Are We There Yet?



Are we there yet?

I asked Rollo that when we got to about…Fairbault Mn. I will probably ask dozens of times over the next month on the road. Sometimes just to be funny. Sometimes because it seems like we are “nowhere” – in between the “destinations” on our list.

Being a major daydreamer, I am very often guilty of thinking about how great next Saturday will be…you know…the one when I will be looking back on what a good time THIS Saturday was. Oh yeah, man, Springsteen’s glory days. Down at the well tonight…gonna drink my fill. Those were the glory days. We never remember that we puked for the entire next day.

ANYway… I have been planning this trip for months. First it was Taos, down south in New Mexico and then Southern Arizona. Then, Rollo said the magic word to me. CALFORNIA. So I rerouted my itinerary. Let’s get the very best place because then it will be sunny all the time and beer and donuts are free.

I wasn’t expecting to camp in Omaha, Nebraska. Made it to Taos and we WERE finally somewhere and it WAS great. But the weather looked bad for our travels south, so we left a day early. In Albuquerque this morning, the weather channel seemed to say temps will be below 20 degrees for the next week – not ideal for the water tanks on the RV.  And this forecast is for most of the route we planned. So we rerouted again. Head straight west we thought- Sedona, Phoenix, onward to Cali.

Finally, I gave myself a good hard slap. I AM THERE right now. Right where I want to be. Wherever that is.
I want to keep my eyes and ears and mind wide open and maybe my mouth shut. I want to suck up every drop of Omaha Nebraska or, say, being stuck in the snow..(stuck in the NOW) in Edgewood, New Mexico.

Because. Well. Things happen. 200 old cars happened. Can’t pass that up. We are, indeed, camped at some very kind new friends home after viewing the cars. Wouldn’t trade it for Carlsbad or Sedona or anywhere else. The look on my car-boy husband’s face seeing 200 cool old cars? Priceless.

Are we there yet? Yup. These are the glory days.

Blue Doors…



…In Taos are beautiful, but not only beautiful. They keep evil spirits out.
Our door at the historic Taos Inn was not strong enough to keep the demon out of the heater though. Full speed ON or completely off. Most full on. Combine that with near blizzard conditions predicted and we are fleeing south.
We enjoyed Taos…maybe not in the normal tourist way. We did have chilis for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and I did have the famous cowboy buddha margarita at the Adobe Bar. That is almost a reason to stay. We didn’t go to museums and, although we shopped more than I liked, we didn’t buy anything in town.
What did we do? Traveling with Rollo, you KNOW we met people. First, some locals at breakfast. They live just over the mountain and one them is a rancher with a small cow/calf ranch. Just 100000 acres. The other runs a 50s diner and Ice Cream Parlor.
After that, on walkabout in town, three guys we hauling construction stuff into a tarped off building. They asked us in to see what they were doing. Remodeling is not the word for it. They called it art. We agreed.
Beams carved by the grandfather in 1800s are restored and in some cases replicated. They have been at it four months and hope an art gallery will be in the space by spring. They called the work an amazing journey.
After more chilis with our tamale and rellano lunch platter -Christmas style (both red and green chilis)-and a little rest, we went to visit Taos Pueblo.
The Red Willow people have lived in this adobe community for at least a thousand years – making it the oldest continually inhabited community in North America. A visit to this special place was one of the reasons I wanted to come to Taos. In the last weeks of planning, though, I read some reviews on Trip Advisor that almost changed my mind.
I take Trip Advisor reviews with a grain of salt – or a whole shaker – particularly the ones where the poor traveler is complaining about the lack of English-speaking wait-staff in say…Mexico. In this case there were enough negative reviews concerning the rudeness (bordering on hostility)of the residents of the Pueblo that I did take notice.
I am so so glad we decided to go anyway. The people could not have been more gracious in welcoming strangers into their home on a holiday. And, IMO, they had plenty of reason not to be. There had to be close to 5000 of us visitors and I saw and heard some behaviors that would get you thrown out of my house in a heartbeat.
We had good hot coffee, frybread, lots of big smiles and Merry Christmas greetings. The residents build huge, I mean HUGE, bonfires in the plaza. After services at San Geromino (St. Jerome) chapel, we were lucky enough to witness the procession of the Virgin Mary. With snowflakes falling on the bonfires at the base of the moutains, Mary is carried from the church and paraded (with gunfire!) around the plaza. Quite a sight…Thank you Red Willow People and I’m sorry about those rude (bordering on hostile visitors).

ps.  If you are in Taos and are looking for jewelry or pottery, go to the Pueblo.  Buy direct from the artists.  Not only will you get a good deal, but you will support the artists and learn the tradition behind what you are bringing home.  Thanks, Sonny Spruce for making my beautiful Christmas present.

Listening To The Three Wise Men

The first day we were on the road I quoted Willie Nelson’s song, “On the Road Again”. My friend Eduardo was kind enough to post the rest of the lyrics to Facebook.

“Like a pair of gypsies, we go down the road again.  We’re the best of friends”…I quoted.

The next line is “Insisting that the world keep turning our way..,”

Wow. How nice would that be?

Can you IMAGINE insisting that the whole world go our way? Of course, I would consult you all -this is a democracy after all, right?  Hmm wait.  Never mind.  Not sure that is working.

So just trust me. It will be  nice with me as king.  If I were the king of the world…I’ll tell you what I’d do.  I’d throw away the bars and the cars and the wars.

IT would be FAR OUT… remember I LOVE John Denver.  I loved him when I was 10 years old and I love him still.

Can you tell we have been listening to a little of my favorite road music?

So, ok if I were the king of the world, I wouldn’t do it all myself.  I would put three wise men in charge of some stuff.  To help me.

John Denver for sure in charge of environment assisted by Jerimiah (the bullfrog).  John Lennon on gun control.   Willie can make sure everyone gets fed…good farm veggies.  Both Johns (Denver and Lennon) and Willie on the drug regulations.  Jerimiah Bullfrog on joy distribution.  I know.  We don’t have a joy distribution comittee right now.  But we should.  And when I am king of the world we will.

Joy to the World.  The WHOLE world.  Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea.  JOY JOY JOY to you and me!!

**no I am not indulging in Colorado’s state crop.  Just sipping some damn good coffee.  Red Dog Coffee Shop.  Manitou Springs, Co.




Moose, Cabela’s, and Boondocking




12/21/15 Camped Cabela’s parking lot, Omaha NE

Why, you ask? Well because we can.

We took an epic 4000+ mile roadie in 2012 in the Roadmaster Buick woodie wagon.  We did some tent camping and stayed in some hotels-from the grand and historic in Seattle to the funky in Circle Montana.  We hiked alot of miles and saw elk, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, grizzlies and MOOSE.

I love the freedom of going wherever whenever and camping or not.  I never wanted to be tied down to an old person RV parked in an asphalt lot with alot of other old-timers in their metal tents.  But.  It does have some appeal.  Shower? Fridge?  yes.   So we shopped RVs this summer.  Camper vans really. Because some national parks – namely the one named Heaven, um, I mean Glacier – don’t allow vehicles longer than 21 feet.

We test drove some big over priced rigs. It was hot and I was cranky. I told the salesperson my complaints and wished outloud to be able to just go camp alone in the woods without reservations.   He asked why we didn’t.  Boondock, he said.

Huh?  So of course I googled it.  There IS such a thing. In fact there are a whole tribe of these boondockers.   Boondocking at it’s best, IMO, is a pristine campsite with no other campers in sight.  Free.

Alternatively, you might be in a walmart or casino parking lot, at  truck stop etc.   Free (or cheap) and self contained.  There are even groups that allow other member RV’ers to park on their property and Harvest Hosts – winerys, farm stores, alpaca and goat ranches, brewerys or museums that will host travelers.

OK Mr. RV salesman, I’m in.   We still didn’t buy one from him.    My beloved husband/ traveling companion/deal finder got us a 21 foot rig from Ebay or Craigslist or wherever he gets these things.

So we are off on another epic roadie. Mostly going to try boondocking in the RV.  But, being we aren’t driving a jillion dollar rig, we aren’t guilted into sleeping in it no matter WHAT.  We will mix it up with some hotels.

We are spending Christmas in Taos, New Mexico.  I hear that it is an enchanted winter holiday wonderland.  Most of the festivities are in the main plaza of town.   And it’s sometimes 2 degrees in the morning.  Time to mix it up.  We are staying at an inn.

We left Sunday morning with no specific ideas for the en route to Taos part.  I thought there was mention of motel 6 and a shower.  I wasn’t expecting much in the way of sights until we got to Taos.  No hiking, no wildlife nothing like the 2015 trip right?  Not until we get there.  So just driving.

Then we saw him.  Coming into Omaha.  There was a bull moose on the side of the highway.  He was on his side of the fence but it was not moose fence.  He looked a little confused and a lot angry.  Another vehicle was pulled over on the side of the road.  Maybe to take his picture. Luckily, for him and us and the other vehicle, Mr. Moose ran away.

Cousin Barb asked if  he was hiding behind a cornstalk.  No he was not.  Cornstalks are cut down now.  Maybe that’s why he was angry.

So I guess there are things to see in Omaha.  The only boondocking site we could find, though, was at Cabela’s parking lot.  We had food and cards and a warm bed all in the RV so all we really needed was a somewhat level safe place to park.  Holiday enchantment a bonus.

I don’t hunt so I’m not sure I have ever been in a Cabela’s.  But now I know why the moose was angry.  The place is full of dead animals. I will have nightmares for months.

Safe? I  guess I should feel safe what with all those guns.  Aren’t we all supposed to be afraid of each other these days? Muslims, married gays, young black men and police.  To start.  Nothing says safe like cartloads of ammo going home to be stacked under the tree.

Somehow I was not comforted.  I was tramautized by all the dead animal heads watching.  Did they know something I didn’t.  I couldn’t tell the nice safe gun people from the bad dangerous gun people.    I guess I got my naughty and nice lists mixed up.

Now that I’v offended, let’s get back to festive holiday enchantment? Well sure.  Nothing says festive like pink camo, rows of meat grinders, and all those glass eyeballs watching you.

I will try to keep this blog updated as we travel, but the 2 or 3 of you that subscribe know I am not all that good at that.

Eventually, when i can sit still long enough to figure it out, I will try to condense the facebook page, facebook author page and blog.  Meanwhile,I apologize for the double, triple or no posts.  Also some of this is being written while the dinette hurtles along at 80 miles an hour, so expect even more typos and worse punctuation than usual.  If I bug you too much, you can always Unfriend or Unfollow.  It’s ok.  Just don’t get me pink camo for Christmas.



OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI LOVE MOSS!  I gathered up all I could and moved it to the new house last year. Fairies seem to like the moss beds.

“Life [exists] only because of a myriad of synchronicities that bring us to this particular place at this particular moment. In return for such a gift, the only sane response is to glitter in reply.”

Robin Wall Kimmerer, from Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses .

I think I will be getting this book.  Today.

Isn’t there an old proverb – No moss grows on a rolling stone?  Maybe we all need to slow. down.  stop rolling quite so fast.  Take time to notice that oh-so-green-and-soft delicious moss.  And start to glitter a little.

My Psychiatrist

I haven’t been myself lately.  I’ve been a bit down, my head feels foggy.  I haven’t written anything in I-don’t-know how long.  Even my very favorite things are starting to seem like work. Busy busy busy.  No fun.

It got worse early this week.  I was confused and…well…a titch crabby.

I must have been confused – I actually read this article on astrology and I don’t believe in astrology.


clink on angry face to read the article

It says Mercury is stalled out (or something like that).  This can cause confusion, frustration, irritation, strange dreams, meltdowns…”and an unrelenting feeling of psychological and physiological heaviness.”

Well. Yes.  That might also explain the two-headed llama wearing bunny ears galloping through my sleep on Tuesday night, but I still don’t believe in astrology.

How could a planet way up there have any effect on me way down here?  It’s ridiculous.  Couldn’t make me angry or frustrated.  Not a F*$#*^% chance that rat b@$^*!& mercury can get to me.  Right?

Upon further reflection, I decided I needed to see my psychiatrist.  I haven’t visited in a long time (apparently way too long).  I didn’t have an appointment and I didn’t think I really had the time for a visit.

I had to try really hard to “put on blinders” and go straight to the office.  I didn’t make the bed, do the dishes, walk the dog, play with the cat, or feed the chickens.


I got an earful about the late breakfast

Or the chicks.


dirty look?

or the other chicks.


I did visit the ducks.   I tried not to notice the plants that needed planting or the weeds needing weeded. I didn’t even get dressed.

I went directly to Dr. Peltier’s in my pajamas.


The office was crowded.  There was a teenage bald eagle with a self esteem problem, geese with a panic disorder, a heartbroken swan, anxious wood ducks, a swallow with an aggression issue, and a bunch of herons who -judging by the screaming – were in need of group therapy.

I don’t even wanna know what this guy’s problem was.


Despite the crowd and the noise, the place was soothing.  There was a light breeze and pretty flowers. I figured out those I thought were patients were really therapists!

I feel better.

I want to go back soon. But, I still hate mercury.  And the llama.



Every St Pat’s Day, I felt like I was missing something.I can’t say for sure why.   This was grade school, so it wasn’t the green beer, but there must have been something special about the day. Something that drew me in.  Four leaf clovers and luck of the Irish, maybe?

Back then, I didn’t know how good the whiskey was or how green the hillsides are said to be. I’d never heard the pipes cry “Danny Boy”.

But I knew there had to be magic in being Irish.

Deep down in my gypsy soul, I felt there was something special about it…maybe in another life I knew about the storytelling tradition; the folklore and fairytales.

What I wanted to be more than anything, what I  yearned to be…was Irish.

I don’t know when I found out.  I don’t know why no one told me.  They probably didn’t think they had to.  I don’t know why the Malone and Maley names in the family tree didn’t ring a bell for me.
I AM Irish.

Patrick and Delia

50% anyway.  My great grandparents were named Delia (called Bridget) and Patrick.  How did I miss that?

Their son, Frank, was born in the United States, but traveled back to the Emerald Isle when he was young.  He went to school there for awhile.  His schoolmates called him The Yank.  Maybe he didn’t know he was Irish either.

I don’t know if there’s a moral to this story.  Maybe the moral is to celebrate what who we already are.

Maybe it’s only to drink more whiskey and tell more stories.

Or just maybe, the moral is that we can be whomever and whatever we decide to be.
Now that I know I’m Irish, what I really want to be – more than anything – is a writer.

Maybe I already am.




Full Moon at Walmart

.full moon

-and the post office.

1:24 on a random Tuesday and and there are 15 pissed off seniors in front of me at the post office – being scolded by the manager.  She is trying to explain that the postal workers are, indeed, human and must eat lunch.  The crowd does not agree and they tell her so.  Loudly.

I wasn’t that concerned.  Going postal at the post office?  Perhaps expected.

I started to wonder when I got halfway through Walmart.  There were 5 people in line to open the door at the dairy cooler.  A senior (aren’t we all seniors here in Florida?) in a motorized chair chair asked the woman in front of me (whose “turn” it was) to hand him some half and half from the bottom shelf.  She passed it to me.  I put it in his cart.  The angry mob protested that it was NOT his turn.

At the register, I am again finally second in line when the register quits.  All the registers in Walmart stopped working.  I repeat All. The. Registers. In. Walmart. Stopped.  I think the AC might have quit too.  Or it was just the angst of the crowd that heated things up.

The man ahead of me wanted to take his stuff home and come back later to pay.  He was serious.  He started loading it in his cart.  The woman two behind me announced it was probably a terrorist attack.  Word spread.  She her companions, the group behind them and an old guy in the next lane who spoke no English all fled Walmart.  I think the rest of us where nervous too.

I thought about leaving or starting to sample the candy in front of me, but I hung in.

Can you imagine the scene if it hadn’t come back on?  Rioting? Looting?  People wacking each other with their canes and making off with cartloads of Geritol?

On the way home it dawned on me to check the moon phase. I remember from working in (pet) ER that two days before and two days after the full moon are the the danger zone.

I goggled “full moon at Walmart” and got lots of images I would now like to unsee.   Then I found an astology site.

Sure nuff.  Full Moon on Thursday.  Also our wedding anniversary.  uh oh?


Parrotheads and Cabbage Heads


Parrotheads in the Florida Keys

Florida abuzz over plan to introduce “mutant mosquitos” to fight disease

Why do I feel like this headline belongs in The Onion instead of the Naples Daily Times?

This article gives me yet another reason to stop reading the paper.

There is a plan a-buzzing (sorry) to release millions of genetically modified mosquitoes in a residential neighborhood in the Florida Keys.

The point of this little experiment is to stop the spread of two “potentially deadly” skeeter-borne diseases – Dengue and Chikungunya.  Although Dengue can have a fatality rate of up to 10%, early recognition and action can reduce that to 1%. Chikungunya is considered non-fatal although some deaths have been “partly attributed” to the disease.  I’m sure neither one is a picnic.

Attempting to stop this spread is done by genetically modifying the mosquitoes so that their offspring don’t make it past the larval stage.  The project targets only male non-biting mosquitoes.  But the scientists cannot guarantee that a few of the girls might not sneak out and get wild as well.

These little beauties are being made with DNA fragments of cabbage and coral, as well as protein fragments from the herpes simplex virus and E. coli.

Hmm.  Good stuff. Why don’t we add some dirty syringes and oil residue then throw in a little mercury – frack it all up and see what we get then?

A-MAZ-ING-LY, 145000 guinea pigs people have already signed a petition protesting this plan.

What is wrong with these people?  Can’t they understand this is good for them?

The article was originally published in the Washington Post under the title:

“Why we should all hope to get bitten by a GMO mosquito”.

The author attempts to convince these resistant fools by explaining how the positives outweigh the negatives.  He lists them – I can’t tell the positives from the negatives myself – but I’m not that smart.

-This is not the first time genetically engineered mosquitoes have been released. That’s reassuring.

-I guess the mosquitoes are resistant to 4 out of 6 of the insecticides previously used to kill them.  ( I wonder how that happened?)

-Concerns about the ripple effect on the environment are “overblown.” After all, this particular mosquito is an invasive species anyway.

-These mosquitoes are, of course, headed for mainland Florida and will probably hitch rides up north with snowbirds.  Ok, I made that last part up. But, they are headed for mainland Florida and there is no vaccine for the diseases they carry.

– Florida will not be releasing a giant swarm of mutant mosquitoes.  Whew – just a few million – which is less than 1% of the mosquitoe population in the Keys.  Hence, the need for all that insecticide.

-Lastly, there exist DIY bio-hacking groups – folks, with or without formal training, who get together to hack genetic code. Nice little hobby.  This does scare me, but how is it a pro or con for releasing GMO mosquitoes?  Just because bad Jimmy-gene-hacker makes himself a unique little pet does that make it ok to release GMO mosquitoes?

I have no desire to debate any of you with strongly held opinions either for or against this plan.  (I do think it might be sort of fun to sit back and watch a few of you go at each other.)

I’m undereducated on the subject. My health knowledge is so minimal that I’ve never even had a flu shot.

It’s so minimal that I still don’t get why I would hope to be bitten by a GMO mosquito?

I’m just asking questions.

Why are there invasive mosquitoes here to start with?

Why are the mosquitoes resistant to insecticides?

Is it good or bad that there are no vaccines?

What will eating these skeeters due to the bats (some of whom are on the endangered or threatened list) and birds and frogs and…  ?

What is the fatality rate of second-hand smoke, influenza, and E. coli compared to the mosquito-borne diseases we are trying to stop?

I don’t have answers to any of this.

What would happen if a rouge female GMO mosquito bit someone?

I don’t know that.  Neither do the scientists.

Florida Keys residents are reported to be a bit odd anyway.  Key West is sometimes called Key weird and some are parrot heads so maybe it wouldn’t matter if someone had a cabbage head and coral for arms?

cabbageman copy

Oh.  And, how’s that herpes lesion working out for you?  What about the E. coli diarrhea?  Can your offspring live past the larval phase?

HEY, at least you might not get Dengue or Chickungunya!

Could some of the GMO bugs breed with non-GMO skeeters and their offspring live past the larval phase?

I dunno.

What would the offspring of those skeeters be like?

How about the children of the children of the bitten?


I’m going back to writing stories about something more realistic – like fairies.  Or maybe birds and bees and butterflies. While they still exist.