Thanksgiving desert camping week

Late last night we returned from our week-long adventure to Death Valley (with a stop for a night at Calico Ghost Town and another night at the Mojave desert). To say I’m exhausted would be an understatement. After spending much of the day unpacking and organizing and doing laundry, I collapsed in bed and napped for hours. But I would say that despite how fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants the trip was (non-reservable campsites, no internet for most of it so we had to old-school it with paper maps), it was pretty magical, and I’m missing it already.

The desert is so quiet you can hear the blood sing in your ears, and the vastness of it is almost incomprehensible. The moments I had outdoors were definitely the best. The moments trapped in the RV - and there were many, since the nights were long and cold and we drove over 1300 miles during the day - were not my favorite. It was like our at home pandemic experience but condensed to an infinitely smaller space - with not a square inch to escape to - and constant concerns about having enough water, propane, gas, and when and how to empty the tanks. I had hoped we would only have to make one or two stops for fresh water and tank dumping - but we ended up having to make stops nearly every day. We had one mad dash all the way to Nevada to refill the propane tank, which would have been a real drag except that I had wanted to head that way to see the Rhyolite ghost town anyway. 

The cold and dark were a real problem - most of our campgrounds were at high elevations and dropped into the 30s at night with gusting winds; except for our final night at Mesquite Spring campground, we never had any time hanging out outdoors in the evenings, so no campfires, no s’mores, just the four of us packed into a tiny space. Also, the sun setting by 4:30 each day meant we were always scrambling to our next campsite in the dark - sometimes along treacherous mountainous roads, not really knowing where we were going or what we would find when we got there (only once, on Thanksgiving, did we drive 30 miles only to find our campground full and have to drive 30 miles back to a depressing parking lot campground in town, which ruined my Thanksgiving meal plans. Oh well. Nobody missed it). 

I’m glad the BF and I have a similar tolerance for adventure/danger. There were many white-knuckle moments on rough roads up steep inclines. There were several times I said “I don’t feel so great about this...” only to have it turn out ok after all.

And the boys? They loved the sand dunes and rock scrambling the most; I felt bad they didn’t get out to run around as much as I would have liked. They were definitely stir crazy in our tiny vehicle and I often had to tell them to stop screaming, stop jumping on things, settle down, etc. That part sucked. But hopefully we built some happy memories. Our epic Uno games - which Theo mostly won - were terrific.

For me, one huge problem was my constantly hurting left arm/shoulder, which made everything painful and difficult. Not only does it hurt most of the time anyway, but a new horrible dynamic developed during this trip, which was that due to the intense dryness and synthetic fabrics on everything, I was constantly getting huge, painful electric shocks, which under normal circumstances would be just annoying, but in this case would also cause me to pull my hand away abruptly which would then start a chain of events in my arm that would leave me breathless with agonizing pain for about ten minutes. And this would happen several times a day. It was torture. I’m going to have to figure out something about this shoulder pain. It’s gone from a slight annoyance to a debilitating misery. 

Would I do something like this again? Probably, although I have to admit camping during late fall/winter isn’t so great because it’s just too damned cold (to be fair, to see extreme deserts like this you pretty much can only go now or in early spring). 

There were so many highlights to this trip, but here are some of my favorites: 

Final week before TG

Feeling a bit better after last week’s rant. New vaccine news has even the worst “nothing will ever be normal again!” cynics feeling somewhat hopeful. I’m still concerned about the timing of everything as far as my event in September. I wish I had more time. I suppose moving the event dates isn’t entirely out of the question, but I’d be hard pressed to find another weekend that isn’t currently occupied. I’d be more concerned about vaccine roll-out issues if we were stuck with Trump for four more years; knowing we’ll have competent leadership come January makes me feel more at ease that we’ll finally beat this monster in 2021. 

Did both boys’ online parent-teacher conferences today; both boys got glowing reports. Yay! They are apparently “right on track” and both boys are reading at above grade level. So thankful they’re doing so well under these crazy circumstances.

A friend who wanted to support her local small businesses found out her favorite cheese shop was offering a monthly cheese club and joined it; over the weekend I joined one, too, under the guise of “I need shit to look forward to”. I also have started collecting materials so that I can make my own dill pickles in a 19th century crock, also sauerkraut, and also make kefir (my hairdresser says she’ll give me some grains to get started when I see her on Weds). I’m fascinated by fermentation. When I get back from my trip I’m going to order a crock, weights, a sauerkraut pounder and milk bottles for my daily kefir. Hippie bullshit, here we go! 

Yesterday I finally got a break from the kids and enjoyed a few precious hours alone at home binge watching the new season of The Crown, which in all its brooding melancholy fed my Northern European soul. Now I plot out our Death Valley trip and meal plan for it while the kids have half days due to the conference week. Not bad, not bad at all.

Also? I got my period unexpectedly a full week early, which has never happened to me in my life before. I was waiting for the moment my periods would become unpredictable; it’s entirely possible that at 48 1/2 I am starting perimenopause at last. I only just finished the last one over Halloween weekend. Still, I’m hoping this means I’ll be spared having it for the entirety of our Death Valley trip, which would not have been convenient. 

...and now, back to Coronavirus

I’m delighted to say that no civil war has broken out since the official announcement of Joe Biden’s election on Saturday. Other than Trump throwing around lawsuits like wet noodles and behaving menacingly behind the scenes, everything else appears to be moving along nicely. This is pretty much what I expected - a whole lot of hot air for the next two months. 

Coronavirus, however, has come back with a vengeance. Again, much like the red mirage of election night, it was expected, and yet I still hoped California would be spared. We aren’t. I’m selfishly concerned about our Thanksgiving plans - what if we can’t leave our houses? What if I have to cancel our RV reservation and am out $1000 with no recourse? Kauai is having a new case here and there and is considering re-instating their 14 day quarantine, so our January trip is in jeopardy also. I’m going to wait with bated breath to see what our governor decides before we leave next Saturday. Ugh.

In other news, a vaccine is looking very promising. However...will it be widely used enough by this spring so that I can have an event in September? It’s soooo tight. I’m afraid this year is going to be a real nail biter with regards to when and if I can function. Sigh. 

It’s been rough dragging the kids through their schoolwork all week. Bobby’s chrome book camera is terrible, so the photos of his homework are so blurry the teacher can’t read them. I had been taking pictures on my phone and emailing them to her...but she says she really needs them in the system and not emailed, so I’m going up to the school to exchange chrome books tomorrow...however I have no way of knowing if the next chrome book will just magically have a better camera and I won’t know until I’ve surrendered the old chrome book that’s all set up with all his sign-ins and passwords...ugh. I may just pass on the whole thing and use Theo’s school iPad instead. 

Every day I must say “stop screwing around”, “do your work” and “just get through this so you can have fun” about 5,000 times. It’s like herding kittens. They are hopelessly addicted to these inane gamer videos and take any excuse to sneak off and watch them unless I stay on them every second. I’m starting to really resent the amount of teaching and schoolwork I’m responsible for. I know it can’t be any other way - the kids can’t be expected to spend one minute more on zoom than they already are - but god I’m so sick of it all. Our day starts at 8 AM and doesn’t end until 3 or 4 - and it’s constant. I am interrupted every five minutes having to cook lunch or clean or find a working pen or a blank sheet of paper or constantly make sure they aren’t distracting each other...and then one is off school and has to do all his “asynchronous” work, which of course requires my complete involvement; then the other is off school and has to do his work, which usually involves my complete involvement, too, and then they both have to be timed to do their nightly reading, which also involves a lot of whining and complaining and my having to search their disaster of a room to find a book they haven’t read yet and don’t object to. By the time all of this is over and I’ve cleaned up the house that looks like a hurricane hit it, gathered up all their school supplies and put their devices on charge for the next day, the sun is already setting, and I retreat to my room to watch some tv and nap. By five o’clock I’m completely wiped out. It’s exhausting and emotionally draining. And yet we still have probably at least six more months of this. I can’t. 

Did I mention the pain I’ve had in my shoulder since March has now spread to my back, neck and arm, and I am in pretty much constant pain and can barely use my arm at all? Good times. 

We won

And this is how it went. Glued to CNN starting around 4 PM Tuesday, full of anxiety but hopeful for a quick landslide and a repudiation of Trumpism. This did not happen.

As we disgustedly watched state after state fall to red - Florida smarting particularly badly - we were angry and sullen. I couldn’t believe it was happening again. Trump. Re-elected. And losing the Senate and many House seats as well. Fucking asshole Mitch McConnell re-elected. That’s it, I thought. We are beyond redemption, I thought. The BF and I went to bed defeated and angry. We’re never going to flip those rust belt states - WI, MI and PA. It’s not going to happen. We’re finished.

And then. As if it were Christmas morning, we woke up Wednesday to news that Wisconsin had flipped blue and Michigan might be next; Trump’s lead in GA and PA slimming; Biden victory in AZ and NV a distinct possibility. They told us about the red mirage; I’ve been preparing for this phenomenon for weeks, and yet, even I was fooled. Hope was alive.

It was a stressful week of constantly watching The Map Show while wishing the kids could just conveniently disappear until a winner was announced. I barely pushed them through their schoolwork, violin practicing and meals while obsessively sharing memes and memorizing Pennsylvanian counties and which percentage of them were fully reported. I was terrified of missing the moment the election was called - afraid to take a shower or cook a meal or go on a walk.

Then, finally, yesterday morning. I did miss the moment, but caught it right after as the news spread among the networks. I was still in bed and the BF came in to get me just as my resistbot texted me the news. I sat in front of the TV in my pajamas and sobbed. Sobbed like a baby. We did it. We did it. He’s done.

Unfortunately we then all had to hustle out of the house because the cleaning lady was coming and I had to spend the entire day cut off from everything recording a new album for our band in a Hollywood studio. So I missed all of the celebrations and news for the whole day, which irks me to no end. But really, nothing matters right now. He’s done. 

When I got home we all gathered on the couch and held each other during Biden and Harris’ speeches and cried. God, humans again! People with empathy! And a woman, a woman of color, in the White House! People who will represent what this country actually is - a diverse place, not just a place for straight white men. The relief is palpable. And the senate is still winnable - and even if it isn’t, I’m not too worried. With the Trump menace gone and Biden’s centrism and willingness to reach across the aisle, I don’t think we’re going to be as obstructed as we have been. 

Biden was the right candidate. Older black voters knew this in the primaries; all black voters made our win possible now. We owe them a huge debt. Am I pissed it wasn’t more of a landslide, and that MORE people voted Trump now than 2016? Of course. It’s going to be a tough few years dealing with half this country convinced the election was stolen. But our systems, as much as Trump tried to dismantle them, still worked. Voting was smooth and scandal-free, no violence (although plenty threatened), and the next two months could be really hellish. Then no doubt Biden will disappoint and frustrate us progressive types. But none of that matters right now. We got rid of Trump!!! Hallelujah!

Here is Theo doing his online PE in front of The Map Show (ie CNN). What a time, huh? 

Covidween

We had our Halloween camping trip. It was a pleasant escape from our current frightening reality. We did an egg hunt for candy around the campsite, and well meaning neighboring campers brought by grab bags which made us cringe with infection fears. As we were leaving we thought we had scored an awesome giant tent that was left behind for hours on an empty campsite - only to have the owners come roaring in as we were packing it up; apparently they’d left this one thing to pack up and went fishing. Thankfully they were good sports about it and we apologized profusely. I always wonder how these situations would play out were we not white. I’m going to guess not so great. 

We came home to our corner grocery store boarded up in anticipation of Election Day violence, a sober reminder of what an absolute mess our country is right now, and how truly scary the next few months are going to be. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of us have, unless you’ve been through a war. 

And here we are, tomorrow is the big day - although whether we’ll have any inkling of the winner is as of yet unknown. I have faith we’ll make it. But as with all things I could be wrong. Still, I’ve had so much anticipatory anxiety about this that I’m pretty much worn out. The well is dry. Whatever happens, happens. I voted ages ago; I did my part. Now, we wait. While still trying to get two kids through school and keeping a household running. It’s not easy. Grateful for the distraction, though, to be honest.