Hunkered Down and Staying Warm

Winter's first icy fingers reached down from the north on Thursday, clawing back the warmth of summer and leaving his calling card of slick roads, white hills, and frost.

I hunker down inside the Godspeed for long hours at a time. With nowhere to go, I write. I play ukulele. I plan...and think about next steps.

The main struggle is in staying warm.

Staying Warm

The soft glow of candlelight flutters against the Mexican blanket hanging over the long north-facing living-room window. The blanket’s striping is white, black, orange, and grey-brown. Lines and geometric square patterns in a black, woven thread run along the middle of each wide white line. Behind the blanket, the window is half-covered in a strip of silver bubble insulation. This little bit of winterizing protects the lower half of the window where the drafts get in. It’s going to take serious work to get that fixed as the window at that spot doesn’t quite reach the RV wall. I think the window twisted one time when I forgot to close it while driving. Nomad Everywhere Seth warned me about this when I first got the RV. He’d said, “You are going to be tempted to drive with the windows open since you don’t have air conditioning, but don’t do it. If you hit something or run into something with the windows open, it could twist them up bad.”

I certainly do not want the windows open now. Instead, I’ve shut everything as tight as possible. I’ve got a cover on two vents, and insulation and blankets cover all the windows, except the south-facing plant window above the cab of the RV. Las plantas need their sunshine.

Fortunately, I’m able to run two electric heaters, one oil-filled radiator to warm the front and the little ceramic fan heater in the bedroom.

Then, there’s the little propane buddy heater--my current life luxury. I run this heater sparingly, but when the flame is burning, it feels like I’ve got my own fireplace. The buddy heater burns a one-pound bottle of propane over the course of four- to six- hours. Again, I use it sparingly and try not to take advantage of overuse because those little bottles of propane cost around five bucks each. And money is tight. So, usually, I end up running the little blue flame and only turn it on the low-setting long enough to heat the ceramic plate behind the flames. That thing will hold heat for a while.

I also use candles. The purpose of these is two fold. Of most importance during this arctic chill is for heat. I’ve got two terracotta pots inverted over candles. This is that thing that everyone sees on YouTube this time of year, showing how to “reduce heating bills” or “heat a whole room.” Maybe I’m doing something wrong. These don’t heat the entire RV; however, I can warm up if I’m standing beside where they sit on the stove and the radiator heater is at my feet.

The other purpose of the candles is to supplement the twinkle lights above my head, little battery-operated fairy lights on thin wire. The fairy lights aren’t a strong light. I like them because they preserve night vision. But the candle light adds a little strength when I’m winding down for the evening and playing the ukulele or making tea.

Until Buena paws at the door. She has a set schedule. I knew it was coming.

Using the candlelight to look for Buena’s leash, I take her outside.

Into the cold.

On a leash.

She hurries with her outdoor business these days. During the summer months she would sniff and sniff and sniff the ground back and forth. She would pull away, wanting to go further into the tall sweetgrass.

Now she is precise.

She sniffs, squats, and points her nose back toward the RV.

Even Buena wants to stay warm. She’d stopped shedding around mid-September and has been bulking up on winter fur. I find her tightly curled up a lot. Or, I find her snuggled down into blankets or stretched across my winter coat if I leave it on the couch for too long.

Car Parts

The mechanic sent me an email today.

The parts are in.

The days shuffle forward. I must plan my migration.

I want someone to do the thinking for me. To move me from Craig to Havasu with the least amount of stress.

Students

“We’ve only got five actual weeks left of school,” I say. “We’ve got to get serious about paper writing. We’ve got two big projects coming up after this one. And…”

“Did you find housing for winter?” a student blurts out.

I pause. “No, I did not, so I might as well tell you that I put in my resignation. I can’t do this in this cold.”

“I don’t blame you,” says another student.

“Where are you going?” asks a third.

“I’m going where it’s warm. I’m going to regroup down in Arizona and figure out next steps. I tried to make it here,” I say.

“Housing is hard here,” says the older wiser student. I’m going to miss her. She has been thoroughly engaged with her studies and getting an education. She knows what she’s doing in life and has a plan. I admire her for that.

The fact is… I’m really going to miss this class. Almost the entire class has been engaged with their assignments and the course content. I tell them I’ll miss them and that they are my high point in the experience I’ve had in Craig, Colorado.

“Can you teach online?” a student asks.

“I could, but Colorado has a rule about state employees living in the state to be employed.”

“And you’re going to Arizona…” another student pipes up.

“Yes, I’m going where it’s warm. I’ll take a part-time job and just figure it out as I go,” I admit.

The Cook Top

Without propane, I’ve not been able to cook anything.

Fortunately, I’ve been able to make tea in my extra-fast-plug-in-boiling-in-an-instant kettle. I’d bought the water boiler at the start of the school year, imagining long days spent working in my tea-scented office. Instead, the school water isn’t pure like the water in Chaffee County. This water has a weird odor. I’ve heard locals complaining about the water. I haven’t used it, except for bathing.

For water, I fill up gallon jugs at 25-cents a gallon. I use about a gallon to a gallon-and-a-half per day. If I have to pay for clean water, I will. Water is life, and the trace elements in water can be a detriment or a boon to our health.

(This is one of the reasons why I moved out of St. Louis in 2016. The city, on major waterways, is surrounded by pockets of nuclear waste. When I left, one of the landfills in North County was burning underground and threatened a pile of nuclear waste nearby. I feared the purity of the water there.)

Again, water is life.

Then, out of the blue, a box arrives for me at the college.

I open it at work, carefully unwrapping it so the hunks of rock with the petrified pinecones do not roll off the table.

It's....a cooking device!

Dear-wonderful-sensible Cheryl sent me a two-burner cooktop hotplate stove. It’s got a glass top like on the fancy glass ovens. I’m looking forward to testing it out on something I’ve been craving: cashew chicken. It's been too long since I've been able to cook in the RV. Thank you, Cheryl!

Since I don’t have water in the RV, the plan is to go into the college and make my meals in the faculty lounge in the evenings. While there’s no stove in the faculty lounge, I can use this cooktop and the wide sink. Cooking and clean-up will be a breeze!

In other news...

The internet and cell towers in Craig all went out on the last Friday in October. I had so much grading to do. If I didn't do it on Friday, I would spend all day worrying. If that happened, I probably would be working on both Saturday and Sunday.

I needed a break.

So, at 10 o'clock on Friday morning, I made a snap decision. After leaving the office, I loaded up an overnight bag, the computer, and the laundry bag into the minivan and headed south.

I stopped and did laundry at the good laundromat in Rifle and then headed on to Parachute where I got a room for the evening.

With all schoolwork completed by checkout time on Saturday morning, I had the rest of Saturday and Sunday free for me. Small win, but I'll take it!