live. work. dream.

This one’s for the Carson Park Ranger.

This funny friend of mine has a hilarious routine about old full-time RVing couples, one of which we encountered at a wayside near Gaylord, MI. Where I came from they’re called rest stops, but that’s not the point.

As we rested at this wayside stop, we spotted a man and woman identical to those in the Ranger’s shtick.

You see, the old man’s gotta have overalls and a feed cap – the full-timer’s uniform. Personally, I prefer the shorts and tank top that have become my uniform of choice.

The only thing missing from this picture was a yapping little dog, but from the sounds of things it was back in the trailer.

About 4 states ago, I whined about how I was stunned find out that people in North Dakota didn’t have fresh local lettuce all year long. Silly, spoiled native Californian. Getting out and into the real U.S. has opened my eyes.

As a lacto-ovo vegetarian since 1989, I always tried to live by the creed “Eat / Buy / Act Locally.” And when living in California, abiding by it was easy. I never gave much thought to those organic hearts of Romaine I’d buy in December. Even though I was paying as much as $3.00 a bunch, the lettuce was organic, and it was “local” because it grew in my own state, so it didn’t travel that far. During summer, as I bought salad greens at the Farmer’s Market each week, I was mentally adding up my bonus karma points. Score! How much more local and hippy dippy could I get? My, did I feel righteous at the checkout line!

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