And we arrive...

November 6 – 16, 2014

What a glorious venture this year has proved on the road up to this early point. Although we were two months late in starting this year’s journey it all happens for a reason. We are deliriously happy: have arrived for a month stay in a beautiful park in Indio, CA; beautiful weather all the way down our speedway of I-5; great familiar and newfound RV parks from Oregon to California; not much anxiety or fighting without popping Xanax every morning; cats are pretty happy, well behaved, hysterically funny; everything in place and organized in Blue; no breakdowns.

Highlights of our flying RV are a good meal in Weed at a questionable place; overnight at a familiar park in Redding; weird, open field, substandard utilities and expensive county fairgrounds in Roseville, CA – nice peeps though; a hideous navigational blunder on our part – yes, our! – which  took us around and around.  As chance has it though, and our lives are very, very bespoke with good luck, we landed in a park smack dab between train tracks and a loud, busy highway (58 East). We pulled through this walled park though, and felt the gates of heaven open up and a chorus of angels singing a snappy boogie woogie.  All sites are pull-through, cats outside is no problem, clean little pool, sparkling bathrooms, super friendly people. In a phrase: delightful needed, super delightful delivered. 

The folks across the grass from us in their typically permanent RV, surrounded by various foliage in broken buckets and planters, none flowering or showing any fun at all; extra “room” set up to extend the inadequate living space of the RV.  A large, furry man emerges, grunts and waves, as Tony and I sit side by side on our picnic table bench, soaking up the sunny sun sun. Within a few minutes a female in flowing skirt and low-cut top appears, a large, gray wool cape with druid/pagan trim engulfing her ample bod. First thing noticed is her burnished red/gold hair – long and absolutely gorgeous. Second is her skin which is pale and flawless.

She sees Mr. Blackie and Roku and comes over to talk the RV park talk, as we try to feel each other out. Turns out they are “ren fair” (Renaissance Fair) devotees and workers. She is also a nurse. He’s a retired heavy equipment operator turned wooden horse builder. He explained that he has built two giant rocking horses. The tallest one is 8’ tall and 1200 pounds! They’re constructed of laminated plywood, finished and Spar varnished, that they haul to events where people pay to ride them.  WHO KNEW?! Delightful people, quirky, hard working, livng life. A plus on their side is that they have a 20 year old cat who hobbles around with arthritis and tried to rumble a bit with Blackie Boy.

Across the park we walk to a big old converted bus we saw that pulled in behind us. Luckily the gent is outside and we can inquire about this unique “RV.” He is a BC’er from above Lake Osoyoos, 81 years old, an apple farmer.  The bus is a 1973 Motor Coach International, 41’ long, 56,000 lbs. He’s obviously got money, heart attack five years ago, has been doing this RV thang for 29 years with various motor homes – this being his favorite, his wife’s least favorite. It takes a CDL to run it, big ol’ thing. And we walked away with eight of his fresh apples. Score us!!!

Reluctantly we travel south and east to Cherry Valley, a park we’ve stayed in before. Not really excited about it as it was a little run down before and is right on noisy old I 10. But we were pleasantly surprised in that the park is cleaned up and damn nice.  Super people, a little tight between spaces but no big deal, and a million feral and regular cats around – enough so that ours aren’t noted as anything but well-behaved.

We stayed here in particular in order to visit with sister-in-law Rose, who lives nearby in San Jacinto. We had a delightful lunch with her the next day.

Last night we were lucky enough to connect with  two of our very favorite people, C. Blair and Georgia Leckie of Masonic fame. Off we trotted to the favorite El Gallito where I threw all caution to the wind (sorry Dr. Christy) and devoured a big old burrito with sour cream and guac. The thing I loveLOVE about Georgia is that she has this huge, huge heart full of Democratic, Greek Orthodox, love.  This does not mean that she uses only her heart – au contraire my little friends! She is so damn smart.  She tempers her empathy with this incredible intellect that never gives an inch. Fun, fun night ending with this Georgia story:

While they were at their friend’s house preparing for dinner, they were asked if their friend’s brother and wife could join them – sure, no prob. She then explained that her brother had been married four times unsuccessfully and went online to find a new love. He found her, explaining that she had been married three times…..and was also a professional clown. She then divulged that at their wedding the bride had pictures taken of the whole wedding party, with red noses on.  The bride also wore big, floppy clown shoes with her wedding dress.  Apparently the brother, and new bridegroom, made it clear that his new bride needed to “Put Bozo away, enough is enough.” She is suffering withdrawals from not being able to express herself through her alter clown ego.

 A good night’s sleep - rare these days – and waking up in our beautiful park in Indio is delightful.  The red oleander is in full bloom and we have a beautiful, large tree shading us. Everything is bright and sunny: the sky a crisp blue, palm trees bright green and swaying in the breeze, water sprinklers are on, pool gleaming…..and quiet as a tomb. Life is good.

Tomorrow, Monday, brings us to Tony’s initial appointment with his ortho at Eisenhower Medical Center, to see if getting a knee replacement is an option for him. We think it’s a 50/50 chance but we’ll leave it to the doc. After that we’re heading to a local dermatologist who has the light booth we think Tony still needs, to prevent a rash from further development. He is pretty clear – enough so that he can comfortably hit the pool without people pointing and laughing or running in terror. Yay Tony!

Seahawks. ‘Nuff said.

December 3^RD to December 28, 2013

We truly and reluctantly left Nashville.  In particular, I felt the potential for music everywhere, and it felt like ripping out a good time to me.  We had one more family stop in Dunwoody, GA (NE of Atlanta) before we were on our own.

For some reason we left later than usual, heading for Chattanooga Choo Choo, so drove into their torn up highway rush hour traffic mess in the dark, while raining.  Remember, we have no windshield wiper on the driver’s side.  It was awful and something we have avoided for many miles.  We almost always hit a park between 2 and 4 PM so as to avoid the awfulness of traffic and dark.  The highway to the county park was long, winding, darker still, passing through residential neighborhoods.  It’s hard to describe that anxiety, which is why we rarely get caught out.  We did make it, of course, and then I ran the barricade of the armed ranger dude, who was an older gent in a crisp uniform.  Another life story, fumbling with the computer registration, to finish by making me a little doggie out of a short string of white beads, “for the pretty lady.”  Yuck.  When I remembered to tell Tony a few days later, he seemed a little stunned, and thought we should report him.

We arrived at our next COE camp about 30 miles from our son-in-law John’s mother Dee and his niece Shelby.  Those two visit us in Washington every year so we couldn’t be that close to Atlanta and just shoot by without stopping in.  We had a delightful time visiting both at dinner and Dee’s beautiful home.  Dee was and is a true beauty, aging into an over 70 wise and wonderful woman.  She’s a retired registered nurse who unwaveringly took over the raising of her granddaughter Shelby after her son and his wife passed away.

Shelby is…well, awesome!  Beautiful inside and out, a “good girl” as her Uncle John and Aunt Sandi call her.  Smart as a whip, great athlete, worries too much.  Funny, funny, and her stream of consciousness enters every conversation.  We have been honored and delighted to watch her grow and grow, and look forward to more growth!

Back at McKinney COE Tony plotted his drive to nearby Rome, GA, where there just happened to be one of the only windshield wiper motor plants in the country that had our particular motor.  We zipped over there and found a delightful old brick building next to a railroad track.  The interior was a messy bunch of desks, parts, paperwork and blue collar types.  Everything was pretty much covered in a Spring coat of dust with some greasy fingerprints haphazardly scattered among the manuals and on the windows.  An older fellow asked what we needed, which then sent several people running to the back room and to their computers to find our part.  A woman, probably a buyer, found the part and sent it back with an employee to customize it for us.

We, meanwhile, had an interesting conversation with the old dude, who was, of course, the owner – before he sold out to a big company, unnamed.  His dad had started with 100 or so acres as a dairy farmer, and he grew up in the house across the street.  The dairy was now the motor plant.

We toddled into Rome proper, another quaint town, with a little more life than most.  We stopped for lunch at an old-timey place, which was, unfortunately, closing.  She pointed us down the street to the Harvest Moon Café, which, of course, turned out to be amazing local foods.  I had a BLT made with fried green tomatoes, which I asked to be cut papier thin; he replied he wasn’t all that fond of tomatoes either, but to trust him on this, I would love this sandwich.  I did.  I can’t even remember what Tony had my memory is so full of that BLT.  Our server then directed us to the owner’s bakery next door, where I picked up some vibes and a few wonderful pastry type things.

We slowly and with purpose worked our way down the Alabama/Georgia border, riding along the Chattahoochie River.  We stopped at the many COE’s available, and particularly loved R. Shaeffer Heard and Cotton Hill parks.  Cotton Hill is in Ft. Gaines, which was a dirty old place with broken windows and little hope left.  However, as fates have it, we were just in time for the Christmas parade!  Awesome local school bands, cars singing Jesus songs, dancing black young women in skimpy clothes, an announcer who knew everyone.  The guy next to us was a local farmer, twitchy, kind of curious about us.  As it poured rain at the end of the parade – good timing! – we scooted into KC’s Café for some excellent ribs, and great atmosphere.

Arriving in Florida we made for Pat Thomas County Park, unsure of what we were going to find.  I could only find three reviews in my usual place, but the most recent said, “I would go out of my way to stay at this park.”  Turns out this is a dream park where we parked in a pull through 50 feet from the water.  The park is a little peninsula on sweetly quiet Lake Talquin.  The only people we saw were fishers backing their boats into the water or standing on the dock:  there were no other campers until the night before we left.

We drove straight for Tallahassee as we’d never been there.  It is really a beautiful city, downtown anyway.  Had a wonderful conversation about area history with the Visitor’s Info woman.  Ended up not having enough time to visit any of the places she suggested, due to a Costco run and always, always getting up late and fucking around in Blue until 1:00.  No worries.

Although the weather doesn’t hold as well in northern Florida, we were still able to soak some sun up at Pat Thomas and down to Manatee Springs.  Arriving at the latter was such a delight for me I over enthused to the hosts of my love for Manatee.  We got a spot next to our favorite one two years ago, where the deer come through.  There were two women neighbors with three little dogs so I immediately began my low level anxiety concerning Roku and Blackie.  Turns out we sat at their bountiful fire each night, sharing our lives and food.  We will remain in touch with these two.

Ran out of room at Manatee and I hadn’t extended in time so we moved to a local county park called Hart Springs.  Made friends with an ex-Washingtonian a few sites down from us at Manatee who will be joining us here the 3^rd.  I think we’ll still be here!  

We are agonizing over where to spend the majority of our winter.  Tampa south is expensive, at least $50 a night – way too much for a month.  But then again, they have the beaches and warm weather.  If we could be assured that the Panhandle had consistent sun at 70 and above we would explore the hell out of it.  We keep pouring over maps and rediscussing why we’re here (sun and beaches), and how we can achieve our goal (sun and beaches) while not breaking the bank.  We have suffered greatly from shitty wifi so are tempted to just park at a commercial place and enjoy wifi and cable.

Now, the cats: how can we possibly have been blessed with these two handsome black boys?  Every day they impress us with their willingness to go with our flow, never holding a grudge.  They loved Manatee and ran around chasing each other in the sand, watched the armadillo, looked for birds and raccoons.  Then in they would come, vying for the other bucket chair, taking turns batting each other out of it.  Hoping for treats, wanting love and petting.  They are both so cool.

January 11, 2014 – Seahawks Saturday!

We are languishing: there is no other word for it.  After our week stay at the beautiful Manatee Springs SP, we moved to Hart Springs County park, as suggested by our Manatee neighbors.  We are languishing here in site 8.

Our initial guess was a week, maybe two, as usual.  We sent more mail to nearby Trenton, hit up some local yummy restaurants, made good with the park host and manager, found our way through town after town.  The weather has been horrific here in old Florida, ranging from 18 at night to 42 during the day, for a few days.  Mostly gray cloud cover – sound like the northwest?! – thunderstorms, torrential rains, high winds.  Shit.  Don’t like it.  We just had two days in which we threw our chair and lounger into the large spot of sun and louuunnnggged.  I plugged in my earphones , tuned into my OM meditation  section on my iPad and zooonnnnnneedd for about 45 minutes.  While I received massive amounts of sun.  Lovely. 

Tony meanwhile, had long and loud conversations with several Masonic dudes, of which I heard very little.  He was walking up and down, sitting, petting the cats, sunning.  

This park is a quiet little piece of heaven.  We are  one-two-three at the end of the row of our little party of friends.  First is Bob and Joyce from Pennsylvania, probably 70-ish, in their big old RV; then comes Ron and Lena, mostly from Illinois, also from Bellingham (the latter).  We are a little group of hippie/Christian/liberals all mixed up.  But we like to talk about ourselves, each other, the world, politics, and most of all, food. 

Tony the sweetheart, made his fabulous chili one night for a get together of all of us, rounded off with my fabulous cornbread.  Aside from the massive no see um bites I and Lena got, we had such a great time.  Another evening was spent eating pie together.  

We have been honored to be a part of Joyce’s struggle with memory loss.  It’s heartbreaking to hear her talk about the decline of just small parts of her memory, her fears, not having a doctor quite nail it on the head yet so they’re still doing a lot of testing.  We’ve noticed that she tells the same recent stories over and over, whatever that means.  What a lovely person she is, as is her husband Bob.  They met in San Fran 55 years ago while he was in the Navy.  He worked for 35 years climbing telephone poles in the Pennsylvania snow drifts, finally hanging his tool belt up after his heart attack.  He smokes like four Pennsylvania smoke stacks, and has a smile that lights up my heart.  Oh, they love each other!  Bob is traveling this journey with Joyce, right by her beautiful side.

Ron and Lena are anomalies, opposites I think, funny, scared, open hearted.  She’s also battling a physical issue, and I mean battling.  He’s a Vietnam vet who Tony explained to me, was in the worst of the worst over there.  His little presents from soldiering are serious lung problems, PTSD, aches and pains in many, many places.  He did his time.  Ron sucks life up through a straw, chews on it, swallows it and asks for more.  Very outspoken , loud voiced, big heart.  He has an opinion.  About everything.

We like them all so much, thus the extension of our stay here at Hart.  We have never stayed anywhere longer than two weeks, here we’re doing a month.  So comfortable and at peace.  Centered, happy, content, love our lives.

So what do we do here in northern Florida?  Hm.  Went on a long drive through a swamp.  Toured Cedar Key, a lovely island nearby.  We had been there two years ago and rediscovered the beauty of it.  

Watch the cats.  Laugh at the cats.  Cook a lot.  Not use the internet as my Samsung tab has been sent to be “flashed”, i.e., maybe fixed.  iPad mini doesn’t have the capability to be a hotspot.  Jetpack has something seriously wrong with it that Verizon won’t admit to.  

Going to a gyno as my ovaries hurt.  I want her to feel them and tell me there’s nothing growing on them!  Trips to the post office are fun, sometimes friends and family send us cards and gifts!  My most recent was some lovely lavender body wash from friend Claire-Bob, and a funny card about old lady arm flapping from friend Joey.

Sept to Present.........2013

September 28 through October 13, 2013

You’ve probably seen my mini-posts sans pictures on Facebook and are fully aware that we have been broken down in Twin Falls, ID for over a week.  What a shit show it’s been, but we are happy.  A person can adapt to nearly any situation if you have time and money, time being the most important element.  

We had spent two wonderful nights at Miracle Hot Springs near Buhl, ID.  The area is called The Thousand Springs, and indeed it is - they’ve got water shooting out from the sides of canyon cliffs that are just spectacular.  Our springs were a newly remodeled pool, shower and changing area, that was a bane to our souls.  The camping area, though tight, was down a slight hill to a grass and tree filled area right on the river.  Only a few people there so Roku was in heaven.  There are four pools at the spa – and it does cost extra – ranging from lukewarm to really hot.  Divine.  We spent two nights soaking away, the first having met a wonderful young acupuncturist from Colorado on her way to a wedding in Bend.  The second night was a storm of teenagers who did all the teenager splashing, throwing, climbing, etc.  Me and the Oregon Trail Ruts

Miracle Hot Springs camp spot

Kitty Boy 'laxin at Miracle Hot Springs

Ton-Ton at the Perrine Bridge, Snake River, Twin Falls, ID

JB looking hot, I think, with the Snake River as back-drop, Twin Falls, ID

Perrine Bridge, Twin Falls, ID, see the base jumpers?

Perrine Bridge/Snake River, base jumper landing...crazy fuckers

In heading for our next stop, which we had planned on being the City of Rocks area of Idaho, Tony hit the diesel pedal to get an impatient truck off his ass, when the throttle stuck.  We pulled over in Buhl, where he unstuck it.  And then…..no power, no acceleration.  We putted along at 50 mph on the flat, trying to find a truck repair place.  Finally pulled into Bish RV, where a very helpful Shane called all around trying to find us a place to get repaired – however, all were full.  I kept googling and we landed at Lithia Chrysler Dodge in Twin Falls, ID.  After explaining our predicament, we all decided that it was the same fouled fuel we had in Arizona a year ago and they changed two fuel filters for us.

We then roared away, then limped along the next several miles to an interesting sounding county park called Rock Creek.  Nope, not fixed by filters.  Crap.

We settled into this beautiful park on the river for the next three nights – Fri, Sat and Sun – waiting for Freightliner to open on Monday and take a look at poor Blue.  This park rocked it as far as unique and a gem; it sits way down in a valley that is a reclaimed garbage dump.  It’s very well used by the locals for biking, skating, walking, running and picnics.  We had one of the pull thrus, which is so smart of them to do for the RV crowd, at $15 a night!  Although we had electricity, there are no showers, which poses a problem for us as our shower is taken up by the cat box.

One little, teeny glitch in the beauty of this area is the flies.  They are everywhere, all over the place, covering everything.  Disgusting.  We did a quick search for our fly swatter, couldn’t find it, so went to store after store trying to find a swatter and a fly chemical thingy.  Non existent in this town.  Throughout our conversations with locals we constantly asked “What’s with the flies?”  The answer is that these flies are different from regular house flies, they live in the sweet corn, which has now been ground to mulch.  The flies, however, LOVELOVE anything sweet corn so are hanging around looking for more sweet corn!  If you’re stupid enough to leave the RV door open, there are literally hundreds of flies that invade your space. 

I then start my routine of eradication , beginning with the bedroom ceiling, where they HANG!  I swack my way through Blue leaving little black bodies on the floor.  When I’m down to about ten, I take a break.  Then comes the sweeping of the floors, getting rid of all the little bodies I had just annihilated.  It just goes on and on.  The minute you shut your car door, it’s covered with flies.  They’re in your hair, the counter, the fridge.  And the people here hate it too.

I started looking around for public showers, or state parks, something, and found the YMCA run community pool is available.  They let us shower for free – sounds great right?!  And it was, except that it’s a typical pool group shower, which is a little weird.  No one was ever there when we were so it was all good.  Free is great!  So we survived just fine in our little paradise at Rock Creek.

We arrived for our scheduled appt at Freighliner at 9:00 AM, looked around the place…..then waited, and waited, and waited for word from them as to what was wrong.  It was quite late in the afternoon when we asked them what was going on.  And that about sets up our next week.  This is a huge building sitting on a couple of acres, trucks coming in and out at all hours of the day and night.  There are containers parked in a row, and trucks backing into pick them up.  There is a great day room for the truckers, with two showers and bathrooms, a tv room with several tables, a “quiet room”, and a great Keurig with various coffees and hot chocolate.  The tv seating is overstuffed leather theater chairs.  It’s a great place.  We’re tucked into a corner of the parking lot near the grassland, plugged in and camping in style – for free.

Very nice people in Chris our Cummins mechanic, Vince the dispatcher and Matt the Service Manager, but we have pretty much pulled teeth to get any information out of them.  The first solid word we had was Vince showing up with a bill for $7000.00 to replace the fuel injector pump. 

I’ve known Tony a long time, been partnered with him for 18 years, and have not seen him speechless until he saw that bill.  His mind was clicking away, I could see his mechanic-mind settle in looking for a more reasonable answer. 

After many phone calls to Cummins and other repair shops, and texting both my brothers, the next morning we gave the OK to pull the lift pump, order a new one (a mere $55) and replace it.  Two more days of sightseeing Twin Falls – which we have thoroughly enjoyed! – and the lift pump is not the answer.  After many more phones calls inquiring about fuel injector pumps, and many visits to local auto parts stores and our old friends at Lithia Chrysler, Roger found an injector repair shop in Salt Lake City (SLC), UT. 

TC inside Freightliner filling the water tank, Twin Falls, ID

Inside the Freightliner shop, Twin Falls, ID

Inside Freightliner. Love the blue tape on the floor for returning items. Twin Falls, ID

Tony returned to Blue with the news that Freightliner would pull the pump and we would take it to SLC for repair.  Another day while Chris pulled the pump, popped it into the trunk.  I slept like a baby, Tony hardly at all, but we drug ass out of bed at 3:00 AM and hit the dark and cold Highway 84 to SLC.  It was a nerve wracking drive as we didn’t know the terrain at all, what we were driving into.  The speed limit in Utah is 75 to 85 and we cruised at 80 most of the way.  We could only make out dark shapes – mountains? – and frost covered bushes at the roadside.  Fog crept in and out, making the road impossible to see, as we slowed to 40.  The only vehicles on the road were truckers, and very few of them driving; most were sleeping in rest areas or even piled up at off ramps. 

We did make it to the shop by 6:50 AM, walked in the back door as instructed, straight into a cranky mechanic who reminded us greatly of Bob Wenzlaff, for those who are acquainted with him. We explained ourselves and showed him the injector.  He warmed up a bit and we filled out the paperwork.

Next up was, “What do we do with ourselves all day in SLC?”  It was a beautiful day, crisp and clear and blue skies.  Mountains hem in the Salt Lake Valley, powdered sugar snow on their ridges.  We googled breakfast places and ended up downtown at a good place.  As we ate and asked Trip Advisor what we should see while we’re here.  The answer was  BOOK SALE AT THE PUBLIC LIBRARY – yay Jackie!  Oh, and the Natural History Museum.  Cool.

We walked around a bit looking for the Visitor Info center, which led us through the city’s gorgeous Convention Center.  Tony was in awe at the architecture of this building.  Armed with a city map and brochures we headed to the library for my fun, while TC caught up on sleep in the car.  I walked away with a bunch of dvd’s and a few books.  Beautiful library too.

The museum was filled with dinosaurs found in Utah, and they were put together at their full heighth, breadth and width.  We walked those ramped five floors in awe of the visual stories being told.  We were spent by the fifth floor, but one more beckoned – the Sky Deck.  Spectacular view of SL, sat in some wooden deck chairs and rested our aching feet.  The sun was marvelous, the wind slight.

Tony's family tree, Salt Lake City, UT museum

Walking on dino, Salt Lake city, UT museum

Mammoth dino, Salt Lake City, UT museum

On our way to lunch we received the call from Adam the injector guy, who told us the story of our pump: looks like new, nothing wrong with it.  He had cleaned up and made new the pump, just the test bench awaited.  We gave him a few more hours to finish, had a delightful lunch at Olive Garden with an equally delightful waitress.

Tony then spent the next several hours with Adam – they’re new bff’s – talking about injectors, diesel tank shock treatments.  Adam called Freightliner and broke the news of the impeccable pump to them, which sent them off to recheck the turbo.  We hit the road at 5:00 PM, and hit rush hour as well.  It was a long drive home, three solid hours, but mostly stunning vistas, pioneer cabins and a peek at the Great Salt Lake.  Home at 8:00 PM, with two black cats glad to see us and snuggle.

Getting home at 8 on a Friday means no work until Monday so we planned more schlepping around Twin (as the locals call it).  One of the biggest attractions here is the 500’ tall Perrine (Per’ in) bridge.  It’s claim to fame is that it’s a “must do” for base jumpers, those reckless souls who jump off high places illegally, their little parachute in their little hand.  Mother help us all.  We watched as they jumped off, one after the other, from the bridge middle, ‘chute out pretty immediately, floating over the beautiful Snake River, almost to the fall tree tops, then close, closer to the bullseye painted on the ground.  Terrifying to watch.

We also hung around the old downtown which is stuck in time, around  1950.  Lots of empty store fronts  and thrift shops, yet a lovely Main Street lined with trees turning orange and red.  We had picked up pamphlets from the Visitors Center that identified the buildings downtown and in the warehouse district.

I’m now going to recount the gorging food fest we’ve had while in Twin.  This deserves its own story.

Idaho is the land of potatoes, as most of you know.  Every restaurant uses fresh Idaho spuds for their French fries and it is truly a thing of delight.  We can’t get enough of these crispy beauts.  They also make their own potato chips which we haven’t tried yet, but I can guarantee I’ll report on them later. When we eat out we try and stick to the local places, so places like “Norm’s Café”, “Idaho Joe’s”, “The Sandwich Shop” and “Wok N Grill” have been our food haunts.  They serve nacho fries here, and baskets of seasoned potato chips.  Everything is homemade and delicious and we have enjoyed an extraordinary love affair with said spuds.

As well as the servers we’ve encountered.  All outstanding, fair, honest, kind, welcoming.  We like it here!

Tomorrow brings us a conference with Chris, Vince and Matt.  Without a Powerpoint presentation, Tony plans on outlining what our expectations are: get us on the road!

October 16 -  29, 2013

And it all worked out.  New lift pump and retooled injector pump did the job.  Back to the county park for one night, which turned into two due to Blackie not being able to run across the grass back to Blue in the daylight!  Grabbed the silver lining and spent the night watching the Seahawks kick ass amid many other Hawks fans in Twin.  Cool dat!

Finally on the road for a short trip landing in Ogden, within view of the stupendous Wasatch Mountains.  The RV park is a mobile park that allows a few RV’s in to make some side cash, similar to many we’ve encountered.  Nice kid running it for the sick owner.  Hit the road again the next day, striving for Wyoming. 

And did we get it!  We followed a beautiful scenic route of folded rock cliffs with trails up every ravine.  Stopped at a rest area following another WA plate in, talked with two folks from nearby Port Angeles.  They’re off to Nashville via the Corps of Engineer (COE) parks – which reminded me I haven’t been looking for them with the new COE book I bought for this year!  Off they flew in their 5^th wheel while we hiked up a hill to overlook the beauty of this valley.

A night spent at a hastily joined KOA in the mining town of Rock Springs, WY – bare, rocky, but a lot of work.  The park had a long term area filled to the brim with families of miners, their kids and dogs.  We got a gravel space and a mighty wind blowing.

Night sunset at KOA. Limon, WY

The next morning we fled for Cheyenne, WY, a vague memory of mine at 18.  Their claim to fame is, fortunately, the Cheyenne Round-Up in the summer; unfortunately, Matthew Shepard’s death in nearby Laramie.  We chose another KOA, totally unlike us, as convenient for this area.  Spent the next day in old downtown in their lovingly curated Museum and at their gorgeous and haunted train depot.  Best display of artifacts I’ve seen in any museum: they would use a series of comparatives, such as a Native American “spoon” carved from wood, with a current spoon.  It lit up lights in my head throughout the tour.

About a mile down the road from the KOA I entered one of my Nirvana-states by shopping at my beloved Sierra Trading Post.  Have done so for years online – great deals! – but in person was wonderful.  Tony stayed with Blue and our new neighbor, loaning him tools and advice on a truck bed project.

Still striving for Colorado, even though we had, to our sorrow, missed my niece Mara, nephew Phillip and wife Sharolta, we kept hammering away until reaching Longmont, CO.  I was crazy to spend time with the head of my siblings, sister Maureen…..he of the newly sized stomach, water aerobics Queen, grandmother twice over and beautiful blue eyes.  We settled in at the Boulder County Fairgrounds and set right to seeing niece Kendra, husband Aaron, and their daughter Cierra and brand new son Edin. 

And I mean brand new!  He was born about a week before we got there in their very home!  Kendra is the queen of water birth!  I already know and love Cierra, adding a baby brother to their family is just beautiful.  We exchanged a lot of love between us all, with Aaron the phone expert, Kendra the kid expert (she’s an incredibly valued nanny for two boys), and Maureen surprising me by driving out two days in a row!  TC made up his most excellent chili and we served them in our little Blue.  I love showing our home off to people who have only read about her!

Cierra learning how to play solitaire with great uncle Tony!  She is so smart!

Wonderful Niece Kendra, her beautiful daughter Cierra, Jackie, my sister Maureen in Longmont, CO

Baby Edin Lembcke with the t shirt I bought him, sleeping in "my" spot in Blue

In Longmont the next day we did a walkabout, landing in a wonderful old brick building that houses a coffee house.  We ended up with the owner sitting at our table, Tony talking with him, me with a musician friend of his, then to a facially pierced and tattooed guy.  Fabulous conversations with all – THAT’S what we live for when traveling, that human conversation.

Our next stop of interest was a pick of Tony’s, Dodge City, KS.  Of the two RV parks in the area – no state or county parks, no fairground parks – one was locked tight for the season, the next had terrible reviews.  We stayed at the latter which is called Watersports RV Park, but there is no water.  In our conversations around “Dodge”, we heard several stories about their current drought: it had been in drought “all my life”, and for “the last four years.” 

This is the first we have seen of the Arkansas River, but there IS no river….it’s dried up and has been for a long time.  Their aquifer is almost dry.  They are royally pissed at CO for damming the river, but not returning any of the water to them.

Dodge City, as you’ve heard and come to expect, was a wild old west town that is famous, mostly, for Boot Hill.  The town has captured BH, adding reproduction storefronts, all of which you pay a pretty penny to tour.  We were bummed at the touristy-ness of it all, however, it was a wonderful venue to really bring to life how the town was founded and tamed.  One gentleman in particular who was running the bar, convinced us to buy “the best sarsaparilla in the world”, then told us many tales of old Dodge, and current Dodge. 

Getting back to the park we saw another trailer come in and park near us, then proceed to stare at us.  I was annoyed as most folks know not to stare at your rig, especially when you’re in it.  As I kept glancing at the chick, I realized it was our new Port Angeles friends!  We yakked it up and talked of funny coincidences, and saw them off the next morning with an exchange of emails.  Cool.

We ended up staying an extra night in Dodge as we hadn’t received our mail package from daughter and son-in-law yet, and were also expecting my hormone meds from the compounding pharmacy in Poulsbo.  They never did come so we reluctantly entrusted those packages to our three new friends in the Dodge City PO to forward them to Branson, MO.  Yikes.

Made many tours of the town proper, up and down residential, business, shady side of town, industrial, back to residential.  One building struck us as very cool so we wandered inside the old brick and stone High School to see what was there.  Discovered two wonderfully talkative and knowledgable Kansan women who work in the Cultural Center.  While we weren’t there to use their prodigious library of Kansas archives, we did talk a long time about various things Kansas: the dust bowl era, droughts, Dodge City facts, Abilene and where to look for cool houses, the Eisenhower Museum, etc.  They were quite curious about our trip with two cats, and we expounded on our travels to their delight.

October 30 – November 2, 2013

After a few verbal battles, hard feelings and name-calling, we finally, sort of, agreed to go to Hutchinson, KS next.  Thought is that the much-sought-after Dwight D. Eisenhower Museum and Library in Abilene, KS, would be an hour or so away to the north, but still leave us “living” in the south for our eventual arrival on the beaches of Florida.  Glad we got over ourselves and fully immersed in Hutchinson – great choice Tony!!!

So far, two of my favorite things are in Hutchinson, KS: Hog Wild BBQ’s ribs, and the Kansas Underground Salt Museum.  The Kansas State Fairgrounds are a one of a kind RV park, really state of the art and smartly revenue producing.  Two hundred sites, I think, with a newish bathroom and showers.  Unfortunately the showers weren’t cleaned once during our stay, and the water takes TEN MINUTES to heat up.  We complained, gently, to no avail; took it out on them by not paying for our last night there.  Whoopdee doo.

Other than that it is centrally located near stores, restaurants and pretty little residential neighborhoods.  Chamber of Commerce recommended the above to favorites, along with the Eisenhower Museum (Okay!  We’ll GO!) and the Cosmosphere, which houses more NASA stuff than Cape Canaveral. 

The Cosmosphere was nearby and we reluctantly spent the next several hours inside on a gloriously sunny day.  Saw the Imax-y film Jerusalem, which was just OK.  Pretty scenery, interesting look at three religions housed there: Christian, Jewish and Muslim.  Camera movement made we want to puke, but oh well.  Experienced the planetarium which was a wonderful lesson on the stars, and funny/dorky too.  Hit the actual cosmosphere of cosmo stuff which was all about the race to the starts…..US, Russia, mostly.  Lots of WWII pictures of Hitler (the little shit), Russian soldiers, US soldiers and the inventors of all the rocket type thingies that go to the Moon. 

We like it, but it was waaaayyyyy too long.  Finally found ourselves roaming backwards to get out.  Enjoyed the rest of the sunny day at Hog Wild.  Thank you baby Jesus for inventing the best ribs I’ve ever had.  I could taste the perfect smoke hours after sucking them down.  Went back for more the next day.

We headed up north to Abilene the next day to pay homage to Ike.  Tony had been waiting for this for a week, excited about learning more about Ike and his vast influence on our highway system.  Alas, not one word on the highways, but way too much on war, guns, killing, peace talks, and Russians.  My favorite part was a whole sparkly section on Mamie and her clothes, in living color.  He, Mamie and their infant son are also buried there in a big old church-like structure.  Creepy mausoleum to me. We were pooped and had enough of Ike by the time we skedaddled back to the cats in Hutchinson.

And now the real McCoy, the site I had been waiting for with all my heart  -  but didn’t even know it!  The Salt Museum!  I had actually been experiencing a bit of anxiety over this, as the tour takes place underground.  Way underground, where the salt is mined.  I’m OK with heights, mountain trails, closed spaces, but this was a new one for me, to be so far underground.  At the last minute I decided to push all thoughts of HOW far underground I was each time it came to me, or I would make myself sick.  As we clambered on the only ingress into the salt mine, the double deck elevator that holds about twelve people crammed in together. We had all been issued hard hats and emergency breathing devices which we strung around our necks. 

The old lady running the elevator asked if any of us would like her to turn her head lamp on, as it would be pitch black going down.  Nope, so on we went in the pitch black.  You know that saying, “Darker than a coal miner’s ass?”  It was.  I haven’t SEEN a coal miner’s ass but I bet it is as black as plunging 65 stories into any old kisalt mine.  When the machinery ground to a halt and the door opened onto the beautiful striations of salt and earth before us…..Tony and I were just stunned.  I forgot all my trepidation and spent the next three hours LOVING this place!

After a brief overview by the guide we stayed and talked with Connie at length about the mine, her life, the miners, the salt.  As we talked she pointed out the room stats, 50’ wide and 300’ long, with  8-9’ ceilings.  Between these “rooms” are pedestals of salt that they’ve mined around, but kept, for stability. 

Walking through the rooms they have short films, old vehicles, mining equipment…..and garbage from the initial shaft going in.  That’s right…nothing comes out that goes in!  Pictured is a garbage pile from the 1950’s. 

The double decker elevator we initially took down is the only way for material to get in and out.  All of the vehicles they brought down had to be cut up to fit in the elevator, then reassemble.  When it quits, it’s then left below, and believe me, there’s plenty of room.  

There are 100 entire rooms housing archival material from Hollywood – film, costumes -, to medical records.  It is the perfect storage space as it is a constant 68 degrees, with no humidity.  See picture for artifacts on display.

It is quiet, except for the other tourists ambling through the rooms.  The walls, ceilings and floors are layer upon layer of salt and dirt: white, browns, reds.  They have even fashioned their bathrooms around the mining, see picture.

We signed up for not only our self-guided tour of the mine, but for the little train ride and the “dark ride.”  I loved the funny little train hauling us through darkened rooms, spotlights on  stuff to see – like garbage piles and abandoned equipment – a canned recording filling us in on all the details of mining life.  We bumped happily along, Tony and I thoroughly comfortable in this underground sanctuary.

Our “dark ride” chauffeur was a woman by the name of Patti, who is really a pip: energetic, alive, sparkling, knowledgable.  Luckily for us she’s a mediator too!  We went into the dark of the tunnels on our little train of golf carts, in and out between the columns.  Then ….. it was dark.  We sat there quietly, enjoying the moment.  She then turned on her light and motored over to a large pile o’ salt, let us out, and we were able to take out pick.  What a blast!  We each filled a little bag with our salt loot (for Holli) and tootled on back to end the tour.  

Back to the elevator and the dark ride back up the 65 stories, neither of us wanting to leave…ever!  

November 6^th and beyond…..

Time to move on from our beloved BBQ palace, across the high prairie of Kansas.  This is a state of rolling, high grassy hills, with streams and sod making up the geography.  It’s not endless vistas of prairie, but a rolling landscape that frankly, you don’t want to see the last of.  Who knew we would love this state?  Not us, that’s for sure.  I had “assumed” it was all corn and just a quick and fast drive through.  We have loved the wide open skies and rolling plains.  Even stopped in to see a very real, although facsimile of, Laura Ingram Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie.  Unfortunately it was off season so not open, but I still liked looking inside the 8’ x 8’ log cabin – housed two adults and three kids for a year!  Crap.  How?

 

Little House on the Prairie

Little Schoolhouse

Add caption

Next major stop, and where we will pick up mail, is Branson, Missouri.  Including the mail we were supposed to receive, but didn’t, in Dodge City, KS.  Will it be there or won’t it?  Never can tell.  It was a gorgeous and hilly drive through the Ozarks to The Music Capital of Old, Unknown and Fake Singers (I mean, Boxcar Willie headlined there for years, OK?!).  We probably spent two hours going up and down steep and gradual hills, and many, many sharp curves.  Did that daunt Tony’s need for speed?  Nay, I say, he barralled up, barralled down – like a cowgirl racing barrels on a quarter horse.  I, as usual, bitched the whole time – every minute of those two hours.  I also have, as part of my Act of Fear, a smooth move whereas if I feel we’re going to go off the edge, or ram into the car ahead of us, I dramatically grasp the edge of my door, while yelping, “Oh!!!”  After three years Tony hates the former and is always alarmed by the latter, as HE MAY BE SUFFERING FROM INATTENTION AND IS GOING TO RUN OVER THE EDGE OF….A CLIFF, ROAD, DITCH, so he’d BETTER PAY ATTENTION.  

Branson Ozark Curves.....

I need Xanax.

Arriving at the highly sloped RV park is, as usual, a dream come true for me, anyway.  We made it through another obstacle field ALIVE!  Thank Jesus.  The managers of the place are from Blaine, WA – rather weird folks with never ending stories that he tells, while she jumps in every third sentence deriding him for getting the exact sequence right.  I left with their email and blog info, which I will never use.  Did not give them our blog address so no worries that they'll see this!  The interaction kind of all feeds into…..Branson.

Neither of us ever had a desire to go to Branson, although we’ve talked with many, many RV’ers who adore it’s action.  Since we could go through it we thought, “Well, what the hell, we’ll be there, let’s see what’s happening.”  Driving through the main drag of neon signs, huge casino-type buildings, restaurants galore, pawn shops, t shirt shops, ticket sellers…..just like Pigeon Forge of Dollywood fame…..and disgusting to us.  We don’t want to see Tony Orlando and his last Branson Christmas show; nor the talented folks who do impersonations of all things Cher and Michael; nor eat shit buffets with a busload of old, old folks.  Just not us.  We did, however, go to “downtown” Branson which does have cool old brick buildings, great antique stores and the best bead store I’ve ever been in.  That took a few hours and we were pretty much done with Branson.  

When we talked with people who love Branson’s entertainment, we’re careful not to bash it; but even when we say, as kindly as possible, “Well, the shows just aren’t our thing…..”, they always exclaim that they “can’t believe we wouldn’t want to see the shows!”  Well, believe it Betty and Chuck, they shows suck to us!

The mail was waiting as promised by our Dodge City post office employees so our time there was done.  

November 9^th – 14^th: Russelville and  Hot Springs, AR 

Our next stop is a much-anticipated COE park that is just as beautiful and quiet as we had hoped.  Just a note: almost every single park we stay in, whether it’s a state, COE, county, city, and some private ones – are all tucked far back in the country.  Picture being 34’ long plus towing a car, turning down smaller and smaller country roads, desperately peering ahead (hopefully not into darkness) for “the brown sign” that signals a government park.  You are terrified the map or GPS sent you the super wrong way, the way that has roads like spaghetti noodles and 10” overpasses.  You sweat stinky flop sweat, you start snapping at one another, trying to put just enough blame on “he who didn’t navigate” to ameliorate your own backward directional thinking.  Second, third, fourth-guessing your plan is so common as to ratchet your fear lever up not gradually, but IMMEDIATELY.  

And then the sky opens up with a song from heavenly angels and beams its unearthly golden glow on the 1” x 1” sign that says, “xxxxx COE Park ===è”.  Then begins the “Which spot do you want?”, “I don’t care, just park!  No, not that one!  Number 34, the one we just passed.  Go AROUND again!”  It’s only when I jump out with Blue’s spare keys and plug in to the power does common sense usually come back; I take a quick look around our site, the next few sites, look to see what kind of trees, water, birds, undergrowth surrounds Blue; Kitty Boy comes out and sniffs around, maybe jumps on the picnic table for some love, or rolls around on the road playing  “floppy cat.”

As Tony off-loads the car, hooks up the water, gives Roku a pet and scratch, I go back inside to replace all that has become disarrayed, fallen, leaked.  The bed is made  - always, everyday first thing – and is the anchor to my day.  I so love a made bed, especially one with our sturdy white bedspread, and fluffy double sleeping bags underneath.   I get the Sodastream off the bed and put it in place on the kitchen table, along with the butter dish, salt and pepper.  Next, the tops come off the two sinks and stored against the kitchen wall by the window.  The soap, cleaning liquid sprayer, sponge, cat spoon and cat food lid are all put into place on the counter.  

At my place on the couch I put my book (Tina Fey’s Bossypants) on my side table, top it with my leather bag full of my myriad of collected rocks, WSF tattoos, post cards ready to send, ten different colored pens, etc.  I gather my iPad mini, Samsung tablet, phone and Tupperware sippy cup from the front dashboard and move the lot back to my side table too. 

I check for park wifi – if there is none I turn on the tab, if there is – I rejoice and see how good it is.  Our wifi problems have been many, hence, curtailing loading pictures into an uploaded blog.  

But I digress.  We spend two full days at Old Post Road COE, blissfully quiet, happily soaking up the sun, watching the river run barges by and taking walks with the cats.  I also met the camp host, and, as usual, got his life story, which was awesome.  A tidbit of it: his first wife died of cancer; his second wife – who came from California – he was married to for 12 years, when she decided she wanted to live in Cali again – no way the Arkansas boy was going!; old Bill got hisself a girlfriend who can’t marry him due to money issues, and, being a religious man, they “studied the bible thoroughly” and found – miracle of miracles! – that the holy book condones them not getting married!  Wow, who knew?!  He said that they performed their own blessing of marriage and all is well with god.  Man I love the people we meet, always an interesting story.

Our, well, MY, next stop is Hot Springs, AR, and it was well worth the time traveling through there.  We decided on three nights, and stayed at a tidy KOA near to town.  The whole draw to this place is, of course, the hot springs.  Aside from the formal bathhouses, there are probably five public taps where you can fill your own containers with the spring water.  The vendors, of course, sell half gallon jugs for tourists to partake; and we also saw many locals filling up a pick-up truck load of containers for home.

Open springs, Hot Springs, AR

Downtown is called “bathhouse row” and is the most beautiful row of spa after spa for several city blocks.  These were all built from the late 1800’s through the 1930’s out of stone – gorgeous. All of this is run by the National Parks Dept, whose headquarters is in…yes, an old bathhouse.  They’ve renovated a lot of it and the self-guided tour of this place is lovely.  Pictures speak louder than words:

Fordyce Bathouse Lounge

Fordyce Bathouse Lobby, HS, AR

Fordyce Bathouse Front, HS, AR

Fordyce Bathouse Gym

Fordyce Bathouse Gym

Fordyce Bathouse Parlor

Fordyce Bathouse Stairs and TC

Fordyce Bathouse Tub

Superior Bathouse Front

Superior Bathhouse Root Beer

Superior Bathouse Vittles: Local Cheese, Fried Bologna, Blue Cheese Stuffed Green Olives!

Two of these gems are still operating - one as a modern spa, one as it was run from 1912.  After chatting up the locals a bit, I chose the latter, the Buckstaff.  Upon entering you can see that it needs an infusion of money to polish it up a bit.  The staff looks tired too, same old same old every day I suppose, and here comes the middle aged fat chick from Poulsbo, oh whoopie!  I was intriqued with their services, never having encountered a $64.00 package that includes a soak in a huge old tub; a lie-down with hot mineral water packs on various parts of your body;  a “head in” steam box; a sitz bath; a mineral needle shower; a massage.  All of the equipment looks barbaric, particularly the steam box and needle shower – but it all felt great. 

 

Buckstaff Changing Room where you get your toga!

Buckstaff Lobby

Buckstaff Front

 

Another odd thing, you have your own personal spa assistant, who leads you around to all these different treatments, gently wrapping your sheet toga around you after each task is completed.  These aren’t gorgeous spa women, these are locals who seem to enjoy their little foray into facilitating your mineral water rejuvenation.  It felt weird to me but not in an awful, I-don’t-ever-want-to-do-this-again way.   The massage therapist was a little rough and very religious.  She wore neoprene gloves while massaging, which felt awful and struck me as strange.  She had just woken from a little nap and yawned loudly throughout the massage.

I did have a terrible experience when I was first introduced to Tomeesha (named changed to protect my butthole) and she asked if I needed to use the restroom before I got in the big old tub.  Well, I did, and something fierce.  Sometimes my bowels just fucking burst with anticipation after I eat – hardly able to contain their bad self from working on the new food, while pushing the old out.  This was, unfortunately one of those times.  I had to poop like a race horse.  I ran to the head, which doesn’t have a main door on it, it’s kind of open to the rest of the ladies soaking, tore off my toga and barely made it to the seat before all was pushed through my stinky wrinkle.  While it was a relief, having known my bowels and anus for 56 years, I could tell this was one of those times that my sphincter, which is rapidly wearing out, was not up to the job of a clean closure.

No, this was poop that was sticky and clingy, and add to that mess that the toilets were old fashioned and not shaped for the benefit of my wiping needs, I could hardly reach back there to give it a clean sweep before I entered the tub.  I kept at it – while Tomeesha was asking if I was alright, because now I had been gone awhile – until I felt that most of the poop was gone.  What could I do?!  I’m pretty sure I was thorough, but  I kept having this withering thought that I wasn’t, and would there be poop pieces floating in the tub for Tomeesha to see?  I was a wreck while I sat in the tub, the water bubbling like it was lit up from a 70 horse Merc outboard.  I finally gave up, spread ‘em wide, and let the waters heal my nether parts.  Upon exiting the tub I did take a quick peek to see if there was any anal detritus and was relieved to see nothing.  Maybe it sunk, I just don’t know.  

November 15^th – 20^th: Crystal Springs and Little Rock, AR

We get sporadic TV coverage as well as wifi, so when we get a chance to watch the news we jump on it.  What we discovered is that tornados were moving into the Little Rock area and east – up old tornado alley – which is just where we had been heading.  We decided to play it safe and head west, which took us to Maumelle COE park in Crystal Springs.  It was about  thirty minutes from Hot Springs and a lovely place.  Not many in the park again, on a lake, which Roku thoroughly enjoyed.  

We noticed when we were outside that we were blessed to have a bevy of ladybugs  landing on us.  We were so charmed!  Tony said, “Ladybugs are so romantic.  I wonder what it would be like if there were too many?  Would you then hate them?”  Prophetic words, my friend.  The next two days it was as if a plague of ladybugs had surrounded us.  They lined the windows, they got in Blue, they landed all over us.  We didn’t get it!  It got so bad/gross that we must have had 30 – 50 of the red and black pests in Blue – all hanging from the carpeted ceiling!  Blech!  In our bedroom at night they formed a weird little ball in the corners of the ceiling and cabinets, while some just hung over my face.  I was drinking coffee one morning kind of smoothing my hair and found a dead one in it!  The bathrooms, which were not being cleaned anyway, had groups of 50 in the corners too.  So, so creepy.  Here’s a picture of a smaller  “bathroom ball.”

In heading further west to sniff out the other small towns in the area, we came immediately on Burl’s BBQ – restaurant, deli, antique store.  In we go, wandered through the antiques then back to the deli case.  Got the ladies behind the counter laughing and advising us what to get, so we settled on a smoked turkey sammich for me, a brisket for TC.  Need I say it was just one in a long slice of southern heaven for us.  We yakked with the ladies some more, me asking where to go to look for crystals – hence, Crystal Springs .  One of the women said, “Oh wait, we’ll just bring out the ones we’ve found lying around,” and out came a half dozen lovely crystals that they urged me to pick from.  So I felt around the pile, trying to attune myself to their energies, feeling drawn to one beautiful perfectly smooth one and picked that.  She then urged me to pick another, so I got an equally beautiful jaggedy one.  I was so grateful for their generosity, humor and graciousness.  THAT’s why we travel, this connection with people.

We continued on down the road poking around old towns, until I found a beloved thrift store in a cute old house.  The women that owned and ran that place were awesome too and had incredibly good deals, for the most part.  I walked away with some more trinkets – a book, a huge bag o’ buttons, a vintage apron.  Then back to our park to let the little black devils out to roam.  Tornado scare over we happily moved to Maumelle  COE outside Little Rock.  (Pics for all the rest of my verbiage later.....)

Maumelle is another incredibly beautiful river front campground where barges would slowly pass in the night.  The moon our first night was of the huge, waxing, golden variety – magnificent across the water.  When faced with a view like we had here, we just pull Blue straight in so that we can see the beauty, not the other RV’ers driving by.  Another super cool practice they have here is that they have space for ten cancer patients who can stay for about $10.00 a day.  How cool is that?!  They stay there while getting their treatments, sometimes they live, sometimes they pass there.  How beautifully humane.

Ball of ladybugs in in this bathroom too.  Yech.

November 21^st – 24^th: Memphis, TN to Alabama  

We excitedly moved onto T.O. Fuller State Park just south of Memphis.  Driving in we noticed these outskirts looked a little worn, but the park itself is lovely.  At the Ranger’s station there is a big cage in the corner, with a little tiny screech owl in it!  The Ranger explained that these owls like to feed on the frogs that cross the roads, and are occasionally hit by a car, as was “Gizmo.”  He looked at us with one eye open, then the other.  Dang he was cute!

We discovered that T.O. Fuller was a Memphis attorney, black, who sued the government in order to have black Americans allowed to camp in the state parks – which until then had not allowed blacks.  He won.  And got a park named after him.  Seems ridiculous now but thank god for the Fullers of the world, huh?

We had asked the Ranger if there was wifi in the park, “No.”  He told us the nearest wifi was out of the park, up Third at the McDonalds.  We usually look for a coffee shop to hang in for big wifi time, so decided we’d head to Memphis to hang.  Lucky for us we used our heads.  As it turns out, every person we spoke to told us to NEVER go to that McDonalds, to NEVER be on Third after dark, in fact don’t even drive on Third.  If you are there after dark NEVER stop for a red light.  What the…..?!  As we traveled up and down Third to the city, it was clear that the area is blighted: ramshackle houses, empty malls, industries closed.  It made us sad, started a lot of conversation about how to “fix” poverty stricken areas.  If you could just paint some of the houses, would that help people “feel” better?  Where are the jobs in the area?  What are you teaching kids when you live in a rat trap, have no work, no pride in your surroundings?  How do you instill pride in people again?

We quickly found a Starbucks near a large arena and set up shop.  We were there probably an hour, trying to cram in our wifi time to take care of business.  In talking with the baristas we found that we were right on the edge of Beale Street, which is apparently the Bourbon Street of Memphis.  They urged us not to go there after dark, and certainly not in the summer!  We did the former, wandering this totally neon city canyon up and down, settling in at BB King’s Blues Club.  For a $3.00 cover each, a front row seat at a bar watching the singer and band, a basket of fried pickles and hushpuppies – it was OK.  TC wasn’t impressed, but I like the fact that it was a bluesy atmosphere, full of people and life and music.

And that’s all we saw of Memphis.  As we were heading to Memphis is a rainstorm the driver’s side windshield wiper motor failed.  We spent three days trying to find a replacement to no avail, but as life with us occurs, we were turned onto a motor in Georgia and figured we could always get it drop shipped.

Beale Street from Schwabs

Schwab's on Beale Street, Memphis

Beautiful Schwab's room.  Love the SOUL

Schwab's Stairs

 

BB Kings Blues Club in Memphis

Selfie in BB Kings Blues Club

Beale Street, Memphis, TN

Segregated Fountains in antique mode at Schwab's

Pre-Thanksgiving, 2013

In the winter of 2012 we found ourselves in Florida.  To our surprise, it took almost two months to circumnavigate the state from the Atlantic/Georgia border side in St. Augustine, to the Gulf side panhandle/Alabama border.  Despite the heat and humidity, which is really marginal in the winter, we LOVE this state, and mostly we LOVE the Gulf side beaches.  

In following our camping budget of trying to stay in our RPI “club” parks, we ended up in a sweet little water-side town of Keaton Beach.  While there I put aside my sometimes hermit-life to go meet our pretty blonde neighbor who was fussing with her shells.  As a new inductee of “shelling” I was curious as to what she had found and what she was washing them with.  Tony and I ended up really liking these Alabamans, and, thanks to Facebook, kept in touch.  So when we decided to drop by Brad and Katie’s on our way to Florida, we also decided to see James and Wanda in Rogersville, AL. 

How glad we are we met up with them again!  James is the quieter of the two – solid, loving, kind, gracious, husband, father, grandfather, hard worker; Wanda, oh Wanda!, is kindness and love wrapped up in a beautiful Christian package.  She’s not only a good looking woman, she’s smart, loyal, hard-working, curious and funny.  I felt enveloped in her good-will, never out of sync with her lifestyle.  We met in downtown Rogersville – where she and James grew up – at a lovely steak house called Stanfield’s.  For not knowing one another well, we never ran out of conversation – in fact the waitress came back five times to take our orders but we were still catching up.  

After lunch they invited us back to their cozy home for Wanda’s homemade apple cake – need I say it was so moist and delicious, throw some coffee in and it was truly divine baking on her part.  We then talked on and on about everything under the sun, enjoying their company so much.  As God is such an important part in their lives we had a wonderful conversation about the bible and the Holy Spirit – positive characters they both encompass.  Most of you know I’m more of a believer in the big ball of love we can call god; that religion and church isn’t my idea of a full soul; that I mix my religious figures into LOVE toward self and others.  All in all, that’s their religion too.

Thanksgiving, 2013

Cullman, AL is the turkey spot this year.  We are so very fortunate to be spending the day with nephew Brad (brother Bernie and wife Ronna’s son) and his as-of-August bride Katie.  Smarty pants Katie is a Nurse Practitioner who loves her job, which specializes in substance abuse damage to the liver.  Brad, or “Bad Brad” as the world calls him, is a quarter mile race car driver for Lucas Oil.  Are those not cool occupations?!  We had a most excellent time catching up with them at dinner, pre-Thanksgiving.  What a great feeling for us, being adults with the now-adult kids!  They are both smart, engaging and funny.  Katie is curious about life, which I love, and asked many questions about our family…kind of filling in the gaps that her husband can’t, or won’t, or doesn’t know.

Tony, Jackie, beautiful Katie and Bad Brad Plourd

Tony, Katie, Callie and Brad

Brad

 

Mom Pam, Katie, Jan and Callie

Thanksgiving was at glorious noon – eat, greet, buh-bye!  Tony and I both loved the early dinner and the early home – no hanging around for hours, wondering what else there is to say or do.  Brad hooked him on his Lucas oil products for Blue as well – a great deal for a superior product.  Other guests were of course Katie’s family: father Richard, mother Pam, brother Riley; bff Callie and her mother Jan.

All of these native Alabamans kept us entertained and well-fed, and most of all ….. feeling like family.  Richard and Pam are divorced but friends.  Pam is not only a beautiful woman, but a great cook (cornbread dressing was to die for!), devoted mother to Katie and Riley, with a warm and lovely personality.  She was so welcoming to us – who could ask for more than that?  She’s a banker by trade, as is Riley.

Riley ….. what a wide, welcoming smile he has!  Not only handsome, but a southern gentleman as well.  He, like his sister, is curious and questioning – he wants to know who you are, what you like, where you’re going.  God I love that spark of interest!  We meet so few people who ask OF us; usually they TELL you about themselves, never courteous enough to ask about our world.  We in turn found out the basics of Riley’s world too…banker, from Cullman/Holly Pond, AL, single, heading for Vegas with friends to see the PRCA – pro rodeo world championship.  

Callie and Katie have been friends since first grade.  Callie is a beautiful woman, a graduate of Auburn U in marketing, owns her own boutique nearby in Hartselle, AL.  She’s been married seven years, unfortunately that’s recently come to an end, so a new phase of her life is in front of her – good and bad.  We were fortunate to accidentally drive through Hartsell – a quaint and lovely town. 

We can see why she’s been a success there.  Her mother Jan is also a fashionable southern belle – very beautiful – and a teacher of kindergarteners to boot!  

I’ve saved Richard for last as he is both complicated and simple to explain.  In our initial introduction he seemed a soft-spoken, good looking man – the former being a trifle deceptive.  As the minutes wore on he let his true self out, which is a gregarious, funny, sharp-tongued, blatently honest dude.  Been driving truck since he was 21, indeed, was heading for the road after dinner.  Southern through and through, drinking Mountain Dew, a mouthfull of Alabama drawl so loose and sweet these northern minds try and keep up but gets sucked into the soft vowels, losing our way.  He delights in shocking others with his insights and language; the “n” word is near and dear to his vocabulary.  Katie said it best after he left when stating, “I get nervous when he’s around people, what he’s going to say.”  Wise on her part to be aware of the fall-out from his running mouth.  He is who he is, basically a good guy who’s proud of his roots.

The great news is that they all love our Brad, have thoroughly accepted him into their fold.  He is now kith and kin to the Yeager’s, et al, soon to be drawling with the best of them.  We couldn’t be happier for him.