Tucson Rain is not an aftershave.

The problem with exclaiming about rain in Tucson is that everyone in Tucson already knows, and everyone somewhere else doesn't care. In the desert, where you're snuggled up next to creosote bushes, rain smells great. I mean, GREAT.

The downside to three days of clouds is that our solar panels - already taxed by short winter days - are begging for Ecuador. Because our storage capacity is adequate, we still have plenty of power. The batteries just aren't topping off every day like they do in the summer.


We met Jo from Mom's Little Run Away and the Tin Can Cabin for lunch at Coyote Pause Café. It was great to meet you, Jo! We enjoyed our lunch and conversation, and she led us astray into the local artist's consignment shop. My wallet was saved only by feeling faint and needing to sit on the cowboy boot try-on chair, which was far from all the jewelry I was putting my eyeballs on.

Here is a picture I stole outright from Jo:

I mean, I SAW the same rainbow - isn't that close enough? Fine. Go over and tell her what a knavess I am. And, what a cool shot it is.

Yesterday we needed to stop for some Three Dollar Charles and other consumable products. We got sidetracked by this description:

Regan, you adorable single wastrel! Turn around and LOOK AT THE CHUCK!

 

Monsooner or later?

The tricky part of having no sunshine is that the solar panels feel lonely. It's been eleven days since our batteries filled completely, and it's bringing us all down...to the public library where we can surf, type and recharge. We shut down all 110V systems, and all 12V besides the refrigerator. If we don't pull anything during these cloudy days, we can still make juice. But, not juice.

Everything else loves the rain. Listen for the sighs.

Once you're out here, you'll notice other people living "the life." We've run into Gail a couple of times, and another guy who stayed a while down in Willard Springs. Lots of places to be, but no particular hurry to be in them. One fellow lives in a bright yellow bus. Slender man, long, wild, gray hair? Has a dog? Wears his shirt open all the time? I'm describing him so you'll know what to tell the rangers, because Annie looked out the window in our no-neighbors campsite to see him standing and staring at the Duck. Dude. Don't make me load my egg cannon. This is no yolk.

I dreamed it was my son's 21st birthday, and I wrote him an amusing essay about Alexander McCall Smith, who, it turns out, is a very funny, very large, African-American gay man. [Mr. Smith may contact me to smooth out the details of my characterization, of course, but once written on the Internet, good luck with that.] Hope you like it five years ago, Phil!

http://www.aspencountry.com/assets/product_images/garden_fountains.html

Solar ducks are not a bad idea.

Flagstaff is groovy.

BREAKING NEWS: Rain in Flagstaff. We accept it just as if we wanted it.

Lori and I went to Yoga in the Park in her subdivision. It's seductive, this lure of neighborhood parks, block parties, and cultured organized activities. Not seductive: my yoga pants. There's a reason the dog faces downward. The instructor, a lithe, willowy young thing, tried to help us all with our poses, but she had to give up and put her mat next to me. Ma'am, are you crying? What are you doing with your leg? Why is your head like that? Do you want me to call someone?

We all spent a lot of time in downtown Flag (locals don't use the whole word) this weekend, enjoying crafts and arts. I never know the difference. The place feels good.











Arizona Snowbowl (a ski resort) has reached an agreement with the City of Flagstaff to buy its reclaimed sewage water, pipe it to the top of the Peaks, and make fake snow with it. There are environmental concerns, as you might suspect, besides the concept of taking a dump in someone's church and sticking around to pee there all winter long. The Peaks are holy to the Dine', the Hopi, and eleven other tribes.
But, I just said the place has a good vibe, and so it does.

This is not a Steve Martin scimitar. She's actually balancing it on her head.

Seriously? She's balancing it on her head?

We're as languid as slugs on a salt-free cracker. We should move on before a ranger lays down a mineral lick. We have a few ideas:

I can wedge the rig in here.

San Francisco Peaks

Peeking Peak

And, boy howdy! is it raining! 

Did you know this about olive oil?

I got nothing.*

*Not literally true.  I got three.

• If you are looking for a vegan, vegetarian, or veg*n-friendly restaurant, try Happy Cow.  It will also find "health-food stores" for you, if you're in the market for something just off the mainstream.

• Annie just made her first batch of soymilk and okara with our new soy milk maker.  

Step into the milking parlor, soybean.

                                                        

Okara ("honorable pulp") is what's left after you milk the beans. Beans are less-resistant to milking than some cows, and rarely try to kick you, especially once they're honorable pulp. I just sensed an analogy:  when we're done milking cows we turn them into honorable pulp, too. I'm sad now, and I blame you, okara! We use a lot of soymilk, and are open to using okara, so here's our chance.  With soymilk near $6 a gallon, we expect to recoup our investment.

• We also got a little blender, because we were craving smoothies.  

I'm cute, right?

Oh, you guys, it is raining here.  It's been cloudy for hours.  Sorry, I don't mean to be a duck about it, Pacific Northwest.

You Canadian RVers:  do you blog once you get home?  I haven't even met most of you, and I miss you already.