Off Grid Adventures

Camp 200 Wagner

Huck in Siskiyou National Forest

There is a difference between being alone to enjoy your privacy and being isolated. I’d been parked in the Rogue-Siskiyou National Forest for over a week without internet, power, water, and humans. On the sixth day, a friend pulled up to Huck the RV to see how I was fairing. It takes a special person to drive all the way out here to be sure I’m doing well. She then gave me a ride into town to see about getting my generator fixed and to pick up my car.

It was 2 days too late to save the perishable groceries but just in time to get my Kindle charged! Reading material first! Food is secondary! With nothing to read, I was going batty. I’ve re-read both 2010 copies of Cowboy and Indians, for the fourth time and anything else that had text.

Got the generator running right and I was returning to Huck the RV when I stumbled into an adventure I hadn’t planned. On one of the many blind curves on the logging road leading to my camp, a young man had lost control of his car and gone nose first into the ditch. I was the first to arrive and stopped to see what I could do to help. After many feeble attempts at getting the car back where it belonged and some discussion, I decided to return to an area where placing a call was possible. I instructed him to walk to the head of the s-curve to warn approaching traffic. My main concern was the blind curve and the logging trucks that would be on their final run of the day.

In the meantime, I was so concerned about the potential of a bigger development, I turned a corner too fast and my generator fell over spewing gas into the trunk of my car. So much for getting my Kindle charged! A day and a half later, and my generator is still flooded.

Seems I lack the magic of generator cooperation.

Anyway, back to the car predictment. I retraced my trail until I could see I had cell coverage and placed his call for help. Then, back I went. Upon arriving at his car, he was no where to be found. He had left the car sitting right where it landed with nothing to warn the oncoming travelers. So, I forged ahead, stopping any traffic to tell them of the problem at mile 5 1/2. I could only pray the rest of the travelers drive as slow as I do on that road and was relieved to learn the logging was done for the day.

Back at camp, not to be outdone by the bad luck gremlins, I pulled out a drawing I’ve been meaning to finish. Ah ha! Something to do to maintain my sanity. Maybe tomorrow the generator will be dry enough to get back to work.

Before boredom forced me to return to my art, I had decided to look for the perfect location to build my solar shower room. I tripped happily through the woods looking for a tree with just the right angle and strength to hold the shower and bungie

Bear Markings

Signs of Bear!

corded tarps. I spotted it! But, (there’s always a but) when I stepped closer, I realized the markings on the side of the tree were from a bear and they weren’t very old. Now that will wake up anyone to reality. I made an immediate executive decision, I will do my showering IN Huck the RV.

After being on the mountain for a couple of days, I decided to relocate Huck closer to water. It takes me about forty-five minutes to walk to the spring and return with a full tub. However, after seeing the bear markings, I believe I’ll be taking my car to the spring from now on.

Water Wagon

Water Wagon

It will be another week before I have to go to town. By then I hope to have a plan on where I’m going next. North to Alaska? Or south to Nevada or Arizona? Winter is fast approaching and Huck needs new windows before the cold sets in.

Whose idea was this insanity anyway????  Well, Huckleberry Friends, as soon as I know where I’m going, you will be the first to know.

Until then, Happy trails.

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Leaving Olympus

Upon my return to the woods, I found my new camp mate was still maintaining the homeland. Yes! The Universe has sent me a compadre, knowing I’m probably not quite ready to go solo. Then a second blessing, a dear friend decided to go camping and ended up going us. Three women headed to the woods to camp alone and ended up together. What are the odds?

We’ve been here about three days now and we have created the most amazing sheepherder like campsite. We have a shower, latrine, kitchen complete with spice rack, water purifier, a guest room, three bedrooms, and three hammocks. Pretty darn cool, if I do say so myself.

The daily regime begins with my gassing up the generator, packing it through camp and pulling the ripcord until it buzzes into action, keeping the meat cooler busy.  I then start the coffee, if it hasn’t already been started by one of the others. Without conversation each of us has fallen into a waltz of sorts. One will begin breakfast, another will fill the water purifier, another will gather wood and start the morning fire.

Each day brings an addition to the domesticity of our little world now named, Olympus. The journey from Cubby Hole to Olympus has been amazing.

Camp Olympus July 2017

Camp Olympus

Neighboring camp mates wander in to visit during the early evening. A fire is lit and beverages served. Depending on the outcome of the daily activities, dinner may be still in progress. Whatever the status, life is slow and simple. Strangers enter Olympus, become kindred spirits, and leave as friends.

The fire pit has been remodeled from the usual circle of rocks by incorporating two side alcoves that will hold the hot cinders and allow for a grill to be placed above, thereby eliminating the necessity for cooking over the fire and allow for better heat control. The cold ashes are dug up and redeposited at the latrine for future use. We have become quite the forest dwellers. First rule is to keep the place clean and leave it cleaner that we found it.

I am constantly overwhelmed and humbled with the reality I am now living. Even my writing is getting better and my sense of humor is returning. With only two weeks in the woods, I can only imagine the changes in store for me as the weeks turn into months.

Our mountain community is in constant flux. New members will be added and others will exit. Sometimes the Sheriff is the cause of the latest change, which happens fast. There is a 14 day limit and it is adhered to, bringing on rounds of sad goodbyes.

Olympus has now met the deadline, all the sniveling we could muster didn’t stop time and we had to break camp. Each of us went our own way with plans to meet up again in a week or so. I had no pending time table so I was the last out of camp. Once I had my life re-inserted into the Honda, I expected to be melancholy but that didn’t happen. Instead, I left smiling, knowing I had just experienced the first adventure of many, many more to come.

Now I’m off to find a truck, the sweet little Honda is being overworked and needs a good cleaning. Fingers crossed, when we come together again, I’ll have the first step toward my mobile cabin completed.

I’ll let you know the second I find my truck! Until then, my Huckleberry Friends, keep a happy trail.

Oh The Choices We Make

 

Let me first stipulate that I have choices other than to be homeless. Even knowing that, it is very difficult. In no way do I want to simplify the experiences the homeless endure every waking moment. Having said that, I tend to forget that bit of reality at times when I’ve been “in the woods or one the road” without human companionship for too long.

When I first decided to hit the road to gather stories of survival, my anthropological self knew I couldn’t simply come into various lives then leave. To confiscate their painful reality in quick glimpses and present them as truth does everyone a disservice. Every story has degrees of beginning, middle, and end, until the very end. I would be nothing more than yet another thief if I approached this effort from an ivory tower, untouchable, making them “other” while keeping a safe distance. That would be the final insult.

Limited income presented me with two choices, pay rent and survive or, live on the road and create film. Well, Huckleberry Ramblings came from those choices and as you know, I chose the road.

One of the first stories took place yesterday morning when I had coffee with a wonderful woman who had been homeless. Her honesty was humbling, to say the least. Sharing pulls pain from deep within and forces the teller to relive those dark memories. For an outsider, such as myself, it weighs heavy on your heart when there is nothing more to be done but to bear witness and give them a voice that will be heard.

Today I’m in my favorite go-to campsite I’ve named, The Cubby-hole. It’s deep in the Oregon forest and very isolated. I ended up here after driving 250 miles looking for a spot only to find everything full. (Note to self: Make better plans for holiday weekends! ) Lucky for me, I have the Cubby-hole to fall back on. However, as I was searching, I passed two different people pushing shopping carts with all their belongings along a very hot sidewalk. As always, I hoped the Universe would grant them some relief and I moved on. As the day wore on and I still had no place to land, I couldn’t help but compare my search to those pushing shopping-carts around all day looking for a place to land, hoping they had the luxury of their own, Cubby-hole.

As usual, I forgot to turn off my headlights when I parked at Cubby-hole. That put me in the middle of nowhere with a dead battery and no way out. Well, not really, while in Nevada an angel was sent to insure my safety. Without a word to me, he purchased a Yahama 1000 generator for my travels, to that he added car battery charger cables. (As though he knew me or something.) I naturally had the hood of my car up and was checking the cables when a black car with tinted windows pulled in to my camp, as though it belonged there. I stepped forward to see if I could be of help. You can imagine my amazement when another angel, a very tanned beauty, stepped out to see if I needed help. She had seen the hood up. Another single woman on her own adventure. That kind of stuff doesn’t just happen. After five hours and a tank of gas, about .5 gal, my car started just like a champ! Thank you Universe, I know you’re thinking of me.

Until next time, Happy Trails my Huckleberry Friends.

 

Indecision Is My Worst Enemy

Indecision is my worst enemy, without a doubt! Whenever I’m upset it is always over a decision I have to make. Finance always plays the antagonist that never seems to rest while the heart pushes me onward with constant acceleration.

I loaded the last bit of insanity into the storage shed and I’ve hit the road! Still no skoolie but I’m not letting that put a damper on things I’ve got some people to meet and some work to get done.

North Shore camp #1First destination ws the Lassen National Forest and for the first time I stopped and got to know the area a bit. The norm is to drive straight through to Nevada, barely noticing the terrain. This time I drove into the town of McCloud. I was amazed at what I’ve been driving past for so many years. I will definitely be spending more time there in the future.

Next stop is to find the campsite and pitch my tent. First lesson: when you have no navigator, make a better map! I never did find my destination but, traveling down the road I spotted a campground sign and took the turn. I drove for a couple of miles into the wilderness then turned at the North Shore Camp on Lake Britton. Arriving at the information board, I learned I simply had to fill out the registration card, write a check, pick my spot, and drop it in the box. Sweet!

The adventure got even sweeter when the camp host introduced himself and advised me as to the better camp spots. Dennis and his wife, Gwen, were great hosts.

It is amazing how traveling alone will change your perspective. With no deadlines or expectancies, life gets much easier. It was because of the hosts, I decided to stay a second night. Without a doubt, I will stay there again.

Second lesson: pay attention to where the sun is. My very first morning of unbridled freedom, I decided to kickback, drink my coffee and read. Heaven right? Not necessarily. After an hour or so, I realized, all too late, my feet were in the direct sun. Well, there went the shoes for the next three days.

The next two weeks were spent at a dear friends house in Fallon, Nevada. I know what you’re thinking, “Two weeks!” Then theres a partial quote about when guests need to leave after three days. Well, in my defense, that was my plan. However, when you have such wonderful hosts that tell you you’re staying, you bend the rules.

So now I get to the part about indecision. I’ve returned to Ashland and I’m housesitting through July. So it is decision time. Do I head north for the winter or south? The Universe hasn’t seen fit to accommodate my request for ample funds so, I won’t have my bus anytime soon. Heading south would appear to be the warmest decision. Either way, I have to find better accommodations than my pup tent. Hey Universe! Are you listening??

While the cosmic financal problems gets tossed around, I’ll have to tell you about the hitchhiker I acquired somewhere along the way. I’m sure it’s a he because a she would never have eaten my favorite pair of black heels!! SHE would have known that is an instant death sentence!

I began to suspect I wasn’t alone when I cleaned out the trunk to reorganize the camping gear and found a roll of paper towels had been chewed on. A soap filled roll of paper towels, mind you. Then I found the nest in the back of the trunk. I cleaned like a crazy woman and found no further trace so decided he was gone. That night I slept in the car because my survival instincts said sleeping in a pup tent in cougar country wouldn’t be the brightest idea I’ve had.

Once I landed in Ashland, it was time to reconnoiter the over supply of dishes. So, out came everything. That’s when I found my shoes. Yes, the war is on! Sure enough, the uninvited guest was still in the car. As of this moment, I have the second baited mouse trap sitting in my back seat. (See item 2) I don’t like killing anything but this has to end. I’ve done everything possible to leave an exit for the critter and he has chosen to say, “No thanks. The goodies here are juuuust right.” We will see about that!

All I can say right now is that the night I slept in the car would have had a different outcome if I had discovered the wildlife was IN the car!

I’ll let you know who won the battle next time. Right now I have a trap to check.

Looking Around the BendUntil then, Here’s looking around the bend, Happy Trails my Huckleberry Friend.

Ode To The Hand Cart

We have finally reached the end of THE move. THE final move. THE horrific move. THE killer move. As I’ve said before, minimizing your life isn’t for sissies, especially when you try to do it all at once! Lesson learned, plan ahead and take small bites as to protect your sanity and your life!

Yes, I know, it does sound a bit dramatic, let me assure you it was and still is. Healing takes its own time, I’ve found no way to rush that part of the process.

Guess I should explain my present frame of mind by starting at the first meeting of the murderous hand cart.

I had parked the moving truck at the gate and was climbing out when an angel, cleverly disguised as a neighbor, crossed the street to see if I wanted his help. Believe me, moving makes us all humble, so of course I took him up on his offer. Immediately he turned to retrieve his hand cart, his very durable red hand cart.

Soon it was late afternoon and the truck was impeccably loaded when my helper finally called it a day. As a considerate thought he left the hand cart with me, trusting me to know how to handle it. I had no doubts as to my own expertise. However, he didn’t warn me about the curse!

YES! That is what I said, the durable red hand cart is cursed. I have sore or maybe even slightly fractured ribs to prove it. Now I’ve always prided myself in my ingenuity and capability to get a job done. After all, it takes just a bit of leverage and the job is made much easier. Leverage, that’s the secret. So…….

I woke the next morning with a solution for loading an extremely heavy object into the pick up bed. I would simply wheel the load to the tailgate, lean the hand cart on the tail gate and slide the load up to gate level then shove it onto the bed. Brilliant! I started pushing and shoving the load up the “ramp.” …….Once I landed, a good foot or more away, all I could do was stay on the ground holding my head and trying to decide whether or not I would live, or if I even want to. Once I worked up enough courage to examine my hand it was indeed covered with blood. Lots of blood. It took me about ten minutes to navigate the mental haze to realize my mistake. I had left something out of the equation.

I have always been strong for my size, so it didn’t occur to me that the load was too heavy for me to even push up the ramp. At some point the load slid back down the ramp dropped onto the foot of the hand cart which in turn launched the top of the cart to fly forward and connect with my head. My eyes instantly rolled back as I worked very hard to control the law of physics and lost.

Thank heavens my ER nurse landlady was en route so I continued working figuring if it was serious she would send me to the ER. Upon her arrival, we both ruled I would live without the hospital visit. So, the work continued.

Now I wish I could tell you I became cautious of the durable red hand cart after that misadventure, but…

The next day I had another very large heavy load. BUT, I had a helper! No problem! We were diligent at getting the right tipping angle as down the driveway we went. Or at least that is what I saw in my mind just before that murderous apparatus struck again. Just as I pushed the cart into action it appeared to me the load was descending and would have landed on my helper. So, I released my hold and reached for the load as to stop the downward motion. Upon doing that, the cart hooked under my ribs and lifted me off the ground. Then in mental slow motion, I was launched once again. I’m still not sure how high into the universe I ascended, but by mustering all my skill, this time I managed to land on my feet. Who said all those dancing years wouldn’t pay off? Ha!

So today, a week later, I’m mending. Ribs still hurt when I laugh but the exodus has come to an end and I will survive! Let my story be a warning to all who venture into a new lifestyle. Plan ahead and take baby steps!

What will happen next? What does the all-knowing Universe have ready for me? I have a couple more weeks of recuperation to face those questions then I’ll be off and running again.

Until next time dear Huckleberry Friend, hold good thoughts and I’ll be wishing you happy trails.

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What Was The Universe Thinking?

As promised this journey will contain ups as well as downs. I may have reached my first down.

Moving is stressful, that we all know, and it’s expensive. As a somewhat retired soul, I survive on a set income. No pity party, millions do and it’s not easy. However, I’ve accepted the facts and I’m dealing with them.

So please tell me what the Universe was thinking in giving my poor little Harley pneumonia and some horrible bacterial intestinal infection? Poor guy looks at me as though he just wants to die. So off to the vets we go. Concerned is putting it mildly, especially on the second visit when the doctor says, “Well, he made it through the night, that’s a good sign.” OKAY, stress level blew up the richter scale!

Yesterday was the umpteenth trip to the vets, a wonderful vet, by the way. Poor trouper, has to be hand fed every hour. So much for the vacancy deadline. No sleep and not enough packing will soon land the both of us in intensive care and bankruptcy.

I just have to get through the month, everything will be free sailing then. Riiiiight.

Today EVERYTHING will be gone, either to recycling, charity, or storage. What a feeling! Never again will I have to go through the burden of moving all that crap again. I know the idea sounds a bit daunting and possibly terrifying. After all, you have collected all that stuff for many years and it all holds memories. However, the relief of owning less is invigorating. I’m actually having fun releasing and sending all that off. Trust me, begin with small removals and watch it grow. You can thank me later.

Just imagine for a moment, sitting on a beach or a mountain top knowing you don’t have to be home by 10 to take care of the house or yard. You can stay there as long as you want and when you’re ready, simply pick up and move to a new location with another great view. That has to be good for the soul, what could be better? I’ll let you know, asap.

Somewhere in the juggling event of the century, known as my life, I’ve been looking for my ultimate bus and collecting designer ideas for the interior. Several have passed through, with no luck. Thank you Universe! So, looks like the great northwest campgrounds will be my new location until I find my one and only.

The ups and downs of Huckleberry Ramblings will continue, hopefully with more of the ups than the downs. Once this move is history, the fun will begin. Keep the faith.

Right now it is feeding time for the critter.

Until next time, Harley and I bid you happy trails.

 

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I’ve Become a Circus Act!

Juggling! That’s what I’m doing, juggling. It’s amazing how many things a person can keep in the air at one time. Along with the downsizing, sorting, packing, living, breathing, dog feeding, menu planning, I’ve added…………….. CDL School.

BRILLIANT!!  I didn’t have enough to keep me busy.

Let me explain my rational. I’ve been shopping for a school bus, right? Being the research addict I am, I decided I better learn how to drive a school bus.  (Seems logical) So, I figured if that is what I’m going to do, I need to go to the best source. School Bus School!  I’ve just wrapped up my classes and next week I will be going through the study and test taking the DMV insists on. I don’t need a CDL as long as my bus isn’t used commercially. However, I’m thinking once I have my license, I can work anywhere as long as I meet the state’s qualifications. A gal never knows when that added paycheck could come in handy, right?

Now, let me tell you something about driving a school bus professionally. As a parent or grandparent, you need to immediately go to the bus stop with your tyke and hug that driver! Tell them how much they are appreciated! I’ve been scared I would get a job a few times in my life, but this one just may be the most terrifying of them all.

The responsibility those drivers deal with every day then return to do it again, makes them saints in my book. They are trained to go above and beyond human abilities to keep our children safe. I could go on for hours on the training, just suffice to say, they are an under appreciated professional group of amazing people. Will I get to join them? That remains to be seen. You will be the first to know the outcome.

I may have found my bus, although it is much bigger than I planned. Do I really want to drive a 40 foot bus across the nation? Do I want to go through the months of work it takes to convert a bus that size? My head hurts from all the information I’ve gathered and I’m still no closer to making that decision. HELP! Just google school bus conversions on YouTube and you will get a look at what I mean. My favorite video master so far is Steampunk Steve and his Old Thyme Skoolie series. If your inclined, check it out, he’s awesome. Then you can join me while doing your own conversion. Now that’s a plan!

Well, the move is about to come to a close and the next part of the adventure will begin. On May 8th, to be exact. I’ll be hitting the road, destination unknown at this time. If I haven’t found my bus and a parking location by then, I’m going to be camping in a few on our northwest campsites. That will give me the opportunity to give some insights as to which sites are welcoming to skoolies and which aren’t. All of which I will be posting and filming.

Not to worry, I won’t be posting my location at the time I’m there. Safety and security are always a first consideration. So, until next time, my Huckleberry Friends, stay tuned, you never know what I’m going to do next because I don’t even know that answer. Be sure to follow my Huckleberry Rambler page on Facebook because I will begin live streaming once I’m on the road.

Happy Trails

The Quest Goes On, The Quest Goes On…

Downsizing is an overwhelming job! I’m just grateful I haven’t lived in one place for 30 or 40 years. Man! What a job. However, yesterday I was blessed with volunteer help and great company. After all it isn’t often the help takes you to lunch and forces you to drink great beer!

The best helper for an artist is another artist. (Devilish grin here) I’ve done my duty, passing on many treasures to a new and deserving home. Now to figure out what to do with all my student artwork. Throw away, or keep it hidden until I’m dead and drive up the price? Yeah, there’s a plan. Too any decisions for my over addled brain today.

Well, I finally bit the bullet and gave my vacating notice only to learn, my lovely landlady was in the midst of putting the property on the market. So, I would have had to move anyway. Isn’t the Universe an amazing thing? Several weeks ago I mentioned to a friend that I felt I was being told it’s time to go, and indeed I was.  (Deep philosophical pause.)

Go where tho? It’s amazing how many possibilities are presenting themselves to someone that doesn’t have to worry about rent or a mortgage. So far my greatest realization is, Wine Across America! How about that! Or, I could set up Craft America and teach craft projects at retirement locations. You see what I’m getting at here? There’s no end to ideas.

Of course,  film is my top project. I’m looking forward to continuing a documentary about women ranchers, Cowgirl Up, to share the stories of how they are mavericks living outside the box of socially constructed femininity. Also, starting up Huckleberry Ramblings: the Film, is pretty exciting. I’m already lining up stories from single mothers that can’t afford to live a conventional lifestyle and have taken to the road to survive. More stories will come from our wonderful seniors who can no longer afford to keep their homes, or have already lost them.

There’s so much happening out there in the “real world” being overlooked while we struggle to hang on to our own lifestyle, lest we fail. Maybe the more correct name for my project should be, Grapes of Wrath 2017.

I’m still not sure where this journey is going to take me, I’ve decided to let the Universe present options. So far, so good. Like today, for example, I’m off to look at my first bus conversion for Huckleberry Ramblings production bus. Fingers crossed it will be exactly what I’ve been looking for.

That’s probably all the ramblings you have time for, so….

Until we meet again, my Huckleberry Friends, Happy Trails….

Oh The Pain Of It All

I consulted Merriam to gather information about the word, “downsizing.” I was given the response, “to reduce in size; especially: to design or produce a smaller size.” Simple, right? HA! Easier said than done.

If I were a lesser woman, you would find me curled up in a not so small ball rocking back and forth over the quickly approaching deadline of conquering the “downsizing” ordeal. However, to show my fortitude and perseverance, I marched myself up the spiral staircase and tackled the upstairs. The over stuffed closet yielded two large bags of clothes destined for a charitable organization and two small boxes that will go into the pile marked, “I will want those again, someday.” Well, maybe I’m not as good at this as I need to be. I did manage to donate 2 picture frames to the garage sale seed pile. (Insert proud moment here)

I have a new friend that teaches minimalism. Do I dare contact her, or will photographs of the process send her into a tiny rocking ball as well? Maybe I should just let her contact me, that way I won’t be responsible for her lack of oxygen and resulting dismay.

When I first moved to Oregon, I had three suitcases with clothing for the girls and only one small case containing my entire wardrobe. We were good with that. So tell me dear Huckleberry friend, why would a person take on the burden of accumulation? I can’t help but wonder, when we make the decision to bring that new “must have” item into our world, if we were to take into consideration that it will only be redistributed at some point in our lives, would be then return it to the shelf and walkaway satisfied with the decision?

Meanwhile, back to the upstairs and the vacating. Once that is done, I will move on to the garage. Oh hold on there! Now we’re talking pain! Copious amounts of pain! That is where I rathole all my art “stuff.” If you will remember the last post’s reference to artists as gatherers. Well, I’m among the champions! Wherever I go, my art supplies go. The garage, or as I say, “Out there” holds not only art supplies, but many years worth of costume creation and collection. Those won’t go on the bus, otherwise there definitely would be no room for Harley. They have to go somewhere tho. This is where I want to give in and practice my rocking ball imitation or just shove everything into a storage shed.

Solutions! I need solutions!

While I allow for time to work that out, I want to address an issue some of you have shared with me. No, I’m not driving off into the sunset by myself with no back up.

I have spent that last few years collecting data on living simple. I’ve gone from building a tiny home on wheels to a bus conversion. The bus seems more equitable by saving me from having to purchase the ginormous rig needed to pull the tiny home. My thinking is that if I’m drowning under truck and tiny house payments, I’m better off in a stick built structure I now call home. So, the bus is a better choice and, it is build to last.

Now the second part of your question, No, I won’t be alone. I have a fabulous network of like minded souls. Through the amazing technology we have easy access to, I have friends across the nation that are doing the same thing. Nope, I’m not as original as it would appear. There are actually hundreds of people leaving everything behind to take to the open road. I don’t foresee a second coming of Grapes of Wrath, but there is definitely something going on with our economy that makes so many want to escape.

I’ve met many single mothers that are converting their buses with plans to live on the road, senior citizens that can’t afford their home any longer and college students that want to cut costs. There seems to be no specific age group to the movement, everyone just wants to experience the best life they can. There is even a plan for an annual Skoolie meet up somewhere between Seattle and San Francisco!  So, you see, there is an amazing energy out there just waiting for me to jump in.

So until next time, Huckleberry Friends, know I haven’t lost my mind and I’m not alone. Although, I do appreciate the concern. I’ll let you know later what solutions I came up with on the costuming botheration.

Happy Trails…

I May Be Too Sentimental

We’ve made it to the second Huckleberry Ramblings post! The sky is the limit. 🙂

The mental parting of lifelong treasures has already begun. Boy, what a tough job! Some things I’m not prepared to part with, others will be passed to a good home. Knowing that makes the job easier. Others that have already accomplished such a feat insist I will be glad I did it. Hmmm. Maybe I’ve attached to much sentimentality to my things.

Oh my gosh, my house plants! I’ve had many of them over 25 years. Each plant has been named after the person that gave it to me. I remember once, a stranger came to my home and was sitting very quietly looking around. After a while I asked her a question, trying to jar her out of the lost-in-space alternate universe she was evidently in. Her response was complete loss and wonderment, “All these plants.” was all she could mutter. I looked around, confused by her reaction, only to spot a couple of places another plant could find a home. In my defense, that house loved plants.

Next on the list are all my art supplies. I don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but artists are natural hoarders. You see, artists visualize a purpose for everything. One of my favorite sculptures makes amazing pieces from found articles. His studio is a menagerie of amazement. Come to think of it, I don’t know a single artist that only uses one art form. One must always be prepared, and boy, I have vision and am I prepared! When the bus pulls out, there will be art supplies aboard. I’m just now sure how to make that happen yet.

Books! I’ve always dreamed of having a library and now I have one. Keep or dispose of? I always thought I would spend my old age reading, crocheting, and making art. Little did I know that old age is a fleeting thing always pertaining to the “other”, never one’s self. I’ve heard said it that 60 is the new 40. In that case, kids we got a lot of living to do and it’s best we get started. So, special books and current research goes on the bus. Done deal. Hope there’s room for Harley.

Where to begin? Cleaning would be a good start. Oh, my poor aching back!

One way or another, life marches on.