I had Tim sent to prison. He hates when I say that. So...

Tim's in prison!
Tim's in prison!
Tim's in prison!

Just like last year.

Alene called up, said she had a job opening for at least two months and within a week, we hit the road. Our goal when we get back is to do a final push (fine - for Tim to do a final push), get the house on the market by spring and sell that sucker so we can full time in the bus.

Yes, I know our timing couldn't be better with the way housing prices are, but hey - diesel prices are definitely declining (for now).

Since Alene doesn't do much internet, I'll repeat here what I said about her in QUEEN OF THE ROAD:

Alene is one of my best friends from residency. We’re about as different as friends can be: She was never interested in private practice. She had no patience for patients with “issues.” She wanted to go where the need was greatest, to treat the sickest of the sick, so she became the first female psychiatrist to work on San Quentin’s death row. Now she’s chief of psychiatry at Pelican Bay State Prison, which houses some of California’s most dangerous inmates. And we’re still about as different as friends can be: I wear designer duds. She wears a slash-proof vest. I go to Mr. Lai for tailoring. She gets her fittings at the armory. When I’m interviewed for a new contract, it’s on the phone in the safety and comfort of my own home. When she interviews for a job, she must first sign a waiver acknowledging the “no hostage policy” (and this after passing the sign helpfully informing all comers “NO WARNING SHOTS FIRED.”) She always laughed at me for my sheltered life. I always told her, “Thank God for sheltered.” After the bus thing, I bet she thinks my life is less sheltered. Then again, maybe not.

We spent an afternoon with Alene and her partner, Debra, at their lovely home near San Luis Obispo. As a dog person (who is also allergic to cats, but has acclimated to ours over the years), Tim could not understand their living with eight felines (they also had one very understanding terrier). I promptly informed him that if I were living alone, I’d probably have twice that number. He wasn’t so much impressed as horrified. Debra, ever the caring hostess, laid out towels for us and offered that we use their shower and other indoor plumbing, thinking that surely living in a bus for a year meant we’d been roughing it. As I said, it’s Alene and I who have been close.

We're staying at the same RV Park as last year - the exact same spot, as a matter-of-fact (let's just say they're not real busy during what's supposed to be the rainy season), right on the beach:

Although, it can get crowded at times:

The guy would be certifiable, if I could catch him to do the evaluation. Not that I tried - or would want to. It's probably best to keep one's distance from a guy who's idea of a good time is to fly sitting in a glorified lawn chair with a leaf blower attached to the back. Just 'cause he's a bit off, why should I suffer?

Finally... just a quick word about dearreader.com. It's a free and utterly fabulous site for book lovers. I've been a "subscriber" (remember, it's free) for years. You can sign up for books in any genre, then every week, Monday through Friday, Suzanne Beecher sends you an email with an excerpt. By Friday, you've read the entire first chapter. It's a great way to be exposed to a lot of books so you can decide what you then want to buy or check out of a library. I'm mentioning it now, because QUEEN OF THE ROAD is going to be the nonfiction selection for the week of November 3rd. We're also including an author chat, so I encourage you all to sign up and head on over.

You and your democracies. Return to the monarchy, subjects - all is forgiven!