Danger, Will Robinson!

Pacifica, CA
Outside of San Francisco

We are sitting on a cliff by the sea, and the inevitability of its collapse is weighing on my mind. The water is rough, pounding our cliff, and the winds are so high as to rock us from side to side, alternately terrifying and lulling us to sleep. It’s been like this for almost 48 hours. Last night the sign on the fence that said, “Danger. Do not go beyond this sign. Cliff is unstable,” blew off and fell into the sea.

I have already formulated a plan in my mind for escaping the bus and running behind it to move the car so John can back up in a hurry, should the inevitable happen while we are parked here, in the best and most treacherous spot in the park. We have a 180 degree view of the Pacific with no impediments, but that also means there’s nothing between us and the water.

A few years ago, the Pacific claimed an entire row of houses on the street next to our cliff. Now there’s a whole row of apartments a block down that’s been condemned, despite the fact that three times this year the town dumped mega-tons of boulders at the water’s edge. Obviously the sea will not be denied. Obviously there will be a year when our preferred spot at the water’s edge will be unavailable simply because it’s just not there anymore.

I just hope it doesn’t happen today.

The real culprit is the rain, which has been pouring down for not just days, but weeks. The sun is shining now, but the sky is otherwise grey and the fog is rolling in, as it has at least twice a day since we’ve been here. It’s just so San Francisco.

And now it’s raining. That’s all it took. One paragraph, and it's pouring again.

I think I’ll back up now. Why wait for me to prove me right. I don’t need to say, “See? I told you so” to myself, now do I.

Christmas Eve in the Bus

Pacifica, CA
Just South of San Francisco

What you've heard about the rains in Southern California is true. It rained for over a week while we passed through. We were silly enough to get both the bus and the car washed during a break in the deluge, but it rained steadily on our trip north to San Francico and both arrived covered in mud. Then again, there were moments like these, when the clouds would part, and the blue of the real sky would peek through.

Quite magnificent.

We have been in Pacifica for two days now, and the weather is holding, although it's forecast to make us wish for an ark on Christmas day, tomorrow. We're parked right on the ocean with a view that is a gift in itself, and I learned yesterday that the cliff is eroding and promises to lose another six feet in the next heavy rain. We may just back up a bit, since that could be a Christmas gift to rival all the bad ties and Chia Pets you've ever received.

But even in our comparatively small space, the Christmas spirit reigns. You make do as best you can, and live in happy chaos, as you will see. We always buy too much wrapping paper, and then have a small competition as to who has purchased the best paper. We all have our traditions, and this is one of ours. Last year I bought a small live tree, but even a three foot tree is too big for a bus, so I put it up outside. Unfortunately this time of year is the blowingest of all San Francisco seasons, and all it did was fall over. So this year I opted for a different holiday touch. People have been passing by and photographing it, go figure.

With all the huzzah and wrapping and stacking, Zeus can't figure out where to go. He keeps lying down on crinkly paper and getting upset. Right now he's standing on the back of the couch, the only place without bows, paper, ribbons or to-be-wrapped.

I guess Christmas just isn't a dog's ideal holiday. Too much craziness and no place to rest. But by this time tomorrow, it will be all over and things will begin to settle down. We'll store the extra paper, so that next year we will forget and buy more, and end up, as always, with too much. Some traditions just keep on happening.

Merry Christmas
Love
Betty

A Houseful of Good Wishes

On the Road
Bakersfield to San Francisco

My New Zealand cousin Jenny Jeffares tells me my blog is getting moldy, and I can see how that could be true. First of all, after almost three years, not so much is new about this RV living. Wake up, make coffee, see who emailed me, shower, dress, wash the dishes, make the bed, get going on the day. Gee, sounds like a house, doesn’t it.

Speaking of which, we slapped our retirement account in the face by buying a sweet house in Florida, somewhere we could go and have down time in. With everything I had hoped for, including a beautiful pool. I have visions of a dinner party with the pool lighted and candles all around. Oh it will be lovely.

But when will it happen? Now that’s a good question. Right now, we’re in California for Christmas with Jeff, then we’ll head to Palm Springs, then Quartzsite Arizona for a rally of Beaver Coach owners, even though we’ve sold ours. We’re still FOB – Friends of Beavers. And besides, Quartzsite is near friends Irwin and Randy, and has wonderful Southwestern beads straight from China at amazing prices. Then in February we’ll go back to LA and fly to Cabo for a Mexican month. We won’t even be back to our little house until mid-March.

My book has been stalled since we bought this house and I am feeling guilty about losing momentum, especially since there has been some interest in it from a couple of publishers. But the thrill of making a home and furnishing it has been all-consuming. It’s just not something you want to do online, although you can buy just about anything online, including a couch.

Tomorrow is Jonathan’s birthday; he would have turned 40. It’s been seventeen years since he joined the angels in heaven, but it still feels new, especially around this time of year. He was the best Christmas present I ever got, and Jeff was the best Birthday present. And you wonder why I love the holidays so much.

JONATHAN

JEFFREY

We’ll go out to dinner with Jeff and Hannah to celebrate his life and toast him in heaven. It will be a happy-sad time, but it is our tradition and we wouldn’t miss it.

Then there are all the gifts to wrap, a more modest selection than in years past, but there’s that house to furnish, remember. And besides, as we grow more and more golden, as in golden years, stuff just doesn’t do it so much anymore. We’re really about experiences, as evidenced by this peripatetic lifestyle. Look it up; it’s a great word.

So maybe for Jeff’s birthday, we’ll give him an experience – like a week at our new house in Florida, did I mention we bought a house?

I’d like to bake some cookies, but probably won’t get around to it. My oven works, but the tray is so small it takes hours just to make a couple of dozen. Besides, I always eat up half of what I’ve baked before they’ve even cooled. And I’m boring. There aren’t any cookies worth baking except chocolate chip. I made them with macadamia nuts from one of those frozen mixes last week and man, my eyes crossed with the pleasure of each bite.

So here I travel, currently cookie-less but salivating as I write this, and the California rains keep acomin’. Lordy, it’s wet. It’s been pouring here all up and down the state for a week or more. There are mudslides everywhere, road closings and collapses, and it’s neither warm enough or dry enough. I’m wearing socks for the first time in two years and I’m still cold to the bone.

Zeus is under his blanket and John’s wearing a sweater. Boy is he ever going to love his Christmas sweater. It’s perfect for this weather. Jeff will love his too. It’ll probably be his eleventh grey sweater; that boy is in a rut. Christmas sweaters is another tradition I just can’t break with, house or no house. I’ll just have to forego that guest room headboard. You won’t care, will you?

Merry Christmas everyone.
Love
Betty