Realtor!

We met with a realtor today... 

No, we are not yet ready to list, but it is a first step...

We still have lots to do, but it was a very positive experience.

:~) 

Better than Prozac

Before I explain what could be better than Prozac, I want to say hi to Anne and welcome her as a follower. Anne is an old high school friend of my daughter, and lives in Massachusetts. I haven't seen her for years, but I've seen pictures of her charming daughters on their Christmas cards. When the girls were school pals, she was like a second daughter around our house. I'm not sure how she found my blog, but it's great fun to have renewed a connection!

Before getting to the Prozac, I want to tell you a true story about my daughter as a small child. She has always been a project-oriented person. When we were young, Craig brought home large listings on greenbar paper (11" x 24" computer printouts) that I would separate and give to the kids for drawing paper. One day, when she was about four or five, she sat at the coffee table and began to draw picture after picture, carefully stacking them up as she went. She continued this for a couple of afternoons. She drew elephants and giraffes, bears and boats, kitties and kites, people and houses. Finally she handed me the stack and said, as only a five year old could, something like "Here, now I have drawn everything. I don't have to draw any more." She has always been a very creative person and this was not a rejection of art. But at that point she felt like she had done it all and was ready to move on! 

It took me a lot longer to feel the same way. But when I closed the studio and shut down the web site this spring, I felt like I had created everything I was ever going to create! For years I had not had time nor inclination to do crafts "just for myself". Everything I did was because someone else wanted it and was willing to pay me to make it. Yes, I did do some speculative pieces, but I always had the market in mind. 

What next? Would there be a next? Did there have to be a next?

During the last few months I have done a bit of sewing, helped with work on the house, and made a few things for the Alfa, but my creative force has been stuck. Nothing has called to me. I have a degree in art, but I'm not a painter. I like fiber, but am not a knitter, or weaver. I am not drawn to following patterns or kits. 

Neither my eyes nor my fingers are much good for really small close work anymore. 

I think I found it. When I say it is better than Prozac, I really do mean it. Since I have taken up this new craft I have been much calmer and more relaxed. 

So ... what is it?

Needlepoint. Not the small picky needlepoint. Not the "buy a printed canvas picture of cute kittens and fill in the stitches" type of needlepoint.

Big needlepoint, done on plastic canvas with a big needle and regular 4 ply knitting yarn. I'm having fun creating my own designs and images. 

Lynne, an Alfa owner, shared some needlepoint placemats she has been working on during one of the Happy Hours at the Alfa Rally. I just had to try it.

I bought some plastic canvas and yarn in colors similar to the Pendleton Blanket we bought at Crater Lake and use to cover the sofa in the Alfa.

After a couple of frustrating starts and pick-outs, I settled on making some small sampler squares using Indian-like motifs and geometrics. 

My first project was to sew six of them (plus a separately cut top) together to make a Kleenex Box cover. 

I have a bunch of ideas for squares. Beetles, butterflies, fish, dragonflies, and birds to name a few. It's fun to just do geometrics too. 

I will probably get tired of it by the time we go on the road, but if not, it meets the size, weight, and cost requirements of an RV hobby.

I know many of you are wonderful photographers -- what other hobbies do you have?

Update on our Son, some house progress, and a wildlife sighting in the Valley of Fire

Our son's name is Gil, but ever since he was an exchange student in high school, his chosen nick name and his internet identity has been Joko.  I'm sure he has told me what it meant,  but I have forgotten. I asked again before he left. It seems "Gil" is very hard for many Southeast Asians to pronounce. Joko is the equivalent to  "Joe", an easy name to say and remember.

In his blog Leaving Amerika, he has been chronicling his new life in Thailand. Both good and bad things have happened to him, but he has carried on as only Gil would do!  Even if I was not his mother, I would recommend his blog and his videos as interesting and amusing reading.  If you check it out, leave him a comment.  We all know how important it is to know someone is reading what we write.

Tell him his mother sent you.

We've been home for almost a week, and we have made good progress on a couple of big jobs.  We have selected and ordered new vanities and cultured marble sink tops for both of the remaining bathrooms. Making decisions is hard work! We were a bit distressed when we found out that the company, from which we bought the sink top for the first bathroom that we remodeled last spring, had gone out of business.  Craig wanted all of the vanity-tops to match.  Fortunately with a bit of research and phone calls, he was able to track down the original manufacturer.

The vanity in the first bath came from Lowe's stock, and the new two are being ordered from Home Depot.  We couldn't order what we wanted from Lowe's. The ones from Home Depot are similar in design, but a slightly different shade of wood.  

A funny thing happened when we were ordering them.  It seems that if your purchase is more than $1000 and you open a Home Depot card, you can get 10% off.  Since we intended to pay for them in full on delivery, this was an option that appealed to me.  I will just pay the bill when it comes instead of writing a check when we get them. We saved $200 by opening an account. 

So what was funny?

To process my credit card application the sales representative swiped my American Express card to transfer the information on it. When she had me check the information, the phone number was wrong. It listed our old second line which was also our fax number. I told her the correct number. When I was reviewing the print out of the order, it listed me as Merikay Fax MacKenna. I now have a new middle name. She claims she didn't do anything to my name, so perhaps American Express also lists Fax as my middle name. 

When I wrote about our days at theValley of Fire, I didn't include a most interesting (to me) wildlife sighting.  

On our first evening we took a walk shortly after sundown when it was cooler. I noticed there were some rather delicate looking white flowers along the path that we had not noticed during the day. Years ago my sister had grown some Moon Flowers that opened in the evening and I thought these were the same type. As I started to photograph them I heard a loud buzz. 

If you look closely you can see a pink and brown blur just above the lower blossom.  

It is a White-lined Sphinx Moth. 








I kept snapping and got one better image.

Its body was substantial, and its wings were moving so fast you couldn't really see them. I learned about these moths during my butterfly collecting days as a child, but I had never seen one before. It was unexpected and exciting.

This is what his wings look like.

 

image from the Web

Don't you just love seeing new things?

Note: I've put a link to my son's blog Leaving Amerika on my side bar under "Other MacKenna Blogs."  Perhaps one of these days we can convince Craig he needs to write one too!

We're Home again

When we drove to the Valley of Fire we came through Las Vegas and entered the park through the West entrance.  We decided to leave by way of the East Entrance and drive through part of the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. We didn't see much of the lake, but the surrounding mountains were quite interesting if you like a muted earth-tone pallet of color. We liked their names: to the East were the Black Mountains and to the West were the Muddy Mountains.

We didn't stop to take pictures. We had many miles to cover to get home.

We drove south on I-15 and west on CA-68, and stopped for the night at a quirky little place called Bakersfield RV Travel Park.

Being somewhat new to the RV world, we were surprised and delighted taking an after-dinner walk down the shaded lanes of this small, vintage RV community. Almost every space was occupied. At least 90% of the rigs were occupied by long time, permanent residents. 

Craig regretted that we didn't have the camera on our walk, but by the time we thought of it, it was already getting dark. The above picture is a quick shot of our nearest neighbor taken in the morning before we pulled out.

By looking at the renewal stickers on a few of the license plates, we were able to guess how long some of them had been there.  They were probably old even then. The oldest sticker I saw was 1992. Twenty-one years since it was legally registered. Who knows how long it had been there before that! But the amazing thing was that most were very clean and looked "loved." Many had attached tent rooms like the one at the left in the picture above. Most had collections of chairs, grills, and plants in their yards, but not a lot of junk. As we passed by, one couple was removing a tarp from over a very nice, full size pool table for an evening game.

We were the strangers, but everyone we passed by nodded or greeted us. We stopped for a chat with one nice man who noticed Craig's Oakland A's hat. After the usual exchange of "where are you from?" he asked if we were planning on staying there permanently. It felt a bit unreal.  A bit like something from a Ray Bradbury book.

This trip sure was a potpourri of stops: Walmart parking lots, a gated golf resort, a national park, a state park, and finally a vintage park.  

Home is where you are parked.

Tonight the Alfa is once again parked in her place on our land, waiting for the next adventure.

Sunday - Tuesday, Small Repair and The Valley of Fire

When we were preparing to pull out of Grand Canyon National Park on Sunday morning, we had some trouble with getting the bedroom slide to come in. Craig tried pushing it in from outside, but that didn’t help much. We had the engine on fast idle to provide more voltage to the slide motors, but then turned it off. Craig kept trying the “in” switch lots of times, and was about to give up when one activation made the slide twitch a bit inward, the next made it come in a little more, and the next depression of the switch brought the slide all the way in. We were thankful that we didn’t have to get a mobile fix-it man into the Park to fix a balky slide.

But this was the second time this slide had problems coming in, and it was definitely time to do something about it. We were headed toward Nevada, so we looked up “Las Vegas” on the Alfa repair forums. This yielded only references to “Johnnie Walker”. No, they weren’t about drowning your repair worries in Scotch, there is a company called “Johnnie Walker RV” in Las Vegas.

We drove to Las Vegas and boondocked at a nearby Walmart.  It seemed a reasonable idea after cuddling through a bunch of cold GC mornings, but the Vegas heat quickly got to us.  It was about 95° Sunday afternoon, and Walmart hasn’t gotten around to providing hookups so we could run our AC. Going to an RV park was mentioned, but lethargy had set in. We opened all the windows and enjoyed a few breezes along with the sound of the many 50 MPH vehicles on the road that was 20 feet away.

But we like to think of ourselves as tough, like when Merikay said at about 4 AM “I don’t know when I’ve slept so well!”.  We were up bright and early and pulled into JWRV at 7:30, which put us second in line for service.

They got right to work and had our problem solved by 9:30. The switch was bad.  If you ever have an RV problem in or near Las Vegas, look up Johnnie Walker’s RV. Their price was reasonable and the fact that they fit us in so quickly was very nice.

While we were on our last trip to Death Valley in January, Cyndi sent us an email suggesting we make our way up to Valley of Fire State Park, north of Las Vegas. Unfortunately, our reservations conflicted with getting there at the same time she and her husband were there, but we put it on our “someday” list as a place we wanted to go.

Thank you Cyndi. We spent two days there, and were delighted by the unusual rock formations.  You would think that after almost a week at the Grand Canyon we might be tired of looking at rocks, but each park has its own specialness.

Here is a sample of the sights in the Valley of Fire Nevada State park.  

  

Our RV spot was $30 per night with water and power hookups. A dump station is available. Sites were first come first serve, no reservations, cash or check only. There were only a few sites with hook ups, so early arrival is recommended.

Last Day At Grand Canyon

Our Saturday plan was to get up very early and take the shuttle bus to Yaki Point in time to watch the sun rise over the canyon.

Didn't happen. Craig woke me up and told me that if I wanted to do that, it was time, but that he didn't want to go. My body was not ready to leave the warm bed either, and so I cuddled up next to him and went back to sleep.  We are just not morning people. After the exhausting hike the day before, and the half bottle of celebratory wine, I needed sleep more than I needed to see a sunrise. In fact, for once I lingered in bed long after our usual wakeup time reading blogs and looking thru the pictures we had taken the day before. So nice to be retired!

Although we did not do sunrise, we did follow our plan for the rest of the day, which was to explore some of the east part of the park that is accessible by car. As we drove along Desert View Drive we lost sight of the Canyon. The land is flat and covered with scrubby pine forest. I imagined what it must have been for the explorers who first discovered the canyon, or the early Indians who came upon it without knowledge of its existence.  They may have heard stories, but to see the canyon for the first time without pictorial preparation must have been amazing.

Our primary destination was the Watchtower at Desert View. Although it looks old, it was actually built in the 30's for the park service as an observation tower. The stone is all local.

It has four levels, each open at the center.

The walls are decorated with Indian motifs worked so they appear to be ancient and weathered. Fascinating.

There is a large patio observation deck off the second level. As you can tell from the picture we were there before the Saturday crowds started to come. 

In the distance to the East we could see the flatlands and Cedar Mesa. It is beyond the park borders; the locals call it "Flat Top."

This part of the canyon is quite different from the areas we viewed over the past few days. The primary cut seems narrower, and the side canyons not as deep.

On the way back to the campground we stopped at all the remaining points and vistas we could find. We were able to see more of the river at this part of the canyon.

We relaxed and rested during our last afternoon at the Grand Canyon. Craig went out to buy the T-shirt he had seen on our second day and I stayed at the Alfa to work on my blog post. However, since he took his phone, I had no hot spot.

One of our small traditons is to enjoy a dinner at the grand lodge of each National Park we visit if possible. I made reservations at the El Tovar Hotel months ago.

We had a window table and a sunset time, but we really couldn't see much of the canyon, and the sunset was unremarkable.

It didn't mater, because our whole experience had been marvelous. One thing I enjoy about our special dinners is the sense of history and past luxury. There was a time that only the rich would have been able to eat at these grand hotels.

I am so glad our country has preserved our National Parks, and that now ordinary people can enjoy them. 

Our country is rich in so many ways. 

We should all remember that, and support public works.

We were Robbed!

We were robbed. But before I tell you about it, I want to write about our challenging hike on Friday.

By walking the Rim Trail we were able to get a feel for the vast size of the Canyon. The length of the park is over two hundred miles. Our thirteen mile walk was just a taste. On Friday we ventured down into the Canyon to sample its depth. Forgive the clichè, but this was like strolling into the vestibule of a fabulous cathedral. Just a taste, just a peek, but amazing.

The most popular trail to the bottom of the canyon is the Bright Angle Trail. It is the one the mule riders take. Hiking to the bottom and back in one day is not recommended. For those that choose to go to the river, there is a hotel at the bottom to overnight in. We did not want to, nor thought we were capable of going all the way down. The top part of the trail has three rest stops. One at a mile and a half, one at three miles, and one at four and a half miles down. We aimed for the three mile stop, which turned out about right.

Although it was only three miles one way, it was 2100 feet down. That means a lot of switch-backs. 

Craig stayed ahead of me most of the way down. I purposely went slow in order to save my knees. The trail had a lot of rough sized steps made with logs imbedded in the dirt, and each was a small jolt to my knee joints.

When we walked along the rim we looked down or across the canyon and marveled at the many rock towers. As we hiked down the Bright Angle trail, we got a different perspective and viewed some of the huge rock formations and canyon walls from below.  

It's hard to know the actual size of the feature in the next image. It's a large, natural amphitheater created long ago.

As we hiked on the trail to the left of this feature, we heard delicate music on the wind.  If you look at the blow-up of the image you will see someone far to the right who was at the bottom making the music we heard.

The hike was hard, but satisfying.  We did it!  Three miles down, ten miles back up.  Well, not really, but it felt like it.

Oh, the robbery.  When we reached the three mile rest house we stopped for a picnic lunch. We found a nice place along a stone wall and had our sandwiches and fruit. There are many signs around that advise people not to feed the wildlife, so when a fat squirrel came begging, we ignored him.  Our backpack was open on the wall behind us. We heard a rustling sound, and as we looked back this guy was dashing away with a snack bag containing some  sweet onion and cheddar tortilla chips. 

We were robbed!

The culprit!