Full Disclosure

This is the view from the back patio of the nearly-ours house. The mountain in the background, across the 18th fairway, is called Mt. Hood and is 2730' high. Mr. T. insists this is tall enough to be called a mountain.



We have had to read and sign about a million pages of papers in order to buy this house. Everyone has a finger in the pot and I figure every paragraph exists because some lawyer got involved in some transaction since the first real estate office opened.

The disclosure statement for the property was pure pleasure. If these are considered warnings to the buyer I shudder to think what people in other places might have to confess. What does one have to disclose about a house in Amityville? What about Newark? What hazards would have to be put on paper in a city like Detroit? Nowhere else is the warning "Buyer Beware" more applicable than when buying a house. Barking dogs? Somebody died in the house? Poison molds? Gasses? Floods? Serial killers in the 'hood?


Here is what was disclosed to us!

A golf course at the end of the property!

Well, duh, as the kids say. Be kind of hard to miss. And this disclosure drove the property value up considerably! We don't put the golf course in the hazardous waste category.

The 2nd disclosure was the presence of WINERIES AND VINEYARDS in the area.

Again, DUH! It's Sonoma County!!! They, too, are beautiful and we are delighted to be surrounded by them here in the Valley of the Moon.

The 3rd disclosure was the presence of WILDLIFE!

This is so much nicer than finding out the house was built on a toxic waste site. The quail, deer, rabbits, turkeys and all that are always wandering by. A baby quail is called a Button. Here in SeniorLand, quail have the right of way on all roads.



I am choosing to keep the TV off during the political conventions. That is truly depressing. However, making our first check of the backyard and gathering up 39 golf balls was like being a kid on an Easter egg hunt! If I take up golf, I will never have to buy golf balls.

I have to warn my readers--I am completely absorbed in completing the house transaction, hiring painters and floor layers, getting furniture delivered after nearly one year in storage and preparing for an Alaskan cruise with my oldest friend and our mothers. If you want political commentary go read Drudge

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Summer is almost over--and Mr. T and I realized we hadn't taken the RV out for a single trip. Of course with the price of gas being more than gold that's not surprising, but still, one must at least make a token summer excursion. With that in mind we decided we could spare 4 days for our Summer Vacation.

The food was purchased, the Minnie readied, dogs' papers located--in short, we were ready to roll. And then we found out an offer we had made on a house had been accepted! It must have been the shortest haggling session on record because in about 90 minutes--after 9 months of 'no home'--we were suddenly back on the board!

In the midst of the phone calls and paperwork, we took off for Chester next to Lassen National Park in Plumas County. Why Chester? Because 17 years ago, as we hiked to the top of Mt. Lassen, an 89 year old hiker told us the best milkshakehe'd ever has was made in Chester! We have remembered that hot tip all these years and "going to Chester to check out the milkshakes" has been on our list of things to do "SOMEDAY."

Our first night was spent at the Woodson Bridge RV Park in Corning, CA. It was a wonderful campground right on the Sacramento River. It was peaceful and calming. Peaceful and Calm we were not.

In our first day and a half away from home I discovered I'd left my clothes at home; I fell down the river bank and scraped my knees, leg, and elbow; Mr. T discovered too late we were supposed to pick up the rental car on Saturday and when we went to get it on Sunday, we had to pay the full 3 days' rental fee because our 2 free days coupon was no good without a Saturday night; and, to finish off the vacation start--Mr. T was badly stung/bit by some nefarious bug which landed him in the Chester Clinic for a going-over and tetanus shot!

Not to be discouraged we forged ahead with our milkshake mission. I am sorry to report that the Chester soda fountain--in operation since 1946--only produced mediocre milkshakes. Alas--another legend bites the dust.

Hint to future travelers: IF YOU ARE DRIVING AN RV DO NOT TAKE CALIFORNIA HIGHWAY 32 FROM CHICO TO CHESTER.

It was a white knuckler all the way and the poor RV steering wheel has new indentations in it. There was almost no clearance! Sharp rocks on the sides or sheer drop off down the mountain--and very narrow lanes. I was doing triage in my mind over motoring possibilities--if I come upon a bicyclist, the cyclist loses. If I come upon a vehicle crossing over the line on a curve, there is no backing down. Anybody on foot is a goner.

The mountains are beautiful--clear streams, lakes, trees--all that mountain usual stuff. We passed through several burned out areas and that was hard to see. Everything still smelled of smoke and burned wood.

Check the photo gallery for pictures of Mt. Lassen and Bumpass Hell. And more about the house later after we catch our breath!

http://pictures.aol.com/galleries/toccata/

Solzhenitsyn

"It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good.

Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts.

This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. Even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained, and even in the best of all hearts, there remains a small corner of evil...If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them.

But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

And Now For Something Completely Different....

Carwash Photography
I am a firm believer that anything to do with cars is a guy job. However, I found myself taking a car through a carwash on my last trip to Bakersfield. To overcome encroaching feelings of claustrophobia I snapped these shots as some unseen mechanism pulled the car into the dark tunnel. Fortunately, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, when I clicked my heels I was still in Bakersfield.