Midwest Gypsy

May 17, 2020

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m not even sure of what day it is anymore, it would be hard to comprehend that this is the beginning of the 10th week of the new normal. Thank goodness we deliver Meals on Wheels every Wednesday; that gives me a reference point. Otherwise, everyday would be like Groundhog Day.

We haven’t left Bandera yet, but at least we moved the motorhome to a different spot within the RV park, and even that was kind of exciting since it hadn’t moved since November. Relocating to a space with some shade was an idea we’d been kicking around ever since the temps have been consistently in the 80’s and sometimes 90’s; but as is so often the case, it took an unfortunate event to prod us into action. Our neighbor’s dog bit me.

I’ve never been bitter by a dog, and it was a frightening experience! It was our neighbor’s, an aggressive canine that always went ballistic at the sight of another dog. When she was chained up outside, she’d clothesline herself lunging after any dog being walked past. Her name was Hunter, but I referred to her as Cujo.

On the day of the incident, I was puttering outside on the RV. It was now May, the virus’ curve had been flattened, and I was hopeful that we’d finally be leaving Texas any day. On that particular day I had removed our tire covers, cleaned them and was in the process of applying a protectant to the tires. My back was turned to our neighbor’s RV when I heard their door open. Cujo bounded out and in a heartbeat was planted right next to me.

Ever since I was a child, we’ve had pups as pets. I’m a dog-lover and generally unafraid of them, but 40-pound Cujo was different. There within reach, her eyes were fixed on me, and her rigid, muscular body was was extremely daunting. I looked at her and murmured “Hey, Hunter,” trying to sound friendly and composed. Inside though, I was dying; this dog was capable of eating me alive. Maybe she sensed that I was terrified, because before I knew what was happening, she bit my calf.

What Cujo’s owner was doing while this was transpiring I don’t know, but he had yet to come over and retrieve his animal. In a stern but subdued voice I appealed, “Please come and get your dog.” When he finally did and the coast was clear, I quickly retreated into the safety of our RV and filled in Dave on all the action he’d missed.

We reported the incident to the office, and the manager wanted to know if I wanted to have the marshall come down and press charges. It wasn’t serious enough to warrant that, I thought, but the dog’s owners needed to be aware that they need to keep their dog under control, so they were issued a warning that if it happens again, they’d have to vacate the RV park.

Since we’d committed to being here through the end of May, and it was only the 8th, we took that as our sign to move. Our new spot doesn’t have as much space nor the expansive view as the other, but we have plenty of shade and good neighbors, so the trade-off was worth it.

Bandera’s businesses have opened up and by the looks of Main Street, you’d never know there was a pandemic. Few people wear masks, and the city park just next door is packed on Saturdays and Sundays. Last weekend the city charged $5 a head admittance and netted $7,000. That’s a lot of people.

We haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since early March, but we have been supporting our local restaurants regularly by ordering take-out. One of our favorites is veteran-owned JM Artisan Bakery. The owner is retired Navy, and served as part of the Presidential Food Service Security at the White House, cooking for Presidents Clinton and Bush. To say that his delicacies are amazing is an understatement. His bread is so good, in fact, that one day last month, two older ladies actually fought over the last loaf. Another worker tried breaking them apart when one of the women fell on him, breaking his foot. The bread is that good!

We plan to leave Bandera May 31st so that we can be in Dallas for a June 2nd appointment for routine maintenance. Where we go after that is uncertain, though we hope to end up somewhere in western Kentucky so that we can spend time with our daughter and grandkids.

This experience has made me hesitant to make any concrete plans, having had to cancel four reservations already. I’m actually getting used to uncertainty, and am even looking to the future as an adventure. It’s a good thing I think of myself as a gypsy, because where we’ll end up is anyone’s guess.

Until next time, be safe. Stay well. And wash your hands!

Maria☺️

March 31, 2020

Hello, Friends. 😃

Today was supposed to be the day that we’d be packing up the rest of our stuff, loading it all into Felix, our motorhome, and saying good-bye to our friends here in Bandera. We’ve been looking forward to heading to Kentucky to be with our daughter and grandkids, but that’s not going to happen for a while. Something unforeseen and deadly has thrown a virtual monkey wrench into world order, and the result is that “guidelines” have been put into place that will hopefully mitigate a virus that has already been responsible for more than 3,000 deaths in our country alone.

The latest guidelines call for all Americans to stay put wherever they are until April 30, so here we will stay. Most of our snowbird friends left a few weeks ago to head north and return home, for better or worse. Looking at websites that track the number of confirmed cases/deaths, it appears that some friends have jumped from the frying pan into the fire, but that was their choice.

The managers of the RV park we’re at are doing everything they can to protect us and keep us healthy. Not only were all social activities halted abruptly, but no new arrivals have been allowed in for more than two weeks. If people decide to leave, they’re informed that they cannot return. Bandera County is about as safe a place as any; there are zero cases of the Coronavirus here.

I’ve lost count of how long the guidelines have been in effect. All I know is that life has changed dramatically, but it’s important to realize that it’s not all tragic. With all the hype about the Coronavirus infiltrating our lives through the media 24/7, it takes determination and self-discipline to not be consumed by doom and gloom.

Those who know me might be surprised that I found myself slipping into a depression of sorts; whereas I once journaled daily, I completely stopped. And the fact that I’m blogging today is more a reflection of the calendar and that it’s the last day of the month. For years I’ve blogged at least once a month and oftentimes more…I’m OCD and knew I’d never forgive myself if I skipped this month’s entry.

Not that I didn’t try to write…I must’ve started this post at least half a dozen times, but deleted them all after the first paragraph or two. I didn’t really want to write about what was going on all around, but what else was there? An email that a friend sent me yesterday hit me like a slap upside the head, which was exactly what I needed. It contained a video that I’d seen years ago. Perhaps you will recall it, too.

The video was about a teacher who’d announced to her class that they were going to have a pop quiz. The students anxiously sat and waited while the teacher walked around the room and placed the test, face-down, on each one’s desk. When she had distributed everyone’s test, she told them to turn over the paper and write about what they saw. To everyone’s surprise and confusion, the paper contained a single black dot.

After a certain amount of time, the teacher collected all the essays and read each one aloud. Each of the students had written about the dot—its color, its size, its location. No one had written about all the white surrounding it.

The teacher professed that this is how it is in life…that so often all we focus on is what is going wrong in our lives. What we want but don’t have. What we have but don’t want. Problems in relationships. Aches and pains. Financial difficulties. And on and on.

We don’t pay attention to the “white,” on all the things we take for granted. The love of friends and family. The roof over our heads. Food we eat. Clothes we wear. The sun that warms us. Rain that’s necessary for crops and plants to grow. Kindness of strangers. Nature’s abundance. And on and on.

I’m so grateful for that email and for the friend who sent it. It instantly yanked me off the pity pot on which I’d been sitting way too long and opened my eyes to all the beauty surrounding me and the blessings I’ve been given. It reminded me to pay more attention to the “white” and not so much to the black dot.

It reminded me to be grateful for all the people who are out there working to keep things going in these unprecedented times, and especially health care workers who are on the front lines. It reminded me to pray hard and often for all our country’s leaders who are working tirelessly in a thankless job that doesn’t have an end date. It put a lot of things into perspective.

I think I’ll go outside now and enjoy the day. It sure is a beautiful one. until next time…

Monday, January 6, 2020.

With the new decade already a few days old, let me wish you “Happy New Year” before too much more time passes. Life has a way of melding one day into the next subtlety if we’re not paying attention.

As I write , it’s a little after 6 o’clock, Monday evening. Dave’s up at Pioneer’s rec center where the weekly “Burgers & Bingo” is just getting underway. The RV park isn’t filled to capacity yet, but even so, there are a fair number of “winter Texans” here—and many of us congregate every Monday to eat a meal together and play. It doesn’t cost much…$1/game and five games are played. Winning bingo pots range anywhere from $20-40, so a $5 is potentially a good investment. It’s cheap fun that attracts a certain segment of old people.

I’m typically up there, too, but both of our pups are seniors and have been having medical issues lately…and both had vet appointments today. All things considered, it was better that one of us stay home. I volunteered; Dave has really gotten into playing bingo, and I didn’t want to deny him the pleasure.

Victor, our rescue pup who’s at least 14 years old, had that many teeth extracted this morning, and he’s hurting bad. Poor little guy—his high-pitched whining is grating and sounds so pathetic. I hope the pain meds kick in soon.

Then there’s Biscuit, our 11 year old, 40-pound love, who’s has been having accidents at night. Supposedly this isn’t uncommon with girl dogs, and she’s our firs. Despite medication and doggie diapers, the problem wasn’t any getting better. I’d finally had it last Thursday when it happened again. It’s our fault that we’ve always allowed our dogs to sleep on our bed, and lately we’ve—actually, I’ve—been paying the price since I’m the one that runs off to the laundromat with all the bedding that’s been peed on. I had had enough.

I wish I had a picture of all of us at o’dark:30 Friday morning when I made the unsavory discovery that Biscuit’s doggie diaper had once again leaked majorly. While I was over-reacting and angrily ripping off all the bedding—layer by layer—in a race to save it from penetrating through to the mattress, Dave was sympathetically commiserating with the dog, petting her lovingly and whispering soothing words to her in an attempt to comfort her, I suppose.

I gave him a look that prompted him to ask innocently, “What do you want me to do?”

This incident so reminded me of our parenting styles: good cop/bad cop. You can probably guess which one I was.

“Get her out of bed!” I begged in a sarcastically demanding tone, trying hard not to sound mean. After all, it wasn’t Dave who peed on the bed. But it was 2:30 a.m. and I didn’t need this.

Realistically, I couldn’t be mad at the dog…she’s old. We’re old. I guess it was this realization that somehow led to one heck of a wake-up call.

I found myself being thankful.

Thankful that somehow I sensed what had happened and woke up immediately. Soberly and clear headed. Knew what I could do and what I couldn’t do. That instead of over-reacting foolishly, I could react sanely. That I had choices. I kept thinking thankful thoughts, and that changed everything.

Pretty soon I wasn’t ‘as crazy’ anymore. Even though I knew I’d have lots of bedding to launder later that morning, a sense of calmness replaced the chaos of just a few minutes before. It was almost miraculous. I did not react this way when Biscuit first began having problems late last summer.

…Tuesday morning, 12 hours later: Both pups are doing much better. In spite of being minus 14 teeth, Victor has been able to eat without too much trouble it seems, now that his appetite has returned. Biscuit is on stronger meds, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed.

I never thought much about getting older, but now that I’m Medicare-age, a certain sense of reality has come into my awareness. And this particular experience proves yet again that this, too, shall pass. Whatever ‘this’ happens to be. Because as long as we’re alive, it’s always going to be something. How we get through it is up to us.

Until one loves an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.

-Anatole France

November 15, 2019

It’s been two weeks since Dave and I left Felix, our motorhome, in Mineral Wells to have a new hardwood floor installed, and we’ve spent that time wandering around some parts of Texas—Fort Worth, Austin, and Glen Rose. We have our two senior pups, Victor (14) and Biscuit (11) in tow, and the tiny Juke is packed to the max.

We’ve stayed in four Airbnb’s so far; they’re so much homier than hotels and the cost is comparable. It’s been interesting to experience how other people live, if only for a couple of days. In the past couple of weeks, we’ve lived on a horse ranch, in an urban neighborhood, in a gated community, and on a family farm.

We hadn’t ever heard of ‘Glen Rose, the Dinosaur Capital of Texas,’ until I booked an Airbnb there. It’s about 55 miles southwest of Fort Worth and has a population of only 2,500 people. Amazingly, there are 21 churches here. I think this says a lot about Glen Rose.

In addition to all the dinosaur-related attractions here, tourist attractions include the Creation Evidence Museum and, in its 31st season, the annual 12-week run of The Promise, a live-musical depicting Jesus’ life if lived nowadays. The musical is performed at The Promise, a 45,000 gallon, moat-encircled, 3,200-seat amphitheater. I really wish we could’ve seen it.

Another event that we just missed was the Extreme Cowboy Association World Championship, which also would’ve been fun to see. It ended the day we arrived. Between our poor timing and a couple of brutally cold days, we didn’t see much of Glen Rose in the three days we were here, but there’s enough here to warrant a trip back here someday.

We really haven’t done many touristy things, mainly because we’ve had the pups with us 24/7, so our excursions have mostly taken us to parks and places where we could walk them, like the Fort Worth Stockyards. While there, we took the advice of one of our hosts and treated ourselves to a steak. The beef is especially good here. 😋

Other than temporary homelessness, our lives have been pretty normal. We’ve been able to cook just about every meal “at home,” and in the process have discovered new grocery stores in addition to recognizable ones, like Kroger and Aldi.

Believe it or not, a highlight of the trip was finding a do-it-yourself dog wash in Fort Worth, Happy K9. 🐾

The main highlight was being able to be with our son and his family in Austin. We played at the park, went bowling, and ate ice cream. Life doesn’t get much better!

We knew getting into this remodel that we’d be nomads for a while—and figured on a couple of weeks. But, in addition to the cold snap that brought work to a brief halt, there have been a couple of unforeseen hiccups that have stalled progress. Our foreseeable future is uncertain, so if ever there was good reason to practice living one day at a time, it’s now.

We arrived back in Mineral Wells yesterday, and temps are much warmer now, so work should be completed within a few days. Fingers crossed 🤞

October 25, 2019

It’s just after 6 a.m. on Friday morning. There was a time not so long ago when I’d be at the dock to capture photographs of sunrise, but lately there hasn’t been time for frivolous pleasures such as that.

So much has happened recently, and at least five times this month I’ve started writing—but all of a sudden, things would get real busy and writing had to go on the back burner. The last eight weeks have been a blur.

It all started in July when our daughter, who’d been living in our house for the past two years, surprised us by announcing that she’d bought a house of her own. Of course, we were thrilled for her, and couldn’t have been happier for her and the kids. Right around this same time, Dave’s dad passed away.

In late August, Kate and the grandkids moved out of our house. Rather than rent it, we decided to put it up for sale and listed it in September. A couple of weeks later, we had a buyer.

That in itself amazed me, but even more so is the fact that the house hadn’t even been cleared of all our stuff yet! And there was a lot of it: 3-families’-worth. Our stuff, our daughter’s and grandkids’ stuff, and all of my late father-in-law’s stuff that was shipped here from Florida. 1,500 square feet never held so much stuff.

In my mind, the house looked like something right out of “Hoarders.” We took a chance listing it when we did, considering how it looked. But people who’d somehow gotten wind of the house being put up for sale were already coming by, wanting to look at it in spite of all the chaos. News travels fast in this neighborhood.

A woman whose business is tag sales orchestrated ours last weekend because the thought of doing it ourselves was too overwhelming. It was enough just to sort through everything and put it all into logical piles. She took it from there, working for three days staging everything and pricing it all; then she dealt with people, hagglers, and looky-lou’s for two whole days. Her commission was well earned.

So now we’re in the process of packing up and leaving Hillman Ferry Campground. Our plan is to start heading south this coming Monday. The timing couldn’t be better. Temperatures in the low 30’s are predicted for Halloween.

I can’t believe how fast the seven months that we’ve been here at the Land Between the Lakes have gone by! We’ve loved every bit of this workamping experience, being relatively close to our family and friends in Hopkinsville, and discovering how uniquely beautiful western Kentucky is.

Everyone we work with here was surprised to learn that we weren’t planning on coming back next season. It was a very tough and somewhat painful decision because this place is absolutely beautiful, but we just didn’t feel comfortable making a commitment to be here for nine months. We think we might do some traveling next year.

All we know for certain is that we’re leaving Monday. We renewed our membership to Boondockers Welcome, a service that connects RVers with people who are able to host them for free—and already planned our first two stops: first, the Samuel T. Bryant Distillery, https://www.samueltbryant.com/ in Jackson, Tennessee, and then the Candy Cane Corral in New Boston, Texas, just west of Texarkana, later in the week.

Ultimately we’ll end up in Bandera, Texas, where we’ve spent the past two winters. But on the way we’re dropping off Felix in Weatherford, Texas to have its old flooring replaced. That will be at least a 10-day job, and likely more.

That will leave us and our two pups homeless except for the car, and so we’ll just wander and explore. We have no particular plans and zero expectations. It should be interesting, to say the least.

The Juke is going to be packed with us, the pups and all their stuff, luggage, the cooler… Both Biscuit and Victor are senior pups (11, 14) and love to travel.

Unfortunately, Biscuit’s been having incontinence issues, and she just started wearing diapers. Granted, they’re cute, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be putting diapers on a dog!

It is what it is. I guess we’re all getting older, so what can we do but deal with it? Until next time when I’m sure there’ll be a couple of stories, at least…xo ☺️ Maria