HOW DID PHEEBS GET HER NAME & WE ARE DOWN TO OUR LAST DAY & A HALF

MANAGED A COUPLE QUICK SHOTS OF THIS COUNTRY HOUSE AS WE WENT FLYING BY TODAY…(NO COLOR ENHANCEMENT)

Two of my favorite food items are hard to find in the States.  Natural peanut butter & creamed honey.  Zehr’s Supermarket in Goderich carries the salt & sugar free 26 ounce natural peanut butter I prefer so had dropped in a couple days ago to pick up a couple jars.  I was in one of my penny pinching moods again & balked at the $6.19 per jar price tag.  Left the store empty handed.  But what to do about my daily peanut butter fix.  I relented this morning & decided to bite the bullet & go back & pick up a couple jars anyway.  Imagine my surprise after I sullenly trudged up the aisle expecting my wallet to part with another 15 dollar bill & found my peanut butter on sale for $2.99 a jar.  I grabbed 6 of em & ran like nuts for the cashier.  Felt so good about that I splurged for a vendor’s hot dog outside the entrance of Zehr’s & split it with Pheebs who was waiting patiently in the Jeep.  We snagged a few more photos on the way home.

 

A reader asked how we arrived at the name Pheebs for the Pheebs.  The family who had her before we did named her Evelyn & we knew we wanted to change that.  We did notice they called her ‘Evie’ for short.  Took us awhile to think of a name & I mentioned to Kelly one day driving to Mitchell Ontario to see my Uncle Harry that we should try to think of a name that rhymed with Evie.  Figured it would be easier for Pheebs to learn a new & similar sounding name.  Kelly right away came up with the name Phoebe & that was it.  Pheebs official name is Phoebe but I naturally got into the habit of calling her Pheebs.  On rare occasions when I need to get her immediate  attention I will bark out a loud 'Phoebe' & she comes running right quick.  And what is my pet name for the Pheebs.......'Bugs or Bugsy':))  Our little Motormouse's real name was Cora & I called her 'Beans or Beansy'.  In fact I just remembered a few paragraphs I wrote in a post back in 2010 about my nicknames for our Bayfield Bunch dogs.  It's called, SIR FROG-A-LOG, LADY FLOP-A-LOT & LITTLE WEINERLY BEANS  The paragraphs begin about half way through my post…………..:))

PHEEBS LIKES LAYING ON OUR CARPORT’S COOL CONCRETE FLOOR WHILE SOAKING UP WARMING RAYS FROM THE SUN

I think many Snow Birds might agree that about 80 to 90% of all packing done for a long trip gets done in the last couple days before travel.  If too much is packed a month or more before hand there is a good chance it is going to be shuffled around & re-packed again & again.  I think Kelly has already taken more clothes back out of the rig than she had put in the rig this past month or so.  Clothes aren't a big thing for me & I have a tendency to wear the same half dozen clothing items I have year after year.  In some cases I could almost substitute the word years for decades.

BEEN GETTING THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE RIG’S DASH TWEAKED OUT

 

PHEEBS KEEPS AN EYE ON OUR BUSY BEE ACTIVITIES TO DAY & WE PROBABLY WON’T TRAVEL WITH FULL BINS AGAIN THIS YEAR

Kelly’s been very busy in the kitchen these past couple days cooking up a big batch of food to take with us when we leave in a couple days.  We’re at the stage where we are loading food oriented pantry items now.  Having a house in Arizona means we do not have to take as much stuff with us on the road as we did when we were boondocking for long periods a few years ago.  I like the idea of being able to travel lighter.

 

Despite our gas prices spiking today here is an article which may warm the hearts of traveling RVers this Fall.  DRIVERS MAY GET A NICE HOLIDAY GIFT AT THE GAS PUMP (Thanks Jan) We haven’t totally filled up the Big EEE yet since getting it last May but I’m sure we both will be staggered in a few days when we do.  With a large 75 gallon gas tank it will be our most expensive fill up since we began Snow Bird RVing back in 06.  Oh Dear:((

In part here is an interesting comment from Ed over at the THE PEREGRINATING GRAYBEARD.  Ed says, "On 25 September 2014, a new rule proposed by the U.S. Forest Service pertaining to photography and film permits sparked internet outrage. According to circulating posts about the issue, the agency would like to charge fees of up to $1,500 before allowing "commercial filming and photography in federally designated wilderness areas." When the proposal is finalized in November 2014, reporters and other media outlets who do not obtain permits could face fines of up to $1,000.  Ed's full comment can be seen in the comment section of my Thursday post.

  

Thanks to JANNA for her cordial invitation to drop by her & Mike’s western Montana ranch on our North-West-Southerly journey but it is Eastern Montana we will be briefly slipping through on our way south from Rouleau Saskatchewan to Custer South Dakota.  From Custer we plan to follow MIKE McFALL'S route down into North-Eastern Utah.

As much as I look forward to heading for the South-West in the Fall & back home to Bayfield in the Spring I always miss things when we leave for either destination.  For me heading out in the Fall one of the greatest things I will miss is sitting right here in our cozy Sunroom where I put my daily post together each night.  With big bay windows in front & to the sides of me, relaxing stereo music, big screen monitor, easily accessible & wide keyboard, a totally comfortable chair, nice soft lighting & lots of space around me to set things like cameras, atlas’s or whatever, it is a hard place to leave behind.  Along with my cushy recliner it is one of my very much most favorite spots in the whole house.  I sure have written a lot of posts sitting here over the years.  Yep, I will miss it alright but I also know my thoughts of Bayfield will quickly be left behind with each mile traveled as my mind focuses on our travels ahead.

 

GROANER’S CORNER:(( A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City. He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of spectators gathers around.  "A priest. Somebody get me a priest!" the man gasps. A policeman checks the crowd ---- no priest, no minister, no man of God of any kind.  "A PRIEST, PLEASE!" the dying man says again.  Then out of the crowd steps a little old Jewish man of at least eighty years of age.  "Mr. Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest. I'm not even a Catholic. But for fifty years now I'm living behind St. Elizabeth's Catholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I'm listening to the Catholic litany. Maybe I can be of some comfort to this man."  The policeman agreed and brought the octogenarian over to where the dying man lay. He kneels down, leans over the injured and says in a solemn voice.  "B-4. I-19. N-38. G-54. O-72. . ."