Which way?

There are mountains between Borrego Springs and Oceanside, and a choice of routes. None are very fast, and each has its pleasures and annoyances.

Google Maps recommends Highway 76, because it’s a tiny bit shorter and faster. But, I don’t know, I’ve gone that way several times before (because it’s a tiny bit shorter and faster) and I guess I was in the mood for the road less taken.

Highway 78 is the next quickest (if two-lane mountain roads can be quick in a van). But, man, I hate going through Escondido. Too much traffic, too many lights, too many turns to miss.

I was in no big hurry, so I chose Highway 79. Longer, slower. It was extra slow this time. First there was the semi loaded with produce. Then there were three spots where bridge reconstruction took traffic down to one lane. (It looked for a moment like the semi was going to get wedged between the guardrail and construction barrier.) Then the place of the slow semi was taken by a slow car. Then lunch traffic in Temecula. But I took several deep breaths and thought of the camping spot at the beach. And I thought about how great it is to live this way, how great it is to have options.

Down to the sea again

7:12 AM, Oceanside, California

I feel like I'm killing Bambi

According to reports, there’s a huge surge in painted lady butterflies this year. What the reports don’t mention is that some of them don’t know to fly higher over highways and their migration gets cut short.

A proposal

Portable generators, and generators built into RVs, should have tamper-proof proximity sensors that disable said generators when they are within a half mile of me.

Bloomers

It’s time for the wildflower bloom in the Anza-Borrego desert (and elsewhere). The exceptionally wet winter means there should be an exceptionally abundant bloom. So even though it’s midweek, the desert equivalent of New England’s “leaf peepers” are out looking for blossoms.

That’s not what brings me here, though. First, it’s a change of location. That’s always important to me. Second, it’s a stopoff on the way to the coast. There’s a break in the chilly, rainy, beach-unfriendly weather they’ve been having most of the winter. Yay!

Oh, and third, it means some pie in Julian. I should organize a competition between all the small towns known for pie. Julian CA, Pie Town NM, and so on. I will be the only judge.

Sick, sick people

I’ve been trying for several days to come up with adequate words to express my anger, disgust and sadness. Carolyn, of the Carolyn’s RV Life YouTube channel, has had to deal with not only the standard-issue trolls and assholes, but also death threats. Vile, graphic, lewd, detailed death threats. Death threats! Why? Pretty much simply because she’s someone on YouTube. And because there are some very, very sick people out there who need victims in order to feel powerful.

But I realized you don’t need my words, because Carolyn’s words are more than enough. You will feel what I feel. Or more.

However, the good news is that one of threat makers has been arrested.

Wet

It was mostly sunny and a pleasant temperature where I was, but the next couple of days would be rainy. About three hours away it was already raining but the next few days would be mostly sunny and pleasant.

A plan was hatched. If the rain is headed east I would drive west, into the leading edge of the front, then let the rest of the storm pass in the night.

The choice is yours

There was never any debate between me and myself over whether I should sell the house, get rid of nearly all my stuff, and live in a van. It was an instant, “Yes!”

It’s not a simple decision for many. There are a lot of pros and cons for them to consider. And reconsider. And turn inside out and upside down.

Some folks are exceptionally good at seeing every side of a proposition and making convincing arguments for and against every alternative—which keeps them from making any choice.

Others are torn between rational and emotional reasons.

And some have reached the point where they just don’t know, where they can’t even form coherent thoughts about it anymore.

My therapist had a little trick for breaking through indecisiveness. “I’m going to ask you a question. I want you to immediately give the first answer that pops into your head. No thinking about it first. Just react. Ready? Here it is: What do you want to do?”

His theory is that you usually do know what you want. Once you’ve named the thing you want, you can examine the reasons your choice wasn’t clear, or why you resisted it. Was it because you didn’t see a way to make it happen? Would the thing you want violate your ethics or the law? Would it harm someone you care about? Focus on the real reasons. Then, if you still want that thing, turn your time and energy toward ways to make it happen.

Indecision is exhausting. Fighting yourself is exhausting. Knowing the answer then finding the way is energizing.

So, quickly, without thinking, what do you want?

Confronting the monster

I was a kid during the Cold War. We lived in fear of The Bomb. We could all die at any moment—especially since we lived in the suburbs of the prime target: Washington DC. During the Cuban Missile Crisis we had (useless) air raid drills every day. Sometimes twice a day. It was a hell of a way to grow up.

How did any of us who lived through that period come out sane? (Are we sane?)

A few years later (because The Big One hadn’t dropped and I wasn’t dead) I read about the aftermath of the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and about how the current nuclear weapons were much more powerful. I decided if the sirens ever blew I wouldn’t run for shelter. I’d step outside and hope to be vaporized, because I wouldn’t want to live in the world that would be left.

When I found out the other day there were tours of a decommissioned Titan II missile silo outside Tucson, I thought it would be “fun” to dredge up old anxieties and revisit the concept of mutually-assured destruction. Yay, peace (or at least a stalemate) through nuclear deterrence.

I didn’t freak out.

I was impressed by the launch procedure. Double checks of double checks of double checks. It made me feel a wee bit better about our remaining nuclear arsenal. But what safeguards against accidental or malicious launch do the other nuke countries employ?

The rocket was smaller than I had imagined from photos. And it seemed odd they painted US Air Force on the side. Was there any chance of confusion whose missile was in the silo? Did they imagine the Soviets would be able to read the incoming rocket and know who was about to obliterate them? “Oh, that’s good to know. We wouldn’t want to blame the wrong country or branch of military.”

The actual warhead was also much smaller than I had imagined. About the size of a kitchen wastebasket, but powerful enough to instantly kill everything within a 35-mile radius. Even kids hunched under their desks.

Gas pain

I’ve done the move hundreds of times. Put the fuel nozzle in the filler neck, begin pumping gas, get the squeegee, then step over the loop of the fuel hose on my way to cleaning the windshield. No problem. Until today.

My toe barely caught on the hose, throwing me off balance. Whoa Nelly, we’re going down! Drop the squeegee! Flail those arms! Grab something!

I managed to stop short of the ground, but not before raking my wrist across the corner of the brick pillar supporting the roof. And not before pulling up part of the thumbnail of the other hand.

So, is this my life now? Banging myself up in some type of minor tumble every couple of months? I fell in January when my toe caught while stepping over a trailer I was helping to assemble. In November I ended up on the ground when my ankle buckled on a loose rock.

It makes me feel old. “Hello, I’m Mr. Clumsiness, your new companion.” Go away.

What this photo says

1 I’m staying in a casino parking lot. A nice one. Casino del Sol near Tucson.

2 It’s warm enough to have the door open and my shoes off even though the sun is going down.

Those two things mean I'm contented. And on the move.

Not out of my way

Some of the best bagels I’ve ever had outside New York are in a small shop in Surprise, Arizona: Hot Bagels & Deli. So whenever I’m in the greater Phoenix area I make a happy detour to W. Bell Road and Grand Avenue (US-60). In fact, there have been a couple of times I made excuses to go to Phoenix just so I could score properly made bagels.

One of their bagels is enough to hold me an entire day. However, I don’t go all that way to have just one. Sure, having two is like eating half a loaf of bread and a tub of cream cheese, but it’s not like I do it often. Though I certainly would love to. Hmmm, I just realized it’s Fat Tuesday.

Deep snow or short sign

I enjoy this

I rarely saw things like this back when I lived a normal life. I would be inside most evenings, recovering from the craziness of work. But right now, even though there are other boondockers around me and the highway about a hundred yards away, it’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. I’m happy, even though my resting face of contentment doesn’t particularly look it.

Local flora