“They paved paradise, put up a parking lot.”
~ Joni
Soundtrack for a Sunday morning:
Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell from Shine
Last Sunday was a rough day for me. I always find setting up a new computer to be very stress-inducing. New keyboard, new (upgraded) operating system, all my old programs changed slightly. I’d be typing away and realize my fingers were on the wrong keys of an unfamiliar keyboard. Add to that, my internet connection was slow and sometimes non-existent. So when I was downloading a program or doing anything online, I’d think my new laptop was not working properly only to discover I was no longer connected to the internet. Very frustrating.
Of course, in the end, my friend Richard (always the voice of calm and reason and a stabilizing force in my life) came to the rescue, talked me through everything and put all things electronic in my life back in place.
Some of you received last week’s missive in a new and very strange font (Cursive). I did not send it out in that font. Between my computer and yours, somewhere in the ethers, it mutated. With a lot of trial and error and lots of trouble shooting, I discovered it appeared different on Mac, iPhone, Android, and PC. Richard thinks it was due to my new (online version) of Outlook. He sent me a link, and I joined his “family plan” for MS Office. Free, and it actually exists on my computer instead of the online version. That should fix the issue, but if you are reading this (or trying to read this) in some strange, scripty font, can you let me know and tell me what device/operating system you are reading it on. (If by chance the font has changed to Klingon and you read this far, please call me right away.)
Besides the tech issues, Sunday was extremely windy, blowing between 20 and 30 mph, and gusts up to 40 according to The Weather Channel. The van rocked and although my windows were just barely cracked, everything in my van got covered with a thin layer of dark dust. When the winds seemed to have subsided, I decided to take my newly installed floor panels (the rubber foam, puzzle piece flooring) outside to wash them off. Big mistake. I got them hosed off just as the wind picked up and several of them blew onto the dusty ground. They were covered in black mud and the ones that didn’t reach the ground were coated in dark dirt. I finally got them cleaned and back in the van. Then Cosmo came in and covered them with his paw prints. I got down on my hands and knees and washed them with a wet towel. I just wanted to scream. I made the decision to move to Two Guns this week, sooner rather than later. It was going to be windy there. And hot. But the soil is sandy and even in strong wind it is not dusty. And my recollection is that they have fair cell service. We’ll see.
Monday, I woke up in a good mood. I stayed in bed and had a second cup of coffee and listened to podcasts. I had internet, so I was a happy camper. Afterwards, Cosmo and I went for a walk. A few of the weekenders had left. The wind was minimal. I decided to start packing up so I could move on Tuesday morning. Later in the day, I was having second thoughts. The forest is beautiful, cool and feels very isolated from the Empire. I tried to log onto my laptop to check the weather in Two Guns and had no connection. The decision was made. Time to move on.
### ### ###
I got up Tuesday morning having had a solid night’s sleep. After coffee and a few podcasts, I laid in bed snuggling Cosmo. He rolled on his back so I could rub his belly (and I did because it’s one of my favorite things to do), until I heard him snoring gently. My OCD had me enumerating the things that had to be done in order to move to Two Guns. I smiled gently to myself. I was still enumerating, but my OCD has morphed over the last several years. In the past, I wouldn’t just think “I have to pack up the solar suitcases,” I would break that down into every minute step involved, for each one…”Go outside. Unplug it from the van, roll up the cord and tuck it away. Then fold the panels, then put them in the case. Load it into the van. Secure it, etc.” I’d do this for every chore, making the process seem overwhelming. There was always an underlying urgency. It stems from my childhood and my father never allowing us to be late for anything. Somewhere along the way, I realized that the word “late” no longer has any meaning in my world. Late for what, exactly? I always get things done. I always arrive where I want to be. The obsessing and rushing are meaningless exercises, so I’ve stopped them.
I took my time, packed up solar lights and solar panels and tucked them securely in the van. I made breakfast and then packed up garbage and trash into one big bag. There is a campground on the other side of Lake Mary Road, about a mile from where I was camped. They have a pay shower–$7 for 9 minutes. I drove down and put a ten-dollar bill in the change machine and soon I was standing in a clean, indoor shower, letting the hot water pour over me. I washed my hair and beard quickly and put conditioner in. I scrubbed my feet and watched the black water swirl around the drain before disappearing. (Remember the shower scene from Psycho? The blood circling the drain?) I washed my body and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and still had minutes left to just stand and relish the abundant hot water pouring over me before my quarters ran out. Bliss!
I drove down the road and dumped my trash and then drove to Two Guns. As I came down off the mountain in Flagstaff, I could see the change from forest to prairie (?) I’m not sure what to call it. Maybe high desert? Chaparral? Whatever it is, it was beautiful driving down into it. I put on my favorite playlist and sang along with Cat Stevens as I drove the final few miles to Two Guns.
My heart sank as I took exit 230. When I left last year, they had moved in some dump trucks and equipment behind the old, graffitied gas station off Route 66. The rumor was they were going to use it as a base for doing road repairs on the I-40 between Two Guns and Winslow. It was ugly but very contained. When I arrived on Tuesday, it was far from contained.
Same spot before the road crew invaded:
I looked up the hill to the falling-down turret where I normally stay. It was clear, and I drove up the last bumpy mile and set up camp. I parked so that the old buildings/monuments blocked my view of the ugliness that was humanity encroaching on this sacred space.
I got out and a peacefulness washed over me. Two guns is the site of the Apache Death Cave, and a famous gunfight in the street of what is now Route 66. It is a spot of lots of death. And yet to me there is such a positive energy about staying in this spot. And yet, I always feel safe and I always am happy here.
It was windy that afternoon.
Cosmo and I mostly stayed inside, windows cracked and the breeze keeping us cool. The van rocked at times, and Cosmo crawled under my legs for protection, but the soil was sandy and rocky, and we didn’t have to deal with blowing, black dust.
Lessons From The Road: I was reminded this week that life is about choices. Often, I can have anything I want; I just can’t have everything I want. The forest was beautiful and cool and I felt far from the empire. It was peaceful. But the wind was severe, the blowing, black dust oppressive, and the intermittent cell/internet signal was making setting up my new laptop much more of a chore than it needed to be. Two Guns is beautiful in a different way. It was very hot, but I had good cell service. Each spot I stay comes with pros and cons. I need to weigh all the factors and choose which one serves me best at this moment in time.
From my vantage point up the hill in Two Guns, I can see I-40 about a mile away. I doubt anyone driving by ever notices my van up on the hill. I know from experience that the vast majority of people traveling I-40 don’t even know about Two Guns, even though they pass it often. It’s pretty invisible (and so am I) unless you are looking for it. It was a nice week.