Homeless in 2010

“In a recent approximation USA Today estimated 1.6 million people unduplicated persons used transitional housing or emergency shelters. Of these people, approximately 1/3 are members of households with children, a nine percent increase since 2007. Another approximation is from a study done by the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty which states that approximately 3.5 million people, 1.35 million of them children, are likely to experience homelessness in a given year (National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty, 2007).

According to the Stewart B. McKinney Act, 42 U.S.C. § 11301, et seq. (1994), a person is considered homeless who "lacks a fixed, regular, and adequate night-time residence; and... has a primary night time residency that is: (A) a supervised publicly or privately operated shelter designed to provide temporary living accommodations... (B) An institution that provides a temporary residence for individuals intended to be institutionalized, or (C) a public or private place not designed for, or ordinarily used as, a regular sleeping accommodation for human beings." The term “homeless individual” does not include any individual imprisoned or otherwise detained pursuant to an Act of Congress or a state law." 42 U.S.C. § 11302(c)”

-From the National Coalition for the Homeless

http://www.nationalhomeless.org/factsheets/How_Many.html

In June, 2010 the Associated Press reported that: Total number of homeless individuals drops as family homelessness increases for 2nd year

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/06/16/total-number-homeless-individuals-drops-family-homelessness-increases-nd-year/#ixzz18lJ68hJu

Day to day living

December 11, 2010

Two weeks and two days before Christmas. Living in a motel. Had to get an extra room for all of us and the pets. $122.00 per day. $854.00 per week. This is killing us. But what are the alternatives at this moment? We have no relatives in the area except for Uncle Alan who is 74 years old with multiple health issues and living in a senior apartment complex. Of course, I suppose you could consider my daughter’s father and his wife who also live in the area but he wasn’t there for his children while they were growing up and he hasn’t made a move to help them as adults so he isn’t really an option either. This is why I am here. I may only have a limited income to contribute to this brood but I am here to help with grocery shopping and driving the boys to school and helping with homework. I could walk away and be fine on my own but what would that mean for the rest? Hillary Clinton was right when she said it takes a village.

Mike has returned from his southward journey to offer support and to try and talk his mother into renting us her empty house in Marin. I don’t hold out much hope for the bitch helping in any way. She has already begun the manipulation game with Mike. He is still in the recovery process from his last binge but he is trying. I don’t know where he will go from here but it was gallant of him to return to us in hopes of being a help.
***
December 13, 2010

Two days later now and we are leaving the motel this morning to stay at a friend’s house while my son-in-law drives to the North Bay to work for a few days. Mike’s mother offered us the house at the discount price of $2700.00 a month, with first, last, and deposit upon move in. Needless to say he told her where to put her offer and ended the call. The house is nice but not that nice and she just wants to show how in control she is. He is now in process of writing a letter to her notifying her that he will seek judicial recourse if she does not evict renter in the house they own together so that he can have access to the house. He has asked her repeatedly over the past several years about his living in the house and she has said that it is currently rented. He does not benefit from it being rented. He does not see any of the money. So, he will proceed with a claim of ouster through the court system. The house is a cape cod, brought over from the 1939 World’s Fair held in New York. It sits on the San Francisco Bay and has a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Mike is not with us here. He drove the RV over to Marin to see if he could stay with friends until something positive happens for us here on the Peninsula. We are hoping for a Christmas miracle.
***
December 14, 2010

These kids are champs. They roll with the punches and accept the disappointments and inconveniences of living in first a motel and now at a friend’s. They understand that things are hard right now and they troop on, all with a smile on their face and laughter billowing out around them. They wrote their letters to Santa and sent them off. They know that while Santa will leave something for them wherever they are Mom and Dad may not be able to buy any presents this year. They know that being loved and kept fed and sheltered is enough right now.

We are the lucky ones. How many families are out there with no friends, no jobs, no shelter, and no food? We are grateful for all we have knowing that we are the lucky ones.

The Break-up

Mike left for Yuma yesterday evening. His leaving was actually a three day process. He left on day-1 and called from San Rafael, an hour north from here over the Golden Gate Bridge, to say that he stopped off to see his friend Dave. What this actually meant was that he went to his old stomping grounds to hook up for one last boost of meth. Day-2 he called and said that he would be stopping by to say good-bye one last time before actually heading south. He dropped by but was crashing so hard from the meth high that he was nearly incoherent. He laid down minutes after arriving here and didn’t make an appearance until yesterday, day-3. I was on my way back from taking the older boys to school and picking up diapers when he called to say he was leaving again. We said our good-byes over the phone and he was pulling out of the drive as I pulled in and we waved in parting. Later in the day, walking to pick the boys up from school I called Mike to see how far he had gotten. Not far at all. He was a mere mile or so away picking up organic apples at Molly Stones and would drop them off on his way out of town and he said he would call in the morning. I didn’t see him this time around; I did get the apples he left in the trunk of the trailer. So, when I say that Mike left for Yuma yesterday evening I am speculating. I will give him a call later this morning and will find out then.
I wish him the best. We broke up. Or is it a Rachel and Ross “taking a break” kind of thing? I am sure he will be back at some point but will there be any point in resuming a relationship that was lost among the ruins of addiction and codependency? So, I wish him the best as he tries to mend his relationship with his mother and to heal the hurt inside of him. Me, I will go on as I always do, meeting the challenges of the day and looking for a way to heal myself and continue my search for a place to call home.

"I Am An Emotional Creature"

The following excerpt is from the new work "I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE: The Secret Life of Girls around the World" by Eve Ensler. The book is exceptional, breathtaking, and a must read for every female, for every emotional creature.

I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE

I love being a girl.
I can feel what you're feeling
as you're feeling it inside
the feeling
before.
I am an emotional creature.
Things do not come to me
as intellectual theories or hard-shaped ideas.
They pulse through my organs and legs
and burn up my ears.
I know when your girlfriend's really pissed off
even though she appears to give you what
you want.
I know when a storm is coming.
I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air.
I can tell you he won't call back.
It's a vibe I share.

I am an emotional creature.
I love that I do not take things lightly.
Everything is intense to me.
The way I walk in the street.
The way my mother wakes me up.
The way I hear bad news.
The way it's unbearable when I lose.

I am an emotional creature.
I am connected to everything and everyone.
I was born like that.
Don't you dare say all negative that it's a
teenage thing
or it's only only because I'm a girl.
These feelings make me better.
They make me ready.
They make me present.
They make me strong.

I am an emotional creature.
There is a particular way of knowing.
It's like the older women somehow forgot.
I rejoice that it's still in my body.

I know when the coconut's about to fall.
I know that we've pushed the earth too far.
I know my father isn't coming back.
That no one's prepared for the fire.
I know that lipstick means
more than show.
I know that boys feel super-insecure
and so-called terrorists are made, not born.
I know that one kiss can take
away all my decision-making ability
and sometimes, you know, it should.

This is not extreme.
It's a girl thing.
What we would all be
if the big door inside us flew open.
Don't tell me not to cry.
To calm it down
Not to be so extreme
To be reasonable.
I am an emotional creature.
It's how the earth got made.
How the wind continues to pollinate.
You don't tell the Atlantic ocean
to behave.

I am an emotional creature.
Why would you want to shut me down
or turn me off?
I am your remaining memory.
I am connecting you to your source.
Nothing's been diluted.
Nothing's leaked out.
I can take you back.

I love that I can feel the inside
of the feelings in you,
even if it stops my life
even if it hurts too much
or takes me off track
even if it breaks my heart.
It makes me responsible.
I am an emotional
I am an emotional, devotional,
incandotional, creature.
And I love, hear me,
love love love
being a girl.

Motel living

Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is just around the corner. Here we are living in Belmont’s Motel 6-3 adults, 6 kids, 2 dogs, and a cat-waiting to hear from home applications. The space we occupy is not big by any means but we do have an efficiency kitchen so meals are cheaper than having to eat out. I say three adults because even though Mike is here with us he tends to sleep in the RV. Mike is still in stages of detox and his irritability fuse is short. Then again, my irritability fuse, when it comes to his irrational and self-centered behavior, is also incredibly short.

Today Mike and Bill have driven to Tahoe to empty our post office box and pick up Mike’s birthday and Christmas checks from his mother and his last unemployment check. They expect to return this evening unless the weather prohibits travel. Mike will then leave here and head to Yuma, Arizona to spend some time with his mother. He will be gone at least two weeks and possibly through the New Year. He is going to attempt to mend his fences with her and to come to agreeable terms where their joint home ownership and joint bank accounts are concerned. I have to admit that having him gone for a while will be a nice break.

Mike is a truly generous and caring man. But, he does come with hang-ups, as we all do. One of his hang-ups is his bitterness over his childhood and the harsh discipline he endured at the hands of his mother and the fact that she chased his father-the loving, affectionate parent-away. He is jealous of the way that I love my children and my grandchildren and complains (whines) about it often. He loves my children and my grandchildren but he does not want to have to share my affection with anyone. When he is actively using he is seldom around, in fact he does not want to be around anyone during that time, but when he is clean he is very demanding of my time and my attentions. I give what I can till I have little left and still am expected to give more. I am coming to the end of my give a damn and this coming break will do me good.

California

November is half over and it is getting cold outside. In the past month we have traveled through Oregon, Nevada, and today into California. My daughter and her family returned to California from Kansas this week. Kansas did not meet expectations. Once you have lived in California it is hard to live anywhere else. California is a land of beauty, not just in landscape but in people. The diversity of nature and of culture is alive and thriving in California. It is a place where it is okay to be a bit different, to lean toward nonconformity, to wear white after Labor Day.

*** *** ***

One week before Thanksgiving. Grateful for family. Grateful to have roof over my head, our heads, and food in the cupboards and refrigerator. Grateful for the good health of all I love. Grateful for the strength of character exhibited by my very fabulous children. Grateful for the love I am surrounded by and cushioned by each and every day. Grateful to live in this country, with all its faults and all its wonders.

November

November is almost half over and it is getting cold outside. In the past month we have traveled through Oregon, Nevada, and today into California. My daughter and her family returned to California from Kansas a week ago now. Kansas did not meet expectations. Once you have lived in California it is hard to live anywhere else. California is a land of beauty, not just in landscape but in people. The diversity of nature and of culture is alive and thriving in California. It is a place where it is okay to be a bit different, to lean toward nonconformity, to wear white after Labor Day.

I have an extreme case of writer’s block lately but I did find this great blog page about California and wanted to share it.

http://geotripper.blogspot.com/2010/06/now-this-is-why-i-love-california.html

With any luck, and some inspiration, I will be back with an original blog any day now.

Marin

I am writing today from the Marin County Library located in the Civic Center building off San Pedro Road in San Rafael, California. Mike and I are here on business, Mike’s business. We have been here for five days now and he still hasn’t conducted any business. Marin County is not the place to boondock. We have spent two nights in the Sausalito dock parking lot, two nights in Marinwood, and one night in a Travelodge in Novato. Tonight we most likely park outside the Loch Lomond Yacht Club where our RV won’t look so out of place among some other RVs parked there. This is a tiring life. I am tired. I want to settle somewhere for just a little while, or perhaps a long while.

Patty Smith sings that “love just ain't enough,” and she is right. Love doesn’t keep you warm and fuzzy at night. Not when the love is lost in a haze of drink or drugs. Mike is an addict. Damn, how I hate that word. There is a one liner that says “I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a drunk, alcoholics go to meetings.” Does that hold true for addicts? Does an addict go to meetings and the rest are tweakers, cransters, rock hounds? I spent many years as an alcohol and drug counselor and am the last one that can help Mike now. So, I stand outside looking in. Or trying to because anyone who has lived with an alcoholic or an addict knows that no matter that Alanon tells you to stand back with love and don’t let the other person’s drinking and drugging control you it does affect you. Deeply. Darkly. How do you stand back with love while the one you love is committing slow suicide physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially? I know that I have a choice to stay or to leave. I also know that this is easier said than done. I know that this is a decision I must soon make, the decision to leave. Hoping that he will miraculously decide to stop using is just that-hoping. Wishing him to be the man I met and fell in love with is wishful thinking and deluded thinking because the man that he was is still inside him, he is just hidden behind this wall of drink and drug. So, my bags are packed waiting for me to at last pick them up and travel on alone.

My favorite passage from Melody Beattie's Language of Letting Go.

Letting Go of Those Not in Recovery

We can go forward with our life and recoveries, even though someone we love is not yet recovering.

Picture a bridge. On one side of the bridge it is cold and dark. We stood there with others in the cold and darkness, doubled over in pain. Some of us developed an eating disorder to cope with the pain. Some drank; some used other drugs. Some of us lost control of our sexual behavior. Some of us obsessively focused on addicted people's pain to distract us from our own pain. Many of us did both: we developed an addictive behavior, and distracted ourselves by focusing on other addicted people. We did not know there was a bridge. We thought we were trapped on a cliff.

Then, some of us got lucky. Our eyes opened, by the Grace of God, because it was time. We saw the bridge. People told us what was on the other side: warmth, light, and healing from our pain. We could barely glimpse or imagine this, but we decided to start the trek across the bridge anyway.

We tried to convince the people around us on the cliff that there was a bridge to a better place, but they wouldn't listen. They couldn't see it; they couldn't believe. They were not ready for the journey. We decided to go alone, because we believed, and because people on the other side were cheering us onward. The closer we got to the other side, the more we could see, and feel, that what we had been promised was real. There was light, warmth, healing, and love. The other side was a better place.

But now, there is a bridge between those on the other side and us. Sometimes, we may be tempted to go back and drag them over with us, but it cannot be done. No one can be dragged or forced across this bridge. Each person must go at his or her own choice, when the time is right. Some will come; some will stay on the other side. The choice is not ours.

We can love them. We can wave to them. We can holler back and forth. We can cheer them on, as others have cheered and encouraged us. But we cannot make them come over with us.

If our time has come to cross the bridge, or if we have already crossed and are standing in the light and warmth, we do not have to feel guilty. It is where we are meant to be. We do not have to go back to the dark cliff because another's time has not yet come.

The best thing we can do is stay in the light, because it reassures others that there is a better place. And if others ever do decide to cross the bridge, we will be there to cheer them on.

Today, I will move forward with my life, despite what others are doing or not doing. I will know it is my right to cross the bridge to a better life, even if I must leave others behind to do that. I will not feel guilty. I will not feel ashamed. I know that where I am now is a better place and where I'm meant to be.

From The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie ©1990, Hazelden Foundation. __________________
You've got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You're gonna find, yes, you will
That you're beautiful as you feel
~Carole King~

(This is what I am working on right now-gathering the courage to cross the bridge leaving another behind)

Where do I live now?

Where do I live now? I live nowhere and everywhere. In the past three months I have traveled through California’s Central Coast, San Diego Mountains, to Yuma, Arizona, back through the Sierra Nevada’s, and up through Nevada to the wild north of Idaho. I have lived in a nineteen foot travel trailer with my daughter, her husband, their six children, two dogs, and a cat, several anonymous motel rooms, and as of this moment a thirty foot motor home with Mike in South Lake Tahoe.

Moving around is not new to me. I have lived in too many places to name, moving because of love; domestic violence; divorce; school; or economic reasons. Six bedroom houses; cold dark cabins; weekly motel rooms; assorted campgrounds and rest areas; trailers, tents, and RVs. These are the places I have called home, sometimes alone, most often with some or all of my children and lately my grandchildren.

I long for a place to rest my weary self; tired of roaming, I long for a place to call home. I yearn for a room of my own, one strewn with books, writing tablets, and pens; a room in which beads (I love beads and fringe) sing in the breeze, candles flicker in the dusk and dawn, and Kohl and Gigi lounge languidly alongside me.

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title. Virginia Woolf

I was born in San Francisco

I was born in San Francisco. I always thought that I should be someone special to have been born in a place so magical, so full of life’s mysterious and sultry style. I always thought that, then I grew up and decided that I wasn’t special. In fact, I was rather the downside of ordinary. That is how I felt for a very long time. Teasing and bullying on the playground gave way to verbal and physical abuse in my relationships with men. I never thought that I deserved the teasing, the bullying, the abuse but it was there and it took its toll on me. I didn’t ask to be burned, to be turned into a “crispy critter” as the other children referred to me. I didn’t know who I was other than that monstrous looking creature other people were sure to see when they looked at me. So, I grew a thick skin, I brushed my hair over my face, covered my body in layers of clothes, and learned how to laugh at myself before anyone else had the chance. I grew bold and took risks that I shouldn’t have as a teenager. I left home at the age of seventeen to live on my own, to make my own decisions –right or wrong. Today I live with the results of the decisions I have made over the years. Today I still feel the downside of ordinary, nothing special. The specialness that could possibly have been part of me is only seen in my children. The intellect I could have been, the bold and assertive woman, the loving yet disciplinary mother, and the socially adept individual. These traits and more are found in my children. I long to channel these traits and perhaps one day I will, but for now I live in a cluttered numbness in which my feet and my mind stumble about lost.

Hell's Canyon

We drove through California, Nevada, Oregon, and into Idaho in the last three weeks. We entered the state of Idaho through the south end traveling north on Highway 95. It was a long drive from Nampa, Idaho, in the South, to our destination of Naples, about fifteen miles from the Canadian border. We traveled through small towns and smaller towns. The countryside rolled and rose around us. The highlight of the trip had to be the drive through Hell’s Canyon along the Salmon River. It was breathtaking.

We arrived at Mike’s father’s home, in Naples, close to 11:00 p.m on Saturday, September 11. I stayed in the RV while Mike said hello to his father for the first time in fifteen years. It was an emotional moment for both, a joyful moment. They talked late into the night while I slept. Once the talking was finished for the night Mike came to bed and couldn’t stop talking about the experience, the happiness and the relief he felt being with his father again. He has been longing for parental acceptance. Who can’t understand that?

My own parents were the best. Simply the best. I am sure that they had issues and I know that I didn’t always listen or appreciate them but I always knew that I had their love and that they “had my back.” No matter the wrong directions my life often times went they accepted me and loved and supported me. I know that Mike longs for that same feeling of affection and acceptance from a parent. He is hoping that he has found that in his father because he knows no matter how hard he works at it he will not get these from his mother. I wish him the best.

***

September 24 found us in Tahoe. It seems somehow we always end up back here in Tahoe. Don’t get me wrong, it is an utterly beautiful spot, but that does not mean that the experience is just as lovely as the scenery. Tahoe is a transient town. It is a small town where when you turn around you bump into someone you know, even if you wish you didn’t. Tahoe is a town that has as many DEA agents running around as city police. Tahoe, and I should make it clear, South Lake Tahoe is home to more than its share of meth manufacturers and meth dealers. It is a town with a 17.7 % unemployment rate as compared to the national average of 9.6 %. For all its scenic splendor South Lake Tahoe is a city in distress. Too much unemployment and too many illegal, immoral, or unhealthy avenues of escape.

Hopefully we will only be here in town for a few days. We have had to change our plans time and again and now we changed them again. We arrived in Tahoe last night after driving down from Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho. The week we spent in Idaho was relaxing and refreshing. It was also productive. Mike finally managed to rearrange all the storage bins and put things away that he had cluttering up the living space of the RV. He also spent quality time with his father and has come away with a renewed sense of purpose and self.

While in Tahoe I have been able to visit my second daughter and her husband and my three granddaughters. It has been a good visit. My granddaughters are all gorgeous and bright. The oldest will be fourteen in November; the other two are eleven and nine. They are all good students and involved in school clubs and the Boys and Girls Club. The second one plays the violin and the youngest will start an instrument next year. Yesterday the two oldest volunteered to help give water to marathon runners in exchange for donations to Club Life.

We move on to the coast by the end of the week and some business to deal with in Marin County. I will miss my daughter and her family here in Tahoe as I miss my youngest daughter and her family now in Kansas, my son in West Virginia, and my oldest daughter in San Francisco. It seems like so long ago that they were children and home with me. I miss the laughter, the squabbles, the tears, and the love.

On the move

Yuma, Arizona to Buellton, California on Sunday. It was a long hot drive but we made it. We stopped at Anderson’s Pea Soup where we had their famous pea soup and a salad then spent the night in their parking lot. The pea soup was too salty for my taste and in the morning it sat heavy upon my stomach. Anderson’s soup in the can is much better than what is served at their restaurant. The bread they served, a cheesy white bread and pumpernickel, weren’t very impressive either.

In the morning we headed up the coast toward Santa Cruz where we picked up a friend going to Marin County. We also stopped at a couple of roadside veggie stands and bought some Swiss chard, sweet onions, and garlic to sauté and toss with pasta, and some sweet corn and artichokes. From there we hit the 17 to 101 again and made our way over the Golden Gate Bridge and into Marin County. We dropped our friend off downtown and made our way to one of the small boat docks in Loch Lomond to park and sleep for the night. We stayed in Marin for three nights while we rested, took care of some business, hit the county library for some books, and planned our next route.

From Marin we traveled through Tahoe and Carson City and at the time of this writing we are outside of Lovelock, Nevada. My partner, Mike, is taking a nap before we head off again, north toward our next destination, Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho. That is where Mike’s father lives. Mike hasn’t seen his farther for fifteen years or so. They both moved around a lot at that time and somehow lost track of one another. They reconnected a year ago and have been talking on the phone regularly and now it is time we traveled to see him. He is 81 this year and it is important for Mike to make the trip and spend some time with his father.

While in Yuma, Mike saw his mother. They have been estranged for the last year and he was hoping that a visit would bring them back together but it didn’t, it only served to complete the break. His mother is a manipulator; she uses her money as a way to control people in her life. She is also an alcoholic and sometime drug user. She is also clearly bi-polar with very distinct and rapid mood swings. She will control you or she won’t allow you into her life. She treats Mike as if he was still twelve years old and would prefer that he stay single and by her side the rest of her life, or the rest of his, whichever comes first. She gives gifts to others only to take them back if she doesn’t get her way and she can be vicious in her attacks, even when she has another do the attacking for her. An example of this is a message left on my cell phone recently. She doesn’t do her own calling but has friends call for her demanding that Mike call immediately. As I already mentioned they have been estranged for a while now and Mike calls much less frequently than he once did. She wants him to call at least twice a day, every day, and when this stopped she grew furious. She considers it my fault that he doesn’t call, she blames me saying that I am controlling him and keeping him away from her. The message on my cell only reinforced this thinking of hers. She had her friend call to threaten me with bodily harm if I did not have Mike call immediately. My phone hadn’t been on in a month so I didn’t hear the message until after Mike and I got to Yuma and stopped in to see her friend. This woman was all sugar and sweetness while we were there and telling us all the rotten things his mother had been up to lately. She was on the outside of Mike’s mother’s circle this week because she refused to do her bidding the week before. Once the visit was over and we were back at our motel I turned the phone on and listened to the messages and this is when I heard the threat. My blood ran cold at how menacing and calculating his mother could be. I could hear her voice in the background feeding words to her friend who spouted threat after threat at me over the phone. Mike listened to it and tried to assure me that it was all just words with no intent to back it up but the damage was done. Whatever happens in the future between Mike and his mother there can never be a truce between his mother and me. I have saved the message to my phone and will record it onto my laptop to save. Should I receive another one of these messages I have told Mike that I will make a police report.

So, now I am up to date on our travels and what is happening with us to date. I will continue to post as often as possible given the absence of ready internet access. We will be in Idaho sometime tonight. We will stay a week or so before we head south and east toward Kansas our next planned destination.

Lake Elsinore

Lake Elsinore, California. One-hundred and six degrees when we pulled into the campsite on Thursday before noon and it was just after 3:00 p.m. when thunder and lightning accompanied by rain with the possibility of flash flooding greeted us. After three weeks on the sandy, salty, beach I took three showers that afternoon to ease the blistering heat and to wash the salt out of my hair and the sand out of my ears. We stayed the night is a city campground and though it is well maintained it costs $30 a night. There are hook ups for electricity and water and there are free showers there as well but even though the campground is within walking distance of Lake Elsinore the beach has been fenced off and to reach it one must drive elsewhere to access it.

My daughter, her husband, and the kids were about fifteen miles away from there, in Perris, California, at his Grandmother’s home visiting for a few days. We didn’t want to impose so we decided to find a camp site and wait for them to join us. But at that cost we went looking for somewhere else to park for the night the next night and ended up at the Pechanga Casino, in Temecula, fifteen or so miles down I-15, where we were able to enjoy the air-conditioning of the casino during the heat of the day and the free parking lot during the night. That first night at the casino we went in and got a player’s card and received $10 in free play which we were able to double and walk out with in cash. There is clearly an art to boon docking and time will tell if we have a talent for it.

Don’t try to find a truck stop between Pismo Beach and here, there aren’t any. We drove down Highway 101 south through Santa Barbara, then Ventura, Oxnard, and Malibu before turning inward toward Los Angeles. We looked for a Flying J or a Love’s but the only thing we found was a Shell station in Thousand Oaks with a clerk kind enough to let us park for the night in his lot as long as we were gone by 6:00 a.m. We continued on in the early morning leaving the H-101 for the H-405 south, H-91 east, I- 5 south, and finally SR-74 east to Perris. Lake Elsinore is off of SR-74 going west toward San Juan Capistrano.

From Lake Elsinore we wound our way through the hills of Northern San Diego County spending each night in the parking lot of a different casino. Each casino we stopped at we got a new player’s card and either $10 or $20 dollars in play or a buffet ticket. Never did we have to spend more than a dollar of our own money other than for a tip. I hadn’t realized how many reservations existed within California, and there are so many right in this one area. In fact, “San Diego County has more Indian reservations than any other county in the United States. However, the reservations are very small, with total land holdings of just over 124,000 acres, or about 193 square miles of the 4,205 square miles in San Diego (http://www.sandiego.edu/nativeamerican/reservations.html ).”

Today we drove into Yuma, Arizona, where my partner’s mother lives. It was 115 degrees today and the weekend doesn’t look much cooler. We are staying at Motel 6 tonight while he visits with his mother. Kohl, our cat, is delighted to be out of the hot RV. He alternates between hiding under the bed and sitting on top of the air conditioner. We don’t know how long we will stay here in Yuma before we head out and don’t have any definite plans after this. We do want to see Slab City, outside of Niland, California, so we may head back that way for a few days. For tonight the AC and a cool shower are enough to think about and take pleasure in.