Vegetable Stew

Ingedients

Red potatoes

Carrots

Celery

Bok choy 

Fresh garlic

Green beans

Onion

Tofu

Salt

At 3:30 I began. At 5:20, sunset, it was done.

My thanks to Jozien for encouragement.

1996 Geo Tracker Clutch Adjustment

The drama! Those who eschew obviously have no appreciation for the MEANING it imparts!

As we, ah say, ah say now, Pay Attention When Ah'm Tawkin' tew yuh, son!..as we come intuh the home stretch to 70 years of age, despite D'nile as a primary tactic, I do b'leeve it be gainin' on me.

Yesterday we packed up and went and got the rubber washers needed to make the clutch repair Germannically solid.

1/8" Thick

Today, it was back underneath to measure -- by eye -- and cut the washers to fit in the recess in front of the clutch cable collar thereby shimming the cable back about half an inch.

Four...count 'em.

The cable's held in place by the tension on the clutch and there's about an inch and a half of pedal freeplay before the clutch disengages.

We came south to Sahuarita...and I am pooped.

Clutch Entertainment

One can't be too sure about these things, but I believe this is the third clutch since May, 2017.

I started on it yesterday when I determined there was no more adjustment on the clutch cable. Thinking to create more pull, I crafted a bushing from a cane tip. It didn't work.

I went into 4wd-lo got up onto the stump which gave easy access....but not good for sleeping. By yanking on the shift lever we achieved nuetral and rolled to level.

Today it's all up to the jack and maybe digging out a pit. I have an idea I've yet to try...plenty of food and water. I am, for the moment, taking my time.

LUNCH

Canned mixed vegetables -- carrots, potatoes, peas, corn, green beans, celery, lima beans -- dolmas (canned) with sardine paté on cracker. Mixed vegetables seasoned with salt & pepper and they & sardines got a dollop of mayonnaise.

All chased with a small sip or two of wine.

After Lunch

I did some light machining on the clutch adjustment nut to help it turn more easily. That isn't the problem, but it's something that needed doing.

2:04pm -- SUCCESS!! The bushing ended up working; it just needed to seat better. It then enabled further adjustment.

It's gonna need additional work, but I'm gonna keep my fingers crossed we can make it to the hardware store. 

Afternoon Light

Phoebe In Upper Right

Swimmingly

A most sensual of activities.

Around 3:20, the sunlight comes below the cover.

It's a combo - crawl with side-stroke legs...sort of

This was my first encounter with a scale. I got off thinking I weighed 325. A little doubtful I button-holed Mike, the program coordinator. He went with me to check the scale. He weighed 147....about what I'd like to weigh. He was about my height so I got to see what I'd look like...sort of....if I were 35 years younger. He said I was looking at kilograms. 243 was still pretty upsetting. But it was better than the 250 I hit a few years ago. Onward!

I left the pool at 4:30 and immediatly discovered rush hour. I made it to the grocery....along with everyone else. It's WILD to see people rushing. I was astonished at how polite everyone is.

Approaching the freeway, Phoebe hit 72 mph and merged just like any other. We skimmed along until the pack thinned then dropped down to her preferred 62.

We may do it again tomorrow.

Mornings - Coffee & Wine

I was 17 - Fresh from a Boulder, Colorado school for dropouts - I'd barely finished the ninth grade. I'd read about Sylvan Hart, The Last of the Mountain Men, and set out with a boy-scout backpack to find him.

Eschewing maps, I wandered the Salmon River Wilderness -- as it was known in them days. At the end of the road, before it turned up French Creek and wound up the mountain to Burgdorf, lived a tall, ninety-year-old string bean who started his day with a shot of whiskey.

I met him when I followed the road past the turnoff to see what there was. I walked in those days and, as now, was something of an anomoly -- just like everybody else in that part of the world. 

On Friday and Saturday nights around 10pm or so, I'd see his truck go by. The road was a narrow lane cut into the steep mountainside. There were sheer dropoffs into the river where folks dumped their unwanted cars and a few who missed the turn came to their end.

Accordion, Cup o' Wine & Boiled 'Taters

I start the day, after breakfast, with a bite of coffee. Wine in the evening causes reflux so I decided to copy the old man. And it facilitates accordion practice and cooking. 50+ years later, I toast his memory with a couple of sips -- on a fine day somewhat like then, for wandering.

It's 1:30 or later by the time I'm ready to roll. The wine, 

incompatible with the heart meds, has LONG since worn off. 

The Hazards of Piddling

I'm 4.5 miles south of I-8 and the road, all along the way, is CAMPED UP! Everyone has 1,000 acres, but every space is taken.

It was almost dark when I got to a BLM road. I fired up the GPS to note the location on the laptop. Climbing back into the cab, I noticed a light. I couldn't guage the distance, but drove ahead, thinking to find a place beyond them. 

Almost imnediately I discovered they were only a few hundred feet ahead. I went past but after about 1,000 feet, there was an impassable wash. Fortunately, the road took a sharp dip just before. By now it was completely dark and I was exhausted. I made camp. I'm too close for proper etiquette, but we can't see each other...I just hope they don't have a dog.

Sheesh! Two years ago no one was out here. 

I got going today at 4:00 pm, so had an hour and a half to drive which, for me, translates to 45 minutes. I stopped in Gila Bend to get water and drove the remaining half hour (with the sun above the horizon) to the exit. I drove into four possible sites before finally settling here. The first two were still too noisy and the others were taken....with vehicles hidden by vegetation until I got close.

In one of Michael Pollan's books he interviewed an Idaho potato farmer. The family had a garden where they grew theirs. The farmer said they wouldn't eat the ones grown for commercial sale...too many chemicals 

I was surprised by how much cleaner the organics were. The rinse water for the regulars was muddy, but the water for these was so clean I used it to rinse dishes.

Buckeye, Arizona

A fruitful stop. I had a slow leak in the port side aft. A bolt, he said.

After the tire I went across the street & picked up a new battery from Walmart. Phoebe's is due to poop out any day. Price dropped $40.00. Last one was $100.00. This one $57.00. Same kind.

Nice supper of canned peas & porkchops with popcorn for dessert. Now, 8pm, kicked back with Yogi Egyptian Licorice tea...a recent introduction thanks to She-of-the-Capri.

This Spot Taken

It's dawg eat dawg out here in the West. I GOTZ to git me uh new hat! In the meantime ah dun peed on several creosote bushes. 

I'ma gonna try drinking coffee again. It's been almozt two years.

I needed a measuring cup. It does double-duty as a filter holder. 

I keep the katsup handy in case somebody stops by with some fries.

Wickenburg Bluegrass Festival

 

The Arizona Wildflowers

A Close Call

It was dark. Suddenly there was a turn, a steep incline, rocks and ruts. "Not in the dark," I said and backed down. I made camp a couple hundred feet away. In the morning I discovered a deep canyon with a straight dropoff.

Blind in one eye, my ability to guage distance is not  good, but I'm gonna say the first ledge is about 12-15 feet down. The second, the brown spot, about 60 more.

It's about 15 feet to the lip of the first ledge.

It would've only been natural to do an end-over-end. Duh sekunt flip woulda bin ober d'lip.

Looking at my tracks, I saw I'd backed onto a small turnout opposite the dropoff.

The faint lines cutting the diagonal from lower left to upper middle and upper right are Phoebe''s.

If I'd turned the other way I'd have gone over. 

What's that saying about drunks and fools?

Old Route 66

The old highway must've been awe inspiring. And the heat!  With the threat of the radiator boiling over, let alone a failed water pump!

The old route is much prettier than the freeway, but it would've taken some real motivation to drive it. Now it's the occasional youngster on their "organ donor" sport bike and the just-as-occasional olde dood on his Harley trying to recreate those days of yore. And no flyover!

Nice breeze...sunshine. Now, all that's needed are a few willing females; or ONE even. 

My dreams have been vivid vignettes of ambles in idyllic nature or cross-campus errands from my days as ombudsman in the College of Eduation at the University of New Mexico.

When I saw my former boss at The Frontier Restaurant, she said they'd had to hire two people to replace me. Of Italian descent, her parents had immigrated to Gallup to mine coal. She appreciated entreprenuership and let me run my businesses (note plural) from my office on the second floor.

Full Moon Rising

Continuing southward, whim-driven, I went toward Oatman then turned south on old 66. Popular with motorcyclists, I was surprised to see so many campers; sun-blasted crags, creosote and occasional stands of teddy-bear cholla didn't used to hold much appeal.

The Warm Springs Wilderness sets betwixt it and interstate 40...doesn't warrant a mention on MAPS. Its  roadless space caught my eye.

Nevada - southbound

As you can probably (easily) recall, the ambivalence around Tropic was weighted by the threat of snow. I suspect we'd have had to wait a day or more for the road to be cleared and even then I'll surmise it'd have been rough. That was a loooooooong, steep hill.

I too had had enough exploring, although I can usually, after some rest, bounce back if it's warm. The cold definitely puts the kabosh on my exploratory enthusiasms.

I'm parked between two behemoths. One is an older model bus, perhaps a former Trailways or Greyhound. It fired up its generator a few minutes ago to, I suspect, run their heater; it's getting chilly. The other is a late model whatever with "slides" and a trailer -- for their atv? 

It's not as cold as Utah. And it warmed up nicely this afternoon. I'm hoping by tomorrow afternoon, if it doesn't rain, I'll be able to have a baaaahth. (It's been cloudy all day. High clouds rather than rain or snow though.)

Watching the emotional aspects emerge are, for me, a whole nuther dimension of our relationship. I keep thinking about your letter to: one of my therapists. In *Getting To Grace,*  Ms. Boyle describes how her low self-esteem influenced her behavior; it made her work overly hard to be liked. What you said about me developing my sexual abilities resonated similarly. Would you talk about that? I'll never know if I was able to elicit an erotic response from her and I haven't a clue as to her feelings about polyamory. Were you to "wax eloquent," your writings might inspire envy as well as satisfaction.

An Anomolous Slog?

Or the shape of things to come?

I had an inkling going to Oregon might involve a bit of ardulity coming back. But this has turned into more than I anticipated. 

I'm not complaining!

I used to keep a journal in addition to blogging and though I still journal the private stuff, the day-to-day happenings now all go here. That said, I'm making note of how coming down from Oregon then over to Green River, up to Vernal, back to Green River and across to Saint George, as beautiful as it was, took a greater toll than expected.

The flight southward, usually to somewhere in Arizona, has, in years past, been prefaced by a stint in Albuquerque. Though a mixed blessing, what with spending quality time with the squidgatious Ms. Cook, the noise and pace of the city always leant a strong dose of relief to my leave-taking. 

This is in no way to imply I would've done it any differently. It just always comes as a shock to, once again, face what a cold-wuss I am.

Lake Meade Ntl Rec Area

What a day!!

Yesterday was rough with an early-morning breakfast and then saying goodbye to She-of-the-Capri.

Still exhausted even after a night's sleep, I got out of camp around 2 today. It's cold and despite my fatigue I was determined to get further south where, hopefully, the clime is milder.

Around 4, I dragged myself through the grocery store in Overton and continued on. By 6 I was well into Lake Meade Ntl Recreation Area and it was dark.

All the roads on Garmin (my navigation system) had been blocked off and there's no dispersed camping. Eventually I got to hwy 149, went north out of the park and found a place. A few swigs of soda-pop wine I picked up on a whim in Green River, Utah helped ease the angst of unloading.

Every now and then I envy those with indoor plumbing...and all the rest.

It WAS a beautiful sunset. 

Retiring the Stetson

Its origin-story has been lost in the myriad vagaries that now constitute my "alleged" mind. 

I only washed it once before but this last one, a week or so ago, did it in.

Never having had a Stetson before, I was skeptical. I have a vague recollection of balking at its $10.00 price, but after looking them up online, decided to splurge. Besides, it had "patina."

The years have streamed by; it's been sat on, smushed between luggage and always bounced back. Most interestingly to me, it hasn't managed to be lost.

Always on the lookout for gifts, the purple frog caught my eye. It never found a home and thinking I'd gained a certain infamy from my big mouth, and seeing as how my girth had expanded to Truly Prodigious, I decided to adopt it as my latest avatar (badger was another); it garnered a few compliments which gave the opportunity to relate the preceding and give Mr. Stomach an affectionate pat.

I saw a "Rodeo King" on a guy the other day. He got it from C.A.L. Ranch. But can you sit on it? Can you crush it beneath luggage? 

In the meantime, I have this splendid watch-cap that came as a gift.

As warm and cosy as it is, it just doesn't lend the proper "air" when I walk into a bar, everyone turns to look, and I go into a glaring crouch with my hands out at my sides, fingers twitching.