Mama and Papa Duck

These are my two favorite ducks. I call them Mama Duck and Papa Duck. The have visited me every year for seven years. They think my condo's swimming pool is a pond. As you can see from the short video, they are friendly. Still, they are technically wild ducks.

Every April, I wait for them to return. The day I see them swimming in the pool, I become very happy! It's a sure sign of spring. About every other year, they have babies. In my opinion, there is nothing much cuter than a baby duck. One year, all the babies got trapped in the swimming pool. They couldn't jump high enough to get out onto the deck. Mama Duck was very concerned. But I came to rescue. I got the pool cleaning wand and one by one lifted them out. They just waddled away.

Last year was disappointing because Mama and Papa Duck returned to the pool at different times. I never saw them together. Mama would show up, wait awhile and leave, and then Papa would arrive. I don't know if they every hooked up. So no babies last year. And no babies so far this year. I saw Mama and Papa Duck just yesterday.

I have loved ducks since I was child. My family's next door neighbors, Helen and Sam, had a white duck named Louie. He was a very friendly duck. But what I remember most about Louie was the mess he made. Our neighbors' concrete patio was a slimy mess thanks to Louie.

If I lived somewhere where I could have a duck as a pet, I would have one. I would also have two chickens.

The garbage train

If you ever visit my office in Edmonds, Wash., you do not want to be about 50 yards west, at the railroad tracks, at 1 p.m. That's when the Seattle Garbage Train passes by. It's a train of about 60-70 cars, each stacked two-high with big white cargo containers filled with garbage headed east from Seattle over the Cascades to be dumped far from the crowds. The reason you do not want to be there is that the train stinks.

A friend of mine lives about a mile north of my office, right along the tracks -- which are just a few yards from the shore of Puget Sound. He says that if he's in his backyard when the Garbage Train passes he has to go inside.

I believe the empty westbound train passes by early in the morning. Even though it's empty, it still reeks of garbage! If they were to give this train a name, I think it should be "Old Stinky."

Too many pens

Now this is embarrassing. What you see in this picture are five coffee mugs, each filled mostly with pens. This is from my home. Two of the mugs are from my desk. One is from the top of a bookshelf in my living room. One is from on top of a floor-model 1940s Motorola radio in my dining room. The other is from my kitchen counter. I do not know how many pens there are except "too many."

I bet I did not buy more than a dozen of these pens. Most were giveaways. Some of these pens have traveled a bit. About a half dozen are from Best Western Hotels. There's one from the Silver Legacy Hotel in Reno and one from the University of Redlands Alumni Association that says "Alumni Make a Difference." Two pens came from Gregory B Moulton DDS with the message "Family Dentistry with a Gentle Touch." I have never heard of Dr. Moulton. There's a pen from Chuck's RV, and one that simply says #1 Grandpa. I am not a grandpa, so nobody gave me that pen.

I bet I have another 100 pens in drawers. It's ridiculous. Why does a person need so many pens? I could easily get by with about a half dozen blue ones, a couple of black ones, and maybe a red one or two. I don't think I would ever need a green pen.

The problem with having too many pens is that:
--It's really hard to make yourself throw away something that still works.
--You can't give them to other people because they have too many pens, too.
--You can't sell them because they're worthless.

And to think that ballpoint pens were once an amazing, expensive thing! The first big success selling ballpoint pens came in 1945 when Gimbels Department Store sold 10,000 in one day at $12.50 each! People lined up outside the store to buy one. A lot of people tried to invent a ballpoint pen before then, starting in the late 1800s. But the pens never worked right. In 1952 a Frenchman named Marcel Bich hit it big when he introduced the "Ballpoint Bic," which is known today as the Bic.

So what should I do with all my pens. Have any ideas?

A good back scratch is an excellent thing

Do you like your back scratched or rubbed? I know many people who would rather have it scratched. I grew up in a family of back scratchers. To this day, I need my back scratched. It's not that my back actually itches: it's the pleasure of a back scratch. If I close my eyes when getting my back scratched, I can fall into a trance and even hallucinate. Who needs drugs?

A back RUB is nice. I enjoy a back rub. But when given a choice between a back rub and a back scratch, I will take a back scratch every time.

I own a couple of back scratching devices so I can scratch my own back. The best ones are made out of wood. You can buy them for a dollar. They work okay, but offer only modest satisfation. The best people for back scratchers are those with long fingernails. People who bite their nails are almost worthless.

If there were a device available like the one shown on this page, I would buy it.

One very significant reason to have a spouse is to have a live-in back scratcher. People who crave back scratches should avoid marrying someone who is reluctant to scratch. Kids are good, too, but they often don't have much patience, so they are kind of a hit-and-miss thing.

I do not own a dog. But if a dog could be taught to scratch backs, I would definitely get one.

There are many businesses where you can pay for a back rub. But I have never seen one where you can pay for a back scratch. If there were such a business, I would be a good customer.

A TERRIBLE THING TO A PERSON LIKE ME who craves back scratches is to be in the same room as someone who is getting one. It's almost painful to watch, because you start thinking of how good it feels, and then your back really, really starts to itch, and you can hardly stand it.

If I were as rich as Bill Gates, I would hire a full-time back scratcher. I would give the person other chores, too, because you need frequent breaks from back scratches so your mind can have time to crave another one. Part of the pleasure of a good back scratch is the anticipation of getting it. As far as the actual back scratch, the first 90 seconds are by far the best. This is when you get goose bumps. When you no longer get goose bumps, then a back scratch is still good but it's more of a relaxing thing than a stimulator of dopamine, the feel-good drug your body releases during great pleasure.

Now that I have written this, I really need a back scratch. If you like back scratches, then you probably do, too. Sorry about that.

So what do you prefer? A back scratch or a back rub?

RVing without a schedule means freedom

I wrote last week in my RVtravel.com newsletter about a rude letter I'd received from a reader about my essay two issues before. The essay was about two mediocre RV parks where I had stayed.

And, again, I received letters. Many people told me I could avoid crummy RV parks by simply using the Trailer Life or Woodall's directories to find a park along my route with a good rating, and make a reservation.

Well, the fact is, my style of traveling does not usually mesh well with planning ahead. I don't like making reservations. And I see no need for them in the off-season when most RV parks are wide open.

So, when it's time to call it a day, I rely on billboards and what I observe alongside the highway: if I spot a park that looks good, I pull in. Sometimes they are fine, sometimes they are lousy. But, frankly, I don't care very much. Because I earn my living writing about RVing, it's good for me to see the good and the bad and the ugly. I'm talking only about overnight stops here, not places for extended stays (where I would definitely consult a directory, plan ahead and make a reservation).

SOME RVers LIVE BY THEIR SCHEDULES. They have their travel days all planned before they set out. I don't: I like to stop a lot. If I pull into a small town cafe and meet somebody interesting, I may stay and chat for an hour or two. Heck, I've had people ask me to stay in their homes or park in their driveways. Some of my most memorable RVing experiences have come from those encounters. If I come across a great museum, I might spend an afternoon there. If it's a gorgeous day, I might pause in a city park for hours to read or write at a picnic table or take a nap. Only rarely am I in a hurry to get somewhere. For me, RV travel is almost always about the journey and not the destination.

Without a reservation set in stone, I can linger as long as I want in a place without having to look at my watch and say, "Oh, gotta go. I'm due at the RV park 100 miles up the road in two hours." I love RVing because I can travel at my own pace; I can turn left when the road looks more interesting than turning right. My "motel room" is with me. If worse comes to worse when darkness comes I can pull into a parking lot or rest area for the night. But put me on a schedule where I have to show up at a certain place at the end of the day, and I'd just as soon drive a car and stay in a motel, where I can show up at midnight.

Now, just to clarify. I DO make reservations in the tourist season, but usually only when I plan to stay for more than a day or two. And, for the record, in the tourist season, I'll take a state park or national forest campground over an RV park almost anytime.