Midwest Gypsy

Recently I was directing an episode of ‘Glee’ and I lost my cell phone–and I didn’t have time to buy another one for three weeks. Well, the first few days I was anxious as hell, suffering delirium tremors, didn’t think I could make it through, etc. Then something kind of curious happened–I began to feel great. -Eric Stoltz

July 3, 2024. Today is the first day of a challenge I have never undertaken, and it’s not by choice. I did something really stupid yesterday: in my zeal to get some sad-looking bushes in the front yard trimmed up, I tossed the cuttings–and my phone–into a fire that was consuming an old tree stump. So, until Saturday at the earliest, I am virtually without a phone. It still works, kind of. I just can’t see half of the screen, and it’s too frustrating to try to deal with. So I’m trying not to use my phone at all.

It’s probably just as well. More and more, I have been forgetting where I take my phone or put it down. I’m also experiencing other age-related things reminding me that a milestone birthday is just around the corner. All things considered, I really didn’t expect to live past 21 much less 70, but here I am. Life is full of surprises. Like this.

In a way, I’m not surprised that I did something as dumb this. Since being here at the house, I’ve been overdoing in a myriad of ways, but they are all things I wanted to do. Wash the windows. Pressure wash the deck. Paint the bathroom. I may have been blessed with an abundance of energy, but it can be a curse sometimes. When I begin to feel overwhelmed and am tempted to complain that my plate is too full, I also have to admit that somewhere along the line, I said “yes.” Maybe this sabbatical from my phone is just what I needed.

Dave’s been awesome. I’m grateful that he didn’t give me a hard time at all, but instead started looking for a replacement right away. He asked me if I could do without a phone for a while. Well, I quit drinking almost thirteen years ago, so I’m guessing that doing without a phone will be easier. But, who knows? I guess we’ll see. Since it’s a first-time event, I’m trying to maintain a positive attitude.

Miraculously, the only damage that’s visible on my phone case is a singed corner, and the phone works in spite of the screen damage. I’m grateful for that! The problem is that I just can’t see very much, making it futile to text or, really, doing anything that requires looking at the screen. It’s very frustrating.

I’m grateful this gives me something to write about, and that we have a laptop so that I don’t have to write about this experience in longhand. If I had to, though, I would. I had many, many handwritten journals going back I-don’t-know-how-many-years in storage, and now that we have a house, the whole collection is here. Someday I’ll have to re-read what all happened years ago. The fact that I wrote about it means it must have been memorable in one way or another, at least, then.

Someone once said that ‘when phones were tied by a wire, humans were free.’ It’s true. I remember those days, when one had to actually BE by the phone to make or accept a call. Actually, the way things are in the world, maybe it’s a blessing that “the news” won’t be at my fingertips. Yet something else to be grateful for!!

That’s why I’m looking at it as an adventure. Who knows WHAT I’ll find to occupy myself instead?! If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the day I end up having all depends on my attitude, and that’s a choice I have to make for myself. So today I choose to have a great day! I’m meeting a new friend who also moved into the area recently for a late breakfast, and this afternoon I’ll get started painting the 10-foot long bookcase here in the living room. Afterwards, we’ll drive Chewy into town like we do every afternoon for a walk around the park. At least, that’s the plan. But given how yesterday went, anything is possible.

One thing’s for sure: Life is never boring. Until next time, bye for now! 😃

April 29, 2024.

Greetings, Friends. I hope all is well in your world. It’s been an unusual month on our end, and I have lots to write about. So many things have happened in a short amount of time. Truly, my head spins when I consider the events of just the past two weeks.

When we pulled out of the RV resort on the 15th, our tow-car was packed to the max (because we anticipated being away from it for about a month), and our bicycles were strapped to the bike rack on the back of it. We covered them with what was a rather heavy-duty cover in an attempt to protect them from the elements (which later proved futile), and because the car’s rear lights were thus hidden, flashing magnetic towing lights signaled our behemoth motorhome lumbering its way from the lake to Branson. With pucker factors of 10++, we pressed on for 31 miles through small towns, past Silver Dollar City and on towards Branson, along a mostly 2-lane, shoulderless road, hoping the flashing hazard lights would soften the attitudes and lengthen the patience of the drivers who were behind us. Both Dave and I were very apprehensive about getting the RV to where it would ultimately be fixed, and were so relieved, and very grateful, when we finally arrived. All in all, it was an uneventful trip, which is the best kind.

We headed east, but before going back to Hopkinsville immediately, we rendezvoused with my brother and sister-in-law in Giant City State Park in southern Illinois for a couple of days. We first learned of the beauty of southern Illinois when we workamped at Crab Orchard Wildlife Refuge, just down the road, many years ago and always try find a reason to come back. It’s a nature-lovers’ paradise. Terri and I hiked most of the trails, and when we were too tired for that, we played cards. Or ate.

While we spent the majority of our time in the park, we still did a bit of exploring. Makanda, pop. 537, is known as Illinois’ most hippie town. It’s quirky and unique, and life there is laidback and peaceful. Most of the time…

Only the week before, this somewhat obscure village and its surroundings were inundated with tens of thousands of visitors who were there to witness the total solar eclipse, just as they did on August 21, 2017. The fact that the two paths of totality crisscrossed directly over this area had many “end times” believers speculating if April 8th was going to perhaps be the end of the world. I’m grateful it was not.

To get to the next tourist attraction, we had to drive by the Smiley Face Water Tower on Highway 51. The bow tie is in memory of U.S. Senator Paul Simon and one-time presidential candidate, a lifelong resident of Makanda.

Next we went to Trip Advisor’s #1 Attraction in the Carbondale-area, Boo Castle Park, formally known as the Jeremy “Boo” Rochman Memorial Park. It’s a 3.5 acre, privately owned park that is open to the general public. A lover of action figures and an avid fan of the role-playing game, Dungeons and Dragons, Jeremy was killed in a tragic car accident in 1993 when he was just 19 years old. His family built the park in his honor, never dreaming that it would become the major tourist attraction that it has. It is fabulous, and well-worth a visit if you’re ever near the area, no matter how old you are.

On the 17th of this month we were back in Kentucky, back at the campground in which we stayed this past winter. Our daughter graciously offered to let us stay in her RV when I complained too much about trying to find an AirBnB that was suitable for the long-haul. If truth be told, we much prefer to be away from town and the peace and quiet that comes with it.

Our temporary home is Kate’s 22′ Airstream Bambi. Today is our 12th day in it, and we are adapting to the close quarters. I think it helps that we once lived on a 27′ sailboat. “Belle” has everything we need: full bathroom…comfy, queen-size bed…stove/microwave…fridge…dinette. The only thing we really wonder about is why the toilet sits atop a 10″ high platform. It’s compact, for sure, but it is totally adequate for for the time being. We’re grateful for having this option and for the experience of ‘trying out’ an Airstream to see what the big deal is all about.

Over the past few months, we’ve been talking about what happens ‘next.’ We never expected RVing to last forever. At least, I didn’t. Come to think of it, much of what’s happened in my life since I met Dave almost 46 years ago has not been expected, much less prepared for. In fact, I’ve almost come to expect the unexpected.

Enter the Round House concept.

We first learned about their structural soundness after our house in Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

I’ve been looking at potential Zillow houses in this general area only half-heartedly because I really didn’t think Dave wanted to buy another house. At least, not at this point in time.

Only a couple of weeks ago, a “possibility” presented itself by way of email. It was in Eddyville, about 30 miles northwest of Hopkinsville. I showed it to Dave, and to my surprise, didn’t shoot the idea down immediately, but said maybe we could take a look at when we got to Kentucky, if it was still available. I let it go at that.

Out of the blue last week, Kate asked if I wanted to see the house. I suggested she ask her dad because an affirmative answer would be more likely then. I was right.

What’s really great about knowing exactly what you want is that the search is shortened considerably. I think we knew within minutes of seeing this particular house that it was “the one.”

Round houses are designed to be wind, hurricane and earthquake resistant, but it’s really the quirkiness of them that we find appealing. Even though it’s small, it’s got everything we need, and then some. Not much has to be done to it initally, and the backyard is large and woodsy. Kayaking is just 10 minutes away, and Kate won’t be far away. It’s perfect.

In a big way, another chapter of our lives is unfolding. It would be easy to get caught up in the future, thinking of all that will need to be done before we leave next month, assuming things continue happening like they have been. It would be easy to forget the in-between moments…life moves so fast. But the little things are very much worth remembering, so I just try very hard to keep my feet firmly planted in today. God’s in charge anyway, so I’m just along for the ride. It looks like it’s about to get exciting.

Don’t waste your time searching and wishing. Grow and be ready…and you’ll see God will give you a love story far better than you can ever dream of. ~ Gordon B. Hinckley

February 14, 2024. It’s been a very grueling past few days; we made the hard decision to put down our 18-year-old fur baby, Victor. He had had the best life ever, having gotten to travel all over the country and having gotten spoiled beyond measure. When he turned 18 last June, we began giving him anything he wanted to eat because why not? The last three years had been really hard on him, though, and the once-rambunctuous chihuahua had become very debilitated…doggie dementia, arthritis and a tumor on his tail that had been operated on twice had finally taken their toll. The tumor returned in earnest about a year ago and had recently grown to the point where I was afraid it would burst. When it began to bleed on Friday, I knew in my heart what was imminent, and it wasn’t going to be surgery. I just didn’t want to put Victor through that again.

By Monday afternoon we were on our way to West Kentucky Veterinary Hospital, our vet when we lived here. They still had his records. We’d come to the hardest part about being a pet owner, so when our daughter offered to meet us there, I welcomed the support. She was with me on the day when I adopted Victor from the humane society here in 2006, and now she was with me on his last. I’ve been through this experience several times before, and it doesn’t get easier. In fact, this time was the absolute worst because it was Victor. He was more than just a dog; to us, he was our child.

Victor, the spoiled pup who got to eat anything he wanted (within reason), gorged on chocolate chip cookies and Reese’s peanut butter cups as his last meal. Everyone at the veterinary hospital involved was so compassionate, the process wasn’t at all rushed, and Victor was in my arms when he took his last breath. That was less than 48 hours ago.

When I woke up at 2:34 a.m. this morning, I already had seven hours of sleep. Victor has gotten us in the habit of going to bed around 7:30, so I was well rested. I knitted and drank coffee. I listened to the next lesson in my Bible study. Around 6 a.m. I started making bacon roses for Dave like I do every Valentines Day. Out of nowhere, a wave of sorrow suddenly washed over me and I began crying hard. I missed Victor so much, and even though I knew the right decision had been made, I needed reassurance.

I cried out loud while I sobbed and asked God to give me a sign that Victor was okay. And for good measure, I added “in Jesus’ name” because Jesus himself said, “that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it to you.”(John 16:23) I wasn’t testing God; I knew He’d come through. I just didn’t know when. I would just have to be watchful.

The smell of bacon baking wafting back into the bedroom woke Dave up. Sunrise had begun by this time and I wandered up towards the front of the motorhome to see if it was colorful enough to bother photographing; sometimes it is. I happened to look down at my collection of ducks that were lined up on the dashboard. Or at least they had been lined up all in a row. But they weren’t now. When I asked him if he’d done anything with the ducks, Dave said ‘no.’ And there’s no one else who could have, or would have.

Is that odd, or is that God?

I know what I believe. There’s no doubt in my mind that was the sign I’d asked God for. Especially given the sense of peace and comfort I immediately felt, I’d gotten all the reassurance I could have ever asked for. What an awesome God He is!

My husband, who’s on the fence when it comes to believing in God, is now rethinking his stand. I don’t blame him; the sign was obvious, though, even to him. Some things just can’t be denied.

The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. ~Psalm 145:18

January 3, 2024

Happy New Year, still. I hope this finds you well and content, wherever you may be, and I pray that 2024 is a very good year for all of us.

We just returned to Hopkinsville yesterday after spending nine glorious days on the Gulf coast in Gulf Shores, Alabama. I’ve always known that ‘water’ somehow factored into my overall well-being, and I’ve been eagerly looking forward to this respite from reality (spending the winter somewhere cold instead of going south like we planned) for quite some time. There’s just something about being by the water that’s good for one’s soul. It’s revitalizing.

This was the first time we ever visited Gulf Shores, though there were a couple of times that we actually lived along the Gulf Coast, not too far from here–in a house–Pensacola/Gulf Breeze, FL (1985-91) and Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi (2004-05). We even lived in Alabama for a little while, too (Dothan, 1981-85), and drove down to Destin and Navarre (pre-development) whenever we could. I couldn’t help but think, as we drove past multi-million dollar homes along the parkway, “What if we still lived there? What if Dave hadn’t taken that job in San Diego? What if Hurricane Katrina hadn’t happened and our house wasn’t destoryed? In essense, I was questioning the past and indulging in a bit of self-flaeggelation along the way. Ouch. But one can’t help but wonder when one “goes back” to someplace one once lived. That’s just human nature.

Gulf State Park was the site of our holiday gathering–us in the campground and the kids in one of the cabins. Both places were impressive.

The campground is huge! but amazingly, not Alabama’s biggest state park; that would be Oak Mountain, further north on I-65. But here at GSP, there are 496 full hook-up sites on concrete pads. Spacious and clean. Less than two miles from the beach, with 28 miles of biking and hiking trails. Facilities include a camp store, laundry facility, pool, tennis and pickleball courts, a nature center (with lots of planned events), an activities building, and probably more that I didn’t see. There are four restaurants in the park, some beachfront. The campground was packed the five days we were there, and it was hard to believe that this was the OFF-season.

Eagle Cottages, where the kids stayed, are situated along Lake Shelby within the park. There are eleven 3-bedroom/3-bath units, and all were completely decorated for Christmas, including evergreen garlands, lights, and Christmas tree. Two screened-in porches and another one off to the side made the cabin seem even bigger. All in all, everyone loved their accomodations.

We only went out to eat once during the five days that the kids were down, relying on already-cooked meals from Publix to satisfy our appetites, so as not to shackle any one person to the galley. There was only one snafu: I’d ordered the already-baked turkey breast meal, including all the fixings, to be picked up on Christmas Eve, that I figured we’d eat either that evening or on Christmas Day. I probably won’t do that again; the store was SO crowded! We waited in line for more than half an hour before working our way up in the queue to be helped. I felt sorry for the harried assistant deli manager; it seemed like everyone wanted her attention that day.

I didn’t think much about it when she pulled our order out of the massive refrigerator behind the deli counter. It was only when we got it back to the kids’ cabin that we discovered that the bird was frozen through and through. There was no way we’d be eating turkey that day, or the day after, and maybe even the day after. I felt sick. It took days for me to put together the perfect Christmas dinner and then to order it online (challenging in and of itself), and now it seemed all my planning was for naught.

Kate called the store right away and explained the situation to the customer service person who, no doubt, was horrified at the thought of a frozen Christmas bird being given to a customer on Christmas Eve. Back to the Publix we went, where we were greeted cheerfully, yet cautiously, by the assistant deli manager, replacement Boar’s Head turkey in hand. I’m sure she was pleasantly surprised that we weren’t angry or otherwise put out by the situation…no doubt she had her fill of irate customers over the past day or so. Behind her came a young man, who turned out to be the store manager, with two pies in his hands for us, to compensate us ‘for our bother’ and probably hoping I wouldn’t write a scathing review online. By this time the crowd had really thinned out, and I was just grateful that everything worked out. And all in all, all of the food was great. It definitely beat going out to eat all the time.

We went bowling on Christmas Eve and to the beach on Christmas Day, and I can’t think of a better holiday than that.

They all had to go back to Kentucky on Thursday, but we wanted to savor our time in Gulf Shores…it took us long enough to get there and who knows if we’d ever come back? Someone was scheduled to come into our site at the state park, so we scrambled to find something along the coast, preferably not too far away. We tried going to Bay Saint Louis, but the rate at the Silver Slipper Casino was $100/night, and that wasn’t even on the water.

As luck would have it, there was a spot available for four nights at Fort Morgan RV Park, only 13 miles from where we were at GSP. It was a terrific discovery! It’s a very small park with a variety of sites, both large and small. Maneuvering a large trailer or 5th wheel might be a challenge, but parking the motorhome was easy. The location was perfect: far enough away from the Gulf Shores crowd (which picked up considerably at the start of the New Year’s Eve holiday weekend), but close to things like a couple of good restaurants (pizza, Cajun shrimp boils) and just minutes away from the Mobile Bay Ferry, which turned out to be an adventure in itself!

The ferry transports cars, trucks, small campers and RV’s (less than 20′) and passengers to Dauphin Island, and provides fantastic views of both Fort Gaines and Fort Morgan, two historic forts that have long guarded the entrance of Mobile Bay. The fare depends on the type of vehicle, number of passengers, and season. It cost us $27 to go to Dauphin Island and $15 to return (receipt needed.) The ferry operates on a first-come, first-served basis, and monitoring its Facebook page is important so that you don’t chance getting a spot on the return passage. If you do miss the boat, it’s about a three-hour drive back to Fort Morgan.

Once on the island, we drove west until we couldn’t anymore and walked on the beach that seemed to go on forever. We also found Indian Shell Mound Park, with mounds estimated to date back to the Mississippian Era between 900 and 1500 B.C. There are huge palmetto palms and, among the enormous moss-draped oaks, one tree reputed to be more than 8 centuries old! We also found Skinner’s Seafood, had one of the BEST Cajun boils ever, and learned what Royal Reds are (shrimp caught in very deep, icy cold waters…taste like lobster.) 😋

Nine days never went by faster, and if it’s any indication, everybody wants to do it again next Christmas. So that’s a good thing, because family get-togethers can go either way. 😉

So here we are, back in Hopkinsville, with no particular travel plans in the foreseeable future. Although I complain about being cold, I really am glad to be closer to family. I’m grateful to have friends here, too, and have even had some lunch dates, with more to come, now that the holidays have passed. I have a couple of ‘goals’: 1) is to learn how to knit a cap now that I can do a scarf, and 2) is to listen to an audio book that’s been on the back burner for way too long (The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis).

For almost a year I’ve been a part of a group of women who meet weekly with the purpose of enriching our spiritual lives through Bible study, discussion and prayer. It’s an interesting mix of believers; one or two seem to know the Bible inside and out, most go to regular services, and then there’s me. A workamper at our resort started it in the fall of 2022, but within weeks everyone went their separate ways for the winter. A few of us revived it last spring when we returned to the resort but, being travelers, having “in person” meetings was hit-and-miss, at best, even though we all wanted the group to continue.

The group branched out to include some friends who just wanted to join. Somewhere along the line, I found myself volunteering to get a Zoom account and host the weekly gatherings, and that’s the way we’ve been connected ever since. It is so uplifting to get together for 30-40 minutes every Tuesday with likeminded women from all over the country who are on the same page when it comes to God.

I suppose it’s through osmosis that my faith has been strengthened to the point where I can’t fathom, much less understand, how people can not believe in God, especially in the times in which we live. Delving more into the Bible has unearthed a reality I never really understood, or wanted to, and it’s amazing! Having left organized religion decades ago, my change of heart is a miracle, for which I welcome and am so grateful! It gives me hope for the future and belief that the best is yet to come. Happy, Happy New Year, Friends!

August 26, 2023. It’s been a while since I’ve written because we have had a low-key summer for the most part and haven’t done much traveling to speak of. This blog isn’t about going anywhere but about how fast things can happen unexpectedly. As if summer hasn’t gone by fast enough, the past month has passed by even faster. In early July, we semi-began to consider the possibility of getting a different lot here at Ozarks RV Resort…not that we didn’t like the lot we had. We did. Lot 37 is a corner lot, very nice and one of the biggest (if not the biggest) lots here. It is a huge lot, more than just the two of us needed.

Anyway, I had asked Dave previously if he’d be willing to be open to the possibility of a different lot if it had everything we wanted, to include an outdoor kitchen and a waterview. We spend a lot of time outside. At this point, we don’t have an exit plan regarding the RV. God willing, our hope is to spend a few more years RVing, or at least, continue living in the motorhome, until we can’t anymore. I guess. I don’t know. Who does, really? But “here” seems to suit us, in the middle of nowhere and yet not too far from civilization. If we were to get a different lot, it would be the end all.

Well, we dropped Felix, our motorhome, off at Cummings Diesel in Springfield on Monday, July 10th, for routine maintenance and headed up to St. Louis to visit my brother and sister-in-law for a couple of days. Along the way we talked about a waterfront lot at the resort we’d seen a couple of times and decided to inquire further. Dave called the seller and was told that he only wanted to sell it for five years, at which time he would buy it back. Good luck with that! Obviously, that conversation didn’t go very far, and it has since been fun to relate to others, just to see their reactions.

Two days later, on Wednesday the 12th, we drove back from St. Louis to Springfield (3 hours+, including stops for Victor and naturally, Uranus) to retrieve Felix. Midway during the 60-mile drive back to the resort I noticed a crack in the windshield. It was large enough that I probably would have noticed it earlier if I’d been sitting in the passenger seat. But I was sitting on the couch behind the driver’s seat for most of the ride, dealing with Victor, who was tired of being in the car all day and very hangry, and didn’t see it until I switched seats. We were glad when we finally got home in one piece. Literally.

The next day, Thursday, July 13th, I walked across the street to visit a friend who’d just gotten home from a stay in the hospital. Just to see her reaction, I told her about the guy who wanted to sell his lot for five years. It was not what I expected. She announed that she and her husband had decided that very day to sell their lot and their RV because they were buying a house in Mountain Home. Their lot was exactly what we had in mind, and even had a little fenced-off area for Victor. Next thing I knew, we’d agreed to purchase their lot. Less than a week later, we had a buyer for ours.

So, here it is, one month later, August 12th, and we’re sitting on our new lot, #119. The funny/not funny thing about the cracked windshield–which happened exactly one month ago today- -is that it kept us from leaving on August 2nd as planned, and making the trip to Aubun, Alabama to see our daughter graduate, something we’d made reservations for months ahead of time. It was so disappointing, but thankfully we were able to watch the ceremony online. One month later and the windshield still hasn’t been replaced! Don’t even get me started on Progressive insurance and the multiple “representatives” assigned to our claim; that’s another story. BUT, all things considered, it was a blessing that we were here and not somewhere else.