Steve and Judy's Travels!

Monday. Still at 299. Judy spent some time with her mom this morning. I spent some time doing a
little work online. No WiFi here, but a good cellphone data connection. I
wonder if we should expand into an adjacent state. It would be easier to
work on the road in New Mexico in the winter than in Colorado. We decided, since we were already here, to press a little farther into
California and go to the beach. Went to Paradise by the Sea RV Park in
Oceanside. It is almost on the beach, and has a trail that runs through a
little park and right out onto the ocean. It has a chain link fence for
security at night. The fence has a locked gate. And concertina razor wire
on top. Oh well. We’ll ignore that part. Seventy-five degrees. An ocean breeze. It is so nice here. That’s it.
We’re not going anywhere else. I can work from here. Racquetball therapy. Had to drive to Vista for it, but that’s not very far.
Challenge court. Two guys playing. The winner stayed. The other left.
The winner was awesome. He was totally relaxed. He hit every shot. He was
invincible. He crushed me at zero. My first game is never my best. I settled down and played again.
Methodically. I got a few points. I even got ahead. His game changed. He
forced a few shots and missed a few points. He won, but I got to double
digits. The next game, he only got to single digits. During the game after
that, his son showed up. I’d guess his son is eighteen years old. I played
him next. His son hit even harder than he did. But he didn’t hit as well.
He didn’t get very many points. Angelo’s in Oceanside for pastrami sandwiches and taquitos. Oof. Krispy
Kreme crème filled donuts for dessert. Double oof. It was all Judy’s idea.
I’ll never listen to her ideas again. I taught her a lesson, though. She bought the donuts, but I served them. I
put four of them on her plate. Alka Seltzer should finish off the night just fine. A forty-five mile day.

Tuesday. Still at 299. Our RV site is right next to/underneath the railroad tracks. They’re on a
berm and a bridge. We’re next to the berm part. Amtrak runs passenger
service back and forth all day long. The Coaster. Brother Bill is probably
familiar with it. Traffic dwindled to a few freight trains overnight. We
put on a couple of fan background noises, and we hardly heard the trains at
all. Judy did some errands and visited with her sister-in-law Barbara. I stayed
to do some work. I tried the WiFi. No signal. I tried the cellphone. No
data signal. Plenty of voice signal, but no data connection. They have
WiFi here, but with a very limited range. They invited me to bring my
laptop to the office and try it there. It worked. It worked, but only sort
of. I received all my email. I could look stuff up on the web. Nothing
would go out. I can’t send email here, only receive it. So I know what the
office is up to. They just can’t tell what I’m up to. I’m still cleaning
up Colorado client lists and thinking about New Mexico. It’s cool and cloudy here, but warm enough to go walk on the beach, so I
think we’ll go walk on the beach. 300! Hanging out at the little lagoon down the path between here and the beach, a
little white tern was flying around. We see these all the time in Texas.
They’re Forster’s terns. But this one had his summer outfit on, so he
looked different. I looked him up when we got back to the motorhome. He’s
different alright. He’s even smaller than a Forster’s Tern. Yellow bill.
He’s a Least Tern. Number 300. Yeaa. 301, Tricolored Blackbirds. They look like red winged blackbirds, but they
have white instead of yellow under the red on the wings. They’re basically
only in California. They’re in the marsh between here and the beach. Saw a pied billed grebe. Saw some other grebes with white streaks on their
heads and red faces we don’t recognize. Looked them up. There is no such
grebe. They are probably an immature something. We saw some immature
coots. They have red faces instead of white. It doesn’t say anything about
that in the book. Maybe we should just stay and watch these grebes until
they mature and we can tell what they are.
Becky got released from bed rest to light activity.

Sunday. Father’s Day. Still at 299. Made a quick run to the beach at Oceanside. The literature here at the park
suggested it would be quick. It took hours. We missed some commitments. Took Helen to Judy’s nephew Ralph and Jill’s new house in Temecula. They
had a family Father’s Day gathering. The new house is very big, brand new,
and very nice. Played with the kids. Had a good time. It was a good day. We have done everything we needed to do this trip. We want to be home for
Becky’s baby. She is not supposed to have it until the fourth of July, but
she’s been threatening to have it early. The baby has dropped. The doctor
put her on bed rest for a few days to try to calm the process down. We call
every day to see if we need to pop right home. We’ll appreciate it if she
can give us three days notice. Tomorrow. Off to Arizona for condors in the canyon.

Saturday. Still at 299. Left Sue and John’s house on the river. Drove from the desert to the inland
valley of California. Interstate 10. Blythe. Desert Center. Indio.
Cathedral City. Thousand Palms. Desert Hot Springs. Brother Bill’s
springtime stomping grounds. Palm Desert. A giant windmill farm. The sky
turned rather white as we drove in from the desert. The blue sky went
white. Maybe it’s just humidity from the ocean flowing in. It is so
strange to drive though a valley and only be able to see the hills on either
side for five miles or so. After that, they just disappear into the haze.
That’s not something that happens in the high country. Typically, we can
see a hundred miles in any direction if there aren’t too many mountains in
the way. John advised us to tank up in Arizona before we crossed into California. We
paid $1.79 for diesel. We see it here for $2.13. That’s still less than we
paid for it a couple weeks ago in Durango. Settled into a nice park associated with an Indian Casino. Pechanga. It is
nicely separated from the Casino. You have to take the shuttle to get
there. We didn’t. A two hundred fifty mile day.

The park in Temecula. We don’t always get to be the only ones in the park.