Our rig has been parked on the streets of L.A. for the last few weeks, while we catch up on the chisme with family and friends. Life here is as hectic and noisy as it gets, and every day Jim and I are reminded of why we chose to leave urban living behind.
We started 2009 with one goal; find Jerry’s Acres. Seven months into it, we did. Our Colorado retreat now sits underneath several feet of snow, waiting for our return.
With that behind us, we’re getting the other big part of our life in order, namely, making a real income again.
Our defnition of “real income” is different from most people’s. While we would love to be able to spend money on the finer things in life (like picking up a $20 bottle of wine instead of our old standard, Two Buck Chuck), we also aren’t willing to surrender our freedom in order to do so. My very short gig at Satan’s Castle was a good reminder about that.
People wonder, what do we do. How do we make any money? Well, we don’t do any one particular thing anymore. We don’t want to have one business again. And we don’t want to rely on one job to bring in money. We believe that putting all of your eggs in one basket is risky business, much moreso than varying your skills and finding multiple ways to generate income.
For us now, tiny bits of money trickle in from various web-based outlets that utilize our technical, design and writing skills. In 2010, we’ll work on building up our income revenue streams in these areas.
The money is iffy, the hours are long and uncertainty always looms over our heads, but we are much happier than we ever were in our previous lives. While we are still officially in the red and dipping into savings, I know that 2010 will be the year we are back in black, finally. It would be great if we could actually contribute to our retirement accounts once more. When that happens, I’ll know that we’ve truly been successful these last two and a half years.
On that note, I’ll say “Adios!” to 2009, and give 2010 a great big welcome. May this year bring the prosperity, joy and peace that we all need more of in our lives.
And many thanks to all of you for being a part of our world. Life would be pretty boring without you!
Here’s a book review that is long overdue. We originally requested a review copy of American Nomads by Richard Grant, but to make a long story short, we got to review God’s Middle Finger instead. And I’m glad we did.
René read it first. She’s a much faster reader than I am, and suggested I write the review – hence the delay. Perhaps she knows a bit too much about my sordid high school daze. Or that I would just love any book filled with drug references that starts off with a thrilling scene straight out of Scarface. Nevertheless, I did. Love the book that is.
But even more than learning the meaning of perico, I enjoyed discovering the truth about just how safe it is to travel through the Sierra Madre, not. The books subtitle gives it a way – “Into the Lawless Heart of the Sierra Madre.” But it doesn’t quite begin to describe the crazy deadly adventure Grant dragged himself on, deeper and deeper into Mexico’s mountainous region known mostly for marijuana plantations and cocaine production.
Any history buff interested in Pancho Villa will enjoy reading God’s Middle Finger; because in it, Grant follows the trail of the legendary bandido. At points, a bit too far.
This book is also a must-read for any RVer considering one of those caravans through Copper Canyon. Yes, it is definitely better to travel in numbers. And yes, the dangers have been much worse in the past. But if Grant’s tale about the Copper canyon train being held up by narcos pissed off at regional authorities is any indication, I won’t be going anytime soon. I’d much rather just read about it.
“In the unlikely event of a train robbery, be calm, quiet and cooperative. In other words, don’t argue; just hand over the loot.”
The book does serve as a good guide for anyone who dares to travel off the beaten path south of the border. It offers much advice similar to the above that just might save your life. Like … be sure to speak Spanish, don’t look anyone in the eye, and never turn them down if they offer you a drink. And if they do, prepare to get muy intoxicado before saying goodnight.
I also like any book that talks about places we’ve been. And after reading this one, I’m glad we didn’t walk much further than we did away from the Plaza in Agua Prieta on our five dollar Mexican vacation last year. Or places I would love to see, and this one does a wonderful job vividly illustrating the beautiful terrain of the Sierra Madre and the drunken religious rituals of the Tarahumara Indians.
Once discovering how the opening scene winds up at the end of Grant’s book, one can’t help but wonder why he traveled so compulsively on such an uncertain path. He answers this question quite succinctly early in chapter three …
“I felt a rush of excitement, a sensation of being fully alive and immersed in the present moment.”
This too, is is the driving force behind my wanderlust.
Grant’s adventures might make a great movie. But without being the first hand documentary that this book is, it would most certainly end up being one of those “You should’ve read the book first” flicks. I’ll gladly settle for this Amazon video which sheds some light on the reasoning behind Grant’s chosen title for God’s Middle Finger:
PS: For anyone who might be wondering how I embedded this video from Amazon.com, when Amazon’s media Share link does not include object embed code, never underestimate the power of your browser’s “View Page Source” function!
Regular readers may remember that Jim and I aren’t exactly big gearheads. With our frugal lifestyle and relatively non-existent income right now, we must carefully choose the gear we need, to get the most out of our budget. And we understand that there’s a difference between being cheap, and being frugal. Buying cheap gear is always more expensive in the long run.
Take for example, this North Face jacket I’m wearing during our stay at Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park in Colorado. The jacket has served me well for the last 8 years, but lately I’ve been thinking that it’s time for a replacement. This one was cutting edge at the time, but by today’s standard it’s bulky, heavy, and army green isn’t exactly the most flattering color. It’s also overkill for our winter travel adventures in the temperate southwest and should probably be left at our Colorado home base.
Coincidentally, I was introduced to The North Face Resolve jacket today, through Webtogs, an online retailer specializing in quality outdoor gear.
The North Face Resolve jacket features include:
seam sealed, waterproof, breathable fabric
soft, lined collar
stow-away hood
mesh-knit liner
storm baffle front zipper with double front closure
big pockets on both sides
athletic cut with a drawstring cord for tailored fit
As you might be able to see in the photo, I’m a walking billboard for North Face gear. My boots and jacket are North Face and so are the base layers I wear. Their products last forever and hold up beautifully, making them a frugal RVer’s dream.
The North Face Resolve jacket looks compact enough to fit in our tiny RV wardrobe closet, yet sturdy enough to give me the protection I need from the spring rains in Texas.
With Christmas around the corner, I think it’s time for an upgrade, don’t you?
Anyone who lives on the California coast, and loves to bake, is spoiled rotten. I know, I used to be one of those lucky bakers.
When we lived in Eureka, I could whip up a sourdough starter in my sleep, and my French bread would taste better than almost anything I could buy at a bakery. I could follow recipes to the letter, and rarely would anything go wrong.
But then we moved on up in the world . . . to 8400′, and my breadmaking talents went to hell.
I tried using that expensive high altitude flour, and adding vital wheat gluten. I followed some high altitude baking tips, cut back on the yeast and salt, and added more liquid.
But bread baking tips are all anyone can give. High altitude baking is nothing but a big science experiment. I had a few successes while we were at our new house, but most of the time, my bread ended up looking like an exploded volcano.
Anyone have any high altitude bread baking tips you’d care to add?
By the time we left our mountain home in between snowstorms, it felt like an episode of M*A*S*H with us bugging out and heading South before getting hit hard. On a side note, a weather report from Red Feather lakes last week said it was -2 degrees back home.
But we did have time to winterize the place, which based on that report, we are very glad we did.
In addition to a few minor exterior repairs, below are the steps we took to ensure our house survives the severe Colorado winter.
Steps for Winterizing Mountain Home:
Close and/or cover all heating vents.
Remove all food from premises.
Clean out refrigerator.
Remove all ice from freezer and shut off water supply to ice maker.
Turn heater thermostat off.
Turn off fuel supply and/or electricity to furnace.
Turn off fuel supply and/or electricity to water heater.
Turn off well pump.
Drain well water pressure tank.
Drain hot water heater.
Drain water from and insulate any outdoor hose bibs.
Drain water from all interior faucets.
Flush toilets to drain tanks and remove excess water in bowls.
Plunge out excess water from all waste water traps.
Plug dry toilet bowls with rags.
Plug all sink and tub drains.
Expel water from lines using air pressure, if equipped.
Lock all windows and close blinds/curtains.
Deploy preferred rodent deterrence.
Plug any exterior holes with steel wool to prevent rodent entrance.
Set nail mats in front of all windows and doors to deter bears.
Unplug any phantom load items, TVs, stereos etc.
Provide contact information to neighbors.
Pray that all is well when you return.
What is a nail mat you ask? We wondered the same thing when we discovered the picket fence looking things with nails sticking out of them in the garage when we bought the place. (See photo above.) Turns out the previous owner made these bear unwelcome mats to place in front of all the windows and doors, with the screws pointing up. Let’s hope they work!
The previous owner also told us he never winterized the place, but he was often up there on winter weekends. We told this to a couple neighbors, and they both said, “He was lucky!” We’ll be gone a few months. And considering this was the first time we ever had to do anything like this, we’ll see if these steps did the trick. Talk to us next Spring.
MotoSAT’s answer for any connectivity issues with our mobile satellite internet system always seems to be, “Upgrade your firmware.”
So, I always make it a point to make sure ours is current before calling for support. I also turn to others for help. Like Sean who had this advice regarding the best positioning for quick access…
“Try increasing the size of the search window, especially in azimuth. The internal compass, like all compasses, is prone to a lot of error, and sometimes even the declination table is off. So it is possible that the bird is sitting there a few degrees outside the window, and the mount will search the whole window first, before expanding to a broader search.
Calibrating the compass also helps – the real way, which involves turning the rig around an exact 180° – especially if it has not been done in a while.
Lastly, be aware that if you park such that the bird is nearly directly above the way the dish points when stowed (usually directly aft), then the dish will search all possible elevations at a few degrees azimuth before spinning all the way around to try all the elevations at ~360° azimuth. This can add significant time to the search. We try to avoid parking in this orientation, and, if we want to stop someplace just to put the dish up, I even try to park such that the bird will be found in the first ~90° of azimuth – saves time and wear on the drive motor.”
Well, it turns out that compass calibration isn’t even possible with our dish. One expert installer informed us that only older systems have a compass.
But we recently tested Sean’s parking position theory when it took forever for our system to identify any signal. We had inadvertently parked with 91W directly to the rear of our rig. Sure enough, when we relocated and parked pointing a little more West, we were online within a couple minutes. This position works best for us anyway, especially when boondocking. Doing so prevents the dish’s large shadow from covering our solar panel throughout the day.
It wasn’t the work that did me in. It was the fact that I cannot be part of an organization that does not value the Individual.
From high school to my first office job at an insurance company, large impersonal institutions and I just never got along. Had I remembered this before I decided to work at Satan’s Castle, I could have spared myself some grief (and been in a warmer climate by now).
Last week we were supposed to start 12 hour shifts, but instead, almost every day, we got sent home after just a few hours of work. “The volume isn’t there,” said the outbound shipping department manager. Soon it became clear that the long hours and overtime Satan used as bait wasn’t going to materialize. His cheerleaders have been hitting the airwaves on NPR and CNBC, yet things have been very, very slow for us here at the Nevada warehouse.
With each shift cut short, I wondered if I was going to be able to cover the cost of December’s rent at the RV park. My patience was wearing thin.
Even more frustrating was that I just learned via Workamper that the lower-paid cogs in Kansas are getting more hours than we are. My theory is that Satan is cutting costs by shifting the bulk of the work to locations that pay less.
The Final Ingredients
Sunday morning, one of Satan’s minions walked up to me with a clipboard in hand. She was one of the nicer ones, who actually tried to remember workers’ names. The first thing she said when she saw me was “Rene, you’re going to hate me.”
She put her clipboard on my workstation, and showed me a warning notice that said I wasn’t “making the numbers,” one week into another outbound shipping job I was put on. The warning was based on the volume I processed, just two days into the new job.
I was stunned, because the Agency’s rules state that we have four weeks to get numbers up to that level. Yeah, I knew I was slow during my first few days, but for the last three days, I had consistently “made the numbers.” I couldn’t understand why I was getting a warning based on week-old volume.
The notice stated it was a “Final Warning,” but this was technically my second, because I had been kicked out of my first job for not being a “team player.” Every employee is supposed to receive three warnings before getting fired.
As a final insult, my name was misspelled on the warning.
Satan’s Minion was asking for my signature to acknowledge the warning. But I didn’t, and instead I said to her “They’re full of crap. This is only my second warning, and I was told I have four weeks to get to that production level. Why aren’t they following their own rules?”
The Minion got a distressed look on her face, and then out of nowhere, she started crying.
“I’m so sorry Rene! I hate this job! This is all I do all day long, and I only get fifty cents an hour more than you do! Yesterday I had to fire a 70 year old lady with Parkinson’s because she couldn’t make the numbers. They’re having me fire people after just a few days into training. This place is horrible! I just put in my two week notice because I can’t take it anymore!”
She stood there crying, while I looked on, stunned. She was very pregnant, and said she really needed the money, but she just couldn’t work for a place that treated people like crap.
I felt badly for her, but I was going to stand my ground.
I refused to sign it. I told her “I’m sorry, but I want them to tell me why this is a ‘Final Warning,’ and why I’m being expected to meet Week Four quotas. They’re ignoring their own rules. I won’t sign it, I can’t.”
She agreed it was wrong, and she said she would look into it, but couldn’t promise anything. Then she left, and five minutes later, another minion came by to announce that we all had to go home, two hours into our shift. There wasn’t enough work. “Come back tomorrow,” she yelled to us.
What’s It Worth?
As I clocked out and walked through the metal detector exit, my head was spinning. Could I stand working there for just four more weeks? Could I live with the uncertainty of the hours I was getting, or of being fired any minute without just cause? What if all this agony doesn’t even cover the $400 in rent I had just paid for December?
On my way home, I remembered that the RV park owner had said that if things didn’t work out during the first four days of the month, she would refund the rent and charge me a daily rate. That’s when I knew what I had to do.
I pulled into the park and stopped at the office. I asked the manager if I could take her up on that offer. Thankfully, she did.
I went to the rig, and told Jim what happened.
I won’t work for a company that relies on fear tactics and bullying. Maybe some people can tolerate that kind of environment, but I won’t. I have my self-respect, and cash-crunch or not, know I am worthy of better treatment. Life is too short.
Then I picked up the phone, and made my stand. I called Satan’s Agency to tell them I quit.
Jim is thrilled, and now I feel like a huge anvil has been lifted off my head.
Looking back, I realize that I took this job because I was letting fear rule my life. Almost three years into our sabbatical, our dwindling savings account is telling me that we have to get serious about making money. But instead of buckling down and earnestly working to make our new business venture happen, I opted for what I thought was the quick and easy way out; the false sense of security one gets with a paycheck. What a sham.
Instead of following our dream, I took the paved road to hell, and paid dearly for it.
We started 2009 with one goal; find Jerry’s Acres. Seven months into it, we did. Our Colorado retreat now sits underneath several feet of snow, waiting for our return.
People wonder, what do we do. How do we make any money? Well, we don’t do any one particular thing anymore. We don’t want to have one business again. And we don’t want to rely on one job to bring in money. We believe that putting all of your eggs in one basket is risky business, much moreso than varying your skills and finding multiple ways to generate income.
René read it first. She’s a much faster reader than I am, and suggested I write the review – hence the delay. Perhaps she knows a bit too much about my sordid high school daze. Or that I would just love any book filled with drug references that starts off with a thrilling scene straight out of Scarface. Nevertheless, I did. Love the book that is.
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