What's in your bucket?

You might say I’ve had some idle time since retiring.  It hasn’t all been traveling, remodeling, and hobnobbing, so in those moments of silent reflection, there are bucket list thoughts that slip in and out.  But a list has never revealed itself on paper.  So with this in mind, as we were cruisin’ on the Harley on Highway 1, along the central California coast this afternoon, between Big Sur and San Simeon, it dawned on me that my bucket list has been more an accumulation of activities that grew in appreciation after the fact.  For example, building the earth contact house in the mid 80’s on our own (for the most part) seemed to be quite an accomplishment and really couldn’t appreciate it until after the fact and knowing it hasn’t fallen down yet or caught on fire!  So that was a bucket lister.  Rafting the Grand Canyon on the Colorado River was special, but again, its significance didn’t really soak in until afterwards.  So, another addition to the bucket.  Today, while riding Highway 1 on my motorcycle, it too was added to the list post haste.  Since I don’t do motorcycle stunts, race motorcycles, or build them, riding them in really cool places will suffice and so is added to the list.  Others on my list are teaching for 29 years (and enjoying most of it), being at the Masters Golf Tournament, having a few rounds of golf under 80, riding our motorcycles to Maine for a lobster dinner with Stuart, Jeff and Ed (then turning around and coming back), fishing for walleye in a slice of heaven in Canada, and retiring at age 50 years 9 months, and I’ll spare you the minutes and seconds.  Not a bad highlights reel!  I think I will put pen to paper sometime, during one of those moments of silent reflection, and try to assemble a more complete bucket.  Until then, I will continue to do stuff, and after the fact be amazed by some of it, add it to my bucket, and repeat.

Words cannot describe.

Still, no words.

Once in awhile when staring down a naughty expectation, I would get a knee
squeeze from the back seat and that put me back in the moment.  Thanks, Beth
for my squeezes!

My Zen from the Road:  Expectations suck.  I know this, but they continually rise up and tweak me on occasion.  Today I had high hopes of Highway 1, this smooth ribbon of highway that clings to the coastline, overlooking the vast Pacific Ocean…what motorcyclist’s dream of.  Well, the road wasn’t smooth, it did cling to the coastline most of the time, and it did overlook the vast Pacific Ocean (when the fog wasn’t coving it up), so was it the ride of a lifetime?  It was a bucket lister, so yes it was, but I had to work at it.  So that “be here”, “live in the moment” stuff…helped make it to the bucket.  Occasionally the traffic disappeared and it seemed like we were all alone.  The fog lifted and dispersed for our return trip home, and the rough road…hell, the road is built on the side of cliffs and mountains, what should I expect…  Hah!  That’s right, I shouldn’t.

The Central Coast

When we told friends we were house sitting again and this time it was in Los Osos, California, they would follow-up with, “Where’s that?”  Well, I’d come back with, “Do you know where San Louis Obispo is?”  They’d respond, “No.”  Then I would finish with, “It’s about 2 hours north of LA.” and that usually ended that Geography Bee.  Now that I am here, I am learning the area we are in is part of the central coast…that area between San Francisco and Los Angeles.  The coastline, full of tiny towns and big scenery, like San Simeon (The Hurst Castle), Big Sur, Pismo Beach, Carmel, and Monterey.  And meandering along the coastline is Highway 1, a serpentine path that is a mecca for curve driving lovers, like motorcyclists.  I am shooting to cross that one off my bucket list shortly.

When we first signed on to TrustedHouseSitters.com to start this housesitting gig last year, one goal was to find one close to my sister, Betty, in Morro Bay, CA.  We missed one that was actually in Morro Bay, due to timing, but this one is just minutes away in the next little town south of her.  Los Osos, which roughly means “the bears,” helps explain that while on a recent walk down to the bay, we came across some art that has spread throughout the county.  Bear cows or cow bears or bows…whatever…they are similar to what Kansas City and other cities around the country have done, where artists put their spin on a statue that there are many of, then they are seen throughout the community.  In this case, a statue of a creature that is bear on the top half and cow on the bottom.  Hopefully before our time is over here, we will find out more about these bearows.  But at one time, a very long time ago, grizzly bears roamed freely in this part of the central coast, thus the name…Los Osos.

A newly erected paddle boarding bearcow
on the art scene in Baywood Park.

With my tonsil-less throat continuing to recover and the energy to explore our temporary home returning, we have been venturing out from the three cats we are caring for to discover why my sister has been here over 25 years.  Other than what seems to be consistent drought conditions, the weather here is really pleasant, coming from the heat of the Midwest.  50’s at night and 70’s during the day, the coast seems like the perfect place to be.  Inland a few miles and the heat intensifies significantly, so we will hug the coast as much as we can.  So far our days consist of walks around the neighborhood, usually past the bay (of Morro Bay) and checking out one of the many farmers markets…there is one almost everyday of the week within a reasonable distance.  And then yesterday, we headed up the coast to Cayucos, just a few miles away, to listen to a Bob Marley tribute band playing on the beach.  The activities in the area seem to be endless and with Cal Poly Tech (California Polytechnic State University) in San Louis Obispo, the college scene only compounds our choices.  With a number of golf courses within reach and hiking and bicycle trails nearby, festivals and scenery to take in, there will be no shortage of options.

A little reggae on the beach

One local option we finally explored yesterday was visiting the Elfin Forest.  Not the "F"-ing Forest, like it sounds.  No, the E l f in forest, elf-like small elusive, human-like creature elves...that kind of Elfin.  Anyway, if you walk seven blocks west of us, you run into the bay.  if you walk 4 blocks north of us, you run into the bay as well, but before you do, you must pass through the Elfin Forest.  You might surmise this forest is for small creatures, making it a smallish forest, but still unique.  The pictures describe it better than my words.

The path to the Elfin Forest...Morro Bay in the distance.

Doesn't look like much of a forest, huh?

But once inside these special areas you can appreciate the uniqueness.

The scrubby little wiry oaks provide a neat cover to disappear into.

We released the motorcycle from its cocoon in the trailer yesterday so we could take it up to the concert.  And while riding it up highway one, next to the beaches, I realized this was a bonus to my bucket list.  Riding Highway 1, on my motorcycle.  I’ve driven it in a car before, but if you love curves in a beautiful setting, other than Colorado, this ranks right up there to me.  And to do it on two wheels is just sooo….mmmmmmm!  Stay tuned.

Heading back from the concert on the beach along a stretch of heaven.

A sunset view from Betty's.

My Zen from the Road:  I’m learning (slowly but surely) that part of this whole housesitting thing isn’t just about going to explore new places, but the people that are part of this journey.  We are sitting for Mimi, who at this point in her life is an artist, but has such an interesting background.  Paula (pronounced Pow-la), a tenant of Mimi’s who occupies a small space in Mimi’s backyard and who owns her own beauty salon in town.  And even the nice folks that say hi to us on our walks each day.  This house sitting is a package deal and the more we do it, the more we get out of the package

My name is Wallie Montoya, you killed my tonsils, prepare to die…

Who gets their tonsils out 3 days before driving to the west coast, while assuming everything you read about the pain won’t happen to you?  This guy!!!  Yes my family, I pulled one over on you, but the jokes on me.  When you thought I sounded like I had a cold and I didn’t refute the idea…I had a little secret.

Over a year ago, I thought about the whole tonsillectomy idea (again) for just about every reason why they are taken out of ones body to begin with.  Over time, I felt as though they had gotten larger and just maybe if they went AWOL, I would benefit from not revisiting many of the common symptoms tonsils can reveal.  I found an ENT and scheduled the day…last Monday. 

In the meantime, I was doing a long-term sub job for a friend (that began with the first day of school), preparing for a road trip west, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst with this tonsil removal idea.  Okay, I really didn’t prepare for the worst specifically…because even though people can share their post tonsillectomy pain experiences, I don’t think there is anything that could have prepared me.  And maybe if I ignore it, it will be fine.  Since Tonsil Day, I kept thinking about the movie, Princess Bride…(one of the best movies…evvvverrr!)

To the pain

Westley: To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.

Prince Humperdinck: And then my tongue I suppose, I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.

Westley: I wasn’t finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right.

Prince Humperdinck: And then my ears, I understand let’s get on with it.

Westley: Wrong! Your ears you keep and I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, “Dear God! What is that thing,” will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.

So that is where I am now, wallowing in freakish misery forever, or at least until I can swallow again and pound down gobs of food without tears, or any food without tears for that matter. 

Descriptions like, “swallowing razorblades” and…well, “swallowing more razorblades” are the only descriptions I have to share, but I continue to hold out that The Pain will subside and gobs of food will be pounded down once again.  Until then, the bubbling in my intestines from the lack of food reminds me, its not over til it’s over.  And according to the source of all info, the internet, it’s a com’in!  So, I hang on to the knot I’ve tied to the end of my rope.  To be continued.

Beth and I set out for a long awaited housesit in California, close to my sister Betty, the Thursday after that little tonsil thing above.  The first day was so reminiscent of the numerous trips to Colorado in recent years, or at least until we got up early on the second day and drove another 700 miles to Vegas, and then another half day to the coast, a few hours north of LA.  Our bums are happy to not be bearing the weight during more road time, so as we settle in, I’ll let you digest your empathy for me and my pain as Beth and I become Los Osos’ns…or what not.

My Zen from the Road:  Pain is a funny thing (funny in the none funny sense of the word).  Maybe not so much funny as it is relative.  Anyway, we all experience it.  Some more emotional, some more physical, and so on and so on.  This whole tonsil pain, though not constant, seems constantly there.  At least it doesn't hurt unless I swallow, at least in my short experience at it.  Did you know that (according to my Google research for the last two minutes) an average adult swallows anywhere between 600 - 2000 times a day?  Lets say, for my purposes, that it is a mere 100 times a day.  Each of those 100 times is almost too much for me to bear, until I come back to that "relative" thing.  My little swallowing pain, which seems almost impossible to bear, is probably insignificant to those with "real" pain, caused from who knows what horrendous source.  I think of that frequently...600-2000 times a day...and it makes it possible for me to quickly grimace and bear it one more time, cause my pain-less time is coming and there's may not.

Some random photos from the 1800 mile trek to the Golden State

Leaving Kansas City bright and early, we were treated to a little sunrise that
said..."Good luck with those tonsils, buddy!"

Our horse and wagon for this trek across country.  Taking a break in Kansas.

Some western Kansas eye candy!

Leaving Colorado behind, Utah's landscape became more of a moonscape.
Still eye-catching, but not in the Colorado sense.

Lots of colors in the landscape palette, as we head southwest to Vegas.

A rest stop view.

A small wildfire!  Probably no such thing as a "small" wildfire.

First view of downtown Vegas as we get close in on our first AirBnB experience.

Solar Power just after crossing the California border.  Three of these ginormous
mirrored fields, all pointing to the solar collector tower that I am guessing you
should not look directly at the tower...even from miles away, while driving.

We came across this small area, yet highly densely populated with these old
"grasshopper" oil well pumps.  Looked like a race to see who could get the
oil out first.

Two and a half days of being grateful I was not a pioneer back in the day, we
stand with the Pacific lapping at our ankles.  Made it!