In case you’re new to my blog or you’ve been away, the crew and I are spending the summer in Arizona in our recently purchased home to be shared with my sister, Nancy, beginning in August. Reggie, Roger, and I will return to RVing with the Best Little Trailer and the Perfect Tow Vehicle sometime in the future.
In the meantime I’m inserting photos of previous camps as I write about our life in Arizona.
Today’s photos feature Wetmore Campground in eastern Oregon.
Wetmore Campground is one of three, inexpensive campgrounds along Route 26 between John Day and Unity, Oregon, in the Blue Mountains of Wallowa-Whitman National Forest.
Bridget, Reggie and I camped there in the month of August and we had the entire campground to ourselves!
You can read about the three campgrounds at my August 2015 post, “Oregon, Yellow Pine, and Wetmore Campgrounds.”
Thursday, June 21, in Arizona
Oh, I have to tell you about a big event that occurred recently!
As reported on this blog, I’ve been loading up the Perfect Tow Vehicle with lawn debris, household trash, and various junk left behind by the previous owner, and hauling it all to the transfer station.
After getting rid of two full loads — and the PTV packed to the ceiling is a LOT of trash — I decide the time has come to assume the last indicator of home ownership.
Regular trash pick-up!
I read the phone number off a neighbor’s green bin set out along the street and make the call. Soon I’m delivered a very large, green bin-on-wheels of my own.
You might not think this is a big deal. Maybe you rolled your eyes or even snorted at the exclamation point (above).
Well, let me point out something.
I’ve been on the road with my crew for over six years, camping mostly in places with very little or absolutely no amenities.
One of the first things to master at a new boondock, besides finding a decent-size grocery store, a drinking water spigot, and a propane dealer, is where to get rid of one’s trash.
Not always easy to do.
Once that’s figured out, one has to transport one’s trash and dump it.
So, yes, having a truck come by and pick up our trash qualifies as A Really Big Event.
$24 a month for once-a-week pickup. I go online, open the email from the refuse company, follow the link provided, and set up my account. I pay for two month’s service.
I bet you think that’s the end of me trash talking, don’t you.
Oh, no. There’s more.
In anticipation of trash pickup the following morning, I set about filling up my bin. First I heave in a large lawn-and-leaf bag filled with pine needles and some kind of miserable little plants that put out miniature daggers that stick into paws. (I would like to keep the pine needles for mulch but that will spread the misery around.)
On top of that big bag I place three smaller kitchen bags. Since there’s still room, I bag up more of the pine needles and miserable plants and place that on top. I have to press on the lid to make it close all the way.
Happy Homeowner Me wheels the bin to the street.
Ah, this is nice. I could get used to this routine.
Later . . . .
I may have mentioned that the local library provides me with a wide selection of movies, television series, documentaries, and how-to’s on DVD. I have a stack of DVDs for the BLT’s little television which is presently set up in our bedroom.
After a morning of painting the inside of the house and after fixing lunch, it’s relaxing to push back in my zero gravity chair and watch one of my selections.
Or in the evening . . .
After the boys are nestled in their beds nearby, I pop in a DVD in lieu of computer time. Last night I watch “The Mosquito Coast” with Harrison Ford and Helen Mirren (both considerably younger than today).
The characters in that movie take full-time boondocking to a level I never want to go!
Okay, let’s back up a bit.
It’s the evening before Trash Pickup Day. The bin is out at the street. Reggie, Roger, and I have had our supper. I tidy up. I sit on the porch and gaze at the distant mountains or wave to neighbors as they pass by walking their dogs.
The boys play and chase each other around the house and yard until they’re worn out and ready for bed. We go inside and the two tired pups get a drink and head for our bedroom.
I take a shower, get into my nightgown, brush teeth, etc.
Ah, now for choosing entertainment for this evening . . . . I’m in the mood for a couple episodes of Seinfeld. . . . . Wha? Where are the DVDs? I always keep them right here by the TV! (Pause) Well, I must’ve left them in the PTV. . . . .
(I picked up three DVDs from the library earlier that day.)
By the time I’m outside approaching the PTV, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to find them there.
I bet I mistook the Wal-Mart bag with the DVDs in it for a bag of kitchen trash. Oh, crap! The DVDs are in the bin out by the street. Yep, that’s where they are. No doubt about it.
I go out to the bin in my nightie.
I look around surreptitiously, hoping the neighbors aren’t watching. I open the lid, pull out the large bag of pine needles and misery plants and toss it on the ground. I reach into the bin, untie the first kitchen bag, and proceed to pick around its contents.
Nope. Oh boy, two more to go.
I open up the second bag, push aside the rancid chicken bones and numerous pieces of junk mail urging me to purchase mortgage insurance, and there to my relief and delight is Jerry Seinfeld making a face at me.
NOTE: Hey, here I am sharing with the world another one of my dumb moves. How about you going into comments and telling us something dumb you’ve done? — Sue
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