There’s a lot to be said for staying in one location, if only for a month or so.

After just a couple of weeks at our current gig, caretaking a vacant property in Southern Arizona, we’ve already settled in nicely and created daily routines that revolve around working, playing, eating and resting.

These routines are much like those of a stick-house dweller’s, except that we don’t see anyone else all week until we leave the property to go grocery shopping.

It’s just us and the wind most days. Oh, and the nasty javalenas.

Caretaking 101

The assignment is easy and our bosses are great people. They’re not asking much  from us, so we have plenty of time to catch up on our own work and bringing home the bacon. We love it.

We feel fortunate to have hooked up with a gig like this, thanks to fellow roadtrippers Kelly and Al of the Bayfield Bunch.

They’ve known the property owners here for a while and were caretaking a neighboring property, but just left.

The weather’s almost been nice enough to work and eat al fresco, but it just turned ugly and we hope this is only temporary.

Still, even during the brisk 50 degree evenings we’re seeing incredible sunsets, like this one. I’ve made a pledge to see every one while we’re here. Most of them look something like this (and no, I didn’t Photoshop this image).

Meanwhile, our Wyatt loves the freedom to roam the fenced property like a dirty ol’ ranch dawg. He’s made a  new friend too.

Gregory the Peccary.

That nasty javalena drives Wyatt insane (moreso than usual) whenever he makes an appearance at sunset. Gregory provides hours of entertainment for all of us.

Water, Water….everywhere?

I was surprised to see that even the smallest properties around here have irrigation running out to landscaping, chicken coops, you name it.

After all, we come from Colorado, where it’s illegal to wash our truck, or water our outdoor plants with our own well water. Water is so precious to Coloradoans, because no water comes into the state, but it all leaves and heads south . . . eventually ending up right here, in the big ol’ Rio Grande dustbowl along the border.

Once that precious resource gets here, people get to water their plants with the very same water that I’m not allowed to use in my backyard, where it originally comes from.

I have to buy water from our property association if I want to use it for outdoor purposes. But Arizonans don’t. Huh?

I like griping about it. Jim says I’m just mad because I can’t use water like this on our property without getting busted. You bet I would, if I could get away with it.

Off the Grid, Away from the Rules

But here in Southern Arizona, just shy of the border, it’s no-man’s land. People who live here are free to do what they want. From the funky handbuilt houses to the backyard shooting ranges, in a lot of ways the Wild West lives on.

And why not?

If you’re rugged enough to make a home for yourself here, I guess you deserve to make your own rules. It’s not exactly the most hospitable environment and most people aren’t cut out for it. I know I’m not.

Someone’s gotta do it though, right?

There are some great sights nearby, like the artsy old mining town of Bisbee, which we plan on exploring more during our stay.

Until then, we’re putting our noses to the grindstone, working away to make a buck on that great hamster wheel of life. We put in some long hours most days, but at least we’ve got a spectacular view out of our office window.

Ah, California. Land of sunshine, beaches, beautiful people and . . .

The most outrageous fuel prices in the country!

When we arrived, diesel was just up over $3.00 a gallon. Now, it’s almost at $4. The longer we hang out, the higher prices climb. It’s like a flashback to 2008. Scary stuff.

After several weeks of hanging out, the L.A. basin is starting to remind us of crabs in a pot.

Soon, we’ll beat a path out of here, and head somewhere far away.

Here, actually.

A small ranch in Southern Arizona, where our friends Kelly and Al have been caretaking every winter. We camped there with them for a night once, and loved the peace and quiet. Last Fall, Kelly and Al hooked us up with the property owners, and now we have a short caretaking gig at their place in February/March.

We’ll have some animals and acreage to look after, along with wide open skies, big views and a whole lot of quiet.

Then in late March, as long as fuel prices don’t get too much higher, we’ll head to Big Bend National Park once again. Where the skies are even bigger, and the Longhorns outnumber the people.

Now that’s living.

I’m proud of my little warehouse worker. Just yesterday she vowed not to let it get to her, that she would just do her job the best she could and punch her clock like a good worker bee would.

This morning she apparently stood her ground and told them something completely different, and was then sent home early yet again. We got to walk Wyatt together, and now she’s taking a much deserved nap. It’s good to have Margie home again, but I’ll let her tell the rest of the story.

It sure would be nice to know what happened to all those lucrative overtime hours we heard about though. But then again, I also heard that consumer sales for this Black Friday weekend were up a whopping 0.5% from last year too.

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.

First off, my apologies to anyone who is put off by the last few posts I’ve written. Yes, I know I’ve taken on a negative tone, but this blog been one of my main outlets after being treated like a subhuman at Satan’s Castle. Sorry to be a downer, I’m not usually like this. When this gig is over at Christmas, we’ll be back on the road traveling around, and living the Dream part we enjoy so much more.

This Friday, Black Friday, I start 12 hour shifts. This is where the money is, this is why I’m here, and I’m not going to have the energy to write. So you’ll be hearing more from Jim and less from me, except maybe my occasional reports about silly and suprising items I see coming down the conveyor belt. Like these. . . .

Jobs are scarce everywhere you go, and we are all thankful for whatever we can earn right now. But it’s a sad commentary on America’s standard of living, when so many of the working poor I’ve talked to consider Satan’s pay rate to be pretty good ($11.50/hr).

I’m not sure why, because when I look back at the the last 20 years of my working life, I see that in real wages I’m actually earning way less than I was back in the late ’80s.

In 1988, I worked at a mannequin factory, painting faces in the art department. I was paid $8.00/hr. Then, in 1989 – 1991, I made roughly $16.00/hr putting myself through college while working for an insurance company. I thought my standard of living would only go up from there, but when I finally got my degree in ’92, jobs were scarce. So I became a coffee barista and waited tables, and made around $9.00/hr plus tips. I was barely  able to survive on that in San Francisco, but I did.

Seventeen years later, this job is paying me slightly over what I made in ’92, yet that wage is supposed to be considered good? How can that be? Certainly I’m not paying the same for food, fuel, etc., that I was back then. I’m just banking on the overtime that’s supposed to kick in this week after Black Friday, which is why I took this gig.

As the cost of living climbs, real wages keep sinking for those at the bottom. I’m so outraged that there is such a ridiculous, embarrasing disparity in this country between the rich and working poor (which, if you’re not already, you could be, very easily). Meanwhile, the Wall Street billionaires keep making obscene profits, and taking our tax money to bail their companies out. Can’t you hear them laughing?

My last week of freedom came and went too quickly. On Sunday, I start working my fulltime shift at The Great Satan.

Last Monday I attended a day-long orientation with 100 other wanna- be temp workers. It’s been 17 years since I had to do “teambuilding” and mindless repetition of training exercises to impress some manager.

Back in college, I worked for a regional office of Allstate Insurance with 1,000 other worker bees. Being subjected to the rigid structure and narrowly defined roles of corporate America was my impetus for finishing college. I never, ever wanted to be a cog in that machine.

At the orientation, we got a talk by the chief of Satan’s security at the warehouse. He discussed things like employee theft, and how to be on guard for scary threats and potential violence by co-workers. That was when I realized that it had been a long time since I worked for a huge company, with so many stressed out and unpredictable workers. The office shooting in Orlando today just drove home the point. At my last job in corporate America (circa 1991), workplace violence just wasn’t on the radar.

I really like being self-employed and working with just my hubby. Not only am I immune from a lot of things like flu viruses, but crazy people too, at least while I’m working.

Today I was in HellMart, and overheard Christmas carols on the P.A. Seems that our society is bypassing Thanksgiving altogether this year and heading straight for the big one. I’m conflicted about this. On the one hand, I really hate holiday consumerism and plan on banning the Christmas orgy once again.

On the other, I really, really want you guys to buy a lot of stuff from Satan, so I can have more overtime!

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 fulltime RVing lifestyle beckons.