live. work. dream.

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.

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.

Jim likes to tell people “Stop shoulding all over yourself!” Shouldding is unproductive and creates misery. Shouldding keeps you from doing what you really want to do.

It’s not easy to eliminate it from your vocabulary. We’re conditioned to take on obligations that “should” lead to happiness (I should go to school. . . should make lots of money. . . should start a family. . . should buy a house). Meanwhile, all this shouldding all over ourselves creates huge demands on our time, and brings our youthful dreams to a screeching halt. Then one day we wake up and realize we are trapped in the “Someday Syndrome.”

We can all use some help finding our way back to our dreams, and Alex Fayle’s new book, “Someday I’ll Get Around To It” is the perfect place to start.

Alex is a “Someday-busting Coach.” He helps people dust off their dreams, sort them out, and create a plan for obtaining the life they really want. His new e-book, “Someday I’ll Get Around To It” shares his strategies for someday-busting.

In this 100-page workbook style format, we learn how to make conscious choices to create happier lives that more closely reflect our dreams. Alex walks us through ways to overcome inertia and understand our limitations and obstacles. We learn how letting go of control will free up time and enable us to achieve our goals. And finally, his useful worksheets in the back of the book will help us draft simple, doable plans to help achieve our dreams in step-by-step increments.

Life is short. Live your dreams. And remember, you can’t justify putting your dreams on hold, by listing all of your obligations.

Because like Alex says, “In not pursuing your dreams, recognize that you are choosing not to pursue your dreams.”

If you are at all doubtful that Alex can help, just read about his life here. You can also read his interview with Jim and I.

Don’t wait for Someday.

Sell your crap. Pay off your debt. Do what you love.

We hit the road yesterday for the first time since early December. And as with all first days on the road, things didn’t go quite as smoothly as we would have liked. We are definitely rusty.

First, we missed our exit to the Slabs, and almost ended up in Quartzsite. Drove about 25 miles out of our way.

Next, when we were in search of water, we took a wrong turn and drove another 10 miles in the opposite direction. The small road we were on was so flooded from the recent rains, we couldn’t find a dry enough place to turn around.

Once we got to the Slabs, I opened up our door, and saw hummus everywhere. Good thing the flour didn’t spill too!

As I proceeded to clean up the mess, Jim tried to turn on the Motosat dish. Guess what? That pain in the ass dish is acting up again, and won’t go up. Thank Dog we have Internet redundancy with our MiFi setup. If we couldn’t get online to manage Tripawds, we would be on our way to the nearest service shop. Apparently our F2 motor is dead . . . again.

All this, during our first day back on the road. In the past, I might have fallen apart at so many mishaps in one day. Because when you’re new on the road, multiple screw ups in one day happen a lot, and they can be upsetting. At least to me they were. Jim’s always been a little better about not letting them get him down.

But after almost three years on the road, I’m happy to say that we are both able to handle these things with a smile.

A few cocktails also work wonders.  Good thing we’re stocked up.

Our time in L.A. is nearing an end. Over forty days of living in the big city, and we’re getting homesick for our rig. It sits outside under a tree, and the birds are having a party on our roof. It’s time to get the rig out from under the shade, and under a blazing desert sky, where it belongs.

Any time we spend in cities is reassurance that we did the right thing by choosing to live like hillbillies.

We drove on the freeway, and it took us nearly two hours to travel 29 miles. Things are too fast, too crowded and just too much for us.

We’ve had a good visit with the family. Also met some world-renowned canine health professionals and interviewed them for Tripawds. And last week, ate at two of the best Asian restaurants we’ve been to in a while. Both are located in the San Gabriel Valley, where my parents live. These dining experiences reminded us that living in the city isn’t all bad.

Happy Harbor in Rowland Heights served up the best dim sum we’ve had since San Francisco. We also ate at a funky little 40 year old sushi joint in the Hacienda Heights ghetto, Akasaka.

We haven’t had sushi in over a year. We just have a thing about eating sushi anywhere other than the coast. It’s just wrong, and to us, the freshest sushi you can get is definitely worth the wait.

The plan is to leave here on Sunday, after the rains end. We’ll head straight for Slab City, where we a warm desert is waiting for us, with dark night skies and solitude.

Angelenos are getting all worked up over the rain that’s been falling on Southern California. Yesterday, a tornado warning was announced, and minutes later a small “tornadic-like” formation touched down and blew over a car. The hills are sliding and freeways are a mess. Parents are keeping their kids home from school.

Even though this kind of weather action is mild in comparison to our old stomping grounds of rainy, wet Humboldt County, we’re still glad to be staying in a stick house while riding this episode out.

The Los Angeles area hasn’t seen rain since Christmas. I was hoping we wouldn’t see any bad weather this winter, but it is January after all. When the rain started falling, I had to dig our rain jackets out of storage in the RV. Even funnel clouds and heavy rain won’t stop us from going outside every day. That’s because Wyatt Ray just won’t cut us any slack. If our one year-old puppy doesn’t get three walks a day, he will eat the furniture. Morning, noon and night, he begs to go outside for a walk, and we comply. Dogs are great at getting you to break away from work and into the great outdoors.

One morning, as Wyatt led me on a walk during a heavy downpour, my soaking wet clothes were an unpleasant reminder that the Gore-tex water-resistance on my gear is fading away.

Gear lust started whispering in my ear again; I want . . . I want . . . I want. . .

Time to start looking for something else, like maybe a new Berghaus jacket?

Being on the road again means that you’re much more likely to talk to a variety of people that you wouldn’t otherwise bump into in your own backyard.

When I was Satan’s minion in Fernley Nevada, we were camped across from Julia, a 77-year old fulltimer who roams the country with her cat and two dogs.

I admired her fiercely independent and self-reliant nature, and we had a lot to talk about during our downtime when we weren’t chained to Satan’s workshop. I knew I liked her when she said she preferred to boondock, even at Slab City.

Even in our modern world, many people are still shocked to find women traveling alone, and few women I know would consider it. In our two years on the road, I’ve only met one other solo woman traveler, Eva from Portland. I wish more women would find the courage to explore this lifestyle, because it doesn’t have to be a lonely or scary journey. As Julia says in my interview with her, there are numerous groups devoted to solo RVing, and you can always bring a dog along to keep you company.

Here are some valuable tips and insight that Julia has to offer to potential women RVers: