Zion National Park: More of the Travels With Our Prius, the 13th day of our 2 week trip

For those of you who have been following my stories about my husband and I camping around the U.S. and sleeping in our 2004 Prius, I have a few more to tell you.....

We drove to Zion National Park, in Utah in early May, and stayed for 2 nights, once again sleeping in our car as a camper. The only place that was left to stay was in the group camp, called Watchman, below the peak of the same name, so we shared our campfire with others.

We are surprised that there are so many Europeans camping everywhere. That night, we had a UCSB chemical engineering graduate from Israel, doing a road trip across the US before going to work in Germany, and also another little family from Israel who have been grad students at Stanford. The woman said "It is so Israel", that they would meet someone else from Israel.

The only problem with this campground is the caterpillars. They must drop down from the cottonwood trees, since there are a lot of nest-like things in the trees. As I was reading in a camp chair in the sunshine, a furry creature came into my peripheral vision as it crawled over the top of my book on to the page. I scared Doug when I jumped up, dropping my book in the sandy soil. Then I found one on my pants leg  and then a couple on his shirt! They're so sneaky!!... and quiet! We saw four little cocoons lined up along the wood frame of the restroom with another caterpillar making plans to spin his own little "sleeping bag".

After dinner one night, our cell phone rang, with it's characteristic "Quack quack quack", startling us from our idyllic reverie in the woods back into reality. Tenants from a house we were renting out with utilities included had their power turned off! They were sitting in the dark with their new baby and found out the bill hadn't been paid. We could barely hear them over the bad connection, but the frustration was heard loud and clear. I was ashamed to think that I had organized so many other things for this trip, but this had slipped through the cracks. What else had I missed?
We told them we'd call them back and called PG&E, and promptly got put on hold, all the while watching the battery on our phone dwindling away. We turned on the car, and plugged the phone cord into the charger, (formerly known as the cigarette lighter). Someone answered finally, and said it would be restored within an hour. We relayed the message to the tenants and apologized. Hanging up, we cracked up laughing that we were conducting business while camping in the woods! What a difference a cell phone makes!

Doug proceeded to make up our bed in the Prius while I finished washing the dishes by our solar lamplight. The water I heat on the camp stove is always so welcome to my chilly fingers after the sun goes down.
We walk together up to the restrooms to get cleaned up for bed. On the way back to camp, our sweet Prius is seen through the trees, waiting for us, with the light on inside. I commented on how cozy it looked, since Doug had arranged the pillows so nicely and the covers were turned back, beckoning us to get in. After that stressful call, I was ready to relax. I went to open my passenger side door, but it wouldn't! Doug tried his, and no go....and then another and then another. Frantic, we went over what could be wrong. Both sets of keys were locked inside, but that shouldn't happen. You're not supposed to be able to lock your keys in the car. It shouldn't let you....in fact it beeps at you till you figure out to remove your purse or whatever they are in. We circled the car as if it was prey, trying each door over and over, and of course praying. It was getting cold, and we were so close to our nice warm bed. A man walked by and asked us what was up. We told him and as soon as I went to show him, all of a sudden, the door opened! The only thing we can figure is that since both of our keys were in the car , it thought it was protecting us from robbers who were trying all the doors to get at us. Thank you Prius, I guess.
After all that, nice and cozy in our bed, no caterpillars, no more phone calls, no more civilization. We just rolled down the windows a crack, listened to the sounds of the forest and folks around a nearby campfire, someone softly strumming a guitar, and slept.

The next two days we took the free shuttle around the park. We walked along the River Walk. It was about 3 miles round trip, not so difficult......but even so,we were proud of ourselves for doing it.

 Other more athletic folks were all geared up with their paraphernalia to walk into ""the Narrows" at the end of the River Walk. They walk in to the 47 degree water through the canyon walls that are closing in overhead, with walking sticks to help them keep their balance. Doug went so far as to take off his shoes and walk into the water to cool his feet. I sat on a rock and talked to a nice lady from England.

Our very favorite area was at the Weeping Wall. You have to walk pretty much up hill, about a quarter mile in, so for us, we were puffing pretty hard. Just as you break into a sweat in the 91 degree temp, the big rock wall shows itself in a sort of cave/grotto shape, seeping water. A knowledgeable sounding person said that the water coming from the stones was thousands of years old. It drips cool water on your head and shoulders welcoming you. Tiny purple Columbine flowers grow out of the damp rock. When you finally turn around, you see the valley from which you've climbed, but only the tops of the tall deciduous trees framed by the reddish mountains on either side.

We broke up camp that day, sorting through all our old camping supplies and replenishing expired things. When checking if we left any last minute things, I found our friend's Yamaka, from when he said his prayers at the spot where we read in the morning. It's my favorite souvenir.

To get out of the park, we drove toward the east gate. In 1931, they blasted a long dark tunnel, that has a few arched windows to let you peek out to the scenery. There is a different look to the sandstone on that side.... almost a melting effect. It's so astounding, that you have to stop about every few feet to get a better look and take photos. Zion was a gift to our senses.

Next we drove to Kanab, Utah, a little town known as the "Hollywood of Utah", since many old westerns were filmed here. The beautiful red and tan sandstone mountains that surround Kanab drew producers of westerns to use it as their backdrop. The Hollywood Museum in town is free, and they have well preserved buildings from movie sets. We're thinking we will rent "Outlaw Josie Wales" some time to spot the house that we were in today.

It was about then that Doug proposed that our two week retirement trip wasn't set in stone. We didn't have to go back right away, since everything was basically being taken care of at home for a while. The great beginning of our extended retirement trip began with Doug saying, "I wonder if my friend from high school is home in Colorado. Maybe we could go there and visit him!" Well, he was.....and we did.

Being Auntie Pat

I've always told people that I was an "afterthought". My parents had already had 3 girls, the youngest of whom was 12 years old, and the eldest, 19. There is some proof, however, that I wasn't a surprise...I was planned. I felt some comfort in the fact, that my mom had a miscarriage before me, but still, even at 41, tried again. Perhaps I would have had another sister or brother, or maybe I wouldn't have been around.

When I was four, my oldest sister had her first baby, a girl. They lived a couple of hours away, so when they came to visit a couple of years later, my sister helped me bring her to my first grade class since it was my turn to "show and tell". I imagine that I educated the class about what a niece looks like, and the fact that I was the youngest auntie in the class.

Over the years, my sisters ended up having 10 more babies, and I found myself delighted with my little playmates. I was, after all, closer to their ages than I was to many of my own cousins. Most of them lived close by in the Bay Area, and would often come over to my house, where I lived with my Mom and Dad.

This is during a time way before video games or cell phones. We had a great time just being outside playing together. Running around my parent's white stucco house, chasing each other, was a major pastime. One game was called "the farmer and the chickens". It consisted of one kid being the farmer, trying to catch all the chickens before they ran all around the house and crept in to the "chicken coop", aka the porch swing, in the backyard. Much giggling and shrieking was involved in this game, as we tried to get by the farmer, who clearly was at a disadvantage being on his or her own.

Another memorable game was played on the cement front steps that were painted the obligatory red. It was called "school", and one child, the teacher, held a rock in one hand, and put forward both fists for a student (all of whom were sitting on the bottom stair), to choose a hand. If they chose the one with the rock, they graduated to the next step, but if they didn't, they either stayed where they were or, later in the game went down one step. This game was really good for all ages, except for the times when one of the littler kids felt bad about losing all the time, cried and wouldn't move. The first one to get to the top stair was the winner, and was the next teacher. I remember everyone having red chalky stains on the back of their pants after sitting on the stairs.

The lawn in front of the house was on a hill, so it was great fun to take turns rolling on our sides, over and over on the cool grass down to the sidewalk. The sidewalk usually had a hopscotch drawn on to it with chalk. Some of the older kids played hopscotch, while the younger ones tumbled down the hill. I learned from recess in grade school, that you should have your own bit of chain as your marker. I think it is called a taw. My dad gave me a few links of a toilet chain he found in the garage, while my friend had a small chain that hooks at either end, usually used as a key chain. The chains landed and stayed put where a rock might roll around, so it was preferable. A chain, being  longer though, might drape over a line when tossed, causing you to miss a turn. Sometimes, if there was a taw in each of the first three squares, you'd have to get a running start to make a flying leap over all the squares, and keep your balance on one foot after you picked up your chain, and then finishing the grid. We all had to keep an eye out for the toddlers, though, that they didn't randomly walk through the game, picking up the chains.

Back in the house, my Dad was always willing to answer the pleas of the grandkids to let them do "flips" on him. He'd hold their hands as they walked their little feet up his legs and on to his chest. Then they'd flip over backwards. The older, more experienced ones could flip back the other way, face beaming, and then get back in line for another turn. By the time all this was happening, I was about 12, and a little too tall for such things. I remembered wistfully that I had had my share of flipping in my day.

A couple of years later, I sat in front of the TV every couple of nights for my Laura Weber guitar lesson on KQED. I was very devoted and practiced every day, sitting by myself in the living room in my Dad's big chair. That's where I'd sit after a while with all my attentive, darling nieces and nephews, singing along with me, as I played and sang, "Oh They Built the Ship Titanic", and other songs that I still have in my Corduroy Book, a binder full of folk and pop songs. They had been painstakingly printed by hand on binder paper and many of the chords and words had been,.carefully transcribed by me and a friend by listening to records on my portable record player in the living room.
The Corduroy Book is still in use, as last May, I was asked to bring my guitar and music to my first niece's 60th birthday party. Her special request was to sing the Titanic song. We were sitting around a campfire, and as I looked out past the flames at the crowd, I saw many of my sweet nieces and nephews next to their own grown kids, singing along with their Auntie Pat once again.

Sickroom Supplies, Part 2.... The Hospital

You may have read my other story called "Sickroom Supplies" from last year when I was home with the flu. This time, I'm writing from a hospital bed in Kaiser Richmond ICU with an IV port on the back of each hand, and an oxygen monitor attached to my middle finger. It lights up the end of my finger just like ET's, only red instead of green. I think the nurses may have heard my not-so-original quip about "ET phone home" a few times before. They're getting used to my sense of humor, though, since I've been here now, for almost 4 days.

When my husband and I decided it was time to take me to the emergency room for repeated dizzy spells (I won't go in to details), we grabbed a couple of things to help pass the time. Both of us knew that a visit to the ER could involve a great deal of waiting, so Doug first grabbed the morning newspaper so he could be assured of his daily Jumble fix. There would also be a couple of crosswords in there; one for each of us, and a Sudoku or Cryptogram if I got desperate, depending on my condition. I also grabbed a few sheets from our New York Times calendar that has a page with a crossword on it for each day. We mainly just do Monday through Wednesday, since they get harder and harder through the week. I always have a few in my purse in case of a "crossword emergency".

Turned out it was a good thing that we went to the ER, since it was shown that my dizzy spells happened whenever my heart paused, or STOPPED for 3-6 seconds. I had been having these faint feelings since January, but didn't take them seriously, blaming them on dehydration or inner ear problems. My advice to everyone reading this is to not ignore dizzy spells. .....So that's how I ended up in the intensive care unit. At this time in my life, and at least for this emergency, I seem to be one of the younger, and relatively healthy ones in the ICU. Most of the patients in the other rooms need more constant care, such as turning them so they don't get bedsores. The person in the next room had some sort of breathing problem, and every time she coughed, the machine she was attached to made a sound not unlike the horn on a taco truck. She wasn't conscious, but I think if I was, I'd be trying to figure out how to cough to make a tune. (Sorry, that wasn't very nice.)

As for me, I feel pretty well between the "dizzy spells". They seem to pass over me and leave me feeling fine afterwards. Because I felt so fine, Doug and I made a list of things that would keep me entertained during my hospital stay. He thought he wanted to stay with me all night in one of those recliner chair beds, but one of the nurses discouraged him with tales of all the night noises, alarms and beeps that you shouldn't have to hear unless you had to. So, convinced that I would be well taken care of, he left with a promise to return in the morning with my supplies.

There really wasn't a very long list. My iPhone was almost out of battery, so he had to bring the charger so I could communicate with friends and relatives that were outside the 510 area code (the only ones that I could call from the bedside phone). Also, the iPhone isn't just a phone. I'm figuring out that when the din of the hospital is so loud, I can put on the Hawaiian music or George Winston station on Pandora Radio and pretend I'm in a spa. I can text our kids and check email, and even Tweet! When I can't go to sleep and want a story read to me, I can listen to Podcasts of Garrison Keillor doing his daily Writer's Almanac stories and poems with his soothing voice. It's like a bundle of goodies to soothe a person cooped up.
I still love to read a real book though. Even though I had read it before, I asked for my copy of Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods". We entertained each other the next day by reading aloud from it. One of the sentences couldn't be completed because I was laughing so hard, and Doug took the book from me, finished the phrase, and then got stuck, just as I did, both of us with tears rolling down our cheeks. Isn't it wonderful when a writer can communicate so well?

On a calmer note, I chose a book about settlers in Washington state, "The Living", by Annie Dillard. We're taking turns reading that one, since it's the history of the area where Doug was born, in Snohomish county.
Actually high on the requests were my favorite pens, a Bic 4-color one, and another that I got from an art supply store that has 6 (count 'em! 6!) colors of ink, plus a pencil. These are for crosswords. I bought a bunch of these pens when we retired, so we could always find one. We look like Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee, sitting in a restaurant doing a crossword together, each with our own color ink. Also, if a letter is changed, it goes in a different color, or if we cheat and look at an answer, it's in another shade yet!

Evidently, Kaiser is trying to be classy and gives each patient what looks like a little blue voile "spa" bag with all the grooming products one might need, including ear plugs and a sleep mask that has helped me through most nights, and a nice Kaiser "Thrive" shopping bag with fruits and vegetables on it, rather than the usual medicinal plastic bags to take your "parting gifts" home in. My mother-in-law, Helen would have said they were "fadink", her word for fancy. All I had to ask for from home was deodorant and jammy bottoms to hide my bottom when visitors come.

Some of the nurses have commented that they've never seen anyone in ICU sitting up in bed using a laptop, but that was one of my requests. I love checking on how many folks have read my stories and where in the world they live. I've been handing out my new cards printed lately with my blog address, to anyone who will take one, and I reminded myself of how Mr Dowd (Jimmy Stewart) gave everyone his card in the great old movie "Harvey".

Since I'm mostly here to monitor my heart, and figure out how to control its irregular beats (atrial fibrillation), I feel pretty well, surprisingly, even though my heart pauses sometimes, every 10 or 15 minutes. I have my share of IV ports, blood draws and shots in the tummy (heparin for anti-coagulation). It's not comfortable or as if I'm on vacation. If I ever got out of bed to walk the 3 steps to the toilet, I had to be unleashed from the short cords monitoring BP and oxygen. The very patient, knowledgeable nurses made it all bearable. One of them visited with me one night before she got off, and laughed so hard with me, as we both told each other jokes we've heard Paula Poundstone say and recounted our favorite stories from Garrison Keillor to each other. I ended up leaving the Bill Bryson book for her so she could laugh some more. It's true about laughter being the best medicine.

Late on the fourth day, a medicine has been found to regulate my heart, and I get to thankfully, go home tomorrow. I have a short list to make me happy when I get home. A long shower, a nap in our own bed, a nice, ripe, Santa Rosa plum off my tree, and a piece of Dove chocolate. Mmmm.   Home sweet home.

Palm Springs Musings

Twelve years ago, I met my husband. Just a few months later, we traveled to Palm Springs together to see his elderly mom. She was being cared for by his stepsister and her husband. I was happy to see that she was in such good, loving hands in her own home.... even though she was in a hospital bed. This made a good impression on me, that he hadn't put her in a nursing home. I had experienced caring for my relatives and thought it was an humane thing to do, (even though, admittedly, it could be difficult at times.)

We visited his Mom at the mobile home park where she had lived with her husband as "snowbirds". They traveled there from Washington state for the warm winter in Palm Springs for 23 years. Her brother visited at the same time with his wife, and he was teary-eyed to see his sister in what seemed to be a failing state. He spoke a little Dutch in her ear, as she lay there with her eyes closed.

Doug's family of 5 kids have many fond memories of traveling during the holidays to visit Grandma and Grandpa for a nice warm Christmas. They stayed with them at their mobile home, swimming in the pool and enjoying a great Christmas dinner. Their grandparents were popular, involved, making friends at happy hour with the Canadian "Snowbirds", and played in tournament shuffleboard.

After holding his Mom's hand and in a spiritual sense, bonding with her and meeting her, we went out for awhile. Doug said later, "I just love that trailer park! That's where I'd like to retire some day!" 

"Hmm", I said, "I don't think so.... at least I wouldn't."

Doug seemed very hurt.

The next part of the story is 11-1/2 years later.

We got married 10 years ago. I retired from my job a while ago, and then we worked together to close his store in Berkeley and he retired a year later.

Standing in the closed store.

One of the trips we took was to Palm Springs, for a week, but it was too cold....not at all the experience we had hoped for.  I said,"It doesn't even feel like we've been to Palm Springs!"

Doug had the idea to see what was going on at the mobile park. We went to visit his sister, but she was very busy. There was a shuffleboard tournament going on, and she was taking in the money for the bbq burgers, pie, etc that were being sold. There were lots of happy people mingling around.

We visited with some of them, and Doug said, "I wonder if there's a place we could rent for a week or so. There's supposed to be a warming trend."

When asked, folks said, "Nope, there's nothing for rent."

Those were fighting words to Doug. He pulled a map off the bulletin board of the park, and to prove them wrong, we drove up and down each street, looking for a "for rent" sign. The only sign was a faded "for sale" sign, and it had a phone number. A friendly neighbor came up to our car and said, "Call the number! Maybe they'll let you rent it!"

We did. The owner said he would come meet us the next morning. He was driving from San Diego and was late. We opened the gate and sat in the yard, waiting, and imagining what it would be like to stay there. Folks started coming in the open gate, since it hadn't been open for so long and was for sale! Luckily, everyone was gone when the owners came, and we signed a week-to-week lease for 2 weeks. 

Just then, a man came in and said he wanted to buy the place! Within a few minutes, our lease was turned over, and we had a new landlord. We could still stay the two weeks.

This was a great time. We got to know the community, and I figured out that they had a library, an exercise room, and  we joined the aqua-size class in the huge, warm pool. It was filled daily with friendly Canadian couples and their families, seniors who had lived there for years, and also friendly Gay men. Everyone seemed to get along famously.

The location is also fabulous. The Palm Springs Senior Center and the public library are right across the street, and all the stores, cafes, that you could ever need, including a frozen yogurt shop. There's even a thrift shop within walking distance, plus many, many more within the city. (It's amazing how excited I get about a thrift store. Doug calls me a "cheap date"). Plus, the weather, six months a year is lovely, encouraging folks to dress as if they're on a tropical island. The spectacular view of the close-by San Jacinto Peak is fascinating to look at as the sun sets behind it early every night at around 4 pm, providing a very long twilight.

Doug's sister, also a resident, "had her ear to the ground", and found out that someone in her neighborhood was looking to sell soon. She thought that Doug would be too tall for this darling place, but he wasn't. 

When we first saw this '55 Columbia Trailer with a long room with vaulted ceilings added on each side, I first thought of my Grandma Diddo's "Greenhouse" in Capitola. It looked like a beach house to me, and was artistically decorated from many garage sales. I told the owner, "I feel like I've gone to a thrift shop, I like everything, and I can have it ALL!'

We made a quick decision to buy it, at what we think is a very reasonable price. Many new cars cost less! We had looked around at other places that might be coming on to the market soon, but I kept holding on to the idea of the "beach house". It didn't look like any of the others to me, and Doug soon knew that this was the one for us. (Especially since I had had such an aversion to trailers before.....he thought he'd better go with what I liked!)

We drove back up to the Bay Area to tend to business, and couple of weeks later we were moved in. Participating in the Park's rummage sale, we sold all we didn't need that the owner left. We went to a dance (and danced!), and we swam again in the aqua-size class with fun people we've come to call friends. Within 2 weeks, we both bought bicycles and were practicing on the nice flat terrain.

Pat with our colorfully painted wall.

This little cottage has been anointed as "ours", since we painted the cinder block wall surrounding our patio in desert colors of olive, rust, bamboo, and marigold. We named the huge palm tree on our patio, "Connie", since the previous owner planted it. (She cried when I told her, saying, "You guys are so sweet!)

Doug with the newly painted door at our "cottage".

We are not snowbirds, but rainbirds, we say, since we only escape the rain of the East Bay, in Northern California, rather than the iced over lakes and deep snow of Canada. Alas, there are only 5 or 6 months that you can appreciate the nice warm climate of Palm Springs. Snowbirds are heading north now, telling us tales of how to "close down" our winter home. 120 degree temps have been known to melt plastic salt and pepper shakers and weather and dry up bicycle tires. After interviewing several folks at the pool, we followed instructions and put two big garbage cans full of water in each side of the cottage. They say when we return in October, the water will be almost gone! This keeps up the humidity during the hottest temps. We also had to put mineral oil in the toilet, and then cover the tank and the seat with plastic wrap, so that the water doesn't evaporate too quickly, allowing animals to find their way in....!

The previous owner left covers for all the windows to put on the inside, with the foil facing outward to deflect the sun. A good neighbor will be coming around to water my "test" plants, succulents, lantana, feather grasses, and bougainvilia. A lot of those are planted all over Palm Springs, so I opted to be safe. We'll see if anything's left when we come back.

"Connie" our palm tree with view from the patio.

 God Bless you little cottage. We'll miss you. Be safe.