Williamstown and Petersburg, Kentucky

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My husband and I have been in western Kentucky for almost two weeks helping our daughter, a single-mom with a lot on her plate: two teenagers, her own business and graduate school, just to name a few. While she’s taking our grandson to where his travel baseball team has to be, we are here with our granddaughter, who has her own schedule of activities and has to be shuttled here and there. We’re happy to do it, especially since we used to live here, too. It’s a familiar place.

Travel ball is intense. The season is short–less than two months–so there’s a multi-day tournament every weekend, sometimes hundreds of miles away. When our daughter and grandson came home last Friday for a few days in between tournaments, Dave and I decided to get out of town and give them their space. There’s an old saying I believe to be true: Fish and company go bad after three days. The last thing I want to be is a bother and besides, there’s is still so much of this wonderful world I have not seen.

The Ark Encounter is a place I’ve been wanting to experience for quite some time, and I’ve been pondering why. As I’ve said before in a previous blog, I’m not religious, but I do believe that every word in the Bible is true, and I’ve never questioned the story of Noah building the ark. I just couldn’t fathom it. So maybe it came down to the fact that I’m from Missouri, the Show Me state, and I needed to be shown. What surprised me is that my husband was all for it, even though he’s agnostic. Or at least, that what he says.

Williamstown is north of Lexington and south of Cincinnati, a 4-hour drive and one time zone away from Hopkinsville. I figured we’d get there too late to see the Ark Encounter Saturday, so once we got settled into our hotel room, I got on their website to buy our tickets. I’m glad I did. From our hotel room the next day, I saw cars lined up to enter the Ark’s parking lot more than an hour before it opened at 1:00 p.m. Dads got free admission since it was Father’s Day and there were a lot of dads there with their families. I couldn’t get over the size of the crowd. It was like a Trump rally…way more people than you could ever imagine, and even though there were a lot of people, they were considerate and well-behaved. The people-watching was great! In one of our conversations afterwards, Dave and I talked about the massive crowd and wondered how many were real believers and how many were there, searching for some kind of hope for a fallen world. That would be an interesting survey.

Mere words cannot come close to describing the Ark. Even before I went, I knew I’d want to write about the experience. But here it is, four days later, and I’m still trying to digest everything. There was so much to see and so much information to read. Everything about it was overwhelming at the time, and like trying to drink water out of a firehose. The displays and exhibits were phenomenal, but it was the sheer architectural structure that was the highlight.

The world’s largest free-standing timber-frame structure, the Ark is more than 500 feet in length (for comparison, a football field is 360 feet), 75 feet wide and 45 feet high. Its bow–designed to obstruct wind and prevent capsizing–is 104 feet tall, and the stern is 80 feet tall. Some people claim the bow and stern are inaccurate or mislabled, but they don’t understand the purpose of Noah’s ark.

The ark was meant to withstand very rough seas and preserve life during a global flood. It was a lifesaving vessel, and much like Moses’ basket, it was built for protection, not navigation. There was no need to navigate–the entire world was covered with water.

There are three decks of informative exhibits and displays, so a lot of walking is required. The first deck was filled with animal cages of various sizes, clay pots and burlap bags used to store food and water, and everything needed to rebuild life all over again: tools, seeds, plants.

The exhibits on the second deck were fantastic, especially the Animal Care exhibit. Given that there were approximately 1,398 animals (based on researchers’ findings) and only Noah, his wife, their three sons and their wives to care for them, the exhibit offers a possible explanation as to how this might have been done.

The architecture was magnificent. Engelmann spruce logs, more than 3 feet in diameter, were used to support the massive internal structure. The ark’s integrity needed to withstand the violent storms, waves and hurricane-like conditions. Could Noah have built something such as this? Considering he was more than 500 years old when he fathered his first child, Noah probably had a lot of knowledge and expertise. He may have hired help to build the ark; they may not have believed in Noah’s cause, but that wouldn’t have prevented someone from working for pay.

The third deck had more exhibits related to the flood and its effect on our world. Some had very interesting comparisons between the evolutionary and biblical worldviews. Questions relative to the ice age that resulted from the unique conditions created by the flood were presented and addressed. By this time my eyes were crossed from all the reading and the the enormity of the experience. We decided to call it a day after about 4 hours and come back the next. We had purchased the 3-day Bouncer Pass, so we weren’t in a hurry. Besides, we left Victor in the hotel room and needed to get back to him.

It was pouring down rain the next morning when we went to the Creation Museum, the sister-attraction to the Ark, and actually built several years before. I was grateful we both had packed jeans, given the rain and the cold front that followed, and that there was an umbrella tucked away in the car. I had zero expectations for this place because I didn’t even know of its existence until we went to the Ark. But, oh my! The world must have been truly exquisite in the beginning.

The Creation Museum brings the history of the Bible to life. It is designed to show geological, biological, astronomical and anthropological evidence that’s foundational to the Bible. Throughout the museum, both Biblical (God’s word) and naturalistic (man’s word) are presented side-by-side. I think that really made an impression with Dave. Creation and evolution are presented; the former as being based in the Bible, the latter based on man’s interpretation of some source. People can make their own choice as to what to believe.

Naturalistic evolution tries to explain everything without God. Creationists and evolutionists share the same data, study the same fossils, trees and stars. Creationists believe the world is about 6,000 years old, and evolutionists believe it’s millions of years old. Because the starting points are different, the conclusions are, too.

Like the Ark, the Creation Museum is a wealth of information on a variety of subjects, and it’s a lot to take in. I am so glad we got the $3 guidebook for each museum. The Monday crowd wasn’t as large as Sunday’s, but there were a lot of people at the Creation Museum anyway. After all the walking we did at the Ark, we got tired after just a couple of hours of being here and decided to head back to the hotel, rest a bit and then go back to the Ark. We still had the third floor to explore, and we were leaving the next day. So, we just saw a short 3-D movie, wandered around past the exhibits and took in the lush outdoor (albeit, soaked) sites before making the long walk from the museum through the gardens and then on to the parking lot. And it was still raining.

By the time we drove back to the Ark it was early afternoon and the rain had subsided. What a difference a few hours made in the amount of cars in the parking lot and number of visitors! We were behind a group that had need to use the elevator, and our ears perked up when we heard that! After all the walking we had already done, taking an elevator up to the third floor sounded like music to our ears. We asked the group if we could tag along with them in the elevator, and they obliged.

We picked up where we left off the day before and took in more information about the aftermath of the great flood: the ensuing ice age, Babel and the origin of our language families, the Rainbow Covenant, and an exhibit on various doors mentioned in the Bible: the Passover door, temple doors, the sheep’s door, the tomb’s door, the narrow door and last, but certainly not least, the Ark door. The series of doors highlights Biblical history, and each door symbolizes a form of salvation. In the case of the Ark door, God sealed the door shut after Noah and his family brought in all the animals, proving His mercy and justice. The wicked world was outside and everything in it would perish, but Noah’s family was saved.

On the drive back to Hopkinsville Tuesday, we remarked more than once that we were really glad that we had taken this trip. Both the Ark and the Creation Museum are fantastic theme parks, and both of us would love to return some day and see what we missed because there was a lot that we didn’t see. But what we did see deepened my understanding of the Bible and history, answered some questions and posed a few others. It really was an incredible experience.

Journey of a Different Kind

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Ever since we bought our own RV lot here on Table Rock Lake a couple of years ago, our travels for the most part have been curtailed and limited to going to Texas in the winter and settling someplace there for a few months. We don’t gallivant like we used to–in the motorhome, anyway–and besides, it’s kind of hard to leave this beautiful place, what with the lake and all the activities and entertainment that define Branson. This is our seventh year of full-time RVing, and I’m finding that we’re wandering less and staying longer at places when we do. We are getting older.

Early into our stay in Rockport this past winter, I was divinely directed to go to the weekly Bible study at the park (I know, me!) partly, I guess, because I wanted to meet new people and partly because everything in this world is so upside down, I believe only God can straighten things out. I can barely believe that this is me writing these words. I’m the first to admit that something has come over me. What that something is exactly, I don’t know, but within the past three years, I have had a complete attitude shift regarding the Bible, prayer, and God.

I find this all very funny and quite interesting because I am not the Bible-study kind of person at all. I don’t even go to church. But something prompted me to participate in quite a few of those weekly sessions in Rockport, and I’ve got to admit, I rather enjoyed it. The group of more than a dozen people was welcoming, the leader was always prepared, and I learned some things.

When we arrived home in April, there weren’t that many RVs at the resort. Spring in the Ozarks can be unpredictable and snow isn’t unusual, so many owners wait until May to come back. But two acquaintances that I’d met last fall were already here, probably because snow isn’t an issue for them; one’s from Minnesota and the other from Colorado. One afternoon we got together and talked about where we’d gone and what each of us had done during the winter, and had such a good time talking and sharing and connecting and laughing that before I knew it, we were talking about resurrecting the prayer group (the one where we’d originally met) that a friend started last fall. The group met about three times before everyone left for the winter, including the one who started the group. She was a workamper who’s since moved on to another opportunity, so our group was without a ringleader.

I’m sure by now you can guess what happened. Not only has the prayer group been resurrected, but I made an account for us on Zoom so that even when we travel, we can still “meet.” Because I’m the one that signed up for the account, I am responsible for kicking off the meeting every week, no matter where I am. God’s going to make sure I’m there one way or another.

We’ve had seven such gatherings since, and each week new people come, both in-person and online. God is truly orchestrating this because I sure don’t know what I’m doing and feel completely inadequate and unworthy. But each week on Tuesdays, He makes it happen. It’s really been something to witness and behold the way everything is unfolding and evolving. To be honest, I can’t believe it.

Such is the journey I’m on today. Yes, there are actual road trips planned for the coming weeks, but it was important for me to write about now because this has been quite a trip, too. I’m finding that it’s very possible to have an adventure without ever having to leave home.

Long time, no say

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Life in general has kept me from writing for a few months. For a while I kept up with my daily gratitude blog, but even that fell into the cracks a couple of weeks ago. I recently happened upon an RV bloggers Facebook group that seemed worthwhile joining, and I’m grateful for that–it was just the sparkplug I needed and came at just the right time. It’s great to be back writing!

A big part of why I stopped writing was the experience of losing a beloved pet while traveling. It was an unspoken fear that I kept hidden in the back of my mind for at least a year or two, since both of our pups were seniors, such as ourselves. When someone would comment on the advanced ages of our pups, I’d say that we were just walking one another Home. It’s the truth; the older we get, well, the closer it gets to the inevitable.

Our pups, Biscuit and Victor

Biscuit was 14, a rescue, and a love. She loved everybody and assumed everyone loved her. And they did. She was Dave’s girl (his words, not mine) and he treated her royally. As in, cooking breakfast for her every morning and bestowing treats generously and unnecessarily. As for me, Biscuit was my walking buddy. When we workamped in Virginia, she and I hiked the trails every morning. She loved being off the leash and being able to investigate some new smell every once in a while and then race to catch up with me.

She came to us by way of someone, we think, who might have bred dogs for hunting. We’d been inside an antique shop in Fordyce, Arkansas when we heard commotion outside and went to investigate the matter. What we saw was a tiny pup wandeing around aimlessly in the street, apparently having been tossed out of a truck we saw driving away. There must be a way to determine if a dog will be a good hunter, and Biscuit must have failed the test miserably because she was definitely not a hunting dog. She did not like noise; even rain and especially thunder scared her. But she was the best pup.

While we were in Rockport, Texas this past winter, a lump we’d already had removed twice before had resurfaced. Dave talked about making an appointment with our vet in Arkansas when we got home, but I wasn’t keen about having her go through another surgery. Aside from the lump, her back legs often gave her trouble to where she couldn’t get herself up, so that was another matter. So often I’d have to pick all 40 pounds of her up and carry her outside to do her duty and then carry her back in. She’d been on pain meds for several years, but life had become a struggle anyway. Basically, Biscuit was fading quickly, and I silently wondered if she’d even make the trip back home. We were due to leave March 31st, a Friday.

That Monday found me outside cleaning outdoor items in preparation for storage and travel. Our neighbor across the street wandered over and, before I knew it, began telling me about having to put down his pup that very morning. I knew she’d been very sick and he’d been talking about euthanasia for at least a month. I just wasn’t prepared for it happening today. In his grief, my friend told me the exact process. The Rockport Veterinary Clinic was recommended to him, and from the sound of it, his experience was about as good as an experience like that could be. It impressed me that he said that the staff was sensitive and compassionate and that there was a nice, big field for pups to wander while they waited to be seen by the vet. After he left, I went inside for lunch and gave Dave the details. I didn’t know what he’d do with the information, but Biscuit was his dog and he needed to make the decision.

Much to my surprise, he called the veterinary clinic as soon as they re-opened after lunch and told them about Biscuit and that we had decided that we wanted to relieve her of her pain. Permanently. They said to come down and put Biscuit’s name on the list (they saw all their patients this way); the clinic operated on a first-come-first-served basis. Once there and on the wait list, we sat in silence in the car with Biscuit. Soon a vet tech came to the car and asked the necessary questions as sensitively as imaginable; what our neighbor had commented about the entire staff’s empathetic attitude was 100% true. The veterinary clinic was even able to cremate remains, so we picked out the urn we wanted for Biscuit. The ordeal was painful and painless at the same time. And surreal and emotionally draining. Then I took Biscuit outside so that she could lay in the cool grass. As I sat there with her I pondered our decision and knew in my heart it was the right thing to do…So why was it breaking?

After waiting about two-and-a-half hours, another tech came out to the car and said that it was time. Like so many times before, I hoisted Biscuit’s rear up so that she could stand and we slowly made our way to the building. It seemed to take a long time getting Biscuit to walk there, but the tech was understanding and said that it was ok, there was no rush. Once inside, she was weighed and we were ushered into a room. We didn’t have to wait long. The vet came in, introduced himself as Dr. Miller, and in a kind manner told us what would happen from then on: a sedative would be given first, and then the seizure medication, pentobarbital. This was one of the saddest days of my life, and yet the process of going through it was unfolding as perfectly as could be imagined. We stayed with Biscuit for several minutes after she passed, holding hands and just sobbing over her. The day had been so emotionally draining.

Late the next afternoon, we got a call saying that Biscuit’s remains were ready to be picked up. I was so happy! When we arrived there, we were treated as compassionately then as we were the day before, making the entire ordeal much easier to bear. We got to take Biscuit back home; she was in the urn we’d chosen with the puppy print on the lid. A sympathy card with Biscuit’s paw print was signed by the entire staff there. It was very touching. I can’t say enough good things about Rockport Veterinary Clinic. It certainly seemed that they had this particular process down to a science, and what a boon for travelers, of which there are many of us Winter Texans with senior pets.

The surrealness of this event lasted for days. We continued to prepare to leave, but our minds were clearly on Biscuit and ordinary procedures for departure were bungled. Like driving away with the electrical cord still connected to the post; that’s never happened to us in 18 years of RVing. In the three days it took us to drive home, we commented more than once that “Biscuit wouldn’t have liked this,” especially when we’d hit a pothole or when we encountered a thunderstorm in Durant, Oklahoma. Somehow, just talking about Biscuit soothed my aching heart. As does writing about her, I’m finding out.

If ever we doubted our decision, it was confirmed while it still was raining in Durant that one afternoon. I was inside the motorhome when I noticed the sun shining brightly, in spite of the rain. I wondered if there might be a rainbow, and lo and behold: Not one, but two! I knew right then and there that Biscuit was running and playing and having a grand time just across the Rainbow Bridge.

Going Coastal

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Is it really the end of January already??! It’s hard to believe is that we’ve already reached the halfway point of our time in Texas. Seems like we just got here, “here” being Rockport, near Corpus Christi on the Gulf coast.

For the first winter in six years, we did not go back to Bandera, even though we really loved the town, the RV park we always stayed at, and especially the friends we made there. But I sense our traveling days are slowly winding down, and being such, this winter was a good time to do something different. There’s so much of this beautiful USA that we haven’t seen yet.

By the time we figured out that we wanted to return to Texas instead of Mississippi as we originally had planned, it was already September. When it comes to securing a site long-term, that’s considered ‘late.’ We really didn’t have a specific destination in mind. The main goal was to be warm. Rather than call one RV park after another to inquire about availability for the months of January, February and March, the hardest to get, I began by first calling the place I knew some friends had booked for the winter. It was near Rockport. I knew they’d gone from one park to the next, looking for just the right place. We figured, if it was good enough for them, it would be good enough for us.

As luck would have it, there was not only availability for all that time, but they could put us right next to our friends. I hoped that would be a pleasant surprise for them. Lee and Rose were our very first neighbors the first year we went to Bandera and, by and large, the four of us get along great. They are from Duluth, Minnesota, as are many of the people staying here. We really like the park they chose, and the longer we’re here, the more we like it, especially when we drive past other RV parks and compare. Wide, grassy spaces lie in between the sites, paved roads, and lots of oak trees characterize Drifters RV Resort. It’s not too big. There are planned activities (dance lessons, games, Bible studies, ladies’ luncheons). The location is great; it’s about the same distance to the ferry that takes goes to Port A (Port Aransas), the town of Aransas Pass, and Rockport. There’s a Dollar General within walking distance and one of the best hamburger joints in Texas right next door, according to Texas Monthly.

We spent a month in Rockport the winter of 2016, but even before that we were familiar with this area. We lived nearby, in Port Aransas, in 1994 when Dave worked at NAS Corpus Christi. We lived aboard our boat with our two kids, who were 10 and 12 at the time. There have been a lot of changes since then as anyone can imagine, but one thing hasn’t changed in all that time. The wind. And how it can blow incessently. All. Day. Long.

I will always remember the winter that year being the coldest I’d ever been. The combination of damp, salty air and long, lingering gusts chilled one right down to the bone. So, it’s a good thing we knew what we were getting into when we decided to winter here, because it can be quite a surprise otherwise. There’s an old adage that goes something like,You can’t change the direction of the wind, but you can adjust your sails. Meaning, change what you can. Like your attitude. So I bought a new kite!

We brought our bikes with us, and when it’s warm and not real windy we load them on the bike rack and drive six miles to Rockport Beach. It’s a really nice one; in fact, it’s Texas’ first Blue Wave Beach. I thought about bringing my kayak, but I remembered how windy it gets here and had visions of being helplessly blown out to sea, leaving Dave with no way to retrieve me. While it might be kind of funny in a way and would certainly be interesting to write about, assuming I survived, I doubt it would be worth the risk.

One of the reasons we keep coming back to Texas is that all tourists, and particularly long-term visitors, are genuinely wanted and appreciated by the locals. It was like that in Bandera, and here it’s the same way. Earlier this month, the Rockport-Fulton Chamber of Commerce held a party for us winter Texans in recognition of the big boost we snowbirds give the local economy. There were freebies, food, raffles, prizes, entertainment, so you can just picture how packed the convention center was. I’d not seen that many jolly old people in one place since we left Branson! It was a really nice show of appreciation.

We’re finding out there is a price to be paid for being this close to the coast: Rust! We hadn’t been here two weeks when Dave noticed a couple of our our lawn chairs being eaten up by the salt air. He found something called Rust Reformer by Rustoleum that basically stops the rust from going farther. Removing the fabric from the frames was actually more time-consuming than brushing on the Rust Reformer, and once it was applied, it took longer than expected to dry. But it eventually did, and ended up looking quite decent. I wish I’d taken before-and-after photos, but I never think to take pictures of things that are ugly, like rust.

On the plus-side though, is that Dave’s sinuses are much happier here. He’s allergic to cedar trees, of which there are many in the Hill Country. So this is a very big ‘plus., and definitely worth considering when making future plans. People are much easier to be around when their heads aren’t about to explode.😉

Island Holiday

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If we make it through December, everything’s gonna be alright, I know; it’s the coldest time of winter and I shiver when I see the falling snow. – Merle Haggard

Hello again~Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas wishes from South Padre Island, Texas! May peace, love, and happiness be yours this Christmas, as well as warmth, uninterrupted electricity, water pipes that don’t freeze up, and safe journeys wherever you may go.

We remained in the Ozarks longer than anticipated and didn’t head south until earlier this month. Since our winter reservations didn’t start until January 1st, we had almost four weeks to meander. I use the All Stays app to plan our trips, and I found something that looked appealing 750 miles away in Edna, Texas (southwest of Houston): Brackenridge Recreation Complex. It was near a lake and had several bike trails. What a find, and a real blessing to secure a 2-week stay, considering reservations weren’t made until the week after Thanksgiving!

Our campsite was one of the most spacious ones here, both in length (at least 70′) and lots of grass on either side, which the pups loved. Most of the other sites were 45’ long. One of the bike trails ran right behind our site, and then Lake Texana was just beyond that. The campground is a wildlife preserve, and deer are everywhere. The campground is gated, and there is 24-hour security. Also there are 2-bedroom, lakeside cabins that may be rented, as well as The Main Event Center, where rodeos, festivals, fairs and auctions are held. The town of Edna is about 5 miles away, where there’s a nice, pedestrian-friendly town square and a few stores, including an older HEB. Victoria is about 30 miles away, and has everything, including Aldi (my most favorite grocery store) and lots of shops and restaurants.

Lakeside bike trail, one of several here & across the street at Texana Park (more campsites!)
Coded gate
The deer know they’re safe here.
Inside the Main Event Center, where a bull-judging contest was held the first weekend we were here.

From there we drove another 250 miles south to the Valley (Lower Rio Grande Valley) for a couple of days and visited some friends we’ve known since we first went to Bandera five years ago. Priscilla and I were walking buddies there, but I haven’t seen her for a couple of years. We’ve never explored that part of Texas, so we had no expectations and everything was new to us.

The first thing to catch my attention as we drove along the highway was palm trees, and lots of them.

Palm trees in the winter…a very welcome sight!

Seeing that part of the country was very eye-opening. I have never seen that many RV and mobile home parks concentrated in a relatively small area, many with hundreds of sites. Obviously, many, many winter Texans flock to the Rio Grande Valley, and it gave us something to consider for next year.

While we were there, our friends took us to Mexico by way of the U.S. border crossing at Progresso, less than 10 miles way. We were that far south. I didn’t take any photos since I didn’t have time to research how to use my iPhone camera in Mexico without incurring any weird charges. Next time I’ll be prepared.

What an experience! After parking the car in an enormous parking lot, we walked across the international border, and each paid $1 to immediately face a barrage of vendors peddling everything from dental services, pharmacias and chiropractic care to shoes, leather goods, jewelry and lots more. It was overwhelming to say the least.

Shopping at the pharmacia was a pleasant experience, though, and I was able to pick up some over the counter drugs that I’ve heard are in short supplies in some places (Mucinex, etc.). Dave thought he might be able to pick up a bottled or two of his favorite liquor cheap, so we went hunting for that, but apparently tequila is the only thing there that’s really a bargain. And there’s a lot of that! Still, the experience was really fun! Actually, we weren’t hassled at all while we shopped inside the stores; it was when we were outside that we were hawked by both vendors and young children peddling trinkets and Chicklets.

Outside, stalls were lined up one after another, every vendor vying for attention. I really didn’t need a thing, which was good because I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed being pressured to buy, and I can’t haggle. It’s nice to be in a place in life where I’m satisfied with what I have. I have enough. Actually, after seeing what I saw today, I’m convinced I have more than enough.

After eating lunch at one of the restaurants there, already bustling with lots of business and tourists dancing to the live music at noon, we continued perusing a little while longer before heading back across the walkway. I was really grateful our friends took us there—since they’d been over several times and knew the drill—and for the experience itself. It’s been a highlight of our trip so far.

That brings us to yesterday, when we drove just 60 miles east to South Padre Island. Thank God. The wind was blowing steadily at 30 mph the entire time, including when we crossed the 2.5 mile long Queen Isabella Memorial Bridge–which was a terrifying experience for me, especially at the bridge’s highest point, where two lanes merged into one because of construction. The motorhome was just one, big sail and feeling the wind’s effects was nerve-wrecking. I was glad to get that part of the trip behind usl

This is another place we’ve never been, so we’re looking forward to the wind dying down and the temps warming up in a couple of days so that we can get out and explore. I’m sure there’s more to this month that’ll be worth writing about. Until then, we are hunkered down!

Late November Greetings!

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Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons. ~Jim Bishop, American author and columnist

November 24, 2022

Hello again, and Happy Thanksgiving! I hope this finds you doing well wherever you are and whatever you may be doing. It’s been a very rainy Thanksgiving Day here in northwest Arkansas, but a wonderful day nevertheless. We’re in the process of tying up loose ends and plan to leave this Monday, the 28th, for parts south.

One of the reasons we lingered here as long as we did was to experience a little bit of what the Christmas season is like in Branson, and we’re glad we did. I love, love, love seeing Christmas lights and so we got tickets for the drive-through Deck the Trails tour when it first opened on November 6th. It was a beautiful evening, around 65 degrees. Since it was the first night, the teenagers working the event seemed uncertain about traffic flow, and we ended up driving through three times! We’re so grateful we went when we did…by the end of the week, we were having lows in the 20s and highs only in the 40s.

Another Christmasy thing we did was see the Haygoods’ Christmas Show. The talent that runs in this family of performers is incredible, and they put on a terrific performance. It’s no wonder they are Branson’s #1 show, and if you click on the link, you will see why! It’s their Christmas show, in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it!

Once we leave here Monday, we will have about three weeks to wander before our first reservation on the 23rd on South Padre Island. It’s kind of disconcerting not having a mapped out plan in place with reservations and all, but that’s what will make this year’s migration south an adventure. The whole uncertainty of the availability of diesel is the main reason ‘why.’ So, we’ll just slowly make our way south and stop for a while when we find some place good.

Until next time, take care and be safe. Seems to be a crazy, upside down world these days. Much love and long hugs, Maria

P.S. If this post seemed lacking in content, it may be because I’ve been writing daily on my other blog, Gratitude365. It’s daily gratitude for ordinary events written in a journal format. I hope you get a chance to wander over there!

Autumness

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October had tremendous possibility. The summer’s oppressive heat was a distant memory, and the golden leaves promised a world full of adventures. They made me believe in miracles. ~ Sarah Guillory, Reclaimed

Hello again! I hope that this finds you and yours doing well and enjoying a colorful autumn. Despite not having much rain this summer, the fall foliage here in northwest Arkansas was better than expected and we’ve been seeing some beautiful changes along the bluffs that tower above the lake. Most of the other owners have already left or, like us, will be leaving soon. Things are winding down.

I almost skipped writing an update this month, basically because we’re living a fairly mundane existence and also because I’m writing daily musings on another website I play around with, www.gratitude365.us. But I found I couldn’t not do it, especially as the month dwindled down to these last couple of days. So, I thought the simplest thing to do is attach the gratitude365-link to this month’s out-of-the ordinary happenings if you’d like to read more. There were a few this month: Kate and the kids visited during fall break, Dave and I celebrated our 44th wedding anniversary, and I celebrated 11 years of sobriety. October was a banner month in comparison to most.

We’ve been really enjoying the e-bikes we got a few weeks ago, thanks in large part to a really nice 6-mile-round-trip bike path at Dogwood Canyon Nature Park, not too far from here. It’s another local Johnnie Morris (Bass Pro Shop) development–the others being Big Cedar, Top of the Rock–where opulence somehow tastefully melds with nature. Our goal is to go at least three times a week. The exercise has done Dave’s knee a world of good, and we’ll be taking the bikes with us when we head south next month. We have no firm departure date set, thinking that we’ll play the weather and leave when it gets too cold. Meanwhile, we’ve already cleaned and stored away most everything on the patio that needed to be put away for the winter and could be ready to go anytime.

Our Biscuit-pup (14) gave us a bit of a scare earlier this month. Here it was October, and her incision was still draining from a procedure that had been done in early August. A follow-up was done last month and an x-ray had been taken, but nothing was detected. So Dave took her BACK to the vet earlier this month again and this time the head vet examined at her. He discovered the drain tube was still lodged inside her, but it couldn’t be seen on the x-ray for some reason. Not only that; the tube was the size that would be used on a cow! Poor Biscuit! She’s doing much better now that it’s been removed! Meanwhile, Victor (17) is doing well, though the vet thinks he might be showing signs of doggie dementia. Such is life.

That’s about all from here for now. Christmas in Branson kicks off November 1, and I’m glad we’ll be here to see some of the festivities. The Gratitude365 website is where I hope to post daily essays on finding gratitude in everyday moments and challenges.Until then, peace, love, and long hugs. Take care💞 Maria

September Scuttlebutt

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“Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul…but I must confess that I love you only because you are a prelude to my beloved October.” -Peggy Toney Horton, Writer

Autumn greetings from the Arkansas Ozarks! I hope this finds you well. A potpourri of activities made our first September here fly by–most of them fun, some of them “routine.” Temperatures are finally turning cooler, and there are fewer and fewer people here at the resort as the weeks go by. There aren’t as many boats out on the lake, even on the weekends. It’s nice and quiet.

We saw just one Branson show this month, and it was THE best one we’ve seen yet. The Haygoods are six incredibly talented siblings who grew up fiddling in the backwoods of the Ozarks. A 2-week contract at Silver Dollar City back in 1993 kicked off what’s turned out to be a 30-year run of more than 7,000 performances, with more than 400 of them sold out!! The Haywoods do it all: sing, dance, play more than 20 instruments, and even do their own pyrotechnics. They give only two, 2:00 o’clock performances each year, the rest being evening shows. Sunday of Labor Day weekend was one of them and we were able to get tickets, which turned out to be extra special performance for them: their parents were in the audience. It was everything Trip Advisor reputed it to be, and a lot more. We enjoyed it so much, we already got tickets for their Christmas show in November.

My brother and sister-in-law came down to visit us for a couple of days this month and took a chance staying at the closest place to where we live, Morningside, the Jim Bakker compound in Blue Eye, MO. It’s about five curvy, country miles and 15 minutes away. Even though no references were made to Bakker’s prior PTL club on its website, Dave and I went there personally prior to their making reservations to scope things out.

Morningside is a development community spread across 600 acres and includes condos, townhomes, tiny homes, an RV park, as well as an 11,000-sq. ft. tabernacle and a 150-seat studio from which The Jim Bakker show is recorded. Other than the 15-foot statue of Jesus in the lobby and the fact that in many ways it looks like a Hollywood backlot set of an early 19th century European town, nothing about the hotel seemed too out of the ordinary, and their stay there was fairly uneventful, save for hearing “Have a blessed day!” more than they’re used to.

As soon as they left to go back to St. Louis, we threw enough clothes and toiletries for the weekend in a couple of bags, loaded them and the pups in the car, and took off for Hopkinsville (420 miles away.) Our granddaughter’s volleyball team’s only scheduled weekend game was the very next day, and I had promised her this summer that if she made the team, Papa and I would come to see her play. We weren’t about to break this promise, especially given how hard Maeby worked to make the team! It made her so happy to have us there to watch her play, and that made us happy we made the trip!

Now that it’s cooler–and we can safely leave the pups in the car with the windows down–we recently decided to take a little field trip to Arkansas’ Grand Canyon in Jasper, 61 miles and an hour and a half away. I have a penchant for seeking out unusual tourist attractions, like Walton’s Mountain in Schuyler, Virginia or Stonehenge II in Ingram, Texas. Our curiosity has never disappointed us.

Prior to going, I checked Trip Advisor to see what others thought of it. The only negative comments were from people who compared it to THE Grand Canyon in Arizona, with the majority being overwhelmingly positive. We took the scenic route along Highway 7, which happens to be part of one of the state’s most popular motorcycle routes and one that large RVs are discouraged from taking because of the numerous sharp hairpin turns and the steep descents. It’s a beautiful drive, one that will be spectacular in the coming weeks with the fall foliage, I’m sure.

It was Ozark folklorist Vance Randolph that said, “It’s not that the mountains are so high, but that the valleys are so deep,” and this so eloquently described our destination. Arizona, it is not. But for our little corner of the world, it’s amazing.

Finally, age is catching up with me. A few weeks ago my right-hand thumb began ‘locking’ and was becoming really bothersome, so I was referred for an x-ray to be done at the hospital, in this case, CoxHealth in Springfield, MO. I was stunned that ‘gender inclusivity’ has infiltrated various institutions the way it has, even affecting the registration/intake process for health care. After getting my basic information, like name, address, date of birth, etc, the person-behind-the-glass taking my information paused, looked straight at me, and with a deadpan expression asked, “Female?” I rolled my eyes. I’m too old for this.

Such is life these days. Down is up, and up is down. It is a crazy, crazy world. We just keep on keeping on, one day at a time. So until next time, take care and be safe. Much love and long hugs from us and the pups. ~Maria☺️

Time out.

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Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.– Sam Keen

I’ve always loved August.

August is still summer, but things have slowed down considerably. I like that. The temperatures, though continued warm, are not unbearably steamy like they were in July, and I definitely like that. While retailers are already wishing fall and winter were here, I’m going to wear WHITE up to and including Labor Day. I wouldn’t mind if August lasted longer.

A birthday earlier this month got me thinking of forks in the road of Life, and mine in particular. You know, when you think of what might have happened if you did this, or if you hadn’t done that. All moot, of course, since it is what it is, and the only thing that really matters is now. But turning 68 made me reflect nevertheless.

By now, I thought Dave and I would be settled in a house somewhere, like most people. But it doesn’t look like that will happen anytime soon. We spent the whole summer on our RV-lot in northwest Arkansas and have grown to really like it, both the RV-community and country living. If it weren’t for winter, we’d probably stay here year round. Snow keeps us on the move, and it snows here.

There are just a handful of us that call Ozarks RV Resort ‘home.’ Most of the 164 lots are owned by absentee owners whose RVs are here, but they themselves are not—at least, not very often. So, it’s a very tranquil existence. It’s nice. It’s very quiet. It’s safe.

It takes at least half an hour to drive to the nearest grocery store, and the closest restaurant is the Oasis, more than 10 miles away, so we eat at home for the most part. When we bought the lot, it came with a Blackstone grill, so Dave’s been loving that. Me, too! 😋 We also tried a little bit of gardening, now that we have ‘our own place,’ and planted tomatoes, peppers, green onions and strawberries in containers, having success with everything except the berries. We didn’t have a bumper crop, but enough of a yield that we’ll try again!

Where we’re located on Table Rock Lake is a stone’s throw to Missouri; I kayak past the imaginary MO/AR state line most mornings.

I like to be out on the water around sunrise while the lake is flat and not yet disturbed by boaters…and before it gets too hot. Early morning is also the best chance to get a glimpse of the mountain goat who, as it turns out, is so popular that he’s got his own Facebook page. “Crisco, the Table Rock Lake Goat,” has almost 4,000+ followers. He’s a celebrity!

Both of our pups had surgery this month to remove a bump and a lump—a bump on the base of Victor’s tail and a lump on Biscuit’s side—and their convalescence kept us even closer to home than we normally are. We only needed to make sure we had enough groceries to get us through several days at a stretch, and otherwise just kept a low profile here. Considering both pups are seniors, they are doing pretty well. Twice every day, we take them for a ride in the golf cart up to the dog park, and they love it!

The need to stay close to home was the perfect time to do a lot of routine maintenance projects on Felix and a couple of big chores that we’ve been procrastinating: pressure washing the concrete lot and unclogging the patio drains. We worked as a team on the former and got the job done in about 10 hours over two days. I was so intent on erasing all the filth that had accumulated on the lot since before we bought it, that I didn’t think to take pictures. But trust me, it looks beautiful! When it came to dealing with the clogged drains, Dave was on his own. I saw potential for a real mess, and I really hate to get dirty.* Dave got really dirty. Unexpectedly. 😂

And so, this very low-key month ends. While it’s been very unusual not to have workamped this summer as we have the past three, the time spent here was productive just the same. We’re already thinking in terms of heading south (and all that needs to get done before we do), which we supposed would be in December but will ultimately be decided by Mother Nature and weather.

After five winters in Bandera, Texas, we’re going to try somewhere different this year: Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi—on the Gulf coast, about an hour east of New Orleans. We lived there once very, very briefly; we bought the house in May 2004 and Hurricane Katrina wiped it out in August 2005. Devastating as that event was, it taught an important lesson about stuff and what really matters and what does not—and that helps with this lifestyle, for sure. In any event, we’re looking forward to going back and seeing how things changed.

So, with that, I’ll close for now, and I hope to get your reply. Until next time, I wish you good health, love and peace. Take care. ♥️Maria

*A long-ago, past relationship ended because of motocross. Shallow on my end? Perhaps. But I really don’t like to get dirty.😖