On the 24th of November I receive a request from the North Pole via email.
“Santa’s Workshop awaiting address” “RVSue and Crew”
The email has an attached photo of a gold box! One should never do anything to annoy or offend Santa Claus, so I quickly prepare to send my address by return email. That’s when I notice the email is from someone by the name of Mick.
Hmm… Must be a typo. Old Saint Nick.
While I contemplate this mystery, I receive another email. It says the package is on its way to the Borrego Springs post office! I’m in Slab City at the time.
Oh my! We must go to Borrego Springs! I don’t want to miss a package from Old Saint Mick!
Wednesday, November 28
Our nearest neighbors are at the left and right edges of the photo. (Darn, I thought I straightened this photo!) That thin beige horizontal line is the dry Clark Lake.
I love our location!
Not only is this dispersed camping area east of Borrego Springs, California, bordered by dramatic mountain scenery, the daytime and nighttime temperatures are very comfortable (70s by day, high 40s by night). Best of all is the space!
Some people like to camp with close neighbors.
There’s a sign for the Escapees Boondockers up the road.
If that’s what they like, all the more power to them! As I’ve made clear on this blog, I prefer privacy and quiet days with my crew.
Bridget in the back yard of our desert home
One has to have some type of project or activity every day.
Today I feel the need to replace the old fire ring with a new one. It doesn’t take long.
The first course of rocks
It’s 7:30 a.m. Hmm . . . I have the rest of the day off!
I drink a second cup of coffee, walk the crew, read a book, go online, hug Bridget, keep a watchful eye on Spikey, and basically laze around looking at the changing light on the mountains with a smile on my face.
And then I get an email from the post office!
I didn’t expect it to arrive until tomorrow! So much for strapping down the awning to protect it from the wind. No time for that. I quickly roll up the awning, lock the BLT’s door, lower the solar panel, and the crew and I take off across the desert.
Borrego Springs is an upscale town.
That’s the mall behind those palm trees.
Well, crew, we certainly aren’t in Slab City anymore.
Golf courses, resorts, immaculate 
homes, lots of palm trees . . . We ride around the town circle which has a park in the middle of it.
The post office is easy to find. I’ve never seen such a refined P.O. Brand new building located at the mall, elaborate landscaping, huge parking lot . . .
Spike and Bridget bark like fools as I lock them in the PTV and hurry inside. The postmistress hands me a big box wrapped in gold foil paper. What in the world? I notice from the address label that it’s from Tennessee! Hmm . . . must be Santa’s centrally located warehouse.
Back in the PTV I try to tear it open but it’s sealed so tightly with tape I can’t do it.
Okay. Calm down. We’re in town. Let’s get something done. The package can wait.
The library is nestled between expensive shops in the same mall as the post office. I go in and ask the librarian for a temporary library card for a non-resident.
Now let me point out something here.
Whenever I’ve asked for a non-resident library card in some of the dusty, dinky little towns I’ve had the pleasure to visit, the response is a card in my hand, and maybe some welcoming chitchat delivered with a smile.
In Borrego Springs, I get “There’s a one-time fee of five dollars” with no chitchat, not even a smile.
What? Only the little, low income towns can afford to give out a card and a smile?
I say “No, thank you” and leave.
Oh well. I guess they have to do something to make sure only people who can pay get to touch their books from their library located in the mall. If I weren’t in such a happy mood over the package, I’d be tempted to say, “Never mind. I’ll read free books on my Kindle.”
I stop for gas and a cheerful attendant takes care of the task for me.
A pretty church catches my eye, so I drive over and snap a photo.
This church reminds me of the one at the town square in Ajo, Arizona.
Next I pull into the True Value Hardware Store.
A hummingbird has been visiting our camp. The last visit it seemed to say, “Get with it! Hang up a dang hummingbird feeder! For crying out loud, don’t just sit there with a smile on your face!”
So I go in the store and plunk down ten dollars (!) for an ugly, red plastic apple the size of a cantaloupe. (I liked the one given me at my retirement party, but alas, I broke it a while back.)
On the way back to camp I wonder how I’m going to hang the thing, what with there being no tree anywhere nearby.
We’re almost home!
So what’s in the mystery package?
What did Old Saint Mick put under the palm tree?
I’m not telling until tomorrow. Nope. Sorry.
My lips are sealed. Any blogger worth his air card wouldn’t pass up a cliffhanger like this!
rvsue
rvsue and her canine crew 