I am "borrowing" Annie's picture of the site, because my brain and clicky-finger were stunned by the temperatures. The rest of me was wondering what the H-E-double-toothpicks I was doing there when I could be anywhere but Flagstaff. Or IN Flagstaff, but indoors (thanks, Cousins!).
So, you know I have a patented, secret (I'll tell you) method for staying warm in Spud. I added some deluxe features to the package the past couple of days. I lay on a metallicized sheet, then add fluffy layers of down QUACK! on top. The final slice of blanket is another reflective sheet, with the reflection pointed toward me.
In cases of extreme cold, or need for privacy, I add a reflective panel to the hatch window, and the hatch gets closed. The Reflectix is covered with black fabric, so from the outside it doesn't look like you can't see in. It just looks like there's nothing to see. Then I add blackout curtains behind the front seats. This retains heat, but also moisture, so that I need to crack a couple of windows.
I won't go into my boudoir wardrobe. I'll leave that to your voyeuristic imagination. I'll just drop risqué hints, like "there are multiple layers," and "how do you like my insulated ski hat?"
Tonight I'm a couple thousand feet lower and forty miles souther, at a campsite WITH A TOILET - huzzah.
The following pictures are sad. They are the documentation of the death of my Pentax point-and-shoot. There was a nasty grinding sound that was too familiar, and the end of auto-focus as I know it.
If you have a suggestion for a durable, awesome, slim point-and-shoot camera, let me have it. No, the camera. Hand it over. When I get a replacement, you'll know it because there will be pictures on my blog again.
I met a nice man tonight who sized up my situation with a glance. That's both kind and disconcerting. I'd like to retain the look of a Lady Out Camping! as opposed to the look of a Lady Living in Her Car. I think it's because he's a full-timer, too, and so knows the signs. It's the way you can tell if an RV at Walmart is out for the weekend, or out for the duration.
It made me think about the question of being alright. I'm certainly alright tonight, with plenty left over to head over into excellent. There have been nights when I was not alright, but still fine. The not-fine part wasn't reality. But, that's true of you, too.
Then I thought about those nights feeling not-alright, and I wonder what would have happened if someone had asked me then. It was good they didn't; what fresh hell would they have unleashed on themselves? [shudder]
I drove through Prescott Valley and Prescott today, but didn't stop anywhere. I'll go again, and look really hard so I can draw you word pictures.
I hope you're all alright tonight.