No, Bridget and Spike aren’t participating in a Renaissance Festival.
The coats are way too big, but I don’t want to bother sending them back. I safety-pin the part that wraps around the belly. You can see the pin in the next photo which I post in order to show off how pretty Bridget is.
Spike, on the other hand, looks hung over.
The coats are lined and waterproof. The most important feature is their pee-and-poop–ability. In other words, both Spike and Bridget can relieve themselves without messing up the coat.
On cold nights when I’m too cheap to fire up the propane heater, Spike sleeps in his coat which is so big it’s like a blanket. Then I don’t have to worry about accidentally kicking the covers off him in the night. And you want to know all this, why?
Oh yeah, the rug!
Okay, here’s the rug that Gil (kgdan) gave me when we were at Mittry Lake.
It’s made out of plastic bags. Click this link to read instructions on “How to Crochet with Plastic Bags.
You can make tote bags, too. Click on the thumbnail photo for a close-up of the stitch.
Me and my hat are inseparable.
It’s been so cold that I keep my hat on all day, whether inside or out. You know my hat — It has a wide brim, kind of like a cowboy hat. Well, last night I’m propped up with pillows in bed reading, keeping warm and cozy with Bridget at my side and Spike at my feet. I reach up and turn off the light over my head.
“Well, that’s enough reading. Goodnight, guys.”
I fluff the pillow and settle my head into it for the night. “Wha?” Oh for heaven’s sake. I still have my hat on. I know, not much of a punch line, but there you have it. I guess you had to be here.
This afternoon the wind stops for about a half hour.
The crew and I sit outside on the sunny side of the Best Little Trailer. Not long in the sun, a guy in a red pick-up pulls up alongside my chair. He smiles out his open window.
The guy’s name is Les. He’s a friend of a couple I met here last winter who told him about my blog. He’s commented a time or two. Les also camped here along Sidewinder Road last winter, but I didn’t get a chance to meet him then.
I learn something from him right away.
He and I aren’t camped on BLM land. This is “mineral rights land” and the guy who owns those rights doesn’t care about people camping on the land. I ask Les how long he camps here.
“Until it gets hot,” he replies.
Then he looks at the Best Little Trailer and begins to tell a little story.
“I used to have a Scamp. Bought it for a thousand dollars. First time it rains, it leaks. I call up the guy that sold it to me and he says, ‘never leaked for me.’ Guess he never had it in the rain,” Les laughs.
“I blew three tires on the thing ’til I figured out the axle was bent. Put a new axle on it. Jacked it up higher. Made the tongue longer so I could mount my generator on it. Made it handle better.”
Les is in full, story-telling mode so I keep my mouth shut and listen.
“Had it for a few years and sold it for three hundred. That guy sold it to someone else for three hundred, and then I bought it back for three hundred. Drug the thing up to Montana to my brother’s funeral. He was fifteen years younger than me. Kinda’ scares ya.'”
I nod in agreement.
“I stuffed so much into that little trailer the sides were about to burst. Finally sold it to a guy for five hundred dollars. He pulls up in an old Pontiac belching smoke, hooks up, and takes the thing to Mexico. Adios, amigo! ” Pause.
“Yep, I loved that Scamp.”
Les is Les Buffham, award-winning song lyricist.
I repeat his name so I’ll remember it. “Just think of polishing a pig,” he suggests helpfully. You can read about him at his website.
Click on this link, cdbaby.com, to listen to some of the songs Les has written.
Les says he has to get going. He’s on his way to the post office in Yuma. I invite him to stop by again so we can talk some more, and he promises to do that.
(Photo from scvnews.com)
Our campsite’s front yard . . .
Tomorrow the crew and I go into Yuma to pick up the satellite radio!
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