter.   This required a trip to an eyeglasses store.  Luckily, the woman that helped me fixed the problem.  And she refused payment.  There are nice people in the world, aren’t there?   Even offered a tip.  She wouldn’t hear of it.

Shop with your husband.  Rayman always gravitates to grays, navy blues, black.  At Nordstroms, he bought a red plaid shirt.  Very handsome.  Bright colors are great for guys.  It should be encouraged.  Now if only he will buy some salmon colored shorts!!    See.  He fits right in with battleship gray.  Here he is on the USS Midway in the San Diego harbor.

As an older woman, what do you like to be called by a stranger?  Madam, young lady, Miss, or something yet again?  Madam in the french manner sounds okay to me.  I’m admittedly conflicted but young lady or Miss seems an afront.  I’m neither and don’t pretend that I am.   Here I am in a cockpit of an actual jet from WWII, I think.  Climbing in and out I definitely did not look like a young lady…many other descriptions come to mind.  

Okay.  That’s all the key learnings this week.  What will next week bring?  Stay tuned.

It’s out last day in the desert and a certain amount of introspection is required if for no other reason than it gives this woman something to do.

The wind is wreaking havoc sending the sheaths of the palm trees raining down from on high.  Those palm trees are amazing.  Tall, skinny.  Evolution proven without the assist from a certain bird or turtle.  Just look at plants.  After all, palm trees are, well, trees.  An oak is a tree.  Big difference with environment to thank for the discrepancies.  This area of the desert, Borrego Springs, is home to palm trees and orange and grapefruit trees.  The palm is infinitely more suited to the hostility of heat, wind, and lack of rain. The orange and grapefruit only exist with the help of man whom has figured out to move water to and fro.  Man, who has figured out how to pump water from beneath the surface of the desert.  So much so that the aquifer is drying up.

As a golfer, this brings me to full-throated anguish and deep feelings of guilt because here in the desert, man has figured out how to build golf courses and irrigate them.  It really shouldn’t be.  Water should be conserved here and over the mountain from here in Palm Desert.  But if they did not have golf courses, the houses might not sell.  Most golf courses that are not built by the taxpayer, known as muni courses, have been built to attract people with money that will spend that money on a house.  And don’t forget that gate.  Most courses in the desert sit behind gates in what is referred to as a gated community.  Keep the riff faff out is the message it sends.  And many people love the concept.

We drove back to Palm Desert the other day to buy me an iPad and buy some groceries.  Mile after mile of green grass lines the walkways that sit directly in front of the walls of the gated communities.   Fountains near the gated entrances squirt water in the air.  Meantime the earth sinks as water is pumped up.  What is wrong with this picture?  Oh, well.  With our new science denying President, we are in a world of hurt.  And all my wringing of hands won’t change a thing.

Actually not much that I do, changes a thing.  Except I think writing post cards and letters to our Representatives has had a positive effect.  Here’s to the fact that ACA survived the Republican onslaught.   I feel good about taking action.  Marching.  Writing.  It paid off.

But I digress.

I imagine palm trees as survivors of the ancient oceans that covered this part of the world.  They seem like kelp that spreads out at the surface of the water.  It is hard to imagine water having been here.  But when I do imagine it, kelp comes to mind.

We played golf yesterday.  Ram’s Hill a few miles up the hill from Borrego Springs.  A darling of a course in a gated community.  You see.  This is what drives me crazy.  The course had grass in too many places.  And it was lush and well watered.  And I am a contradiction looking for a place to happen.  Had a great round of golf and enjoyed it very much.  Bad me.  Two birdies.  One was almost a hole in one.  Made that putt!!

Just finished a book, Hillbilly Elergy.  I’m still thinking about it.  About white working class and white lower class people in Kentucky and Ohio.  And it really also could apply to all the southern states.  Health care is an example.  See this article.  http://kff.org/uninsured/issue-brief/the-coverage-gap-uninsured-poor-adults-in-states-that-do-not-expand-medicaid/   These states are red for the most part.  What don’t they understand?  Is there a correlation between this and education?  I’m not going to study it but I do wonder.  Why aren’t the people of those states clamoring for Medicaid?  I don’t know.

Here I go again, digressing.

If you have never availed yourself of the opportunity to see a super-bloom, you should put it on your bucket list.  As dead luck would have it, we arrived in the desert just in time for the peak of the bloom.  This trip had been scheduled for a year and so it really was blind luck.  Wow.  The brown desert was alive with color.  Brown turned to green.  No flowers turned to thick patches of yellow, white, red, purple and all shades in between.  I guess these flowering plants are another indication of evolution.  They are very smart, those

plants.  Only blooming when there is enough water.  Showing their plumage only after record rains arrive.  And along with all the flowers follow the people.  Like night following day.  They came in swarms like locust.  Clogging the streets with their motoring choice be it motorcycles, cars, trucks, SUVs, bicycles.  Did not see a segue. Did not see roller blades.   There were so many cars on the weekend that Montezuma’s Grade had to be closed down.  That’s the main artery, the only artery from Temecula and the inland empire.  And once the hoards arrived, it was clear they had no idea where to go.  Having been coming here for several years, we knew where to go.  But we didn’t go on the week end, but during the week instead.   I will admit that it was great fun to see all the people enjoying the scene and the scenery.  Beauty is still sought by many who are city dwellers.  It is encouraging to the human spirit.   Bitterwater Road and Carrizo Plains are two areas where we go near home.  And this year, Borrego really drove home the point that a super bloom should be experienced at least once.  Never have we seen anything like it in our area and we’re hoping that the super bloom occurred in those places as well.  It’s worth the drive to find out.

This trip has me feeling guilty.  I did not hike this year.  For the first week and a half it was just too darnned hot.  And then the winds came and a day of unsettled weather with raindrops occurred.  Fear of flash flooding clouded our thinking and we stayed near the RV.  We did walk from Holidays Homes RV park to places but never a hike.  Guess I will have to hike the Zoo when we arrive in San Diego.  Leaving tomorrow and so that is imminent.

I do have a bone to pick with the Rayman.  He isn’t giving me much material lately.  We’ve settled into RV life and don’t make the bonehead mistakes we used to make which provided much material for my blog.  This is distressing as a budding author.  What to do when your source of material stops messing up?  All suggestions will be appreciated.  I will not, however, stop blogging.  It is a hoot and serves as my diary of life.  Fun to re-read years later and I do mean years.  I started this in about 2008.  Or was it 2005?  I don’t know.  But it’s been awhile.  And the beat goes on.

We just returned from a whirl around the valley and I’m sad to say the flowers have peaked and are in a rapid decline.  The wind is gusting here today and the clouds are beautiful.  There are still a lot of travelers in town peaking at pedals and having fun doing it.  Life is good.