Party for Malakai LaFerme-St. John's 2nd Birthday

Being two years old makes you aware that it's a special occasion and Malakai was a good host to his guests.. sharing and playing for three hours Sunday afternoon. Although his birthday was actually Monday, Mama and Pa worked around the schedule of Mali's guests. Everyone had a good time eating fresh veggies with dip, ham, guava paste (like the Cubans serve to their guests, but without the traditional cream cheese (because Gramma forgot to buy extra), and TWO birthday cakes! Mali's favorite blueberry upside down cake and a yummy carrot cake with a sweet cream cheese icing. Mama made a lovely pink punch of blood oranges, lemons, and sparkling water. The day was warm and sunny and the children enjoyed going into the garden and played nicely together. Four of the children were close in age to Mali and there was one "big boy" there, Lorian. The grownups enjoyed seeing one another and there will be even more photos, the next ones taken by David. Heidi's Blessing Way will be next Sunday, here. No children will be present for that special event celebrating the birth of Heidi and David's second child, any day now. Mali's other grandmother (also named Penny) sent his favorite toy, a large spinning top that plays music! Gramma gave him a white Ferrari he saw while shopping in Nevada City. The home is the photo is Lucia's.

Odds 'n' Ends

There are bits and pieces of things I wanted to talk to you about that never made it to the daily blog entry..here they are in no particular order (the photo is apropos of nothing, I love pigs and the child reminded me of Mali, that's all there is to it):

I am a big fan of RV's. I've wanted one for years and appreciate the lifestyle. Don't like the weather, the view, the neighbors? Turn the key. But I have to say that the "RV Resorts" I saw in New Mexico and Arizona were atrocious eyesores. Because the desert hasn't the natural barrier of trees, these resorts have far too high a profile and should be dealt with before they proliferate further. Put all the city planners in those states onto a bus/train/plane and send them to Paso Robles, CA for examples of how to deal with the issue effectively. In Paso Robles I saw a fair-sized RV campground by the highway that was nearly unnoticeable because of the height of a neutral stone enclosure around all of it. If you have read through my blog you may feel sure that I would avoid places like this anyway, not choosing to be jammed into such close contact with others. That aside, these "resorts" give the RV'ers a black eye.

The female ticket taker in Tombstone at Six Gun City struck up a conversation with me and said she wishes she had the "guts" to travel cross country alone. I assured her it doesn't take "guts", just desire and caution. "Well, I don't know.. these days it's dangerous." "You're dressed up like a gunslinger.. careful who hears you talk like that!"

It was Virgil Earp who owned a piece of the Oriental Saloon, not Wyatt.

And it was Virgil who ran into Doc Holliday in another western town and told him Wyatt was in Tombstone. Doc followed Virgil back there.

Virgil's home was directly across the street from Wyatt's. It is now an empty lot.

Morgan didn't die as depicted in "Tombstone". He was shot two months later than the movie indicates. And Doc didn't die in a Colorado sanitorium. According to the Tombstone historical experts, he died in his hotel room.

Although Doc Holliday MAY have been the one to kill Johnny Ringo, no one knows for certain. Ringo was left under a tree, as the movie depicts, but he was partially scalped and those who knew Doc well have said he would not have done that.

The actor who played Virgil in "Tombstone", Sam Elliott, lives within a sixty mile radius of Tombstone, AZ and frequently visits there on his motorcycle. All the locals know him.

The actual "Gunfight At The OK Corral" occured on Fremont Street, in the middle of that street, and not where it is currently being reinacted.

Under "Ostrich Land In No Man's Land", I have added a photo of an emu that I overlooked in the original posting. There are approximately a dozen emus and 20 or so ostrichs there, plus a couple of ponies.

The price of gasoline varied from the low in Virginia Beach to the high in the Mojave Desert, $3.69. The prices are always the highest furthest from the highways, not closest as I and others have thought. I believed "they" got you at the stations built on the Interstate exits, but I found that isn't true. Instead they get you when you have no other choice but to fill 'er up.

There are more pecan farms located on the road to Tombstone and many pistachio and pecan farms in New Mexico.

The land between Capitan and Socorro in New Mexico is known as the outlaw "Billy The Kid's" territory.

Truth or Consequences, New Mexico took that name as the result of an offer made by the producers of the TV show "True or Consequences" that they would pay a town willing to change their name as a promotional gimmick. If you live in N.M., you call it "T or C". The town was originally known as "Hot Springs".

I-40 in Arizona is the Purple Heart Trail.

There are certain views burned into my memory forever. First, and foremost, the view from the top of St. Augustine Pass as you descend into White Sands, New Mexico. I couldn't stop, no pull-offs for photos. It would be worth the cost of hiring a helicopter to hover there for panoramic shots. I looked up a few photos on the 'net and couldn't find even one that delivers the real impact. The view of Verde Valley (and, no, it isn't) as you descend, heading to Sedona, AZ. The first glimpse of Red Rock Country. As you head toward Sedona from Phoenix, it will be on your left. As I've said before, the color doesn't translate. You have to SEE it yourself to believe it. The view of Gulf Breeze and beyond from downtown Pensacola. Tombstone - I felt like I was dreaming. I can see the dust and the cowboys and feel the wind right now. The early evening entrance into Tucson with those amazing "bouquet cactuses" like ghosts in the desert to the north of I-10. The pristine "new" Gulfport, Mississippi... it's so neat and clean, so wiped off the map.

Insofar as cities and towns go, I have my favorites among them. Wrightsville Beach and Wilmington, NC; Charleston, SC; Gulf Breeze, FL; San Antonio, TX; Alamogordo, NM;

Tombstone, AZ; Ventura, CA; and, yes, Nevada City is an interesting little town. I'll show you more of it while I'm here.

I'd have to say in retrospect that while every minute was an adventure, there are some places I won't think about much. That would include the entire state of Louisiana... bless those poor people. When you think about Cajun food, really think about it, you realize that it's food made from "making do". It's a diet born of invention and poverty. Louisiana along the coast has the appearance of grinding poverty, misery, dirt. I will have to see New Orleans restored in order to believe it. I have a lot of respect for the effort put forth by corporate America to schedule NOLA for special events. I have no respect for a government that can't take care of it's citizens in the wealthiest country in the world. I'm disgusted by the promises made and broken to Louisiana's residents.

Mountain Goat

This little boy is a climber.. he loves to cook.. Gramma gave him a wooden kitchen with wooden foods and utensils, pots and pans for Christmas.. he loves cars and trucks and motorcycles.. he would rather be playing in the dirt or in Mama's garden than to be indoors.. he knows what Miner's Lettuce is and he eats it raw, along with Lamb's Ears, fennel, kale, broccoli and other edibles from that garden. He likes chicken but LOVES vegetables and noodles. He drinks oat milk, almond milk, soy milk, goat milk. He has never tasted beef or cured meats. If you give him bread with jam, he eats the jam and gives the bread to Danny... he has a sense of humor..he knows how to pitch a fit, but picks his battles.. his hair has never been cut.. his vocabulary is about a dozen words.. he understands pretty much whatever you say to him and responds accordingly.. "Please close the door" and "Please pick up your toys before you go to bed" ..he has his own bedroom now, with blocks and dinosaurs and cars and airplanes.. he slept in Gramma's bed last night while Mama went dancing.. there's nothing more fascinating to him than a "Pot!".. he can fill and empty them with water and never tire of it. His eyes are dark brown, his skin fair, his checks rosy, his hair a dark blonde in color.. he is loving and shares easily.. laughs easily..

A Whirlwind Named Malakai

My father loved children. He would have been happy with a houseful, I think. But he was satisfied with a little girl to dote on. And he did dote on me, as I did on him. He was 40 years old when I was born. The doctor came out of the delivery room and asked my father what he wanted. Poppa said, "Twin girls!" "Be happy you have one healthy daughter, congratulations!" Thirty seven years later I gave birth to the twin girls Poppa had wanted. He didn't see his grandaughters, but every time I find a penny on the ground I wonder if he's saying hello or if it's Bob checking in. When you have 10 children (8 lived to reach adulthood) as my grandparents did, you look to the older ones to help. My father apparently did his share of "looking after" and loved the youngest child, his baby sister Sa, most of all. I was called "Sa" by my father as often as I was called "Penny". I didn't mind. "Sa" sounds like a "grown-up" name. "Penny" was cute when I was a three foot tall, towheaded curly top who Aunt Paul (Pauline) nicknamed "Poodle", but when you are a 6 foot tall woman, it's vaguely embarrassing. I haven't felt like a "Penny" in almost a half century. Think about that when you name your children, please. I gave my daughters "adult" names as a result... Lucia Louise Emanuela, Jocelyn Bryan, Mary Noel. We call Malakai "Mali" now. I'll make a conscious effort to change that to Mal by the time he's 10 or so. Noel named her daughter Ava Grace. I approve. It's a woman's name. I saw Mali for the first time in 15 months two days ago. To him, I was a stranger. This is where my father's influence comes in... 39 years after his death. Poppa loved children but he always waited for them to come to him. When their parents introduced them, Poppa would say "Hello" and then kept talking to the adults. He wouldn't hug the children or kiss them. He waited. They always came to him. I employed this strategy with my angelic little grandson and... it worked. By dinner time he was sitting in my lap. The photo above with Lucia was taken last summer. The "jam session" photo was taken Wednesday morning. Look at him checking out Gramma! He is considerably less reserved now! He calls his mother "Ma" and me, "Momma". His mother, generously, encourages that.

The Road Home

On the way out of Solvang, I was back on 101, then took CA 46 and 41 to Interstate 5 thru California's farm country which was not new to me. I took it deliberately because, although it is very green, very pastoral and soothing, there wasn't much to distract me from heading straight to my grandson and first born daughter. After settling down for the night in Buellton and thinking about the next day in Solvang, I was just drifting off to sleep when Lucia called me... so excited to learn that I was in CA and only 7 hours from her. I had planned to go on to Carmel, up the Pacific Coast Hwy after Solvang. When I heard her excitement, I decided my wandering was over (temporarily). I wanted to be with my daughter, get to know my grandson, Malakai, and settle into my room. In the course of the day, I saw more wineries and vineyards than I have seen in all the years of my life combined. Then came cattle, more cattle, orange groves so laden with fruit that it covered the bases of many of the trees. That attracted the bees and the bees, too bad for them, covered my windshield by the time I made Stockton. After the orange groves were many miles of flowering trees. I looked for a sign identifying what they were. The flowers were pinkish-white, so I first considered that they were cherries, then apples, finally... I don't know what I was looking at! Whatever they were, if blossoms are an indicator, they'll have a good crop.

Herds of chubby sheep were next, more cattle, more sheep, stockyards and then towns like Stockton and Sacramento. When you make Sacramento, you are an hour and a half from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains where Lucia lives. I stopped to walk Danny as the sun was setting. (See the photo) It brought back the old sailor's advisory:

"Red Sky at Dawning, Sailors, Take Warning; Red Sky at Night, Sailors' Delight"

A sign that the days to come will be Gramma's delight. I met Lucia in Nevada City's interesting downtown. The winding road to her home on the San Juan Ridge is without lights and not navigable by strangers in the dark. Once you arrive there, you are in one of the few remaining areas in the U.S. where people go to bed with the keys in the ignition and the doors to their homes open. Malakai will be 2 on March 3rd. We'll have a party on Sunday and the neighbors will come. Nothing up here has just one purpose and the birthday party will also be an opportunity for the adults to bring food and converse for a few hours. It's well after dark when we arrive there, a wood house reminiscent of the one my children were born into in Virginia. I will see Malakai in the morning. I haven't seen him in 15 months.

Tonight I will go to bed at home... as I have every night of my journey. Home is wherever you are at peace. And my journey will continue in a few months, when I return East by a central route through Colorado. There will be a few side trips from here too, but I am home... with my blood. Thank you for coming with me, all of you who have read this blog. Check back now and then.. I'll have a few entries and I'll leave a heads up for my new adventure in the fall.

Scandinavia In The Santa Ynez Valley

The photographs I'm sharing with you here represent less than 5% of the photo ops in this charming little town. Enjoy the photos and I'll give you the rundown tomorrow.... long day...can't keep my eyes open!

Denmark In California

What an amazing sight! It's a Danish town replicated in the Santa Ynez Valley of California! Why is Solvang so little known? Not many people I talked to about it before my trip began had ever heard of it. What a charmer, just a few miles off Route101. They have a fairly large RV lot with complimentary parking in Solvang and when that closes at 5PM you can drive 2 minutes to their sister city of Buellton and stay at Flying Flags RV Resort. One thing I've always loved about California is it's warm days and deep freeze nights, but I couldn't find a free plug-in for electric and I wasn't about to leave this little gem until I got my fill of it. I broke down and rented space inside the RV park and I'm glad I did. Rates are reasonable, bathrooms are immaculate.. including large showers, there's a pool and after breakfast I'll spend the morning.. or longer.. showing you Solvang. Meanwhile, Nala keeps touching the keyboard of the computer and then looking at me. This cat is a great communicator... she's cold and I'm her bunk mate. Meet me tomorrow night, wherever I am, and you'll see Solvang through my eyes. Goodnight! Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite...