tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16717781454915622202024-03-05T17:15:02.460-08:00*Type B* (in the desert)(Former title: Soled Out)Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.comBlogger228125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-34432583776240564402022-12-06T13:09:00.028-08:002022-12-06T16:32:39.259-08:00A Christmas debate and another project<p>Having lived in NW Oregon most of my life, I was firmly in the Must-Have-A-Real-Christmas-Tree camp. When one is literally surrounded by tree farms full of reasonably priced, fresh, green trees, how could one <i>not </i>be? (Just my own biased and tainted opinion. This is an all-inclusive, multi-diversity blog. In other words, don't hate me.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPfV7RBAOTuWy10sXsJa7-HfiPz_1J8r8KSxqAZEuiDGAw-J2w0AgcWJg2BoAdc2B4RTUpti6m3nD2ZBfXDCQi3qVP8IrBP78aIVpL2nksp8sw8ZhzCOiBbveeXycYBqkXaH4vmg5p5NxwWqIoP2psFrRIArq8duSADspzy7XDCWTrwYgFNVbJOh7Hw/s304/A32F3BBC-741E-41F7-A24A-DAB3B6A85C2F_4_5005_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="164" data-original-width="304" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPfV7RBAOTuWy10sXsJa7-HfiPz_1J8r8KSxqAZEuiDGAw-J2w0AgcWJg2BoAdc2B4RTUpti6m3nD2ZBfXDCQi3qVP8IrBP78aIVpL2nksp8sw8ZhzCOiBbveeXycYBqkXaH4vmg5p5NxwWqIoP2psFrRIArq8duSADspzy7XDCWTrwYgFNVbJOh7Hw/w640-h346/A32F3BBC-741E-41F7-A24A-DAB3B6A85C2F_4_5005_c.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Now, it must be said about my childhood in the 1950s and 60s, naturally gangly and misshapen evergreens, with open branches that we drowned in silver tinsel, was the norm. They were truly something to behold, and we loved them.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_vXgD9Exs7qWvb2ih1hbtsncs2kMBTF3IFWk-WDGEowM2_KhlkDN8l4PVI-tNmCBFJ3PlPVsul_5fJz_Y3B11GGaB36kvMofGJ3iiUI5QtiNKBbdhr4qNpRYdmMbbLPzjqn6mg8ai_1zR9qBBsRoxhVXlPxa0nQjSgAmkjnN9jv-q3uFfiIMA4w9eA/s960/55217D28-6728-44E9-98A2-29C502951C7D.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_vXgD9Exs7qWvb2ih1hbtsncs2kMBTF3IFWk-WDGEowM2_KhlkDN8l4PVI-tNmCBFJ3PlPVsul_5fJz_Y3B11GGaB36kvMofGJ3iiUI5QtiNKBbdhr4qNpRYdmMbbLPzjqn6mg8ai_1zR9qBBsRoxhVXlPxa0nQjSgAmkjnN9jv-q3uFfiIMA4w9eA/w400-h320/55217D28-6728-44E9-98A2-29C502951C7D.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't laugh.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Nowadays, trees are trimmed into awful gumdrop-shaped bushes in which you have to search to find the trunk. But no doubt, each generation believes theirs is/was The Best, so I will concede that, <i>maybe,</i> the trees of MY childhood don't appeal to all. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(And they would be wrong.)</span></p><p>Then in my adult years, I determined that pre-cut trees sold in the local hardware store parking lot, aren't always as fresh as they appear. And when you have a wood stove in the vicinity of where you plan to put your tree, starting out with FRESH is quite important. So for many years, we trudged out into the wet December weather, to one of the many local farms and cut our own because, darn it, we were die-hard Oregonians and that is simply how it's done. </p><p>Then we moved to the desert. </p><p>Cut trees are trucked in (from somewhere) to be sold and hence, in my mind, they've probably already started dropping their needles ..... not unlike Charlie Brown’s sad little twig-tree. Plus we again have a wood stove to suck any remaining moisture out of whatever we haul home. </p><p>So 'twas time to buy our first fake tree .... which I found online. </p><p><i>(Side Note: I now realize that many people here are the real deal because they venture out into actual woods, in actual snow, in actual mountains, and cut down a wild tree. No pre-cut lots or farms for them. THAT is how it all began before even MY childhood, and deserves the full admiration and respect of all Christmas tree purists.)</i></p><p>It arrived wedged inside a large box that it would never again fit into .... and I tolerated it.</p><p>Not that the tree wasn't pretty. It definitely was. But I soon realized that fake trees have one BIG drawback, which is ..... eleven months of the year it must be stored ..... somewhere. </p><p>When we were planning to build our house, a friend advised that we should include in our design, a large closet into which we could roll a Christmas tree, fully upright and decorated, where it could remain untouched until we wheeled it out again the next December. This friend, I've decided, was very wise. But since I failed to heed this advice, I instead bought a bright red tree bag that was big enough to hold a couple of adults and their pet German Shepherd. It hung on large hooks up in our garage and looked like a garish, yet festive, cadaver bag clinging to the wall. </p><p>I ended up selling that tree to a friend who has more storage space than I do, and proceeded to Plan B.</p><p>Probably over a decade ago when Pinterest entered my life, I saved an enchanting picture of a homemade Christmas "tree". It was a lovely way to display a Christmas village. I vacillated over making one for years.</p><p><img alt="" class="hCL kVc L4E MIw" fetchpriority="auto" loading="auto" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3c/82/bc/3c82bc9c91e7ee6b242b036fe72d0d3a.jpg" /></p><p>I already had nine little village buildings, purchased many years previous. A start. Then my daughter caught hold of the idea and found several more pieces that matched my set which, as far as I know, are not made anymore, sending us to resale shops, garage sales, and eBay.</p><p>"Mom!", she'd phone. "I found five. How many do you want?" </p><p>Then I scored at a garage sale and ended up with a total of 23. There was no turning back now. </p><p>So with Husband's clever mind for engineering and function, we came up with our design .... </p><p> </p><p>Beginning with the base, he made a sturdy wooden box 24"x24" square, and 4" high, with a 4.5" hole in the center to fit the "trunk".</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDr0mTnAQkqELuSgiGr5r4-S1Oo5c-UIqVb3qejMKgUYxS55gZ1VU9EGdFFQ4hWlMZEHojZ0wNPsbV7Ne8FO2eTgL0LSqxhXtf6eJK7bcjIfonW-og8p9AmW35CCemG_U7s16jrP-HsT63FnOLGeJ0SaqSBk8z3K7Up6b5VBwBQODL-xUzRCP0dohxw/s4032/EF669A9D-2D16-435C-B792-809FF2C6D5A1.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlDr0mTnAQkqELuSgiGr5r4-S1Oo5c-UIqVb3qejMKgUYxS55gZ1VU9EGdFFQ4hWlMZEHojZ0wNPsbV7Ne8FO2eTgL0LSqxhXtf6eJK7bcjIfonW-og8p9AmW35CCemG_U7s16jrP-HsT63FnOLGeJ0SaqSBk8z3K7Up6b5VBwBQODL-xUzRCP0dohxw/w300-h400/EF669A9D-2D16-435C-B792-809FF2C6D5A1.heic" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upside down.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9eLN-ljs-poOzbEdz2765iNv7P5Q-OoI7eOAqJXARGVjXdSUbwAxpjCNmoJzGg4TWBNCO4AbeR537w6EEd2MMZIyXR9VY_raZa4Phs_0cQ_iG-vATLHWGOQqyWXC-GxfDhFE5M3eYlSV5OJKcmjXl5sjy0FFYi5PjNah0jEpzbodWCySlwLxBbpvMg/s4032/9AFFD366-CEC8-48E8-B14B-77D4D7311289.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9eLN-ljs-poOzbEdz2765iNv7P5Q-OoI7eOAqJXARGVjXdSUbwAxpjCNmoJzGg4TWBNCO4AbeR537w6EEd2MMZIyXR9VY_raZa4Phs_0cQ_iG-vATLHWGOQqyWXC-GxfDhFE5M3eYlSV5OJKcmjXl5sjy0FFYi5PjNah0jEpzbodWCySlwLxBbpvMg/w300-h400/9AFFD366-CEC8-48E8-B14B-77D4D7311289.heic" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the small circle piece below the hole, and the tiny hole in its center.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Using plastic ABS pipe, he cut six pieces. The bottom piece of pipe has a diameter of 4.5", and is 18" long. The next four pieces are each 12.5" long. From the bottom up, the pipe diameters are 4.5", 4.5", 3.5", and 2.5", so that the "trunk" will grow progressively narrower from the bottom to the top. The top piece of pipe is 1" diameter and 8" long.</p><p>Now for the "branches". From a sheet of 1/2" chipboard plywood, we cut five circles with diameters of 36", 30", 24", 18", and 12". He cut a 2" hole* in the center of each.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJnaIIycNr-71ey1YD1S1BadZqXkrIaVs_NfPOBDYdtII7rRNUO8vqp57cxXYHv2DdDxesHqTXQ02F2HriM6DSHSim45Gm3teUTd2Dy6qHmHEmRhGc-ttqscQPZIhYWjptwMKrJanFOkQK87rjGtkbE0OVbqsQF519Y8bM1YarxSpDmPdjaiBc3eamg/s4032/DC2ABFEE-FB0F-43DE-91A9-D471B2CAFEB4.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJnaIIycNr-71ey1YD1S1BadZqXkrIaVs_NfPOBDYdtII7rRNUO8vqp57cxXYHv2DdDxesHqTXQ02F2HriM6DSHSim45Gm3teUTd2Dy6qHmHEmRhGc-ttqscQPZIhYWjptwMKrJanFOkQK87rjGtkbE0OVbqsQF519Y8bM1YarxSpDmPdjaiBc3eamg/w300-h400/DC2ABFEE-FB0F-43DE-91A9-D471B2CAFEB4.heic" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*The holes in the center of each wooden circle were originally cut too small, hindering all the cords and plugs needing to pass through. So they were expanded to 2".</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>He cut small (1/2” thick) circles that glued onto the centers of both sides of the large circles, with the holes lined up. Each small circle was cut to fit snuggly into the "trunk" pipe, as shown above. This "trunk" is the conduit for all the electrical cords. At the base of each pipe section (except the bottom one), he cut a hole about 1"x2", for the electrical cords to enter and exit. I positioned these holes in the back side of the tree so they don't show.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPE-B6hwZtmQ0tc1GUbSfKTthob-H-LX5vKJ8e6PjicH-zKUAqD8kSajypljFrVz0ZCGzyYUqpeoJD4ugWr4DlIezdbaa0v_4yPSGwESCw4idrOYFH13Op53upx0HbmRJ0goDxE19MB39AC107hQdPqLSPrYyBsxGZ-piQdSD2Y2YFWI0_6YdX12fx5g/s2100/5DC52284-0E08-40A4-9660-9774A5790586_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPE-B6hwZtmQ0tc1GUbSfKTthob-H-LX5vKJ8e6PjicH-zKUAqD8kSajypljFrVz0ZCGzyYUqpeoJD4ugWr4DlIezdbaa0v_4yPSGwESCw4idrOYFH13Op53upx0HbmRJ0goDxE19MB39AC107hQdPqLSPrYyBsxGZ-piQdSD2Y2YFWI0_6YdX12fx5g/s320/5DC52284-0E08-40A4-9660-9774A5790586_1_201_a.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Husband used a threaded 1/4" steel rod .....</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcErqqnm2iXRqU7A4HEOdp87VBdvE2O8wFhQh8i9vFzirISON2MjNPQkJ6rgGhNFM1xXN7i9INUBnQIQICTfAGNWEKr99z2LHUbTxEhDrnw7POhyFifnYSt_KlNBVQFUTgcYPkAt4CvPCMsrMfNVKdpkkvj_k8YvZcxmKqi0d7cx9oWVFETnYG8CSVw/s4032/2C174D30-A076-43C7-A4FF-C1D42510B2B5.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcErqqnm2iXRqU7A4HEOdp87VBdvE2O8wFhQh8i9vFzirISON2MjNPQkJ6rgGhNFM1xXN7i9INUBnQIQICTfAGNWEKr99z2LHUbTxEhDrnw7POhyFifnYSt_KlNBVQFUTgcYPkAt4CvPCMsrMfNVKdpkkvj_k8YvZcxmKqi0d7cx9oWVFETnYG8CSVw/w300-h400/2C174D30-A076-43C7-A4FF-C1D42510B2B5.heic" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>.... and connected several lengths together with these.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpI6vuOoGKoQbT206y14VvLsbKvSdeINIlW4eA3DHd8XM4xbeIH3Aq2XD8HmDO44SYxGH8X0jLC46ZSKN-EiVmFZCdPY8ex9zQjjrjoNdnnL2nQo6Rw_VwSqJ3VHQqggbqZBxYWkKVTvUxQoc6CQEz-wTk889vYPoFI1Simndt9vUKFQc0eXqol_sGA/s4032/6D82B7FF-3865-4B27-B05A-016B345F729D.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpI6vuOoGKoQbT206y14VvLsbKvSdeINIlW4eA3DHd8XM4xbeIH3Aq2XD8HmDO44SYxGH8X0jLC46ZSKN-EiVmFZCdPY8ex9zQjjrjoNdnnL2nQo6Rw_VwSqJ3VHQqggbqZBxYWkKVTvUxQoc6CQEz-wTk889vYPoFI1Simndt9vUKFQc0eXqol_sGA/s320/6D82B7FF-3865-4B27-B05A-016B345F729D.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>The rod goes from that tiny hole in the base, up through the "trunk", to the top circle of the tree where it is all tightened down with a nut at each end.</p><p>After sanding all the wood, I painted everything white.</p><p>Assembling the whole thing was much easier in theory, than in actuality. It would be an understatement to say it was <i>challenging</i> to run the cords through the holes and pipe <i>while at the same time</i> fitting together the "trunk" pieces and wooden circles, from the bottom upward. Especially when Husband was at a meeting and I was flying solo at this point. There were a few cuss words and the ceiling fan turned to full speed to keep from sweating to death in the process. Then I decided it was too tall and had to be taken apart so I could cut an inch out of each "trunk" section and the building process began anew with more sweating and cussing. </p><p>Walmart was a big help by only being 20 minutes away and by stocking short lengths of twinkle lights and inexpensive power strips, of which I used four. </p><p>After the main assembly was complete, I cut a bunch of pieces of 2" styrofoam (upon which the village buildings would sit) and draped them all with quilt batting to create hills of "snow". The styrofoam and batting helped to hide the myriad of cords underneath.</p><p>That threaded rod emerged from the top circle, tall enough to stick on that last piece of 1" diameter pipe which holds the star. </p><p>Finally, around the outer edge of each circle, I screwed in 40 small metal hooks, about 9-10" apart. These hold the garland and twinkle lights. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_QGAqZlIjWj8PQTKhxZMhoVRSyVO3IdaTfk36F5Hkc9wKTIP7vSAVPuA-PRrFjQPqA_1qUU-Q8LFcZlpK2o0c3M9-Yepc0Iulh1CoAhuYnjFT4JULwwn-L2sdvBfJv_rYUreRXgvWsai0ir5YaiEwkWv96WEqXF67WQe5B-2AsIf9xO4_UjJgyUeSA/s3024/5977C268-A562-4DBD-84F5-2E06B42F5419.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_QGAqZlIjWj8PQTKhxZMhoVRSyVO3IdaTfk36F5Hkc9wKTIP7vSAVPuA-PRrFjQPqA_1qUU-Q8LFcZlpK2o0c3M9-Yepc0Iulh1CoAhuYnjFT4JULwwn-L2sdvBfJv_rYUreRXgvWsai0ir5YaiEwkWv96WEqXF67WQe5B-2AsIf9xO4_UjJgyUeSA/s320/5977C268-A562-4DBD-84F5-2E06B42F5419.heic" width="320" /></a></div><p> (By the way, the garland was purchased probably 30 years ago at Costco and it was the <i>exact</i> amount needed. ‘Tis the season of miracles.)</p><p>And this was the result .....</p><p><span style="text-align: center;">(Not quite as grand as the one from Pinterest, but pretty enough.) It measures approximately 7.5' tall from the floor to the top of the star.</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kURuGOUQqCA-_lh3sAUy63bjj7A5rjc679wMQ3GZW9iS8JiOK-NYgXy9OKaqYH63xKRzHG2rBnfljn4XDJ5kS-1qLq9zcnnFyDEnSOi1r_vkaN0wd4ve32djBzDHPa38czzAFjELhd7paSe0FWgocMPTYYFPdnWbAEiuCo8_X3L5YdnlqSt7PwbR1g/s4032/1AA2C2DA-56AE-4582-A64B-5E1A2D6BE512.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kURuGOUQqCA-_lh3sAUy63bjj7A5rjc679wMQ3GZW9iS8JiOK-NYgXy9OKaqYH63xKRzHG2rBnfljn4XDJ5kS-1qLq9zcnnFyDEnSOi1r_vkaN0wd4ve32djBzDHPa38czzAFjELhd7paSe0FWgocMPTYYFPdnWbAEiuCo8_X3L5YdnlqSt7PwbR1g/w480-h640/1AA2C2DA-56AE-4582-A64B-5E1A2D6BE512.heic" width="480" /></a><br /><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbHV0tGeylIBXE6jY2TTnI1JcghBhnUbG1F9mFo4EZ-j2-iwPUG4UL3VmKuiXRhAGkPmf2HM2BXqXuCUGlE0BnvmdF9kcKvM8e3IlQZaEhpjokgGRrwIBBk4-_1ELF4l6poQGIFQw9RsLbYEZHDJvFx5tZHXT0_uaBs_NH3-9anw8MjwvjJNsGsFPuw/s3024/DE8BC3A6-49A6-4010-B14D-29AF49440674.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbHV0tGeylIBXE6jY2TTnI1JcghBhnUbG1F9mFo4EZ-j2-iwPUG4UL3VmKuiXRhAGkPmf2HM2BXqXuCUGlE0BnvmdF9kcKvM8e3IlQZaEhpjokgGRrwIBBk4-_1ELF4l6poQGIFQw9RsLbYEZHDJvFx5tZHXT0_uaBs_NH3-9anw8MjwvjJNsGsFPuw/s320/DE8BC3A6-49A6-4010-B14D-29AF49440674.heic" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQqHXR16blbUDYPgaOcRnyc6xhu1kx9fK4pEpzWJ0Cg27xQVjcXOARXrIaQJV4lLZEb6LdacdlwzbwSvGOPeEZ7sc_UgwGpfWLs2xOdfClSMxxI7d_bA7dC5-rhqbapT3xf_UClLvqyU0Pd1qlZCZMVHASAG83ZsbExPkWGCDzspAV278QBXv06nDAGQ/s4032/20DC5E9F-34A7-4284-95F8-4D66312C2566.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQqHXR16blbUDYPgaOcRnyc6xhu1kx9fK4pEpzWJ0Cg27xQVjcXOARXrIaQJV4lLZEb6LdacdlwzbwSvGOPeEZ7sc_UgwGpfWLs2xOdfClSMxxI7d_bA7dC5-rhqbapT3xf_UClLvqyU0Pd1qlZCZMVHASAG83ZsbExPkWGCDzspAV278QBXv06nDAGQ/s320/20DC5E9F-34A7-4284-95F8-4D66312C2566.heic" width="240" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p>I'm not happy with the trunk because it looks exactly like what it is .... painted plastic pipe. So next year I plan to cover it, or paint it differently ..... or something. We'll see. But for now, it ain't coming apart till January. </p><p>Now for the best part: It will all disassemble and store compactly in the garage. </p><p>And no more gigantic body bags.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: x-large;">* Merry Christmas *</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-42904849762261731772022-11-12T08:31:00.008-08:002022-11-12T12:25:34.670-08:00Latest project and the how-to<p></p><br />When we built our house, we kept things to a minimum. Now and then I regret this decision because with the latest influx of grandkids (12.5 at last count), we no longer all fit here. Alas. Not that our house is small, it's just not <i>big</i>. Thus organization is a must, which segues nicely to a recent project--<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><u>My Sewing Cabinet</u></p><p>I do not have a dedicated sewing room. Instead, my sewing machine has occupied a spot on a small desk in one of our guest bedrooms. Visually, this isn't optimum when an overnight guest is on the premises. So I came up with an idea. (Unfortunately I didn't think of blogging about this until it was finished, so I can't show all the steps. But it's pretty simple.)</p><p>Step #1: Find a used TV armoire. I found this on Facebook Marketplace for $40.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLO0_V1nGM31V3ItHPgIa3rWwc8SKCrGYqicZSpCm8Rp8ESLdHn3Xm677y5imC8-f0Ox_BNYfwWQNwprdzWpoMM_Wn4uqGtLbLz6JJsJSSEkjAJxKrAC9DfZOZgb4wiDdojHtG-RPWBIa_uEzBQ-oD1f6oojq6t96mDz-HWQh_xaDQCTPfmLndbyRX1w/s960/EA6C6BA9-D67F-4F84-A9BC-9A2B75CBF572.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLO0_V1nGM31V3ItHPgIa3rWwc8SKCrGYqicZSpCm8Rp8ESLdHn3Xm677y5imC8-f0Ox_BNYfwWQNwprdzWpoMM_Wn4uqGtLbLz6JJsJSSEkjAJxKrAC9DfZOZgb4wiDdojHtG-RPWBIa_uEzBQ-oD1f6oojq6t96mDz-HWQh_xaDQCTPfmLndbyRX1w/w300-h400/EA6C6BA9-D67F-4F84-A9BC-9A2B75CBF572.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOJUx5PmvHAl16MIYmpoWoNpJvKFVKTYAHuMod2I2gBc5r6qBAQ2nPSs2dK7xrP_shkvRgVyFvyvZuxGB0Dy9NYEj0puSicIBJuYikJsQkNw_cHZE3zOi3nSN4k9GH-0UjoDWqXX_MHA5PLvPpMQmXAKsQT_Lr8Yct9E9_tNEkI7RFGw4uy3nJICASg/s4032/08ACB393-BCA5-49FA-8ED1-5F50400290E0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOJUx5PmvHAl16MIYmpoWoNpJvKFVKTYAHuMod2I2gBc5r6qBAQ2nPSs2dK7xrP_shkvRgVyFvyvZuxGB0Dy9NYEj0puSicIBJuYikJsQkNw_cHZE3zOi3nSN4k9GH-0UjoDWqXX_MHA5PLvPpMQmXAKsQT_Lr8Yct9E9_tNEkI7RFGw4uy3nJICASg/w300-h400/08ACB393-BCA5-49FA-8ED1-5F50400290E0.jpeg" width="300" /></a></p><p>Step #2: Remove all hardware and <i>try not to lose any of it.</i> Then remove the doors and don't lose them either.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;">Step #3: Thoroughly "buff" the entire surface with something like this gritty, scrubby material (not to be confused with those green scrub pads that you clean your pots and pans with) ....</p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FV3kHjgVgjHiB9hv3EhiBft1kUGeZqAhqMcwGmK1fw6ZD5zqm8MewIAVo5uSEoqt2WtM2nKNE3PLPZUTmPGVxLj5_u5icoEdhBH0UVBKh5JJDwpFHgjKV4UIyk_NJw4AaknFE1FUgrKSt8asInAqoyP7SL7h4998JthHKqJEWw_HYkY-C6hjI58s1Q/s4032/945268D2-C49D-41E1-B997-FA25EAF3F339.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FV3kHjgVgjHiB9hv3EhiBft1kUGeZqAhqMcwGmK1fw6ZD5zqm8MewIAVo5uSEoqt2WtM2nKNE3PLPZUTmPGVxLj5_u5icoEdhBH0UVBKh5JJDwpFHgjKV4UIyk_NJw4AaknFE1FUgrKSt8asInAqoyP7SL7h4998JthHKqJEWw_HYkY-C6hjI58s1Q/w240-h320/945268D2-C49D-41E1-B997-FA25EAF3F339.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p>.... to remove the glossy finish, because if you're foolish like me, you are wanting to paint it. </p><p>Step #4: (Here's where things went south for a while, so avoid following my example on this step.) Let me just say .... choose your paint carefully. Do not cut corners here. Don't believe the internet when it tells you to use an oil-base enamel paint. Don't use leftover paint that's been languishing for a few years on a shelf in your garage. If you happen to have a paint sprayer, don't use it on a hot day. Get yourself a small can of some good semi-gloss, water-base cabinet/trim paint.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGys5mCcAF4kSUVlyLJgdxCrsxvwYzYdLfA9b4YwuCQ2y52vDyfg5gAK91BRapWf5DuCAqfx7vbVMWJY5LWcEEmL-gzLQBu6Ncao_ftrrjFgCrt3O14WqI-VPpY1LP5SoJvd--8qmkHySL-DGHm6-7EgEl0qQcRbfui7QjLjWe5oJcQ5iDhDj_VBLzCw/s3563/DEEC766C-C833-4480-A092-6EBD0CC5D69C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3563" data-original-width="2608" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGys5mCcAF4kSUVlyLJgdxCrsxvwYzYdLfA9b4YwuCQ2y52vDyfg5gAK91BRapWf5DuCAqfx7vbVMWJY5LWcEEmL-gzLQBu6Ncao_ftrrjFgCrt3O14WqI-VPpY1LP5SoJvd--8qmkHySL-DGHm6-7EgEl0qQcRbfui7QjLjWe5oJcQ5iDhDj_VBLzCw/s320/DEEC766C-C833-4480-A092-6EBD0CC5D69C.jpeg" width="234" /></a></div><p>Trust me on this so that, hopefully, you will not have to re-sand and repaint FOUR times. <span style="font-size: x-small;">I am not kidding. </span> Then, after you have all this figured out .... paint the darn thing.</p><p>Step #5: Somehow insert entire armoire into your house without gouging any walls or door frames.</p><p>Step #6: Reattach all hardware and doors <i>because you did not lose them, right?!?</i> </p><p>Here's where it starts to get fun .....</p><p>Step #7: I made a panel to cover the interior back wall, out of a cut-to-fit sheet of 1/4" hardboard, covered with 1/4" foam, and fabric, using spray glue and a hot glue gun. You can find the <a href="https://www.joann.com/pellon-76-flex-foam-naked-no-tricot-20in-wide/17310970.html"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">foam</span></a> at JoAnn's and it has the word "naked" in the title. (I know not why .... ) Fabric stores are limited where I live and for whatever reason, I wanted an old-fashioned, grandma-ish print, which JoAnn's failed to produce. But good ol' Walmart came through. This panel was attached with screws.</p><p>Step #8: Build shelves to go into the inside upper portion of the cabinet and above all, do NOT injure yourself with any power tools especially if your spouse/partner has gone fishing and is not home. Paint and install.</p><p>Step #9: Install <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VL6FWTP?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">light fixture</span></a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CVFZP38?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">power strip</span></a>. </p><p>Step #10: Enlist husband (or anyone handy) to design/build a shelf, upon which your sewing machine will sit. Sand and stain (or paint). Then reenlist same husband/handy-person to mount it on heavy-duty drawer <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HQBSLLM?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">slides</span></a>. (Warning, these slides are more expensive than you'd think.) This shelf, when installed, should sit about 30" from the floor, which is the standard height of a desk or table.</p><p>Step #11: Accessorize. I installed <span style="color: #ff00fe;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B097MDQJXL?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">spool racks</span></a> </span>which were also unexpectedly pricey considering I gave some away during our last move. I bought the small wall-mount spice rack at Home Goods several years ago .... as I recall. Finally, trot on over to Dollar Tree for some inexpensive baskets.</p><p>Step #12: Step back and admire.</p><p>One of my worries was that this <i>very tall </i>black cabinet might overwhelm the room or frighten various wee grandkids trying to sleep nearby. But after moving it in, the room is fine .... and I think all visiting wee grandkids will be as well.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76C_HktmE2eVMZ_9Rwd6GGzXJRjhrAR2DmxapSwQiQYsYcvSaz5zM9CPbY47itsEJF4oa3ZofoImUlRTmcmt_IE8j4ebsSFzXH74Lz8joNQ-29XcK8qidEfAU7hZ5C0H7FLsDCARq2n7q7pyHoWWwXwbwRKnwsoCm3eYdiI-DAyOButANLW1bJTkxWg/s3625/0882A413-F808-4C5D-B797-3CC0554CC0EB.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3625" data-original-width="2719" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76C_HktmE2eVMZ_9Rwd6GGzXJRjhrAR2DmxapSwQiQYsYcvSaz5zM9CPbY47itsEJF4oa3ZofoImUlRTmcmt_IE8j4ebsSFzXH74Lz8joNQ-29XcK8qidEfAU7hZ5C0H7FLsDCARq2n7q7pyHoWWwXwbwRKnwsoCm3eYdiI-DAyOButANLW1bJTkxWg/w480-h640/0882A413-F808-4C5D-B797-3CC0554CC0EB.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ta-Da!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pFG2aWpCrdM5sxpjpvLTN6UWKo1MdHp-j_3UkxJ1_DDEOECGORU7Ap_m447eJnbIsxo4RytO1Tg1z8KP1jzib478ILzEyiV6PsQe93GDvw1bSevjMOQTSAgqjpKyYqLgCoZWD5h4lEmsjbFLWxSixFGNDLol7etDX6GRdtLRVPF-wC25C2Df7_Q6sg/s4032/20E5AE08-4A27-4194-B457-3C9D0D1E8111.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pFG2aWpCrdM5sxpjpvLTN6UWKo1MdHp-j_3UkxJ1_DDEOECGORU7Ap_m447eJnbIsxo4RytO1Tg1z8KP1jzib478ILzEyiV6PsQe93GDvw1bSevjMOQTSAgqjpKyYqLgCoZWD5h4lEmsjbFLWxSixFGNDLol7etDX6GRdtLRVPF-wC25C2Df7_Q6sg/w480-h640/20E5AE08-4A27-4194-B457-3C9D0D1E8111.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't turn the light on inside because in the photo it caused a glare.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5jIFBXCg5QgDd_W_YLE1eMkpiifw910rhJ0S_RSc_AK0lW3Vv9YRCekkKcvTLZ6qd9cb680zibPRRM9ZwOa4WrP1YPtaMXbm1PW4fGdxX1duB0J9RyGK4zeqjUMjBjeXBXWfJa9CxVLXjM1qePUqEveSXMReJHdIozaEt_C_Ue_bUkO1OWTvBYjyxw/s4032/39286541-26FB-4F7A-A444-4A4AF55EA7D2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_5jIFBXCg5QgDd_W_YLE1eMkpiifw910rhJ0S_RSc_AK0lW3Vv9YRCekkKcvTLZ6qd9cb680zibPRRM9ZwOa4WrP1YPtaMXbm1PW4fGdxX1duB0J9RyGK4zeqjUMjBjeXBXWfJa9CxVLXjM1qePUqEveSXMReJHdIozaEt_C_Ue_bUkO1OWTvBYjyxw/w480-h640/39286541-26FB-4F7A-A444-4A4AF55EA7D2.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IIJmhC3c6-krKUCY8CRvTBZbw5MlqNrM1AtM6bQOPFat621lXpDGSZlUEiOeab5xEE-A9jVrPThWfuV0TYvtBROTXo8f8kHWOUiD_GGkF1oW6paYI_lp1uvsUUoR6hfIQVes5p6PQoht02ZCFAUFONV6hXA6aCt96lCcSsEoucxusAINXtSASHH0TA/s4032/B8E81037-CF7F-40AD-AB0F-F1A8645E688E.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2546" data-original-width="4032" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IIJmhC3c6-krKUCY8CRvTBZbw5MlqNrM1AtM6bQOPFat621lXpDGSZlUEiOeab5xEE-A9jVrPThWfuV0TYvtBROTXo8f8kHWOUiD_GGkF1oW6paYI_lp1uvsUUoR6hfIQVes5p6PQoht02ZCFAUFONV6hXA6aCt96lCcSsEoucxusAINXtSASHH0TA/w400-h253/B8E81037-CF7F-40AD-AB0F-F1A8645E688E.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yes .... I found these large cat litter bins that fit perfectly on the lower shelves, to hold fabric scraps.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qoXnlONIZxnnoHO_Q7DUuI9TWCd-T12OA-OMA1e62Vrh4Kx_LX3ViLSvHZsFV6SFCG4bXsh6jaUJmzkDXZakCUmHuC1uPrjrASM8kkElFTPrLz5wm8VxCpdzYhvogMp9L4HS0VyugaXlHScRXirO14GXSeC4b8Kpm875pQKk9gaZLIGk5aKF3ZKnxA/s3161/389A973E-A405-4F87-90CD-54072D60ADD4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3161" data-original-width="3023" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-qoXnlONIZxnnoHO_Q7DUuI9TWCd-T12OA-OMA1e62Vrh4Kx_LX3ViLSvHZsFV6SFCG4bXsh6jaUJmzkDXZakCUmHuC1uPrjrASM8kkElFTPrLz5wm8VxCpdzYhvogMp9L4HS0VyugaXlHScRXirO14GXSeC4b8Kpm875pQKk9gaZLIGk5aKF3ZKnxA/s320/389A973E-A405-4F87-90CD-54072D60ADD4.jpeg" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in another corner, a rocking chair that was successfully painted on the first try!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCkcJUixCH7c5aIuqix1lCXRGIdWvtsSh432dlT2-emZBePBFH0paPnvSCs1zYi0xMGcBsPqRBMLduFePtH8BTV20HkUTAmcU1IyvIxHKgZQUPEr5synOPMJeF5wJiYPMmga_tPJhmt0DkAsT4p-MAbPNNzZ1uxe0__-t-sNP1zTbi-ChrBaRi_nylw/s3750/6DDCE5BB-AB90-4519-B0A2-39B5AD3C85D9.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2741" data-original-width="3750" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCkcJUixCH7c5aIuqix1lCXRGIdWvtsSh432dlT2-emZBePBFH0paPnvSCs1zYi0xMGcBsPqRBMLduFePtH8BTV20HkUTAmcU1IyvIxHKgZQUPEr5synOPMJeF5wJiYPMmga_tPJhmt0DkAsT4p-MAbPNNzZ1uxe0__-t-sNP1zTbi-ChrBaRi_nylw/w640-h468/6DDCE5BB-AB90-4519-B0A2-39B5AD3C85D9.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll go ahead and show the rest of the room, because it's cute. By the way, that table was a $3 find at Goodwill. It actually came that color! Everything else in this room (except bed, bedding and curtains and that curly thing above the bed that I found at Hobby Lobby) came from garage sales.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-12825443726597232482022-09-14T14:35:00.172-07:002022-11-12T11:24:44.245-08:00The "Final Frontier"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">(Pictures with ** came from the web.)</span></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe0eUpLUvPtwde_kEWlATXuywtT6ITSF7tySWUFN3Sz8aLsOxq4GTCyWPDletUOvjO7Usj2wQNHR_whahiLgiAF0imVkjmCN7S5WLuKAyOSpfbVPRT1b2fwdU097_6-JTQEmilu3h_Om1d3RWIXxzAYL4OCTv-GAqOV_bf0SnRmIbRbHw_wuuMpVr5w/s5184/B893534C-7FEB-4844-B69E-47DDA35C7472.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe0eUpLUvPtwde_kEWlATXuywtT6ITSF7tySWUFN3Sz8aLsOxq4GTCyWPDletUOvjO7Usj2wQNHR_whahiLgiAF0imVkjmCN7S5WLuKAyOSpfbVPRT1b2fwdU097_6-JTQEmilu3h_Om1d3RWIXxzAYL4OCTv-GAqOV_bf0SnRmIbRbHw_wuuMpVr5w/w640-h422/B893534C-7FEB-4844-B69E-47DDA35C7472.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Alaska has always seemed like a man's country and I suppose it's due to the robust amount of outdoor sports .... such as the all-popular fishing, hunting, and um .... fishing. It has been on Husband's List for a long time, so after a year of planning, we went. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Not by plane. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Not by boat. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Instead we drove approximately 6800 miles up through Canada and back in our van, over a total of five weeks and two days. We did an Alaska cruise years ago which was one of our favorites, but you don't really SEE that much of Alaska on a cruise. You just don't. But the truth is, we still only saw a small part of it this time. It's just so big. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;">We started north during one of our triple-digit heat waves at home and got to our son's home in Washington (in even more heat) to drop off our dog. (Thanks again, C & L !) We then drove north like we were on a team of galloping horses with me whipping the reins yelling GO! GO!, knowing cool weather was ahead. We didn't stop until after we crossed the border in northern Idaho where it was still hot ..... and hot the next day too. And the next. But we eventually got to where it cooled down into the blessed 60s and I found heaven.</p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxbvB2APDNu8U3VybQKZMhl1-louE98x1Efqq5Rp988gdJTjLkoSYYk-HoX5He0FRAkNKrVqVPRtPpDmDNJy2GXFulzEXoLLxiEFKuJV3hHliZkP_mVsBXJcr6GrvrB4QEvE9jIhFTohOEIgkLtlxj_kOPIxjXMAmoGR6UeUQ7gQ9WrlQTP9Rmj8oGw/s2048/137F29DF-A3A3-46B4-83AB-4FCC95283266.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAxbvB2APDNu8U3VybQKZMhl1-louE98x1Efqq5Rp988gdJTjLkoSYYk-HoX5He0FRAkNKrVqVPRtPpDmDNJy2GXFulzEXoLLxiEFKuJV3hHliZkP_mVsBXJcr6GrvrB4QEvE9jIhFTohOEIgkLtlxj_kOPIxjXMAmoGR6UeUQ7gQ9WrlQTP9Rmj8oGw/w640-h480/137F29DF-A3A3-46B4-83AB-4FCC95283266.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just inside the Alaska border.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>"Let's move here!" I exclaimed. </p><p>"It's dark all winter", reminds Husband.</p><p>"Who needs daylight? All I need in the winter is a wood stove, a book, maybe a puzzle, and I'm good." </p><p>But that idea was short-lived because I quickly realized my list of needs was a bit longer than that. </p><p>"Or .....", says I, "We can come up every August and stay for a month! How hard would that be??" (I had visions of never again enduring hot weather and Husband, who was pondering all the fishing, was fully on board.)</p><p>That last idea was discussed quite a few times over the next few weeks before it finally died a quiet death.</p><p>We drove up through the stunning Banff National Park in British Columbia, where mountains were invented, or so we thought. (We later learned they were <i>actually</i> invented in Alaska.) Too often people bypass Canada in their quest to see Alaska, and miss a lot of incredible scenery. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTJWarSmRnUE9jqexSJh-F3vuuSHkWJLQFuPFQLz2Xy0ERHoElQ5ieIXNey8K-rCK-Iajv7dl2lfPbYkNYwEvK9ms2DNiYh3NAnBuq3OQexcKEmBZoZyxe31U7PdAyXjaZIVaQOxS2qV2oWHUqhu_ZmX_LNgomlIWGRuwmBoA5x8xk5DzaFYBlyhaRw/s2048/D6C66A8E-0119-40FB-8A6D-EE4864A5D7F4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTJWarSmRnUE9jqexSJh-F3vuuSHkWJLQFuPFQLz2Xy0ERHoElQ5ieIXNey8K-rCK-Iajv7dl2lfPbYkNYwEvK9ms2DNiYh3NAnBuq3OQexcKEmBZoZyxe31U7PdAyXjaZIVaQOxS2qV2oWHUqhu_ZmX_LNgomlIWGRuwmBoA5x8xk5DzaFYBlyhaRw/w640-h480/D6C66A8E-0119-40FB-8A6D-EE4864A5D7F4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Gotta love that glacial silt color. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbJoKMKQf24l5QLKmlhiAZINhsrN01Klo1aho0r7jxSoe-O_gzTybpSFfcBZgqczRLM_eR0PvYjAt0lloCT93pydQKzk-P-mpLbYF1J9zfuAlBd0tvGOz8x-m77OoyN65pGTxUC8QYxq_nMw_jwP_f1DzsgHGuxXgxcfsJmy5q7JN1z_geF95PMvlDQ/s5472/0754C828-D5A5-451F-9E93-9AC7FA4E5A96.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicbJoKMKQf24l5QLKmlhiAZINhsrN01Klo1aho0r7jxSoe-O_gzTybpSFfcBZgqczRLM_eR0PvYjAt0lloCT93pydQKzk-P-mpLbYF1J9zfuAlBd0tvGOz8x-m77OoyN65pGTxUC8QYxq_nMw_jwP_f1DzsgHGuxXgxcfsJmy5q7JN1z_geF95PMvlDQ/w424-h640/0754C828-D5A5-451F-9E93-9AC7FA4E5A96.jpeg" width="424" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More Banff.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p> After a few days of driving, we came to the town of Dawson Creek in The Yukon, which is the official start of the Alaska/Canada highway, aka the "Alcan".</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCd51gUqHSrFx7B9vrgk_YnfSb8N1MZPjJ2BjLsMkO__L9WgjE3IjC071_dqQ9epc_0rKf9d60v4e4ndxX1AzHoEhfKCnJROT9pILNv1-7zVT-Y20f-_N9fG2I3Phj_qOefNfQT3lwr0xyNzDFW0d8Ip7tTgdK81GxqHvK9VS1TiNK_S4SjYj3wi5_Hw/s2048/E80AEF6D-B455-4F0B-8823-0F8C21D03861.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCd51gUqHSrFx7B9vrgk_YnfSb8N1MZPjJ2BjLsMkO__L9WgjE3IjC071_dqQ9epc_0rKf9d60v4e4ndxX1AzHoEhfKCnJROT9pILNv1-7zVT-Y20f-_N9fG2I3Phj_qOefNfQT3lwr0xyNzDFW0d8Ip7tTgdK81GxqHvK9VS1TiNK_S4SjYj3wi5_Hw/w640-h480/E80AEF6D-B455-4F0B-8823-0F8C21D03861.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>This highway was built during WWII when Alaska (before it was even a state) became valuable in the strategic placement of military bases. It was a rough road back then but today, any car with decent tires can drive it. There are enough sources for fuel along the way and the prevailing wisdom is to always top off your tank when you encounter any bedraggled gas station with working pumps, some of which appear to have been built during the Depression. </p><p>Husband's obsession with spotting wild animals was at a fever pitch. I love to see them too, but his eyes literally did not leave the road or the terrain along the road, or the meadows, fields, lakes, etc., in case something was moving out there. Only once did I spot one before he did. We saw several grizzlies and other bears, a few moose (my first!), caribou, elk, and buffalo. But we saw far more road signs warning of wildlife .... than actual wildlife. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxlGCaKPogjSaaqrIXXIg6SX03u_EkApqS2Hn3-GmDQ1uGwIbQT2Y0poy--z1eN-jo-ZioFvvkSrXAF3qTjXw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSn2Mwy0vO62Cm8SUlYF8dl5SVO6XWp90dZePflYLbqT1qmMLOgLkiIq3loQvBl72tKhPwKSMTCrxk_Ys9KYp7W_0PlWf9wOLmUZeQ5t03qEYgcU4UmMqumPaHpHuB1_mx9CWimGk0P1jucMGQniQMcUp7zUzOmCAr6GoKhjpSshOoJXW-HvWzKOVBhw/s1342/9BF6F04A-89FC-4185-B38E-43BA69DF6136.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1342" data-original-width="1225" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSn2Mwy0vO62Cm8SUlYF8dl5SVO6XWp90dZePflYLbqT1qmMLOgLkiIq3loQvBl72tKhPwKSMTCrxk_Ys9KYp7W_0PlWf9wOLmUZeQ5t03qEYgcU4UmMqumPaHpHuB1_mx9CWimGk0P1jucMGQniQMcUp7zUzOmCAr6GoKhjpSshOoJXW-HvWzKOVBhw/w582-h640/9BF6F04A-89FC-4185-B38E-43BA69DF6136.jpeg" width="582" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That fat butt belongs to a big ol' grizzly.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOfiWRj6gOdL1zVP9g4J8l-VlAv1ns_OCv_uE-ZYRP56xBm8vXNRORVRotyHmsQ8Ut9UUwIb-4GIPKbaIA8z3UibK7pVq_Wadua-L-xB6uqTy0-7vwbAW9xABUP4UZ96Lg0Lp1tzDrDpsOkyPXr76Ic5GEtfvg9y_5lrHpLTIEoTUAKpmYxZhshSgUQ/s5184/E653FDBA-BD78-4DD5-AA63-FFBF9574AEF6.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOfiWRj6gOdL1zVP9g4J8l-VlAv1ns_OCv_uE-ZYRP56xBm8vXNRORVRotyHmsQ8Ut9UUwIb-4GIPKbaIA8z3UibK7pVq_Wadua-L-xB6uqTy0-7vwbAW9xABUP4UZ96Lg0Lp1tzDrDpsOkyPXr76Ic5GEtfvg9y_5lrHpLTIEoTUAKpmYxZhshSgUQ/w640-h424/E653FDBA-BD78-4DD5-AA63-FFBF9574AEF6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose. Sadly, we never saw one with antlers.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODALIoAqG3I-KcB8nTT3WYWNp7MVjcTkQofwjibGadqEnQAAyxMLx_iTopJCeLy4atMEQegHvQH-3m6rt93gNiA-gWU6CfJi4XvK-fZRVCKX3q5wGPHAK8eerROuyq5i3dbmECkUmXNLfcDdH9utixe7Ivp3snt6QspMdAS1uSoujVD-5J2cIpnFFEQ/s3524/E1A3C948-3827-4B99-BB49-05C6DE673947.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2738" data-original-width="3524" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODALIoAqG3I-KcB8nTT3WYWNp7MVjcTkQofwjibGadqEnQAAyxMLx_iTopJCeLy4atMEQegHvQH-3m6rt93gNiA-gWU6CfJi4XvK-fZRVCKX3q5wGPHAK8eerROuyq5i3dbmECkUmXNLfcDdH9utixe7Ivp3snt6QspMdAS1uSoujVD-5J2cIpnFFEQ/w640-h498/E1A3C948-3827-4B99-BB49-05C6DE673947.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caribou</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Typically, people enter Alaska (by car) and drive a loop, as did we. Up to Fairbanks, then down to Denali National Park, then on down to Anchorage, then southeast to the Kenai Peninsula where the touristy towns of Homer and Seward are found. From there we drove through a 2.5 mile tunnel to the dreary little town of Whittier and caught a ferry to Valdez, then up to the tiny "town" of Chitina where we accessed the road into-and-out-of McCarthy, then up to Tok where we found the BEST fudge, and back out to Canada.</p><p>This route only covers a corner of Alaska because most of this vast state is inaccessible by roads. One of the things I loved about it is the lack of crowds and traffic. Just lots and lots of space. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yQ87qo-Y3d0gmNDXNCpToD6coU8EswoWO4EjfINJKpEiz4utwF3IG5gIXCshCIBMCh45D6bWUvA4nE0QwCJdK1oQPbf6B8hE4QPmkUi_OfjgdKTA5C_UoHzSrdFDL7VBK0LfcJH0bHvOhHMW-WkoqA5kfu3XP2YEF3O0Xre2-hBJGj0wOTRP1VknLQ/s1393/26DF91DA-790A-49D6-AF1D-BA1F92F56851.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1393" data-original-width="1242" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2yQ87qo-Y3d0gmNDXNCpToD6coU8EswoWO4EjfINJKpEiz4utwF3IG5gIXCshCIBMCh45D6bWUvA4nE0QwCJdK1oQPbf6B8hE4QPmkUi_OfjgdKTA5C_UoHzSrdFDL7VBK0LfcJH0bHvOhHMW-WkoqA5kfu3XP2YEF3O0Xre2-hBJGj0wOTRP1VknLQ/s320/26DF91DA-790A-49D6-AF1D-BA1F92F56851.jpeg" width="285" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The yellow line roughly shows our route.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>We really liked Fairbanks because of its history and maybe because it was mostly sunny, with a daily outburst of afternoon rain that quickly dried up again. Plus it literally sits right next to The North Pole (a small town with a very large gift shop) where you-know-who lives. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUm0Hoe4FbpE_KV2JuRAiBpNXOh2L8ytZMndGySWS_ZiXHpRWzxTwKwiq_JKzEv8CJAcYImYLbeQ2J2WEmis8Rr_rBFUsO3h2RDbHyK1_dALEIrmsiaDcMl4C_7zACZMFUC9XWeSB2s-7R7YQ1q7fNvREIcLpQY8mJA4s5pFvNUln1Q_KrVHykjajuw/s2048/97331AFF-6460-47B4-9CA2-C84FBCC428F2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUm0Hoe4FbpE_KV2JuRAiBpNXOh2L8ytZMndGySWS_ZiXHpRWzxTwKwiq_JKzEv8CJAcYImYLbeQ2J2WEmis8Rr_rBFUsO3h2RDbHyK1_dALEIrmsiaDcMl4C_7zACZMFUC9XWeSB2s-7R7YQ1q7fNvREIcLpQY8mJA4s5pFvNUln1Q_KrVHykjajuw/s320/97331AFF-6460-47B4-9CA2-C84FBCC428F2.jpeg" width="240" /> </a></p><p>Only 20 - 30 percent of visitors to Denali Park get to see the highest mountain in North America (formerly named McKinnley) because it's usually encased in clouds. But we were lucky. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDIRSR6trFf52dzzdQ6TqfnE2OxC1XPZzJponPeb88Is41JEwqUubeYKWGNRHtbBWVXi_CbZebYVqfnPfGFisBLnuGf6e4g_Htwy7IRsS69Wpdw0xWfYBCCFylvtXww2U4kcD_bl3pP-2K6e-ifXQmVwKK079FIaL7iDyVrb6py6XI00jgHvGlGHwMQ/s5184/DFA068A7-FA13-4009-9012-B4A94D5F8EC4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDIRSR6trFf52dzzdQ6TqfnE2OxC1XPZzJponPeb88Is41JEwqUubeYKWGNRHtbBWVXi_CbZebYVqfnPfGFisBLnuGf6e4g_Htwy7IRsS69Wpdw0xWfYBCCFylvtXww2U4kcD_bl3pP-2K6e-ifXQmVwKK079FIaL7iDyVrb6py6XI00jgHvGlGHwMQ/w640-h424/DFA068A7-FA13-4009-9012-B4A94D5F8EC4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denali. 20,310 ft tall. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>The next two weeks we spent on the Kenai Peninsula where it rained and drizzled and Husband didn't get to do some boat excursions he'd hoped for. The clouds hovered low on the mountains, obscuring too many views. We spent a night on the Homer Spit (a narrow strip of land that juts out in the bay) and one night in cute little Seward. It was, we heard, one of the rainiest Augusts in recent history. </p><p>"You should've been here in July!" the locals would say. "The weather was great!" < <i>Sigh ></i></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgi1306FKKc5DR957gqLf2YtMDnMwwV0jxdocpgqLSg7Umc87FMyM42EouHCd2AV-5O3hRFlNf_m-eI0Y5R1Y65vvwuphhqQcPuy898dE7dB0K7-RF5hXbe0_-8cs5JEcy4IqANJ_0-NpqeRCPhuKlsljrRy-YtetguzDpGKcZDc6O56HkNqNBKyDMA/s2208/9BECD0EF-68A9-470F-BDF5-13984C2ABA58.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="2208" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgi1306FKKc5DR957gqLf2YtMDnMwwV0jxdocpgqLSg7Umc87FMyM42EouHCd2AV-5O3hRFlNf_m-eI0Y5R1Y65vvwuphhqQcPuy898dE7dB0K7-RF5hXbe0_-8cs5JEcy4IqANJ_0-NpqeRCPhuKlsljrRy-YtetguzDpGKcZDc6O56HkNqNBKyDMA/w640-h360/9BECD0EF-68A9-470F-BDF5-13984C2ABA58.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shops along the Homer Spit. **</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>While in Homer, we took a ferry (the only way to get there) over to the isolated town of Seldovia, which (I suspect) is where Popeye once lived. Colorful to say the least.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB3q5foHyNHHvq0FYwEn_4-4GPogag_hFqAGsF7fiUfGGOM-rOEFVD32mK2pp6DJKNhHES4lxkTdJT62orDyqQKv2Qkfm877ah6aLHAigwdVOMQah2sphdl71tOtsUUZPAT6Ynl3JJYUt8V4c_kMO4Uq7MUxDMZp157Sm5cToplfrDbxNT5QfZmg1Zg/s4032/B74CC13F-3230-4DB9-8863-62E4C5E0168C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyB3q5foHyNHHvq0FYwEn_4-4GPogag_hFqAGsF7fiUfGGOM-rOEFVD32mK2pp6DJKNhHES4lxkTdJT62orDyqQKv2Qkfm877ah6aLHAigwdVOMQah2sphdl71tOtsUUZPAT6Ynl3JJYUt8V4c_kMO4Uq7MUxDMZp157Sm5cToplfrDbxNT5QfZmg1Zg/w640-h480/B74CC13F-3230-4DB9-8863-62E4C5E0168C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Seldovia grocery store.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKfcIWAybBdSRbSAb3dtIFTu5Rx0s9yqXblZMyAR9HLBWlM4JuJSmspSetTJrtcbGB4ueqZf2xQRfSxhO3i6TfNy2YDElapxaiqHeEN8YwXhmouS8kUbqp-iR8ndmW-Dpo7onf2xrTz6izvFNH-c31K2DYuftd4L4PiRhYwJiH5bnDUo-ToDMu3-dRw/s4032/B045E15E-9997-4A5C-AD94-C63518EF939C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqKfcIWAybBdSRbSAb3dtIFTu5Rx0s9yqXblZMyAR9HLBWlM4JuJSmspSetTJrtcbGB4ueqZf2xQRfSxhO3i6TfNy2YDElapxaiqHeEN8YwXhmouS8kUbqp-iR8ndmW-Dpo7onf2xrTz6izvFNH-c31K2DYuftd4L4PiRhYwJiH5bnDUo-ToDMu3-dRw/w640-h480/B045E15E-9997-4A5C-AD94-C63518EF939C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another house going in ... and waiting for the tide to return. (It rises a good 20 ft or so.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8T7zMY5hE_vuEHTJz02ZNkemkN0GJH7mbGKdFRUJHJjp-dwVAFM_WNnIDbNqN_uTBW8qjAUy_kUTimRduBglHR7_JYpDGr28OnEHGfy-8eGw5l-Mp_DO939-A95yKRZtyYlUIusPtsiFXOVh7pBPZ0DuOk39TYB9H8dAETkaD24GZYmeTQk4fkPWXA/s4032/7F565E8D-0144-4B19-9FF4-CA26E84B5E9B.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8T7zMY5hE_vuEHTJz02ZNkemkN0GJH7mbGKdFRUJHJjp-dwVAFM_WNnIDbNqN_uTBW8qjAUy_kUTimRduBglHR7_JYpDGr28OnEHGfy-8eGw5l-Mp_DO939-A95yKRZtyYlUIusPtsiFXOVh7pBPZ0DuOk39TYB9H8dAETkaD24GZYmeTQk4fkPWXA/w300-h400/7F565E8D-0144-4B19-9FF4-CA26E84B5E9B.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saw this little boot garden on the historic Seldovia boardwalk.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>Husband had success fishing. He’d be outside in the rain, standing in a nearby river, while I remained in our warm van baking muffins and listening to an audio book. This arrangement suited both of us nicely. But unfortunately he broke his rod because it wasn't strong enough for all the salmon that kept leaping onto his hook. (He was trying for trout.) One of those salmons fed us for three meals.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPLuuacSFSzNEc-Jojv_WV04Q1AkglReeZkfS4eEKNWs2Rln7O9cY4UYDsLA6vQ9Ba6PaPIUVm2lckBWUXx47UEAZvznb6i3TI7AimEFJNmq8DnF2ljVNLITVQ0nFD-miT5QfaGPrBZfiwA6ANq4NXCjWpF6qf0aoD--XlYQ8ks9oeJvSVnqk_NiUjg/s4032/F2DBF808-5C3B-4C77-9984-D30FDA1DD680.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPLuuacSFSzNEc-Jojv_WV04Q1AkglReeZkfS4eEKNWs2Rln7O9cY4UYDsLA6vQ9Ba6PaPIUVm2lckBWUXx47UEAZvznb6i3TI7AimEFJNmq8DnF2ljVNLITVQ0nFD-miT5QfaGPrBZfiwA6ANq4NXCjWpF6qf0aoD--XlYQ8ks9oeJvSVnqk_NiUjg/w360-h640/F2DBF808-5C3B-4C77-9984-D30FDA1DD680.jpeg" width="360" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>One of the highlights was our trip to the ghost town of McCarthy and the old abandoned Kennicott copper mine, named after a nearby glacier .... or visa versa? It all lies within the massive (and largely unheard of) Wrangell St, Elias National Park and Preserve. This required leaving civilization behind and driving 60 miles (each way) on a bumpy, rutted road and across this old bridge that, because of my research, had me very concerned. It turned out to be best part of the road because it was SMOOTH. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1FMxJRiEw9K9IOdQ6fOVdZqO7DqVx6QuPXMcWdwTqOpJLSo3_ibypECL0MbKcu2YdPYt5-4Jeki1cATt5KNXa8eBMn74JeHLPzT_acWYSGETOW0pDTVzTE4YZNgpya9XeACFa5Y_FkEsVBCQyIHIfU884-f-rZpMU3O4Vme-GNPOap9e2ImYglDNOA/s5472/F6F5A675-BFE2-4A01-8B10-DF786EE1166C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1FMxJRiEw9K9IOdQ6fOVdZqO7DqVx6QuPXMcWdwTqOpJLSo3_ibypECL0MbKcu2YdPYt5-4Jeki1cATt5KNXa8eBMn74JeHLPzT_acWYSGETOW0pDTVzTE4YZNgpya9XeACFa5Y_FkEsVBCQyIHIfU884-f-rZpMU3O4Vme-GNPOap9e2ImYglDNOA/w640-h424/F6F5A675-BFE2-4A01-8B10-DF786EE1166C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">238 ft high, 525 ft long. Built in 1910. Known as the "biggest thrill on the road to McCarthy".</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20gV3oXDq4R7XTjiamu36o0mILtadY6OgnhUVXiZofseBYSSyFv7QtjWKVmNnYLKEVi5kDncJlS83k7z6HyRhx74l6MtZzc5ppgY0bsgDCxRhCQNyBV4lpIO4-CE5beIKeShRbDe382qbRYPr_4y4Kl1g8M0icCGogqoP6JoEsNXytEwawlALV5J4zQ/s4032/5171C6DA-77E8-4474-8CD9-F56A1ECBEF6C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20gV3oXDq4R7XTjiamu36o0mILtadY6OgnhUVXiZofseBYSSyFv7QtjWKVmNnYLKEVi5kDncJlS83k7z6HyRhx74l6MtZzc5ppgY0bsgDCxRhCQNyBV4lpIO4-CE5beIKeShRbDe382qbRYPr_4y4Kl1g8M0icCGogqoP6JoEsNXytEwawlALV5J4zQ/w480-h640/5171C6DA-77E8-4474-8CD9-F56A1ECBEF6C.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wooden surface. Saw that on a lot of bridges in Alaska.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The road ends at "base camp" where there's a campground and a footbridge crossing the Kennicott River. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="2019 Alaska Trip - Day 58 - Chitina To McCarthy & Root Glacier Hike, McCarthy, Alaska - RV-Dreams Journal" class="n3VNCb KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" height="427" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://photos.smugmug.com/Howard-Lindas-Full-Timing-RV/Places-We-Have-Visited-2019/2019-Alaska-Canada/Day-58-Chitina-To-McCarthy-Root-Glacier-Hike/i-bJxpfmK/0/0e273f0a/S/DSC_0903-S.jpg" style="height: 267px; margin: 0px auto; width: 400px;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi3lvRUtiKgpVKYNb5Zj3D4fKmHpa2SgXIBTPJZ4AqRm_u0_UMdpJsxG74pwfYByB9nUj5Xjb2gb41HSGBYbsS3Jvd5mDyYIK4iSunoT7kEjVp2Xy4M0l5G7tM3EsK9iHc1TkJ4SN47-9U1nW5_iIrW5SqaqK-4xNCbO5FUpzqIoJCLvNA2e80rJuazQ/s5184/121C5583-82E3-4644-BFC3-A378174BB986.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi3lvRUtiKgpVKYNb5Zj3D4fKmHpa2SgXIBTPJZ4AqRm_u0_UMdpJsxG74pwfYByB9nUj5Xjb2gb41HSGBYbsS3Jvd5mDyYIK4iSunoT7kEjVp2Xy4M0l5G7tM3EsK9iHc1TkJ4SN47-9U1nW5_iIrW5SqaqK-4xNCbO5FUpzqIoJCLvNA2e80rJuazQ/w640-h424/121C5583-82E3-4644-BFC3-A378174BB986.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visible from that footbridge. <i>See what I mean???</i><br />(Kennicott Glacier)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>You leave your vehicle licking its wounds at Basecamp, cross the footbridge, and either walk the half-mile or catch the rattly free shuttle van to McCarthy. Then another five miles up an even bumpier road to the old mine. We read that (during its years of operation) booze was not allowed at Kennicott (which was a self-contained community) so nearby McCarthy sprang to life. It had all the accoutrements one would expect to find in a remote mining town, meant to rid the men of their pesky paychecks. Today about half the McCarthy buildings are empty and returning to Mother Earth, but there is still a small working hotel, a cafe or two, and a small store that sold delicious ice cream. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmoHL2c_ju_o6qubDasOHPs7KshV7LmHHlEObINWaKnJMQCBTaloZzQfQk6ayBVjMw6ascyXlmd19JeF8FxqoghvDavcLHud7iGZDkzaTL_wWdpM1UCCb45sQWPj2uMYK4fC2KbxnexCoJi7niyzhZFx4Lns1jUC75BJ3kSE6WBz1gfb4repnP0gRwUA/s2208/EF6D7542-6F23-4787-9DB7-D44D79CAD4D1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="2208" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmoHL2c_ju_o6qubDasOHPs7KshV7LmHHlEObINWaKnJMQCBTaloZzQfQk6ayBVjMw6ascyXlmd19JeF8FxqoghvDavcLHud7iGZDkzaTL_wWdpM1UCCb45sQWPj2uMYK4fC2KbxnexCoJi7niyzhZFx4Lns1jUC75BJ3kSE6WBz1gfb4repnP0gRwUA/w640-h358/EF6D7542-6F23-4787-9DB7-D44D79CAD4D1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McCarthy **</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Suprisingly, this is a popular tourist spot. Prior to our trip, we bought good tires, a small compressor, and a tire repair kit with this area in mind. Fortunately we had no trouble, but were able to help Rachel, a lovely young women traveling ALONE in her older self-built van, who had ventured out there on not-great tires and got a flat. (Yikes. Did I mention there were no services within about 100 miles??) </p><p>In addition to a lot of dogs, we noticed a number of college-age-looking people in McCarthy, so they must come to spend their summers working in this very unique setting. The entire area, including the road, closes down during the long winters.</p><p>I heard the state strives to preserve the Kennicott mine in a "state of suspended decay" and it is a fascinating step back into the early-to-mid 1900's. There was a one-room school, a post office, an old-style store and a few other conveniences to serve the workers and their families until when the copper finally ran out. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntc-LI9qe23W-d_zPJrbRQrRGJEQY0vlX3uXzwkmKQuW8bs6ZvdTbVkd2v9BhujTOvTVaPr5-Sf98EFrZYSrjRvOu4jaPvOrm_-6nE6Gl5rIYID1_ukSPPg7DsxnTwTvnY1iqoPoeFkvCRlSGSjuYTef6NNM4jvpxtqeOSrPAGoKT4lrCyuhcfIhYow/s5184/D2E3759C-874B-4E35-AD48-19DE42E1C8FA.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntc-LI9qe23W-d_zPJrbRQrRGJEQY0vlX3uXzwkmKQuW8bs6ZvdTbVkd2v9BhujTOvTVaPr5-Sf98EFrZYSrjRvOu4jaPvOrm_-6nE6Gl5rIYID1_ukSPPg7DsxnTwTvnY1iqoPoeFkvCRlSGSjuYTef6NNM4jvpxtqeOSrPAGoKT4lrCyuhcfIhYow/w640-h424/D2E3759C-874B-4E35-AD48-19DE42E1C8FA.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few of the buildings have been restored for display. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDXgEv_psnXU6oIeNz24CSAvFubBIICxrbOTxYC3-k_aJk89HNUL_A_3oi3k222y2LyEEcfZOgl8EACK1RldsuRkDrcCwHSO_PjompDn1rtCIyoFX0E7AEFz6Nh1HWNjaTyWK8drz-Rb55x76QOBuklPcgaCJGCaPVOphHofLkA6mwgK0A3W1qgQZeA/s4032/36CB91AB-FE86-43E9-ADE7-56F92AB7CD27.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDXgEv_psnXU6oIeNz24CSAvFubBIICxrbOTxYC3-k_aJk89HNUL_A_3oi3k222y2LyEEcfZOgl8EACK1RldsuRkDrcCwHSO_PjompDn1rtCIyoFX0E7AEFz6Nh1HWNjaTyWK8drz-Rb55x76QOBuklPcgaCJGCaPVOphHofLkA6mwgK0A3W1qgQZeA/w640-h480/36CB91AB-FE86-43E9-ADE7-56F92AB7CD27.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The products in the store were true to the period.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaKO1OZl25ccNgW-TpeWqZ_jleqpr5ANtERm7aypUbMdkB9tyaSPvgR7C3VNRSL_ke-Xe3WJNHJWi6G440nHvWTHZZkJNnsnuyMtrTGA5GJAAdJJSqo_Pg5WLJE4eBReUt-AMe7UzviZ-7fHuXiTscGsOp2zwp_NiyxkPaXYyPtfOz7fvCHspAfcx7Q/s5184/BAFBDD5C-26EB-4A0E-A2DE-13F2BC838F1D.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipaKO1OZl25ccNgW-TpeWqZ_jleqpr5ANtERm7aypUbMdkB9tyaSPvgR7C3VNRSL_ke-Xe3WJNHJWi6G440nHvWTHZZkJNnsnuyMtrTGA5GJAAdJJSqo_Pg5WLJE4eBReUt-AMe7UzviZ-7fHuXiTscGsOp2zwp_NiyxkPaXYyPtfOz7fvCHspAfcx7Q/w640-h424/BAFBDD5C-26EB-4A0E-A2DE-13F2BC838F1D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't you just love the creepiness?</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>On our return trip towards home, we diverted down the Cassiar Hwy in BC to visit the extremely humble "town" of Hyder (population 60), which sits just inside and at the bottom of the Alaska panhandle. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69a-qJsf3mbfUrRqCGdNlIEpAEnZ4tZTB-98VYUrHR3-gofmWxPb6WujsfZ9IhS5vPMTw1JPOinJiSMLByU02ZuQDijLUTKKAgjUVN-Ofnugy-NgYWySu5YlEadd40o1_U77lRUTKSn5pk2pjbk9VQCkgsIwzA22xzKitN0Q8piYS-PmJxhFvkj6YQA/s2208/3CB9976A-BC30-4422-AAF8-7D599A439E18.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="2208" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg69a-qJsf3mbfUrRqCGdNlIEpAEnZ4tZTB-98VYUrHR3-gofmWxPb6WujsfZ9IhS5vPMTw1JPOinJiSMLByU02ZuQDijLUTKKAgjUVN-Ofnugy-NgYWySu5YlEadd40o1_U77lRUTKSn5pk2pjbk9VQCkgsIwzA22xzKitN0Q8piYS-PmJxhFvkj6YQA/w640-h360/3CB9976A-BC30-4422-AAF8-7D599A439E18.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>There are two reasons to go to Hyder: </p><p>1. To see the bears. There is a shallow river where thousands of salmon go to spawn and die, and the bears come to help them die a little sooner. There are raised wooded walkways where people can safely watch it all up close. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGvxqgcLzgjERT4KgWKahg9x1FOjs4yJgMvoHNs7pC3YKwLXp6qWmc1H44Cbhsi2MjZHFC3cspq1znv4_IxUiUVi-0YHvgt4UWklvpBUmUXsPoneGSa4HH1D09RO7xJrZcqD79tWy0AiaMAC_0glBGWbdbCIGZFvuc2Lfk0afe1uoMNlwUkWd78_zfw/s4032/8C129D3E-4E36-41FC-B506-906F31D1DCC6.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGvxqgcLzgjERT4KgWKahg9x1FOjs4yJgMvoHNs7pC3YKwLXp6qWmc1H44Cbhsi2MjZHFC3cspq1znv4_IxUiUVi-0YHvgt4UWklvpBUmUXsPoneGSa4HH1D09RO7xJrZcqD79tWy0AiaMAC_0glBGWbdbCIGZFvuc2Lfk0afe1uoMNlwUkWd78_zfw/w300-h400/8C129D3E-4E36-41FC-B506-906F31D1DCC6.heic" width="300" /></a></div><p>We watched one young grizzly terrorizing the fish for several hours. Please know ...... humans who hunt or fish are MUCH more humane than any bear ever was. This guy would pull one out of the water, then toss the traumatized fish aside and go for another and another, until he found one that was full of eggs. Then he'd eat it. There were dead fish everywhere. I couldn't help feeling sorry for them.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz8SeUOgREFmffmRQiS97YoH9R6VZ2xr73z8oVr6cFszfWfiFBEvqDPKXOKlW2HVEOTf3e8xN9txirNIcOVpg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88ZDKqHXuT6l-kaXwalJzb0Hgw1qu3LWeluzN8pu3do8yeRX_G7mU6l-pptBSvnB2TRE-sIIGRcugjhLq8NQCBnjkrI3o8Sc16_BH20qH9F65DV1wHG8Ebtxf2j1A0AIHnHZdXvY42KAHdZxgsZtK49fUHjaWaTceW5MRV7EZPy3mp6LOxnCoQTDjww/s5472/12FA12C8-467D-4C9E-A1C0-579074B982C2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg88ZDKqHXuT6l-kaXwalJzb0Hgw1qu3LWeluzN8pu3do8yeRX_G7mU6l-pptBSvnB2TRE-sIIGRcugjhLq8NQCBnjkrI3o8Sc16_BH20qH9F65DV1wHG8Ebtxf2j1A0AIHnHZdXvY42KAHdZxgsZtK49fUHjaWaTceW5MRV7EZPy3mp6LOxnCoQTDjww/w640-h424/12FA12C8-467D-4C9E-A1C0-579074B982C2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The perpetrator. (It helps to have a zoom lens and a husband who knows how to use it.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>And 2. To see the glacier. Immediately on the far end of Hyder, we embarked on a narrow 20 mile long goat path (the McCarthy road was <i>nothing</i> in comparison) up and along the side of a steep mountain. Then, over an hour later, we emerged at the mountain tops and the most magnificent glacier we have ever seen. It's called the Salmon Glacier and is one of the largest glaciers on the continent. Think of the first time you stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon. This is a similar experience. </p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZmaOoTFlXQVM7UKvRL0K5sWUHBcR-2hKB38cK65WE_kuPpjdrIcwLk811gN6YAmLk1kx9KEmeV2uPjYT1xNCs52SxMTr8B-GlzpSvydzHRqBhYo08eCWvfXlMijmmnP_bcyNoiIjNqa0Glt0pj8A-mXIzTqmutfujta8DBS4VddLQOTHwhqGDzDmqw/s5376/15DFB112-EADD-4D34-B8F9-038AD2E07278.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2565" data-original-width="5376" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZmaOoTFlXQVM7UKvRL0K5sWUHBcR-2hKB38cK65WE_kuPpjdrIcwLk811gN6YAmLk1kx9KEmeV2uPjYT1xNCs52SxMTr8B-GlzpSvydzHRqBhYo08eCWvfXlMijmmnP_bcyNoiIjNqa0Glt0pj8A-mXIzTqmutfujta8DBS4VddLQOTHwhqGDzDmqw/w640-h304/15DFB112-EADD-4D34-B8F9-038AD2E07278.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband "stitched" together four photos to capture the immensity of the glacier. This picture is headed for a wall in our house.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCf-5gC9xt-aOuGbIImWeLYPDOY7vP1GC4QYtQR_DokJjpCup3VLvY0urn5y-yll4btE3nrghX3i-sWcEs6CD3a4NGAmDBGP70lb9LlaqvUJQ4jDc5dIsfkJJ5ixLfS1mjikeNaPPVYUb77xkS63OP3EYuRvGfrI18wAqyX23pueaUQr_GJq9ziIAPQ/s4032/904588C3-2803-4ED6-A231-8E4B8250D30F_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYCf-5gC9xt-aOuGbIImWeLYPDOY7vP1GC4QYtQR_DokJjpCup3VLvY0urn5y-yll4btE3nrghX3i-sWcEs6CD3a4NGAmDBGP70lb9LlaqvUJQ4jDc5dIsfkJJ5ixLfS1mjikeNaPPVYUb77xkS63OP3EYuRvGfrI18wAqyX23pueaUQr_GJq9ziIAPQ/w640-h480/904588C3-2803-4ED6-A231-8E4B8250D30F_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is from my phone. I wanted to add it for a bit of scale .... Look for someone in the picture. (I happen to know him personally.)</td></tr></tbody></table><p> We had made the very fortunate decision NOT to wait and come up the next morning because we got these pictures in the beautiful sunset. Our plan was to spend the night up there and get more pictures at sunrise. However, during the night it clouded over and rained, and we woke up to thick fog and one totally missing glacier. It was as if it had been erased! Several people drove up that morning and got to see <i>nothing</i> ...... including one couple from Germany who will probably never go to Hyder again, much less up that road to the glacier. This glacier was indeed the pinnacle (no pun intended) of our trip. If you're ever in the area it's a must ..... just not on an overcast day.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhv1HPV1IvZWnA1jT484MHicLqWEyHSgnN8y5UkKy_DywufqodVgvcPFAUeZgEDBgH5fKeY0dVrsC5xLEUD5IqsO1Gi6W275Yo10EkovSjUzP3Bv8K8i7bSZHNQLghIjfo-goVuBn1aYNIFBlmoEB3_dFFrSm87mIy8-QDIgznIk8UNrvLTGEcOPi9Xw/s4032/2C23A99C-1140-4D4F-8C07-452B1E683F86_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhv1HPV1IvZWnA1jT484MHicLqWEyHSgnN8y5UkKy_DywufqodVgvcPFAUeZgEDBgH5fKeY0dVrsC5xLEUD5IqsO1Gi6W275Yo10EkovSjUzP3Bv8K8i7bSZHNQLghIjfo-goVuBn1aYNIFBlmoEB3_dFFrSm87mIy8-QDIgznIk8UNrvLTGEcOPi9Xw/w400-h300/2C23A99C-1140-4D4F-8C07-452B1E683F86_1_201_a.heic" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parked high up at the viewpoint for the night. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>Further on our return trip, we drove through the mountains of the famous Whistler ski resort. Oh Canada! Thou art glorious! Then down towards Vancouver, BC, ...... breathtaking! </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoRf3zjwtpg0vioKKVh2Rzu9XyARgSzG6LI8_LIpGcU424Tvjj2ZumilogpTyUHL5__JC8u0mCWNSUpO0GbeIAvuTSk9s22OKNra3dexyD3Wi1CasxVHlmgF-ZbSYdl2za722VZJ7pMcMps1kfh5oTQUU2jshO8Z0pw6tgxhmFEb87FngtzloKbDnqA/s2208/0848E063-3C99-44AF-A621-990E3E7589A5.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="2208" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAoRf3zjwtpg0vioKKVh2Rzu9XyARgSzG6LI8_LIpGcU424Tvjj2ZumilogpTyUHL5__JC8u0mCWNSUpO0GbeIAvuTSk9s22OKNra3dexyD3Wi1CasxVHlmgF-ZbSYdl2za722VZJ7pMcMps1kfh5oTQUU2jshO8Z0pw6tgxhmFEb87FngtzloKbDnqA/w640-h360/0848E063-3C99-44AF-A621-990E3E7589A5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p>We crossed the US border into Blaine, WA, and finally had some REAL INTERNET again. Here's the deal on that ..... Alaska's cell service is phenomenal. (We use Verizon.) Even in McCarthy, we could stream videos. However, Canada was a different story. They had service, but would only dole out tiny snippets to us non-citizens-who-had-neglected-to-research-sim-cards. Each day we'd get what seemed like about five minutes of fast internet and then we were throttled till the next day when we were allotted another few minutes. This forced us to seek out WIFI whenever possible. </p><p>A few other things we learned on this trip:</p><p>Canadian money is so pretty! But they use a lot of dollar coins, so don't confuse those with quarters. And unless you <i>want</i> to appear as dumb as I was, note that the coins are clearly marked and don't keep asking patient Canadians how their money works.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimIx09H10-ZeNFncxR-aqn3KEyXne4N_MQn1MwEQd91CWlR4rtSBGa7t_5GneSdTD2XT6vOM5Y5cTnUwaD5_mILpO1maOnIqfhJXc6nHbwq3OOSXGTJCF5VG_FUGn3_6j7KkKcFjFBs_axBBEO_PUM0jaZ68iyaHpRL5gukqmjhJ8w4sEK3q3B_f7f_Q/s1401/8AE306C8-4A52-48B6-B2E3-31B16B3E8D66_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1401" data-original-width="1202" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimIx09H10-ZeNFncxR-aqn3KEyXne4N_MQn1MwEQd91CWlR4rtSBGa7t_5GneSdTD2XT6vOM5Y5cTnUwaD5_mILpO1maOnIqfhJXc6nHbwq3OOSXGTJCF5VG_FUGn3_6j7KkKcFjFBs_axBBEO_PUM0jaZ68iyaHpRL5gukqmjhJ8w4sEK3q3B_f7f_Q/w344-h400/8AE306C8-4A52-48B6-B2E3-31B16B3E8D66_1_201_a.jpeg" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The US, on the other hand, has MUCH more interesting license plates. </p><p>Canada is serious about not littering. Even on the most remote roads nowhere near <i>anything</i>, there are frequent pullouts with bear-proof trash cans provided. The trash collectors must put in LOTS of miles.</p><p>Do NOT EVEN THINK about bringing a weapon into Canada, including even a small pepper sprayer. But you're totally okay packing a massive can of bear spray across the border, as long as it's clearly labeled. </p><p>Yours Truly has learned how to convert kilometers into miles. </p><p>Canadians (and Alaskans) are MY PEOPLE because they think 90 degrees fahrenheit is TOO hot. Which it is.</p><p>The long hours of daylight were no problem. Except we kept forgetting to eat dinner until much too late.</p><p>The reason there's a drought in the lower portion of our country is because the WATER IS ALL UP NORTH! My goodness, there is water everywhere up there!</p><p>The people of Alaska have a kind of rugged, low-maintenance vibe. And when you leave the city, you'll only see two kinds of footwear .... sturdy hiking shoes or knee-high rubber "mucking" boots. These people can't be bothered with flip-flops.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0nxThwYFgkF9tXqWWwzuzSEH5gKvPf-NqHY-6Siy3z2Ys3q7risJZZqihdUqNYQoPkCReC3DG8ZmAI47Cfm70mtdDDEkcM6PPAUU6f5hDkvOt4Rwfg53gXmQcUJIYatzOb-jdAsCdkbCwY-NTlhMMT4p9wN2zpwpH8TzZHxH1mqB6FwM1UYKy1aoZg/s1539/C884EB41-4843-42F3-9553-E74604F9502A_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1539" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0nxThwYFgkF9tXqWWwzuzSEH5gKvPf-NqHY-6Siy3z2Ys3q7risJZZqihdUqNYQoPkCReC3DG8ZmAI47Cfm70mtdDDEkcM6PPAUU6f5hDkvOt4Rwfg53gXmQcUJIYatzOb-jdAsCdkbCwY-NTlhMMT4p9wN2zpwpH8TzZHxH1mqB6FwM1UYKy1aoZg/w400-h263/C884EB41-4843-42F3-9553-E74604F9502A_1_201_a.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">**</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The mosquitos were mostly in Canada. Not so much in Alaska ..... at least during August/September.</p><p>A few more random pictures:</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3FktcPSDMSPNSfuzxkXEilqjy088GYEeY9VK_YTRmktMuiVD0Ss4Xyzvra-bDT4O31TmR3mnUkMscGnTnlu5wY3Xi_dv-E2Z2HewR1R6Qtnf2S3kc5KA4JyvXiF5B1x_P3C6Y4sJsSGhGT-K4gRHMCor32Pm-l6t9LUr04Bm-rlQrvrowUPqUox4FA/s4032/6E7EE2CD-18F4-411B-8D88-94878E0A0E85.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3FktcPSDMSPNSfuzxkXEilqjy088GYEeY9VK_YTRmktMuiVD0Ss4Xyzvra-bDT4O31TmR3mnUkMscGnTnlu5wY3Xi_dv-E2Z2HewR1R6Qtnf2S3kc5KA4JyvXiF5B1x_P3C6Y4sJsSGhGT-K4gRHMCor32Pm-l6t9LUr04Bm-rlQrvrowUPqUox4FA/w640-h480/6E7EE2CD-18F4-411B-8D88-94878E0A0E85.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the ferry from Whittier to Valdez. Gray was the theme of the day.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlWS_FlTWPO5lsI77odq-BGEITGORFXSllIijjkRZfv2XOdgBtm0pGluo5w3nj5jgBP_A-sqy3Qgm4qhwI0JvtEBa4hZ2EC5K7GmBW1g0sgoJpsA6M8ycUAod3O4LKsmt95njPgdqc9kds4MfEzWyDmeOTOGDyoNA4RF3h5eFH2BQGGdcTynKwu48Yg/s4032/982D7770-3AB9-4D69-A8B7-6AF870058A0D.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGlWS_FlTWPO5lsI77odq-BGEITGORFXSllIijjkRZfv2XOdgBtm0pGluo5w3nj5jgBP_A-sqy3Qgm4qhwI0JvtEBa4hZ2EC5K7GmBW1g0sgoJpsA6M8ycUAod3O4LKsmt95njPgdqc9kds4MfEzWyDmeOTOGDyoNA4RF3h5eFH2BQGGdcTynKwu48Yg/w640-h480/982D7770-3AB9-4D69-A8B7-6AF870058A0D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From one of our overnight spots, overlooking Homer and the Spit. The most vivid rainbow I can remember.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0TkkTjLnW10UUuTSUpsQo_5mYZgzsP2q2X792f8mPsrVVjjSh9y-CfQ4wps6hrDJhDZE5CL8NaeE3170UhF4MBeAt772tuzNqam3fFe4qzV7rLyv-ocoL7PMRqPa4iwnXpKaek3XYTnvFiRqc9JwISULdVlcJ8shmYt_Pp9qXgwgDwvLXIiVmVo-wA/s4032/118724DA-766C-4FBF-8A62-75C986180882.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0TkkTjLnW10UUuTSUpsQo_5mYZgzsP2q2X792f8mPsrVVjjSh9y-CfQ4wps6hrDJhDZE5CL8NaeE3170UhF4MBeAt772tuzNqam3fFe4qzV7rLyv-ocoL7PMRqPa4iwnXpKaek3XYTnvFiRqc9JwISULdVlcJ8shmYt_Pp9qXgwgDwvLXIiVmVo-wA/w480-h640/118724DA-766C-4FBF-8A62-75C986180882.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We hiked about a half mile up to the famous Mendenhall Glacier. There are a series of signs showing how much it has receded. This is where it was in 2005. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(I'm straddling a puddle.)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaXdwXKwSMCIh0guX67jAhW4PAJINH7O-2rNP7jMCVLN9T0bUdAnVtChjHbj3AbjLR7Ao0ZHvLagF4NhczQeFlyip892mHblSPdNhIw4k6uxnQl93qRp2yEydhkTopjrJQ7abexU0vn5U3NCpo4Gx6euJ_t2ON_hhRa5aHD6Om-ZdKSeLkYobSaKybQ/s5472/07A5C0CC-5BA7-4C13-B012-DE87C64E9127.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaXdwXKwSMCIh0guX67jAhW4PAJINH7O-2rNP7jMCVLN9T0bUdAnVtChjHbj3AbjLR7Ao0ZHvLagF4NhczQeFlyip892mHblSPdNhIw4k6uxnQl93qRp2yEydhkTopjrJQ7abexU0vn5U3NCpo4Gx6euJ_t2ON_hhRa5aHD6Om-ZdKSeLkYobSaKybQ/w640-h424/07A5C0CC-5BA7-4C13-B012-DE87C64E9127.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We only paid to stay in established campgrounds about 20% of the time. There are so many beautiful spots that are free. Here's an example. (Our van is in the back.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSIrIZd-jDr-ur40GCzx2OU5Ar7bwQW_QOnK5k3imxrDBld4IVBbHRGd1cdadYJHluyewRYDYN3pQmlotTn2ZfPOirbaQJBSBuDEibVxW-QEa0_DNgsFSXOn0cOoLHoLMUdvQJ9hX3otFnbpwJodr9iihTD9aWLGPH47U1qOWS0_an_s07U-gpMGBcw/s4032/DF87C89A-8E85-47B8-9622-D7F68C96565E.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSIrIZd-jDr-ur40GCzx2OU5Ar7bwQW_QOnK5k3imxrDBld4IVBbHRGd1cdadYJHluyewRYDYN3pQmlotTn2ZfPOirbaQJBSBuDEibVxW-QEa0_DNgsFSXOn0cOoLHoLMUdvQJ9hX3otFnbpwJodr9iihTD9aWLGPH47U1qOWS0_an_s07U-gpMGBcw/w640-h480/DF87C89A-8E85-47B8-9622-D7F68C96565E.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the Our Lady of the Snows Catholic Church which kindly shares the use of their chapel with a tiny group from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One meets Sunday mornings and the other in the evenings. It is about 40 miles out of Anchorage, in the remote town of Girdwood ..... difficult to find w/o a GPS. We happened to attend services there one Sunday, and is where we experienced a small miracle. Ask me about it sometime.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1857, for a mere 7.2 million. Russia didn't want to sell it to Canada, because they were concerned about Britain's power at that time. It was made a state in 1959, <i>during my lifetime.</i> (About the same time as Hawaii.) I was very young and completely oblivious. The purchase of Alaska was unpopular for several decades until 1897 when gold was discovered ..... and later the vast oil fields. </p><p>Well done, Andrew Johnson administration. Well done.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-87941275096139675482022-06-06T12:17:00.026-07:002022-06-06T13:11:13.831-07:00A BIG day<p><br /></p><p>In the spring of 2013, Husband and I flew to Massachusetts, to visit something called Factory Five, where they manufacture and sell replica race car kits. Husband was already on the waiting list for a model called the 818. </p><p>But then, he saw .....</p><p><img alt="" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-25563" height="272" loading="lazy" sizes="(max-width: 1941px) 100vw, 1941px" src="https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002.jpg" srcset="https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002.jpg 1941w, https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002-300x127.jpg 300w, https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002-768x325.jpg 768w, https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002-24x10.jpg 24w, https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002-36x15.jpg 36w, https://www.factoryfive.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/A2-CAM10002-48x20.jpg 48w" width="640" /></p><p><br /></p><p>..... their replica of a 1965 Daytona Coupe. Only six original models were built back then and it was the car that beat the Italian made Ferrari, in the 1965 FIA Manufacturers Road Racing Championship. Ferrari had won ten times in the previous 12 years and dominated the racing world. The Daytona was built by Carroll Shelby, who was subsequently hired by Ford to build the GT40, which also beat Ferrari, as portrayed in the movie, "Ford VS Ferrari". (Great movie, by the way!)</p><p>Christmas happened in July at our house when the many boxes of car parts arrived and construction began soon after. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8rWN8S2ZAlVKDXG6TDpeOC3U5Y5ExVYgyf96oXwKjPYhnjEDTHk1YKZo2wMrgz7jBFMfiN5QeSiUn6XKy544Ow0Hzp2dKBVgYA9hZhfmNjJifkQgrHJQgVkZg7WqqzT05-xTwu15iFgW2cnjo9ACLKX0BHNM2Dtk8d5s_AWuSKjfdBYHnzf__KwpUw/s2592/3957D777-FBAE-4C4B-B00A-F0632B5F8295_1_201_a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1728" data-original-width="2592" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8rWN8S2ZAlVKDXG6TDpeOC3U5Y5ExVYgyf96oXwKjPYhnjEDTHk1YKZo2wMrgz7jBFMfiN5QeSiUn6XKy544Ow0Hzp2dKBVgYA9hZhfmNjJifkQgrHJQgVkZg7WqqzT05-xTwu15iFgW2cnjo9ACLKX0BHNM2Dtk8d5s_AWuSKjfdBYHnzf__KwpUw/w640-h424/3957D777-FBAE-4C4B-B00A-F0632B5F8295_1_201_a.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The skeleton.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfWB017p87CXcChHd-MIKdY3N-2HHxpHNfTYAIJNpvDAQeOnPyUHu4IBnEshjBZtDtTKD2QdRIIdO1FFvR4c-PDDfCWsZjbsQ-lo8sqewwPJ7qzwMN3Vp0t0ShzedXXp4itujAAVm3Wv9OT4_Rv68fwbmNa82XUd1soP25mBQXt4Ljd0mFOKdYqylcQ/s1024/C1451C12-A023-492B-A7CB-C232FAA08DB2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="1024" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfWB017p87CXcChHd-MIKdY3N-2HHxpHNfTYAIJNpvDAQeOnPyUHu4IBnEshjBZtDtTKD2QdRIIdO1FFvR4c-PDDfCWsZjbsQ-lo8sqewwPJ7qzwMN3Vp0t0ShzedXXp4itujAAVm3Wv9OT4_Rv68fwbmNa82XUd1soP25mBQXt4Ljd0mFOKdYqylcQ/w640-h296/C1451C12-A023-492B-A7CB-C232FAA08DB2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NWggPWtuAV2q0eqcvYBeVKdGxPmuCa0ChwKSkaD2j5GKxiP_RmUu18on14REOAV4ZLcLf9HYRhFWqLslxKdtXoT0qtFzo1BMJCytoJYld8wD4iiuvBy-DsIEYEfR6sael6VUmNrbQnP08TuBqL7NAT4vIdUQrLKxTKW0trPZpfm-FUGY8uVmIRVthA/s640/758914A0-7C26-4E73-8FAD-D58F811A7ACF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NWggPWtuAV2q0eqcvYBeVKdGxPmuCa0ChwKSkaD2j5GKxiP_RmUu18on14REOAV4ZLcLf9HYRhFWqLslxKdtXoT0qtFzo1BMJCytoJYld8wD4iiuvBy-DsIEYEfR6sael6VUmNrbQnP08TuBqL7NAT4vIdUQrLKxTKW0trPZpfm-FUGY8uVmIRVthA/w640-h428/758914A0-7C26-4E73-8FAD-D58F811A7ACF.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisodhepSs2_btgsNYQA-SvnGVBnK8rdZfuF-VwhmGrV-__sZTTbDfl7FeeYeQVV-93rE2txqsUizyA9QerlnY_KHqeIghWcpzWyH15p3H1L3IFa00X6dvQiZFTobRi1BjEglNPhFMWwHyQi5CF2ZBFAXHXlo_uht0Siot0EJS3KL3-rFQ8dDIIrVXCxw/s4032/B6F1F1FC-D98B-477C-9756-971711C4DD0C.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisodhepSs2_btgsNYQA-SvnGVBnK8rdZfuF-VwhmGrV-__sZTTbDfl7FeeYeQVV-93rE2txqsUizyA9QerlnY_KHqeIghWcpzWyH15p3H1L3IFa00X6dvQiZFTobRi1BjEglNPhFMWwHyQi5CF2ZBFAXHXlo_uht0Siot0EJS3KL3-rFQ8dDIIrVXCxw/w640-h489/B6F1F1FC-D98B-477C-9756-971711C4DD0C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Towing it 150 miles to the new homestead.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><span style="text-align: center;"> It can be quite loud, but we live very rurally so it's not much of a problem. Once, during a test drive with the purpose of impressing our son, one of the neighbors called the sheriff. There may have also been a </span><i style="text-align: center;">tiny</i><span style="text-align: center;"> matter of excessive speed. When the sheriff showed up to check on the complaint, he thought the car was "really cool". "Just keep more to the back roads," he said. </span></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6YaPFqrR8roWjOhZt60-UEmmEUspUi6PogMKkbHyJC0qqN9NCqiu83D6fuUxeXrEt3oV7aHGVgWshpuqEjPmvt-tA1qQ_qoquXVA5Hf8whe8ccihaQsg6b_QUtyXA-1ZxRjH2x7tDaXNeHu_eNXVYU56JaEYVsAN8gUyZtFEZKyJ_6aK8xBFDbJvDA/s4032/B4A70BF7-33B9-4229-93CC-0620115DBE7D.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6YaPFqrR8roWjOhZt60-UEmmEUspUi6PogMKkbHyJC0qqN9NCqiu83D6fuUxeXrEt3oV7aHGVgWshpuqEjPmvt-tA1qQ_qoquXVA5Hf8whe8ccihaQsg6b_QUtyXA-1ZxRjH2x7tDaXNeHu_eNXVYU56JaEYVsAN8gUyZtFEZKyJ_6aK8xBFDbJvDA/w640-h480/B4A70BF7-33B9-4229-93CC-0620115DBE7D.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshly painted. The color choice was a debate among the family, but in the end, he went with the classic colors of the original. Many details left to do, but the <i>finish line</i> is in sight. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>Husband had started a blog to document the process, <span style="color: #ff00fe;">mrbradybuildsacar.blogspot.com</span>. But life ... including selling our home, storing all belongings, moving into a motorhome, traveling, building a new home and shop, renovating a camper AND building a van ..... happened. Not to mention the addition of a motorcycle and no lack of golfing, fishing, etc. etc. (The guy has hobbies.) Hence, nine years later, and a lot of work that only he can explain, Husband set his sights on a local car show in downtown Redmond, Oregon, at the end of April of this year, to be the Big Debut. </p><p>We weren't expecting that big of a deal. (At least I wasn't.)</p><p>He drove it over that morning and I showed up a little later, planning to stay only a short while. But when I got there, I couldn't leave. It was too much fun.</p><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdF76-bRMu4cKs4IhZ5biXu03CUzTmwCedOZ8fUD-AN-iGyuhOlt64JYXvcVnIEP-7MLL9i_Mu-kxUCJaeV_nHolVJwupiYClb-kq_I5xtYU4IJ9hZiuyTA-yWNehqs_EN1GUyaYr0945Qg6gilbT0tKyaVX9y1SSnv0-1chV74ANcWZTE1sar4V2VQ/s4032/DEB93C65-A895-4A29-85E7-CCCAC99961C5_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdF76-bRMu4cKs4IhZ5biXu03CUzTmwCedOZ8fUD-AN-iGyuhOlt64JYXvcVnIEP-7MLL9i_Mu-kxUCJaeV_nHolVJwupiYClb-kq_I5xtYU4IJ9hZiuyTA-yWNehqs_EN1GUyaYr0945Qg6gilbT0tKyaVX9y1SSnv0-1chV74ANcWZTE1sar4V2VQ/w640-h480/DEB93C65-A895-4A29-85E7-CCCAC99961C5_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They blocked off several streets for the show. We were in the parking lot of a church.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>I can only tell about it from my perspective and I was beyond proud. The show this year featured a record 400 cars and Husband's car was a hit. I just sat in a lawn chair and watched the swarm. Then he'd raise the hood, and they'd swarm some more. This may be a <i>bit</i> of a biased exaggeration, but there was seldom a moment when someone wasn't checking it out.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQyBl-q4_pP6dADMzr_UHqcbsT-wgYpnWYcH_1QQs5Ice0GjaYkiC8za3ErRXjs40DDc80KwmM0UicozNvQTTUONS1qBELOp8NDP3idEvBeH9FLATyfJezcHp5TocOd4BMdam0uzBoJJrSSDN3pDDOdE1-CHedIGbL5mMoNjU6WyTDOhZf0RlDo5YXA/s4032/E118CF31-0CAC-4643-BAFC-8C34AE47CCA5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQyBl-q4_pP6dADMzr_UHqcbsT-wgYpnWYcH_1QQs5Ice0GjaYkiC8za3ErRXjs40DDc80KwmM0UicozNvQTTUONS1qBELOp8NDP3idEvBeH9FLATyfJezcHp5TocOd4BMdam0uzBoJJrSSDN3pDDOdE1-CHedIGbL5mMoNjU6WyTDOhZf0RlDo5YXA/w640-h480/E118CF31-0CAC-4643-BAFC-8C34AE47CCA5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgcW8c9HrZn7rfP74Ox5aRCZzaqbqnskAdQoZbJOCoupxlMBYxpLIDBrZp_lOkKe86JQFiAfcpVGAa9shb3rXZkVmllg3w37ayTdZUu5dJxyb89sC290pq0KrogyT42nvUB7t8hbUt-sM3Dh3oN_6CcfA31aQdKAZ91KsFioia9OE6HQLZ4_xCK9AEg/s4032/BB73366B-5B60-42B3-9086-1CFE7BDFB09C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgcW8c9HrZn7rfP74Ox5aRCZzaqbqnskAdQoZbJOCoupxlMBYxpLIDBrZp_lOkKe86JQFiAfcpVGAa9shb3rXZkVmllg3w37ayTdZUu5dJxyb89sC290pq0KrogyT42nvUB7t8hbUt-sM3Dh3oN_6CcfA31aQdKAZ91KsFioia9OE6HQLZ4_xCK9AEg/w640-h480/BB73366B-5B60-42B3-9086-1CFE7BDFB09C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9efu9N3bOtA3fJBIr1uOTyizTnxTVkd89zP9TIyLKzs3KxH7EHI-WgeY90DwP4AnSHGG1pWp4xgiYVznV5SUfpcupLrZRCTRJfU74OB9F2KBkORqnxWGjYscFBitXYAHqqHf1iITLJFF-gdI8lsK2JdoemBqFFC0qEtCNPqPdqlizVxZzs3y7QXgTg/s4032/7C6317B1-6ED3-409F-A3F5-8F91D8197DAC_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9efu9N3bOtA3fJBIr1uOTyizTnxTVkd89zP9TIyLKzs3KxH7EHI-WgeY90DwP4AnSHGG1pWp4xgiYVznV5SUfpcupLrZRCTRJfU74OB9F2KBkORqnxWGjYscFBitXYAHqqHf1iITLJFF-gdI8lsK2JdoemBqFFC0qEtCNPqPdqlizVxZzs3y7QXgTg/w640-h480/7C6317B1-6ED3-409F-A3F5-8F91D8197DAC_1_201_a.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The framed photo, displayed in the back window, shows the original Daytona, including the builder, Carroll Shelby.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>One highlight of the day was when Tom, his best friend from high school, happened to be visiting the show. It was an unexpected surprise for both.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietsvBYRv4XAf1dsUUnJ_2wUKlmJBe4Jxq6UPm5DLhj1ICTpWcFV66dZcRIQjdT10naiPmkT9DHKH7Gh4VEoFZhp34nO1t-LFvabAx0ao7_AOx_eFznzaVHbMUnRfnwRA2gGOsvgAiKE19ReGR7aKwOfxyCYMGgXPOa1ty2xCftaheDEG7eH1pa2k98A/s3451/DB32C20E-2A0C-466E-BA0D-FAF0E1336CE2_1_201_a.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2659" data-original-width="3451" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietsvBYRv4XAf1dsUUnJ_2wUKlmJBe4Jxq6UPm5DLhj1ICTpWcFV66dZcRIQjdT10naiPmkT9DHKH7Gh4VEoFZhp34nO1t-LFvabAx0ao7_AOx_eFznzaVHbMUnRfnwRA2gGOsvgAiKE19ReGR7aKwOfxyCYMGgXPOa1ty2xCftaheDEG7eH1pa2k98A/w400-h309/DB32C20E-2A0C-466E-BA0D-FAF0E1336CE2_1_201_a.heic" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>This was a BIG day for Husband who finally realized his long awaited dream. Several months earlier, when he found the right guy to paint the car, Husband told him to not do TOO good of a job, because he wanted to be able to race it without agonizing over the inevitable nicks and dings. Well, that was a fail. The painter did a great job. Hence, I'm not sure how much actual racing will happen. It's just too pretty.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-71493446957152886032022-05-30T13:21:00.034-07:002022-11-12T11:24:08.102-08:00Okay, so yeah, it's been a while .... again<p>It's not that nothing is happening over here when time lapses between posts ...... it's just that sometimes the motivation level drops off. But there was this:</p><p>In April we headed to the eastern edge of our state to help Favorite(s) Daughter and S-I-L, with their remodeling job of their current new-to-them house. As sad as it is to have them move five hours away (as opposed to the previous three), it is parentally gratifying to see them in a situation better suited to their needs. And who knew how pretty this portion of our state could actually be? When you've spent your entire life only zipping through on the freeway, it never occurred to me to that there'd be any reason to ever move there. But after living in the "high desert" (see previous <a href="https://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2022/01/your-average-winter-day-in-rural-high.html"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">post</span></a>), my perspective has shifted. They definitely found *pretty*.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPhW1y_s6_7dMebFBzIQpGVyMn1shyqXtlJTMk1sMYqr-1FxhsHtN_P5hYLJOD2x-_yuKuwJLaZEtFfhQLFcoyeC8qRjfBZkJO7TzMPKqpzvHNUKeEU3W6pBT3mTuBkaL4GC391tjgK5dJyg-Lw49Wu1XSNicL-ZWrOtnYPs3Pf0Zsc1IuNxINgCwhg/s2048/131944F7-BB74-408D-86B3-1C7326ECF197.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPhW1y_s6_7dMebFBzIQpGVyMn1shyqXtlJTMk1sMYqr-1FxhsHtN_P5hYLJOD2x-_yuKuwJLaZEtFfhQLFcoyeC8qRjfBZkJO7TzMPKqpzvHNUKeEU3W6pBT3mTuBkaL4GC391tjgK5dJyg-Lw49Wu1XSNicL-ZWrOtnYPs3Pf0Zsc1IuNxINgCwhg/w640-h480/131944F7-BB74-408D-86B3-1C7326ECF197.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>From there we spent a couple of weeks southward in search of warmth and <i>(not necessarily in the following order)</i> finally found it in Death Valley, one of our favorite haunts .... although I'm not totally sure why. It could be that these are the actual colors, or that they sell humongous ice cream cones, scooped right out of the hill in the lower picture ..... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaSexI4n4LRz_8oPqXuAaT172I9AW7F0pIWQxCKHqQe7BFD3ekt1GwfMX4J0p3-d5jhbMLsLRD83XCioSG7S2EFJDZEj7MT50IkD--2vZ2OyY1KYNEZHKsJfL-vITiJ96rXd6q8-zVTaEJ_pI3CcRpY70IFuiQzbifEth5t3Gdppz4wskoVePd4BBQg/s1280/C62219BD-4D7D-4012-99F7-277EEBA3C9D7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1280" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaSexI4n4LRz_8oPqXuAaT172I9AW7F0pIWQxCKHqQe7BFD3ekt1GwfMX4J0p3-d5jhbMLsLRD83XCioSG7S2EFJDZEj7MT50IkD--2vZ2OyY1KYNEZHKsJfL-vITiJ96rXd6q8-zVTaEJ_pI3CcRpY70IFuiQzbifEth5t3Gdppz4wskoVePd4BBQg/w640-h442/C62219BD-4D7D-4012-99F7-277EEBA3C9D7.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz5OJ71w9vU1Nop2P2nHW-hjuN0bxquIQrdq1uLoUU40SYqpRYK9Q-LuAQR0jQ-nN7o62pfDTyGbYZsLur35pD3kcQimI-k0BUpWBxRFPmOaYe9-AbB37OjsZT-Ya-mIA__rG92CMOgDq5DpvAHC0Jw_BkJTftmj0oQbjf1aIyNB1bsWgMbyBdNmNxg/s1280/D1D81B1C-39B9-4A42-A550-2937716E04B8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="1280" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz5OJ71w9vU1Nop2P2nHW-hjuN0bxquIQrdq1uLoUU40SYqpRYK9Q-LuAQR0jQ-nN7o62pfDTyGbYZsLur35pD3kcQimI-k0BUpWBxRFPmOaYe9-AbB37OjsZT-Ya-mIA__rG92CMOgDq5DpvAHC0Jw_BkJTftmj0oQbjf1aIyNB1bsWgMbyBdNmNxg/w640-h394/D1D81B1C-39B9-4A42-A550-2937716E04B8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Just kidding.)</span></p><p>We also did the iconic drive down the mid-California coast (Big Sur area) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCoaTS3OwbXjrwsw7jIADs_jv85vPbfDY446gA4-yrR7m0PR1qTKcUjQbcyiJKYfVT-LLu-py1MLi8Nz6ylErKctCtTGgV4xjb19usu9XKf76-Uf6g1X8EawWQOXPfL_ZBHyxXe6yAy_pFWhD4W-D19GwRcJjMGYu7uASxIj4tgwZAD1TP0kj0oq6oA/s1280/F3546A3F-3719-40CA-A8BD-05DA857E64E3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHCoaTS3OwbXjrwsw7jIADs_jv85vPbfDY446gA4-yrR7m0PR1qTKcUjQbcyiJKYfVT-LLu-py1MLi8Nz6ylErKctCtTGgV4xjb19usu9XKf76-Uf6g1X8EawWQOXPfL_ZBHyxXe6yAy_pFWhD4W-D19GwRcJjMGYu7uASxIj4tgwZAD1TP0kj0oq6oA/w640-h426/F3546A3F-3719-40CA-A8BD-05DA857E64E3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>and were blown away by the views ..... not to mention the gas prices. Yet again, I am reminded that Oregon does not walk away with every natural beauty contest. If California could fix its problems, I'd be tempted to live there, in spite of the unfortunate fact that it (or rather a certain piece of uneven pavement) gave me a <i>slightly</i> broken foot which sent us in search of a pair of crutches the next day and promptly eliminated any hikes we'd hoped to do.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dx2XL6xXPdzs_NSXNPlP-_w7XXENjQDW-6ixco3bOrCvsdgczqVRQhpICvUwepwlEtSsVhHyK_o6vP0wmB4IrbPUM071djM3UOsYFDBfR427_GuEQqrgfXQX-pfSEfwaFbNBbp9NiY9m3mBOWnCigrDMVZHXdAitdOEKuoC9MlQx-CEHhEoGYdIEaw/s4032/IMG_1164.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dx2XL6xXPdzs_NSXNPlP-_w7XXENjQDW-6ixco3bOrCvsdgczqVRQhpICvUwepwlEtSsVhHyK_o6vP0wmB4IrbPUM071djM3UOsYFDBfR427_GuEQqrgfXQX-pfSEfwaFbNBbp9NiY9m3mBOWnCigrDMVZHXdAitdOEKuoC9MlQx-CEHhEoGYdIEaw/w364-h300/IMG_1164.jpg" width="364" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We're still trying to figure out Nevada, which .... is just there ..... kind of in the way of the more enjoyable states. Although we did visited a car museum in Reno. (Surprisingly, I've come to learn that car museums are quite interesting.) </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1HfrVEFjNFEeYG3-91aIp939FVgHDN1HX-4SelcNmmZLSYZVKMpKDWqETcTFzfCWbGzzcGT4-m2v2Ajs9dFNLYHziKMncittZR7mitTIfGNIMLz7nWyh93UazCUq6IJ85c8zvIOuu9yZ_qyFhauFJtp9wMlEJLsZGMOr2UwYkwJnj788Gp5T-d8xlOA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1HfrVEFjNFEeYG3-91aIp939FVgHDN1HX-4SelcNmmZLSYZVKMpKDWqETcTFzfCWbGzzcGT4-m2v2Ajs9dFNLYHziKMncittZR7mitTIfGNIMLz7nWyh93UazCUq6IJ85c8zvIOuu9yZ_qyFhauFJtp9wMlEJLsZGMOr2UwYkwJnj788Gp5T-d8xlOA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a><p><br /></p></div><br /><p></p><p>And, had the elevation not been so high making it too cold ..... we would've spent the night by this odd structure. Click <a href="https://travelnevada.com/historical-interests/stokes-castle/"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">here</span></a> if you're slightly curious.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggNPRZVFjb4VVPd9-25I-WJS9xN_aY5tq2T8WL1kbTHVV27dpRNjfOAqPK3BtopspMkX0YaX8WY6XkYZaYsTefl7hm3oaTZuNOeuRuLdTk42UHNg37w8ZmMrhbANbPxBMltnYkOOt7Av_nquoWsN0o52dhtGcqRk4nGfkgtva3VgRYyHii3YV7zlQedg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggNPRZVFjb4VVPd9-25I-WJS9xN_aY5tq2T8WL1kbTHVV27dpRNjfOAqPK3BtopspMkX0YaX8WY6XkYZaYsTefl7hm3oaTZuNOeuRuLdTk42UHNg37w8ZmMrhbANbPxBMltnYkOOt7Av_nquoWsN0o52dhtGcqRk4nGfkgtva3VgRYyHii3YV7zlQedg=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe;"><a href="https://travelnevada.com/historical-interests/stokes-castle/">Stokes Castle</a></span></div><p></p><p>We drove home via a portion of Oregon that was new to us, up through the town of Lakeview. This town, I assume, got its name because of its proximity to massive Goose Lake, as shown on all the maps. Maybe the lake was there once, but it's not there now. It's just a huge empty flat grassland. </p><p>It was Easter morning when we stopped by a couple of recently-heard-of-by-us natural landmarks between Lakeview and home. The ancient volcano, "Fort Rock", abruptly rises up out of the nearby farmland, and was unexpectedly impressive. We learned that every Easter, for nearly 70 years, the local Christian church holds a sunrise service there, complete with a bonfire. We arrived in time to see them hauling away the burn barrel, and we both decided we'd like to attend the service sometime.</p><p><img alt="Fort Rock State Natural Area - Oregon State Parks" class="n3VNCb KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://d3qvqlc701gzhm.cloudfront.net/thumbs/6289c047caed379aba70e53cbaa025e2ce128b904100d5e4f7c20a087001380b-750.jpg" style="height: 402px; margin: 0px; width: 603px;" /></p><p>Nearby "Hole In The Ground" (its official name) is a huge indentation that I'm sure people would love to think was caused by a massive meteor, but it was another volcano. The road(s) to it are a maze of rutted, winding dirt roads that are more comfortably done with a higher clearance vehicle than what we were in, although we did fine. You need your GPS to get to it because there are no signs. Worth seeing once, in my opinion. But not twice.</p><p><img alt="Hole-In-The-Ground | Central Oregon - Oregon Discovery" class="n3VNCb KAlRDb" data-noaft="1" jsaction="load:XAeZkd;" jsname="HiaYvf" src="https://oregondiscovery.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/DSC00556.jpg" style="-webkit-user-select: text; height: 402px; margin: 0px; width: 603px;" /></p><p>Also in that same vicinity is something called "Crack In The Ground" (I'm not making these names up) which appears to be a type of slot canyon (yes, Oregon has a few) ..... but alas, my wounded foot forced us to save that hike for another trip.</p><p><br /></p><p>And coming this summer, the plans are still a GO ...</p><p>to drive to ........ </p><p>Alaska!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-51445222910103533732022-01-30T17:44:00.000-08:002022-01-30T18:19:19.049-08:00Your average winter day in the rural *High* desert<p> </p><p><i>You may have assumed, by the title of this post, that I was going to talk about snow. Nope. Right now the sky is blue and the ground is dry.</i></p><p>As I have mentioned previously and probably too often, we live on five acres (five-point-two, to be more precise) out on the "high" desert of Central Oregon. (<i>I don't know why it's called "high" .... I looked it up and learned "high desert" doesn't really mean anything at all .... ) </i></p><p>When we purchased this land five years ago (OMGosh .... FIVE! ..... <span style="font-size: x-small;">wow</span>) it was completely uncleared. And the bulk of it remains uncleared. Which was the plan. Zero landscaping except just around the house. Leave it natural and organic. Easy peasy! </p><p>How naive, were we.</p><p>Now we are tasked with the noble plan each year of spending a good chunk of the winter months, removing anything that might become fuel for unwanted fires the following summer. Yup! By golly, it'll be a banner year taming the land! However, our plans usually whittle down to only a handful of days, if that. Because it's so easy to NOT do it. And because it's hard work. </p><p>We just had one of those noble days. Husband dusted off the chainsaw, hauled it outside, and buzzed off heaps of low branches from a few of our gazillion juniper trees. I pulled up (what seemed like) tons of mostly-rotted scrubby sage bushes and it all went on burn piles. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj83NvdSEZPTYAYZuUWEJXtJ8BBgTqsFXKkJPMN-EIQVWU2ooBIjyohnm1BGLOg4ORGvc8Ve-HtiTv9VnbMJvZ1ubn_925cII0oR7HeMFyZnn7UbPrDjJi7f1Izw7_RHmnRff5U2iEjfetM-HHfF9M5kIa76MWpe9rRfVKQZkdDbLdhwrgOO2zL0Ii5IA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj83NvdSEZPTYAYZuUWEJXtJ8BBgTqsFXKkJPMN-EIQVWU2ooBIjyohnm1BGLOg4ORGvc8Ve-HtiTv9VnbMJvZ1ubn_925cII0oR7HeMFyZnn7UbPrDjJi7f1Izw7_RHmnRff5U2iEjfetM-HHfF9M5kIa76MWpe9rRfVKQZkdDbLdhwrgOO2zL0Ii5IA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p>In western Oregon where the color green was born and perfected, the trees are real, and where I lived most of my life, if you cut fresh branches off living trees or shrubs and immediately try to burn them in the middle of winter, well .... good luck with that. You'll get more smoke than flames. Not the case here in the *high* desert, where even the saplings will promptly erupt into an inferno regardless of the season. No need to let firewood "age" if you plan to burn it in your fireplace. It's ready from the get-go.</p><p>And for an added thrill, you can top that burning pile of branches with some o' them thar dry tumbleweeds. Just keep a bucket of water close by.</p><p>We spent most of the day cutting, pulling, hauling, piling, and burning ..... and a relatively small portion of these 5.2 acres actually looks a little cleaner. (Until the cheat grass arrives this spring.) Afterwards we hobbled back to the house, soothed our aching muscles in our hot tub, and slathered on the Icy Hot. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT3vzwjCu24w7RqB71MztVBoSpwfsISgoET-BgiOD4ji7QZK7rvkQ8lU0vAcHe4FY_qj4TV0Ej_Pys-Od9N4VJCqFP90FGtiAVN462Dcci-kGXhaN9wY4-sWGn2EBe_zLTgoiw_zUf510G9-Dygj82T6s8Y3L-uWHQrS_mLiv1Aq13xcPay7LNGx8ttg=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiT3vzwjCu24w7RqB71MztVBoSpwfsISgoET-BgiOD4ji7QZK7rvkQ8lU0vAcHe4FY_qj4TV0Ej_Pys-Od9N4VJCqFP90FGtiAVN462Dcci-kGXhaN9wY4-sWGn2EBe_zLTgoiw_zUf510G9-Dygj82T6s8Y3L-uWHQrS_mLiv1Aq13xcPay7LNGx8ttg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please tell me you can see the difference.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The question remains if we will do any more this winter. The intentions are impressively lofty, but we'll see if those intentions bear fruit, so to speak. I'm especially good at dreaming up grand (and unlikely) ideas which include (but are not limited to) things like learning to use a chainsaw myself, building a cabin, buying a tractor, adding a second driveway, rearranging some boulders, and the like. But for now, a little more clearing will have to suffice, as boring as that is. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjuxRKd5iJvxHQuZ5BT9pS_Hgo1psJG7WAvrCW_rIuiTW1ftkv0SQJYX1q92Cklau2G1u7dqocnBlXikfmtDo2h6WJ1S49Amkvnd-Wn0n2u9H5bGEty9bmpnF6KHm7StwRfprwApBJmsiPkzvRQY40HNV3oBRaro59lauC4FN1TmGsP30XJ-RGGjO-wg=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjuxRKd5iJvxHQuZ5BT9pS_Hgo1psJG7WAvrCW_rIuiTW1ftkv0SQJYX1q92Cklau2G1u7dqocnBlXikfmtDo2h6WJ1S49Amkvnd-Wn0n2u9H5bGEty9bmpnF6KHm7StwRfprwApBJmsiPkzvRQY40HNV3oBRaro59lauC4FN1TmGsP30XJ-RGGjO-wg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinkCG1YJSB-LLNDkZFpA7NwJHxM0yGcbQko9UXlap2svZ3cc_Wuh0Pb6mkdA0ODFmVFMkQI9s-f0BsWiw_l4vpWlr3BsGY6zLLYYUKVkTR-1AXg1aiIXBTHqSjdypSJgcBCqWmOsDezsoxD0FH-dV7-gGVCjiL28Ox6RJjNJihDfM49aHB4cc_r-ZlSA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinkCG1YJSB-LLNDkZFpA7NwJHxM0yGcbQko9UXlap2svZ3cc_Wuh0Pb6mkdA0ODFmVFMkQI9s-f0BsWiw_l4vpWlr3BsGY6zLLYYUKVkTR-1AXg1aiIXBTHqSjdypSJgcBCqWmOsDezsoxD0FH-dV7-gGVCjiL28Ox6RJjNJihDfM49aHB4cc_r-ZlSA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p>On the upside, we have enough free firewood for our wood stove to last into the next decade. It's just hanging around outside, thinking it's a tree, ready to be cut down, stacked, and burned that same afternoon. I'm keepin' the Icy Hot handy.</p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-56361206645726701922021-12-28T15:28:00.001-08:002022-11-12T11:23:27.166-08:00Survived the holidays yet again ... and other residual ramblings<p>As a young mom, I was really good at doing Christmas. I budgeted all year for the extra spending. I usually started my gift planning around September, involving a secret, highly-guarded, constantly-updated list of gifts for our kids. It was my job to keep it all balanced so that, when opening presents, no one ran out ahead of the others. Sometimes Husband would spring a last minute gift-idea for one of the kids and I would scramble to provide something comparable for the others so it all remained *even*. Plus there had to be a balance between the inevitable new sweater or socks .... and the fun stuff. No one teaches these skills when you first decide to become a parent and many dads wouldn't have paid attention anyway. </p><p>I shopped, decorated the house and tree, played the music, baked the cookies, planned the food, mailed the cards and letters, and wrapped mountains of packages. Christmas was like a giant pageant with me as the director, producer, caterer, and set/costume designer. And I loved it all because those wonderful and priceless childhood memories will always be our gift to our kids. </p><p>But that phase of life ends. </p><p>And here we are, alone in the desert. </p><p>This year the realization hit that if we don't want to spend Christmas alone .... then we can no longer spend Christmas at home. This is because all of our kids now have kids, and we engrained in them years ago, that a kid's Christmas is best at home. So that's where they need to be, with their own tree and their own stuff and their own memory-making traditions. We were the ones who chose to move away. So we are the ones who now must do the traveling. </p><p><i>Side Note: One of the many motivations for building our van was to better enable foisting ourselves upon our adult-children by making our visits easier on everyone. We can park in any of their driveways and sleep in our own bed. (In #Vanlife, this is called "mooch-docking".) It's a win-win for everyone .... assuming you like your relatives. </i></p><p>That said ...... whoever decided to plunk Christmas right down into the dead of winter (instead of .... say .... balmy May or maybe June) wasn't thinking it through, because in our case, in every direction from our home, are mountain passes. And that's where it tends to snow .... a lot .... </p><p>Husband poo-poos my concerns. Unlike me, he loves driving in snow. Even better if everyone else would stay out of his way. I must admit, so far we've had no issues driving through said passes. A few concerns a time or two, but nothing scary. He bought new beefy tires for our non-4WD van and on the chance we ever DID get stuck, we'd have plenty of heat, water, food, and all the comforts. I think Husband would actually enjoy getting stuck for a while, just to show the world that we've GOT this. We carry chains and a shovel (to appease me) but have rarely come close to needing either. However, both this year and last, we had to cut our holiday visit a little short to get home ahead of incoming weather. It is our new normal. </p><p>But new normals aren't necessarily bad. They're just different. Christmas is easier than it used to be .... even when it snows. And our kids are very welcoming and our grandkids are award-winningly delightful. </p><p>Plus I don't need to make a list anymore. Another win .... sort of. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-19758677015275899822021-09-17T20:34:00.012-07:002022-01-14T07:20:46.971-08:00#vanlife<p>Last week we rolled in from our longest van trip to date. Three weeks. And I'm telling you ..... after three RVs .... namely: one small trailer, one monster motorhome, and one small toy hauler .... we have found IT. Now, granted, if a person (or two persons to be exact) is planning to live full time on wheels for over two years ..... a monster motorhome is the way to go. But we found we didn't necessarily like, for various reasons, living in one. (Except those few weeks in Palm Springs were preeeettty sweet.) </p><p>Husband was leery at first about spending too many consecutive days in a 23 foot van, fearing claustrophobia. Learning our limits is still in progress. </p><p>The trip:</p><p>We started out heading north into our neighboring state of Washington which does a bang-up job of islands, mountains, national parks, water, and ferries. And although wildfires were still a-blazin', we managed to avoid most smoke .... at first. </p><p>May I just say, if you have not been on a ferry going to the San Juan Islands of NW Washington, you are missing out. We have done it more times on bicycles, which is MUCH cheaper than in a car. This time we needed a reservation for the ferry and were left with the only time available .... 6:15 a.m. Taking a vehicle longer than 22 ft. on the ferry sends the price into orbit (>$200). 'Tis sobering until you realize that you are taking your lodging across with you, eliminating the need for a hotel room (which are also pricey there). We stayed there two nights, thus making the cost reasonable. Our ultra-early departure (we had to be at the ferry terminal before daylight) seemed unfortunate until the sunrise happened. Now we recommend it, because .... wow. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG-_p-jQCjaJkucMDX6Qqu4iaagUulYENZWtVYrIKC31yu6DeX_lz46DeZ2Ka_CSmbeYQovPsrza5Il1WU9i5gzzJVPHelV09UQpQrG3RhyphenhyphenJ3XhMDHHY4UrlhhB6UMrP1N3PyFnm7hFxa/s2048/IMG_2469.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGG-_p-jQCjaJkucMDX6Qqu4iaagUulYENZWtVYrIKC31yu6DeX_lz46DeZ2Ka_CSmbeYQovPsrza5Il1WU9i5gzzJVPHelV09UQpQrG3RhyphenhyphenJ3XhMDHHY4UrlhhB6UMrP1N3PyFnm7hFxa/w480-h640/IMG_2469.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bC0hIkIQqRjnBRRWMvVyjDExgA5ui6D4YtfhEVlVeGBM0hJntc9BqzAoiqwJopB9p1Ls1vb210d5CiE8UzMZrxA5rJb_t4OdcA5wpxlXtXKTFcOErdBNwHOTmOPecMEqyCE40qYqPEOn/s2048/IMG_2473.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bC0hIkIQqRjnBRRWMvVyjDExgA5ui6D4YtfhEVlVeGBM0hJntc9BqzAoiqwJopB9p1Ls1vb210d5CiE8UzMZrxA5rJb_t4OdcA5wpxlXtXKTFcOErdBNwHOTmOPecMEqyCE40qYqPEOn/w640-h480/IMG_2473.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>One of my favorite spots in the PNW is on the far side of the largest island of the San Juans .... called Roche Harbor, which is where we put our kayak to use. Roche Harbor floats in a fairyland of green forested hills, flower gardens, artists' booths, restaurants, and even a small historic hotel. Not to mention the boats. (New England, move over.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwAEtCosaHLIHmygKI-T_Y9PDeKLZ79kGJBN7T5Asc5F70_IKLENIciNmgZP9j-VTZWR1cCvDd6bL_gUQO4utK3a2yg9XnpKsaf2l9y_Gl9fmXk2IlZJ5o6eeLbobIw-z3X9KgCoMbJ0O/s2048/iu.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwAEtCosaHLIHmygKI-T_Y9PDeKLZ79kGJBN7T5Asc5F70_IKLENIciNmgZP9j-VTZWR1cCvDd6bL_gUQO4utK3a2yg9XnpKsaf2l9y_Gl9fmXk2IlZJ5o6eeLbobIw-z3X9KgCoMbJ0O/w640-h360/iu.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaUKEfwjVBTgGGm04v8eFtC5wuZSgTlvgBUkC1R8XR1gORVijVL2vrZ9KhldLGgwxCQfQXbQ67D_KgrisR22ilDyMDi9d83nGVmp8F0xczUV0MmwYz88in1jWJs0ozhck-iHdBidaW9XD/s2048/iu.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaUKEfwjVBTgGGm04v8eFtC5wuZSgTlvgBUkC1R8XR1gORVijVL2vrZ9KhldLGgwxCQfQXbQ67D_KgrisR22ilDyMDi9d83nGVmp8F0xczUV0MmwYz88in1jWJs0ozhck-iHdBidaW9XD/w640-h426/iu.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The next highlight of our travels was an oft-overlooked little National Park just south of the Canada border, called North Cascades. (Have you heard of it?? I had not until last year and I LIVE A DAY'S DRIVE AWAY.) Many of the best parts can be seen from your car. We did a 3.5 mile hike up to a view point overlooking Diablo Lake, then discovered the best view (shown in next picture) was from a pull-out, further up the road. Totally stunning and the color of the water LOOKED JUST LIKE THIS. (Something to do with glacial silt.) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Yl0SBZLaJQtJ066M5TY3mIIYitiDxyIu-OoHkfrbkLzsEUpK18PUFDD1tfZosbf5bz99Jx8YqK8ynjeORwoJhLyBD4Uwow7_k-MG0DLRZbb9xecBAur3AmvztEVtHxZiP8R6g2VBh4wn/s2048/IMG_2482.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Yl0SBZLaJQtJ066M5TY3mIIYitiDxyIu-OoHkfrbkLzsEUpK18PUFDD1tfZosbf5bz99Jx8YqK8ynjeORwoJhLyBD4Uwow7_k-MG0DLRZbb9xecBAur3AmvztEVtHxZiP8R6g2VBh4wn/w640-h480/IMG_2482.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>However, if you go there, plan around the weather. We rode our motorcycle through it last year on an unfortunately rainy day, and much of the scenery was obscured in the clouds and fog. Hence, we HAD to go back this year. Really ..... no need to go all the way to Banff in Canada until you've been here. Have I mentioned how much I love to visit (parts of) Washington?? Except for the coast, it beats Oregon, in my opinion. </p><p>I will pause here briefly to mention one of the best parts of #vanlife. (The hashtag matters. Don't ask me why.) We use an app called iOverlander which shows out-of-the-way campsites, all found and shared by other campers. It connects to google maps to make them easy to locate, complete with reviews. We have stayed in some wonderful spots, usually free, including: </p><p>By the water in Anacortes (up to 72 hours allowed) about a mile from the ferry terminal, where we spent the night listening to the seagulls. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOCoxSE9UMn_ARy-XUWXryxwtuQl6ETANIjtOG7JUtpTode_N20x235k8s6oS7k2gVHjCytBsZt6NBS2mQAwQcqQKqveQ2_oudsxS7k2_EP1f19Q12pDj-l6vk2JQTZSyC6XpEMrWV86P/s2048/IMG_2465.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1725" data-original-width="2048" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOCoxSE9UMn_ARy-XUWXryxwtuQl6ETANIjtOG7JUtpTode_N20x235k8s6oS7k2gVHjCytBsZt6NBS2mQAwQcqQKqveQ2_oudsxS7k2_EP1f19Q12pDj-l6vk2JQTZSyC6XpEMrWV86P/w640-h540/IMG_2465.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Somewhere close to the Canadian border, out in the woods overlooking the mountains. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiR4ftf2eE0c47qHPagolpuM0A6iSTLmEF1tkPJ1bY-NBk99g1Mg5W1-1NxEkCMvjguh5Xe-nRP1yEm98PQSWMrM-gB8-ukmJGxCiG0fJJo9dUJBmyaCKyKilTk3eLrH7iNKOxKzXFpLZ0/s2048/IMG_2491.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiR4ftf2eE0c47qHPagolpuM0A6iSTLmEF1tkPJ1bY-NBk99g1Mg5W1-1NxEkCMvjguh5Xe-nRP1yEm98PQSWMrM-gB8-ukmJGxCiG0fJJo9dUJBmyaCKyKilTk3eLrH7iNKOxKzXFpLZ0/w640-h480/IMG_2491.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">(North Cascade NP is seen off in the distance. We would've have stayed longer in this spot if we had cell reception for our zoom church service .... since the next morning was Sunday. So instead, we drove to and attended church via our iPad, at a park next to the Grand Coulee Dam.)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>.... And next to a river along a remote road near Coeur d'Alene, </p><p>etc, etc.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDp-bkIdbmRT3RbDi2m-SqbsSVed4SMBntLyXg53eZGcGGNeqNL3YT8RChefobkpGF9N5s4eh4r2zl7Jr6O6MBgJQ3Eyd7dn49DC7qwI9djMgv8x64P53CByH0rObtr0dY7VeDWeMPlqt/s2048/IMG_2492.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDp-bkIdbmRT3RbDi2m-SqbsSVed4SMBntLyXg53eZGcGGNeqNL3YT8RChefobkpGF9N5s4eh4r2zl7Jr6O6MBgJQ3Eyd7dn49DC7qwI9djMgv8x64P53CByH0rObtr0dY7VeDWeMPlqt/w640-h480/IMG_2492.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p>It's totally legit. No itinerary needed. No reservations. We just consult the app and figure out where we want to spend the next night or two as we go along. It's doable when you are completely self-contained with your own water, power, and most important ... bathroom. </p><p>We touched briefly into Montana then back through the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho and discovered that Ketchum, Idaho, (an upscale town by Sun Valley) has an amazing network of paved bike paths throughout and beyond the town. We hauled our folding bikes out of the van and went for a ride. </p><p>Interspersed along the way, we got some much-needed family time with siblings, after which we planned to head east towards the Tetons and maybe Yellowstone. But the smoke stopped us. So we rerouted to Wallowa Lake in NE Oregon, where the smoke promptly followed. We scrapped our plan to do more kayaking or to ride the tram up the mountain (too hazy) but did a little biking and a rousing game of miniature golf where Yours Truly (non-golfer) sunk the last hole and won a free game. Ha! And Husband discovered a prime fishing spot (perhaps his new favorite) on the Wallowa river. </p><p>We had heard the smoke was bad at home, so we stayed away until it was supposed to improve and then drove home, returning right after there had been a good soaking rain that everyone talked about the next day. </p><p>Thoughts:</p><p>Any future traveling in Oregon, Washington, Idaho (and thereabouts) this time of year, should probably be towards the coast where it rains more. Otherwise plan on smoke. Or maybe wait until October. It is the new normal. </p><p>Idaho keeps its beauty hidden. To find it, you must abandon I-84 and go north. </p><p>Husband never felt claustrophobic. (I think fishing-therapy played a part.) We're ready to go farther. Alaska. Next year. </p><p>Maybe next time we will take either the bikes or the kayak. It all fit, but the van garage was crammed full. </p><p>The dog was thrilled to get home. </p><p>We love our van. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQP6T36t_Cc31Gy98tYsv8Yay4LpeJLOAlABCxxr6eOk0yJJrYfB_9xryVjKXgbR9lgxypaqg12X1s9xmyUaGgigPPKIarh-LOl1mi6w7qjoGXC0mmhigUvJ-l7N0kzA0SKDaRZxaaej7/s2048/IMG_2455.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1470" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQP6T36t_Cc31Gy98tYsv8Yay4LpeJLOAlABCxxr6eOk0yJJrYfB_9xryVjKXgbR9lgxypaqg12X1s9xmyUaGgigPPKIarh-LOl1mi6w7qjoGXC0mmhigUvJ-l7N0kzA0SKDaRZxaaej7/w288-h400/IMG_2455.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-53130781312979001252021-08-16T16:33:00.007-07:002022-11-12T11:17:09.978-08:00Better by the dozen<p>Just a few months ago, we arrived at a total of twelve grand-twigs on our family tree. This may be it for us, concerning this newest generation. Or not. As far as the end goes, the "fat lady" has not sung yet, although I did have a certain hymn stuck in my head this morning which I avoided humming out loud for fear it would never leave, but I digress .... </p><p>Our even dozen grandkids, who all came from spectacular parents, are on a new level of spectacular and if you don't want to hear about them, you're excused to go check Facebook. I'm ranking them by age and thus, will start with .....</p><p>#1 is a gentle young man who lives in a small, yet secure sphere. He does not speak because of a mystery called autism and I cannot wait to someday learn about the myriad of secrets locked inside of him. I have no doubt they'll be profound. </p><p>#2 has no secrets locked inside as she is quite willing to express every thought whether asked for or not. We've stockpiled years of laughter over her many uninhibited verbal-isms. She too has autism and she finds noise, and sometimes people in general, very off-putting, but at the same time, can enjoy being the center of attention. If grandmas are allowed to have favorites, she'd be in my top tier. </p><p>#3 just got his driver's license this year and I'd trust him to drive me anywhere. (I'm not sure I could have said that about my own kids at that age.) He somehow evolved from a square-peg-in-a-round-hole kid to someone who is smart, mature, pleasant, helpful, and he leaves a wake of impressed people behind him. I know this because they tell me. </p><p>#4 has not stopped smiling since he was born. Nor has he stopped collecting things, and I'm always lagging behind on what the current collection consists of .... from anything related to dinosaurs, to rocks, to coins, to ...... He is a true entrepreneur and would be thrilled if, instead of receiving a typical kid toy for his birthday, he received stock market shares. I'm not kidding. And after a visit to our house, if anyone accidentally leaves something behind, it'll be him. </p><p>#5 is getting precariously close to teenage-hood and her delightful personality is showing more since she actually started talking to me. It took a weeklong trip of hiking in Utah canyons together. She's becoming her mother's worst fear, which is .... pretty ..... since *pretty* is often more challenging to raise than is *average*. Especially through the teen years. She also inherited her mom's artistic talent and anyone who sees her drawings does a double-take. </p><p>#6 is our freckled tomboy and I unabashedly take full credit for it, since that used to be me. She is determined to never be outdone by her older brothers and I've yet to see her admit to being afraid of anything. If a chore can be ignored or put off till tomorrow, she will take full advantage and then giggle her way out of it. </p><p>#7 can pull off the most woe-is-me face when describing, in full detail, all the injustices in her little world .... which are usually brought on by a younger sibling. She cannot tell a story without dancing, prancing, and twirling for added emphasis. She loves anything and everything girl-related and even though she has yet to start first grade, reads amazingly well. If you are deserving, she will grace you with a genuine hand-colored picture for your forever enjoyment.</p><p>#8 ...... if you recall the cartoon characters, "Pinky and the Brain" .... she is the Brain, in pigtails. Just know that behind that beguiling little face lurks deep thoughts, some of which may seem quite curious at best, or a bit morbid at worst. Like her older sister, she has mastered the twirling and dancing and will also color a picture of flowers or unicorns (always in pink) to give as her highest token of esteem. </p><p>#9 is the quintessential "snips and snails and puppy dog tails" who careens through his day with the typical forethought of any three-year-old boy. Fortunately, in addition to his dutiful parents, he has his two older sisters who are not only very quick to jump in and speak for him, but to both mother him and complain about him almost simultaneously. He is the first one to get a bump or scrape and will then bellow at full volume if you even suggest taking a look at it. But his dimpled cheeks and enormous blue eyes win over any situation.</p><p>#10 just turned one about a month ago, so we are all still making our introductions. He has luscious dark brown hair, deep sparkly-blue eyes, and would have the most kissy-poochy mouth if it wasn't always wet with drool. The next time we see him, he'll probably be walking and thank goodness for that, because he's about as heavy as a sack full of lead. But be warned ..... do not take him more than a few steps away from his mama, or he will let you hear about it.</p><p>#11 and #12 came as a packaged deal and we have even more to learn about them. One of each gender and I don't remember which one emerged a minute or two before the other. They must have ridden a lot of roller coasters in heaven before they were born because their new little lives have been full of ups and downs. And thankfully, the ups are winning the race. They're still learning that nighttime is for sleeping, and better yet, to be done in sync with each other, so as to give their tired parents relief. But they've already melted far more hearts than this tiny pair would seem capable. </p><p>So there you have it. We're fairly sure that somehow, we won the tree lottery. We love each one of these twigs which will someday become leafy branches with twigs of their own. And if you're cringing at how *sappy* that sounds ..... that makes two of us. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiap6H4F7rJ_rmPkhxYC9DoMy3VmVJGaJGJylyaSW5PRzTAnpOJ_FfLVoHdWZjfVy0BGByzEbkXWKTMcU2tXG51eT5l3JhnsdX8AVMyLGSCNGzYND7IcQuYAflY2R5ix-6LClgjCFYkOSbf/s1000/Tree-of-life-spring.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="942" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiap6H4F7rJ_rmPkhxYC9DoMy3VmVJGaJGJylyaSW5PRzTAnpOJ_FfLVoHdWZjfVy0BGByzEbkXWKTMcU2tXG51eT5l3JhnsdX8AVMyLGSCNGzYND7IcQuYAflY2R5ix-6LClgjCFYkOSbf/w188-h200/Tree-of-life-spring.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-17830156878970409262021-07-25T16:06:00.003-07:002022-01-14T07:23:24.373-08:00Ebikes, baby!<p>Note: Auto-correct is NOT happy about the word "ebike" and is fiercely fighting me each time I type it. If you are also unfamiliar with it, it means electric bikes. And we got some! </p><p>In our previous life, Husband and I both rode regular bikes and had some glorious biking adventures. We rode tandems and single bikes, hybrids and road bikes. That all abruptly ended about 7-8 years ago with the acquisition of a motorcycle .... truly a happy event as far as the legs and <i>Tush </i>were<i> </i>concerned. </p><p>Then, with the advance of lithium batteries, e b i k e s (take THAT, auto-correct!) exploded onto the scene with a plethora of different makes and models. Back in the day <span style="font-size: x-small;">(dang, that sounds old) </span>there used to be a manageable number of bike manufacturers .... Trek, Cannondale, Specialized, etc., and local shops sold many of them. However, over months of researching e b i k e s, I kept encountering more and more brands. And I'm talking dozens! Test-riding them all was impossible. Heck, without criss-crossing the USA and Canada, it was impossible to even SEE most of them before purchasing. </p><p>About a year ago, a friend loaned us his <i>Rad </i>bike for a while, which is probably the most widely-known brand, and are only sold online. But in the end, Husband chose the high-quality components of a Tern, and I wanted a lighter, low-step (think of the old girl-style bikes) and got a Magnum. (I'll bet you never heard of either name. See what I mean??) We purchased both at local shops and both fold in half for easier packing into ..... you guessed it .... our van. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKewSBb7krOsC1RqQsO80U9rYbBpijm33UNMRLd8wXu9kdQ3pOu5T1ytvH0yneWYHG5fJ24AM7DyS9KuqBmbBshOx3rRXmn1EvbAgu9heay2_-BnOsgXTI50Ps0d10wAVAX8DtS8pwORUR/s2048/IMG_2416.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKewSBb7krOsC1RqQsO80U9rYbBpijm33UNMRLd8wXu9kdQ3pOu5T1ytvH0yneWYHG5fJ24AM7DyS9KuqBmbBshOx3rRXmn1EvbAgu9heay2_-BnOsgXTI50Ps0d10wAVAX8DtS8pwORUR/w640-h480/IMG_2416.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>In fact, the van was our main reason for getting e b i k e s. We can travel to wherever, park, set up camp, and then ride the bikes to ... say ... go eat or explore, without having to undo all that setting up to drive somewhere. Flawless plan, right? </p><p>We figure it's best to carry them inside our vehicle, rather than on a rack, to avoid the sad possibility of them disappearing into the night. And, as a nod to one of my previous posts about my delight in van mods, I installed straps in the van "garage" to keep the two folded bikes upright and separated, so they don't attack each other during transit. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOsO0262-NxUL6wX5MXtwZg5Hb1LRtYe_TD_6NcJveaRNn7YKsodLO6Y00asZmO0XvZ_y_zaoRAtc7GtY8CVIZcrAey4LlYl2SrPqiEha34e0Z6ST-Ep8AGLarzqd1slELlHtBNkTimFd/s2048/IMG_2423.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOsO0262-NxUL6wX5MXtwZg5Hb1LRtYe_TD_6NcJveaRNn7YKsodLO6Y00asZmO0XvZ_y_zaoRAtc7GtY8CVIZcrAey4LlYl2SrPqiEha34e0Z6ST-Ep8AGLarzqd1slELlHtBNkTimFd/w640-h480/IMG_2423.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Speaking of mods ... on my bike I've added a front basket, different seat, and a mirror. Husband tries to hold onto a semblance of his former youthful-biking-coolness but alas, I'm afraid, due to the big basket attached to his rear fender (for holding either groceries or dog) he will probably fall short of that goal. I don't care how I look because, for me, this bike is not about appearances, it's about utility. (Wouldn't matter anyway .....) At least there are no more dreaded clip-in shoes (the cause of my two minor, previous-life bike crashes) nor any padded spandex whatsoever. </p><p>My e b i k e (as do most) has two amazing features. The first one is a throttle which I seldom use because the second feature -- "Peddle Assist" -- pretty much does it all. I have the option of riding without engaging either of those features (nobody does that), or push a button and <i>WHOOSH</i> .... hills become a non-issue. I still do enough peddling to get a respectable workout without rendering myself useless for the rest of the day. <i>(For those of you who know and care-- most of the time I'm in PA levels 1 or 2.)</i> The downside of this operation is that the battery must be recharged now and then, and for that, one must have the presence of mind to remember to do it. Supposedly I should be able get well over 50 miles per charge, depending on how much peddling I do, but that remains to be tested. One thing's for sure, you do NOT want to be caught mid-ride with a depleted battery because that would leave you with nothing but some seriously heavy slogging* to get home. (*Impromptu term for manually pedaling an over 50-lb bike.)</p><p>My way of mentally dealing with the sticker-shock of a new bike is to ride it. And that I have. Well ... some. The countryside where I live is decidedly dull and colorless and almost everywhere looks the same except for an occasional (and sometimes startlingly) massive canyon. Not to mention, this time of year it's usually too hot to ride after nine a.m. So far the Tush's limit is about 18 miles, but I have hopes that'll improve because there's a Dairy Queen in town that would entail a 30 mile round trip, give or take. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegGAm7n4cipcbcW1EeU1oSWFdfh2jBklgkE-IJ4IW-_xBHsCwSJGU5E1FpCV9iJFl8bcSVX2mWgJa5ZTRiy4CVJeJzDtosAiSx-8u1Rg-jMArzZ-KH8AIaBuZhS36cBWaTNTUo_vBMUJJ/s2048/IMG_2356.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegGAm7n4cipcbcW1EeU1oSWFdfh2jBklgkE-IJ4IW-_xBHsCwSJGU5E1FpCV9iJFl8bcSVX2mWgJa5ZTRiy4CVJeJzDtosAiSx-8u1Rg-jMArzZ-KH8AIaBuZhS36cBWaTNTUo_vBMUJJ/w480-h640/IMG_2356.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is at the Alvord Desert in SE Oregon which was on our Must Return list. We first went there five years ago and I wrote about it <span><a href="https://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/10/can-you-say-r-e-m-o-t-e.html" style="color: #ff00fe;"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">here</span></a>.</span><span style="color: #ff00fe;"> </span> It was the perfect place (for me) to get used to a new type of bike because there is literally nothing (NOTHING!) you can run into. The larger of those two specks in the distance is Husband on his bike, and the tiny speck is our dog in hot pursuit. (Didn't have the basket yet.)</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>So time will tell. All our former-life bikes are gone except for one (not mine) that hosts a thick layer of dust. And hopefully this blasted heat wave will JUST STOP IT! </p><p>STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!!</p><p>......... (See previous semi-grumpy post.)</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-69989830235016943202021-07-20T20:19:00.008-07:002022-11-12T11:17:23.901-08:00Somethin's burnin' <p>Where we used to live, until about three years ago, I never could see a reason to have a 72 hour kit. (I know, I know. Raised eyebrows. Shocked faces. Gasps.) A better idea, in my opinion, would be to keep a few necessary items at one of our kids' homes, who lived nearby. Everything else we might need was available at any number of local shops, grocery stores, or pharmacies. In our Former Life, the only realistic disaster was maybe a house fire or ...... hmmmm. Flood? No. Nuclear attack? Pshaw. We never did get around to leaving anything at anyone's house, nonetheless, the intent was there. And (a very pertinent point) it rained a lot where we used to live. I'll explain why I bring this up. </p><p>We now live in the desert where it's very dry 3-4 months of the year. Every year, the news ominously reports, is drier than the last, not to mention this heat wave from you-know-where. Wild fires can spring up in an instant, especially in remote areas. So a single lighted match or cigarette causes great consternation. We are shamed into keeping our trees trimmed up and brush cleared with frequent reminders of potential calamity should we fail to comply. Thunderstorms, unless accompanied by a fair amount of rain, are no longer innocent summer entertainment. July 4th fireworks bring a lot of angst. Alerts pop up on my phone with evacuation updates.</p><p>It's a different world over here. (I fantasize about lawn sprinklers mounted on our roof. Couldn't hurt, right?) To put it briefly, I miss the rain. </p><p>About ten days ago as we were driving back from town, we saw a mega plume of smoke coming from what looked like the area where we live. (Fortunately it wasn't, although it WAS less than seven miles away and moving closer.) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzu4JWTSYRrHFtoA69A-FpFTuFBQFlf3UFZD5XfqP_8qVH4uNKPemdIG36A-1bfheNUkml3LhnXkur7S1Z47H5s8SkGQDfUkHvORVQ_a5WurP9fFhv4NHBWnmO8c6HAx23YUQ_E7BzLH6/s1634/IMG_2401.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1634" data-original-width="1242" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuzu4JWTSYRrHFtoA69A-FpFTuFBQFlf3UFZD5XfqP_8qVH4uNKPemdIG36A-1bfheNUkml3LhnXkur7S1Z47H5s8SkGQDfUkHvORVQ_a5WurP9fFhv4NHBWnmO8c6HAx23YUQ_E7BzLH6/w486-h640/IMG_2401.jpg" width="486" /></a></div><p>For the next couple of days, our local Facebook group was abuzz and cars were gathering along roads where there were viewpoints. Husband and I sat on our patio and watched the fire-fighting planes flying to dump their load of red retardant then back to the local airport to refill. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMwt6KbTo26Qzy2lcyWebVN8wNB0q6gyNiho910-uhuLNLkxgG4hFl2yNHGMpPNywXZ2kz6yo-QelkSfDfyEBhcbQIWtgt4eSnTw8mXNBkRzaj-lme41uj1Yl3IK4PUJMEEc6RPKeWrvz/s2048/IMG_2403.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMwt6KbTo26Qzy2lcyWebVN8wNB0q6gyNiho910-uhuLNLkxgG4hFl2yNHGMpPNywXZ2kz6yo-QelkSfDfyEBhcbQIWtgt4eSnTw8mXNBkRzaj-lme41uj1Yl3IK4PUJMEEc6RPKeWrvz/w640-h480/IMG_2403.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A helicopter heading back to refill the bag at the end of the cable with (we assume) water.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZsCf9pGs5JeaaRYLRm-8zkYmtRBGuuQwzeupxfbO6F2NRr31_of-Fz3Y6yr4LFLwzIrpjGcfj5N2MIpojGYZYux2PU0QULulsBw5swgs57qflCZmdK_IwHJDCWsFRHyNJv2KXvmdyaxo/s2048/fire.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZsCf9pGs5JeaaRYLRm-8zkYmtRBGuuQwzeupxfbO6F2NRr31_of-Fz3Y6yr4LFLwzIrpjGcfj5N2MIpojGYZYux2PU0QULulsBw5swgs57qflCZmdK_IwHJDCWsFRHyNJv2KXvmdyaxo/w640-h426/fire.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrN0K9u3UOFY2GTAegBqDav-Txsop1S85yeCu5_HbVn5AqBBPMIv9yvcunZN7BsyBMQ8skDw0QQtBHDoUp-8t3CmBD9jeMH5HUAWt9mOPznCyrSc_4fmsDRSl8SnfRuXXpbdQ7-jQrVGZ/s1280/Grandview+fire+evening.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrN0K9u3UOFY2GTAegBqDav-Txsop1S85yeCu5_HbVn5AqBBPMIv9yvcunZN7BsyBMQ8skDw0QQtBHDoUp-8t3CmBD9jeMH5HUAWt9mOPznCyrSc_4fmsDRSl8SnfRuXXpbdQ7-jQrVGZ/w640-h426/Grandview+fire+evening.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They named it the Grandview Fire. Husband took the above two photos. He sent them to a couple of local news stations and they were shown on TV. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>Our mountain view disappeared into the smokey haze ... which happens regularly here in the summer. But by the third day, the haze disappeared and we began to read news reports that, thankfully, the level of containment was growing and the fire had topped out at just over 6,000 acres. The firemen were winning. <span style="text-align: center;">(No homes were lost.)</span></p><p>We live on a 10,000+ acre peninsula of land, surrounded on the west, north, and east by vast canyons with rivers running along the base of each. I've come to really appreciate these natural firebreaks and this latest fire was on the other side of one of those canyons. I also appreciate that our local fire department has never lost one house in our community to a wild fire .... thus far. About twelve years ago, there was a wild fire close to where our home now sits, in fact there are a few charred stumps remaining on our property. Someone apparently had lost control of their burn pile. One neighbor said she saw an ember float up into a nearby tree which then erupted like a torch. This fire burned about ten acres and, as the neighbors tell it, the firemen camped close by for a week, just to be sure it was out. It burned mostly public land where, years later, it still looks ugly and scarred because no one is allowed to cut down the dead trees ..... (a moment to pause and, yet again, wonder about government bureaucrats).</p><p>So I now have a plan. If we ever have to evacuate, Husband and I will each drive one of our cars, and I have a list of items that will go into each vehicle. Instead of 72 hour kits, we have a 72+++ hour van that already contains a majority of the stuff we might need. I also ..... get this(!) ..... organized (mostly) our 45-year-old monster nest of random family photos into albums. Yes, it's true. I'm awarding myself Big Points for this latest project that I completed a few days ago, because it's been nagging me for years. <i>(So, to my posterity, next time you come to visit, you will find all the albums in the den, awaiting your viewing pleasure.) </i> And rest assured, said albums are on the evacuation list. I just hope we never have to use it.</p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-18258783846906815072021-07-09T17:00:00.003-07:002022-01-14T08:10:59.240-08:00Working out the bugs, AKA, projects are my sanity<p>We've now been on several outings in The Van, and the "bugs" are rising to the surface. But other than the latest bug, which is the need to add a second drain in the shower pan (which falls under the jurisdiction of Husband) ... I see them as opportunities. Another project! For a few more hours, or days, I have a purpose and a mission!</p><p>The shower drain issue first became evident when we were in Utah, boondocking* on a dirt road somewhere near the town of Toquerville. We were parked on a bit of a slant and the shower pan overflowed during my shower. A recessed shower pan in a van floor is a challenge because the total depth of the floor, including vinyl flooring, subfloor, and insulation, is about 1.75 inches thick. This translates to a very shallow shower pan, so level parking and efficient drainage are key. </p><p>Sometimes level parking, as much as we try, isn't always possible, so then fast and free-flowing drainage becomes even more important and our one little drain isn't quite up to the task. So Lucky Husband has a job. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Yay </span>....<span style="font-size: x-small;">? (Note: 2nd drain has since been added.)</span></p><p>I, on the other hand, LOVE projects (not to be confused with chores, which I dislike). I love designing, planning, executing, and admiring the results afterwards. Let me show you a few I've done since my last blog update, on my own, ofttimes using power tools. </p><p>Sun shades. No power tools this time ..... unless you count a sewing machine. I follow a YouTube video called "From She to Me", by Debbie who also travels in a van with her husband. Debbie is always doing little mods (modifications) to her van and is not the least bit intimidated by tools, mechanics, or pulling things apart and then putting them back together. Add to that, she cooks and sews. (I'm not sure what her husband does, other than hold the camera.) She made sun shades for her van so I made sun shades for my van. If Debbie can do it, I can too. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQixolI9LqcYNLb264w_y03NOg0lDCyJFTk9IVkaPkgaeJI51VEdSbpuZphqol7DTnml8QewLXCCs94vbwqVNrEYxK4WENuI2xZ90ncwfpX3v4bGRfkVBEf9Lt9Zm1H7SYpayBnEUHSH9t/s2592/IMG_2391.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1213" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQixolI9LqcYNLb264w_y03NOg0lDCyJFTk9IVkaPkgaeJI51VEdSbpuZphqol7DTnml8QewLXCCs94vbwqVNrEYxK4WENuI2xZ90ncwfpX3v4bGRfkVBEf9Lt9Zm1H7SYpayBnEUHSH9t/w640-h300/IMG_2391.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Held on by magnets<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>I ordered the screening from sailrite.com (like Debbie did) and found the edging tape on Amazon. We had shades like these for our motorhome which kept some of the sunlight and heat from coming though the cab windows, which are not tinted like the other windows. </p><p>I also installed clips to hold our broom under the sofa, clips to hold the long-handled squeegee, and more clips to hold the wand that unfurls our ....... (drumroll) ...... awning! Yes! Here's the story ..... </p><p>Months ago, Husband researched awnings and decided on a Thule model. We found it on Amazon and ordered it. A few days later, Amazon informed us it had shipped and gave a delivery date, but the shipping details were suspiciously vague. A few weeks later when that date arrived, Amazon emailed saying that it had NOT shipped and do we still want it? </p><p>Yes, we did. </p><p>Repeat the several-weeks-long process of vague shipment details, stated delivery date, and same inquiring email. </p><p>Finally we said No. Cancel order. </p><p>Husband contacted a dealer about 150 miles away who said they were getting the same runaround from Thule, so they had stopped selling that brand. <i>(Note: I blame Covid. Thule, a Swedish company, has a good reputation for quality products.) </i> This dealer did have Fiamma brand awnings which are very nice. Husband called them back and left a phone message saying we'd like one of their Fiammas. </p><p>A <i>few hours</i> after that phone call, a long box showed up on our driveway. Inside was a Thule awning. From Amazon.</p><p>We opened the box to discover it was a different Thule model, which comes with brackets that do not fit our van .... in fact, this particular model is not even sold in this hemisphere! I contacted Amazon to tell them that we did not order this awning. Their answer: We can keep it or dispose of it. No charge. (This is a $1200 awning.)</p><p>Now this would be a dilemma for anyone who doesn't have the resources to make custom mounting brackets. (Insert Brilliant Machinist Husband here. Ha!) So the end result is we have a beautiful awning that fits our van and the total cost was about $15. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">score,</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> score, SCORE!)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65pZwd6BJj5OCe5v5bSY_H4nI73eDllONbVbEQH0_LHX9LfjW7MVrdqi4-INnMtycQ6h8xdJuZ1NBePqFSjrPXlShXZ3wmpQUaygpBeez-U3Ok62JXU54KXJOjFtIxBtArAWsdANbPOou/s1649/IMG_2396.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="1649" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg65pZwd6BJj5OCe5v5bSY_H4nI73eDllONbVbEQH0_LHX9LfjW7MVrdqi4-INnMtycQ6h8xdJuZ1NBePqFSjrPXlShXZ3wmpQUaygpBeez-U3Ok62JXU54KXJOjFtIxBtArAWsdANbPOou/w640-h430/IMG_2396.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Back to my own little mods, which now pale after that last story.</p><p>I sleep on the side of the bed (in the van) that is against the back doors and needed a place to stick my phone, earbuds, and other necessities. So I designed and made a wooden, felt-lined box attached to a board that slides under the mattress. I call it my nightstand.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGYMw8RXk9QPGySYMUN0e1GEnh7E5Na-ADuDkOOUZD3RBGHrirvirXz3bMxz069k1cYWaSZ9f_n1SnlagAoycFnjdk5ig77bkrseQBwidACGC-0KIyXN-jmqkf40PIxarDrC2mAFmZSMp/s2048/IMG_2394.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGYMw8RXk9QPGySYMUN0e1GEnh7E5Na-ADuDkOOUZD3RBGHrirvirXz3bMxz069k1cYWaSZ9f_n1SnlagAoycFnjdk5ig77bkrseQBwidACGC-0KIyXN-jmqkf40PIxarDrC2mAFmZSMp/w400-h300/IMG_2394.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p>I pull it out when I change the bedding, then stick it back in. </p><p>Also, I made another wooden box/shelf for holding small items .... along with key hooks, which I attached to one of our cabinets. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrH4ArmeFDji7sNES9qD1rJICK2Os-YxBTlekcBevgCHRhrI9Euf5hMO0tLoNhrE1pJjQu33hB9sYVP_L5WSdsOP6sbygHDCLJgJNwr5t6sQiA3m6I-pziOEjuRtm6AYvgUsesGT32ZGr/s2048/IMG_2393.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVrH4ArmeFDji7sNES9qD1rJICK2Os-YxBTlekcBevgCHRhrI9Euf5hMO0tLoNhrE1pJjQu33hB9sYVP_L5WSdsOP6sbygHDCLJgJNwr5t6sQiA3m6I-pziOEjuRtm6AYvgUsesGT32ZGr/w400-h300/IMG_2393.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Mind you, these involved: </p><p><span> </span>1. a table saw </p><p><span> </span>2. a power sander </p><p><span> </span>3. clamps, and </p><p><span> </span>4. a power drill </p><p>No help from Husband. In fact, he wasn't even home. (Probably golfing.) <span style="font-size: x-small;">"I am woman, hear me roar ..."</span></p><p>I hung more hooks because we can never have enough. And husband completed the trim pieces inside. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG7ES09zANgEQ9I1rkbIb-76KU4KXkknuSn_Vfk9zkscFfP0S44fo_h2hlukVVHbeHEwZMLm4kM0vcLQ8rdog65VnhFWNNzX0qJ8hvtySEbL1Ko8aw3uv9vQUNB2kPpHqx9u2RqFHhFSu/s2048/IMG_2392.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG7ES09zANgEQ9I1rkbIb-76KU4KXkknuSn_Vfk9zkscFfP0S44fo_h2hlukVVHbeHEwZMLm4kM0vcLQ8rdog65VnhFWNNzX0qJ8hvtySEbL1Ko8aw3uv9vQUNB2kPpHqx9u2RqFHhFSu/w400-h300/IMG_2392.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>All that's left before the van is deemed FINISHED are three outside lights. (Mods, by the way, do not count. May they live on forevermore.)</p><p>So back to those "bugs" .....</p><p>It would be an understatement to say the weather has been hot. As you may recall, we installed an evaporative cooler in the van ceiling. But apparently it requires not being parked in the blazing afternoon sun. A few days ago we had to park in an unfortunate shadeless position, with the rear of the van getting the full brunt. Husband, using one of those temperature-measuring laser gun thingies, (you point it at something and it tells you how hot it is.) measured the temp of the metal on the inside of our rear doors. 120 degrees! (Hmmm. I personally insulated those doors.) Anyway, too much for our little ceiling cooler. Soooooo, I'm now trying to design a way to shield portions of the van exterior (where the awning isn't) that may be exposed to a solar onslaught. (Note: We since purchased a second detachable and movable awning to cover in-the-hot-sun areas where the main awning doesn't reach.)</p><p>Another project! My sanity will happily endure yet another day. </p><p style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>*Boondocking -- RV camping without plugging into electricity or hooking up to water. Being completely off-grid and self-contained. </p><p> </p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-35827624516247990322021-05-28T18:06:00.008-07:002022-02-05T11:14:39.386-08:00It's Done (for the most part) <p> So, do I wait until it's 100% ... down-to-the-last-detail .... finished? Or just go ahead and show the 99% complete version? Since the vast majority of friends and fam have already seen it, I guess it doesn't really matter. And this blog is due for another post.</p><p>So here goes ...... The <span style="font-size: x-small;">Almost</span> Finished Van! (Note: See this <a href="https://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2021/07/working-out-bugs-aka-projects-are-my.html"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">post</span></a> for the finishing touches.)</p><p>But first. </p><p>In our defense, the outside stuff (namely, the exterior lights, of which there will be three) must wait for the awning, which is on backorder. </p><p>That said .....</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5rVlNZr5sDO1uNkqe4hHBErdVSkYl1TcfErCrlgus-VDs6HlRzySp-PmeedSpDgDraeFQ-UmxP7m-uh3Kj8d9AYarWVhPoO9GwxD5YN2OlT4m6TEi4yhmXxSwu16Nzoj3gSbvt9pKesX/s2048/IMG_2319.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5rVlNZr5sDO1uNkqe4hHBErdVSkYl1TcfErCrlgus-VDs6HlRzySp-PmeedSpDgDraeFQ-UmxP7m-uh3Kj8d9AYarWVhPoO9GwxD5YN2OlT4m6TEi4yhmXxSwu16Nzoj3gSbvt9pKesX/w640-h480/IMG_2319.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The newest addition is the bug screen at the door. You just push through at the center and the sewn-in magnets cause it to close on its own ..... sort of ...... with a little help. Atop the van are solar panels totaling 630 watts.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoX271jPtKsxOsK5wkX21GAgzvoh4Ntm79-213R8f8hdy2bhez9kBv9HK3VpBhEr7tLCN3S7BJYZSdQL5aZ8PrORJHwkeywErsN_rf8Zu39XntWQLSkAfR5HuODHPx9TSwRne4Th6CHHao/s800/_MG_6270.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoX271jPtKsxOsK5wkX21GAgzvoh4Ntm79-213R8f8hdy2bhez9kBv9HK3VpBhEr7tLCN3S7BJYZSdQL5aZ8PrORJHwkeywErsN_rf8Zu39XntWQLSkAfR5HuODHPx9TSwRne4Th6CHHao/w640-h426/_MG_6270.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Under the lower cabinet on the left, we keep the trash, kitchen storage, and next to the bed is our closet. That same cabinet also contains our 30 gallon fresh water tank, fillable from the back of the cabinet, just inside the slider door. Under the bed is a small sliding door to access the garage.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVd3gAlQjQrL_WLv2gS7jaJkqR4rgg4JsHfkhWujzbm7XhytbhSilSmGPdy2jPEesvJX9vcL2SEY79GLZe4T5TlaO5pqKfuT7K8YrbRSGgZOSOY2hJTSfHJKOfMNBRTFqlPIW5kQY45sq/s2048/IMG_2332.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVd3gAlQjQrL_WLv2gS7jaJkqR4rgg4JsHfkhWujzbm7XhytbhSilSmGPdy2jPEesvJX9vcL2SEY79GLZe4T5TlaO5pqKfuT7K8YrbRSGgZOSOY2hJTSfHJKOfMNBRTFqlPIW5kQY45sq/w480-h640/IMG_2332.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That table moves in multiple directions. Its top is from the same butcher block used for our countertop. The sofa includes seat belts for two, and the driver and passenger seats up front (not in view) swivel to face backwards to create our "living room". The dog sleeps under the sofa.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaE8KNKPs4VGccFC7OD1F4bRn69kuwx8l3ZWTAx0zEf5t5n2NKBSa3GP7zxImzWtgHtvHtDEMBQpEs2SMywFUAfbK1vMvOZM5rNIQ4Ca2f5Vq0flHnYrWp0Mj_73kAdOTZvo76gpbyIN5/s800/_MG_6271.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQaE8KNKPs4VGccFC7OD1F4bRn69kuwx8l3ZWTAx0zEf5t5n2NKBSa3GP7zxImzWtgHtvHtDEMBQpEs2SMywFUAfbK1vMvOZM5rNIQ4Ca2f5Vq0flHnYrWp0Mj_73kAdOTZvo76gpbyIN5/w640-h426/_MG_6271.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mirrors are acrylic. The tile backsplash is very realistic peel n' stick tiles. (Light weight is important.) In the ceiling above the bed is an evaporative cooler, which requires much less power than a regular air conditioner. Hopefully it'll do the trick. Under the passenger seat in the cab is our heater that is fueled by the diesel from the van's tank. It keeps us plenty warm in cold weather.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JE2KDu4mcxlAP-87bwidr9n-yCn3WPq9oD9tu6UStQjP0TJLoh1ortub8mHsgHb-fGl3KQfwb9Dv7Pdd8ItBu4zA2ym6C0VAh-FDfQALlh9csU1-EV0yqlIvARjgF3Aw9LNUPPdTyYdG/s800/_MG_6278.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="800" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JE2KDu4mcxlAP-87bwidr9n-yCn3WPq9oD9tu6UStQjP0TJLoh1ortub8mHsgHb-fGl3KQfwb9Dv7Pdd8ItBu4zA2ym6C0VAh-FDfQALlh9csU1-EV0yqlIvARjgF3Aw9LNUPPdTyYdG/w640-h454/_MG_6278.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The walls are covered either with shiplap or vinyl-upholstered panels. The ceiling is tongue-and-groove cedar.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWyLif9A1QKPObOlytgckkl2D5_oDIjVUfrQRn3GeGK9onJxpoLJUotyDY8dXLyD1nRtRVDQEwSTzzvOhyJ29O0cyMYVEqsB2Ck3W18Nh0u8FZOn5n38gzi_FE_zhNKimyi2oj7QErUqe/s800/_MG_6276.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWyLif9A1QKPObOlytgckkl2D5_oDIjVUfrQRn3GeGK9onJxpoLJUotyDY8dXLyD1nRtRVDQEwSTzzvOhyJ29O0cyMYVEqsB2Ck3W18Nh0u8FZOn5n38gzi_FE_zhNKimyi2oj7QErUqe/w640-h426/_MG_6276.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "garage". It includes an outdoor shower. Lots of electrical and plumbing guts behind those panels, including 560 amp hour lithium batteries (that Husband built himself, saving $$$), a 3000 watt inverter, and a 2.5 gallon water heater. We can plug into an outside power source, but probably will never need to. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>The grandkids named it Eddie VAN Halen ...... which likely won't stick because nicknames don't last long around here (sad to say, because I come from a family with a rich history of embarrassing/endearing nicknames). To us, it's just The Van.</p><p>As I said in a previous post, there are a bazillion ideas and how-tos for building a DIY camper van on YouTube, so a lot of what we did was copied from other vans. But the one feature that is original (thought up by moi) is our shower. (And it works perfectly ..... except for once when we were parked on a slant and the shower pan overflowed a little. A lesson learned about being level.) Vans like ours, if they have a bathroom at all, have what's called a "wet bath". This means the toilet resides in the shower and will get wet along with you. This is a necessity since there's only 84 square feet of space and a separate shower would mean giving up something rather important, like the kitchen .... You just have to remember to remove the TP roll first, obviously. Afterwards, a little squeegee-ing and you're good to go ..... figuratively and (I suppose) literally ..... </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6UUcbx-Lr-QXmtsB9dIuSOhzIZ8gGdQwV2925mWvJ8e94big2HtwAWP5clftrZTYiC6bqaHDjxonDDNkz3Kc93_LMIAW4V9-F_ZMKazTD4bl6K06Nj1dV9ICFW92VnV7RkAvOQuyKRW1/s800/_MG_6273.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="533" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6UUcbx-Lr-QXmtsB9dIuSOhzIZ8gGdQwV2925mWvJ8e94big2HtwAWP5clftrZTYiC6bqaHDjxonDDNkz3Kc93_LMIAW4V9-F_ZMKazTD4bl6K06Nj1dV9ICFW92VnV7RkAvOQuyKRW1/w426-h640/_MG_6273.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What you see when you first open the bathroom doors. The shower walls are formica. The curtain pulls out for privacy and/or showers. And that toilet flushes into a 14 gallon black tank. (No composting or porta-potties here.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnB0eAnSibawfx-yLuANxmGsYv9E8RUZzKW6D9BMjNrgmP6SHvljgzUBMFg2q-kyyqP3r5DLvclsbn7n9ObZVXWrNUH0fT4mvWbYe-GX0W-ZxPoeffcQcAdtnhrRp1HxC-dffm5B_Ti_oB/s2048/IMG_2335.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnB0eAnSibawfx-yLuANxmGsYv9E8RUZzKW6D9BMjNrgmP6SHvljgzUBMFg2q-kyyqP3r5DLvclsbn7n9ObZVXWrNUH0fT4mvWbYe-GX0W-ZxPoeffcQcAdtnhrRp1HxC-dffm5B_Ti_oB/w480-h640/IMG_2335.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For showers, we fold back the rug and insert these plastic strips which hold the curtain in place. Husband hand-crafted that teak grate with neither nails or screws. (He's rather proud of it.) Below that is a fiberglass shower pan (also handmade by Husband) with a drain that sends all water to an 18 gallon tank under the van. <span style="text-align: left;">(Note: A second drain hole has since been added to the shower to prevent any overflowing if we're on a slight slant.)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM40sernJO2trqlFNTKXPtvt1UfslB9dOfmqVFzRUVuTWxUTeIZsZgtI22mVn7-6X0VtSOc3Klts_BWUoukn-HD516BsQJu0SE2ZLDpJ7CkY-DV7Xys2dmWS3SAdV7OiSUifvwRmyeASZa/s2048/IMG_2336.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM40sernJO2trqlFNTKXPtvt1UfslB9dOfmqVFzRUVuTWxUTeIZsZgtI22mVn7-6X0VtSOc3Klts_BWUoukn-HD516BsQJu0SE2ZLDpJ7CkY-DV7Xys2dmWS3SAdV7OiSUifvwRmyeASZa/w480-h640/IMG_2336.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shower curtain holds together with magnets. It's quite roomy in there.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The van has become my new Happy Place. It'll be where I mentally go when sitting in the dentist's chair, or in any other place of potential dread. When I disappear at home, Husband knows where to find me. A few days ago, I even took it out BY MYSELF and camped in the woods for one night ...... ALONE. I don't have to hitch or tow anything and it's easy to park ..... in other words, no man needed. I can do this whenever I want ..... (No need to worry about the Husband being left behind. At the time, he was hours away, happily standing in a river, holding a fishing pole.) </p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-19573408367071615442021-04-12T13:11:00.001-07:002022-11-12T11:17:41.632-08:00Surrounded by the Stupids<p>Don't get me wrong. There are great people where we live. We have some of the best neighbors we've ever had .... and I mean The Best. If we aren't here to haul our empty trashcan back up our driveway after the garbage collector has come by, there is no stopping Best Neighbors from doing it for us. Last week we were planning to be out of town so I asked if they'd just move it up by our trailer, only a few steps from the road ..... but no .... they took it all the way up to our house. And there's no talking them out of it. If we need help with anything, they're here in a flash. And we try to reciprocate. </p><p>Other neighbors come by unannounced to help clear our driveway after a deep snowfall. Another neighbor stopped by after it had snowed to check on us because they hadn't seen our car tracks in a couple of days. Wonderful, caring people.</p><p>But unfortunately there are also the Stupids, meaning random brain-dead idiots who either live here or drive in to spread their *joy*. Public land, where there aren't enough eyes per square mile to keep watch over things, seems to attract them and they take full advantage. </p><p>The Stupids dump or leave their trash, without a thought as to who will have to clean it up. And I'm not just talking about average litter, but major dumping ..... furniture, cars, used paraphernalia, and the remains of lustful, drunken nights. Either they're narcissistic, or lazy, or simply scum ..... or all three. </p><p>I have one neighbor whose trash enjoys entangling itself across my property whenever it's windy and the prevailing wind seems to always come from their direction. I have to go out every few weeks and gather it up, except for the plastic shopping bags stuck in the trees that I cannot reach. No, I haven't spoken to them yet and yes, I need to. They also let their dogs roam freely which usually isn't a problem, but it freaks out our dog. They're somewhat new and needless to say, I dearly miss the sweet neighbor who used to live there who managed to keep her trash and dogs contained.</p><p>The Stupids also drive crazily. Now maybe it's my imagination that it's particularly bad out here, but I am literally more fearful to drive on local highways here than where I used to live where there were more cars! The accidents here where the roads are less crowded are frequent and inexplicable. Pulling out in front of a truck in broad daylight <i>in light traffic</i> ..... how do you explain that? And many of the accidents are fatal. </p><p>I just read on Facebook that the Stupids were out target shooting on local public land and a woman, who was out walking her dog, noticed bullets flying past her and she had to hit the ground and shout that she was there!! This will probably lead to all shooting on public land being prohibited which means the responsible gun owners will go elsewhere, leaving only the Stupids who don't care about rules or anything else. Hence, they will win ... again. </p><p>There are rants aplenty in local Facebook groups, but I doubt the Stupids read it, so it's all preaching to the choir. Sad to say, my opinion of people has declined in the last few years. I never saw this amount of trash when we lived in the burbs. I never had to walk along my road to pick up garbage, including multiple whiskey bottles tossed out of cars. I don't remember seeing so many paint marks on the roads, marking the pattern of the latest crash. In town, there are too many eyes ready to report anything amiss, so it's not as easy to flaunt stupidity. </p><p>I like living in the country. I like the privacy and space. I like the clean air. I'm grateful I'm not in the city, and the hideous mess that many of them have become. (Particularly Portland, Oregon, my childhood home. We recently drove through there on the freeway, and it's a jaw-dropping heartbreak to see what that once beautiful city has become. That, in my opinion, is the result of the Government Stupids in league with the Street Stupids, while ignoring the good people footing the bill.) The Stupids ruin it for everyone. </p><p>So I try, between trash cleanups, to not get too angry and focus on the good people. Like most of our neighbors ..... the people who help keep public land and roads clean and safe. The people who basically care about others. ..... the people who aren't stupid. </p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-46837839697324859452021-01-31T14:06:00.017-08:002022-01-14T07:24:19.653-08:00Van project update*<p>*Note the total honesty and transparency in this post's title, so as to avoid being accused of trying to lure you into reading my blog with a salacious headline like ..... "On The Brink!", or ..... "Almost DIED!" .... or "The Dog Threw Up!!!!!" ..... then doing the ol' bait-n-switch to the same-old-same-old that is our life lately. </p><p>Because the truth is .... we are best described as Boring-R-Us. No traveling. No grave illnesses .... (that we know of, knock on wood). No grand epiphanies. Besides getting progressively older and fatter, we just work on a van. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUl2X4VtR9x-vo4r9FSeIPAFMsZzUPG4SruY_0XtA0ZyKV1mK6WDT1Jf_oUDI4vF9tCddQNgCc7Q-wHOo-x6hA2DN1X3LDeIiqau4yVQmquVTsOGk5MciT0k-xKq8g5UZ52rcIHPPN91j/s2048/IMG_2202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUl2X4VtR9x-vo4r9FSeIPAFMsZzUPG4SruY_0XtA0ZyKV1mK6WDT1Jf_oUDI4vF9tCddQNgCc7Q-wHOo-x6hA2DN1X3LDeIiqau4yVQmquVTsOGk5MciT0k-xKq8g5UZ52rcIHPPN91j/w640-h480/IMG_2202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>So ..... the update --</p><p>We have a floor! </p><p>Walls! </p><p>Some outlets!</p><p>Wiring!!!!! (This one gets special recognition because it has been the Mt. Everest of endless slogging along, holding up a LOT of the more interesting parts of this build. Who knew that this much wire would go into 84 square feet???</p><p>The tanks (all four of them) are permanently installed!</p><p>Husband made, out of fiberglass, a custom shower pan. It took the better part of a week to make, and turned out perfectly. I will explain why it sits in our hallway, later. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-09K3QmiQabMhyphenhyphenV3b8FjzNVAXXYBy-0hdjLr2kWp5R7MTSh6vkIaSgQL-RnIcKdtI7K3NTaEUFB7GCofHf0BHxHlNPjFFdVfvdMy9UUdgVAPUnDl0rbTNaOIj2vQLKwJeGdOO7NoXbLVf/s2048/IMG_2197.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-09K3QmiQabMhyphenhyphenV3b8FjzNVAXXYBy-0hdjLr2kWp5R7MTSh6vkIaSgQL-RnIcKdtI7K3NTaEUFB7GCofHf0BHxHlNPjFFdVfvdMy9UUdgVAPUnDl0rbTNaOIj2vQLKwJeGdOO7NoXbLVf/w480-h640/IMG_2197.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;">Going clockwise, starting at the left -- the kitchen galley with our fresh water tank at the base of it. (The last third of that cabinet will be our closet.) Then in the rear is the bed area. (That glow is our portable light) Then, coming around on the right next to the bed, is the fridge/microwave cabinet. Then the bathroom, with the shower pan in the hall. Further clockwise will be the sofa & table.</i><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><i style="text-align: left;"> The weird silver stuff on the walls/ceiling is insulation & vapor barrier. Upper cabinets yet to come.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigWeHVY3CbwoKixLqOjAYO9USIJFt_3ZK59ZphrGorur9a3WmrTXcbq53qWvSOh6JGGrZVomtTfKZsBVz8TBXyu00hjfB9jw1COkgOF5whQPZeuXmzGr1mX3jU6w9OsfDahnrejvtppNh/s2048/IMG_2188.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigWeHVY3CbwoKixLqOjAYO9USIJFt_3ZK59ZphrGorur9a3WmrTXcbq53qWvSOh6JGGrZVomtTfKZsBVz8TBXyu00hjfB9jw1COkgOF5whQPZeuXmzGr1mX3jU6w9OsfDahnrejvtppNh/s320/IMG_2188.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The guts, AKA the Mother Ship. This is in the back, under where the bed will go. Van people call it the garage. Lots of storage space in there for bikes, kayak, camp chairs, etc.</i><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>I am sewing insulated window covers and five of the nine are looking like they won't need to be ripped apart and reworked for the umpteenth time. I, the experienced seamstress, went into this smugly, as I observed other DIY van window covers on YouTube. Pshaw, thought I. I will show them how it's done. But .... alas .... I have been thoroughly humbled and now, the price of the professionally sewn ones on Etsy (upwards to $1500 for a set) seems entirely reasonable.</p><p>Our fridge is no longer on back order and will soon be on its way! </p><p>Let's see .... what else ..... the water heater and pump are installed. I'm sure I'm forgetting some of it ...</p><p>Oh! Our flarespaces are painted! Explanation: If you ever notice a Sprinter van with odd bulges where the rear side widows would go, these are brilliant inventions that allow anyone over 5-1/2 ft tall to sleep sideways comfortably in a van. They essentially widen the van where the bed will go. (Otherwise the bed would have to be front to back, taking up too much valuable space.) Did that make sense? The flarespaces must be painted by the customer to match their particular van color. To save time, we paid a guy to paint ours and they look even better than the van's paint job. (He'd love to paint Husband's race car and wanted to "show what he could do".) Our's will have windows in them, which said windows are currently on back order, so they (the flarespaces) wait patiently on one of our guest beds. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXRkcf0n_v1psIuP5mRgGCIcgtMQi5naIkhPdGYzKkVSMOpZNJNIO8zlBPN44dfnQOG0eVS8lQbwSiZtlrPfWoXLUZowMw3UaX4Rq2kpCRUkLP3quYFhK4PCjDORhG4jy5KRXA1BKR8Kv/s2048/IMG_2201.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXRkcf0n_v1psIuP5mRgGCIcgtMQi5naIkhPdGYzKkVSMOpZNJNIO8zlBPN44dfnQOG0eVS8lQbwSiZtlrPfWoXLUZowMw3UaX4Rq2kpCRUkLP3quYFhK4PCjDORhG4jy5KRXA1BKR8Kv/w400-h300/IMG_2201.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>When the windows finally arrive, two massive holes will be cut in the sides of our van to facilitate the installation. T'will be a terrifying/exciting day, to say the least. Here's a picture from online: (Note-- this picture only works in the web version, and probably not on your phone. If you're REALLY interested, you can go <span style="color: #ff00fe;"><a href="https://www.flarespace.com"><span style="color: #ff00fe;">here</span></a>.</span>)</p><p><img alt="Flarespace, Interior Accessories | Go Adventure Van, Sprinters, Sportsmobile, Adventure Vans" class="detail__media__img-highres js-detail-img js-detail-img-high" src="https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=http%3A%2F%2Fgoadventurevan.com%2Fsites%2Fdefault%2Ffiles%2Fstyles%2Fbanner%2Fpublic%2F2018-11%2FFlarespace_Elementum_adventure_vehicles_vanlife_sprinter_mercedes.jpg%3Fitok%3D1lLOlVFP&f=1&nofb=1" style="display: block; height: 237.6px; width: 594px;" /></p><p><br /></p><p>As usual, Husband is the Daily Super Hero. I come up with the wants and ideas, and he figures out how to make them. He works long into the night after I've gone to bed and then in the mornings, I go down to the shop to see what Santa made. Amazon has transformed many days into Christmas, as the boxes arrive en masse. A sink! Faucet! Multiple unrecognizable fittings and metal thingies. Then shower curtains! A rug! (That one was a little premature, but Amazon only had two of my color left.) More unrecognizable fittings and metal thingies. Then drawer pulls! A shower head! And then more Husband-ordered stuff .... and on it goes. Things pile up around the house as it all waits its turn to be installed. </p><p>So that's it. We love it. But we are self-admitted geeks. You may not be. I get that. Our friendship will not suffer if you don't share in our geekiness ..... maybe. No promises. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-32808952638894986112020-12-06T13:19:00.011-08:002022-01-14T07:24:29.884-08:00Time flies <p>So what have we been doing? (asks hardly anyone)</p><p>1. Patiently waiting out covid.</p><p>2. Staying home A LOT. (Not really minding it.)</p><p>3. Same old, same old.</p><p>4. Building our camper van (AKA tiny home on wheels) ..... Yes!</p><p>Okay, so, now that we're on the subject ..... </p><p>We picked up our Sprinter van in late October. It's an empty "cargo" style, with nothing behind the driver and passenger seat. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfzfmO3Bnn_pdEc5XFuhFhwiRjxAfOkeud2BEOIk_-ZmLFJ5X7Ff53rnpmOCm3ZuroxJTkJpVuoGOTGF6H8rYpRBnxuMfmEqzPARHmBUGErtdmxuu4amFSOTLEiQdW0OTFmIQq7F_Qtmf/s2048/IMG_2050.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfzfmO3Bnn_pdEc5XFuhFhwiRjxAfOkeud2BEOIk_-ZmLFJ5X7Ff53rnpmOCm3ZuroxJTkJpVuoGOTGF6H8rYpRBnxuMfmEqzPARHmBUGErtdmxuu4amFSOTLEiQdW0OTFmIQq7F_Qtmf/w400-h300/IMG_2050.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOj_iplxa1QN6cMG9VD4jgYl2mjFuuWcd-EiyQOd1VXDeSxFXK0c4vIEo9t3xhQc7KnXMi17w915lLIbxjNS5pB8HxCFwPzYhPH0ikztv3aMG3nZvfR2KoezNxKBgt1jxBH1rVdLecCH_e/s2048/IMG_2052.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOj_iplxa1QN6cMG9VD4jgYl2mjFuuWcd-EiyQOd1VXDeSxFXK0c4vIEo9t3xhQc7KnXMi17w915lLIbxjNS5pB8HxCFwPzYhPH0ikztv3aMG3nZvfR2KoezNxKBgt1jxBH1rVdLecCH_e/w300-h400/IMG_2052.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div>And the fun begins. Sort of.</div><div><br /></div><div>We began with some of the insulation, then cutting holes in the roof for an air conditioner and a fan, which are installed.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BczkaWyy1RPS_DicaB7zb5bgsDmVZMVP6BBLQGha-xNFMww_u4oiCxK0wBFL05fGNAQIkxxbK5Fz3Hsr7ZuP4NorNDvqdovo3sTIBLFUUsN7E3dPYWzydbQxQtRohZNSXS8rRW_cET7V/s2048/IMG_2059.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BczkaWyy1RPS_DicaB7zb5bgsDmVZMVP6BBLQGha-xNFMww_u4oiCxK0wBFL05fGNAQIkxxbK5Fz3Hsr7ZuP4NorNDvqdovo3sTIBLFUUsN7E3dPYWzydbQxQtRohZNSXS8rRW_cET7V/w400-h300/IMG_2059.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><i><br /></i><div><i>(Note: When I say "we" ... just know, it's more likely "he". I am primarily the gopher.)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>To date: </div><div>~The subfloor is down, including insulation below it.</div><div>~The heater is installed .... and it works! This nifty little thing will be fueled by the same diesel that fuels the vehicle. </div><div>~The black tank is in place. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRcpfvARRVpaU6i7n6GbApuaq5LLRHC_BdAmcXkp_-BrtQhcz3nW2IO08q5jvgNIz60zBYJ7ivcViGdyHL7lMSkJzR3a_8UQSTkeeZNimA1_-Z3VkSBNnnnp3uuaVfdhzsjg7HWf0LeQn/s2048/IMG_2135.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRcpfvARRVpaU6i7n6GbApuaq5LLRHC_BdAmcXkp_-BrtQhcz3nW2IO08q5jvgNIz60zBYJ7ivcViGdyHL7lMSkJzR3a_8UQSTkeeZNimA1_-Z3VkSBNnnnp3uuaVfdhzsjg7HWf0LeQn/s320/IMG_2135.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not glamorous, but will be highly appreciated in the middle of the night, if you know what I mean.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>~The roof is mostly insulated.</div><div>~The brackets to hold the solar panels on the roof are made by Brilliant Machinist Husband and waiting to be anodized (colored black for appearance) .... after which the solar panels will move permanently onto the roof.</div><div>~The paneling is varnished, ready for the ceiling. (It's cedar and how pretty is THIS?!)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aaRBBuy9keGeB3pf5IzrRacqhMWZOsYADsjhKferjzTJpUW4sN9ZqZGGRA3ektb4wg17fVN0mlolmAP4mGh_Uo1sf8flhVcZpylY0q_Wo-fp63G3It8Uv4NHLc2TSgqF9p8IbtlJFt7T/s2048/IMG_2150.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aaRBBuy9keGeB3pf5IzrRacqhMWZOsYADsjhKferjzTJpUW4sN9ZqZGGRA3ektb4wg17fVN0mlolmAP4mGh_Uo1sf8flhVcZpylY0q_Wo-fp63G3It8Uv4NHLc2TSgqF9p8IbtlJFt7T/w300-h400/IMG_2150.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /> ~The skeletal framework of the kitchen cabinet, which will hold our sink, cooktop, drawers, and our closet, is built. Husband is using something called 80/20, which is like an aluminum erector set. It will be strong and light weight. All the cabinets and inner walls in the van will be framed in this. The fronts and sides will be wood. (Yet to be installed.)</div><div>~Framework for the upper cabinets is done, also yet to be installed.</div><div>~Wooden panel upon which the Mother Ship of electrical components will be mounted, is painted and in.</div><div>~There's a lovely piece of unfinished butcher block countertop waiting in our garage. (Black Friday sale!)</div><div>~Also acquired and waiting for installation -- one toilet, one fresh water tank, one gray water tank. A dozen other things are sitting in our Amazon cart, and the fridge is (stupid covid) on back order.</div><div><br /></div><div>Other than that, it's still a largely empty looking van and to my dismay, a long way from when I can start picking out decorative pillows. </div><div><br /></div><div>But oh, the planning. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have spent hours and hours AND HOURS discussing, brainstorming, figuring out ..... Typical conversation: </div><div><span> </span>Me: When can we install the A? (Meaning anything noticeable, interesting, or pretty)</div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>Him: After we install the B. (Something boring, like a wire or cable)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>But before that, we have to install C and D. (Similarly boring)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>And we can't install D until we install A.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>Me: <<i>sigh></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>There is no manual for this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Too often we are held up by some part that we then have to order and wait for. (Amazon is a vital part of this build so please don't talk to me about Jeff Bezos' politics. I don't want to know.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Needless to say, it's a slow process. Thank goodness we are not pioneers in this. Many have blazed this trail already and have kindly shared their valuable knowledge on YouTube. <span>(I don't want to hear about YouTube's politics either. <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Closing eyes, covering ears, and humming</span></i>.)</span> Whoever the first intrepid soul was to built his van into a tiny home, definitely deserves a plaque in some hallowed hall somewhere. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuiq4hC8hjSxZWqWDTenOInzAvJSUfhF11ykhge9dOGKQYZjGxmGJcfSoXbDW32LVlUjv8d7uWjBDzD_bhulJeZbGYHjQHnsIlol6ziruz0xIikr6V0BDuTe5lct1N8McH-OPyRTYe1Cw/s2048/IMG_2130.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuiq4hC8hjSxZWqWDTenOInzAvJSUfhF11ykhge9dOGKQYZjGxmGJcfSoXbDW32LVlUjv8d7uWjBDzD_bhulJeZbGYHjQHnsIlol6ziruz0xIikr6V0BDuTe5lct1N8McH-OPyRTYe1Cw/w300-h400/IMG_2130.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making sure his solar panel brackets will fit. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>So there you go. Unless you're interested in "vanlife" (it's a thing) I probably lost you a few paragraphs ago. But to us, it's terribly exciting. We've been planning this for a long time and we're dreaming of the road trips ahead .... Alaska, east coast, back to Utah's canyons .... again ... (the attraction will not die), and much more. Our daughter calls it the "visiting-the-grandkids-van", which will likely be its main purpose. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-32205414313969932192020-08-23T12:01:00.060-07:002022-11-12T11:18:06.586-08:00Winnie the Poop (dedicated to anyone who loves a dog)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I grew up around dachshunds but never owned one. After we officially entered the "empty nester" stage, my thoughts ventured to a puppy ..... which defies ALL good sense and logic... possibly bordering on insanity. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I tried "rescuing" a beagle-dachshund mix which, after a few months, didn't work out. A year later, I tried a chihuahua-dachshund mix (also a rescue) which didn't work out either. (Seeing a theme here?) I won't go into the <i>reasons</i> for my failures but they were legit and different with each, and I did my best to find good homes for them. I then swore off dogs forever.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Several years later and after moving into our current home, in spite of my fear of a third failure, I began to feel it again ..... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This time I wanted an <i>actual </i>full-on dachshund. <i>(Any dachshund owner who might be reading this, gets it.)</i> I had tried the rescue route. I mean, I<i> really</i> tried. Finding a non-mixed version of this breed at a rescue shelter is very unlikely and with my fence-less yard, I wouldn't qualify anyway.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I eventually found what appeared to be a reputable (and affordable) breeder up near Seattle. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After several email exchanges and waiting till the proper age of eight weeks when it's safe to separate puppy from mother, we drove north to get this ........... </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNaCgaz1IiOG7-pY1DUt16wJbfJypEuCmtOkA39RHCJpXB5OvTn5GBRC8Kb9KYyzbMFBE6j4O8_lxHsPSqwMdeTPnNWUP-zRP-GT-ud3XUfcGBPG0lWjAovD8Yuoc5bM1Z4YqUnD3EJA8b/s1064/IMG_E0837.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="937" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNaCgaz1IiOG7-pY1DUt16wJbfJypEuCmtOkA39RHCJpXB5OvTn5GBRC8Kb9KYyzbMFBE6j4O8_lxHsPSqwMdeTPnNWUP-zRP-GT-ud3XUfcGBPG0lWjAovD8Yuoc5bM1Z4YqUnD3EJA8b/s640/IMG_E0837.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See?? Prepare to be dragged against your will into dachshund-obsession with me.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Meet Winnie.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">She weighed all of four pounds and spent much of the six-hour drive home burrowed between my neck and the headrest. (Dachshunds are burrowers. Even now, if you lean forward on the sofa at our house, you will soon find a small dog wedged behind your back.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">)</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrFqQB4wj3Qo-9KAFTjeDFtvys93oyf8nIqESMwsv4MYIAG8bTZLch2dRKZIw7VNt-a_svdbSlYIWgDiiqzKkjE0Nzw_dF-WtxvKvhLPYeQyRvIl0Z3c5ePptk5jIYV-5DvNZRRDeWUEv/s2048/IMG_0855.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1838" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrFqQB4wj3Qo-9KAFTjeDFtvys93oyf8nIqESMwsv4MYIAG8bTZLch2dRKZIw7VNt-a_svdbSlYIWgDiiqzKkjE0Nzw_dF-WtxvKvhLPYeQyRvIl0Z3c5ePptk5jIYV-5DvNZRRDeWUEv/s640/IMG_0855.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Admit it, this is CUTE.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">All too aware of my apprehensions, Dear Supportive Husband assured me that Winnie is OUR dog, and that he would help. And he did. In fact, today they are BFFs. HE is the one who wants to bring her along wherever we go. But as it usually goes, I make sure she's fed, vaccinated, bathed, bedding washed, nails trimmed, walked, and all poop cleaned up. He plays with her. Therefore, he's her favorite. And I'm okay with that.</span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eNiSKEdpPIDmTkyfGmiESPh5iHkyDDbK0-W-VRhv8YTbaAIpI1x65EfIX92mVEyezu-8aXBjuQyJgdwufMa9XAvXMWOqRfNR5TuBOuLX_uwMswqFPoiFOURTbgrGjvh5gstcZtvsRey1/s2048/IMG_1472.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eNiSKEdpPIDmTkyfGmiESPh5iHkyDDbK0-W-VRhv8YTbaAIpI1x65EfIX92mVEyezu-8aXBjuQyJgdwufMa9XAvXMWOqRfNR5TuBOuLX_uwMswqFPoiFOURTbgrGjvh5gstcZtvsRey1/s640/IMG_1472.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw9bejS2M6REkt0khHbd1_ADRAkb6GNpncavVgraGWNWsgCgQzuV-7S6d7QT-Rb-ui8YHe-PSf2tTfPzY0vFB9KdQsnMVtbCjE4Vsf7ZAwtawYNDor5KekVR1FLr979yFjZV9rhM4cslH/s2048/IMG_0921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCw9bejS2M6REkt0khHbd1_ADRAkb6GNpncavVgraGWNWsgCgQzuV-7S6d7QT-Rb-ui8YHe-PSf2tTfPzY0vFB9KdQsnMVtbCjE4Vsf7ZAwtawYNDor5KekVR1FLr979yFjZV9rhM4cslH/s640/IMG_0921.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgfhRZYgaiq72nJliXUaN4I5p-AFHuCijlSMWBMf7jRDdEmbkp17RZEM9_ORrpox98tj3I8qKSRk3gvwGNacd4SwtIsn5M0MUugZUwvrrqGG-iuMG9_bQ8Mga7VAzTkjf9D2jHrm0bWJr/s2048/IMG_E1187.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgfhRZYgaiq72nJliXUaN4I5p-AFHuCijlSMWBMf7jRDdEmbkp17RZEM9_ORrpox98tj3I8qKSRk3gvwGNacd4SwtIsn5M0MUugZUwvrrqGG-iuMG9_bQ8Mga7VAzTkjf9D2jHrm0bWJr/s640/IMG_E1187.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the motorcycle. (Her seat is the backpack, shown below.)<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKPrEyTaqprr6iHhG-Lgi9DqtJQUzvEgnilltRNlpz1cmQOn_L-wXYwOkef81Kpe1uFauB5K5-703AQ8SPWaE9e2HqYWOdj-_P_aXly02QutHM9J0ssKJfpJ88IO5IPL84qnz5ZAy8naA/s2048/IMG_1061.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKPrEyTaqprr6iHhG-Lgi9DqtJQUzvEgnilltRNlpz1cmQOn_L-wXYwOkef81Kpe1uFauB5K5-703AQ8SPWaE9e2HqYWOdj-_P_aXly02QutHM9J0ssKJfpJ88IO5IPL84qnz5ZAy8naA/s640/IMG_1061.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1415" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyxRLiaf5-QX4wMSynUzSjiQCOmZ3fWB5T0gt0YHPiSDowYYJh5TCudnf03-_HecrmdH2o7lZwiRkqL16_O-mrsyMbvNoDek_jAwR2c64dFi4-txpSezUEh0lmS1s0RkzdvN9pV4bp9Vo/s640/CIBZ0018.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and on the kayak, in her life jacket with the handy grab handle. We've never needed it, since she avoids water anyway. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8G4BDKNiph93JBLotoEhGKxArXx8aaNWXXIyjAlXFQq3HJqj8b3KsK1OO922kjkAILOFldnCwoWdihDGnY-c95BDDmVVc9FYSe_jhMbX9fGXFacxGahZWF__n4jhVh_06f71od98Ctrh/s2048/IMG_0056.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One evening recently, when Husband was out of town for a few days, Winnie heard a noise outside. (She ALWAYS thinks she hears noises, </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">which 99.9% of the time, is only me clearing my throat</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">.... or something equally benign.) </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Noises send her careening out her doggie-door to confront any intruders. This time though, she thought it might be HIM and so she went to wait by the door in the laundry room where he always emerges. That night though, he didn't.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRppHlg4PQuc0a3k1JUC-MSwSlBy9iTDMjOQJv8F68JvNTmhgamiVHboByDSD20K1wMsAmcPmrr0TsOlmKh_PR9of_Jbrf86HxT2287vvaWCFIgA7Du4Md5r1JSguyHME9LEu7ozPjqeyK/s2048/IMG_1973.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRppHlg4PQuc0a3k1JUC-MSwSlBy9iTDMjOQJv8F68JvNTmhgamiVHboByDSD20K1wMsAmcPmrr0TsOlmKh_PR9of_Jbrf86HxT2287vvaWCFIgA7Du4Md5r1JSguyHME9LEu7ozPjqeyK/s640/IMG_1973.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Naturally I texted him this picture. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_CVVatle74BVZQaN_syNnX92onQ9Zhbu-GPsycXlIqwNQlA2L18yovpsbOqBJoi4vyKUDPt0lfWmrl-qYiHPR46lr6j1YJFoN33IdOE5Hm4pDKN5i9d-wBeHHloOBHi6I47XNWljM3Wg/s640/IMG_1944.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squirrel alert, in the camper.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Nowadays, when we go out in public, she attracts the same baby-talk-goobers that I used to be. <span style="font-size: small;">(Still am.)</span> Winnie adores the attention and would happily go home with any of them and not look back. She quickly learned that Home Depot employees are potential dog-biscuit-carriers and greets them all with great expectation. If they don't deliver, she can lay on the guilt like nobody's business. (See laundry room picture above.) And you should see her at the Dairy Queen window after experiencing her first "pup cup". (It's a thing. I didn't make it up.) Now she thinks ice cream will magically appear at every drive-through, including banks and toll booths.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I have become one of those people who must resist the urge to foist my pet on others and feel I owe apologies to all those dog owners who had to endure my own goobering over their pet in years past. All the same, I cannot help but love when people love my dog, and wonder about the heartlessness of those who don't.</span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0EwSbWZiP_YWK2eWOHYe4dn9tIPwrWsoBDoMQMUs6Wt_n-wxfgnUIMvolkBnd-NBTFTMR4Iwzd-5OI-Yze3HcNYDzkXkljGVNMu3zF9oNMCC0BQcfHEz2SDr3ouUlWIlSidUVecFhhH-/s2048/IMG_E1192.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0EwSbWZiP_YWK2eWOHYe4dn9tIPwrWsoBDoMQMUs6Wt_n-wxfgnUIMvolkBnd-NBTFTMR4Iwzd-5OI-Yze3HcNYDzkXkljGVNMu3zF9oNMCC0BQcfHEz2SDr3ouUlWIlSidUVecFhhH-/s640/IMG_E1192.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winnie lays claim to any blanket she finds. She also LOVES wiffle balls, especially the one out of reach under the sofa .... and will whine pathetically till somebody gives in and retrieves it. (In the video below, the string tied to the ball makes it much easier to get it out from under furniture.)<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwv1FyhqVKdbc4moPWSZ_5zOEybYi5AaloGytT4HrsxAZSiDzwl5Gdg5QzmhJknU38PliordkESsunB6Y9xDA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Dachshunds are smart. It amazes us how much and how quickly she learns, even unintentionally. Example: We are in and out of the house all the time, but she KNOWS when we are actually planning to go somewhere when <i>she sees me pick up my purse</i>. At that point, she hovers and frets so that, if we are THAT heartless to leave her home alone, we WILL feel the guilt. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1131" data-original-width="845" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52c7FWxL93iaRQAyQqo79JdegEli-8hs2jHBHqXhu0Jq4WNdnBFxjBs-MdYUdyCzrPnNMUgIgYBKKXb-5slU1iU0At2orPfzoTnsthyGeE0zeYvv0B8rURpuhw8f3UoxeMuqQstTUkXcb/s640/IMG_1930.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Had to toss this one in.) Toenail clipping. She's not a fan.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUveOvyeE0K78YES7WJcBMOJyf8KFIkOXMoUoiTeQpmNAHyKvTV7uzxZ3cv9Y07xIgdupNnRYvwzvrLD4gNuyVYclPUGOu2pCBWii_3ej1MbGuZQO6gJ4CpEVoKiUbkR5iCzWoM8b2GNN/s2048/IMG_0372.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1716" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcUveOvyeE0K78YES7WJcBMOJyf8KFIkOXMoUoiTeQpmNAHyKvTV7uzxZ3cv9Y07xIgdupNnRYvwzvrLD4gNuyVYclPUGOu2pCBWii_3ej1MbGuZQO6gJ4CpEVoKiUbkR5iCzWoM8b2GNN/s640/IMG_0372.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her first trip to the beach. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>~~ Warning-- cliches and sappy ending ahead ~~</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">She's a nuisance (aren't we all sometimes?) and a joy. In a few weeks, it'll be two years since she <i>burrowed</i> into our hearts. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The third time did indeed prove to be the charm.</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SPGZqqi4Vpg5FE5EvEZzU6s5D91lnwmjN8YXCNtUR2Uv7omAUK7OLIBhCO7VEwds8Lh4HWsj_jdf2gq9vpAt-E5S7EcpcHvLiqDE33-1ve4SXMqppDnljbCISHMrbEzSKW8gF5V4z6OA/s2048/IMG_0056.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2SPGZqqi4Vpg5FE5EvEZzU6s5D91lnwmjN8YXCNtUR2Uv7omAUK7OLIBhCO7VEwds8Lh4HWsj_jdf2gq9vpAt-E5S7EcpcHvLiqDE33-1ve4SXMqppDnljbCISHMrbEzSKW8gF5V4z6OA/s640/IMG_0056.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBr9GA_BQAQJcy2r6FOggWEAUNDZIQaqtDXdzbyDkind2WaxFQavCfk5dOegWwsveAyrpwT_ysesJovKS5zjvhm4YMi8pGr7tEAoOZbxpZ8pVJZNaj_Z-lHrvf8GIh6eogmzRodcxT5wJ/s833/iu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="833" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBr9GA_BQAQJcy2r6FOggWEAUNDZIQaqtDXdzbyDkind2WaxFQavCfk5dOegWwsveAyrpwT_ysesJovKS5zjvhm4YMi8pGr7tEAoOZbxpZ8pVJZNaj_Z-lHrvf8GIh6eogmzRodcxT5wJ/w168-h158/iu.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-49792860830282319202020-08-16T11:31:00.262-07:002022-11-12T11:18:16.392-08:00Life in the Rural High Desert<span style="font-family: helvetica;">Having lived 95% of my total years in western Oregon (I actually did the math), this current 5% has been an adjustment, and I deem it sufficient to speak authoritatively on living in the central portion of this state. Therefore .....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>The Pros:</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">1</span>. My mountains. Verse 121 in Psalms, says, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help."</i></div></span>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;">In context, this verse appears to have been intended as a question. But to me, it's a statement. Hence, the mountains are mine ..... although I'm willing to share.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Broken Top on the left, and the Three Sisters, middle and right</td></tr>
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<span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-large;">2</span>. Space between us and everyone else. In fact, we can only <i>see</i> one other house from our house. </span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-large;">3</span>. My house. It's not fancy nor large, but it has no stairs, requires only minimal yard work, and it's comfortable. Plus it looks out on .... see #1 above.</span></div>
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<span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: x-large;">4</span>. The relatively safe political climate where <i>this</i> can sit</span><span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif"> </span><span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif">by our neighbor's road,</span><span face=""helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif"> unmolested.</span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYMT33fl6-8SykyiiM_OB0aHBUVDxh1wRJn2pwriMH_XsPd94ZnQ1kGqMSewOFQGvOk9YHUtM7ET6wYeCjzZ2AdEH0OiiOEdRvfmsD3PtAxchXlrhjkJqccWx3yuB6sD-znPdXVEZtRaY/s2048/IMG_1951.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYMT33fl6-8SykyiiM_OB0aHBUVDxh1wRJn2pwriMH_XsPd94ZnQ1kGqMSewOFQGvOk9YHUtM7ET6wYeCjzZ2AdEH0OiiOEdRvfmsD3PtAxchXlrhjkJqccWx3yuB6sD-znPdXVEZtRaY/w512-h384/IMG_1951.JPG" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I'm pretty sure I could even wear a MAGA hat into town if I wanted. <span style="font-size: small;">(I don't own one.)</span> As for the opposing party, I haven't seen any molestation of their signs either. But I could be wrong.</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">5</span>. Less traffic. Nowadays, when we make one of our frequent trips back to western Oregon, we practically break out in hives as we crawl from one traffic light to the next. Our Hwy 97, which runs north/south through the center of the state, can sometimes clog up a bit, and too often because of an accident .... which is a topic for another blog post. Fortunately we have a wonderful thing call back roads, which the general public usually doesn't bother with, where we can zip to town, seldom seeing more than a few cars or even a stop sign.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">6</span>. It's dry here. Often when we go back west, we notice, like never before, the Three Ms: Mud, Moss, and Muck .... the latter being whatever you think fits.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">7</span>. There are lakes everywhere. It necessitates owning some type of boat, which for us, is a kayak. And camping options? ..... Again, everywhere.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHW9EPjprBkov1BykjQ0lj-JLE9wbf8-QrdUkps_i0kC7GZiTNN20uMlLtN8fohNqoGg5_hYwi_ci3ohdXYUiSbH1GFxSoMTVZ6xZizsIdx-EcuRnk2GjSoNg5MlRZvyTT8n4MsJmVqgeL/s2048/IMG_2987.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHW9EPjprBkov1BykjQ0lj-JLE9wbf8-QrdUkps_i0kC7GZiTNN20uMlLtN8fohNqoGg5_hYwi_ci3ohdXYUiSbH1GFxSoMTVZ6xZizsIdx-EcuRnk2GjSoNg5MlRZvyTT8n4MsJmVqgeL/s640/IMG_2987.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pause a moment and soak this in. (Hosmer Lake) Credit for this photo goes to the Husband.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDazyHwctXfWsdH3br0uxuxDF6ZvFoothY9dLYBLnUbaTuwqg2QrGTkVkhRL121wwwjfvarg9vNpP3UFj70RLCld5owX3-NASDJ2kONABNCgSFCmyC0Q0Yr2BlNTYi6nbYdfjhnowACAo2/s2048/IMG_1945.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDazyHwctXfWsdH3br0uxuxDF6ZvFoothY9dLYBLnUbaTuwqg2QrGTkVkhRL121wwwjfvarg9vNpP3UFj70RLCld5owX3-NASDJ2kONABNCgSFCmyC0Q0Yr2BlNTYi6nbYdfjhnowACAo2/w640-h480/IMG_1945.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camping just last week, and there's our kayak. (Crane Prairie Reservoir)</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">8</span>. Deer occasionally wander by my window. You cannot help but love that.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">9</span>. We are surrounded by canyons. I can literally walk to this spot from my house. (1.5 miles)</span></div><div><br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnK6L2u8OeHnxla_cBcYScVdec1vfOmcptZyePplICM8kJ_aEpKnTRxXvjWHdPLXWdmm9uSl8Y-wQtNfdiG6oey7SOim03pRXaiQkAzPZb95Wo7lWQD763roOOtQG_pdOW0OqHCHsfmHx/s2048/IMG_1966.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnK6L2u8OeHnxla_cBcYScVdec1vfOmcptZyePplICM8kJ_aEpKnTRxXvjWHdPLXWdmm9uSl8Y-wQtNfdiG6oey7SOim03pRXaiQkAzPZb95Wo7lWQD763roOOtQG_pdOW0OqHCHsfmHx/s640/IMG_1966.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overlooking the Deschutes River.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">10</span>. The people. There are nice people everywhere. But here, when out for a walk as I often am, you MUST wave at everyone who drives by .... or at least smile and nod. Otherwise you feel rude. It can be bothersome, especially to one who is easily lost in one's thoughts when on foot. And once, after a deep dump of snow, I was out shoveling a portion of our driveway. A neighbor whom I've never met, came along on his tractor and, without a word, drove up our driveway and began scooping snow. And if he hadn't come, our other neighbor would've shown up to do the same.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;">11</span>. Spectacular sunsets. Check this out:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRdjJ3MHQwSnzGkCRGY-0UEfuYseBNpfSMViMuXpHSk6sDEr50uUc3uMQF_w7iY4HQK5orCFd65PU60US6nSnOcYM5ijdGpc5lyt0lePZ1QEUS6A00FVKK1aVYOAnIshk1b3YeeOT6PcP/s2048/IMG_1288.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRdjJ3MHQwSnzGkCRGY-0UEfuYseBNpfSMViMuXpHSk6sDEr50uUc3uMQF_w7iY4HQK5orCFd65PU60US6nSnOcYM5ijdGpc5lyt0lePZ1QEUS6A00FVKK1aVYOAnIshk1b3YeeOT6PcP/s640/IMG_1288.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeLqK5wWfNYMUHiuPu9tGQN8S-oi5XCnOpHkPYZvHTvN0LAfYe28ERkVPPwPyBCo2dj8wSCA5wMFpj__IbkZm0UtmntCJCopKsPcYU4hYWwsN-JQzDNaoenEKnmrymvm0Hd5NeGHn9kV1/s2048/_MG_0008.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeLqK5wWfNYMUHiuPu9tGQN8S-oi5XCnOpHkPYZvHTvN0LAfYe28ERkVPPwPyBCo2dj8wSCA5wMFpj__IbkZm0UtmntCJCopKsPcYU4hYWwsN-JQzDNaoenEKnmrymvm0Hd5NeGHn9kV1/s640/_MG_0008.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b>The Cons:</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">1</span>. I am twenty minutes away from shopping, and I'm talking <i>bare minimalist </i>shopping. <br /></span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If you want <i>real </i>shopping, you must drive forty minutes or more. And if you want <i>serious</i> shopping, you must drive three hours to Portland. (<i>*sigh*)</i> At least Amazon still knows where to find me.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">2</span>. The lack of color. As you can see in the photos above, there are parts of central Oregon that are stunningly gorgeous. But where we live .... there are junipers. Here and there you might find an interesting looking one in a somewhat artful sense, but for the most part, they are probably the ugliest tree ever created. And unless people plant other varieties of trees on their property, you will find nothing BUT junipers. NOTHING. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And the other vegetation, if you can call it that ....(sage brush, tumbleweeds, and cheatgrass that drives burs into your socks) are all the same dreary shade of pale green and brown. Hence, when we drive west, I am almost overcome by the abundant color over there. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">3</span>. Those deer. They must be barricaded by tall fences or they will eat everything you plant. And if they don't want it, rabbits probably will. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">4</span>. Weird weather. We don't get snow too often. But sometimes when it snows, it dumps. We've seen at least three feet a couple of times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;">And once in a while the wind, on a previously windless day, suddenly kicks up and threatens to overturn cars, then brings in a Biblical deluge of hail and rain and for about 30 minutes, tries heartily to wash us all into one of the nearby canyons, before returning to that innocent blue-sky calmness, as if to say, "Storm? What storm?" </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;">And all lightening storms must accompany the necessary concern of wild fires, because .....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">5</span>. ... it's so dry. People are quite intense about fire danger here. We have to trim up our trees and attempt to keep potential fuel cleaned up off the ground. I never heard of creating a "safety perimeter" around my house in western Oregon. And we've had days at a time, typically in August, when the mountains hide in the smokey haze. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">6</span>. I don't trust other drivers here. Hwy 97 (mentioned above) is, in my opinion, an antiquated death trap. It has too many small roads and driveways accessing it with a scary lack of turning lanes or medians needed to keep cars and trucks separated as they speed past each other on only two lanes. A LOT of accidents happen on sections I am frequently on and many are fatal. But not all are due to the road. Sometimes the unexplainable happens and someone pulls out in front of a semi-truck in broad daylight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;">As you can see, at this point, the Pros outnumber the Cons. So until that changes, we will stay put. Besides that, the Husband LOVES his fishing and golfing which are readily available a few minutes away. I was told once, by a local, that people move out here when they retire in their 60s (hello, us!) and move back when they need more help in their 80s. So we have a few years to go .....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div></div>Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-92137631268099733622020-07-04T13:44:00.004-07:002022-11-12T11:21:40.751-08:00Updates and admitting that we are hard-core RV-ers.<i>Whenever I read over some of my old posts, I berate myself for neglecting The Blog. Even if nobody else ever reads it, it's a priceless record to us. And so I am pulling it out of the attic, dusting it off, and will (hopefully!) get back in the groove. Because we're not dead yet. </i><br />
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Update:<br />
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My last post <i>(of over a 1.5 years ago)</i> started off with us selling our 40 foot ("Beast") motorhome, which I was very ready to see go. I SAID we were going back to good old-fashioned tent camping. Or so we thought.<br />
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That lasted until the following spring ..... when we hatched the *brilliant* plan of rejoining our motorcycling and camping lifestyles, with a toy-hauler. (This is an RV wherein the rear wall opens and lays down as a ramp. Toy-haulers can carry all types of man-sized "toys" on wheels.) As you may recall, our motorhome carried our motorcycle on the back. THIS would carry it inside. Brilliance. Or so we thought.<br />
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Fondly remembering the assets of our first little all-aluminum trailer, we searched for one from the same company, which Husband located in San Diego. (At least it wasn't Arkansas this time.) So off we went in our Jeep, towing our motorcycle in a U-Haul trailer. <br />
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There we loaded the motorcycle into our *new* (four years old) rig, hitched it to the Jeep and headed back north. It was during that trip we decided the Jeep just didn't have the oomph to do the job, since this trailer was wider than our original trailer. So after we returned home, our beloved Jeep was sold and replaced with a lovely red F150 pickup, which squarely entrenched us as true Central Oregonians. (Eeeeeverybody drives a pickup here.)<br />
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It was very spartan inside, with hideous "Polaris" decor, and the exterior had been thoroughly faded by the southern Cali sun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmf7DOHmUr8N1H3sVZm1CgCM_N31PyJ4AQYVO5OXmcfpNrkgWMnwmFuK5boCYH9djxC2fQBtegYgSoPotDFdXY5ASe3q4LCMUklGhRoIqKXV7PsoylaK2s1Uh5mFKqnMW4NuyxEH3CZxQ/s1600/IMG_1210.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdmf7DOHmUr8N1H3sVZm1CgCM_N31PyJ4AQYVO5OXmcfpNrkgWMnwmFuK5boCYH9djxC2fQBtegYgSoPotDFdXY5ASe3q4LCMUklGhRoIqKXV7PsoylaK2s1Uh5mFKqnMW4NuyxEH3CZxQ/s640/IMG_1210.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is as it looked on our way home. The furniture was folded up against the walls. The bed raises and lowers to allow the bike to come and go.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlWtMVMKuoTyzfuB4JOdg_UJKNIjrb1v-nuq2pYOLAGQmFD8E6ytjQZ6FmYfRLkKov7xfii0yHhMVZpszgE4zOJC2JnX2vbBntn5wFgc1TH3wxVtTVx0uGwxkTsyu1J98SO88YmsP7VrW/s1600/5c8efd5adb1e041634335693.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlWtMVMKuoTyzfuB4JOdg_UJKNIjrb1v-nuq2pYOLAGQmFD8E6ytjQZ6FmYfRLkKov7xfii0yHhMVZpszgE4zOJC2JnX2vbBntn5wFgc1TH3wxVtTVx0uGwxkTsyu1J98SO88YmsP7VrW/s640/5c8efd5adb1e041634335693.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Then followed about six weeks of pure fun (memory always erases the not-fun parts) as we fixed it up. The exterior got new paint and decals.<br />
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The interior went from this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYVJUH6rwWwhpaKkNlDOBPvKWJvj4BwGhCME0_ZDu02kVRcnYUt-CFDXz2MJgV8Eig6-kxFS_XqyMaLPZEyfxsx8VQNtZIktA8aYlvHtabEPAPGVkz35rf9gbgcPr6YOYWM3UbW8ikhBL/s1600/5c8efdace3575424625d32bb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYVJUH6rwWwhpaKkNlDOBPvKWJvj4BwGhCME0_ZDu02kVRcnYUt-CFDXz2MJgV8Eig6-kxFS_XqyMaLPZEyfxsx8VQNtZIktA8aYlvHtabEPAPGVkz35rf9gbgcPr6YOYWM3UbW8ikhBL/s640/5c8efdace3575424625d32bb.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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to this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApY6G-0iJWLx3u1VVXbBmJPKc5c2hqmgBkwtNQie1hXtqeKTSW0C3pm1MrVL_0UmAoYwSseTBdy1zp2p9YWhqlCr34vtv_uv9MJoB__7BbpqswmwxiVQsqzxchBXELpXnteLm9GT6FmdN/s1600/IMG_1255.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhApY6G-0iJWLx3u1VVXbBmJPKc5c2hqmgBkwtNQie1hXtqeKTSW0C3pm1MrVL_0UmAoYwSseTBdy1zp2p9YWhqlCr34vtv_uv9MJoB__7BbpqswmwxiVQsqzxchBXELpXnteLm9GT6FmdN/s640/IMG_1255.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We loved it ......<br />
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or so we thought.<br />
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Last fall we headed for New Mexico, since that was our last unexplored western state. We stopped briefly to see our delightful Utah family and then did our annual obligatory visit to Moab.<br />
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OH! I forgot! We bought a kayak! (How COOL are we?!) It's inflatable and holds both of us, plus the dog, and we love it! So we brought it along on this trip and did about 8 miles on the scenic (brown) Colorado river just outside of Moab. <br />
<i>Note: for those of you who have never launched any type of small non-powered boat on a river, it involves a lot of ferrying of vehicles from the put-in point to the take-out point, which we were able to do with me and dog in the truck, and Husband on the motorcycle. This is to avoid having to hitchhike a ride back up-river to the truck.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRf3mAGm6lW5PIc0cNI9uVyDtBn3v7jNaRKggCu8QSKVUYIHL9K78l7feIsQVxE-8u__xlbScBHdDQxDg9MhqWVGa44yUdpmKSqxqviU9Ejh4lP1qjIEopKW4fvPjDA-pV3U3dZ6c2tkF/s1600/IMG_1390.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaRf3mAGm6lW5PIc0cNI9uVyDtBn3v7jNaRKggCu8QSKVUYIHL9K78l7feIsQVxE-8u__xlbScBHdDQxDg9MhqWVGa44yUdpmKSqxqviU9Ejh4lP1qjIEopKW4fvPjDA-pV3U3dZ6c2tkF/s640/IMG_1390.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Then we spent two nights at the Great Sand Dune National Park in southern Colorado. (Sllliiiightly overrated. Definitely a do-only-once destination, although the pic below is gorgeous.) I had to laugh at all the people we saw heading out to climb the dunes in hiking boots. Obviously they were sand novices and strangers to the Oregon coast where we all know to go barefoot.<br />
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(Took this off the internet.) </div>
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https://www.colorado.com/articles/national-park-profile-great-sand-dunes-national-park-preserve</div>
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It was here when the benefits of carrying one's motorcycle inside one's RV began to fade. If one is relegated to the only available spot in the park and is backed up into that tiny campsite where one cannot lower the ramp to disembark said motorcycle, then one must sleep with a large vehicle situated between one's bed and one's bathroom. Why didn't we unload the bike before parking the trailer? Frankly, I don't remember. <br />
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Then we headed into the artsy, touristy town of Taos, New Mexico, and some much anticipated internet. (I'd been dealing with a few withdrawal symptoms after being off-grid for several days.) About an hour after we arrived there, somehow-somewhere a very important cable was accidentally severed, plunging the entire area into an internet-less abyss that lasted for the next 12-13 hours. In fact even the land-line phones were all down. I was aghast .... <i>what if there was an emergency??</i> But the locals just seemed to shrug it off. <br />
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Taos is entertaining for about 2.5 hours, after which those of us with short attention spans become bored. I have learned in my RV-ing experience that making reservations and finding places to camp are fairly easy Monday - Thursday. But by Friday, you'd better be hunkered down for the weekend. So we endured Taos till Monday. The friendly folks with whom we attended church in their very small congregation, ALL encouraged us to move there full-time (so as to permanently teach a Sunday class or something). It was that weekend we discovered the ramp of our trailer, upon which the motorcycle enters and exists, was becoming spongy. It was rated to hold much heavier vehicles than we subjected it do .... AND did I mention it was only four years old??<br />
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So we called the local church leader, who kindly offered to let us use a few of his power tools and Husband fashioned a plank to lay over the ramp, so as to continue being able to load and unload the bike. (Needless to say, our opinion of the manufacturer of our trailer (and the ramp) dropped significantly.)<br />
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Skipping ahead, since this is getting long-winded .... we visited San Juan (lovely!) ... (oops!, I meant Santa Fe), Los Alamos where the atomic bomb was built, and saw more ancient ruins in Chaco Canyon which IS the Mother-of-the-Middle-of-Nowhere where visitors must suffer miles of very rough road for which, in my opinion, there is no excuse. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Kinda done with ruins after that.)</span><br />
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The best of that trip was Lake Powell in our kayak. A few pics: (Antelope Canyon)<br />
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It gradually narrows down to a channel barely wide enough to U-turn the kayak, where you hit land and can hike further into the slot canyon on foot. Husband is clamoring to return .... or perhaps move there (insert eye-roll emoji here).<br />
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Alas, however, it was not our favorite trip, and added to some necessary cold winter usage, I'm afraid our current trailer has fallen out of favor.<br />
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HENCE, onto Plan ...<span style="font-size: x-small;"> um ... a, b, c</span> .... <span style="font-size: large;">D</span>!<br />
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We are getting a Sprinter van! More on that coming up ..... because I WILL return. <br />
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Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-65325359811665905522018-10-21T16:05:00.000-07:002022-11-12T11:21:04.112-08:00Catching up and goodbye Beast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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FOUR months since my last post which is a new record. Sometimes a person is just not feeling it and distractions are many. As time goes by and more and more things go unrecorded, it becomes a bit daunting to catch up. <br />
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But since I rule this blog, I can be brief and leap over the past four months, as little or as much as I want.<br />
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First of all, you may have noticed that the title no longer says "on Wheels"....... this is because the wheels .... AKA "The Beast" is <<SOLD>> As of six days ago. Husband and I are still celebrating.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJS_hyphenhyphenJp7acTO7L5-yz3xdV2tT1hkcqT_cKKooBQdXcARtUSTn8emr-YlZl52nEIjfqdeEoVZmiz6ORiSXX6FpV3-fofi7yrbq7AIqMuGJUxi2OjGd20VAdxpcmISJRim2-HCYCEHYJ_J/s1600/IMG_0887.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJS_hyphenhyphenJp7acTO7L5-yz3xdV2tT1hkcqT_cKKooBQdXcARtUSTn8emr-YlZl52nEIjfqdeEoVZmiz6ORiSXX6FpV3-fofi7yrbq7AIqMuGJUxi2OjGd20VAdxpcmISJRim2-HCYCEHYJ_J/s400/IMG_0887.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Backing it out of the driveway for the last time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Wait, you may say. Didn't I <i>love</i> The Beast? <br />
<br />
Yes. I did. <br />
<br />
Then I didn't. <br />
<br />
The Beast served its purpose for over two years, keeping us adequately sheltered. I thoroughly enjoyed the escape from yard work and from multiple rooms that were seldom occupied except by dust mites who had to be evicted regularly. And as I have previously said, I hated moving the thing. <br />
<br />
Motorhomes are large investments .... even 12 year old ones like ours. In fact I shouldn't call it an "investment" because the longer you own it, like with any vehicle and unlike a house, the more the value goes down. And repairs can be costly and frequent. We had to deal with a few of them. So when you add a worrier (like me) into the mix, the result is not optimum. I was always afraid it would break down on the side of the road. Or present us with another leak on a rainy day. Or that it would age beyond its appeal to any prospective buyer. Or that it would suddenly demand new tires, shocks, radiator, batteries, a new fridge, AC unit, or what-have-you.<br />
<br />
So after a few repairs and much cleaning .... it sold within a week. (Happy Dance!) <br />
<br />
And we have decided that, for now, our version of camping will be in a tent. In fact, just last month, we were in our little backpacking tent in a campground in southern Colorado .... the only tent-dwellers amongst many RVs, and we no longer envied the comfort of those big rigs with their kitchens, bathrooms, and flat screen TVs. We were traveling minimalist-style on our motorcycle with no concerns of maneuvering in and out of our site, if our slides would retract in the morning, or if we'd be able to find a gas station we can fit into the next day. <br />
<br />
<i>(Note: Husband is not a worrier (like me) which is good, because if he was, we'd probably never venture out, take a risk, or do much of anything. He provides the big ideas and optimism, and I provide the angst to keep us somewhat grounded. It's called balance.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Therefore, with that, another chapter in our life is now closed.<br />
<br />
<br />
So ....... over the last four months, we have done TWO motorcycle trips. The first was a sequel of last year with our great motor-biking friends. We traveled into Idaho -- the Boise area where the guys could fish, up near Sun Valley where the guys could fish, then over to Rexburg where the guys could fish. I got to see my delightful sis and some cousins. Total score. (Sadly we don't have many pictures. We were all too busy having fun.)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9_0_MZLUxlQ78HckIORoyKNbVPqW7M1y3d_5SsUi1sTysaXTnRJdRg793XCQc7L-ge2KgjVbNQVTkYxaoA1MW2TqEKrWqqH5aK44P-wnY8DEz3WhAYLVzG5BqYu0lTenUSNQoRcRxTY3/s1600/35480962_10216060353122107_260292056272863232_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9_0_MZLUxlQ78HckIORoyKNbVPqW7M1y3d_5SsUi1sTysaXTnRJdRg793XCQc7L-ge2KgjVbNQVTkYxaoA1MW2TqEKrWqqH5aK44P-wnY8DEz3WhAYLVzG5BqYu0lTenUSNQoRcRxTY3/s400/35480962_10216060353122107_260292056272863232_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the bikes in our garage the night before the trip. They all spent the first night with us, three days after we moved into the house. (Thanks, Julie. I took this from your Facebook pics.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4OVfnGTbw2GrMPXH6bhC5gy0sfpkhtTGL6LYYvrSMOkyZyzmowdnPt88hyvmJbGlMGFqa6KW0eZEPi8a32xff3m3p2ALUTAxtGJjFsqLtVpcIVfBxcyfEbiFZd_gywzr4sBIjUP6oPHC/s1600/IMG_0414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib4OVfnGTbw2GrMPXH6bhC5gy0sfpkhtTGL6LYYvrSMOkyZyzmowdnPt88hyvmJbGlMGFqa6KW0eZEPi8a32xff3m3p2ALUTAxtGJjFsqLtVpcIVfBxcyfEbiFZd_gywzr4sBIjUP6oPHC/s640/IMG_0414.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband on the Big Wood River, Idaho.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDbgNonp4FTiwOj8coKGn_uVDFHSa6Ieu7TrjxIz3h5VA3fHcyzMxy9dt8EBgoMvUSptQ9O1na-eURJOteh4CNMGdyXqyq4NOMiQfIXZGKDMkR12wWXL-c9T-YrcX9T75MWloL_Bh7_jp/s1600/36086835_1968115173232737_7670179603398262784_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDbgNonp4FTiwOj8coKGn_uVDFHSa6Ieu7TrjxIz3h5VA3fHcyzMxy9dt8EBgoMvUSptQ9O1na-eURJOteh4CNMGdyXqyq4NOMiQfIXZGKDMkR12wWXL-c9T-YrcX9T75MWloL_Bh7_jp/s400/36086835_1968115173232737_7670179603398262784_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awesome sister and cousins.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In August, we introduced our new home to our progeny (kids and grands) at our annual reunion and plan on hosting many more.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5EokZpfYJ2Z71gdl2V0jo3gz8uqvpruz9YOybv9k4Vu4EsYYtFFKAkikO_C5vhBpqPI7Z5IHh0Y5wUUOWLF9eqFPyAYITZUTQ7-7d4QaSwUszd9dBtsUzpS1115NxtU7-J40RwTKDA1y/s1600/IMG_0443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5EokZpfYJ2Z71gdl2V0jo3gz8uqvpruz9YOybv9k4Vu4EsYYtFFKAkikO_C5vhBpqPI7Z5IHh0Y5wUUOWLF9eqFPyAYITZUTQ7-7d4QaSwUszd9dBtsUzpS1115NxtU7-J40RwTKDA1y/s400/IMG_0443.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
AND, to check another biggie off our list, we finished moving ALL OUR STUFF.<br />
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AND THEN Husband backpacked 85 miles (one week) on the Pacific Crest Trail with friend, Steve, who was hiking the entire Oregon portion.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alas, I did not think to take an "after" shot when I picked him up a week later.</td></tr>
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<br />
Then our second motorcycle trip we went alone, first by hauling our motorcycle in our little utility trailer to Utah where we visited some awesome relatives,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOQmEVQs-li1jym0UtIb5_d550ytCXu2tvRQ0cBrki1ibqWuqtA04hqshnGcUqN0GVaihUuES6zUOrh5co79QCViH1InGKNQkBLEVIR41WSmUMMPvud0zpSEuh0vPgO8nn_EiuB_Xcmwr/s1600/40932321_2226993117330652_1178114331066236928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOQmEVQs-li1jym0UtIb5_d550ytCXu2tvRQ0cBrki1ibqWuqtA04hqshnGcUqN0GVaihUuES6zUOrh5co79QCViH1InGKNQkBLEVIR41WSmUMMPvud0zpSEuh0vPgO8nn_EiuB_Xcmwr/s400/40932321_2226993117330652_1178114331066236928_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
then we left the car and trailer<br />
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and rode our motorcycle into Colorado for nine days, camping and motel-ing along the way. We saw Mesa Verde again ....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQovIvtL9PP0Da9dcHF2JeZADMO4ekA70NNLjEl5dJywLqG4OuJWTQqgWVSNN-oMHI3KTPHT_UYdlxAKDf-OLrGg7AlWqiO2erpGcusOO4ZADrRJwOBKrIJ259PDEZB2lmIic68yqv-_1/s1600/IMG_0511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQovIvtL9PP0Da9dcHF2JeZADMO4ekA70NNLjEl5dJywLqG4OuJWTQqgWVSNN-oMHI3KTPHT_UYdlxAKDf-OLrGg7AlWqiO2erpGcusOO4ZADrRJwOBKrIJ259PDEZB2lmIic68yqv-_1/s640/IMG_0511.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmh50zCeXha3V8nA2_UXqeyUJ-X95Q7dEZtgFMPsIOd-h-IMx_sjhTIooZ7clXOVDeiZQ_kOw7MjEoYnXYjlwfhFCbxtoxg2h2MssPkNpK6-XDyS9uxhMPOz2Y-98_ZhyphenhyphenofOjAJ3BLfVz9/s1600/IMG_E0518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmh50zCeXha3V8nA2_UXqeyUJ-X95Q7dEZtgFMPsIOd-h-IMx_sjhTIooZ7clXOVDeiZQ_kOw7MjEoYnXYjlwfhFCbxtoxg2h2MssPkNpK6-XDyS9uxhMPOz2Y-98_ZhyphenhyphenofOjAJ3BLfVz9/s400/IMG_E0518.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I went through there too. It was the only way out.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jGli6gUs5e4G6iMdzbVEDL8Len8CdPIqpVPQYSJvIsZeZi8CIpFY10hJ9mkukvJ4V0IP0TUQ4MTQtb1I6tsRVoNui6qOOXC_MlseH-_OfBCoxBTal7cN7ADsLXPcLPKlyqs6GVEwtW1_/s1600/IMG_E0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jGli6gUs5e4G6iMdzbVEDL8Len8CdPIqpVPQYSJvIsZeZi8CIpFY10hJ9mkukvJ4V0IP0TUQ4MTQtb1I6tsRVoNui6qOOXC_MlseH-_OfBCoxBTal7cN7ADsLXPcLPKlyqs6GVEwtW1_/s640/IMG_E0520.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And up this.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmha3s6F7MrVIGmNpuaiIhNQcbRCSEbAJksrWs5I_mTv_5I0KSoQNIfDl_1qSYoivG7bImh_Y6CPGZ7BS6eNgYBZPuuSAGa9GZh-jDKAkMwrypvtFD3dShXqFf_Ysam7BjtHjgFmovF_Z/s1600/IMG_E0522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmha3s6F7MrVIGmNpuaiIhNQcbRCSEbAJksrWs5I_mTv_5I0KSoQNIfDl_1qSYoivG7bImh_Y6CPGZ7BS6eNgYBZPuuSAGa9GZh-jDKAkMwrypvtFD3dShXqFf_Ysam7BjtHjgFmovF_Z/s640/IMG_E0522.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliff Palace in Mesa Verde</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
..... the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, the "million dollar highway" and the majestic Rockies with their splashes of golden aspens among the evergreens. (I cannot EXPRESS how gorgeous those mountains are!! <i>Oh, poor Oregon .... you've been bested by Maine and now by Colorado too</i>.) We rode in elevations well above our own 11,000+ ft. high Mt. Hood. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz_SW8PISP4PYmh9p0ACknOCiredIkCFnQbX5pqQi5IQfvBNtOrZD8KscQDjrY7kea7cTn5h1hQFZt2koR4zw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fhuS4wjaU48oavbDgSfLUg73dSdJxGK6NuGusz25coPkboZKLdHDcrHP0N9RjZA-shv6FcYJSxw2xYgQtFB7SILcjFYlv7OpEoO4NiKWDdHypJ8zGXVqn0EnqAfyW0HmDWLbflDmcDTO/s1600/IMG_E0778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="1600" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fhuS4wjaU48oavbDgSfLUg73dSdJxGK6NuGusz25coPkboZKLdHDcrHP0N9RjZA-shv6FcYJSxw2xYgQtFB7SILcjFYlv7OpEoO4NiKWDdHypJ8zGXVqn0EnqAfyW0HmDWLbflDmcDTO/s640/IMG_E0778.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colorado National Monument</td></tr>
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We reconnected with more awesome family and then to our beloved southern Utah .... Arches National Park (for the umpteenth time), our fave Moab campground, and more. Over 1800 fantastic miles on the bike<br />
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On the Home Front, we finished laying gazillions of pavers for our driveway. Plus we watched someone put up the outside portion of Husband's new shop. (Husband will finish the interior, as you may have guessed.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MCEC3LMNfSplr5gCy2NQ20zro3VpgYWXNIqsafLmHpcCICJ4YVmPTUXOWYveTGucD_uNXwY4h38wNch2R_3RHRrzSluknqak96BiKqVTV6hFGjsMo5VRB4epyeDr9Hcw5kC-ErjCi3gp/s1600/IMG_0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MCEC3LMNfSplr5gCy2NQ20zro3VpgYWXNIqsafLmHpcCICJ4YVmPTUXOWYveTGucD_uNXwY4h38wNch2R_3RHRrzSluknqak96BiKqVTV6hFGjsMo5VRB4epyeDr9Hcw5kC-ErjCi3gp/s400/IMG_0849.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a cement floor in it now.</td></tr>
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The sand pile has shrunk considerably.<br />
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Landscaping is still on The List. It WILL be minimal.<br />
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In spite of a warm fall, we're starting to use our wood stove, which I love.<br />
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And ..... we got a new puppy. (I know, I know.) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winnie The Poop</td></tr>
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That's all. <br />
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For now. <br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-16118764690610190662018-06-10T19:09:00.000-07:002022-11-12T11:18:42.893-08:00Moving-In Week!I've purposely avoided updates on our house. This is because, no matter how hard we worked, we could not seem to pull it out of that unfinished-looking stage. There always seemed to be ladders, sheetrock dust (still is), paint cans, wires, holes that needed something in them ..... and all accessorized with an abundance of tools strewn about. I was tired of posting pics of the <i>process</i> and was beyond ready to show the <i>results. </i><br />
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So to bring 'er up to date, I'll mention a few "highlights" from along the way ......<br />
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Painting the exterior of the house was a lot of work, but the rewards were immediate. We opted for three colors (all shades of taupe) which meant a LOT of taping. But we're happy with the results.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtEpSupDkrjgJP2wOQ2slww-BS44Chd6M3L6DD3eLrHLfrOakLwDfY7Zqp9vwx_5a6xxE6G4TSXLN0mEIJOOU9itUdJXZC36Yiq-fcrZi8ogn3kLzQUGYt3lkkk46AufMX6K-t-vXeJLx/s1600/IMG_0297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUtEpSupDkrjgJP2wOQ2slww-BS44Chd6M3L6DD3eLrHLfrOakLwDfY7Zqp9vwx_5a6xxE6G4TSXLN0mEIJOOU9itUdJXZC36Yiq-fcrZi8ogn3kLzQUGYt3lkkk46AufMX6K-t-vXeJLx/s640/IMG_0297.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The garage doors arrived in the perfect color. We did not have to paint them. Hooray!</td></tr>
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The interior walls and ceilings were a big job and weeks later we're still finding spots to touch up, but again ..... happy. Then <i>(insert creepy theme music)</i> came the job of painting our interior trim, meaning all the base boards, window trim, door frames, etc., that Husband had dutifully constructed and installed himself. Plus the doors had to be painted. [Need I mention that every inch of trim had to be caulked (by yours truly), which is absolute death to a manicure.]<br />
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Our builder (Don), builder-friend-Alan, and Favorite-First-Son-Who-Is-A-Builder ..... ALL said they paint their trim last. This means after the walls and ceiling are painted, and after the flooring is installed. (But, thankfully, <i>before</i> the carpet arrives.) Okay, so we did. That was when I discovered that the entire world of Youtube how-to videos is shaking its head and saying, Don't do it, you fool". Thus I learned by sad experience that when painting one's trim LAST and with a powered paint sprayer that blasts wet paint willy-nilly in the general direction one points it, means one is about to plunge into the outer darkness of painting-PREP. One day we literally spent 14 hours taping and then spent approximately 14 minutes spraying everything we had taped. <i>And that was only a few rooms. </i> We bought rolls and rolls AND ROLLS of masking tape, and returned to the store several times to buy more. This was worse than laying 1200 square feet of wood flooring and three rooms of tile.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMLmxWHpBm_15CwJCCJV5_XRdBY-jdAInt2owwFrhYJM3vwaXq9s7eK4VXR9r37Na6FSKQ9o-FRLJsgqRpHFm6mQ-D5Ude_xVyDQCLelDMqto6Sz3Y6En5IqqdM4A-KcbpuwvFJJshipP/s1600/IMG_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMLmxWHpBm_15CwJCCJV5_XRdBY-jdAInt2owwFrhYJM3vwaXq9s7eK4VXR9r37Na6FSKQ9o-FRLJsgqRpHFm6mQ-D5Ude_xVyDQCLelDMqto6Sz3Y6En5IqqdM4A-KcbpuwvFJJshipP/s320/IMG_0357.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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This was worse than the wiring. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Husband may disagree.) </span><br />
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This was Masking-Tape-Hell. </div>
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Everything that couldn't be removed, had to be covered and taped, including the floor. At one point, I had a small meltdown and had to walk away, indulge in a good cry, then go back to work. It took us four and a half LONG days. THAT is one job I will NEVER do again. <i>(Standing with clenched fist.)</i><br />
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Thus our DIY-resolve weakened and we broke down and paid gobs of money to a couple of angels who paved our entire patio. <i>Ahhhhh. </i> <i>Who says money does not buy happiness?? </i>(The driveway and front sidewalk are yet to come and still remain on our DIY list, as is our tiled shower in the master bathroom.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzqIgljsgeuuJ_NXyHo3oWqgW_J62X7eNF4vXEEJQEphpsw1FeIijrv3cR6dPl_MMYNauhs9vK8x9iMlUebsUeQ7dalkpSmExCyNIokpHNMTtvQtSg_wmRenk9S2fNv2d8Law9Vcv5eli/s1600/IMG_0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzqIgljsgeuuJ_NXyHo3oWqgW_J62X7eNF4vXEEJQEphpsw1FeIijrv3cR6dPl_MMYNauhs9vK8x9iMlUebsUeQ7dalkpSmExCyNIokpHNMTtvQtSg_wmRenk9S2fNv2d8Law9Vcv5eli/s640/IMG_0406.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The large rock on the right came from where our front door is now. We had the excavator move it to this spot. Grandkid seating.</td></tr>
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Long story short, the carpet in the bedrooms will be installed tomorrow and then we're moving in. (We're actually just sleeping in the RV at this point, as our beds are still in storage.) Over the past several weeks, each time we've headed o'er the mountains, we've brought back a load in our utility trailer. So we have a portion of our stuff here. We'll bring the remainder in a mega U-Haul and then our life as motorhome dwellers will officially come to an end. <br />
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A few pics:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMdnX091pZl1HZPs4OnztnTh-9Z3oKs8xjbExtkdD5BIWCGnpwqOv2ifoEzoe6B0N7fny1XaKkcUwAKOq_TLgwVEkaYT6Wr-lrUTAtVD9XR2m8bryCH4wkFd97Qz9tyjOrfPu5hkfUwnc/s1600/IMG_0404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMdnX091pZl1HZPs4OnztnTh-9Z3oKs8xjbExtkdD5BIWCGnpwqOv2ifoEzoe6B0N7fny1XaKkcUwAKOq_TLgwVEkaYT6Wr-lrUTAtVD9XR2m8bryCH4wkFd97Qz9tyjOrfPu5hkfUwnc/s640/IMG_0404.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The counter backsplash is yet to come.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWrhMVvf-cH_TH-5vBIoAj5Q_SEh1ZESoFXEdhx5ZqYkVFcfAbT5GNotJELqJVGqQq47NXDbsVZoC-rd2VP2iTij9DfAwS_UmLZFt56jLBL7sJDrBqtRV_uoexbdJDPsof5HQGPB7jXSi/s1600/IMG_0405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWrhMVvf-cH_TH-5vBIoAj5Q_SEh1ZESoFXEdhx5ZqYkVFcfAbT5GNotJELqJVGqQq47NXDbsVZoC-rd2VP2iTij9DfAwS_UmLZFt56jLBL7sJDrBqtRV_uoexbdJDPsof5HQGPB7jXSi/s640/IMG_0405.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wood stove and I are already becoming great friends. Best heat ever.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXR1hyphenhyphenVo-xKXtzLqAJBUNPS5wMaU4tu0M_8ask7uUiLuiKw7CQyE9BPDAyHNPvI0YUcwwcyjQV2WuH30Y5cUAnlD0ykOYTaKNZ2iZqURqVDIiDxZ78i6hcivMJ-UZlouoytZzv5BIWWzU/s1600/IMG_0377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXR1hyphenhyphenVo-xKXtzLqAJBUNPS5wMaU4tu0M_8ask7uUiLuiKw7CQyE9BPDAyHNPvI0YUcwwcyjQV2WuH30Y5cUAnlD0ykOYTaKNZ2iZqURqVDIiDxZ78i6hcivMJ-UZlouoytZzv5BIWWzU/s640/IMG_0377.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I chose this light fixture very early on, and nicknamed it "the fun light".</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6F9R3aZUfbUif8Fu6fKiMIZwKF8MDHpH_F2cpj2ypXONBmrkVIDymKwlu66gmyU6ttlfyA28RwQQX8vPU-msRRcZZzzl-CoAizreNdmDiW2dafyePcYVVNE7_GoQFuTPaY_c4laQuB_5i/s1600/IMG_0398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6F9R3aZUfbUif8Fu6fKiMIZwKF8MDHpH_F2cpj2ypXONBmrkVIDymKwlu66gmyU6ttlfyA28RwQQX8vPU-msRRcZZzzl-CoAizreNdmDiW2dafyePcYVVNE7_GoQFuTPaY_c4laQuB_5i/s640/IMG_0398.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I included this shot to show Husband's skills. He built that drop-ceiling-thing from which the lights are hanging. (T'was NOT fun getting it up there.) That last piece of trim at the top of the range hood is on eternal back-order.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIKZ39Q_a-Vw3bAxRDdXmxcn5su35bhsDtGFEQzvw7O4L7MOFxAIf9OOGPd0tvNNQ12eBSmCX-EJ1Ytf9HN2yCT-6AomPSCxaPPtGaN9LXz93fakWemb_YKbVpddCpgUE0VgCglHoWVco/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIKZ39Q_a-Vw3bAxRDdXmxcn5su35bhsDtGFEQzvw7O4L7MOFxAIf9OOGPd0tvNNQ12eBSmCX-EJ1Ytf9HN2yCT-6AomPSCxaPPtGaN9LXz93fakWemb_YKbVpddCpgUE0VgCglHoWVco/s640/IMG_0376.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the above is because we live on Quail Rd. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUG-uGU_SY7qwJKWfNiO18ESeYXWhyn6YD8qpwCgRctbrX4iflyvhdb9QjIQSQOE_yzKlarlebrPPiyrzIOXZ7LkLCNGwtI43l7DCnuCNv6JSkZzwHuY_hd93uHWdJPu33r7JZhCJQ3_Sz/s1600/quail-310178_960_720.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="687" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUG-uGU_SY7qwJKWfNiO18ESeYXWhyn6YD8qpwCgRctbrX4iflyvhdb9QjIQSQOE_yzKlarlebrPPiyrzIOXZ7LkLCNGwtI43l7DCnuCNv6JSkZzwHuY_hd93uHWdJPu33r7JZhCJQ3_Sz/s200/quail-310178_960_720.png" width="190" /></a></div>
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-34629867606724981812018-05-20T19:44:00.000-07:002018-05-21T09:29:13.916-07:00Are we glad we did the RV thing?I sat and visited with a small group of women after church today (which included Debbie, a fellow RV-er) and some expressed their wishfulness that they too could try the RV lifestyle. One was caring for an aged parent, plus her husband did not share her wanderlust. The other had circumstances that prevented leaving hearth and home. Debbie and her husband agreed to sell their home and do two years in their 5th wheel. They're one year into it and she is hoping to extend longer. She loves it. <br />
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Then later today I got a Facebook message from an old friend living on the other side of the country who asked about our feelings regarding our two-plus years in our motor home. I started to type out my response, then decided to write it in a blog post ..... since I can get rather long-winded on subjects on which I fancy myself somewhat in the realm of *expert*.<br />
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So here goes ....<br />
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Hi Etta! So good to hear from you. <br />
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We are still living in the "Beast" since we are in the final stages of finishing our home. So we haven't tried to sell it yet. If it sells easily (fingers crossed!) then ..... we'll have no regrets. If it doesn't, then ..... we may regret it big time. The RV market is still in gang-buster mode, so we're not worried. Husband watches the ads frequently, and comparable rigs are selling for a decent price. But it was 10 years old when we bought it, and these things do anything BUT go up in value. <br />
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The first year was very different than the second year. We traveled over a lot of the western US and saw much of Washington, including Mt. Rainier, Leavenworth, and discovered our favorite -- the Palouse in eastern WA. We did Coeur d'Alene (thank you Spell Check!), Glacier Nat'l Park, Mt. Rushmore and surrounding country. We saw amazing sights in SE Oregon I'd never before heard of, revisiting our beloved Utah canyons, St. George, Lake Powell, and finally visited Sedona, AZ (my brother has been nagging me for years to go there). We saw Death Valley, Yosemite, Sequoia Nat'l Forest, Joshua Tree, Palm Springs (aaaahhhhh!), some of the California coast and other parts of CA that go under the heading of, "Once is quite enough". We also experienced Quartzite, AZ, (google it) and Yuma, and a fair amount nearby. So all in all, it was a great year ..... and a BUSY year since we also married off our youngest and I had two surgeries. Phew!<br />
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The second year was very different. We bought property and decided to build The House. Thus we have been stuck in a well-traveled rut between New Home and Old Home town ....... back and forth ..... working on said house and managing affairs on the old home front. <br />
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The first year was fun and adventurous and totally non-productive. The second year was monotonous, exhausting, and VERY productive. And after a winter on wheels in central Oregon, I am RV-ed out. I cannot WAIT to move into a real house again with limitless water, a washer/dryer, a wood stove, space, etc. <br />
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Are we glad we did it? So far ..... YES. Would I do it again? No. I'm done. I learned that I enjoy the ease and simplicity of living in 300 square feet, but I don't like driving my entire house down the street. I don't like going to much-necessary dump stations. I'm tired of "navy" showers. (If you are camped in an RV park with all the hookups, none of that matters. But those usually cost anywhere from $25-$70 a night. We usually spent in the $30/night range.) I prefer traveling in something smaller and we plan to buy another more compact RV for future traveling. There's a lot to be said about bringing your own bed along wherever you go. But no more 100% full-timing for us. <br />
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My advice if you're seriously thinking about it --<br />
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Do not buy new. These rigs are notorious for their glitches. Let someone else work through them before you buy it used. Plus the initial depreciation is off the charts.<br />
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5th wheels make a lot of sense over motor homes and are probably more popular .... but they require a sizable pickup to pull them so you're spending big bucks regardless. Motorhomes have the engines of a semi-truck, so they can be built with more quality materials, like real wood cabinets, tile floors, etc. 5th wheels simply can't load on that much weight so you see more vinyl and plastic. <br />
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Our Beast is 40 feet long with three slides, and we wouldn't have wanted to be in anything smaller since it has been our only home. It is a Country Coach which is known for quality. We watched RVTrader online for months and found it in Vancouver, WA, sold by a private party, with less than 20K miles. We knew what we wanted well before we found it and I still think it has one of the best floor plans. But when it needs to go in for repairs .... we are homeless.<br />
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Tips: Make sure that at least one of you has a minimum amount of mechanical prowess. I have none, but being married to one who has, and can keep a cool head ..... is a great comfort and help. <br />
Read RV blogs, and follow some RV podcasts. There are a lot out there and they love to give advice. Some of these people have been living the lifestyle for years. <br />
A lot of RV-ers just do the snow-bird thing. The more miles you travel, the higher the cost .... obviously. (Consider 7 MPG.) So if you go somewhere and stay there for a while before moving on, it's less expensive. And if you can dry camp (AKA boondocking, via solar panels and generator) on public land, it gets cheaper yet. (There are helpful apps to tell you where to go for that.) And Walmart over-nights are definitely the way to go if you're just passing through. <br />
Follow the weather. Do NOT winter in central Oregon. <br />
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My old posts in this blog give a lot more details. I'll link to a few below. This lifestyle is very alluring when life gets over-bearing. It is all about ESCAPE which we all long for now and then. <br />
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Let me know if you have any more questions and I'll blab some more. All the best to you and yours.<br />
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<a href="http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2017/05/things-i-have-missed-in-sticks-n-bricks.html">http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2017/05/things-i-have-missed-in-sticks-n-bricks.html</a><br />
<a href="http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/12/we-suck-at-full-timing.html">http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/12/we-suck-at-full-timing.html</a><br />
<a href="http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/08/come-on-in.html">http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/08/come-on-in.html</a><br />
<a href="http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/07/walmart-camping.html">http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/07/walmart-camping.html</a><br />
<a href="http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/06/boondocking-unhooked-unplugged.html">http://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2016/06/boondocking-unhooked-unplugged.html</a><br />
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PS -- If anyone cares about photos and/or house updates. More are coming SOON to a computer/phone/devise near you .........<br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-87210427785692077152018-03-18T17:15:00.000-07:002022-11-12T11:18:54.963-08:00Two years ...... and "only shades of gray"On March 21 (the beginning of Spring) it will be two years of living in a rolling box. <br />
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Hang yer hat on that one. <br />
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Has it been worth it? Would I do it again?<br />
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Yes and no. <br />
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If you are a low-stress person like the one to whom I am married, you can check off one of several requirements necessary for living in an RV. I am not that person. I envision every catastrophe possible as we're rolling down the road, navigating through tight traffic and into minuscule gas stations, crowded parking lots, and tent-sized camp sites. <i>Visually</i> no lane on any road is wide enough nor was ever intended to accommodate anything this big. (That's how it <i>seems</i>.) And although we are now pros at prepping the Beast for a trip, and for setting up when parked, I still do not like moving the thing. Which kind of defeats the whole point. Husband loves to take it on the road, confident that all obstacles can be overcome, because he's the <i>other</i> type of person. (See above.)<br />
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I DO like living in it when stationary in places like Palm Springs where it's warm in January and there's a swimming pool and jacuzzi just steps away. Or when you can visit out-of-state relatives and still sleep in your own bed. Having your entire house with you wherever you go, has its advantages. Imagine never having to pack a suitcase or worry you'll forget something. You not only have all your belongings with you, you even brought your own toilet. Pretty cool. <br />
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On the other hand, being stuck in an RV out in a remote part of the world, through a cold and seemingly endless winter ..... that part I'd have to think long and hard about before signing up for another year.<br />
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So .... while I have no regrets, I don't want to do it again. <br />
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Unless we'd be wintering in Palm Springs. Or Yuma. Of course.<br />
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And now ..... house update. <br />
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<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>"But today there is no day or night</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Today there is no dark or light</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Today there is no black or white</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Only shades of gray"</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>(The Monkees, 1969)</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #222222;">
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The Finish-it-Ourselves phase has begun! We spent last week painting the inside. The still-freezing-at-night weather is forcing us to delay painting the outside for now. <br />
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"Fifty Shades of Gray" is another fitting title for our color choices. More specifically, make that <i>six</i> shades of gray and counting.<i> </i>I have banished all beige from my life, and gray reigns as my new neutral. <i>Yes, since there aren't a lot of clouds outside, we'll create them inside. </i> If you're not feeling the gray-love with me, be patient. The end result, as it exists in my mind, will be gorgeous. Yes ..... <i>darn it</i>, it will. You'll see. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The photo makes it look darker than it is.</td></tr>
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Husband wanted to spray the whole thing, ceilings and all, one color. I belong to the Likes-White-Ceilings camp. (I learned at the paint store and online, that I am not alone.) Therefore, we compromised. The two guest rooms, guest bath, and laundry room have white ceilings. And the den, which we painted a darker shade of gray, has a light gray ceiling -- the same light gray as most of the rest of the house. I love my white ceilings but the price was -- I got to roll and edge all the associated walls (double coats) which took an additional two days. Needless to say, it's much slower than spraying. But white ceilings are light and bright and go with everything! I can change the wall colors some day, if I want, without having to repaint those blasted 10-foot high, overhead surfaces. Excellent investment for the future, I say.<br />
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Experimenting with exterior color combos (during a brief warm spell) and the rock is done! (That front door is a temp till the permanent one arrives.)</div>
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The other great news is .... we can use our garage! I mean, we can actually <i>put</i> things in it and it's not in anyone's way. This means ..... storage! Tools! Equipment! Our still crated wood stove! You know .... stuff!! The garage doors are still a couple of weeks away (back ordered) so we can't drive into it yet. AND it has lights with switches and everything! (It's the little things ....)<br />
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Next: Flooring. Tile and hardwood. The soreness has just begun. <br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-21284665311024030102018-02-19T16:03:00.001-08:002022-11-12T11:19:08.645-08:00Stir Crazy!We are closing in on three months of sitting. Thankfully, my dire weather prediction of this <span style="color: magenta;"><a href="https://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2017/11/sasquatch-and-murphys-law.html"><span style="color: magenta;">post</span></a> </span>did not happen. After a December cold snap (Winter-Phase 1), we had a late January/early February "tease" when the weather warmed up (close to 60 degrees a couple of days) and local Facebook friends warned to not start our gardens (Ha! As if) lest they will be cruelly zapped by the onslaught of Winter-Phase 2. During that warm spell, we trotted around in our shirt sleeves thinking, "Spring! .... Where are the crocuses?" We even bought our exterior house paint because (!) the house siding (!!) is done. (!!!) But the temps immediately plummeted making the conditions too risky for a lot of very expensive paint. So it's now sitting as well. 'Tis then we remember we are in the High Desert where crocuses don't grow and paint doesn't cure .... in February.<br />
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We live with interim periods of lots to do (as with the <a href="https://type-b-blog.blogspot.com/2018/01/ive-got-power-blah-blah-blah.html"><span style="color: magenta;">wiring</span></a>) followed by more waiting. But we're close to the end .... or at least to the end of the sheet rock stage and to the point when things really will get interesting. <br />
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<i>It's all still surreal. It seems we will live forevermore in a parked motorhome in an endless winter with an unfinished house. We pretend that someday we will actually move in ..... But it's a silly dream because, as we all know, stuff like that doesn't happen in real life. </i><br />
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So .......<br />
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....... what are we doing in the meantime?<br />
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Husband grabs every opportunity to go fishing. And he's now recruiting others. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Beware!) </span> I suspect it's a plot to take over the world, turning everyone into <strike>zombies</strike> anglers, <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">bwahahaha</span></i>. They call their recruiting stations, "fly shops", where they gather and scheme, using code words like midge, blue-wing-olive, nymph, and the like. <br />
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And I ...... um ..... go for walks, shop occasionally, hang out at the laundromat and grocery store, perfect my solitaire game, and try not to eat. Our tile, carpet, paint colors, yada yada, for the house are decided and the cabinets are ordered. That part is done. I also putz around our "yard" gathering wood scraps and deciding where we'll put things like the wood shed or my patio swing. <br />
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Needing a diversion, a few days ago we hiked into one of our fabulous neighborhood canyons so that Husband could explore another fishing spot. Check out this view which is only a few minutes from our door.<br />
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Oh, and I discovered that Redmond is a haven for antique shops. Not that I'm a big collector. But who doesn't love seeing (amongst the really old stuff) things that you routinely used when you were a kid (or got as a wedding gift and still use ..... feeling old yet?) that is now considered chic and worthy of an expensive price tag. <br />
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So that's kind of it. Stir crazy and bored. Always waiting for workers to show up and finish their latest project. And as you can probably tell by my randomness, all this sitting/waiting is causing ..... my brain cells ..... to<br />
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die off ....<br />
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one .....<br />
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by ....<br />
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one ....<br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1671778145491562220.post-4630913973754430742018-01-19T14:41:00.001-08:002018-01-20T11:06:21.089-08:00I've Got The Power <div style="text-align: center;">
The Dilemma</div>
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About a month ago we were informed by our builder that the electrician who had started on our house by nailing a few outlet boxes here and there, was let go. The reason --- apparently electricians in this part of the world are in crazy-high demand and as a result, his price <i>doubled</i>. <br />
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And our builder could not find anyone else to do the job. In fact, no one was returning his calls. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The Solution</div>
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Husband is now our electrician and I am the assistant. He and his dad wired our home 30 years ago, so with that limited experience, copious online research, questions to experts, frequent visits to a new home being wired nearby, and as little guesswork as possible, we have been hoisting, hauling, pulling, and stripping endless miles of wire. Plus hammering nails, drilling holes, dragging heavy ladders from one end of the house to the other, and daily runs to Home Depot. The homeowner, working on his own home, is the only non-licensed entity allowed to do such a thing, so our options were limited, to say the least. At this point, we are nine days in and The Electrical Monster To Do List is growing mercifully shorter. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ66M0t1_jGnHkTgzTf_hP1YqQB7naYGTTM23b-eNraRoGf4vKxSGU8K-0V-YlUCOGstj5M3OivIBtgtAmGTKwvbvB22oju21p07ojnIKiCbGJvFhFRljDhDmB3xXYg8HHmK2NyA2cu97W/s1600/IMG_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ66M0t1_jGnHkTgzTf_hP1YqQB7naYGTTM23b-eNraRoGf4vKxSGU8K-0V-YlUCOGstj5M3OivIBtgtAmGTKwvbvB22oju21p07ojnIKiCbGJvFhFRljDhDmB3xXYg8HHmK2NyA2cu97W/s640/IMG_0084.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I texted this picture to our kids saying, "We found an affordable electrician and he's cute!" They didn't realize it was their dad. (Hehehehe.)</td></tr>
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As I said in a previous post, the original plan was to finish the house ourselves. This meant flooring, paint, trim, hang cabinets, and pavers outside. Or, in other words, the <i>pretty </i>stuff. Stuff that, after a day's work, one could step back and admire the fruits of one's labor before collapsing into an exhausted heap. Wiring, as essential as it is, is not pretty. By five o'clock each day, when we are bone-weary and out of daylight, we don't have the reward of a pretty hardwood floor, a painted wall, or a trimmed window. We have a tangle of unsightly wires going every direction within the stud walls that, a few months ago, were exciting to see but are now tiresome and in dire need of covering up .... with .... sheetrock .... please! The upside is that from now on, when I plug in an appliance or turn on a light, I will know exactly where that blessed electricity came from and the route it took to get there. Plus Yours Truly has earned her very own tool belt.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5LY-b088QzesQMfTo_6A2jnSpQtaISoi66ELu5flQ9uR7UC6f__nWwp11BI57H-pyQ6Nq1TFsmQ1ZtRuexXwP9HnKcP7pnOpQbwZ-rppw-b7CsFrBzQFd1Xp5LpeOxAhmwyai08MtVgy/s1600/IMG_0107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1212" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5LY-b088QzesQMfTo_6A2jnSpQtaISoi66ELu5flQ9uR7UC6f__nWwp11BI57H-pyQ6Nq1TFsmQ1ZtRuexXwP9HnKcP7pnOpQbwZ-rppw-b7CsFrBzQFd1Xp5LpeOxAhmwyai08MtVgy/s400/IMG_0107.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Needless to say, we were on ladders a LOT. These 10 foot ceilings were certainly not MY idea.</td></tr>
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Longtime Friend Dave, who happens to be an electrician as well as a very kind and sympathetic soul, and who lives in our previous hometown 3.5 hours away ..... is driving out tomorrow to spend a couple of days correcting our mistakes and finishing up, in hopes to placate the county inspector. I told Husband I don't want to be there when Dave first arrives at the house and sees our work. I'm too afraid of hearing ..... "Um, looks like we've got a problem." ... in stead of, "Looks good! You guys don't need me!" <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Update and The Result</div>
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Dave came bringing much wisdom and expertise and guided us to within sight of the finish line. Turns out <i>most </i>of what had been done before he got there was okay. Thank you, Dave!!!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAN8JTsLVQT0cFfFrvRH4Hdcgi_KZ5w3Lr9nluoYriXDeLYokeeZnSW3a1G2ZBwMPzUzVbSYdfQH9LHI1vAlSDMqQ2PUjxVlP-BER_POFkP7KiKfOXP3e-3ETa3JKhacrTHkvzmznGGgx/s1600/IMG_0103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAN8JTsLVQT0cFfFrvRH4Hdcgi_KZ5w3Lr9nluoYriXDeLYokeeZnSW3a1G2ZBwMPzUzVbSYdfQH9LHI1vAlSDMqQ2PUjxVlP-BER_POFkP7KiKfOXP3e-3ETa3JKhacrTHkvzmznGGgx/s640/IMG_0103.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I call that panel where all wires converge, the "Mother Ship".</td></tr>
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'Twas another long day after Dave left to finish it all before The Inspection. We felt like we were up against finals at the end of a long semester. <br />
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But as it turned out, the inspector was VERY nice and hardly looked at most of the details we were somewhat nervous about. He almost seemed more interested our plumbing and happily offered a few tips about the bathtub. <br />
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And we passed!!!!! <br />
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Another hurdle cleared.<br />
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P.S. Much credit goes to Husband who puts in the bulk of the work and long hours, with much more to come. I am reminded yet again, that he can do pretty much anything he puts his mind to. And I deserve the credit for marrying well. <br />
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<br />Brendahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06370997379280550626noreply@blogger.com0