Suitcase Nomads

We have been suitcase nomads for five weeks and have one week left to complete before we head home.  There are lessons to be learned from living in houses that are not your own.  You have no personal possessions except what fits in a suitcase and those things are clothes and hygiene products.
Clothes are mixed and matched to stretch the options without taking half your closet.  When the processes begins, usually the clothes are okay and work well.  After a few weeks they become less appealing and a love hate situation begins to build.  The jacket worn daily for days in the Idaho weather starts to feel not so friendly and cozy; the color, fit, style are now unappealing and you curse the cold that forces the necessity of having it accompany you everywhere you go.

We have been in two very different climates.  California was warm and sunny. Coats and heavy sweaters were not part of the wardrobe.  Two weeks and you feel like a native and pretend that it will last forever and you can stay in paradise, but suddenly reality slaps you hard.  The short airplane ride back to Idaho is part of a cruel trick.  In an hour and half how can you go from warmth to--dumping things out of the carry on in the airport to find a jacket so you can go outside and wait for a taxi.  Shocking!

You also find out that other people have nicer things than you do!

Bree and Georgia both have high end knife sets.  These knives actually cut with no effort.   The small knife slices a tomato without squashing it to a mess of seeds and pulp.  I don't have nice knives.  Mine are not meant for fine slicing and dicing.  They are made for hacking.  I have met the green eyed monster--jealousy!  I want their knives.  Nolan says I'm fine with what I have and a good set could be dangerous.  Having watched me sling knives for over forty years he says he would be nervous if I had a really sharp one.  He may be right, but that doesn't stop me from coveting them.

Moving from place to place makes you resourceful and tidy.  The house is not yours, but you are its care taker.  It must be the same when you leave as when you came.  House plants depend on you for survival.  Its a fine line deciding how much water they need and how often.  Their people would not look on you kindly if they came home to dead plants.  Most likely, you would not be invited back.  When I left Bree's her plant seemed healthy and happy.  Georgia's seem okay, although one has struggled a bit, but it appears to be doing much better--needed more water. 

This has been fun and interesting, but I think we are ready to go home to our bed, dishes, plants(which have been left untended because they are succulents), different clothes and familiar knives.  Would we do it again?  Sure we are up for almost anything out of the norm--we've had a good time. We've had two glorious weeks on our own in La Jolla and reconnected with friends and family in Boise.  Now it is time to go home and check on our Idaho friends and family.  We can't leave them on their own for too long.

Palm Springs

Someone in this travel party of two made the suggestion--"Let's go to Palm Springs.  Its only a two hour drive."  When you hail from a state like Idaho a drive of a couple of hours is easy, relaxed and does not happen on a race track.  The person planning the little trip happens to be a passenger not the driver and is great at arranging these little jaunts then just sits back and rides.  The driver usually goes along with the plans and thinks about the validity of the decision.

   
It seemed many- many people were going to Palm Springs.  Many- many people are always going places in California.  What was a two hour trip turned into a three hour journey because of construction.  Traffic lanes narrowed down to two then down to one.  Creeping along gave
us a chance to notice how the terrain changed.  We moved through mountains with huge outcrops of boulders to mountains of scrub brush and finally mountains of sand.

  We passed acres of wind farms providing a source of renewable power for a small amount of the population.  The wind blows through that area much like Idaho Falls or maybe-- would I dare say even harder.  Once we entered the city itself it was a whole new world.  Calm, slow traffic, little traffic.  A small spot in the desert that absorbs all the tension people bring with them. It is easy to understand why it is a popular vacation spot.  43,000 call Palm Springs home.  Thankfully it is an area that has not been over run or over worked.

 

 

     Many of the tract homes built in the 50'sand 60's by Alexander Construction Company are a coveted piece of real estate.  Very simple style-- they were affordable and had interesting lines.  Each house was the  the city's history.  If you own one of these homes you are among the lucky.  California modern style was a new, fresh idea which still thrives today.

 

An afternoon gave us a small taste of Palm Springs.  More time could have been spent, but we chose the Palm Springs Art Museum and a drive through older neighborhoods looking for the unique homes.  Considering the slow pace at which travel takes place, we ran out of time.  If it was bad coming, going back to San Diego during rush hour could be daunting. Contemplating a long, slow drive we bought food to eat along the way--black licorice, potato chips and mixed nuts.  A less hectic drive back.  Junk food always helps.

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Doing Laundry

I had to do a little bit of laundry today. Being a light traveler makes airport navigation easy, but somewhere before the trip is over I have to do laundry.  Of course, that means a trip to a laundry facility.  I am not totally new to such places--I just haven't had to use them for many years.  I made many trips to the basement of our apartment in S. Weymouth Massachusetts apartment for the purpose of providing clean apparel for our small family.  I carried a baby in the basket of clothes down the stairs while a toddler waited at the top for me to return to get him.  I would put him on my right hip, the detergent and a toy care in my left hand and head back down. 

Neils and Bree have a great little apartment, but no in house washer and dryer. This is the first time I have walked down an alley to reach a laundry facility--not saying that is bad just different.

You exit through the back, down the stairs and into the alley.  Not a bad alley as allies go--no dark corners, or garbage piled high. 

Actually it is a pleasant alley. Other apartments have entrances from there along with employee entrances to the shops facing Girard Street. I think alleys have character simply because they are naked and up front with no pretense--they are what they are.  This alley has a lot going for it.  Two little yellow apartments are hidden there.  Small wooden homes built many years ago, perhaps before their street became an alley.



A gate to --maybe the secret garden

There is no  direct route to this secreted washer and dryer.  Turn left then, turn right and you still haven't a clue.  Just keep walking straight ahead and look for the white door on your right.  Never would you ever guess that in a tiny space behind that door would be a washer and dyer both fully equipped with coin slots.  The sign makes it official---OPEN DAILY 8:00 to 10:00.  Two loads and
we are clean again.  When the last load went into the dryer the next customer was filling the washer with her soon to be clean clothes.  She had tied her dirty clothes in a plastic garbage bag and launched it  from a second story window.  
  
 Had a quick chat with her and found out she had a double knee replacement recently and wishes people would not be so careless with the little laundry room.  Off she went to open the door to one of the little yellow houses in the alley.  An interesting two hours.  One never knows what waits down an alley.

 

 

 

 

Launch site of dirty laundry.  I wonder what really goes on behind that closed door.

 

 

 

                                                                                                                            

 

 

 

Something Different

Its lucky we are to have kids that turn their apartment over to us in scenic La Jolla Village for two weeks while they vacation.  There is no problem having fun here: the ocean, weather, food, interesting locals, flowers--what more could a person ask for.  When friends back home tell you snow is in the forecast, this is the place to be.

A small apartment but done in style.  A comfort attractive homey place

We are nomads living out of suitcases trying to keep things organized.  I have a tendency to misplace items.  It would help if I traveled with a suit case that had no zipper pockets, yet I fear not having enough room to pack all I need thus the necessity of pockets. I have no solution for the problem since I refuse to travel with less.  I am already down to the bare bones.



The apartment is in a fun downtown section. Above the red awning is the window looking onto the street.

We can hear the people laughing and talking as they walk down the street.  Things come alive about 6:00 as they look for places to shop and have dinner.  It is warm enough to open the windows and enjoy a nice breeze off the ocean as well as the sounds of street life.

With no agenda.  We have stayed in La Jolla today walking and exploring.  There is much to see and blocks to hike. A favorite walk is always along the beach to check out the surfers and the seals. Tomorrow I think the farmer's market in Little Italy is on our to do list After that well, we just have to see.  

I am fascinated by the amount of shopping taking place here. High end shops call this part of La Jolla home and have faithful consumers.  I wander into the shops to browse and immediately am asked if I need something special.  Oh ya--right.  Next question--are you from here?  Why are they asking--Do I stand out like a sore thumb?  I am wearing a necklace, earrings and a Jones of New York shirt.  My Jeans are almost skinny.  What is the give away--my payless shoes?  That must be it.  Tomorrow I will wear my Sketchers. 









 

Passing of Fall

This is one of those fall days that  teases and plays with you. The wind has taken all the leaves and the trees stand naked in the afternoon sun.  The sun peaks out from behind the clouds long enough to give hope of maybe just a few more bright days.  It will not linger long because it fights with large gray clouds determined to over shadow the light.

The shadows are long now and the flowers are tucking in for the winter rest.


Fall seems to come soft and quiet turning everything in nature to a variety of colors.  The back yard flowers slip into shades of brown while the trees move from green to yellow, gold, rust and red.  Its hard to let the color go. Its eye candy and the inner part of you drinks it up savoring every last bit. 

 

 

The mountains change section by section depending on their vegetation.  Yellow more common that red.  Stands of aspens cluster together forming a solid ball of yellow.


The wind is moving in and pulling the leaves from the trees blowing them into piles and scattering bits and pieces randomly across the ground. 

















The trees in my yard are bare and stand guard as they bend in the wind. The empty bird feeder hangs from the lowest branch and swings back and forth. My flower beds will stay covered with leaves for the winter. Somehow I just feel better knowing the perennials have a blanket for those cold nights before snow adds another layer.  We follow seasons finding something good in each one.  There is always something to look forward to; changes that bring a spark of color or a warm wind or the white flakes of snow.  As fall slips away,  I  remind myself to look for the best of what is left of this season and to see winter as a time of rest and renewal embracing each day and what it offers me.
    

Moving Cattle

My box just became a little bigger this week.  Jean invited me to ride up to her ranch with her. The cattle have spent the summer grazing in the mountains around the homestead area of Dehlin. As winter is approaching, they have to be rounded up and trucked back down to the valley ranch. Their summer range has turned to gold and deep yellow. Soon the trees will drop their leaves in anticipation of snow.

The black angus bunch together as the men push them toward the corral.  Bawling to each other they follow the leader down the hills and eventually into the pen. For some this a remembered experience and they lead the younger cows through the gate.  They are a noisy group as they come together and group up. A four wheeler pushes behind them along with a gaiter to keep them moving, One man on a mule and another on a horse keep them from moving too far apart. The old way and the new way have come together making the job faster and easier, while the mule and horse still keep the color and flavor of the past alive.

Jean and her niece, Sara, have a hot meal waiting for the men as they come in.  A tailgate lunch at a cattle round up as much more atmosphere than tailgating before a football game.  The air is crisp and the wind plays with the paper plates and napkins. Sara's hot barbecue sandwiches along with Jean's macaroni salad, cookies and brownies are a perfect fit for hungry men and boys.  The back of a flat bed pickup makes a perfect table.

This is a yearly ritual--getting together to help your neighbor and enjoying a good meal together at the end of the day.  No one seems to act like this is work, but rather a fun way to bring fall to a close.

Jean has been part of this annual event all of her married life.  Driving up she expresses her love of the area and appreciation for its stark beauty. I understand her feelings and see the beauty also. Her life is much different than mine, yet we still find a common ground in the beauty and richness of the land. I am fortunate she invites to share these things with her. I am not so much city that I can't be a little bit country.  

Hanging In There

I am reluctantly coming to grips with the changing of the wind, the low sun and cooler nights. While each has its own peace and softer presence, I know that this period is short lived. All these changes signal the passing of summer. I have not complained about the too warm days where temperatures soared into the high 90's and stayed for days.; Soaking it all up, I stored them for the cold days ahead when the sun does not make an appearance.
It has taken me a number of years to realize I am a sun person; one of those people who needs vitamin D in large doses. My supply of vitamin D supplements for the winter will soon be replenished and faithfully taken each day.  I trick my mind into a false sense of security in spite of the lack of a brilliant blue sky and a sun hiding behind gray clouds.  I'm all for trickery when necessary and proud of it.  After all who wants to live with a grump from December to March.  I certainly don't and I know Nolan doesn't want to.

I don't want a face lift or botox (well maybe).  The wrinkles can be remedied by removing my contacts and avoiding mirrors a much cheaper solution.  The up side to that is also being able to retain the ability to smile.  So each morning as I down my little white pill I will smile broadly and know that modern medicine is a gift and will gladly accept what it is offering me.  Oh yes, I'm adding omega-3 fish oil--got to keep that heart happy.

A Little Change Up

 

I blog about places we visit and trips we take.  Nothing too out of the norm or exciting, just a visit to another state or even another county.  That is all well and good, but not too exciting or adventurous.  Let me tell you that sometimes a change is in order to get the blood moving and the heart pumping with a little more enthusiasm.  The plan of action--rent a two up four wheeler and ride the endless trails in Island Park.

 
The rental agreement said no wheelies or jumps--so disappointing.  I understand there are those riders who abuse the equipment and bring them back in not a pristine condition.  Not being ones to ignore rules we opt to skip the wild stuff and just ride sanely down the trails.  Fun is possible without speed, careening down the hills and bouncing over boulders  Age may dictate that conclusion as well as the accumulation of common sense.  It was enough to cruse along taking the bumps and dips at a sensible speed. The summer heat had not touched the wild flowers and they still bloomed cheerily spreading color among the green foliage and pines.

This little change up experiment may or may not have been a good idea.  As with so many experiences,  things move from one to another and mushroom along the way. Needless to say the four wheeler day trip touched a spark and the thought of owner ship began to grow.  Too much fun!  After a few days of exploration and looking at our options a decision was made.  Anyone who know us will understand how incredibly difficult it was  to arrive at a decision.  In the end only one half  took the plunge.

 I am now the proud owner of a 110 Yamaha trail bike.  It was love at first sight.  Nolan hasn't fallen in love yet.  I just jumped harder and faster.  Perhaps this love affair is coming a little late in life, but   age never goes backward and I feel the best action is to run as fast as you can never stopping until you can run no longer.  At that point it is okay to sit down and put your fit up.  Until then go forward and never look back.  Find that wild side and take a ride.

There is always the option of personal creation when it comes to taking that wild ride.  If it doesn't fit your needs--adapt the equipment.      

 Anyone can find and old chair back.  Such resourcefulness--I am always impressed at man's ability to adapt and his creative expression.

Now and Then

I can still remember my first telephone number--2749M.  The phone sat on a desk in the corner of the dining room.  A big black heavy handed animal.  There was nothing small or sleek about this communication device.  It was large in a child's hand and awkward.  I only remember calling one person on the phone and that was Aunt Myrtle, my mother's youngest sister.  It was a treat to use the phone and since kids didn't call each other like they do today the only person I had a number for was Aunt Myrtle.  I didn't call to talk, but made the call for my mother.

When you picked the phone up off the cradle the operator's voice responded with, "number please, and you repeated the number of the person you wanted to speak with.  She made the connection and you waited for the your party to pick up.  The operator could tell if the line was already connected and would respond with, "that line is busy." 

Party lines were common with two people sharing the same line, but with different numbers.  You had to listen for your ring--two rings or one.  If the party you shared the line with was using the phone you couldn't receive or make calls.  Annoying!  But you could, if you were very careful, lift the phone and listen in.  Aunt Myrtle did that a lot much to my mother's horror. I tried that at home and was busted almost immediately.  Maybe that could be compared today's wiring tapping.

I suppose the technology of today is superior from a convenience standpoint, but it is time consuming. Now you have to remember to charge your phone or you are dead in the water which creates a state of panic.  Heaven forbid --you may be out of touch with your dozens and dozens of friends who made need to make an emergency call to you.  Nor can you send little senseless notes to your family and friends about nothing.  Oh wait--you can't take a picture of yourself standing in front of the library either.  Oops! I forgot your don't use the library because you have a book on your phone or your nook or your kindle or your computer.

I keep my notebook plugged in at all times.  Every three days I charge my nook,  phone and ipod.  I no longer remember phone numbers because they are in my contacts on my phone, I receive and send stupid messages and use the ipod as a camera since I don't have a conventional one.  When I travel I have to reserve a special luggage pocket for adaptors and chargers so I can stay in touch with everything and everyone  I am trying to leave behind.

 

When I concentrate very hard and remove myself from the clutter of my surroundings, I can still feel the magic of being a little girl living in a world with a big black monstrosity called a phone and a square box emitting voices and black and white figures.  I liked being that little girl in that quiet, simple world.

Grab the Day

  


 Summer  has been slow in getting going.  Some how she has forgotten her quick step and replaced it with a waltz.  Yesterday started gloomy and of course windy--not the best day to haul bikes out for a short trip.  After deliberation and some hesitation we decided to just go for it.  Jackson Hole was the planned destination  and from past experience we have learned that crossing to the other side of the mountains often opens up a window of better weather.  Dark grey clouds loomed in front of us guiding us through Antelope Flats and into Swan Valley, over the pass into Teton and on over the mountain to Jackson.  Sun and light wind greeted us as we followed the curve of the road into Wilson.    

It turned out to be a grab it day.  Perfect in so many ways: mild temperature, moderate breeze, few people and broken clouds.  There are experiences which just happen and grow as the day develops with little direction on our part and this was one of those days. 

Too much worry and the search for perfection throw up road blocks and discourage risk taking.  Not everything should be approached with perfection in mind.  That perfect sun, the blue sky, the right temp--just doesn't come together very often.  But who cares.  Time moves too fast during an Idaho summer and the days we are given are meant to be used. 

  We took a chance and the day paid us back in full.  Lucky us!  The lesson learned--don't be a foot dragger.

 

 

Gee I got a medal
 

Smiles, a great attitude and positive approach to a major bump in the road.

 

Twelve thousand  people joined in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Boise Mother's Day weekend.  Seven hundred of the participants were survivors.  You see families in the white t-shirts walking with a family member wearing a pink shirt which lets everyone know that she is a survivor. 

 

These women have battled a private war and have come through much stronger and more self assured for what they have experienced.  Not only is the race about raising money for breast cancer research, but it is a celebration of life and individual victories. 

 

The logo on the white shirts--INSPIRED-- is representative of the attitude shared by all walkers wearing them.  They support and praise those in pink who have journeyed farther than just the 1k or the 5k. 

She is the survivor and I am inspired!

Never too young

 

The Harley ladies--Leaders of the Pack

A fun atmosphere almost like a carnival

If you show up be prepared to have a good time and even be a little silly.  A good costume helps

 

 

 the sillier the better   

   Will Kathy and I be back next year?  You bet we will.

Oh So Good

Long before we knew that some of our favorite comfort foods were not really all that comforting we were a happy people.  We blissful ate at our local drive in and indulged in such horrible things as hand dipped corn dogs deep fried in GREASE which was saved and used over and over again.  Sides like onion rings and French fries, also cooked in that same grease accompanied the dog.  All the fat contained in this delicious combo was washed down with a thick chocolate shake. 

 

Sometimes you just have to relive the days of ignorance and marvel at how blissfully uncomplicated life was.  If it tasted good we ate it with no guilt or calorie counter.  Many of our memories are associated with food.  As a child going to the drive in for a hamburger, fries and coke was a special treat.  The 50's introduced us to the fast food.  You pulled into the parking lot and walked to the window to order and waited while everything was freshly cooked.  You sat outside at a table or ate in your car.  When I was in Jr. High my friends an I walked to the Jumbo Drive Inn with a dollar and ordered a 50 cent hamburger, 25 cent coke and a small order of fries also 25 cents.  What a treat.

 

We had no idea we were eating unhealthy fat depositing food.  The trip for hamburgers was not a daily or even weekly experience.  It was a special treat with days and weeks passing before the next grease surge.  We had no idea we were eating junk food.  There was no quilt associated with consuming onion rings, a shake, chocolate sundae, or hamburger; only joy and satisfaction.

 

Occasionally it is good to resurrect the fond memories of drive in food; to just eat it because you want it and because it tastes darn good.  Evidently others feel that way too because when we visit the Fanci Freeze in Boise we stand in line to order.  During the winter we eat outside in a large heated tent, and in warm weather we sit at outside tables with umbrellas.  There has to be something about the over used grease that feeds the soul and calls us back because Fanci Freeze  has served comfort food since 1947. I figure several times a year I can visit and eat whatever I want.  No quilt, remorse or calorie counting is allowed to come along and spoil the experience. Just give me a hand full of napkins and I am a happy camper.

A Spring Day

 After months of gray skies, wind and

cold temps, I am hungry for the color green.  The grass is changing from brown to emerald green and 
the soft green of new leaves brings a lightness to the air.  Spirits begin to lift and everything and everyone comes alive.  It is time to breath deeply and enjoy the clean new season of spring.


This season called spring creates a new energy--the need to get outside. Today we took  our favorite bikes, the cruisers to Blackfoot to ride the path along the river.  It was a beautiful quite morning a fresh new day with sun just waiting to be soaked up.  The trees are bursting with new growth and the river bank is still free of brush and tangled vines. A heron fly low along the bank and landed ahead of us.  We quietly searched until we found him hidden in the willows.  On a perfect spring day even the ever present dandelion shines.  Today I welcomed its bright yellow buttons and thought of it as a flower and not a weed. 

   

 

 

 

 

 

So Much To See

So Much Too See

Little Italy farmers market----San Diego

I have a restless soul, a soul that needs to move and stretch, a soul that needs to be fed. 
There is always something more to see and experience further a field.  Here is not enough.
Sometimes I have to leave the wide open spaces and seek the larger, more crowded arena.
People I don't know and have never seen before and will never see again intrigue me.
I like the color of noise and crowds and tall buildings stretching toward the sky.  The
activities of lives pushed together in a shared space makes me feel energetic, invigorated
and large.  I don't mind. sharing the sidewalk with people who bump my shoulder or ridding in
a bus rather than a car and even the grinding subway train is musical.

out door cafe Little Italy (phot shopped)

succulents big and luscious

My day to day space is small, brown and tiny.  I like coming back to it, but I also like leaving it.
Perhaps, I want too much of the world and should be content with what I have at hand.  I can plant my feet for only so long and  they begin to itch with wander lust, and soon my thoughts turn
toward some place diffeent.  There is more beyond here and now.  Someday I may be content to
rest and watch things move past me and not be a participant.  I hope not, but until then I will not think about it and allow my curiosity to propel me forward.