Oh My, It's Hot

Greetings from beautiful downtown Seligman, Arizona, on Historic Route 66, home of the Roadkill Cafe and some really beautiful clouds. I wouldn't be surprised to have the first rain I've experienced since June in Wyoming (in fact, here it comes now).

It's 98 degrees in the shade but I don't care, 'cause I got air conditioning--woohoo--and all the electricity and water my little heart desires. I am a happy camper!

My Las Vegas contact didn't work out: no electricity and temps in triple digits so I had to leave early to find a place where I could run the A/C. Here's my favorite photo from Vegas (click to enlarge to full effect).

What you see here, among other things, is the base of a replica of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Casino, and also an old-world fountain, packed cheek by jowl with other casinos shaped like Greek temples, the New York skyline, the Taj Mahal and other unbelievably tacky things. Check out the number of people on the streets; I think you can tell how hot it is. I drove down the strip and took photos from inside Michelle. Just the thought of trying to find parking and then being out in all that made me sweat (don't believe what you hear about "dry heat"). Been to Las Vegas, don't need to go again.

But I'm supposed to be filling you in on San Francisco, which wasn't hot (I just missed a one-day heat wave, fortunately), and has great public transit so it was easy to see the sights.

Before that, however, there were the Biting Ants of Oakland! OMG, I was so freaked I didn't even think to take photos; all I wanted to do was get the little buggers out of my space! The first day I found a couple inside: no big deal. The next morning one was in my bed and it bit me: still no biggie--one little ant. One day and several bites later I discovered they were coming from the garbage cans I was parked next to (duh) and I realized that squishing them one by one was not going to work; they were in my food boxes and I needed poison, which I hate to use, but I had no choice. The really freaky part was when I saw some crawling on my little Christmas Cactus. Upon closer inspection, the plant was teeming with them, and when I picked up the inner pot and look into the outer pot, it was like something out of science fiction: I've never seen so many ants; the pot was black with them, all running around as fast as their little ant legs would carry them, shouting, "Run for your lives!" They died a horrible death and I felt bad and triumphant at the same time: "Leiningen" writ small.

Here's my favorite shot from my neighborhood walk in Oakland.

This is the tallest corn I've ever seen, and growing in the city! I grew up in Iowa and this stuff made Iowa corn look stunted.

The next day it got really hot in Oakland and since I didn't have electricity, I headed to San Francisco. I was unable to find a contact who had a driveway, SF being what it is, but an RVing Women contact led me to free parking on the street, right on the ocean, on a busline that went downtown and transferred to wherever I wanted to go: all for $2 each way. It had a great time, and because I was living on the cheap I blew $50 on a second balcony ticket to see "Wicked."


Here's one of my favorite SF photos, taken in The Castro; those ladies are no ladies.

Here's another: a "Lila's-eye view" of a crowded Chinatown bus. And no, I was not holding the camera above my head (well maybe just a bit); I was hanging onto a strap, the only 5'10" Anglo on the bus.

From San Francisco I drove to Sacramento for my souvenir Capitol Building postcard (and a tour: The Governator was out); then to Lake Tahoe where I camped in a state park, again without electricity so I couldn't blog; then to Carson City, Nevada, for my souvenir postcard of the Capitol Building (it was Saturday: no tour); then to an overnight stop in Hawthorne, NV, in the parking lot of the El Capitan Resort and Casino (again, no electricity); and finally over Hoover Dam and into Arizona.

It will take the rest of the day, practically, to get a new slide show up and running, and you may not be able to see it until tomorrow, but it's coming. Thanks for sticking around.

Oh, I've also included the following tiny pile of self-absorbed drivel that I wrote longhand during my stay at Lake Tahoe Thursday and Friday of the Labor Day weekend. It's not pretty, but if you want to know what was going on with me then, you can read it when you have absolutely NOTHING ELSE to do. Rest assured, I am way over it, thanks to Eckhart on CD through most of my journey from Lake Tahoe to Seligman.

It’s Labor Day weekend, Friday to be exact, and I’m here in the William Kent Campground for the second night. I’ve been practically alone all day and I guess I thought I would be until my stay is over tomorrow at noon. But lo and behold, the campers are here. Glory be, I think, for now I won’t be alone on Labor Day. Alone on Labor Day, I’m thinking now, how bad can that be? Well, I’ll tell you how bad: it’s the families and their campfires and kids shouting and parents running to and fro carrying the camping gear and the dinner fixin’s and so I go outside with my wine and cheese and crackers I bought from the little store up the road and I think I’ll just watch the action. But I can’t really see very well from this vantage point so I sip my wine and eat my crackers and cheese and read my book. I’m reading ‘Tis by Frank McCourt. It’s the sequel to his Pulitzer-Prize-winning Angela’s Ashes, and in this book he has come back to New York City from Limerick, Ireland, and it’s Christmas. I’ve been in New York City at Christmas so I know what it’s like: it’s fucking gorgeous is what it is. And there’s the hustle and bustle of shopping and visiting friends and family and eating and drinking and parties and presents and family. Only Frank doesn’t have any family and he’s telling about going to mass on Christmas Day and being kicked out of the pew of some rich family by a guy in striped pants and all of a sudden I can’t stand it another minute. I look around at the families enjoying their camping escapade and I want to cry because I remember those camping trips with my daughter and that time is gone. I would call my daughter and tell her how much I miss those camping trips but she’s too busy working (nurses work Labor Day weekend, you know) and she wouldn’t even pick up the fucking phone. So here I am in my little home on wheels pining for days gone by and getting all weepy. I don’t know how much longer I can do this alone. Maybe it’s time for that dog. For sure I should not have had that second glass of wine. And to top it all off I have no fucking electricity so I can’t even watch a movie. I should get the generator fixed but even if I did I’d feel like a fool running it with all these tent campers about. I should go for a walk…

So I walked a big loop to see if I could find someone to take me in and share their campfire. I walked by cars with tents and trucks with campers and people with the kids having dinner or finished, and one group that was obviously a middle-aged couple and someone’s mother, playing cards. I almost stopped but they were so engrossed in their game I didn’t want to interrupt. They were the most likely hosts and so I came home. I noticed that some people in campers were inside like I tend to be most of the time. I think we’ve lost that camping feeling. I know I have but for me I think it’s mostly because I live in here too. Most folks probably wouldn’t think of building a fire in their backyard so they could get that camping feeling, although I do know some people who have fire pits.

So I am going to eat chocolates and read Frank McCourt and hope I don’t get the woozies again. Maybe I should read a different book…