02/20/02:

I've been wanting to do one on “How We Live” for quite some time, but our living conditions keep changing - and then such a topic would not really be complete without explaining how we go to the bathroom, and I'm not exactly sure how to do that with finesse but I'll give it a shot. If it doesn't come off, I don't have to upload it.

We live between a makeshift (8'x8'x7') tent attached to the open end of my homemade box trailer (8'x4'x4') and my 1994 Plymouth Voyager minivan - and the great outdoors. The tent is basically a cube of 2x4s attached to a plywood platform and loosely wrapped in a large green plastic tarp with a smaller blue plastic tarp beneath that stretched tight over the rafters. There is also an old Branstrator house trailer about 19.5 feet long adjacent to all this but it is not presently habitable.

I usually awake at about 6:30 a.m., shortly after sunrise, usually to the voice of Eileen saying, “Van, turn the heater on.” I start the van. I'm in the driver's seat. Eileen is in the rear bench seat.

My seat goes all the way back - all the way. The first time I tried that, there was a great grinding noise as it flew back and down. I hit my head on the floor just as I heard the crack of the plastic kitty litter box top breaking, wondering for a moment if the cracking was my head. Now I have one of those foam ice chests that I picked up at the VFW yard sale for 50 cents strategically placed to catch the seat back at just the right height for sleeping more or less straight out. Eileen stores a few things in that box and she also likes to lay her sleeping bagged feet on it at night, sometimes pushing against the pillow that is under my head.

I climb out of my bag-quilt-blanket bedroll, sit in the passenger seat, and carefully fold everything up and stack it neatly on the driver's seat which is now straight up. On top of that goes my notebook computer, camera and cell phone. I am not a neat freak; I just like to get it over with and I don't want Missy the cat curling up where I normally put my head. I don't like cat hair, fleas, lice, worms, cat litter or God knows what else getting into my head when I sleep. {That was a joke.}

Then I get dressed, or if not too cold out, I'll carry my clothing to the tent and dress in there while the coffee water is heating up. I prefer dressing standing up. This is when Mo is also released from the confines of the van. Coffee water and dressing come first. Then I go to the bathroom which is a spot next to a particular creosote bush below a thorny mesquite, and that is always an enormous relief.

Eileen is still in her bag, awaiting the sun. Though day break has passed, the sun doesn't come over the hill until about 8:00. (There is a short series on this, called “Waiting”, on my web site.) The sun line is very distinctive - the edge of our mountain's shadow. I have noticed a few things about it. One, the birds follow it; there is almost always a quiet flurry of avian activity along that line. Two, there is almost always a light breeze shortly before and shortly after the line, which would naturally result from the hot air hitting the cold air.

Usually, under normal circumstances, I like to throw some cold water in my face and wet my hair down when I get up. I don't do that here in the morning - it is too much of a shock. This is February.

I drink my coffee in a large blue enamel travel mug (doesn't tip over in the car). It holds about twice as much as your normal mug. When my coffee is ready, I also pour a mug of hot water which I carry out to Eileen, who is by now beginning to sit up.

I then stand out somewhere on my land, probably facing whatever project I've been working on, probably downwind of a large boulder or the house trailer if a breeze is blowing, and slowly sip my hot coffee and enjoy a smoke or two. This is a moment of great quiet pleasure for me. My coat collar is up and my hat is on. If it is really cold, I wear my knit cap instead and lined gloves. I stand there and thoroughly enjoy the moment and do nothing else - except perhaps formulate a vague idea of what I will do next.

When that mug is done, I return to the tent and fix breakfast for Mo and Eileen. Eileen usually gets half a container of yogurt dumped on a small helping of some kind of flake & nut cereal. She likes this. I don't like open containers in the ice chest, so I have found that the Yoplait yogurt container fits perfectly into an upside-down medium size 18 oz. peanut butter lid. Then the peanut butter jar is screwed tight over that. I carry her breakfast out to her. By now she is probably reading or doing her needlework. At this time I may also grab the litter box and set it out on the ground to be cleaned later. Mo gets a bowl of dry crunchy bites, which is good for his gums and teeth, and dry meat. There is always a bowl of water available when he needs some of that. If Lightfoot shows up, it is usually about this time, and he gets a bowl of food also.

If they need it, I drain the ice chests into the gray water bucket at this time. I also lift down the bucket of dirty dishes that has been stored on top of the box trailer overnight. I also brush away any mouse droppings that have
accumulated overnight on the kitchen table. If the number of spare propane tanks are down to 1 or 2, I'll set up my 5 gallon tank and prepare it for refilling the small ones, about ten of them to one tank. This is not for the impatient or the careless; it could easily send one to the hospital if not done precisely right, so don't try this at home. I prepare it now, but I won't actually begin the transfer of gas until just after the sun has arrived because escaping propane is frigid.

Then I prepare another mug of coffee and return to my former position. If it is really cold, I'll just finish the mug in that position. If not too bad, I'll begin to mix that coffee and smoke in with minor contributions to the current project, such as slowly circling a large flat rock I'm about to cobble into the new driveway. When that mug is done, I put my gloves on and get to work. On a rare occasion, I will notice Eileen flitting to the tent to use the toilet, and flitting back, but she will normally avoid this at all costs and just hold it in. After I have worked awhile, enough to get a feel for what lies ahead, I'll break off for breakfast, if there is a clean bowl, spoon and glass available. This will generally be Cheerios or Raison Bran or some other cereal, with sugar and milk, and a full glass of OJ. If cold, I'll sit in the van to enjoy this. Otherwise, I'll eat it while I look at my work. I then rinse these dishes, put them in the bucket, and brush my teeth. On the other hand, sometimes I get so involved in what I'm doing that I forget to eat breakfast.

After the sun arrives, Eileen will emerge and casually head for the tent for the above reason but also to dress and freshen up, perhaps to also take a sponge bath with the tent shut tight and all propane appliances heating. She may also set about washing the dishes if there are none left clean. At about mid-morning she will remind me to remove my stuff from the front seat and I do so. Then she heads into town to get the mail at our PO box. While there, she may also pull into Coyote Corners, pay her three bucks and take a hot 6 minute shower. Sometimes, she will leave a load of wash at the laundromat first and retrieve it after her shower. At either place she may fill up the empty jugs designated for drinking water. Though we now have a working water system, it tastes like Rubbermaid. I'm working on a filter. Every so often, she will drop by the library to return a book and get another. She may also head into Yucca Valley to buy groceries and do any other shopping her heart desires.

One more chore I need to handle as infrequently as possible is emptying the chemical toilet. I do this after the sun arrives and perhaps about once a week, depending on how often we are able to do our thing in town. The shower stall at Coyote Corners includes a toilet, as do the department stores. Beyond the shower stall, I prefer the Circle K where we also get our gas, milk and ice. But the damn toilet does fill up.

[Note: this paragraph was about three times as long but Eileen felt that it was disgusting and demanded that I remove it. I do not agree; I believe it to be technically accurate and if anyone plans to get one of these things, it has information that they might wish to know. Therefore, you have a choice: if you want to read it and you are reading the online version, click here. Otherwise, don't; it's okay.]

The sun is a wonderful thing. Prior to its arrival, I'll be working away out there all bundled up in my coat and sweater with my hat pulled tight and my collar up. The car engine has been running this whole time keeping Eileen and Missy warm. Within 30 seconds after the sun line hits the van, I hear the engine go off. Not long after that, I hear the van's side door slide open and slide shut. I tend to focus on my work so I don't necessarily notice when the sun hits me. What I first notice is my thought, “Oh, that does feel good.” Shortly after that, I'm peeling my coat off and by the time that is off I'm realizing that the sweater can go too. The hat comes off for awhile because that sun feels so good on my head. Eileen will probably be in shorts. Occasionally, by mid-afternoon, I'm barebacked.

One other of Eileen's many chores is to vacuum the van. She asks me to get the generator started and I do so. I then find the hot end of the 100' cord, find the ShopVac, and take them down to the van. We don't want to wake up any late sleepers, so we wait until 9:00. When she is done, I turn it off.

Speaking of cleaning, either one of us will sweep out the tent as needed, only I also sweep the rock patio outside of the tent to minimize the amount of dirt that finds its way into the tent.

While we're in the tent: we have learned to keep everything up or put away that might taste good - the can opener, my coffee spoon, the bar of soap, the dishes, my sandwich box. I recently discovered tiny tooth marks all the way around the edge of that small Rubbermaid box, so now it gets shoved up into the rafters. They don't seem to get up there. The dog food is in a large Rubbermaid box with a foam ice chest on top of that and a full jug of water on top of that to hold the lid down. We have a real ice chest on one end of the kitchen table and that has a full jug on top of it also, just to be sure - that jug also helps remind us to shut the lid tight - not just let it drop which does not shut it tight. All dishes are in a Rubbermaid box or are hanging on hooks in a bag or solo. Everything else that is tasty
goes into the box trailer (such as the bag of cookies I just went and got) and if the latches are latched, nothing gets in there. The pair of bottom gates on the box trailer keep the mice and packrats out. The top awning gate keeps the birds out. Really! They will fly into the tent and hop into the trailer if that gate is up. Most of our clothing is also in large Rubbermaid boxes or hanging on hooks or on the line.

What do you see when you step into the tent? The entry is at one corner where a flap of the tarp can be attached to a hook for privacy, but is otherwise held open by a bungee cord. Along the left wall
beginning at your feet is a Rubbermaid box containing towels and such, with a cushion on top where we can sit to put on our shoes or do our makeup. Then there is a 4 tier plastic shelving unit holding all of our toiletries and some utensils, paper towel roll, toilet paper and a box of tissues. Then an old folding picnic table stretched to the far wall. This is one of those things that some jerk left in my house trailer so I scrubbed it down with 409, reinforce the broken parts and put it to use. On that is a 5th plastic shelf, solo, which we use as a counter so to speak, the 3 burner Coleman stove and the new plastic ice chest. Under the table are 3 large Rubbermaid boxes full of clothing and the plastic salad bowl Eileen uses as a sink.

On the floor at the far end next to the table is a small ice chest containing only dog biscuits because it is too small for a block of ice and cold goods. To the right of that is the 2x4 & plywood bed I made recently. On that is a double air mattress upon which may be some loose clothing, my bedding and my computer (in the day time). Under the bed are 2 Rubbermaid boxes; one containing my printer which I have not hooked up yet, and the other my files, books and papers. At the foot of the bed, on the right, is the Rubbermaid dog food box and foam ice chest holding beer and milk. In front of that, towards you, may be the toilet, though it may be pushed under the bed so we can get the right hand trailer gate open. Or it may be outside sitting on a platform of red brick next to the tent, which is where I prefer to use it. (Nobody can see me there except Eileen when she is being a smartass.)

All around the ceiling are hooks for clothing on the right and pots & pans on the left. A nylon rope runs diagonally across the ceiling. The portion of the trailer's roof that is in the tent serves nicely for storing spare bottles of water and odds & ends. The rest of the roof, outside of the tent, holds more bottles of water, empty dog dishes and pots and
pans waiting to be cleaned. So what! Let the birds enjoy a morsel or two; Mo already cleaned them as best he could. Under the trailer on the ground are some of my power tools, my tool box and the cat carrier. Outside of that entry is the rock patio. An X of 2x4s screwed to the trailer wall stretches over the tire and up to the pole laying between the X that used to hold the solar shower bag. Our American flag's pole is screwed to one upper leg of that X. The solar bag sprung a leak, but by then we were both taking our showers in town, so I took it down and put it away.

I take my shower about every five days or so. I almost never sweat because there is so little humidity in the air when the sun is out, so I can't say I really get to feeling dirty and in need of a shower; I just feel dusty and dry. Of course I do throw water in my face and rinse my hands a couple times a day and I do a similar procedure after you know what, so parts of me do get cleaned more often.

I like to go in about 11:00 in the morning when the sun has had a chance to warm up the unheated shower rooms and when it is less likely that there will be a crowd of campers and climbers waiting in line ahead of me. I go into the shop, buy a dozen quarters and get the key.

In the shower room, I first use the toilet and that is a nice luxury – a real toilet. Then I get everything set up – the towel on a hook, the soap and washcloth in place, the shampoo upside-down so I won't have to wait for it to pour out, and I make sure the shower valve is set to roughly the right temperature, usually what the previous person left it at. Then I feed 6 quarters into the box on the wall just outside the stall and water comes bursting out of the shower head. I wait for the cold to turn to the right temperature and then I step into it. What a wonderful feeling. I wash my hair and my face and rinse them off. Then I get the remainder of the 3 minutes to just stand there and luxuriate. When the water cuts off, I feed 5 quarters into the box to get that near done and then I shampoo again and scrub down the rest of me. I can take my time on this because no timed water is running. When I'm done scrubbing, I feed the 6th quarter into the box, let the water get hot and then step back into it and rinse all the soap off. This way I get almost the entire 3 minutes to stand in that flow of hot water and soak it in to the depths of my soul. When it cuts off, I dry off, get dressed, comb my hair and walk out into the warmth of the California sun, renewed, refreshed, clean.

At about noon, I'll break off for my siesta. This begins with three beers and this is the only time I consume any
alcohol, except for when Eileen drags me out at night to the local saloon or a restaurant where I might have one. But I avoid this when at all possible, because I almost always come back with an empty wallet. This beer/siesta break is another of my favorite routines, like that first coffee in the morning and the first after the siesta. I have a few special rocks up in the hill that are reasonably comfortable for sitting on. I select the one that gives me the best view of my current project and I climb on up there. I love sitting up there drinking my beer, smoking my smokes, with the sun warming me - looking out over the magnificent valley below me, and getting a perspective on my project.

This is where I see how it relates to everything else. This is where I see the direction it is heading, and where I may alter that direction a little, or a lot. That perspective is influenced by the sun beating down on me, the breeze moving around me, the utter and near perfect silence that I hear in the air, the magnificence of the rocks, vegetation and animal life I see across the valley, and the awareness that this solid evolving terrain has been slowly forming and growing into what it is now for millions of years. Awesome! I am also aware that anything I do with rock may well remain that way for hundreds or even thousands of years to come, so I better not mess it up – or at least I must try to make it complimentary. Yes, I know that mankind, perhaps my descendants, may alter what I have done, and/or the rest of it, but that is not what I'm concerned with now. Now I let my creative juices quietly flow where they wish, with immense respect for the dignity of the land, and then I climb down the hill and take my nap.

Unless it is too windy or cold, I take my hour's nap in the tent. There, it is real nice to stretch straight out on a level full length mattress and nod gently off to sleep. That sleep is generally very sound. When I awake, I get my obligatory coffee water going, go to the bathroom and get dressed. This coffee I drink slowly as I look over my work and think about what I will do, which I usually begin before the coffee is done.

Occasionally, about 4 or 4:30, we'll head into the larger neighboring town of Yucca Valley so I can buy supplies at Barr Lumber. I keep these trips to a minimum and then try to get everything I need on one trip so that I won't have to go back again for awhile. I do not like to leave my projects; I get a flow going and I like to stay with it. On these trips, Eileen normally comes along to grab the opportunity to direct us towards The Jelly Donut to gorge ourselves on their special delicacies. This is okay with me because it is now beginning to get dark and I wouldn't get back in time to get any work done anyhow.

If we are not out on such errands, then about an hour before dusk Eileen takes off for her evening walk with Mo and Lightfoot, if he is around. I break about the same time for my final coffee of the day, but I will generally keep working
with this coffee because I'm about to run out of daylight and I have a mission to accomplish. When the crew returns, which can be later then expected if she has run into a neighbor to chit-chat with, Eileen sets about making dinner for me. She actually began this process in the tent around noon which is when she ate her dinner out on a rock sharing it with the dogs. Hence, my dinner sits all afternoon in a pot in the box trailer, which I can live with because I'm hungry as hell when she serves it to me.

Eileen knows just about all of the neighbors, from Tom and his tenant Sarah next door, Jean Davis up the street, Ron & Lauren down the street, Bill further west, to the Marine up on the hill at the other side of our half of the valley. That's just a few of the many. They all have nice to really nice homes and, except for Sarah, live here year around. The Marine, whom I have not met yet, has a horse. Bill has a plane. Ron refuses to fly with Bill because Bill hops between the peaks surrounding our valley, sometimes with just 20 or so feet to spare. I'll cover our neighbors in another edition.

Eileen carries my dinner out to the van and sets it on the dashboard, except for the milk which goes on top of the van to keep it cold, if the wind is not blowing dust. At this time she starts up the van to get it warm – the sun is down, or just about. I wash up and then move my bedding and electronics back into the van on the passenger's seat. I grab my milk off the roof, sit in the driver's seat and dig in. Dinner usually consists of a bowl of salad, the main course which can be anything that can be cooked in a pot on a camping stove and stored all afternoon, a meat sandwich, a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, a cup of applesauce, and of course a tall glass of milk. All dishes are plastic, but the flatware is real. The salt and pepper are stored in two cup holders molded into the paneling of the van. I salt just about everything and pepper my salad. She has also taken to feeding me a multi-vitamin lately. In spite of all I consume, my belt is now in about as far as it will go, unless I drill another hole in it.

Meanwhile, Eileen prepares herself in the tent for bed (in the van) or for going out if that is what we are going to do. It is usually while I'm eating that she and Mo climb into the van for the night or to wait for me to finish eating. Her sleeping bag never left the van; she just pulls it up and over from behind the bench seat when she is ready to head towards sleep. She may take this time to type an email or handwrite letters and cards.

When I am done, and it takes me awhile because I take my time, I put on my coat, grab the flashlight and carry my dishes to the tent where I rinse them and drop them in the bucket, which then goes on the roof of the box trailer. I brush my teeth, rub moisturizer into my hands, and enjoy an after dinner smoke. I also check the tent out and put up the things she left down for the mice.

Or we head into town. On Monday nights, we attend an Alanon meeting that starts at 7 and ends at 8:30. This is a great place to relearn how to get along with each other; to treat each other with love and respect, in spite of ourselves.

On Wednesday nights we go to the Joshua Tree Saloon which she likes because they give away free tacos on this night and then they get the karaoke going. This can be interesting. You never know who will get up and sing. Some are very good. Many times, it is truly an international gathering of filthy rock climbers and campers. The Joshua Tree National Park, just down the street from me, is world renowned for its giant rock formations and climbers come from all over the globe.


Normally, we would just sit and enjoy the crowd and conversations, but tonight Wednesday the 13th I sang because it is the day before Valentines day and all I got for her was a card which she will wake up to in the morning. I sang “Can't Help Falling In Love With You”. The DJ/bartender was good; he asked if I used to sing backup for Elvis. Eileen swooned all over me for the rest of the evening. She also gave me a gift when we got home: a wooden sign saying “BLAKEMAN” that an old guy in town made for her. Anyhow I digress – this is supposed to be general.

On a rare occasion, I may take her to dinner at The Crossroads in town or to some other restaurant. The Crossroads makes excellent food, both natural veggie stuff and very good burgers. Their salads are enormous. Their prices are reasonable. The place is a laid back low light collection of scattered wooden tables & chairs, floor lamps, books, paintings and plants. It too is a hangout for the young filthy rock climbing crowd – so we fit right in. Our neighbor, Sarah, worked there until recently.

Of note is that neither here nor in The Saloon have I smelled marijuana or the incense or candles used to mask it. Perhaps they smoke the stuff back in their tents, but I suspect not. Being spaced out is probably not conducive to climbing the face of a 200 foot boulder formation with your hands and your toes.

After my dinner or after we return from our night on the town, I make my bed. First I lay out the sleeping bag on the
leveled driver's seat, one of those plain cheap open end bags made for little people, and tuck the foot of the bag under the break and gas pedals. Under that I place a cushion that the heels of my feet will rest on. Over that I lay my LL Bean quilt doubled over. The door-side edges of the bag and quilt are then stuffed down between the seat and the door, also the upper portions go down between the seat back and into a pocket in the side of the van. This is very important. If not done right, I'll wake up cold from time to time during the night to find my quilt on the floor, and I hate that. There is also a pillow at the head of the bag-quilt combo. If it is a really cold night, then I add a thermal blanket to the mix.

Eileen is back there in her quality down cocoon sleeping bag. Need I say more?

Remember, we didn't think we would need sleeping bags; Eileen had some stored away somewhere so she got them cleaned and we brought them along - just in case.

I then turn on the inverter. That is a box about the size of a hard back book that converts the van's DC battery
voltage into normal household AC. Before we left for this trip, I installed it on the floor under the console between the front seats. It has 3 outlets like any you find on the walls in your home. I had also purchased the most powerful battery I could get. They have proved to be an excellent investment. We will have the lights on for hours at a time with the cell phone and computer plugged into the inverter. At times, other items are plugged in such as my camera when transferring pictures to the computer, my electric shaver, a very powerful spot light that lights up the entire hillside, and a battery charger for charging the batteries I use in my camera and small flashlight. The car starts up instantly every time. I tried the low wattage microwave but the inverter cut off; it wouldn't handle it. This is a 700 watt inverter. I probably should have gotten a 1000 watt or higher.

After my bed is made, I plug the phone and the computer into the inverter and get the computer going. I kick my shoes off. When 8:00 passes, I connect the cell phone and go online. 8:00 is when the Nights of the “Nights & Weekends” minutes begin with the AT&T cell phone service. We get 2000 of those and only 400 daytime. We have learned to pay very strict attention to those minutes, or we get socked with an enormous bill. I go online and download our email, also uploading any we've typed that are waiting to go out. If I've compiled a new collection of photos and text for this journal, I begin to upload them to the web site. That can take many nights at this slow cell phone speed. I also check my bank and credit card accounts, my portfolio, and any that Eileen needs to see, such as her bank account to verify that her tenant has deposited the rent on time. I then disconnect ASAP because even
those 2000 minutes add up pretty quick. After disconnecting, I weed through the emails, discard the junk mail and read the real mail out loud so Eileen can hear, except for the jokes. She can read those to herself the next day. I also read any technical newsletters to myself.

I also update my books. Pretty soon I'll go to work on our taxes though that has to be done online in conjunction with Intuit who provides a very nice question and answer/multiple choice type setup.

If I have anything to say, I'll go to work on what I'm doing now. Otherwise, I'll spend the rest of the night, until midnight, preparing a new series of photos for inclusion on the Joshua Tree Journal portion of my web site. I hope you are looking them over now and then, and finding them reasonably well done and interesting – would appreciate some comments, including any difficulties that you may be running into.

Eileen has usually fallen asleep after the reading of the emails, though she will awaken once or twice and ask to be escorted to the toilet in the tent. Mo has been asleep since he entered the vehicle. Missy is up and around looking for the warmest spot in the van which is often inside Eileen's bag, drinking water and using her litter box. I too drink a lot of water from a gallon milk jug on the floor next to the seat and eat candy and cookies if I have a stash in the drawer under the seat. I step out about once per hour for a smoke, to marvel at the brilliantly sharp starlit sky and to mark my territory.

I may be tired and exhausted but if I can avoid falling asleep before midnight then I can usually last until 6:30 before I have to go again. When it is time, I'll shut down my computer, put it on the dash and tuck the cables away. I'll go outside for my final smoke, etc.. Back inside, I lock the doors, open the passenger window a quarter inch or so, unplug the charging phone, turn off the inverter and map light (which aluminates the keyboard), get undressed, blow my nose, sit on the very peak of the horizontal back of the drivers seat and very carefully slide myself down into the bag, tuck the quilt around my neck to keep the cold out and I then fall fast asleep.

February 25, 2002 9:56 AM
Really glad to hear from you. Made me want to move out there. Chet said you should make this a book. I told him you're saying this on your website. By the way the portable toilets all came with instructions when we bought them. I figure they still come with them. Is all the land near you taken or is there still some for sale? Hannah

February 26, 2002 12:11 AM
What about the story made you want to move here? Van

February 28, 2002 10:52 PM
Something about the way you described the area and how you're so out of the rat race there. The beauty of the area came through. And you have meetings and the nearby places sound artist friendly. Is that enough? Love Hannah

February 26, 2002 2:38 PM
Hi Van and Eileen, Loved reading the journal of your daily activities. Felt like I was there with you. My brother has been climbing at Joshua Tree and loved it! Van....wishing you more productivity on your site and peace.... Marcia

February 27, 2002 12:25 PM
Hi Van (& Eileen), I enjoyed the latest installment. I went into the Journal, it was great seeing the photos as I went. I did this from work so will open it again from home so Allen can see them as well. Thanks for including us. Sue

March 03, 2002 1:41 AM
Hey Dad! I read and love your journal enteries, and it's funny seeing the look people give me when I tell them where my dad is!:) Hope everything continues to go well,and I'm guessing you've started to get a sense of what's REALLY important...Hello Eileen! Darby