I can hear the soft rumble of my Mom’s snoring over the incessant little German clock she has stuck on her fridge. I can hear that clock even when she’s got her Telenovelas  blasting on the tv. Banging away the minutes of our lives.

From the mountains of Utah to the swampland that is Florida. Two short flights away. What would have taken days or weeks driving time (preferred method) took 6 hours counting the layover. Of course the whole endeavor takes weeks off your life span when one factors in the stress of flying.

Mama at Breakfast

I’ve come to Florida to help my Mom sort her shit. And boy howdy, her shit needs some sorting. She’s not a hoarder exactly she’s just not very organized. Her flat is filled with chotchkies and little bits of paper she’s written things on that she doesn’t want to forget. Then she forgets where she put the little bits of paper. You’ve never seen such chaos. It’s an exact reflection of her mind these days. I started the “sorting” soon after arriving though she is unaware. I know how that sounds but I also know she won’t miss any of the things I’ve tossed while she’s sleeping or in the shower. She doesn’t remember most of what she has. We open a box and it’s like Christmas! We’ve done some “sorting” together in addition to my solo work. The excruciating “but I might need those 20 (hideous nylon) lace curtain panels” or the 6 shower curtains for the one bathroom, or the eight 20-year-old suitcases with broken zippers. When I gently remind her that she might only need one she acquiesces but insists on offering it to her neighbor before giving it to the Goodwill. I cringe at the thought. Most of the stuff she is grudgingly willing to part with she insists on offering first to friends who she believes will appreciate and love these things as much as she does. I feel her pain. I remember my first bouts of purging and how difficult it was to let stuff go because I might someday need them. I’ve not missed a single thing. Letting go has become is easy.

One Art

Toadstool Hoodoo

We left the beautiful meadow and drove north through Navajo country. Stark and sad and beautiful. Sandstone cliffs surrounding miles and miles of dry brush as far as my eyes could see with little pockets of humanity. Old mobile homes on cinder blocks next to thrown together out buildings, cars and old trucks clustered around each other like a kid’s matchbox car collection and every now and then a Hogan (Navajo Round house).

Destination: Lake Powell on the Arizona/Utah border. There’s camping right on the shores of the Lake and it’s lovely. Even when the wind is blowing 35 miles per hour with 55 mph gusts. Well, that part isn’t that cute. But when the sun is shining and it’s warm and the water is still and the only thing you can hear is the flapping of the crows wings as they circle around looking for treats…that parts nice.

Lake Powell

Hail storm Grand Escalante

Sandstorms, hail, sunshine and cold. Woo hoo!!! Utah in April. It’s a magic show. One minute it’s this and the next, it’s that.

It’s everything.

Namaste.

Medicinal Plant Map of the United States

Found this amazing map this morning on my morning internet rounds! And this…

Gratitude: The Short Film by Louie Schwartzberg from ecodads on Vimeo.

We’ve traveled so many miles since my last post here.

Today our little tin can sits in the middle of a meadow surrounded by a forest of pine trees. The wind is up, the birds are calling and flitting from one dead mullein stalk to the next. There’s a gang of elk that come by to graze at dawn. It’s like we’ve landed on a different planet after spending a few days in Phoenix and Tucson.

In deep Gratitude for all the magic places we have been and all the places we have yet to discover.

The New Year dawned on us in the desert.

I watched from under the covers in my little nest of a bed.

This morning my Homo Sanctus aka The Tearfuldishwasher set out for a few days solo retreat. Off he went with his blanket and zafu, water and apples to sit under the open sky and chant his prayers. Suddenly the house was so silent it was almost assaultive. We spend almost every waking and sleeping moment together. It’s that feeling of going out and leaving your baby for the first time. How you keep turning to see how or where he/she is. How you feel the empty space in your soul where they live and something feels off. I have always relished my alone time. Longed for it and soaked it up like a dry sponge thrown in a bath fragrant with lavender and rose oil. Monday mornings in our stick house when everyone was off to work and school I would luxuriate in the silence and peace. Somewhere along the road that has changed. Don’t know how or why. Maybe because being together as we have been we’ve just sort of become this one unit. A two-headed, multi-limbed creature that acts as one. What a crazy thing!

Anyway, I’m not lonely, I have several fellow nomads around me if I want company and I have PROJECTS! lots of reading and eating to do. The wind is picking up so I’m tucked away in the Silver Happiness Machine about to cook up some lunch. Also I can catch up on Peaky Blinders. Life is good.

Namaste

After a couple of months moochdocking, in which we started and finished many fabulous home improvement projects, we hooked up our little space pod and headed for the wild. We landed in the Alabama Hills the first night and took a long deep cleansing breath. It was good. Nothing like that lunar landscape to settle yourself down, open that heart chakra and get you all dusty and dirty. It’s comforting to return to places we’ve been and loved well. It feels like coming home only it’s not Thanksgiving or Christmas, it’s just Wednesday and there’s nothing to do and no one to see for miles and miles. It’s just you and the sky and those mountains. The heart rate slows the breath deepens the mind lets up on all the monkey shenanigans, you find your “spot” and settle in.
We moved on.

We found a new to us spot in Bishop on the Volcanic Tablelands. Wide open views of the Sierras and a 10 minute drive to town. We explored the petroglyphs down Fish Slough Rd, which were astounding. Messages from the past to ponder.
We moved on.
We drove 6+ miles down a bone crunching washboard road to another amazingly beautiful spot called the Rainbow Basin. Just 10 miles outside Barstow CA. We arrived at the Owl Canyon Campground just as the sun was setting. I felt myself “settle” a few more levels. The deep silence and beauty of that place was mind-blowing. It didn’t even matter that every jar in our fridge was twisted open and tossed around all our food. Kimchi, bread and butter and dill pickles, soy sauce and mustard all soaked into everything in there. It might have made a mighty fine salad dressing or sauce for ramen had I the desire to cook a meal. I did not.
We hiked the canyon in the morning and found a niche to sit in which I’m pretty sure only appeared for us and then closed when we left. It’s that kind of place.

On the way out and back to town we stopped to check the fridge and set things right before our longish drive and found the sonic jiggle bath our little trailer took this time,  had opened the sink faucet and flooded the entire house! We threw down every towel we own, cleaned up the under sink cabinet and drove on knowing everything would be dry before we got to our next stop. And so it was. At least everything in the fridge stayed put and we got to do a major house cleaning and laundry! See? Nothing is f*&ked dude! I lit some candles and burned some sage and went and soaked in a sacred pool.

All is well.
For now.

Sometimes we find ourselves in a park between a Safeway and the world’s largest ammo depot in one of the most depressing towns I’ve ever seen.

Sometimes you catch a stomach bug and it holds on hard making you grateful for the unlimited water and showers at said park.

Sometimes mice invade your Airstream eating your quinoa. I’m not that crazy about quinoa anyway so I’m not going to cry about that.

Sometimes you listen to an interview with a kkk leader and a Latina journalist and he calls her a mongrel right to her face and it makes you cry because you’re a mongrel too and you can’t stomach the bold and gleeful way some people hate.

The fanciest and prettiest thing in this town. The sequined mini mart sign.

Every room in this charming motel had the same silver drapes in the windows. Your best bet for blocking alien transmissions.

Of course there’s beauty everywhere and I can usually catch glimpses in among the trash but this gift seems to have abandoned me for the moment. It will return, that much I know.

We hadn’t planned on staying in Twin Falls more than a day or two at the most but we were there for a week. That’s how it goes when you don’t make plans, arrangements or reservations. We fly by the seat of our pants and it works out for the most part since we prefer boondocking to RV Parks or campgrounds. Summer is tricky though because it means we need an RV park to survive the brutal heat we sometimes find ourselves in and we need to get into a park mid-week and plan on staying through the weekend to get a space among the hoards of other RVers out on their summer adventures.

Anything above 90 degrees is most unbearable in the Airstream. It becomes an oven and we become baked humans.

And so we found ourselves in Twin Falls, Idaho in a county park that is both beautiful and sketchy. There were equal parts big expensive RV’s and rusted out tin bucket trailers. There was a young couple with two small baby girls next to us. No vehicle, just an old trailer. Their story: they came from Utah after a job for the husband but the boss showed up drunk and the wife punched him out and there went the job. They had someone tow them out there, no vehicle of their own. They’re stranded. They fight, they play, the husband walks miles to the grocery store for food and sometimes the babies play outside with their kitten.

Everyone we met in Twin Falls was friendly and open. We heard a lot of personal stories within the first few sentences spoken. It was a little surreal and a big contrast to Boise where again we needed cool air. We found an RV park right on the Greenbelt where you can hike or ride your bike along the river for 25 miles or so. Parts of it are beautiful and well maintained and the rest of it isn’t.  We hit the Boise Art Museum and saw an interesting collection of the 20th century “Masters” like Pollock, Rothko and O’Keefe. It was the strangest show! I thought it all looked murky and sad. It could have been the lighting but it also felt like the artist’s least successful works. The O’Keefe was awful. I’ve never seen an O’Keefe I didn’t like! I have now.

We also went to the movies. I always look for the “hippie theater” in any town and Boise has an awesome one. The Flicks. It has an indoor and outdoor cafe with food and wine and beer and they were showing Maudie which was wonderful. Go see it!

very cool sculpture by Brad Rude at the Boise Art Museum

It was unbearably hot and I was happy to leave Boise for the Sawtooth National Forest where it’s cool and one of the most beautiful places we’ve been. Mountains and rivers, bike trails and hot springs, cell signal and town close by!  Everything. We were greeted by a hail storm, always a little unnerving when you live in a tin can. I’ve seen some big ass dents on some Airstreams made by hail.

We’ve met up with a fellow nomad and are camping together for a few days in a valley close to the town of Ketchum.

The clouds are moving in again.

And so it goes.

Down a long bumpy dirt road through the forest there is a clearing, almost a perfect circle. That’s where we were just a few short days ago. Camped on the edge surrounded by Ponderosa Pine just outside of Flagstaff. The ground is a mix of low growing lupine, yarrow and various other unidentified tiny flowers that glow and shimmer in the morning sun. When we arrived the sky was a moody indigo, dead quiet except for the occasional thunder in the distance. The absolute opposite of where we came from.

Phoenix was white bright and the heat, assaultive. Overwhelming traffic, a mass of people and an endless array of commerce, all happening at full speed.  I think this must be a symptom of aging. The world seems to be speeding by too fast to take it all in. It was a short but intense visit. My son Peter was competing for the Mr Arizona title and he won! I’m so incredibly proud of the man he’s become, his hard work and dedication. I’ve never seen such discipline. He’s a force of nature. The most gentle giant. We celebrated his win with his beautiful, smart and funny wife Pam and her parents and friends. If one is judged by the friends they keep, he comes up a winner in that regard as well. Having such loyal, supportive and loving people in your life is a great gift.

Going from one extreme to the other left me a little stunned. There was no flow from one state of being/place to another, the city one moment and the forest the next. The contrast was so great and so abrupt it took a while to fully process and though we wanted to stay a few days to sit in the quiet, the rains were soaking the earth making little lakes everywhere and turning the dirt road into an orange soupy mess. We decided to get, while the getting was good.

We drove north up 89 through the Navajo nation and made it to the border of Utah where we found another magical spot but the HEAT!!! No longer at altitude we spent a miserable night baking in our little ship. I could not wait for morning to break camp and continue on into Utah to an RV park, any one would do as long as we could hook up our little ship and blast the air. We landed in Provo and after setting up camp, we went and had tacos at 180 Tacos. Falafel tacos! The best thing we did in Provo.

Next up. Twin Falls Idaho at the Rocky Creek RV Park, a sweet little county park tucked behind a quarry. A little hidden oasis not very far from the Shoshone Falls, the Niagara Falls of the west, the scene of Evel Knievels epic 1974 fail to fly his skyrocket across the Snake river canyon. The launch pad is still there and it begs the question, what the what? Who would imagine they could ride their motorcycle rocket across that giant chasm? Napoleon Dynamite’s Uncle Rico comes to mind, betting he could throw that football over those mountains.

It was a good 4 mile walk and the falls are beautiful. This whole area is such a surprise to me. I pictured mountains and forests but it’s flat as a pancake. Where the hell is all the water for such a huge waterfall coming from? A river and a giant hole in the earth make up the whole show.

This world!!!

XXOO

Ahhh, Mammoth Lakes. The perfect landing spot after a long long spell at Tearful’s Dad’s house. The moochdocking was superb. The grounds of Chez Odom Compound are spectacular. An amazing cactus garden, olive trees, live oaks and a swimming pool. Who could ask for more? Oh, and two of the most gracious and beautiful souls I was sad to say goodbye to. We had a great visit. Peaky Blinders binge watching, swimming and long walks everyday, gorgeous meals and precious times with the grandbabies.

Mammoth is experiencing an endless winter this year. I’d been reading about the 20′ snow storms they were having all winter, back to back it seemed.  People are still skiing here and expect to be doing so until August. Meanwhile, it’s sweltering in our little tin can. 88 degrees and so on in the afternoons. Between the altitude and the heat it’s been a little tricky. We hiked up Sherwin Creek Trail one day, 3 slow grudging miles up and 3 easy miles down through aspen, redwoods and wildflowers and at the top a gorgeous lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains. There are lakes after lakes after lakes around here. We tried to hike up Crystal Crag but the snow hid the trail from us! We hiked almost all the way around Twin lakes but part of it was under water. We also took our inflatable kayak out for its maiden voyage on Twin Lakes and it was absolutely perfect. Our little 2 man/woman kayak was easy to inflate and easy to set into the lake and paddle away.

Fourth of July weekend is upon us and the town of Mammoth Lakes is a madhouse. We ventured forth for supplies and scurried back to our camp for lunch. Scott made us cheese and egg croissant and ice coffee for lunch and I spent the rest of the afternoon sewing patches on a pair of boring pants. They’re quite lively now I’ve added little ball fringe to the hems.

And here come the afternoon winds which can be quite aggressive and oh so welcome in this heat.

The natural beauty of this place is unbelievable.  Towering giant mountains, fragrant forests of pine and dancing aspen, wild iris, indian paint brush, columbine,  massive waterfalls, rushing rivers and crystal lakes. Birds near our camp converge in the sage and have long conversations. I don’t know why they conjure up old Russian women gossiping. Butterflies fluttering by.  It is breathtaking.  It feels holy. I keep trying to imagine what winters must be like here. Being a Puerto Rican girl, I’m not terribly fond of snow and cold but I can almost see the magic of this place covered in a white frozen silence.

As much as I love this place, I’m ready to leave. There are so many roads beckoning.

It’s been so grand to be camped just down the hill from our nomad friends once again. Outdoors Is Free/Chris, Melissa and Hayley. Young, beautiful, awake and radiating love and sweetness. Hayley, the wonder dog came to our rescue and spent an evening scaring away some mice that were trying to settle into the Airstream.  Chris’ mom made a surprise visit from Vermont (!) and we got to spend a wonderful evening talking story under the awning.  One of the many gifts of this life. Evenings out in the wild with friends, delectable meals at neighborhood restaurants, some pretty bad ones too! And always the sweet expectation of the next place and the next. I feel beyond lucky to be here. News of the world creeps in and makes me gasp in horror and personal heart breaks crash over me like tsunamis. Life doesn’t let up til we’re dead. Until then I rejoice in the beauty and fall to my knees at the horrors.

That’s just how it is.

We bid adieu to our beloved Saguaro sentinels in the southern Arizona desert and have landed in Borrego Springs right outside the amazing Anza Borrego State Park. , the largest state park in California. The winter rains have made conditions perfect for a Super Bloom this year and it is spectacular. The desert is positively lush and exploding in bright pops of color. I am over the moon in love with springtime in the desert.

We drove into one of our old spots and noticed the desert lilies blooming everywhere and when it’s hot enough and we’re walking out through the desert trails, the fragrance is sweet and so lovely. We’ve walked and biked the trails here and out to Clark Lake where we discovered a tiny rock house at the edge of the dry lake bed. The latch was held together with a rusty nail and inside were a pair of men’s work boots, an empty beer bottle and some rocks on a shelf and nothing else around for miles. That quiet, the brilliant blue sky, the purple, orange and yellow flowers blooming in and around the rocks and those big wrinkled up old mountains where the coyotes sleep in their dens… it’s like having the prettiest, biggest, most delicious birthday cake served up to you with your favorite scoop of ice cream.

There are lots of nooks and crannies in the desert. It always serves you up something unexpected and weird and beautiful. We found this…

along with $1.77 in change.

A short climb up the hills to our west we found this…

Our camp is closer to the road than I would prefer but it’s the only spot for even a crappy signal. No tv for me this week!

Then there’s the town of Borrego Springs itself. A sleepy little place mostly but now that Super Bloom is here it’s crawling with people and cameras. There’s a sweet little library that provides free wifi for all us nomads, even when it’s closed there are benches outside where you can sit with your”appliances” and peek into the outside world. There are at least 4 Mexican restaurants, it is California after all, but only one does a Taco Tuesday and it’s the best in my estimation. El Borrego right on the main drag. There’s a carpeted outside patio where the super blooms are pushing through.

On Tuesday nights it fills up quickly and the owner always has a smile and a joke. Last night we went and he came out with a bucket of lighter fluid that he threw into the fire pit. Free fire show with dinner.

We have another favorite in town, the Red Ocotillo. We love to have second breakfast there, otherwise known as elevensies. The food is really good, especially love their garlicky potatoes, but it’s always a little on the slow side.  What I’ve heard the locals call Borrego Time.

The Central Market is a trip. A warren of little rooms filled with your normal eggs, milk, bread, produce, meat market etc and the most eclectic collection of food stuffs I’ve ever seen. They have everything you need except olive oil (?). Toys, clothes, camping stuff among all kinds of gourmet food and herbal tinctures on tap! All at a premium price. It’s that place or Walmart an hour away which I hear is where the locals shop.

One of the things I’ve come to love about this lifestyle is the friends we’ve made on the road. There’s an amazing subculture of the most unique and wonderful individuals I’ve ever met. All sizes and stripes. Each and every one feels like a gift sent from the universe. We meet and camp together, spend nights under the stars talking story sharing meals, hiking and then we leave and go our separate ways and a few days or weeks later we meet somewhere else and it’s like Christmas!  Intimacy grows faster out here. There are those meetings that stay surface and friendly but more often things go deep quickly. It seems like people “out here” have less use for the masks we tend to wear in normal society. It’s refreshing and nourishing.

There are big CHANGES in the wind. I am practicing Truth, Surrender and Trust. I invite you to do the same.

Namaste.

15 months we’ve been on the road. Life is good. While I’ve begun to keep a paper record of when and where we’ve been, I’m finding it difficult to keep up here. I am finding a rhythm of sorts.

Sporadic Rhythm.

We’ve spent the last two months camping with friends throughout the desert. We’ve found some amazing places and people, finding sporadic rhythm between socializing and solitude. At the moment we’re alone in the desert close to the Mexican border.

Just outside a town called Ajo.

7 Things I like about Ajo:

1. There’s excellent boondocking only 2 miles out-of-town.

2. There’s 1 good restaurant, relieving us of trying to decide where to eat and making delicious meals at home instead. Hello hummus, avocado and fried egg sandwich! Thanks oh Tearful One!

3. A groovy boutique, gallery and Shaman’s Market in town that sells creosote oil and salve! Among many other groovy things.

4. The Olsen’s Supermarket and Hardware Store where they sell these:

along with paint and sewing supplies.

5. JB’s

6.  The gorgeous Curley School built in 1919  currently being used as an art space and Artisan’s Apartment complex. There’s a two bedroom currently available for $540 a month! First time I’ve been tempted since we’ve been on the road. They’ve got a clay studio and a wood shop open to the community as well as community gardens. I’m smitten!

7. Immaculate Conception Church in Ajo…

Originally  Ajo was a copper mining town, the place was built and designed in 1915 to keep the miners happy and productive. It all went to shit in the 1980’s and a few years later they started calling Ajo the place “Where Summer Spends Winter” in an effort to attract Snowbirds. It doesn’t seem to be working. While the town has a certain charm, it also has a sad downtrodden sort of vibe. Most of the shops around the beautiful little plaza are empty, making it feel like a ghost town.

So around the same time that Ajo was being designed and built,  Scottie’s great grandma Lola on the other side of the continent, was designing and making this quilt…

It was one of the few things I did not part with when The Big Parting happened. While the stitching still looks great and is holding up pretty well for its age, some of the fabrics are shredding. I’ve begun patching over those tatters keeping a similar palette. Enjoying the slow stitching. I marvel at those elaborate stitches I don’t recognize and can’t begin to work out. I try to imagine what the suit or dress looked like before it got tossed into the fabric scrap pile.  There’s a mustardy brown color that could have been a suit. I’ve no doubt it’s wearer must have felt mighty fine in it.

This morning we came upon an abandoned homestead. A trash pile really. People actually do that shit.  I can understand that it may have been too much effort to take all your clothes and kitchen items to a Goodwill or a dump. Maybe you were drunk and broke and alone, or trying to care for a kid, and you had no choice. That’s what it looked like this morning. A small woman with tiny feet and a weakness for plaid shirts and moccasins. Who tried to stay healthy, there was a juicer, and a slow cooker. She made an effort, but something when terribly wrong.

Maybe I’ve been in the desert too long. I’m communing with ghosts and spirits. Past and present, my own and other’s.

But that’s ok, I feel mighty fine.

Hasta Luego.

Did that really just happen?

A few days ago I was walking through Washington Square Park watching a man playing with pigeons and the next I’m sitting in my jammies having coffee in my very own home on wheels. This world is a miracle.

It was the sweetest thing. Our trip to NY was so amazing and wonderFull! Everything was perfect. Even the whole flying through the air in a giant steel bird thing went well.

The city never felt or looked so good. We walked it until we both had blisters on our toes. We ate decadent food and drank delicious beverages. We celebrated a new marriage, made our family larger, met an old friend (LOVE you Rosemary!) for the first time, walked the Highline, visited the Monk’s temple and listened to the nuns chant.

Now we’re back in the “fake desert”.  The sky IS bigger, the mountain tops are dusted with snow and the palm trees are still for the moment. The winds will pick up any minute now and make them do their crazy dance. This world is a miracle.

We’re staying put for another day or so while Tearful recuperates from a cold.

I’m going through my photos and will probably load em up to Instagram in the coming days.

NAMASTE.

Those crazy boys are gone and I am so happy to be missing them.

It’s like the pain of childbirth. Unendurable while it’s happening but the memory fades enough to where some of us actually choose to do it again and again. It’s because they’re so dang cute.

So now we’re back to our quiet little lives in our tidy space ship. I never did get the full-fledged crud everyone else got. Maybe I will but I feel like I dodged that bullet. Thank you gods!

Winter has come to the fake desert and we have settled into a routine of sorts. Yoga, soaking, reading and trips into town. Palm Springs mostly. I liked it from the start and it continues to charm me. It has a definite Liberace gone wild vibe. Who doesn’t love that?

Today we had elevensies at Cheeky’s where we sat next to a couple of 50 something year old men who were discussing Harry Potter in great DETAIL for the entire meal. I had the Chilaquiles which do not win my coveted Best Chilaquiles Award and Himself had the Eggs Benedict which were served on a cheese scone. We’ll be going back for the french toast because… pannetone french toast w/ creme anglaise and fresh cranberry.

It’s Krampusnacht tonight. Hide your kids, hide your wife!

Be safe everybody!

Some days you have to turn off the news
and listen to the bird or truck
or the neighbor screaming out her life.
You have to close all the books and open
all the windows so that whatever swirls
inside can leave and whatever flutters
against the glass can enter. Some days
you have to unplug the phone and step
out to the porch and rock all afternoon
and allow the sun to tell you what to do.
The whole day has to lie ahead of you
like railroad tracks that drift off into gravel.
Some days you have to walk down the wooden
staircase through the evening fog to the river,
where the peach roses are closing,
sit on the grassy bank and wait for the two geese.

Philip Terman

It was the first time we’d  lived in the trailer without power in 93 degree heat. Well,it was 93 in the trailer. Only 91 outside. There was the smallest but most delicious breeze whispering over the river making it comfortable enough to sit outside under the shade of the awning and what I’m calling a weeping pine, can’t find what it really is. I had feared the heat much more than the cold. One can add layers and fire up the propane heater or sit in front of a fire outside but there is no remedy for the heat without ac and the heat just does me in. But there we were.

Not done in yet.

That was a couple of days ago. It was a beautiful campsite complete with wild burros coming to visit every evening and ducks landing at the river’s edge

Then the boats started. Those really loud, really shiny expensive looking things with people in helmets at the wheel going so fast they appear to be riding above the water. And the jet ski people and the water skiing people. One after another after another. The noise wore us down and we left. Came back to the desert where no one else is around and we can sit outside under the mesquite trees which provide perfectly adequate shade.

Not done in yet.

Our friend Bob Wells of cheaprvliving.com interviewed us on his You Tube channel. Thank you Bob! And Thank You everyone for all the nice comments.