Suebob's Red Stapler

Marijuana is legal for recreational use in this state, and they have taken to it like an Oregon Duck to water.

When you cross the state line, there’s a sign that says “Welcome to Oregon.” About 150 yards behind that, there is a store with a sign with letters about 8 feet high that reads “WEED”.

The names of the dispensaries crack me up.

• La Mota
• Gräs
• Doctor’s Orders
• Green Gratitude
• Urban Farmacy
• Canabliss
• and my favorite, Pharm to Table.

Have I partaken? Nah. Not my cup of tea.*

*This is a little joke at all the drug education officers who came to my school and tried to convince us that people referred to marijuana as “tea,” which never ever happened anywhere but drug education seminars.

What do you get when you have a narrow driveway with a rock ledge on one side, an inexperienced driver who needs to back up to dump her tanks, and a man who doesn’t understand that the driver can’t tell left from right and doesn’t know what “cut the wheels” means?

You get an RV that is backed straight up into the space. After about 15 minutes.

My friend Kyle and I went to a taqueria for dinner and damn the food was good.

It was true Mexican food, too, because their veggie enchiladas were not like deflated burritos covered in sauce and cheese, but were authentic – little tortillas dipped in chile sauce and folded like hankies with the vegetables on top.

There was a hand-lettered sign in brown magic marker on orange paper “Tenemos Tejuino.” I figured this was something special, thus the sign. It was taped under the Dessert section of the menu.

As we paid, I asked “What is Tejuino?” and the man told me “It is a dough with lemon and sugar and salt.”

I figured it was some sort of salty bread or cookie, so I ordered it just because I like trying new things.

“You always try the weirdest thing on the menu,” my ex complained.See also: why he is my ex.

Imagine how puzzled I was when they handed me a drink: Tejuino. 

And then when I drank it, it was as salty as the sea, and somewhat sweet, with a distinct lemon tinge and, yes, the uncanny taste of tortillas.

Salt. Sweet. Lemon. Dough. All in a very odd, kind of terrible, drink.

“Oh my God,” I yelped after tasting it.

“What is it like?” Kyle said. “Give me a taste.”

“You don’t want to taste this,” I said. But of course he had to.

“That’s TERRIBLE,” Kyle said.

We tried to imagine the circumstances in which one would want this drink, and decided maybe when working out in the sun on a hot day to replace electrolytes or something.

“Mexican Gatorade,” Kyle pronounced.

It’s apparently a relative of atole, a drink made with cornmeal that dates back to Aztec times. It comes from a salt-producing region of the Mexican state of Colima.

Sorry, Colima people, to insult your drink. It must be an acquired taste.

Some days are just too sad and full of worry to do much than post a photo of a very large, very friendly dog who loves everyone she meets.

This one is about the bathroom. You can skip it if you’re faint of heart.

Among the top three things I love most about RVing is this simple fact: I have my own clean restroom with me at all times.

Ever since I was a kid, I have had TB. Not Tuberculosis but Tiny Bladder. My mom said that by the time I was 5, she knew every public restroom in three counties. That persists as an adult. The other day when I was home, I surprised my friend who was riding with me by stopping at a giant hardware store when I had no reason to do so.

“Clean bathrooms close to the front of the store,” I explained. Of course.

So having my own commode instead of having to warily peer into the dimly lit depths of a gas station bathroom that has a floor lined with damp paper towels and God-knows-what-else is a little slice of paradise. I can stop anywhere and do my thing. I know the towels are clean and the hand soap is unscented.

The flip side of that, of course, is that I also have to deal directly with the waste I create. This caused me much trepidation at first, but then I read Girl Meets Road’s post about septic systems and she assuaged my fears.

I had envisioned needing a Hazmat suit and getting more or less splattered from head to toe in sewage muck, when in actuality, you never even see or smell sewage, if you do the process right.

And you DO want to do it right, because you don’t want to know what happens should you do it wrong. I will just leave you with this RVer term I learned, and for the brave, you can read what it means, exactly: “The Dreaded Poop Pyramid.” NOBODY wants that.

So far I have dumped my tanks 4 times and haven’t had any issues. A big box of vinyl gloves, a little care, and the Geo Method keep me good to go and out of gas station bathrooms.

It’s worth it. It’s awesome.

In my search for non-RV park places to stay, I found Harvest Hosts. This is a program where you pay them $49 for a year’s membership, and then you can stay for free at more than 600 wineries and farms across the USA.

They ask you to buy something from the winery or farm where you stay. So instead of spending $50 to $100 on a spot to park your RV for the night, you stay for free (usually without any hookups) and spend some money on foodstuffs or wine. Most places are limited to one night.

I have stayed twice so far. I was very excited about the first one, Tobin James Winery, because I had worked where we printed their labels. They were always a lot of fun to work with. I called the winery to make arrangements and the lady who answered the phone was informative and welcoming, but made sure to mention the part about making a purchase. I get it – they’re running a business.

The way the stay was in my head was a little different than it worked out. I imagined us chatting and catching up about the wine business. I imagined parking next to the autumn-colored vines.

But when I showed up, it was 5 pm on a Friday – prime time for pre-weekend wine tasting. The place was jammed, just wall-to-wall people talking at the top of their voices, and I had no chance to chat with anyone because I freaked out about the crowd. I just quickly picked up 2 bottles of wine, paid for them, and went out to my spot…a large, desolate parking lot about 200 yards from the tasting room with one other RV. Nothing scenic about it.

It did have the benefit of being very quiet and dark since it was so far out in the countryside and well off the road. I got up early, just after sunrise, and hit the road for points north. A gorgeous drive up Interstate 5, the hills glowing gold and the miles of fruit and nut trees left me feeling blessed and thankful.

The next night was much more charming. La Bella Vito farm is run by Holly DeVito and her family. They have 2 great dogs, fainting goats, pigs, dozens of chickens, bees, and a curious emu. (See previous post for some of their animals).

I had brought my nephew and his daughter by – they live nearby –  so they could see the fainting goats, too.

Holly stood outside and talked for as long as she could before she had to go to an event. I learned about her animals and kids. I bought some eggs, elderberry syrup and homemade vanilla from her. I parked by her house and slept well, until the roosters started crowing about 3 am, when I put in earplugs and went back to sleep.

Harvest Hosts is great, but I would Google Street View the place and see if you’ll be parking in a desolate parking lot or next to a pen full of cute goats. In any case, I got some great wine, met some nice people, and stayed two nights basically for free. All good.

San Luis Obispo Elks Lodge #322 at sunset

One of the first pieces of advice I got when I decided to hit the road in Gladis was from my friend Dave Congalton: Join the Elks.

The Elks? Why would anyone ever join a lodge? Isn’t that something from the 1940s? Do they still EXIST?

Dave told me that not only do the Elks still exist, many lodges have RV facilities open only to Elks, usually available for about $15-$30 per night. They also arrange outings and meetups. Elks and RVs go together like peanut butter and jelly.

So one application, one interview, one induction and about $90 later, I am an Elk, and I could not be more delighted. In addition to the RV fun, they also have lodges to hang out in, do philanthropic work like helping disabled kids and veterans, host events all week long…It’s a great deal.

The lodge pictured above is in San Luis Obispo, where I spent 4 nights in the RV area. They have about a dozen RV spots in the back of the parking lot, where it isn’t especially scenic, and it’s right next to the freeway – but that describes most RV parks anyway.

I hung out in the lodge, used their free wifi, talked to people, drank tonic water, and took showers in the locker room. I missed the meals because I was out with friends, but next time I stay at an Elks, I will give it a try.

I’m looking forward to seeing Elks lodges all across this great land. Maybe I’ll even play bingo.

I drove 600 miles this weekend. I saw my nephew, his daughter and some friends. For now, these are some of the cute animals I met along the way.

Fainting goats and a little pig

Eddie the Great Pyrenees and Dodger

Piggies

Cody the German Shepherd and Yalla, the Anatolian Shepherd

When I was a little child, we lived in a two bedroom house with five children and two adults. Whaat? My family made it work by converting the garage to a bedroom for two, using a tiny travel trailer in the yard for one, and having two children share the bedroom my parents didn’t occupy.

A born introvert, I always wanted solitude. We were a quiet family, but seven people in about 800 square feet is going to get crowded in any case. My refuge was the hall closet. I would hide out there, drawing on the walls with crayons and denying it was me when I was caught. Not the sharpest tool in the…closet, that was me.

Ever since, I have loved tiny spaces. I feel nervous in big rooms and relaxed in small ones. I thought having a 4-bedroom suburban home was ridiculous when it was just me and Mr. Stapler.

So I feel snug and happy in Gladis the RV. I can reach everything in 3 steps. There needs to be a place for everything and everything in its place. I just haven’t figured all of that out quite yet.

Dirty laundry is a thorn in my side.  Also, I brought my stuff from the house with me in my suitcase, then forgot to take the suitcase back in the house. Now I’m constantly shifting the suitcase from my bed to the dinette to my bed. But on the other hand, I don’t have to clean 4 bedrooms, and vacuuming takes 5 minutes with a hand vac.

In Gladis small actions have outsized effects. Yesterday I spilled about a cup of olive oil. I had to move things out of the way to clean, then find a spot for the dirty things, then move things back.

It reminded me of how small acts in our lives can blossom or blow up. A kind phone call in a time of despair. A word of encouragement to launch a career. Or a sentence said in anger that can rip apart years of love.

Living in this small cozy space, I need to be mindful of everything I do, the waste I produce, the messes I make. Maybe I can start to think of my planet like I do Gladis. As it says in A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, “No matter where you go, there you are.”

I’m making every single mistake possible with my RV, one at a time.

First bonk into a tree branch.

First time not locking the side door and having it fly open in traffic. THAT was a nasty little surprise.

The other night I realized that if I were hooked up to “city water” and not using my water tank, I didn’t have to turn on the water pump. IT’S COMPLICATED, OK?

My favorite mistake so far though, has been one with impacts that reach into today.

I bought a somewhat large container of cherry tomatoes. It didn’t seem that large at the time, but then I forgot to put them away securely before I started to drive, and the cherry tomatoes got loose.

Do you know how many cherry tomatoes are in a container? Hundreds. Thousands. Millions.

I wasn’t at a place where I could stop, so they rolled around, back and forth with curves and stops and starts.

That was almost three weeks ago and I’m STILL finding cherry tomatoes. Stacy helpfully pointed out that soon they will dry and become tomato raisins, so I won’t have to worry about them anymore.