What a thrill to see that Casiokids are Amazon’s “Free Download of the Day.”

Who are Casiokids you ask? Only one of the best bands we saw last year at South By Southwest in Austin! What a thrill to know that we saw this quirky, 80′s-style Norwegian techno group when they were unknowns here in the U.S., playing in a parking lot where they had to throw free beer into the audience to get people to show up.

Ok, gotta admit, the free beer is why we stayed to check ‘em out. But it worked! They left an impression on us, and we’re so glad to see they’re about to make it big here in the states.

Download their free MP3 and you’ll see why we loved them. Buy their vinyl album (or MP3s or CDs). Tell a friend. And remember, we saw them when they were nobody!

As a vegetarian since 1989, I’ve never liked rodeos.

The whole idea of tying up an animal or wrestling him to the ground for sport always just seemed appalling to me.

I had never actually seen a rodeo in person before, but all these years took PETA on its word that  “rodeos are nothing more than manipulative displays of human domination over animals, thinly disguised as entertainment.”

Skill or Stupidity? You Decide.

When we were in Sweetwater, we happened to camp out at the fairgrounds the same weekend the West Texas Rodeo Association was in town. For just the price of our campsite, we had the option of checking out two days worth of events, free. Jim assumed I would want to leave, or at least organize a protest. But something compelled me to check it out. Being a cheapskate I figured I had nothing to lose if I found it as horrible as I always heard it would be. At least I would know PETA wasn’t exaggerating. After all these years, this veggie-burger eatin’, sprout growin’ hippie was going to judge rodeos for herself, I thought.

We watched all sorts of amateur rodeo competitions, like chute dogging, where a contestant (always male, wonder why?) jumps into the steer’s chute and when the gates are opened, hangs on by the horns while the steer runs down the field and then the guy attempts to wrestle the animal to the ground within 30 seconds.

There was also goat tying, where brawny farm girls wearing feed caps ride into the stadium on a horse, dismount, then try to throw down and tie up a tethered goat as fast as possible.

Now, call me crazy, but I think it’s pretty unfair to prod a steer to run down a field, then twist his head nearly 360 degrees around until it falls down and call it sport. Or run after a terrified baby goat that’s screaming to get away, because he knows exactly what’s coming.

On the other hand, I also learned that other competitions like barrel racing or team roping were far more reflective of true skill. Team roping is when two contestants ride alongside a steer and one tries to throw a lasso around a horn while the other goes after the steer’s rear leg with a lasso. You try throwing a lasso at a moving target and see how easy it is. I know I can’t.

Respect All Life, Silly Cowpokes!

Clearly, in the bygone days of the Old West, many of these exercises were of a way of life for cowpokes on the ranch. These competitions weren’t just games, they were a necessary part of making a living. Seeing amateur rodeo gave me a tiny glimpse into that world, and for that reason I was glad I went.

I didn’t see any evidence of livestock mistreatment, but apparently PETA has lots of footage of rodeo animal abuse, and it’s rampant in big money competitions.

Still, so much of what I saw billed as “competition” was just mean, violent and unfair to the animals. I can only hope that in a world where many of us recognize the value in making cats and dogs part of our families, more people will adopt these same compassionate attitudes toward all creatures great and small, not just the ones we consider “pets.”

Judging by the few spectators at the Sweetwater rodeo, this might actually be happening. One can always hope, anyways.

Boozing, gambling, war, trucking and three legged dogs. Does pleasure reading get any better than this?

When I first heard about how author Richard Ide logged over a million miles as a long haul trucker while perfecting the fine art of writing, I knew I had to read his book, “3 Aces,” which resulted from those travels.

I guessed that anyone who’s led the life of a trucker, dealt cards in Atlantic City and sold stocks on Wall Street, must have a good story to share. And I was right. Don’t let the vague title or cover art fool you: like a cold Shiner on a hot summer day, 3 Aces is good for the soul.

3 Aces is a road trip story based on the life of Abner, a struggling, lonely trucker suffering from Vietnam-era post traumatic stress disorder, who meets Dawn, a younger, divorced alcoholic leading a dead end life while a young daughter waits back at home. When Dawn and Abner team up as long haul truckers and a three legged dog named Pip hops along for the ride, a captivating story unfolds as they travel the highways and byways of America.

Much like a classic country love song, 3 Aces doesn’t pose as highbrow literature. But like a big haired waitress in a Texas diner, 3 Aces serves up a hearty plate of love, politics, forgiveness, redemption and adventure. There’s a side of politics too, as Ide educates readers about global trade and the economic impact it has on the grueling life of truckers who keep the shelves stocked at your nearest Mega-Lo Mart.

Ide’s story is an easy read, and is escapism at it’s finest. He manages to keep a complex story line going with multi-dimensional characters that never run out of gas. He has a knack for character development and conversation details, and describing the highway scenes of America in such vivid detail you’d swear you traveled down that same road. You’ll especially love how he weaves the colorful language of truckers into the story, sharing colloquialisms like “chicken coop” and “plain blue wrappers” with the uneducated public.

3 Aces is a great road tripping book, and it breaks my heart that few people know about it. That’s because of the fearful state of the publishing industry, which wouldn’t give Ide a deal for his story. So Ide went the self publishing route with 3 Aces. The problem with self publishing however, is that unless you’re a marketing guru and can get the story into the public, it’s very difficult to sell copies. Ide has made every effort to get 3 Aces out there, and can still use all he help he can get in moving it.

So please, buy a copy and read 3 Aces and help get a classic tale into the hands of the masses.

When you RV, you always learn something new. Whether it’s about how to avoid dropping weird stuff down the toilet,  or learning new boondocking tips, you’re always growing.

When we met Kelly and Al last winter in New Mexico, I couldn’t believe we had been on the road almost two years and didn’t know about the Escapees Day’s End Directory. We were on our way to Texas to join Escapees because we knew about all of their perks, but we didn’t know about this one until Al and Kelly (aka The Bayfield Bunch) told us about it.

The Day’s End Directory is a comprehensive collection of practically every low cost and free boondocking spot in North America, compiled by the folks who know best, Escapees members. For just $5, you can join this private Escapees group, the Day’s End Yahoo Group, and gain access to the directory. It has literally thousands of locations of free and cheap campsites, and members update the information regularly.

The only downside to the Day’s End Directory is that it’s created in oldschool format. The book is available as a CD or .rtf file only, and you need to rifle through about 500 pages to find locations by state and city. It’s laborious and time consuming, and cost-prohibitive to print. To get around that, I created a PDF of the Western states we are visiting this year, and sent the file to Kinkos for printing. It cost me $12 to print CA, AZ, NM and TX.

I hope some day the Escapees powers that be will pay a young geek to  take over the project and convert the listings to some kind of searchable database like our friend’s Jenn and Johnny’s FreeCampsites.net.

But until then, this behemoth book is still the best money you’ll spend if you like to get out into the wild, or just need an approved, safe place to crash for the night.

Remember that freaky cherimoya fruit I told you about? We finally got the courage to try this local delicacy.

The cherimoya is as mean and nasty looking as a gila monster, but slice it open and it’s soft flesh tastes somewhere between a pear and a papaya.

The sweetness of this fruit would probably go good with a gewurztraminer wine, but don’t get liquored up or you could break a tooth on the rock hard seeds.

With all of the crazy imported fruit from overseas, it amazes me that something this good that’s grown in our own backyard isn’t made more available.

Why would anyone want mediocre kiwi from New Zealand when we could have a cherimoya, or a fuerte avocado grown right here in the states?

Before we left Borrego Springs we played tourist and checked out these amazing roadside sculptures by artist Ricardo Breceda.

The pics don’t do them justice, and it’s hard to get an idea of the scale of these enormous creatures. They’re set up along the outskirts of Anza Borrego State Park, and you can just meander your way down the roads to check them out.

The detail of the scrap metal creatures is amazing. How does this guy find the time?

If you look way in the background of one of these pics, you can see how small our big truck looks next to them.

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?

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!

Back when Lilla and Neal visited us at Jerry’s Acres, Neal suggested that we were in for a winter of heavy snow. His reasoning was based on a news story he had seen about the local Skunk Cactus — or at least he thinks that’s what the newscaster called this weed, and I think that’s what he called it.

Neal mentioned how the height at which the seed pods begin is an indication of that season’s snowfall depth. Based on a recent weather report from home, sent to us by Codie Rae’s people, I’m starting to believe him…

Red Feather Lakes: Snow and areas of blowing snow before midnight, then snow likely and areas of blowing snow after midnight. Low around 14. Wind chill values as low as -5. North northwest wind between 14 and 16 mph, with gusts as high as 25 mph. Chance of precipitation is 90%. Total nighttime snow accumulation of 5 to 9 inches possible.

Needless to say, I believe we left just in time. Based on the reports we’re getting from back home, we would have likely been stuck there quite a while – if not all winter – had we not pulled away when we did. That, or we would have been digging out the trailer to hit the road.

But we haven’t exactly headed to warmer climes, yet. Our second night here in Fernley, our hose froze. We had forgotten to leave a faucet dripping overnight. Keeping the water moving through the hose will help it from freezing solid and ensure you have running water in the morning. Insulating the hose with foam pipe-wrap available in the plumbing section of any home supply store also helps. As does having water in your fresh water tank as a backup.

How quickly we forget these things after staying put for a few months. I remember first seeing an RVer fuss with a frozen hose at a riverside park in Ashville, NC two years ago and laughing. The other morning it was my turn. After struggling to thaw things out enough to get our water flowing, we have now practiced these precautionary measures I preach. Good thing René hadn’t yet begun her early morning shifts at the Amazon warehouse!

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.

David Jerome is the exception, in his road trip adventure tale, Roastbeef’s Promise: When Your Dad’s Dying Wish Is to Have His Ashes Sprinkled in Each State, What’s a Son to Do?

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.

For information about Jerome, check out Facebook/roastbeefspromise.com

It was always apparent that we didn’t get rid of enough stuff when we left Eureka in June 2007. Our $250 a month storage bill said it all.

When we hit the road, we hired a moving company to store our stuff, thinking that someday we would be willing to pay to ship it to us, wherever we landed. But until the moving company actually put it all in their warehouse, we had no idea how much our storage bill would be. By the time we learned what the damage was, it was too late.

The Horrors of Excess

While in storage, our stuff took up five crates at 4′ x 7′ x 7, for a grand total of 980 cubic feet. Once we closed escrow on our house and saw what our finances looked like, that there was no way we were going to shell out the $5k the moving company wanted to deliver our stuff, so we opted to go get it ourselves.

The only problem was that I never actually saw how much space our junk took up, until we landed in Eureka for just one stealth night in August. When we arrived at the moving company’s warehouse with our 26′ moving truck, our jaws dropped.

A massive amount of boxes were stacked  and waiting. At first, the two movers we hired to help load weren’t even sure if it would all fit. As they started loading, I began making piles of stuff that we would ditch if it didn’t.

I wanted to cry. All this time I thought that we had really downsized. Who was I kidding?! The excessive boxes of clothes, kitchen stuff, and knicknacks, was unreal. I kicked myself up and down the parking lot, cursing at our naivety in thinking we had gotten rid of all but our essentials.

Eventually, the movers made it all fit. We left Eureka in less than 24 hours, and lugged it back to Colorado.

Note to Self: Lesson Learned

Two years ago, I thought we were keeping only the essentials. But I’m not the same person I was then. The road has taught me that I don’t need much to have an enjoyable life. I don’t need eight pairs of jeans, or three different sets of dinner plates to feel complete.

Sure, it’s nice to have some of my favorite things back under our roof, like my card making stuff and my bread machine. But when it comes down to it, I’ll take the incredible journeys we’ve had over all of our material possessions any day.