Well, I have to say, my Gypsy Heart should have her fill of traveling by the end of this trip. We made it to Raton (dragging our Farmer Feet along) in record time (which is probably why that nice State Trooper pulled me over in Rocky Ford). I was so flummoxed by that incident that I got lost, and drove around in a big circle. When I realized I was exhibiting the kind of behavior vultures look for, I pulled over and called Harry.
“Hi, honey. I’m lost.”
“Oh, really? Where are you?”
“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be lost.”
After I explained my situation, Harry pulled out his Colorado map (the State Trooper told me my map was no good - it isn’t detailed enough) and we figured out that I had made one wrong turn. That’s all it takes. He talked me through my directional problem, and I was back on track again.
I got lost again in Raton. Sometimes these Google directions are just too darned detailed. I was looking for a road that in actuality I would never need to drive on. This time I didn’t wait until I drove in a circle; as soon as it looked like I was headed out of town, I called Aaron and Kristy. Aaron stayed on the phone with me and shepherded me right to their front door.
Thank heavens for cell phones. I’ve been resisting purchasing a GPS, but I may have to rethink it, if my Gypsy Heart has her way.
Raton, New Mexico
I’m just stopping overnight for now, but I’m coming back to spend a little more time in this little beauty of a town. Raton is bigger than I thought it would be, and my heavens, it seems as though every person who lives here has a dog. Big dogs, little dogs, all kinds of dogs.
Did you ever wonder what dogs are actually saying to each other in their night-time canine choruses? It has to be more than just vocalization. Last night, long into the night, there were times when the big dogs were barking, but then there were times when one of the little dogs would start, and a little dog chorus would rise into the evening sky. And then there was the time when the little dog chorus started, and then the big dog chorus joined in.
Raton’s weather reminds me a lot of Colorado, where I grew up. Warm during the day, but very cool at night. It is nestled in the mountains, and the hillsides are teeming with wildlife. Humans and animals co-exist here. On our walk last night, in more than one front yard, the impossibly huge ears of mule deer swivelled as we walked by, keeping close track of us. Hummingbirds zipped by constantly. I heard tales of bears who wander through the town at night, using the town dumpsters as their smorgasbords. I can’t wait to go hiking. Kristy and Aaron have several places in mind. I’ll post pictures then.
But first, it’s off to Albuquerque!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
On the Road Again - Tomorrow Morning
Well, I’m sorry I don’t have any pictures to share with you today. Even if I took a picture, all it would show you would be the furkids napping. They are so happy to be home. Today I’m attempting to put some order to the chaos that surrounds me. (No, I'm not trying to make sense of the world - just doing laundry and putting things away. I've given up on the other).
It looks like I’m going to leave bright and early tomorrow morning for the Southwest. New Mexico, to be exact. I hope to drive straight through from here to Raton (an eleven-hour drive, with some time added for the Sontosky Wormhole Effect), stay overnight, and then continue on down to Albuquerque to visit my friend Diane for a couple of days. Then I’ll head back to Raton and stay a few more days with Kristy. That's the plan, anyhow. We'll see what happens to this plan.
All my life I have loved the ocean. I’ve always been drawn to it. For some reason, it almost seems as though New Mexico is demanding I pay it some attention. I can’t imagine anything more opposite than Oregon's lush forests and ocean beaches and New Mexico's dry heat and prickly pear. For fifteen years I longed to live in Oregon. Maybe New Mexico intends to work its magic on me - as it has on so many others.
It seems so very odd to be planning on leaving my furkids behind. It’s not like I haven’t gone places without them, but usually I’m making plans that include them. Remember back when I was saying “This trip is for ME” and “I will be able to stop when and where I want to,” etc.? Well, when it gets right down to it, I wouldn’t have been able to. My trip still would have revolved around the furkids - when they needed to stop, when they needed to eat, if they were thirsty, if they were too hot or too cold. Maybe this is what the whole thing was all about - the PTB ("Powers That Be") wanted me to truly take a trip by myself.
Traveling for one is sure a lot simpler, though! All I’ll have to do is throw a few things in a bag, and away I go. No packing dog food, prescriptions, water, leashes, etc. No poop bags. (I fully intend to use restrooms). No provisioning. Just me, a bag and some cash.
This is starting to sound awfully darned good!
It looks like I’m going to leave bright and early tomorrow morning for the Southwest. New Mexico, to be exact. I hope to drive straight through from here to Raton (an eleven-hour drive, with some time added for the Sontosky Wormhole Effect), stay overnight, and then continue on down to Albuquerque to visit my friend Diane for a couple of days. Then I’ll head back to Raton and stay a few more days with Kristy. That's the plan, anyhow. We'll see what happens to this plan.
All my life I have loved the ocean. I’ve always been drawn to it. For some reason, it almost seems as though New Mexico is demanding I pay it some attention. I can’t imagine anything more opposite than Oregon's lush forests and ocean beaches and New Mexico's dry heat and prickly pear. For fifteen years I longed to live in Oregon. Maybe New Mexico intends to work its magic on me - as it has on so many others.
It seems so very odd to be planning on leaving my furkids behind. It’s not like I haven’t gone places without them, but usually I’m making plans that include them. Remember back when I was saying “This trip is for ME” and “I will be able to stop when and where I want to,” etc.? Well, when it gets right down to it, I wouldn’t have been able to. My trip still would have revolved around the furkids - when they needed to stop, when they needed to eat, if they were thirsty, if they were too hot or too cold. Maybe this is what the whole thing was all about - the PTB ("Powers That Be") wanted me to truly take a trip by myself.
Traveling for one is sure a lot simpler, though! All I’ll have to do is throw a few things in a bag, and away I go. No packing dog food, prescriptions, water, leashes, etc. No poop bags. (I fully intend to use restrooms). No provisioning. Just me, a bag and some cash.
This is starting to sound awfully darned good!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
A Little Ass (or three)
Yesterday, on the pretense of helping Harry install a beautiful stained glass window for our friends Larry and Dick, I visited with their three miniature donkeys, Molly, Misty and Star. (yes, I did help with the installation - we did that first).
Here are a few pictures of the little girls, along with their friend, a sweet black poodle named Woody. 
And now, after that little break, I must go out and clean out The Rig. I spoke with Casey this morning, explained the situation, and we've made arrangements for me to bring it back this evening, after Harry gets off work. Casey has actually been pretty decent to deal with throughout this whole thing - he says he's going to refund the mileage I didn't use, and that I should take The Rig back out this fall sometime, after things are all settled down. I didn't tell him about Star's discomfort with the RV - but maybe, by then, things will be different.
I'll admit to a few tears this morning, thinking that right now I would have been looking at my beloved ocean.
Onward and upward.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Home Again.
It was tough to leave Chadron. Partially because of the peace I found there, but partially because when we hit the road it meant I would have to start making some decisions.
Just watching Star on the way back made one decision for me. Poor thing, she never did warm up to The Rig. I’d been hoping that after all the time spent in it, she’d grow accustomed it and relax. After all, it really wasn’t any noisier than Harry’s van, and we’ve used that for camping in the past. Unfortunately, the closest Star got to relaxing was hunching over, tail tucked firmly between her legs, and hiding her face in the side of the nearest leg.
So, one decision has been made. The RV is going back. I know, I have it rented for another week plus some, but once I get it cleaned up, I’m just going to return it. If I go anywhere else, I’ll just take the Dogmobile - it sucks less gas. It’s not that I didn’t like The Rig. I found myself looking wistfully back into it after I took our valuables out of it last night. But even though I’m returning it early and not using it for it’s initially intended purpose, I learned valuable lessons from it:
1. Star hates it;
2. I loved the convenience and feeling of safety the RV gave me, as opposed to tent camping; and
3. I think the Airstream Dream is still a viable option, especially if I go camping before Memorial Day and after Labor Day. Star won’t hate being in a truck, and she liked the RV as long as the engine wasn’t running.
Harry and I both looked forward to a comfortable, restful evening once we got home. It started off well. We ordered a Pizza Hut veggie lover’s pizza with Italian sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese, and settled in with a couple of beers to watch a few more episodes of “Firefly.” (I’d had them packed to go on The Big Trip, and we started watching them over again.)
We all went to bed at a decent hour. The dogs were overjoyed to be back in their comfy beds in their familiar surroundings.
At about 2:30, there was a commotion at the side of the bed. It was Winnie, having another stroke, or maybe a seizure. This one was much worse than the previous ones. I picked Winnie up and carried her outside, thinking perhaps the warmth of the bedroom had triggered it, and ended up holding her on my lap on a lounge chair on the patio for close to 45 minutes while she trembled. Several times I attempted to put Winnie on her feet, thinking she might be coming out of it, but she couldn’t stand at all. Harry finally came down, and I asked him to bring her some water, thinking it might help. Nothing helped. Finally, the trembling seemed to ease and I brought her back inside and laid her gently on the couch. Harry slept in his Comfy Chair and I stretched out on the settle, where I could see her. Star curled up next to Winnie on the couch, and Tim snored away in the foyer, seemingly oblivious to the entire episode. Shortly after I drifted off to sleep, there was a crash; Winnie had fallen off the couch. I helped rearrange her and went back to the settle. Things were quiet after that - it was 5:30 a.m.
Amazingly enough, aside from a residual wobble in her gait, and a tendency to nearly fall over when she looks down, she’s doing very well. I’m still unsure of what the night will bring, but at least I’m not worried about leaving her on the couch to sleep. She seems to show no signs of wanting to go upstairs, and I’m happy about that.
I’m also happy I’m not on my way to California with a greyhound on my knee.
Just watching Star on the way back made one decision for me. Poor thing, she never did warm up to The Rig. I’d been hoping that after all the time spent in it, she’d grow accustomed it and relax. After all, it really wasn’t any noisier than Harry’s van, and we’ve used that for camping in the past. Unfortunately, the closest Star got to relaxing was hunching over, tail tucked firmly between her legs, and hiding her face in the side of the nearest leg.
So, one decision has been made. The RV is going back. I know, I have it rented for another week plus some, but once I get it cleaned up, I’m just going to return it. If I go anywhere else, I’ll just take the Dogmobile - it sucks less gas. It’s not that I didn’t like The Rig. I found myself looking wistfully back into it after I took our valuables out of it last night. But even though I’m returning it early and not using it for it’s initially intended purpose, I learned valuable lessons from it:
1. Star hates it;
2. I loved the convenience and feeling of safety the RV gave me, as opposed to tent camping; and
3. I think the Airstream Dream is still a viable option, especially if I go camping before Memorial Day and after Labor Day. Star won’t hate being in a truck, and she liked the RV as long as the engine wasn’t running.
Harry and I both looked forward to a comfortable, restful evening once we got home. It started off well. We ordered a Pizza Hut veggie lover’s pizza with Italian sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese, and settled in with a couple of beers to watch a few more episodes of “Firefly.” (I’d had them packed to go on The Big Trip, and we started watching them over again.)
We all went to bed at a decent hour. The dogs were overjoyed to be back in their comfy beds in their familiar surroundings.
At about 2:30, there was a commotion at the side of the bed. It was Winnie, having another stroke, or maybe a seizure. This one was much worse than the previous ones. I picked Winnie up and carried her outside, thinking perhaps the warmth of the bedroom had triggered it, and ended up holding her on my lap on a lounge chair on the patio for close to 45 minutes while she trembled. Several times I attempted to put Winnie on her feet, thinking she might be coming out of it, but she couldn’t stand at all. Harry finally came down, and I asked him to bring her some water, thinking it might help. Nothing helped. Finally, the trembling seemed to ease and I brought her back inside and laid her gently on the couch. Harry slept in his Comfy Chair and I stretched out on the settle, where I could see her. Star curled up next to Winnie on the couch, and Tim snored away in the foyer, seemingly oblivious to the entire episode. Shortly after I drifted off to sleep, there was a crash; Winnie had fallen off the couch. I helped rearrange her and went back to the settle. Things were quiet after that - it was 5:30 a.m.
Amazingly enough, aside from a residual wobble in her gait, and a tendency to nearly fall over when she looks down, she’s doing very well. I’m still unsure of what the night will bring, but at least I’m not worried about leaving her on the couch to sleep. She seems to show no signs of wanting to go upstairs, and I’m happy about that.
I’m also happy I’m not on my way to California with a greyhound on my knee.
The Hike at Chadron
The trail wound through forests, meadows and up rocky slopes.
The lush meadows were a mecca for ticks. You can see one of them there on Winnie's face. By the time we finished the hike, back at the RV, we counted 58 of them picked from Winnie, 35 or so from Tim, 47 of them from Star, and a good dozen or so from each other. We all had the heebie jeebies that night (especially Tim).
This was an interesting bluff - see the hole in it, there? I'd hoped the trail might lead up to it, but no such luck.
In between her bursts of wild energy, when she would take off like a rocket, Star would come back and keep Winnie company.
Even when Winnie needed to take a little break.
Tim on the move.
A flower alongside the trail.
Star running up the trail.
Bushes are blooming - these smelled great.
Star loves running wild.
Winnie started off slow, but she kept on going.
Finally, at the top - looking off towards the Black Hills.
The view in the other direction.
Headed back down the ridge. The strong winds made me glad I have a low profile - no such luck for Harry.
Still in Chadron; A Near Miss
May 24, 2010
In the afternoon, after a short hike, a nap and a novella, I think my soul is finally settling down.
I took the dogs for what turned into a hike earlier. It was just going to be a little walk after breakfast, while Harry took a nap or read, but we ended up walking up a service road that we discovered has been groomed into a hiking trail that led up to the top of a ridge. Winnie trailed along; we had to stop for her several times, but she doesn’t want to left behind, so I figure as long as she wants to come, she’s welcome. Harry asked earlier if I thought Winnie would be up for a hike, and I told him that I can’t imagine a better way for her to go than if her tired old heart gave out while she was hiking with her family.
Tim has been a lot of fun - we’ve discovered that if we give him the ticks we pick off (there have been dozens of them) he loves to dispatch them. They tickle his tongue and he shakes his head and drools on them, and eventually he just eats them. Kind of convenient, actually. That way, I don’t have to keep getting up and throwing them out the door.
Star has been very aloof to me during the trip. It hurt my feelings - pretty badly - until I finally figured out what I think it may be all about. I think Star is one of those dogs who is affected by the emotions and feelings of those around her. She can feel the turmoil I’ve been going through and it’s pretty unsettling for her. She hasn’t noticed anything wrong with Winnie that I can tell, although she did curl up close to her earlier today for a little nap. The more settled I feel, the closer she’s been getting to me. We may be back to normal after all is said and done.
It looks like storms are blowing in. Huge towers of billowing white clouds are gathering, with dark, threatening underbellies. The wind is picking up, as well, but I’m comfortable as can be watching the changing weather from inside The Rig. I can certainly understand the allure of the RV lifestyle!
May 24, 2010
We had just gotten up on the ridge, not very far on our hike, when I heard it. I called to Harry, who was ahead of my a ways. “Harry, does that sound like a tornado siren to you?” He shook his head and indicated he couldn’t hear anything, but we turned and started back, just in case.
As we approached the campground, we saw a Game and Parks truck with three rangers in it headed in our direction. As they pulled up, I said, “Tell me that isn’t a tornado siren I’m hearing.”
The one in the middle grinned, and the man closest to me said, “Yes, ma’am, it is. They tell us it’s about ten minutes away and moving fast.”
I said, “Well, where’s the best place to be, then?”
He nodded up the hill. “Well, we’re thinking the showers up there would be the best place.”
Harry and I headed directly to the bathrooms. When you live in the Midwest, you learn quickly that tornados are nothing to mess with (especially considering the luck I’ve been having with my vacation so far). And what a storm it was! We stood in the relative safety of the door to the brick shower house and watched the lightening, hail and torrential rain. The claps of thunder were never close, though, and it wasn’t long before the major portion of the storm passed. We passed the time taking ticks off of the dogs and each other, and giving them to Tim or throwing them outside. Hey, you do what you can to pass the time.
Now Harry is finishing his book, and the sun is shining brightly. I’m enjoying a cup of tea; Winnie is sleeping right next to me. The wind is strong (it’s blowing around the broken antenna on top of The Rig), and off to the east, the sky is navy blue with storm clouds, moving fast to the north. Maybe we’ll be able to get back upon the ridge later, when the sun is setting. If the remnants of the storm are still there, it could be a beautiful sunset!
Or, maybe Harry will finish his book before sunset and we’ll be able to get out in the beautiful sunshine!
Chadron State Park
May 24, 2010
Chadron State Park
It is an absolutely beautiful morning here in Chadron. We pulled in here last night at around 6:00 p.m., took a short hike to reconnoiter (e.g., find the nearest bathroom, and how best to get there in the nighttime), and then lounged around and read. Turned in about 10:00.
(You may ask, why find the bathrooms if you have an RV? It has a bathroom, after all. Well, that’s one of the things Casey advised against. That, and using the furnace. He suggested if I thought I would need heat, to bring a space heater. On the way here we saw the burned out husk of a 5th wheel trailer at a nearby RV park. I wonder if they were using space heaters . . .)
Beautiful though it may be, this place is just crawling with ticks. I just plucked another one off my neck, and found three of them on me last night while I was trying to sleep. I guess every rose has its thorns, right?
Last night there was a thunderstorm that made me glad we were in an RV and not a tent. The lightening flashed, the thunder crashed with the sound thunder can only make out in the country and the rain just poured down. I extricated myself from the tangle of covers, dogs and husband and closed the roof vent and the windows, wriggled my way back under the covers and drifted back to sleep. Harry’s having a harder time of sleeping than I am, I think. After the first night, I learned I had to trap the comforter between my butt and the wall or I would have no covers. That means now Harry has no covers. (Wink)
To give Harry a little time to actually sleep, I headed out this morning to take a shower. The shower facilities were clean and well-kept. It would have been nice if I’d thought to bring a hairbrush or a comb, though - but fingers make a good comb, in a pinch. The morning breeze, fragrant with the scent of clove currants (which are in full bloom and growing wild here), dried my hair and now it is braided tidily back into containment.
I imagine you’re probably wondering how Winnie is doing. Whatever it was that she went through Saturday (wow - it seems so long ago) has fundamentally changed her. Her face, the way she moves - they all reflect every one of her 18 years. Her eyes seem a little sunken and her face just plain looks old. She looks tired. No one could mistake her for a younger dog now. She had a seizure or another stroke yesterday morning. I was typing while sitting right next to her. She was sleeping with her eyes half-open (kind of freaky, but not unusual), and then her eyes opened all the way, as if in surprise. She half-sat up and then her neck twisted into an impossible right angle and her front leg stuck out, and there she was, frozen. Her whole frame shuddered. I tried to comfort her the best I could, and eventually it passed.
Harry and I had a talk yesterday about what I’m going to do when we get back home. He says I should just pack up the RV and take the dogs to New Mexico. I’m not so sure that’s a great idea. When I told him that, he got really frustrated with me and told me I need to stop letting the dogs dictate my life to me; stop letting them run the show. If we want to go somewhere I need to just kennel the dogs and I need to stop using them as an excuse for not doing the things I want to do in my life. (Honestly, I think Harry was referring to trips he's wanted me to take with him. I know there has been a time or two when I did use the dogs as an excuse not to go somewhere. I'll admit it).
Was I using Winnie as an excuse not to go on the Big Trip? I don’t think so, but it is so easy to fool one's self. You know I wrote about the possibility of Winnie dying on the trip. I thought I had made peace with my decision, but when I was carrying her into the house after her first stroke/seizure, I knew I didn’t want to deal with her death on my own. I was alone with the vet when Mikey the Dingo Dog died, and I was alone with my mother when she died. Both were very difficult times for me.
I do know that, in a way, I’m not unhappy with the way things have worked out. I had no idea that Star would dislike riding in the RV as much as she does. After all, she loves riding in the car - I figured riding in the RV would be a natural for her. Star doesn’t mind being in the RV when it is stationery, but just turning on the engine starts her trembling, and she stands and pants, mile after mile after mile. I don’t know about you, but the idea of Star standing, trembling and panting for 3,600 miles over a span of 10 days seems pretty awful to me. And Winnie dying far from home, without her Dad, seems pretty selfish to me, too.
I’ve also learned that the typical RV “way of life” is probably not for me - at least, not at RV parks. When I go camping, it’s to get away from people, not watch someone take their grandkids fishing. Or to ride my bike throughout the RV park. Nor to keep the furkids all on-leash all the time. (This all became crystal clear at Windmill SRA).
This experience in Chadron is the perfect tonic for me right now - I think there are only two other people in the whole park. If I were so inclined, I could just open the door of The Rig and let the dogs out without leashes. (Although, yesterday I did see a moron “walking” his dogs by driving through the park with his arm sticking out the window and the dogs running alongside on their leashes. I'm surprised neither of them were killed.)
So here I sit. It is beautiful, here. I’m listening to birds sing and dogs sleep. Harry’s just beginning to stir. At this time today, let’s see - I would be on my way to the Double Dice in Elko, Nevada. I would have met Tara and Lady last night, in Green River, Wyoming. I would have seen the Flaming Gorge. And today I would have had lunch with Tari on my way through Utah.
Somehow, the “at this time” game just doesn’t seem as much fun anymore. But you know why, right? It’s no longer important anymore. The future is ahead, and sad longings are in the past. I still have almost two weeks of vacation ahead of me. What shall I do with them?
What, indeed!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Windmill SRA and Beyond
Tonight we’re at Windmill State Recreation Area, a small, emerald jewel of a park close to the I-80 corridor.
I’m looking out the window at a green expanse of trees swaying in the wind. The wind - my gosh, that wind! It sapped my strength and sucked my energy, keeping The Rig on the road while the wind whipped us in any direction at its whim. Birds flew like scraps of paper blown in every direction, and tractor-trailers swerved dangerously, making me hold my breath with each trucker who passed us.
I wish I could say the dogs just love the RV way of life. So far, in truth, Winnie is the only one who has taken it all in with her usual nonchalant aplomb, while Tim searched for the nearest lap and Star looked for a dark corner to hide in. No matter whether it was the compartment my feet, the brakes and the gas pedal were in - Star was sure she could fit there, too. She was absolutely terrified, poor thing. Trembled like a leaf in the wind. She finally curled into the tightest ball she could, right between the front seats. Eventually, Harry went back into the back, and as soon as he did, Tim hopped into the passenger seat (his usual place, in the Dogmobile) and Star seemed to settle - somewhat - next to him. We rode that way for quite a while.
After the day I’ve had, I’m pretty much toast. I’m happy to leave the Great Outdoors to whoever wants it. I’ll take the air conditioning and some stillness.
I could sure use some stillness. Inside and out.
It looks like tomorrow we’ll be headed to Chadron.
May 23, 2010
Still Playing the Game
I woke up this morning sandwiched between the wall of the RV and Star. Harry snored on the other side of Star, and Winnie was standing up in the near darkness. I poked Harry in the shoulder. “Harry, Winnie needs out.” We’d decided that since he wanted to sleep on the outside, he’d be the one who would get up in the wee hours, when Winnie usually need to pee.
I lay there in the early morning darkness. The morning dawned as overcast as my spirit. Sure, I was in The Rig. Vacationing! With my hubby! But it was a far cry from what I’d been expecting. It kind of feels like a stake has been driven through my Gypsy Heart. I feel guilty even whining about it. I mean, after all, lots of people have things to actually be upset about. People with family members suffering from incurable diseases or life-threatening injuries; people who have lost their jobs and have no options. Still, I can't help but think, "At this time I would have been..."
Later that day...
We are now stopped at the Lasso Espresso. This lovely barbed wire buffalo grazes at the Sod House Museum, right next door. Sorry about the messiness of this whole thing, but I can barely see the screen in the dappled sunshine, so I'm just going for it.
We'll be back on the road again in a couple minutes - I'll check in when I'm able!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
When Life Gives you Detours...
Well, The Big Trip has taken its biggest detour ever. It has now morphed into, possibly, two smaller trips. With Winnie’s health being so fragile, it seems foolhardy to take off on The Big Trip.
Harry has decided he can take a couple days off, so we’re going to go somewhere in Nebraska. I’ll let you know more when I know more. And if Winnie recovers to the point where she seems to be okay, then I’ll see about another trip.
Keep tuned in - this is going to be as much of a surprise to me as it is to you!
Harry has decided he can take a couple days off, so we’re going to go somewhere in Nebraska. I’ll let you know more when I know more. And if Winnie recovers to the point where she seems to be okay, then I’ll see about another trip.
Keep tuned in - this is going to be as much of a surprise to me as it is to you!
Agonizing. Just Agonizing.
Did you ever wish someone would tell you what to do? Someone would tell you the future?
I really find myself wishing that right now.
Went to Leach Camper to get the shroud for the AC unit on The Rig this morning. We were half an hour too early, so we went over to Ferrell Gas, filled the propane tank and came back. Leach didn’t have the part we needed, but redirected us to Apache, a good half-hour away. They had the part, and we installed it in the high winds we’re experiencing today. So far, not great, but okay. The Rig is now roadworthy.
When we came home, Winnie was acting strange. When she walked, she was picking up one front foot high above the ground, and shortly after that, while we watched, Winnie slowly started sinking towards the ground. I caught her before she collapsed altogether, and carried her into the house. Her head hung down like she was unconscious. By the time I got her to the couch, she seemed to be recovering somewhat. At my suggestion, we left her there on the couch and went to a quilt show just over on Wesleyan’s campus, and when we came back, Winnie seemed almost normal again - but she had one of her “impromptupoop” incidents just a few minutes ago.
I just don’t know what to do now. The Rig is roadworthy, but is Winnie? Was it a stroke, with more to come?
If I leave by 2:00, I can still make it to Ogallala. If I don’t make it to Ogallala today, then all the rest of my reservations are moot.
I just don’t know what to do.
I really find myself wishing that right now.
Went to Leach Camper to get the shroud for the AC unit on The Rig this morning. We were half an hour too early, so we went over to Ferrell Gas, filled the propane tank and came back. Leach didn’t have the part we needed, but redirected us to Apache, a good half-hour away. They had the part, and we installed it in the high winds we’re experiencing today. So far, not great, but okay. The Rig is now roadworthy.
When we came home, Winnie was acting strange. When she walked, she was picking up one front foot high above the ground, and shortly after that, while we watched, Winnie slowly started sinking towards the ground. I caught her before she collapsed altogether, and carried her into the house. Her head hung down like she was unconscious. By the time I got her to the couch, she seemed to be recovering somewhat. At my suggestion, we left her there on the couch and went to a quilt show just over on Wesleyan’s campus, and when we came back, Winnie seemed almost normal again - but she had one of her “impromptupoop” incidents just a few minutes ago.
I just don’t know what to do now. The Rig is roadworthy, but is Winnie? Was it a stroke, with more to come?
If I leave by 2:00, I can still make it to Ogallala. If I don’t make it to Ogallala today, then all the rest of my reservations are moot.
I just don’t know what to do.
A New Day
After a great night’s dreamless sleep, from which I awoke with no memory of last night, my attitude has much improved. The memories drifted back, bit by bit, but instead of the overwhelming odds of failure they appeared to be last night, they look more like quirks this morning. It kind of looks like rain, which is not necessarily a good thing (nor was it forecast), but I’m going to get out there and wash that windshield. Everything looks better through a clean windshield. I’ll be at Leach before they open, and we’ll just see what we shall see!
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Big Ds.
“Does that thing look washed to you?” I asked Harry as we followed Casey to his house. Casey was driving The Rig and we followed in the Dogmobile.
“Well, it doesn’t look particularly clean,” observed Harry. “But it doesn’t look like anyone’s driven it down a gravel road lately.”
My shiny hopes and bright ideas dimmed more and more as the evening wore on. The first thing Casey did was climb up on top of the RV with the new shroud I’d brought from Leach Camper Sales. Harry and I stood inside the rig, looking around, as it pitched back and forth from Casey’s energetic efforts to install the cover over the air conditioner.
Finally, I climbed the ladder myself to see how things were progressing. I found Casey, a perplexed look on his face, attempting to fit a shroud that looked to be a good two inches too short and an inch too wide over the air conditioner.
“I’m afraid this just isn’t going to work,” he said, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure how to rig it, either.”
He climbed back down, and we talked for a while. The conversation condensed down to this: it looks like tomorrow morning, instead of packing the RV and getting ready to leave, I’ll be taking The Rig over to Leach Camper Sales to see if they have the correct cover in stock, and then I’ll be installing it.
And then, I’ll be cleaning The Rig.
Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a stickler for squeaky clean. I mean, I like things tidy, but I’m not a white glove cleaner unless company’s coming. But I guess when I saw a rental agreement that said there’d be a $50 cleaning fee if The Rig didn’t come back clean, I had a different idea of what “clean” was than Casey appears to. I’d say that the carpet under the table and under the hideabed sofa hasn’t seen a vacuum cleaner for a very long time. Which wouldn’t really bother me if I weren’t bringing along a nosy terrier who can get into most small spaces and who likes to investigate nooks and crannies. And who loves to snack on things he shouldn’t. Who knows what’s in that treasure trove of trash I glimpsed as Casey demonstrated how the sofabed opens? I don’t want Tim finding out.
And the disappointment didn’t stop there. I lost count of how many times Casey told me something had to be done “just right” or it wouldn’t work. The air conditioner has to be switched on with a paper clip. He wouldn’t advise using the furnace; instead, if I thought it would be cold, I should just bring a space heater. The propane tank was less than a quarter full; which would be fine unless I wanted to use the stove or the water heater.
We came to an arrangement on the cleanliness of The Rig, though. Casey offered to pay me $100 if I brought it back sparkly clean. Which I intend to make it before I hit the road.
By the time we headed back to Lincoln, the sun was setting. I followed Harry so I wouldn’t have to think about where I was. I couldn’t even figure out how to adjust the mirrors, so the drive home in the dark was a bit unsettling at times, but I began to get used to the feel of The Rig. It has 55,000 miles on it - not bad. It was a bit bouncy, but it didn’t rattle a lot - even with the few things Casey had thrown in the cupboards, and the vacuum cleaner full of dirt that rolled back and forth in the cabinet.
The way I had things figured as far as sleeping arrangements isn’t going to work, but I’m starting to figure out ways to make it work.
When I started this entry, I was in the dark dreaded grasp of the dismal Ds - disappointment, disillusion and depression. Just the act of telling you about it has helped, though.
Tomorrow will dawn, a new day. And so will my attitude.
I hope.
“Well, it doesn’t look particularly clean,” observed Harry. “But it doesn’t look like anyone’s driven it down a gravel road lately.”
My shiny hopes and bright ideas dimmed more and more as the evening wore on. The first thing Casey did was climb up on top of the RV with the new shroud I’d brought from Leach Camper Sales. Harry and I stood inside the rig, looking around, as it pitched back and forth from Casey’s energetic efforts to install the cover over the air conditioner.
Finally, I climbed the ladder myself to see how things were progressing. I found Casey, a perplexed look on his face, attempting to fit a shroud that looked to be a good two inches too short and an inch too wide over the air conditioner.
“I’m afraid this just isn’t going to work,” he said, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure how to rig it, either.”
He climbed back down, and we talked for a while. The conversation condensed down to this: it looks like tomorrow morning, instead of packing the RV and getting ready to leave, I’ll be taking The Rig over to Leach Camper Sales to see if they have the correct cover in stock, and then I’ll be installing it.
And then, I’ll be cleaning The Rig.
Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a stickler for squeaky clean. I mean, I like things tidy, but I’m not a white glove cleaner unless company’s coming. But I guess when I saw a rental agreement that said there’d be a $50 cleaning fee if The Rig didn’t come back clean, I had a different idea of what “clean” was than Casey appears to. I’d say that the carpet under the table and under the hideabed sofa hasn’t seen a vacuum cleaner for a very long time. Which wouldn’t really bother me if I weren’t bringing along a nosy terrier who can get into most small spaces and who likes to investigate nooks and crannies. And who loves to snack on things he shouldn’t. Who knows what’s in that treasure trove of trash I glimpsed as Casey demonstrated how the sofabed opens? I don’t want Tim finding out.
And the disappointment didn’t stop there. I lost count of how many times Casey told me something had to be done “just right” or it wouldn’t work. The air conditioner has to be switched on with a paper clip. He wouldn’t advise using the furnace; instead, if I thought it would be cold, I should just bring a space heater. The propane tank was less than a quarter full; which would be fine unless I wanted to use the stove or the water heater.
We came to an arrangement on the cleanliness of The Rig, though. Casey offered to pay me $100 if I brought it back sparkly clean. Which I intend to make it before I hit the road.
By the time we headed back to Lincoln, the sun was setting. I followed Harry so I wouldn’t have to think about where I was. I couldn’t even figure out how to adjust the mirrors, so the drive home in the dark was a bit unsettling at times, but I began to get used to the feel of The Rig. It has 55,000 miles on it - not bad. It was a bit bouncy, but it didn’t rattle a lot - even with the few things Casey had thrown in the cupboards, and the vacuum cleaner full of dirt that rolled back and forth in the cabinet.
The way I had things figured as far as sleeping arrangements isn’t going to work, but I’m starting to figure out ways to make it work.
When I started this entry, I was in the dark dreaded grasp of the dismal Ds - disappointment, disillusion and depression. Just the act of telling you about it has helped, though.
Tomorrow will dawn, a new day. And so will my attitude.
I hope.
Just one more teeny glitch...
The phone rings. I pick it up.
“This is Lisa.”
“Yeah, Lisa? This is Casey . . . you know.”
“Oh, yeah, right! Hi, Casey! How are things going?”
“Well, there’s a problem. (pause) But don’t worry, it’s not a big problem.”
“What happened, Casey?”
“Well, when I went to get the RV to have the oil changed and get it all checked out, I noticed that someone stole the cover off the air conditioner on top.”
“Omigod! Who on earth would want to do that??”
(Pause)
“Well, I guess it could have blown off, but I looked around and I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
(Another pause)
“Thing is, I work until 6:00 tonight. I could drive over to Council Bluffs and pick one up, but I was wondering - are you anywhere near Leach Camper Sales?”
“Well, yeah! It’s just down the street from here.”
(That’s where that old Airstream was that I told you all about.)
“Well, I was thinking - they have one of those covers on their shelf, see? And if you could swing by there and pick it up, I could call down there and order it and pay for it, and you could bring it on out with you when you come to pick up the RV, and I could just put it on then. Just takes four screws, that’s all.”
By now, I’m thinking - if Casey has to drive to Council Bluffs, that’s at least 45 minutes from where he is, and if his schedule is already so busy he can’t meet until 7:30, I might as well give up on getting the RV tonight at all. Duh. The choice is clear - pick up the part or pick up the RV tomorrow!
“Of course I can do that, Casey! No problem! What are their hours, anyway? I have to work until 5:00.”
“Let me look here . . . (pause) . . . It says they’re open until 6:00.”
“Great! I’ll just run over there after work!”
A few minutes later, the phone rings again.
“Lisa? Hi, it’s Casey again. Listen, I just ordered that part, but they close at 5:00 tonight. Is there any way you can get it during your lunch hour?”
“Sure thing, Casey. I’m sure glad you called back before lunchtime!”
_______________________________
So, I now have an air conditioner cover in the back of the Dogmobile. I’m thinking I’d better bring my cordless drill and screwdriver bits, too!
“This is Lisa.”
“Yeah, Lisa? This is Casey . . . you know.”
“Oh, yeah, right! Hi, Casey! How are things going?”
“Well, there’s a problem. (pause) But don’t worry, it’s not a big problem.”
“What happened, Casey?”
“Well, when I went to get the RV to have the oil changed and get it all checked out, I noticed that someone stole the cover off the air conditioner on top.”
“Omigod! Who on earth would want to do that??”
(Pause)
“Well, I guess it could have blown off, but I looked around and I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
(Another pause)
“Thing is, I work until 6:00 tonight. I could drive over to Council Bluffs and pick one up, but I was wondering - are you anywhere near Leach Camper Sales?”
“Well, yeah! It’s just down the street from here.”
(That’s where that old Airstream was that I told you all about.)
“Well, I was thinking - they have one of those covers on their shelf, see? And if you could swing by there and pick it up, I could call down there and order it and pay for it, and you could bring it on out with you when you come to pick up the RV, and I could just put it on then. Just takes four screws, that’s all.”
By now, I’m thinking - if Casey has to drive to Council Bluffs, that’s at least 45 minutes from where he is, and if his schedule is already so busy he can’t meet until 7:30, I might as well give up on getting the RV tonight at all. Duh. The choice is clear - pick up the part or pick up the RV tomorrow!
“Of course I can do that, Casey! No problem! What are their hours, anyway? I have to work until 5:00.”
“Let me look here . . . (pause) . . . It says they’re open until 6:00.”
“Great! I’ll just run over there after work!”
A few minutes later, the phone rings again.
“Lisa? Hi, it’s Casey again. Listen, I just ordered that part, but they close at 5:00 tonight. Is there any way you can get it during your lunch hour?”
“Sure thing, Casey. I’m sure glad you called back before lunchtime!”
_______________________________
So, I now have an air conditioner cover in the back of the Dogmobile. I’m thinking I’d better bring my cordless drill and screwdriver bits, too!
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Snags and Snarls
Have I mentioned that I don’t do well when things get rescheduled? It’s true. Much as I would love to be one of those free spirits who can easily go with the flow, when I have everything seamlessly scheduled and there is a bump in the road, I don’t take it kindly.
Take tonight, for example.
Winnie was to have her Depo Medrol injections tonight, at 6:15 p.m. I just got a call from the vet’s office, wanting to reschedule. At the sound of the panic in my voice, they were quick to set me up with an appointment first thing tomorrow morning, but I feel so badly for Winnie. Last night on our walk, when she was having troubles with her hind end and her foot was dragging with nearly every step, I hugged her and told her she was a very good and special girl for hanging in there, and I promised her that she would have her injections in time for her next walk. After last night, she wouldn’t need to spend long intervals at the top of the stairs, trying to decide just how badly she needed to go outside. Poor Winnie. One more night.
(But still, she will get her injections before the trip. It's okay.)
And take tomorrow night as another example.
Last week when I talked to Casey, he told me he thought we could meet up around 6:00 tomorrow night so I could pick up the RV. When I called him this afternoon to confirm the time, Casey said that tomorrow night around 7:30 would be better for him. Argh. So much for me being able to get everything all packed up and then sit back and relax and watch a movie with Harry Friday night! I was also hoping Casey would have time to go through all the operating instructions with me in the daylight. It should still be somewhat light, and I’m pretty good at figuring things out, so I'm sure it will be okay, but I really didn't want to be driving the RV home in the dark.
(But still, I'm still getting the RV earlier than was originally scheduled, which was Saturday morning. It's okay.)
I’ll admit to feeling a bit snarly right now, just the same.
It will get better, I’m sure. I just need to adjust.
(Close your eyes, Lisa. Straighten your back, square your shoulders. Take a deep breath ... and another deep breath).
And adjusting is one thing at which I excel!
Take tonight, for example.
Winnie was to have her Depo Medrol injections tonight, at 6:15 p.m. I just got a call from the vet’s office, wanting to reschedule. At the sound of the panic in my voice, they were quick to set me up with an appointment first thing tomorrow morning, but I feel so badly for Winnie. Last night on our walk, when she was having troubles with her hind end and her foot was dragging with nearly every step, I hugged her and told her she was a very good and special girl for hanging in there, and I promised her that she would have her injections in time for her next walk. After last night, she wouldn’t need to spend long intervals at the top of the stairs, trying to decide just how badly she needed to go outside. Poor Winnie. One more night.
(But still, she will get her injections before the trip. It's okay.)
And take tomorrow night as another example.
Last week when I talked to Casey, he told me he thought we could meet up around 6:00 tomorrow night so I could pick up the RV. When I called him this afternoon to confirm the time, Casey said that tomorrow night around 7:30 would be better for him. Argh. So much for me being able to get everything all packed up and then sit back and relax and watch a movie with Harry Friday night! I was also hoping Casey would have time to go through all the operating instructions with me in the daylight. It should still be somewhat light, and I’m pretty good at figuring things out, so I'm sure it will be okay, but I really didn't want to be driving the RV home in the dark.
(But still, I'm still getting the RV earlier than was originally scheduled, which was Saturday morning. It's okay.)
I’ll admit to feeling a bit snarly right now, just the same.
It will get better, I’m sure. I just need to adjust.
(Close your eyes, Lisa. Straighten your back, square your shoulders. Take a deep breath ... and another deep breath).
And adjusting is one thing at which I excel!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Down to the Wire
Only two days until departure! I’m pretty well set to go. Tonight I packed my clothes, made cinnamon rolls and red beans & rice for Harry, and gathered a collection of traveling music of my own.
Tomorrow’s schedule is a bit more hectic. I have to pick up Tim’s prescriptions, canned food from SitStay.com and do my grocery shopping. Winnie has her appointment with Dr. Eddings at 6:15 tomorrow night. I’m so glad she was able to stick it out until tomorrow - the steroid injections should make her much more comfortable during the trip. Not that she’s going to be suffering, mind you. The way I’m imagining things, she’ll be comfortably ensconced on the air bed the whole way, lounging about in comfort, looking out the window as the scenery goes by. I’ll bring lots of her dog beds, too, just in case she’s more comfy on the floor, but I’m betting she’ll end up on the air bed. My little Princess. (Grin)
And then we come to Friday. The night I pick up the RV. The way I have everything laid out, it should take me no longer than an hour or so to pack the RV, and then I’ll be able to relax and watch a movie with Harry before turning in for the night. It will be interesting to look at this entry after the fact and see how it all turns out - best laid plans and all.
A wonderful thing happened to me today! First, you should know, in all the time I’ve worked for the Boss Man, I’ve never been gone two whole weeks. Harry can’t leave the shop for that long (which is part of why I’m taking this trip on my own, after all). So, suffice it to say that the Boss Man has been a bit stressed out. It’s not like we don’t have excellent personnel who fill in when someone’s gone - no, that’s not it at all. They just aren’t me. I know all the Boss Man’s quirks, where he left things, how to find what he’s lost, and I’m one of the few people in the Firm who can read his handwriting (I think of it as “job security"). He’s getting ready to go on a little four-day weekend trip of his own, something he does fairly frequently with three or four other couples. He called me into his office, told me about a couple of things he wanted me to do for him, and then handed me a check, saying, “Here. I won’t be here when you leave, so I wanted to give you something to take with you. Have fun and be safe.” I was struck dumb (speechless, if you want to be nice). I looked at him, my mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water, and he said, “I know. I’m ‘da man.”
What a great guy. I hope he has as much fun on his trip as I’m going to have on mine!
Tomorrow’s schedule is a bit more hectic. I have to pick up Tim’s prescriptions, canned food from SitStay.com and do my grocery shopping. Winnie has her appointment with Dr. Eddings at 6:15 tomorrow night. I’m so glad she was able to stick it out until tomorrow - the steroid injections should make her much more comfortable during the trip. Not that she’s going to be suffering, mind you. The way I’m imagining things, she’ll be comfortably ensconced on the air bed the whole way, lounging about in comfort, looking out the window as the scenery goes by. I’ll bring lots of her dog beds, too, just in case she’s more comfy on the floor, but I’m betting she’ll end up on the air bed. My little Princess. (Grin)
And then we come to Friday. The night I pick up the RV. The way I have everything laid out, it should take me no longer than an hour or so to pack the RV, and then I’ll be able to relax and watch a movie with Harry before turning in for the night. It will be interesting to look at this entry after the fact and see how it all turns out - best laid plans and all.
A wonderful thing happened to me today! First, you should know, in all the time I’ve worked for the Boss Man, I’ve never been gone two whole weeks. Harry can’t leave the shop for that long (which is part of why I’m taking this trip on my own, after all). So, suffice it to say that the Boss Man has been a bit stressed out. It’s not like we don’t have excellent personnel who fill in when someone’s gone - no, that’s not it at all. They just aren’t me. I know all the Boss Man’s quirks, where he left things, how to find what he’s lost, and I’m one of the few people in the Firm who can read his handwriting (I think of it as “job security"). He’s getting ready to go on a little four-day weekend trip of his own, something he does fairly frequently with three or four other couples. He called me into his office, told me about a couple of things he wanted me to do for him, and then handed me a check, saying, “Here. I won’t be here when you leave, so I wanted to give you something to take with you. Have fun and be safe.” I was struck dumb (speechless, if you want to be nice). I looked at him, my mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water, and he said, “I know. I’m ‘da man.”
What a great guy. I hope he has as much fun on his trip as I’m going to have on mine!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Five Days Left - and the Farmer Feet Start Kickin’
If you look at the title of my blog and read the explanation for the name, you’ll understand what’s happening today without even reading the rest of this entry.
This morning I woke up with a full-blown case of second thoughts.
It’s the Farmer Feet, you know. And I expected it. Actually, in truth, I expected it long before now. The Farmer Feet rest quietly while the Gypsy Heart yammers on about traveling, seeing the sights, flying free and soaring high. Then, when they think the Gypsy Heart has gone far enough, they dig in.
I have a vivid image in my mind of a dirt road with two deep ruts, made by the heels of my Farmer Feet being dragged along by my Gypsy Heart.
On the walk with the dogs this morning, whispered thoughts fluttered through my traitorous brain.
“You could just bring the RV home and park it in the driveway.”
“You could do a little tour of Nebraska, instead.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to just stay home and sleep in? Maybe work on a new patio or make something new in the garage instead of going so far away?”
I recognize those whispers for what they are. My Farmer Feet. That part of me that never wants to leave the house, that could be happy planted out in the garden, surrounded by critters, for the rest of my life.
Of course I’m not canceling the trip. The Farmer Feet are just going to have to buck up and deal with it. They’ve had their time in the sun, lounging about in the pool, never going further than that day trip to Ogallala or camping in the Black Hills over a long weekend. They’ve spent hours and hours in the garage, and enjoyed miles of hikes at local reservoirs with the dogs.
It’s the Gypsy Heart’s turn and the Farmer Feet will just have to go along for the ride.
This weekend I put the final touches on packing. I’m using those wonderful “green” grocers’ bags to organize things - one for maps and directions, one for trash and one to collect the things I’m going to be needing in the cab of the RV. The tool box is put together and ready. The camping box is ready. I have a button to sew on some pants and a seam to repair on a pair of shorts, and then I can start packing clothing. I still haven’t gotten my water frozen, so that’s top on my list for tonight (I can sew while watching “Castle,” don’t you know).
I talked to Casey last week, and he confirmed that I could pick the RV up on Friday night instead of Saturday morning. That will make things much easier - I’ll be able to load the RV on Friday night and sleep in on Saturday morning, have a leisurely breakfast with Harry and then take off.
“Right. Like you’re going to sleep at all on Friday night!”
Now I just have to figure out some way to gag a pair of feet.
This morning I woke up with a full-blown case of second thoughts.
It’s the Farmer Feet, you know. And I expected it. Actually, in truth, I expected it long before now. The Farmer Feet rest quietly while the Gypsy Heart yammers on about traveling, seeing the sights, flying free and soaring high. Then, when they think the Gypsy Heart has gone far enough, they dig in.
I have a vivid image in my mind of a dirt road with two deep ruts, made by the heels of my Farmer Feet being dragged along by my Gypsy Heart.
On the walk with the dogs this morning, whispered thoughts fluttered through my traitorous brain.
“You could just bring the RV home and park it in the driveway.”
“You could do a little tour of Nebraska, instead.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to just stay home and sleep in? Maybe work on a new patio or make something new in the garage instead of going so far away?”
I recognize those whispers for what they are. My Farmer Feet. That part of me that never wants to leave the house, that could be happy planted out in the garden, surrounded by critters, for the rest of my life.
Of course I’m not canceling the trip. The Farmer Feet are just going to have to buck up and deal with it. They’ve had their time in the sun, lounging about in the pool, never going further than that day trip to Ogallala or camping in the Black Hills over a long weekend. They’ve spent hours and hours in the garage, and enjoyed miles of hikes at local reservoirs with the dogs.
It’s the Gypsy Heart’s turn and the Farmer Feet will just have to go along for the ride.
This weekend I put the final touches on packing. I’m using those wonderful “green” grocers’ bags to organize things - one for maps and directions, one for trash and one to collect the things I’m going to be needing in the cab of the RV. The tool box is put together and ready. The camping box is ready. I have a button to sew on some pants and a seam to repair on a pair of shorts, and then I can start packing clothing. I still haven’t gotten my water frozen, so that’s top on my list for tonight (I can sew while watching “Castle,” don’t you know).
I talked to Casey last week, and he confirmed that I could pick the RV up on Friday night instead of Saturday morning. That will make things much easier - I’ll be able to load the RV on Friday night and sleep in on Saturday morning, have a leisurely breakfast with Harry and then take off.
“Right. Like you’re going to sleep at all on Friday night!”
Now I just have to figure out some way to gag a pair of feet.
Monday, May 10, 2010
And the Countdown Begins - 12 Days
Oddly enough, the past few weeks have passed without me doing much for the trip. It was only just this past weekend that I was able to shoulder the yoke and get the ball rolling again. Some of that has to do with inertia; some of it has to do with Springtime and everything else that clamors for attention - the lawn needs mowed, shrubs, veggie plants and a tree needed planted - that kind of thing. But time is ticking, and the countdown has begun! Twelve days until this Dog and Ponytail show is on the road!
As I sorted through the Camping Box, I noticed that lots of the stuff that we use for tent camping is just not necessary for RV camping - and, conversely, there are things a person might use when cooking in a microwave that wouldn’t necessarily hold up well over an open flame. (My plastic Tupperware plates, for example). Mom somehow fit an entire set of aluminum pots and pans along with a cast iron skillet into the Camping Box. I’m not going to take those out - who knows if I might want to fry up some onions one evening. (I love caramelized onions. Mmmm.....) But cast iron and aluminum aren’t exactly microwave-safe. I could take some of my stoneware bowls, but since they’re breakable and so heavy (never mind that cast iron skillet), I decided what I needed was Corelle. You know, that very light, hard plastic dinnerware that is nearly unbreakable and works well in the microwave.
I don’t want to sink a lot of capital into this RV trip. When I get my Airstream or Rockwood trailer, then I’ll consider truly stocking it, but for this trip, it's off to the thrift stores. At the very first Goodwill store, I found two Corelle bowls in one pattern, and three bowls in another. Gosh - I didn’t know I was going to have to choose an RV pattern! I chose the set of three; the ones with the blue and green bands around the lip. As I was carrying them out to the car, where the dogs patiently waited, I realized that these bowls were just the right size for my favorite breakfast (oatmeal with peanut butter and chocolate chips) or my favorite lunch (yogurt with nuts), but they would be a little small for what I had planned for dinners. I’d have to extend my search and look for a serving bowl or some such thing.
The dogs greeted me as if I’d been gone for a day and a half, not the fifteen minutes I’d actually been on the hunt. I’d parked next door to the Goodwill, in the parking lot of a business that was closed on Saturdays. When I reached for the doorhandle, all three dogs jockeyed for the best position to greet me: Winnie snaked her head around the back of the driver’s seat, Tim jumped up from snoozing in the passenger seat, and Star stood on the console, hunched over like a vulture. I took my sunglasses off and put the bowls down, and all three dogs enthusiastically licked my face. As I wiped my face and put my sunglasses back on, I noticed a car parked a couple spaces away. Two women were in it, watching me and grinning from ear to ear. Fellow dog lovers! I laughed and waved, and they did too, and then, with the smile still on my face (along with a little bit of dog slobber, I imagine) the dogs and I were on our way again.
I finally found what I was looking for two thrift stores later. No luck finding a serving bowl, but on the off-chance I might find a liquid measure, I cruised the kitchen gadget aisle, and discovered a brand-new Tupperware microwave cooker. I’m sure you’ve seen them - the ugly, tan, hard plastic kind that has a lid that also serves as a dish. Each piece was marked $1.99, but when I got to the register, the clerk decided since it was obviously a set, she’d charge me $1.99 for both pieces. Not bad - three bowls for .79 each and a microwave cooker for $1.99. I think I can afford that.
So, now I’m set to pack up the Camping Box. Now that I’ve taken things like the battery powered lantern, the aluminum coffeepot, the single burner propane stove and its propane canister out of the Camping Box, there’s much more room in there, and I think I’ll utilize that room by packing my dry goods into it. As far as I know, the RV I’ve rented has no rodent problem, but after my visit to the used Airstream, I’m much more aware that such problems may exist; and if I keep all my dry goods, like my oatmeal, peanut butter, rice and such in the Camping Box, I won’t have anything to worry about.
Thanks, Mom!
As I sorted through the Camping Box, I noticed that lots of the stuff that we use for tent camping is just not necessary for RV camping - and, conversely, there are things a person might use when cooking in a microwave that wouldn’t necessarily hold up well over an open flame. (My plastic Tupperware plates, for example). Mom somehow fit an entire set of aluminum pots and pans along with a cast iron skillet into the Camping Box. I’m not going to take those out - who knows if I might want to fry up some onions one evening. (I love caramelized onions. Mmmm.....) But cast iron and aluminum aren’t exactly microwave-safe. I could take some of my stoneware bowls, but since they’re breakable and so heavy (never mind that cast iron skillet), I decided what I needed was Corelle. You know, that very light, hard plastic dinnerware that is nearly unbreakable and works well in the microwave.
I don’t want to sink a lot of capital into this RV trip. When I get my Airstream or Rockwood trailer, then I’ll consider truly stocking it, but for this trip, it's off to the thrift stores. At the very first Goodwill store, I found two Corelle bowls in one pattern, and three bowls in another. Gosh - I didn’t know I was going to have to choose an RV pattern! I chose the set of three; the ones with the blue and green bands around the lip. As I was carrying them out to the car, where the dogs patiently waited, I realized that these bowls were just the right size for my favorite breakfast (oatmeal with peanut butter and chocolate chips) or my favorite lunch (yogurt with nuts), but they would be a little small for what I had planned for dinners. I’d have to extend my search and look for a serving bowl or some such thing.
The dogs greeted me as if I’d been gone for a day and a half, not the fifteen minutes I’d actually been on the hunt. I’d parked next door to the Goodwill, in the parking lot of a business that was closed on Saturdays. When I reached for the doorhandle, all three dogs jockeyed for the best position to greet me: Winnie snaked her head around the back of the driver’s seat, Tim jumped up from snoozing in the passenger seat, and Star stood on the console, hunched over like a vulture. I took my sunglasses off and put the bowls down, and all three dogs enthusiastically licked my face. As I wiped my face and put my sunglasses back on, I noticed a car parked a couple spaces away. Two women were in it, watching me and grinning from ear to ear. Fellow dog lovers! I laughed and waved, and they did too, and then, with the smile still on my face (along with a little bit of dog slobber, I imagine) the dogs and I were on our way again.
I finally found what I was looking for two thrift stores later. No luck finding a serving bowl, but on the off-chance I might find a liquid measure, I cruised the kitchen gadget aisle, and discovered a brand-new Tupperware microwave cooker. I’m sure you’ve seen them - the ugly, tan, hard plastic kind that has a lid that also serves as a dish. Each piece was marked $1.99, but when I got to the register, the clerk decided since it was obviously a set, she’d charge me $1.99 for both pieces. Not bad - three bowls for .79 each and a microwave cooker for $1.99. I think I can afford that.
So, now I’m set to pack up the Camping Box. Now that I’ve taken things like the battery powered lantern, the aluminum coffeepot, the single burner propane stove and its propane canister out of the Camping Box, there’s much more room in there, and I think I’ll utilize that room by packing my dry goods into it. As far as I know, the RV I’ve rented has no rodent problem, but after my visit to the used Airstream, I’m much more aware that such problems may exist; and if I keep all my dry goods, like my oatmeal, peanut butter, rice and such in the Camping Box, I won’t have anything to worry about.
Thanks, Mom!
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