live. work. dream.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

From the People’s Guide to Mexico Copper Canyon Tourism Page …

“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?

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.

Well, it’s time for that whole Black Friday and Cyber Monday weekend business that’s been keeping the local newspapers fat for the past few weeks. And while on a run with Wyatt around 8:00 a.m. this morning, I noticed one good consumer couple already unloading various stuffed shopping bags from their car. They must have heard, the economy has recovered! But don’t they know there are deals to be had online…

I’m not exactly sure what such a negative connotation as Black Friday has to do with a great day for shopping. But it was certainly dark when Rene climbed on her bike and headed off in the freezing cold this morning to begin her overtime hours at Amazon. And while Wyatt is a handful, the rig is certainly lonely without her.

As long as she gets all those hours the Great Satan has promised her, our stay in Fernley might be worthwhile, and just maybe we’ll be able to afford running the furnace every morning for the next month. So don’t forget … if you plan on shopping online this year, please start here.

And if you’d rather not contribute to the evil Empire, consider this…

Or this…

And don’t forget Fido and Fluffy…

Or those outdoorsy folks on your list…

Or if you’re looking for something bit different for that someone special…

Thank you for your continued support.