Since 2001, September’s been a sucky month, and I’m not sorry to see it go.
Eight years ago today, Jim and I went on a weekend motorcycle ride in Takilma, Oregon. We needed to get away.
9/11 had just happened. Clients were running scared, business was tanking, and we were stuck with a huge commercial property we couldn’t sell.
Just when life couldn’t get any more depressing, Murphy came knocking.
Or rather, a deer.
Eight years ago today on my last motorcycle ride, I got broadsided by a six point buck. One minute I’m riding my Virago on a glorious fall afternoon. The next, I’m lying on the pavement with EMTs hovering over me, puking all over myself.
I survived the collision. Two surgeries and three years later, my recovery was as good as it was gonna get. Knowing that I had narrowly escaped death changed my life, and Jim’s, in so many ways.
Still, I hate September.
Last year, September 2008 opened the door to more emotional trauma. That’s when we knew that Jerry’s time was at hand. Understanding that he was about to leave us was worse than anything I had gone through with the motorcycle wreck.
But now, in 2009, I really believe that September is going to roll on through without incident.
The Universe has been kind to us. We have our health, our crazy Dawg, and a roof over our heads.
Here’s another one of those “luxury” purchase decisions that make one contemplate that old want vs. need dilemma.
In reality, we want a new iPod because the refurbished one we bought over two years ago no longer works. But we believe we need one because traveling cross country can drive one batty when forced to consistently fuss with the radio dial only to find the same static, classic rock, and religion. And two batty people can only take being trapped in a truck for hours a day with Eddie Money and Styx for so long.
And the former is easily answered not only because I am a Mac Addict, but I did my homework. I had no idea iPods even came with such great capacity now, so we need not be selective now about which music we add. And I am still upset over the short lifespan of our refurb – the one we originally had to return for another unit. The same one in which I replaced the battery without improving it’s playtime. But there I go digressing again. I also I discovered certain lesser capacity third-party MP3 players cost even more than the Apple iPod. That, and because we don’t need an iTouch.
Our house is on a septic system and has its own well, something entirely new to this city girl.
I’ve been told by a plumber that it’s fine to throw toxic cleaning products down the drain, but I think of all the cute creatures around here (like this bull moose we saw, just down the road), and I shudder at the thought of poisoning their environment.
I’ve always tried to make my own cleaning products using vinegar, lemon juice and water, and only rely on the hard stuff occasionally, when things are really dirty.
But making homemade laundry soap was something I’d never considered until I came across this terrific Suddenly Frugal blog. It seemed hippy dippy, and I wasn’t sure it would work. But it was so cheap to make I thought I’d at least give it a try.
This is all you need to make your own Homemade Laundry Soap:
Arm and Hammer Washing Soda
20 Mule Team Borax
Bar of Fels-Naptha Soap
It’s not easy to find these standard ingredients. These proven cleaners of yesteryear are being shoved onto the bottom aisles at the grocery store. HelMart doesn’t carry them (figures), but King Soopers here in Colorado (a Kroger store) does carry all three.
The recipe is so simple it’s ridiculous:
Get a large bucket or tote.
Combine 2 cups washing soda and 2 cups Borax.
Grate 1 bar of Fels Naptha Soap
Mix into powder
Measure 1/4 cup per load.
Wear a dust mask when mixing, or be prepared to inhale a lot of powder. Ick.
It took me maybe 10 minutes to do all of this, and one batch lasts about 4 weeks for us (I only do wash once a week). Total cost of purchasing the ingredients was, $10.84, about the same as a box of Tide, and I’m going to get at least 3 months out of the ingredients (I bought 3 bars of soap). Don’t hold me to that though; I’m innumerate.
DIY Laundry Soap really does work! There’s a reason this stuff has been around forever. But if you try it, keep these tips in mind:
Let your washer fill up at least halfway with water, to dillute the powder.
You won’t see bubbles in the water, but bubbles aren’t what cleans your clothes, detergent does.
For stains, try spot cleaning first by rubbing a bar of Fels Naptha on the stain.
There are recipes for liquid laundry soap out there, but they look like a pain, and they’re messy to make. I like this recipe the best.
I would love to keep making this laundry soap while we’re on the road this winter, but I’m not sure I’ll have the space in the RV to store the ingredients. Time will tell when I get to packing again in a few weeks. That’ll be fun.
I think that boat left without us. This is supposed the first day of Autumn. But I think Autumn got scared, and flew south too. Looks like winter is here.
This is the scene outside today. A winter storm warning has been issued for the next few days. Lucky for us, we’ve got food, booze and Internet. And Wyatt Ray really loves playing all this white stuff.
I’ll never forget the look on his face when we took him outside in the morning. Jim opened the door, and Wyatt’s ears went straight up. His eyes bugged out of his skull. He jumped and romped and spun around and just couldn’t understand what all of that white stuff was!
The Farmers Almanac is predicting a cold, hard winter in these parts. I look outside at our snow-covered rig, and thank Dog that we are in the house right now. The outside temperature is in the low 30s, but it’s warm and toasty inside the house with our fire going.
Just in case anyone was wondering if perhaps we thinking of “settling down” here at Jerry’s Acres, for the record, we are not ready to commit to staying here for the entire year. I know, I know, we just got here. Seems like yesterday we were getting bombed on champagne and playing Scrabble on our first night here.
But the aspens are turning yellow, there is a definite chill in the air. Soon we’ll do the sensible snowbird thing, and head south for the winter. For there’s still so much to see, and far too many adventures in store. And besides, Wyatt Ray needs to get out there on the road and see the great big world that’s out there waiting for him.
We’ve been busy making plans for our flight south. Looks like we’ll workamping in November and December, either in Kansas or Nevada. Then, we’ll head to see my familia in Southern California for Christmas (it wouldn’t be the same unless we had another sweltering Christmas day in the shadow of downtown L.A.). After that, we’ll more than likely turn east and head to New Braunfels, Texas again, to hook up with our NuRVers friends at Landa. But first, we’ll stop at the Slabs again for some free boondocking and interesting ambiance.
But winter won’t be all fun and games. Our budget situation is such that we’ll need to get our butts in gear and start making some real money now. Getting to Texas is going to cost us, big time. So this means even more plowing away at our online endeavors, as well as workamping or (gasp!) temp jobs in bigger cities that can bring in some real money (well, as “real” as it gets when you live like hoboes) until we return to Colorado in late March.
The Morris Foundation is the leading animal cancer research organization in the world. Their Canine Cancer Campaign has a goal to raise $30 million to cure canine cancer in the next 10 to 20 years, a dog’s lifetime.
We formed Team Tripawds to walk this Saturday, and our generous Tripawd friends in the Bay Area are holding a Team Tripawds “Virtual Walk” on the same day, at the same time, where they will walk with us in spirit, raising funds in the process.
Cancer in any form is an awful disease, and for dogs, it’s reaching epidemic proportions. If you want to see canine cancer cured as badly as we do, please consider any donation you can spare to Morris, on behalf of Team Tripawds. Even a dollar will help. Thanks!
Epic road trips are the stuff that great drinking stories are made of. But few of us have the skill to turn those tall tales into a full-length novel, and keep people laughing till they snort so hard their beer spews out their nose.
A stand-up comedian and former comedy writer for Jay Leno and other Hollywood comedians, Jerome shares the mishaps and adventures that happened to him on his travels across America in the mid ’90s. Slightly autobiographical and mostly so strange that you can’t possibly believe this stuff actually happened to him, Jerome tells the tale of Roastbeef, a shiftless, broke college student with an older father who’s ridden with Alzheimers. But Roastbeef’s dad isn’t just any old patient suffering from dementia. No, this guy truly believes he’s Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Shouting presidential orders from his hospital bed, Roastbeef’s dear old Dad demands that upon his death, Roastbeef must spread his ashes in “all 48 states” (remember, there were only 48 states in FDR’s time). Always the dutiful son, Roastbeef humors his Dad and halfheartedly agrees to it. But when Dad finally dies, Roastbeef rises to the occasion and takes up the cause of keeping this unusual deathbed promise.
He sets out in his crappy college-student car to literally dust every state with his Dad’s cremains. But hitting the road without much money presents challenges, and Roastbeef doggedly pursues his mission on everything from a moped to freight trains, while working odd jobs across America to help him fulfill it.
From the time Roastbeef unknowingly befriends a pot dealer and gets thrown in the slammer, to hitching rides with pregnant brides and psychopaths, to being coerced into visiting a Tiajuanna whorehouse with his Dad’s old military buddy, Jerome’s dry humor never runs out of gas.
In the back of the book, Jerome promises that if any reader takes a photo of him or herself holding “Roastbeef’s Promise” in any of the specific locations mentioned in this story, they’ll get a free Roastbeef’s Promise t-shirt for their efforts. So because I’m tightwad looking for a freebie, here I am at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, where Jerome spent a couple of weeks couch surfing with frat boys.
I really loved Roastbeef’s Promise, and not just for the free t-shirt offer either. Get your copy today, or, before October 30th, send me an email along with your funniest road trip story (which we get to publish on our blog). In return, you can have my almost new copy (hey I have limited space in my rig, I’m happy to give it away). If we have more than one person who enters, we’ll draw a random name.
I do love our mobile lifestyle, but it feels great to have a home base. Especially one with lots of room for our stuff, incredible views, and most importantly … unlimited running water and electricity!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for renewable energy and living off grid. But in the search for our perfect piece of paradise, we realized it just didn’t make sense to invest in a suitable solar array somewhere if we weren’t going to live there year-round. We did however consider a a few awesome off-grid properties …
The best of which was this fully self sufficient compound in the Sand Creek area of Northern Colorado. Which is a good thing, considering it is hours from anywhere and inaccessible year-round without a snowmobile.
The funny thing is, we first noticed this property for sale early in our trip during our first pass through Colorado. Returning to the area, we just had to check it out and see why it was still on the market. The realtor explained that everyone thinks it’s too remote. On the two-hour drive back to Fort Collins, via Wyoming, we agreed.
Since we were already way out there in Sand Creek, we decided to check out other properties.
These included a smelly mobile home with an old generator, and ranged from a remote cabin with no trees, no seclusion and no power, to this sprawling geodesic ranch home. It does have a robust power system, and it also has a huge barn, with a SnowCat inside.
Seeing the SnowCat was when we first started thinking twice about Sand Creek.
The craziest decision we almost made, however, was thinking twice about this incredible piece of property in Badger Creek, CO, just east of Salida.
The terrain was amazing, as was the amount of work needed. Our RV solar system is more powerful than the one cobbled together at this place sometime in the 70s.
We considered vacant land too, where we could boondock for a couple months a year. But when we did the math, we realized we would probably end up with only a well and garage, all for the same price as our new comfy digs.
Another funny thing … a vacant piece of land we really loved is just up the hill from where I’m sitting, in my Dad’s recliner . . . listening to my stereo, with the lights on . . . without a single worry about my solar system batteries.
How can a new dog ever live up to the expectations set by your Forever Dog? Your one true dog who was so nearly perfect, so obedient, so smart, and so loving?
Well, he can’t. And you shouldn’t expect him to either. Because every pup is his own dog, and has new, different, and important lessons to each you.
And so, we are back at our place in Colorado, trying to get into some kind of routine and regular training schedule with our new Tripawd hero, Wyatt Ray. Wyatt is definitely teaching us different lessons than Jerry did. Mostly about patience, and dedication to the positive role that structure plays in life.
Considering the rough start he had in life, he’s doing pretty well. We know Jerry‘s watching out for him (and whispering in his gigantic ears, telling him to stop chewing up our house).
Here’s a quick video Jim made for our Tripawds site, that shows us in our backyard and along the roads where we live, with Wyatt, Tripawd extraordinaire.
Since 2001, September’s been a sucky month, and I’m not sorry to see it go.
Here’s another one of those “luxury” purchase decisions that make one contemplate that old want vs. need dilemma.
Our house is on a septic system and has its own well, something entirely new to this city girl.
In the back of the book, Jerome promises that if any reader takes a photo of him or herself holding “
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