Saturday, November 11, 2017

Camping Behind the Shop


I've been out having a life, but not blogging about it, for going on about a year now.  I came back from my Thailand trip with a bad case of thyroid disease, and never did have the energy to write it up with all the gorgeous pictures.  I replaced my 1985 Toyota Dolphin with a 1984 20-foot Lazy Daze mini-motorhome, "Brownie".  I've been on an epic RV trip up the Great River Road with my partner Steve, and I flew to visit my daughter in Seattle where I frugally camped rather than pay high hotel prices.  Boy, I've got some stories!  But they'll have to wait.  I'm going to tell you about today.

I'm trying to resume aspects of my life that fell by the wayside when fatigue set in so badly a year or so ago.  I have been able to maintain most aspects of my nomadic life.  Most months, I open my art gallery in Truth or Consequences for about four days during and surrounding our Second Saturday Art Hop, a citywide event (on both streets!).  When I don't have Sun Gallery open, I'm out looking for inventory, painting, or traveling. But I haven't had the energy for "extra" commitments, such as blogging.  I'm hoping that is over.

Sunset at Texas Canyon, a rest stop along I-10 in Cochise County, Arizona, where I spent a night on the way back to TorC

I just got back from a visit to our primitive campground in Why, Arizona, and now I'm keeping the gallery open for six weekends in a row to capitalize on the holiday shopping and high tourism season.  I drove in from Deming, my last stop on the way back to TorC, on Tuesday morning, had a coffee party in Brownie with a couple of dear friends, and then went into the gallery to work for a while.  

In the afternoon when I was ready to leave, Brownie didn't start!  I called Steve, and we ruled out the battery, because the headlights and various other lights work.  After a little research, we realized it has to be the ignition switch or starter or possibly the alternator.  So, Brownie needs a tow to my mechanic.  

Because I'm working all weekend at the gallery, I decided to put off the tow until Tuesday, the day my mechanic has time to deal with my rig.  So, in the meantime, I'm camped in downtown TorC.  

I was upset by being stuck here for a little while, because I'd envisioned camping at this bend in the Rio Grande that's a free Bureau of Reclamation site:

Instead, my view is this (which improves during weekday hours when the honey bucket trucks are out working):

So it goes.  I was kind of upset for a little while, but I got over it pretty quickly once I'd walked over to the Pelican Spa for a soak in the hot springs and then eaten a big bowl of green chili at Latitude 33.  Downtown living ain't bad, I remembered.  My gallery is actually just a few doors down from the apartment where Sonja, Steve and I once spent a winter, so this is all really familiar.  The cat is fearless about hanging out in the parking lot back here, so I have to watch her carefully.

I'm prepared for the possibility that Brownie might have to be at the mechanic's shop overnight.  If necessary, I can stay in the gallery.  More dear friends are coming to my rescue, lending me an inflatable bed and a dorm size fridge.  I already have small kitchen appliances to make it possible to make coffee and do a little cooking.  It's so funny--I remember the adjustments I had to make when I learned how to "do without" electricity and city water, and now I have to make adjustments in my life to go back to living with these things.   
I've kept the gallery open.  It's not profitable, but it almost pays for itself and it's a heck of a lot of fun.  During my recent time in Arizona, I made a couple of paintings, and this one has already sold:

You Are the Star, acrylic, 20 x 20 in.
And now for the gratuitous cat picture, so I can be draw this entry to a close:

Sonja Begonia, age 10, with 25,000+ miles of RVing on her


  1. Welcome back - I've missed your posts.

  2. I forgot to mention I will also have the loan of a car while Brownie is in the shop. I am blessed beyond comprehension.