live. work. dream.

Huh? Bear with me.

We feel right at home back in our same spot here on the Slabs after our windy Borrego holiday. The sun… the Range… the bombs.

Bright blasts on the horizon were big last night, and close enough to thump the ground. But the blast took about nine and a half seconds to be heard. Quick, do the math.

Sound travels at the approximate speed of 1,100 feet per second. With blasts seen about 9.5 seconds before being heard that puts bombs just 10,450 feet away. Divide that by by 5,280 feet in a mile and you have very big bombs exploding 1.9791667 miles away. And what on earth does this have to do with Google, you ask?

In doing a simple search for the speed of sound and how many feet in a mile, I discovered that Google is indeed going to take over the world!

Before long, every web page visited will be tracked, logged, analyzed, stored, and marketed to accordingly in Googledom. With the search engine’s recent makeover, users have new powerful search and sorting options. They also have a responsibility to their own users for not passing encoded googlinks capable of tracking who knows what viewer history information. Which is exactly what you will do when simply right-clicking to copy an URL now from Google search result links. Check it out for yourself.

What do you think all this means?

http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&oi=sw_smartlist_search_result_link&ct=result&cd=1&ved=0CBoQswYwAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Ftripawds.com%2F&ei=M26dS7T8FMH98Aa_842UDg&usg=AFQjCNHgne-o4U_dm4KmN-ADLp7kIoPMuA

So, that big bomb Google has dropped? No more absolute url copying for direct links to search results. Right click to copy a link and you now get a Googlurl encoded with plenty of tracking voodoo. What’s more disturbing yet? It was dropped by a stealth bomber…

It means this:

http://www.tripawds.com

Roll over any Google search result link and the browser status bar shows the actual url. At least Firefox does, on my Mac. And that’s pretty sneaky if you ask me. Not until a link is copied will the truth be told.

If you prefer to defy assimilation, here’s what to do: beneath Google search links a partial URL for the result is included in small green type, with no hyper link. Select that and copy if you don’t care to be part of the machine.

Apparently this has something to do with outbound SERPs. More like outright usurpers if you ask me. Check this Razzed blog for further Google outbound link tracking analysis. And try to pay attention where you’re sending people with your copied links. I sure will now.

It’s time for the annual NuRVers Gathering of Friends!

NuRVers is a group of young, non-retired RVers living the dream life now, instead of waiting for a someday that may never happen. We come from a variety of backgrounds but all share one thing in common; the desire to live an adventurous life on the open road.

Come join us in Gonzales, Texas in April for good times and great people! Last year’s inaugural  gathering was a blast, we know this year’s will be even better.

Space is limited. Sign up today!

The cold desert winds here at Anza Borrego Park in Southern California are making us stir crazy and insane, but we’re sticking around until our mail arrives by general delivery at the post office.

We also want to visit the Borrego Springs Friday Farmer’s Market one more time.

The local farmers have the most luscious selection of produce, including this weird, local Cherimoya fruit that I’ve never seen before (which is odd because I’m a SoCal native!). I think I’ll crack open my wallet and try it. It must be good if it’s that spendy, right? 

I also want to stock up on the local Fuerte avocados. They only appear in wintertime, and you can’t get them anywhere else because they don’t ship well. You’ve never had a great avocado until you’ve had a Fuerte.

If there’s one thing I miss about SoCal besides my family, it’s the buttery, yummy flavor of the Fuerte. My parents have a tree in their L.A. yard that blossoms during wintertime. Growing up, I had enough guacamole to bathe in.

Jim, meanwhile, is having fantasies about the locally grown tri-tip he saw last week. Maybe he can share it with Wyatt. Anyone else care to indulge in carnivore ecstasy, feel free to stop by.

We’ve been in Southern California longer than we anticipated, but even I, a recovering Angeleno, will admit that the  south end of the state has great winter weather and the best produce in America.

Borrego Springs is a funky, neat little town. I told Jim that maybe we should consider buying a cheap piece of land here to winter in. But then he reminded me; this is California. Nothing’s cheap. And with Moonbeam running for governor, the State’s really in trouble now! We’d better get out soon before we get taxed for breathing.

Whenever I go MIA around here, it usually means I’ve been wrapped up is some major project – one that probably has something to do with three legged dogs. This time is no different.

I haven’t written since that silly Valentine’s Day post because I have been busy launching the all new and much improved Tripawds Gift Shop. This required dusting off the old right brain bits and lubricating my creative gears to come up with loads of new graphic designs for inspawrational three legged dog t-shirts, cards, stickers, mugs and other gift items.

It was fun designing all these new graphics, and it felt good doing it for something I am passionate about, without some client breathing down my neck telling me to make the text bold and red.

Oh, wait … the type on our new Tripawd Power design is bold and red! Well, not really… it’s Cooper Black actually, and more of a crimson. But there I go digressing, here’s the link if you want to talk about typefaces.

I would like to think this represents some of my best work. But that’s not saying much considering I haven’t done any real graphic design work since we sold our business nearly three years ago. But it is a nice feeling knowing that I still got it – if I ever really had it, that is. And it goes to prove that graphic design is like riding a bike, in more ways than one.

If you think you may have lost the touch, just jump back into your favorite Adobe product and start pedaling. And if your chain falls off and you just can’t get it to work right, call a professional. Anyone need a logo?

Wanted: Chief librarian for Slab City Lizard Tree Library. Must be literate, love books, the desert climate, live in own RV and enjoy colorful characters of all types. Pay is non-existent but the fulfillment of running this institution is something money can’t buy. Job starts today.

What began as a final trip to the Slab City Library yesterday has turned into a devastating discovery. This one-of-a-kind institution is on the verge of collapse.

Sunday afternoon I arrived with some DVDs to donate, only to find piles of books thrown around, and an angry look on the face of Ron, the chief librarian. All of the doors to the place had also been removed, the sign had disappeared from the parking lot, and the book donation shelves were gone. He even took our Internut access away.

I was stunned, and asked Ron, “Uh, what happened to the shelves?”

His eyes were filled with rage as he said “I’m sick of picking up after people and their dog shit! I’ve had it! If they want to trash this place they can have it!”

I asked “But….what’s going to happen here?”

Ron said, “It’s a self-serve library from now on. People can take care of it themselves. I’m done!” and he stormed out.

Three years ago, Ron arrived just after the founder of the library died. He was enthusiastic about keeping it going, and moved in next door. He took the wheels off his motorhome, set up an encampment, and went about the business of becoming chief librarian. He’s done an incredible job. Every time I went there, new books had been shelved, more fun knicknacks appeared and the floor was always clean.

But apparently the slobs around here made him snap. Or maybe it the 120 degree summertime temperatures. But last week he threw up his hands and surrendered. Now, this treasure is at risk of becoming just another trash heap in the last free place in America.

I’m so devastated, it kept me awake last night. I love libraries, and this is a rare find in America. It’s killing me that we’re supposed to leave for Anza Borrego tomorrow.

Today I made the “Save the Libaray!” sign and posted it inside, hoping that more people might care enough to stop taking the library for granted. Maybe we can change Ron’s mind about quitting.

I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to find out what happens next.

And if nobody wants the job, I just might apply when we return.

Our San Francisco days have been on our minds. Yesterday would have been our friend Spoonie’s 49th birthday.

Back in the day, his birthday celebration might have consisted of us sitting on the floor in his room eating a calzone. Then we would’ve persuaded him to get a drink at the Gold Cane. Once there, Spoonie would drink just long enough for Jim and I to get loud and talky with others. As soon as we turned away, he would pull his disappearing act and walk home down Haight Street, alone. Drinking in public just wasn’t his style.

Those days are long past, and our old city friends like Kris (Spoonie) all fled for other pastures. Which sucks, because we just learned that two very cool friends of ours, Rhodester and Coffeesister, are in dire need of a place to live in San Francisco.

They have to be out of their current place at the end of this week, and they have nowhere to go.

Rhodester and Coffeesister Want a Place to Live, Now!

Jim and I keep wracking our brains, trying to figure out if we know anyone who might have a room open in their house or know somebody who does, but we’re drawing a blank. So we’re asking you all to spread the word.

Rhodester (Dave) was laid off over a year ago, and  is collecting unemployment while job-seeking in SF. He’s a writer in real life but is looking for anything in hospitality or security to pay the bills. He’s also damn funny, and has previously been a professional mime, performer and radio personality. Coffeesister (Dorian) is a kind-hearted woman with a sharp pen who is also battling auto-immune issues without any health insurance coverage.

They’re looking for a room to rent, and they don’t need anything fancy. Wifi would be nice, as Dave works online. For now they’ll take what we can get as long as it’s in the City, and is accepting of their two very clean and awesome cats.

If Spoonie were here, I know he would open his gigantic heart and offer them a place to stay, even if was just on his couch. Like drinking at the bar, saying “no” to someone in need wasn’t his thing.

Do you happen to know anyone in San Francisco who’s as kind, and has a place for this awesome couple to rent? Humor and good company is included with their deposit.

Slab City: love it or hate it.

Lovers are tolerant individuals who respect the many different lifestyle choices here. Haters just can’t seem to turn away from the trash heaps and shiftless drifters, and usually depart within 24 hours.

One might assume that Slab City Lovers are younger folks on the fringes of society, but as our neighbor Bernie demonstrates, that just ain’t so.

Bernie and his wife are snowbirds, spending summers in Washington and winters here at the Slabs.

He built this RV himself, handles all of his own rig maintenance, and is building a new cottage by hand back in Washington. A former HVAC repair man, he spends his afternoons lounging and riding his ATV around the desert. He and his wife have been vegan for the last 40 years.

Bernie is 80 years old. His wife is 75. They’re just one example of the many reasons why we love staying at kooky places like Slab City.

Because you just never know who’s going to rock your world here, like Don the musician.

My wife told me not to get her anything for Valentine’s Day. I suppose I should be thankful for that.

“Let’s just send each other love letters,” she said. But it’s not like I can keep any secret shopping from her anyway, living 24/7 together in a 200 sq. ft. box. Nor can I get all crafty and surprise her with the type of personalized greetings I used to make with all our printers and graphic production equipment. So hear goes…

Dearest René,

I’ll keep this brief, because even the most eloquent words cannot convey the depth of my love for you. I cannot count the ways I love thee, for there are just not enough numbers. I know I don’t express it enough, but without you, I am but an insignificant spec lost, alone, in this big scary universe. You don’t just complete me. You make me all that I am.

With you by my side, I am a happy man. Your smile brightens my every day. And a night never goes by without your comfort giving me peace.

Above all, I am eternally grateful for everything you do. All that we have enjoyed, all that we have become, I owe to you.

Thank you for being mine.

xoxoxoxoxox

~ Your Sappy Valentine

PS: Remember this?

So the new elevation motor for our F2 satellite dish finally arrived. Many thanks to Solar Mike for letting us use his address. But of course the package did not include any of the insulated Scotch Locks I was promised it would. Big surprise, it was hard enough getting a tracking number from MotoSat.

“If you’re near a Lowe’s or home Depot…” the MotoSat tech started to tell me where I could get some Scotch Locks. I cut him off with a laugh, “Yeah, right!” A couple standard insulated wire connectors I had would have to do the trick.

After a day of brief flash floods, and too many days of sharing our MiFi wireless internet connection, I was able to quickly and easily replace the motor set – thus completing yet another repair on our dish. All seemed well as the dish successfully completed its calibration. Then upon search, it returned a motor stall error, azimuth this time. Big Surprise.

Sending the dish up again resulted in success. A fluke? Perhaps. But something didn’t seem right. When the dish went down, it’s azimuth was way off. While the D3 controller reported 0º azimuth, the dish was clearly out of alignment. After a couple more tests we could could not reproduce the error. So we are back online with good ol’ satellite 91 West – telling ourselves again that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Deep down we are hoping we don’t have another motor going bad, however, because MotoSat informed us of an interesting clause in their warranty agreement. All replacement parts are only covered under warranty from the original system purchase date. So the replacement motors – yes, motors plural – we have installed, are only covered until our original warranty is up. A date which is quickly approaching. As I said, big surprise.

Overheard at the Slab City Library: Champagne Living on a Beer Budget? … Hey, can I have that? … Serendipity in action.

Funny how I kicked off the new year that way – remembering the old adage momma would often cite. And funny that this 1969 guide by Mike and Marilyn Ferguson for How to Buy the Best for Less came to my attention while boondocking for free among both shiny monster RVs and deep rooted old buses.

As mother would also often question though, “Funny ha ha or funny peculiar”?

Either way, funnier yet are various applicable quotes I turned to throughout Champagne Tastes on a Beer Budget:

Happiness is being rich enough to ask the man to show you something cheaper.
~ Johnny Carson

We choose to live like vagrants here for a while because it is much cheaper than the alternative of paying for comfortable amenities, and richness is measured in many more ways than wealth. Others live on the slabs out of need, all rich in their own ways.

Necessity never made a good bargain.
~ Poor Richard’s Almanac

It’s all about give and take, I say. What are you willing to give up to get what you want? And if you want freedom, for free, you might need to go without quite a bit. As most do here in Slab City, USA.

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam,
And I’ll show you a filthy house.
~Author Unknown

There seem to be many more people here this year. But you don’t see much of them, being rounded up in their safe little RV caravans as they are. Safety in numbers I suppose, among the regular miscreant vagrants, loving hippies, wandering loners and hobos.

Money, which represents the prose of life, and which is hardly spoken of in parlors without apology, is, in its effects and laws, as beautiful as roses.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

What’s that make me then? Well, I’m not quite smelling like roses these days. And I gave up a lot to enjoy the beauty within. Yes you must look past certain filth, but I’m not spending a dime (out of pocket), and am rich in personal freedom and fixed in perfect reality.