What's on your mind?

 Just spending a Sunday night sitting in my RV in D&S's driveway, windows open, ambient lights on, Ray La Montaigne station on Pandora playing in the background. Wine on the table, dog under the table, feet up on the buffet lounge, typing. I replied to a text from Roz, crazy lovely woman whom I adored working with, and I said, "life is simple and kind." I am so blessed to live as I do, and I will always give thanks for that. 

RV living has great advantages. I mean, beside the obvious of no rent, no mortgage, no utilities, no HOA Karen with her abacus, there are other things. No one really pays attention to RVers. I shower every 3 days and my clothes are clean unless I smell pee. (Thanks Grandma Edna and Aunt Mary for that one.) It's like, expected! I imagine conversations as my new neighbors consider my situation.  "Well, she lives in an RV...she looks like she showers every 3 days and ensures her clothes don't smell like pee. Thank you Jesus. She's okay."  And we live and let live in this Victorville, CA neighborhood and in the California State Parks. I think California State Parks made money on me when I ran into a light post in a camp at the Avenue of the Giants in 2014. What was that cost? $500? I have become a bit of a McGyver...I could have pushed that lamp post back into place, shored it up, replaced the light bulb, and wahla, $25 bucks and a little sweat equity later...fixed! 

So, there are more motorheads in Victorville than my hometown in the 70s. That's saying a lot. When gas was what, $.50 a gallon, having a big bad motor with cams and shams and a girl in a tube top, motor heading was cool and affordable. Cigarettes were $.40 a pack and a 6 pack of PBR was $1.50...I think...I just asked others to buy it until 1976. I was a wild child back then. I think I'm a wild child in my 60s. I guess the young mold don't change. Plaster of Paris is what my spirit is made of. Never really changing. I'm glad. I like my mold. Kind and simple. A bit wild inside. My girlfriend Nellie, I've known since I was 15. She lives up on a high plateau above Cottonwood AZ. Her spirit and mine have always collided. Her animal spirit is a Raven. And that she is. A shaman trained in the native ways. She is like home to me. I learned from her, during a sage filled ceremony, that my animal spirit is the horse. Strong. Fits my life path. I've never been able to be weak. And I am so glad.  That strength brought me to this moment. We got nicely stoned after the ceremony, while we sat on the porch of a cabin in Pine AZ, and laughed like we were 15 again. Thank you Nell Bell. I love you girl. 

Give me a moment, the wine tastes good tonight, I'll write a poem. Ha! I'll leave you in peace. Much love, Watson