"Dear Miss Mermaid...Child of the Planet"

Round the Camp Fire

2012-05-26T12:40:00.002-04:00

I could post pictures of my silly dog all day long. He is such a character at times. He loves to show off when people come to visit.

Other times he like to show his butt off...

A curious old man stopped by. He tells some tall tales. I'm not sure which ones to believe. Meanwhile Harley was cutting up, dragging out his toys, tossing them around, dancing, trying to engage the man in a game.

Five or ten minutes later the man is suddenly talking about sex.

Excuse me? Did I hear that right?

I didn't say that out loud, but my brain heard the screeching sound of brakes being slammed on, for sure.

One minute he is stopping by for lake maps and telling me tall tales, the next he is bringing up sex as if I am the wife of the past 50 years. I picked my jaw up off the ground, honestly the conversation went from RV's to sex in a nanosecond. I told him I had things to do, jumped up and started doing things around the patio. He took the hint and left.

Dealing with the public has its moments!

Oddly enough, folks keep asking me if I have a gun. I find that a very strange question and to me, it seems rather intimate.

Do I just naturally give off that aura of "Come discuss sex and guns with me?"

I must take a long hard look in the mirror. Maybe I am projecting the wrong image.

Is it the cowboy boots?

Guns are heavily regulated, so it's a trick question all around. But a strange one, or it seems very odd to me.

When the last person asked me about my gun ownership, I told them I had enough fire power to take out Goldilocks and the three bears with enough leftover to tackle Big Foot, a few hogs, and some deer.

Yep, I learned a thing or two last winter working in the hunting preserve.

That person chose to leave in a hurry. I have not seen them since. Was it something I said? Was it my camouflaged shirt?

Something about working at the hunting area last winter, made me attracted to camouflaged clothing. I think I was brainwashed by the parade of hunters I met daily.

After Christmas, several hunters were sporting new camo gear. I commented on a guy's new jacket and he was really proud of it saying it was the best Christmas gift ever.

Wasps got inside the motorhome! I guess they are seeking revenge on me. I've been really down and out since getting stung by that nasty vicious one outside. That wasp really stuck it to me, literally.

I've been running around the motorhome with my fly swatter, leaving a trail of tiny dead bodies. Yuck yuck yuck! I have foam wasp killer too that I've used outside. I hate killing things, but that sting really made me grumpy.

I was visiting friends recently when I noticed they had wasp nests on the side of their house. I whipped out my foaming wasp killer can, annihilating the nests in rapid order. My friend duly impressed said "Well... you really come prepared for anything."

I thought this was a big holiday weekend, I expected the boat launch to be nonstop busy, but only one person has launched their boat so far and it's already past 10am.

Maybe they're scared of the fruitcake on the hill with all the guns. The one in the camouflaged gear wearing cowboy boots.

Which, this small town has gossip galore! Someone else stopped by to see if I had brochures from the hunting area I workamped at last winter. Amazingly, I did and gave them away. Talk about a full service information booth.

Harley and I are going for a short walk. Let's see if I can get my stamina back up and moving along again.

It cooled off enough for a camp fire recently. What fun! I love playing pyromaniac.

In Celebration of Harley

2012-05-24T22:01:00.002-04:00

May 25th makes two years since this little starving hitchiker weerily climbed aboard my wheel estate. At five months old, he was underweight, was severely malnourished and seemingly terrified of everything. He wasn't used to eating much, so feeding him was perplexing. He looked sad and tired the first week with energy as exciting as a sleepy turtle.

Two months later, Harley was so cute with both ears down. He loved his little cat bed for sitting and watching me.

He was about 10 months old when we rode in a friend's car. I held his harness and leash while he hung his head out the window.

At Hunting Island State Park he played on the beach at 11 months old.

Just before his first birthday, he suddenly sprouted so much fur, he looked like the Wolf Man.

That is a circular frisbee type toy he has managed to stick around his body. I threw it outside for him to catch, he came back inside wearing it like this. He makes me laugh every day.

Sound asleep in my favorite afghan. We fight over this afghan in bed, because we both want to cuddle up with it.

Harley dons his rain gear in anticipation of a walk in the rain. The pink sheet was snatched off the clothes line outside just as the rains hit. Before I could fold it up proper, a certain doggy made his bed in it.

One day he just sat up like this in the chair. He is looking at my friend who is sitting in the other chair like this. It was funny.

Harley says "I thought you said I was going to the vet to be TUTORED! I seem to be missing a few things down here!"

Beach dude.

The many faces of Harley...

Come real close and I'll kiss you!

Harley loves big toys.

He hangs his head out the RV window, watching me plug in the electricity.

The first time the wind kicked up a pile of dead leaves, he ran off terrified! His fur is gray on top of his head in this picture. He had a head injury when something spooked him and he slammed his head on the metal step. He cried for an hour while I tried to console him. The fur on top of his head turned gray for a few months.

If he thinks I am not walking him fast enough, he hops on his back legs like a kangaroo.

He was so skinny for so long, it was very hard to fatten him up. Look how short his legs were. His body was so tiny under all that fluff. We had returned from playing outdoors and he was seriously wore out.

This picture is before his right ear popped up permanently. He loves big stuffed toys. Eventually he ripped this one to pieces. He still plays with a tiny blue fur remnant.

Now his body has filled out like a cute little doggy. He is sleeping by me while I type.

His first sweater was made out of my black sock. He was thrilled to wear it.

WTF???

Old Grumpy

2012-05-24T04:07:00.001-04:00

This 2012 Renegade motorhome is being advertised as a Class C for only (drum roll...) $361,515.00

I had no idea they could make a Class C soooooo pricey. It does come with a fireplace and a diesel engine. Incredibly, it only sports a tiny 2 burner stove top with no oven. For that kind of money, I would expect a gourmet galley for sure yet this one just came with a modest one sink. Even my tiny old wheel estate (a 1994 28' Class C) came with 2 sinks and a 3 burner stove with oven and broiler.

After looking over the interior pictures, I was pretty let down. The interior designer had all their taste in their mouth... It comes with ho hum beige upholstery, brown maple cabinets and a ridiculously bright orange bed spread is the only thing of color inside, despite the jazzy red and white exterior. Even the maple cabinets look a bit cheesy, like the wrong wood was used or the wrong stain for that type of wood. Can't put my finger on it, but for the price, I would have expected the interior to be eye pleasing candy. It includes 3 jumbo TV's, 2 inside and 1 outside, all 32 inch. I guess that was their main focus.

Travel to exotic places and watch TV. Oh boy!

Well, this is not on my wish list. I stumbled into it, looking for something else.

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This wasp sting has been downright aggravating. The after effects are worse than the sting itself. I was hoping by drinking a gallon + of water all day, that the poison would move along faster. I've just been terribly weak and very sick for days now. Nothing much is getting done at all. I feel extremely frustrated.

The motorhome was scheduled to go to the mechanics Wednesday, but I was too sick to go. The driving doesn't take long, but I have to hang out at their repair facility all day while they do the work. I have to "move out" for the day with Harley. They do have an indoor waiting room, but there is nothing else in walking distance. Since I will probably be there all day, I need to bag my lunch, pack up the computer and dog stuff.

Last time I was there, the TV in the waiting room was turned up super loud, blaring the news nonstop making it difficult for me to think. I don't like TV news at all. I don't trust it one bit, it's designed to make us depressed and scared. What good is that? Having it "force fed" just made me feel trapped and anxious. I kept going outside with Harley, but it was an oh so hot and humid day. (This was last fall when I was at this repair place.)

One of the employees suggested I could let Harley off his leash, since we were indoors. Ha ha ha. Were they ever sorry. Harley followed her around meeting and greeting everyone along the way. He wanted to tour everyone's office and flirt outrageously. I had to leash Harley back up again, as absolutely no one was getting any work done at all but he did fill the building with laughter. I ended up playing with him and walking him, though their parking lot is hot enough to grill on, there is a small field surrounding it and some limited landscaping but no shade or trees around.

Back inside, the waiting room emptied out briefly, so I ran over to turn the TV volume very low, then I turned it off. The next person to turn it back on, was kind enough to leave it set on the low volume. The next problem being that Harley is accustomed to sitting on furniture in the wheel estate and in chairs on the patio when camping. So he naturally sat on the furniture in their waiting room. I kept trying to get him to lay in the floor. I had brought his puppy blanket to lay on the floor but he wasn't interested and kept sitting in a chair next to me. Finally I lifted him out of his seat, spread his clean blanket out on the seat, then sat him back down.

He then ruffled it up into a ball, laid on that, then drifted off to sleep, half on the blanket, half on the chair.

I feel a little silly, moving out of the wheel estate with doggy, blanket, dog bowl, bag lunch, water glass, computer, cords, plugs, phone. Most people waiting around just stare at the TV but they aren't there all day, they just seemed to be waiting for an oil change. I'm just not a TV person unless I am sick. Then it's the idiot box to keep me company because I am too sick to complain about it.

Anyhow, I never made it in there today to see about repairs. I am not sure I can afford the repairs, but I do need to see what's going on with my transmission that spit out fluid in the middle of nowhere two weeks ago. I just didn't feel like hanging around their waiting room all day, feeling so sickly.

So, Harley dog and I kept going back to bed, resting up. Every joint in my body aches. I need to stick really close to the restroom. All this from a wasp sting? YUCK!

The wildflowers I planted around the place where I workamp have little green half inch shoots growing. That is exciting, at least for me. I smile at them, willing them to grow more. I can't wait to see the beautiful colors.

I did mange to take Harley on a few very short walks. I feel like I am cheating him. He really annoyed me by throwing his tennis balls down the hill then crying hysterically. Dogs have a one track mind. Trying to change his focus to something else isn't working. Maybe I am just grumpy from all the pain and exhaustion. Walking up and down hills fetching tennis balls for a naughty puppy just wasn't making me happy at this point.

I so wish he could understand about "down hill" and stop throwing his tennis balls down it. Oh man, I do sound grumpy don't I?

The other annoying problem, besides running back and forth to the bathroom, is I keep getting c-c-c-cold. I even tried to build a fire outside this afternoon in spite of the 74F temperature. Soon as I got a roaring fire going, the rains came and reduced it to smoke only. Now it's 4am and my indoor thermometer says 72F and the outdoor one says 63F and I am c-c-c-cold. Of course it's 4am and I have been up since 230am.

Maybe I will go lay under the covers and try to warm up again.

Random Throws

2012-05-22T20:44:00.000-04:00

Hello from Gumlog, Georgia

The heavens just opened up with thunder rumbling, mumbling, grumbling. Little Harley dog looks so unhappy. He hates the rain. Poor doggy.

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On a fun note, this weekend we had our information booth set up outside on the patio that came with the camping lot where I workamp. A friend of mine I had not seen in ages, drove down to visit. We were sitting outside. A man in a golf cart stopped by with questions. I invited him to sit a spell. Harley was flirting with him because he just loves golf carts. Eventually while the adults were chatting, Harley went over to play in the golf cart. He got in the floorboard carrying his tennis ball. Then he tried out the front seats, settling on the driver's seat.

We are on a hill. Harley has thrown his tennis ball down the hill many times. Then he cries like a baby because his tethering system won't allow him to run free. Typically it rolls down the driveway, across the road, down the long length of the sloped boat trailer parking lot, then sometimes it rests on the grassy lot to the side of that and other times it simply lands in the lake, never to be seen again. Harley can cry like a baby until I leash him up to go for a walk to find his tennis ball or golf ball or whatever he has lost next.

Today, I was laughing, telling the golf cart owner how much Harley loves golf carts. See? He has moved right in, tennis ball and all. About that time, as if on cue, Harley threw his tennis ball down the hill. His tether wouldn't reach beyond the golf cart, so he sat there in the front seat, crying like a hungry baby. This prompted the owner to hop in the cart to zip down the hill for the tennis ball, which was incredibly nice of him.

But Harley didn't get to ride. I know that's what he really wanted, was a ride in the golf cart. But when the man came back with his tennis ball he was ecstatic. He wanted to play fetch next and show off his tricks. He is such a clown to have around, he makes me laugh.

When I have company, Harley likes to sit in a chair and visit with us too.

Does he know he is a dog? When should I tell him? Do you think he will be devastated when he finds out he is adopted?

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Living on boats and far flung islands, one learns a good bit of creative recycling. Years back, I was in an apartment on a tiny island that had screens over some of the windows. One day a big gust of wind blew in so stiff, that it knocked the screens right out of the windows. The little plastic doodahs that held the screen in place, simply broke off. They were now useless. No way to hang the screens back up. Local hardware stores were a joke and not local at all. The closest one was about an hour away and not likely to have anything near as handy as screen clips.

Another sailor was visiting me. We scratched our heads, then he dug in the garbage, finding some beer caps he had discarded. He knocked a hole in each cap, then used the retaining screws that had previously held the plastic doodahs to attach the beer bottle caps. Now the window screens were back in place. We laughed about our ingenuity.

Once in awhile someone would ask me why beer bottle caps were on my window frames. Others would look it over, then claim they were going home to fix their screens with bottle caps too. The caps worked so well, they were still holding the screens in place when I moved out years later.

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A wasp stung me the other day. I flushed my hand with copious amount of water. I thought since nothing bad happened in the next hour I was fine. Well late in the night, when I became ill, I found out through internet research that wasp stings can have lots of yucky effects:

Systemic symptoms can include nausea, vomiting, abdominal cramping, and diarrhea due to mast cell activation in the GI tract. Coughing, dyspnea, and wheezing can occur after mast cell activation in the airway.

It was a scary night, but *WHEW* I survived.

Boondocking Part One

2012-05-21T13:00:00.002-04:00

There are many ways to creatively boondock. Boondocking is camping in your RV fully self contained without paying camping fees. It can also be living off the grid with smaller fees, as some parks charge an entrance fee or a fee or permit for dispersed camping.

One way is to drive by night and park by day at picnic areas in public parks. Many are owned by cities, counties, states and the federal government. Most are stunningly beautiful.

Nobody questions a parked RV during the day, it's only at night time they come under close scrutiny when boondocking. Many picnic areas are free and you can typically stay there from the time the park opens until it closes. These types of parks generally don't have camping, but parking at the picnic area all day into the evening is no problem.

Many day use parks close very late in the summer like 9-10-11pm. One can stay until closing, then hit the road late at night. If you stick to the 24 hour places, you can generally do your provisioning at night too, such as buy gas and food.

If you need to stay in one area for a few days to rest up, then try to locate a day use park and a night time boondocking close together. For instance spend the night at Walmart (if allowed) then at daybreak move to the park until it closes, then back to Walmart or somewhere else in the area such as a Flying J.

You can download the Flying J guide that tells you which ones have RV parking.

Also consider joining the WalMart RV-ing yahoo group:

This group is the positive voice of WalMart Rving. We are the original WalMart RVing group. The purpose of this group is to discuss overnight parking of RV's at Wal-mart, K-Mart, Flying J, Travel Centers of America, Camping World, Union76 Truck Stops, Love's, Pilot Travel Centers, AmBest Truck Stops, casinos, and similar hosts that allow free overnight RV parking. We promote a voluntary standard of conduct for RV Parking, as opposed to RV Camping.

Having a solar panel can give you a lot of passive power, particularly in these days and times when modern solar panels keep charging even when in partial shade. Mounting a wind generator can also give you power to keep the house batteries fully charged even at night, if there is any wind. You may want to make your wind generator removable so you don't increase your overhead clearance height.


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Fits Like A Glove

2012-05-20T19:56:00.000-04:00

Reading other people's blogs always gives me food for thought.

And other times... churns my stomach...

I saw a picture on a blog of a guy handling his RV sewer hoses at the dump station without any gloves on at all. For you non-RV-ers, a dump station is where you go to empty your gray water and black water holding tanks.

Some campgrounds have sewer hookups right at your campsite but many do not. In that case RV-ers use their "holding tanks" to hold the waste water. The gray water is from the kitchen sink, bath sink and shower. The black water is from the toilet. RV's come with two holding tanks. One gray and one black. Eventually you have to go empty the holding tanks. Not a pretty chore, but it's part of the thrill of living and traveling in wheel estate.

While many times things go fine at the dump station, when they go wrong, they usually do so with about a nanosecond to spare and zero warning. If you aren't already wearing gloves, then things can get real icky, sticky, gooey, stinky, nasty (and did I say messy?) in a heartbeat.

At that point, there won't be time to go don gloves if you are to rescue the sewer situation (before you are permanently banned from the campground.)

You may be forced to jump into action with your bare hands. Do you really want to handle your toilet waste that way?

OK, now I am churning your stomach. So sorry!

There are multiple choices for gloves. Leather, vinyl, neoprene, rubber, and disposable. I have an outside faucet/shower, so I make sure it is open for use before I don my gloves to handle the sewer hoses. Typically I wear these heavy duty leather gloves, which I immediately wash afterwards with soap and water at the outside faucet.

Nothing goes wrong when you are wearing gloves. Only when you are not.

Everyone who travels or rides in an RV should have a pair of work gloves, even if you don't do any work because the spouse or someone else does it all for you. There may come a time when you have to help, like it or not.

The one time you need that extra strength or extra protection, you will be ultra glad you had sturdy work gloves.

Have you ever been forced to break camp and depart during a deluge from the heavens? All the umbilical cords are covered in muck, leveling boards are soaking wet and everything sticks to them. Outdoor patio mats, while often self-draining will act like a magnet attracting everything within 30 yards.

I've seen people cursing in the rain, as they tried to break camp during a downpour with no gloves. Sometimes schedules are such that you can't wait for a prettier day or the camp spot is already rented and you have to be off of it in time. Or your name is mud.

Leather gloves can give you surprising strength to tighten or loosen things.

I must be a glove-o-holic. I have thick leather work gloves and sleek spandex gloves with leather soles that Velcro snugly around the wrists. Matter of fact these were labeled as mechanics gloves when I bought them on sale deeply discounted. They were the perfect choice for standing on a step stool to reach into the bowels of my hot engine to check the transmission fluid without getting my hands burnt. I also have heavy rubber gloves, disposable gloves and some vinyl type snow gloves someone gave me that are actually pretty good in a pinch for handling wet things.

Also, when I have company traveling with me, this means I have extra pairs of gloves for them to wear should they volunteer to help me with the donkey work.

When the macho types tell me they don't need any gloves, I just smile and whisper under my breath "You'll be sorry one day!"

That is typically when things will go wrong. When you or them is glove-less.

Matter of fact, I did burn my hand. I tried to check the transmission fluid without gloves. I felt like a pure idiot because I knew better but I was in a hurry. So the next time, I wore gloves. I didn't get burned.

Recently I drove to the Lavonia Georgia Ford dealer to discuss my vehicle mysteries. (Nothing is fixed yet, seems they require money for that type of work!) But I figured I would drop by anyhow, since I had to go to the nearby grocery store.

Upon my return to my camping area, it was nice and sunny. I hopped out of the driver's seat, opened up the electric compartment, pulled out my electric cord and plugged it into the utility box that is on a post at my workamping site.

No gloves.

Dry hose, sunny day, what could possibly go wrong?

Am I hard headed or what? Sheesh... My mother must be in heaven just rolling her eyes at my gaffe.

Um, gaffe is about to be plural...

I opened the electrical box. I did not know that a big wasp nest was hiding in the cover, in such a place that one would never see it, unless one were laying down on the ground, looking up at the top of the underside of the outer cover.

An angry wasp flew out, stinging me on my hand. My glove-less hand! My burnt glove-less hand! I screamed so loud I am sure they heard me four counties over. I used about a hundred gallons of water trying to wash away the poison, but I have been feeling poorly ever since. That wasp sting really did a number on me with numerous unpleasant side effects, worse than handling a broken sewer hose.

Shame on me. That's twice I screwed up by not wearing gloves.

Buy gloves. Wear gloves. Don't be hard headed like me.

Pastels by Dear Miss Mermaid

2012-05-19T12:47:00.003-04:00

Silent Saturday

Wild Wild West At The Park

2012-05-18T08:37:00.001-04:00

This day-use park where I volunteer in Georgia as a workamper is like the wild wild west. It will settle down soon I hope. Last year the season started out wild and crazy, ditto for this year.

Usually the park is sedately quiet, with the occasional boater using the boat launch ramp. Other times it comes alive with eclectic visitors.

Maybe it's just a serious case of spring fever has seized the brains of otherwise law abiding citizens. Or maybe there are just too many laws all around and folks come out to the country to sow their wild oats.

Four simple rules are posted at the park entrance but are mostly thoroughly ignored.

15 MPH Speed Limit

No Alcohol

Pets Must Be Leashed

Park in Designated Areas

Seems like folks are always trying to figure out how to get their vehicles off the road and into the woods as if the lake is just not near as nice unless they can have their vehicle parked up front, blocking their view.

A scant few people take advantage of our scenic picnic areas.

Harley and I were chased by an unfriendly loose brown and black pitbull that was rather frightening. Luckily we were almost home. We had to run hide inside the wheel estate to avoid being attacked. Incredibly this family had brought their dogs to the park without leashes. The parents ignored my yells for them to come get their dog, instead dispatching their little kid who appeared to be 8 or 9 to come get the pitbull while they stood about 800 feet away staring at the lake pretending not to notice the commotion.

Somebody left behind two unlabeled 5 gallon square vats of a golden liquid at the far parking lot where the scenic picnic tables are. I found the identical generic containers on the internet selling for $15 each empty. I was poking around the internet to determine what exotic liquids might be inside, since there were no labels. No telling what the liquid is but some body spent $30 on just the containers, filled them with something, then drove out here to the boonies just to bring us that treat. They were thoughtful enough to put them inside one of the garbage cans.

But isn't that just weird? What's in the containers that they drove all this way just to dispose of them?

The folks that left behind the overloaded baby diaper 10 feet from the garbage can were not so thoughtful. (These idiots are raising the next generation?)

I found the strange vats because the Budweiser brats are back. They cruise the park tossing out Budweiser beer cans along the side of the park road, despite our dozens of trash cans. They also smashed a few Budweiser bottles in the parking lot. I had picked up all their cans, to throw away when I found the two strange 5 gallon containers hogging the garbage can.

This park is at the dead end of a very curvy 2.5 mile country road that makes a hard 90 degree turn then dead ends at the scenic picnic area. The closest town is nearly 10 miles away. People come flying down here at 60 miles an hour, right past the 15mph signs, taking that hard turn with screeching tires. I hear them turn around at the picnic area, then I watch them race back out at 70mph. Loads of folks cruise through here swerving down the park road while talking or texting on their phones. That must be the in-thing to do these days, ride around remote countryside texting or talking while frantically driving like they are racing to a fire.

On a funny note, the volunteer fire department drives down here once a week. You can tell when the new recruits are learning to drive the trucks. They loudly grind the gears while bunny hopping with the clutch.

While walking, several times in the short 2 weeks I have been here, Harley and I have had to leap into the woods because of distracted drivers that were playing with their phones and running off the road towards us. I figure we'll have another fender bender any day now when a tree jumps out in front of them.

A boy and girl came roaring down here on an ATV. They took the 90 degree right angle turn so fast, the ATV leaned up on 2 wheels, almost laying down on its side, for what seemed like 3 minutes, it looked like they were going to flip over then roll down the sloping boat parking lot landing on their silly heads.The ATV had no roll-bars. The boy was laughing loudly but the girl was screaming hysterically so the folks two states away could hear her. I'm just grateful the ATV righted itself, like a giant unseen hand reached down from the heavens above and saved the fools at the last split second. I don't think a Hollywood stunt driver could duplicate what these kids did. I was walking the dog about 20-30 feet away at the time. I am sure my jaw fell to my knees while I was fumbling for my cell phone thinking we were going to need an ambulance (or a shovel and a hearse.)

Garbage and cleaning aren't on my official park duties, but I am often seen retrieving crap out of the bushes. There is a maintenance crew that drops in daily to clean the restrooms and pickup the garbage from the cans liberally scattered throughout the park. But during the day and night, there is more roadside garbage thrown out windows of speeding park visitors. I try to pick it all up as I walk the dog but it's frustrating. Last year I was hit by a flying soda can thrown from a speeding car.

I want the park to be beautiful without all this rubbish cluttering up nature. I surely don't understand the mentality of visiting an exquisite remote public park just to toss garbage out the car windows. I found McDonald's litter today in the middle of the park road, yet the closest McDonald's is 14 miles away. It's mind boggling! Are the raccoons getting take-out from McDonald's?

The fist night of the fishing tourney, not a single soul remembered to pay their boat launching fees in the honor box which is referred to as the iron ranger. Only one had an annual exemption permit displayed.

Oh and the lovers. We get more lovers than swimmers, picnickers or boaters. Sometimes I think half the county must be having clandestine love affairs out here. It's rather comical when you think about it. Some of things Harley and I see on our walks is not G-rated at all. I leave this up to your imagination, so as not to offend any readers.

Spring fever must be in the air and folks are just plain wild and crazy lately.

Even my dog acts goofy some days. Small wonder that rumors abound of a monkey in the park.

Beauty And Hope For A Dollar

2012-05-16T10:45:00.001-04:00

I've been doing pioneering stuff. Really strange things. When I wrote "Ten Ways To Cheer Up Your Life" one suggestion was:

GROW. Plant seeds. Growing things is not rocket science. Buy a pack of flower or herbal seeds. Follow the directions and plant. Water as needed and pray.

Maybe I could have explained further, that this gives one hope, that something beautiful will happen in the future.

In my provisioning travels, I tend to hit the super cheap stores first before I finally go to a regular grocery store to finish rounding out my provisioning. For instance I often go to "Dollar Tree" where everything is $1 because they have some fabulous bargains on certain food items. The problem is they also sell a ton of other stuff that is fun to look at. Sometimes something falls into my cart that isn't edible, but is such a bargain I can't resist because it is something I will use and it's 50-90% cheaper than anywhere else. Splurging like this is rare for me, but it occasionally happens.

One day a box of "Wildflower Mix" fell into my cart. Yep, it just tumbled right off the shelf and into my cart of cheap food. It read "Sunny area mix, contains 17 beautiful varieties, covers 100 square feet. A balanced combination of annuals and perennials provides brilliant colors throughout the season in a constantly changing pattern of blooms."

All that for $1.00 even though the box read $2.99. Can beauty and happiness be found in a box for a $1? Well, I intended to find out. Or I could have explained to the cashier, it fell in my cart by mistake, let me put that back. But what's the fun in that?

I figured since Harley dog had a shovel now, I could use that to plant some splendor somewhere in my travels. Harley had taken up voracious digging with his little paws at some of the campsites. One month instead of using his allowance for toys or a sweater (he gets cold super easy) I bought him a small shovel with a telescoping handle to cover up his sins. It was a nice cheap bargain I stumbled into at Big Lots. If I tossed in seeds, before covering up his holes, then I would leave behind a trail of wildflowers.

Of course, since I bought the seeds, he has not dug one hole. For many weeks now, I have waited for him to dig up a campsite so I could plant the seeds and subsequently surprise a future camper with their stunning beauty. But he has found other things to do, and for whatever reason only a puppy brain knows, he has seemingly ceased digging.

Turns out that shovel has come in rather handy for more than just covering up the ankle-breaking holes he was making. I've had to dig out my motorhome twice when the leveling boards jammed between the motorhome undercarriage and the earth while I was trying to drive off of them in anticipation of departing. Not sure why this happened to me twice, but it has. Actually three times, the first time I had no shovel, but a man nearby did and he dug it out for me. (What luck!)

Then at Hunting Island, I put my awning struts out "porch style". They are made to optionally remain attached to the motorhome at a 45 degree angle with the awning out, or they can be unhooked from the side of the motorhome, then placed vertically like a porch post about 8 feet from the motorhome (the awning unfurls to a width of 8 feet). They have two holes drilled into the foot of the strut, so they can be nailed into the earth with large sturdy tent stakes. That way if you bump into it, or a puppy on a tether tangles with it, hopefully it won't collapse causing injury or mayhem or both.

On the left, the strut is planted in the ground "porch style". The strut to the right is still attached to the motorhome. I had the roof at this odd angle, so the rains from the night before could drain without swamping the awning.

The strut can then be adjusted upwards, so that the awning is level with the coach roof. I call this "porch style". At Hunting Island, I tried this out, discovering I liked the idea. Eight or nine days later, when it was time for me to break camp and shuffle along, the tent stakes refused to budge. I think the rains that came right after my arrival, mixed with some natural clay in the earth, then the subsequent sunny days, baked this hard as concrete.

I tried vise grips, a hammer, a few curse words and dumped sweat and water all over these struts, but after an hour of this futile work, they would not budge from the ground, not even a mere half inch.

So I went to see the workampers that were manning the check-in station for campers. I told them I just couldn't leave Hunting Island. My wheel estate was firmly attached to Mother Earth, and I would be forwarding my mail and settling in for a spell. I was absolutely thrilled at this turn of events.

Oh don't I wish! If I could live anywhere in the whole wide world, I would live at Hunting Island indefinitely. But they have rules and regulations preventing this. The tiny park attracts more than a million visitors a year with only 200 campsites and one cabin rental.

Before the day and age of internet reservations, and before all the cabins fell into the ocean, you had to enter the lottery to get a reservation there. I am not kidding. You filled out a lengthy form mailed it off by a certain date each year.They tossed all that into a box then they pulled out applications one by one until the park reservations were full. If your application wasn't drawn out of the box, well tough luck. Eventually you received a letter in the mail, telling you whether or not you had a reservation that year. At that point you had a few scant days to mail off your payment or lose your reservation completely.

So recently, I was delighted to discover my wheel estate had literally set down roots, refusing to budge. I thought they would now let me live there forever.

Oh dream on...

The couple who had rented my lot after me, had already made a few visits to see if I was off my site yet. I didn't know I was stuck at the time, or I would have asked them for help. Putting the awning away was the very last thing to do, before unhooking the umbilical cords and driving away. I wasn't late leaving the lot, but the couple had arrived early in hopes they could set up.

Well, the workampers didn't want me jamming up the reservation system, so one of them came over to look at my problem. He asked if I had a shovel and a board.

I felt like a pure idiot.

Of all the tools and devices I had tried to remove the offending tent stakes, I had not thought to use my shovel. Duh... Honest to goodness, some days my head must be just a brainless hat rack.

Luckily I did have help, because digging it out, turned out to be heavy duty work, such that a neighbor came over to assist too. It was a tad fun to play the helpless female for a few minutes while the two men did all the grunting, sweating, digging, pulling, cursing work. Typically I am way too proud to ask for help, but sometimes we all need a little help here and there. (And we should swallow our pride and ASK.)

It took the men a good 20 minutes to extract the tent stakes. I thanked them over and over though I really wished they had failed so that I could just blissfully live there forever.

Ever the gentlemen, they foolishly asked if I needed help with anything else.

"Why yes I do! Could you change the oil in the engine, wash and wax the rig, re-caulk the roof, repair the refrigerator, clean the windows, fix the door..."

I suddenly realized I was standing there all alone, holding two tent stakes and a dirty shovel talking to myself. The men had simply vanished!

Oh well. It was worth a try...

Now back to the box of flower seeds. (I sure digress don't I?)

It recently poured down rain steadily for two and half days. When the sun finally made a peek-a-boo, I seized the opportunity to attack the water logged Georgia red mud with Harley's shovel.

I tried nine different ways to encourage Harley to dig the holes for me, to churn up the muddy earth, but he stood there on the driveway, away from the sodden ground, with a tennis ball in his mouth, looking at me like I was crazy. He sure wan't about to get his pristine little paws wet and muddy. He likes to dig up dry dirt, not red wet mud.

I had no idea churning up the earth would be such hard work, or maybe I am just a weakling some days. Well, I know why I am such a weakling, but I like to pretend that all is well and attack chores in hopes I will get better and stronger. It's my insane way of dealing with reality by somehow proving I am worthy of another day on this wonderful planet.

Throughout the day, I fought with the shovel and the earth until I had made a few little flower beds here and there, then I planted the seeds and said prayers. I am embarrassed to say that after all that hard work, I only used up half the seeds, so I've still a long ways to go.

Someone had given me a pack of bamboo shish-kebab skewers. I used these to build little picket fences around my flower beds, so I would remember where to water and hope that the maintenance folks would avoid weed whacking or mowing them down.

Some folks just don't get my weird sense of humor. A jogger came by, stopped and asked me what all the sticks in the ground were for. I said "To mark where the bodies are buried."

He made an abrupt U-turn, flew off down the road and out of the park as if his pants were on fire.

Me so bad. It was a joke! I expect any time now, forensics is going to show up and plow through my flower beds, but I seriously hope not.

Well, I've got to run now myself, to water the dog and walk the seeds.

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Ahchoo Chew

2012-05-14T16:41:00.002-04:00

I've got the blues.

I am so homesick for the Caribbean. I need to adjust better to being an outsider lost in America. Never in my wildest dreams would I believe that I would feel like such a clueless foreigner in the very country I was born and raised in.

But I do.

I've got the blues.

It's been cold at night, plus pouring down heavy duty rains nonstop for 48 plus hours. So I usually love the rain, but the dog and I are tired of being cooped up in our tiny RV staring at each other. We tried watching movies (made us sleepy), we tried housekeeping (made us hungry), we tried cooking (steamed up the windows) we tried working (puppy wanted to play) so we tried playing (oops, we broke something and made a big mess).

I tried to drag the poor little doggy outside between squalls to do his business in the bushes. Poor doggy. Poor me. We dashed back inside, hiding under the covers, his little body shaking, my teeth chattering.

Finally I dried us both off and we put on clean dry clothes. Yep. My little puppy is wearing his little dry sweater and hiding under the pillows for warmth. I find my winter slippers, the fuzzy soft ones to keep my toes toasty. I reach under the pillows and rub his belly. I sneeze a few times and go look for the tissue box which I bring back to bed.

A moment later, I get up to answer the phone, leaving the tissue box on the bed. While I am not looking... somebody *ahem* helped themselves to a tissue and shredded it. I wonder WHO could have done that?

I sit him down in front of the bright lights and start asking questions...

And that silly dog makes me LAUGH LAUGH LAUGH with his put upon somber face as I show him the torn up tissue, he gives me this oh-so-innocent look.

Apparently he doesn't realize some of the "evidence" is stuck to his whiskers.

How can I possibly feel blue with this handful of trouble to make me laugh?

Miss Marian and The Crippled Children

2012-05-13T19:07:00.004-04:00

In loving memory of my mother, Miss Marian.

Happy Mother's Day to one and all.

Circa 1962 according to the reverse side of the postcard

Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children

Greenville, SC

It's Mother's Day and it's pouring down rain. The heavens are crying, my heart is crying.

I miss my mommy.

Boo hoo hoo.

She died way too young.

Don't they all?

She was the greatest woman on earth. I loved her dearly. It wasn't until years later I realized what a rough time she had during certain periods of her life, but she persevered through thick and thin. She had tremendous pride. She would also drop everything to run to someone's aid. She was a generous giving person with an ample bosom that gave wonderful cuddly hugs.

I am sure that around the world are full grown adults who wonder what became of Miss Marian and remember as children, her loving attention and soft enveloping hugs. (Much to my dismay, I did not inherit her massive bosom, instead my chest resembled my father's much of my life.)

When I was 4 or 5 years old, my mother began volunteering at Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children in Greenville, South Carolina. Yes, that was the exact name of it in those days and times. It first opened it doors on September 1, 1927 on Pleasantburg Drive, surrounded by country roads and trees. Now that address is a booming bustling business community.

My mother was known to the children she loved and helped as Miss Marian even though she was married and obviously had a last name. The Shriner's children that came and went in her life, were as much a part of her heart and soul as her own children.

Over the dinner table, numerous times, I heard her describe hundreds of children by first name, what was wrong with them, where they were from, why they were there and whether their family was able to visit them much or not.

She was such a beloved volunteer, she eventually became a salaried employee. At that point and time, children came from around the world to live there for months while numerous surgeries and therapies were performed. My mother taught the younger children, because obviously they weren't able to attend school. Many had never been in school as the school's used to make it nearly impossible for the handicapped to attend. Thankfully schools have radically changed their policies in this day and age.

Some days she was consoling children who were in tears over the pains of wearing various orthopedic braces or learning to deal with new prosthesis that were helping their young bodies to heal or adapt. She described children that hadn't seen their families in months, because they were far away or too poor to travel to the hospital.

She took me to the hospital on several occasions. I clearly remember my first visit at Christmas when I was 5 or 6. I saw children born with numerous physical maladies and children recuperating from horrific accidents or bound in casts or braces or both. Some had prosthesis for legs or arms. Others couldn't leave their beds, which were wheeled into a great hall where some of the children were participating in putting on a Christmas show. Many were in wheel chairs or on crutches or using tiny walkers.

I had been pressed into service to help out with the Christmas Show. I thought my little job was of omni-importance and I did all I could to make my mother and others proud of my help.

On the stage was an artist's easel with a big pad of paper. My mother or someone had written various titles in large letters on the huge pages, announcing each scene. It was my job to turn the pages as the show progressed.

Before the show began, I realized my mother had "other children" as they squealed in delight at her mere presence and called out her name for attention. "Miss Marian! Miss Marian!" She knew every child in the hospital by name. It seemed they all wanted her attention, hugs and devotion all at once. Over and over she introduced me by name, explaining, I was her little girl that lived at home with her. I remember many children being surprised to find out my mother had a young daughter at home.

Strangely, I wasn't jealous. My mother had told me long before my first visit there, how lucky I was to be born without any birth defects. She explained that other children were not so lucky, but Shriners Hospital was working hard to improve their lives. Since she had already described to me children with missing or malformed limbs, I wasn't intimidated when I saw them. The first child she introduced to me had arms that stopped at the elbows but with tiny fingers on the nubs that reached up to hug my mother.

One of the greatest life's lessons my mother taught me, was to never discriminate against others based on their looks or beliefs or race or anything. It was a valuable lesson that has probably greatly contributed to my laid back lifestyle and ease with traveling into different cultures or being comfortable around folks that are radically different.

Over the years, many of my toys would vanish while I was at school and my mother went on one of her spring cleaning rampages throughout our home, leaving it seriously organized in her wake. I would come home from school to find my bedroom and closet cleaned up and out, with many of the toys having been donated to the hospital or other charities.

I found this old postcard for sale on line.
No idea of the year, but note that it is a painting and not a photograph.

Shriners Hospitals for Children in Greenville, and the entire Shriners Hospitals for Children system, have not only kept abreast of the leading medical technologies available, but have become pioneers in their fields. They are recognized world-wide for their expertise in spinal cord injury, burn, cleft lip and palate, plus orthopaedic care.

In the 80's a new hospital was built across town, but the old building still remains with new tenants. At some point, perhaps in the early 70's, it was no longer politically correct to use the word "crippled" for physically challenged patients, so the name was simply changed to Shriners Hospital for Children. I remember when the sign was updated out front. I joked with my mom, "Does this mean the children aren't crippled anymore?"

I don't know if the -32 means this was a depiction of the hospital in 1932 or if that means something else. The road out front is now six lanes, but they mostly encroached from the other side of the road, so as not to take much from the hospital property.

This postcard of the hospital was postmarked 1941.

Now through modern miracles, many children only stay for a few days then return home, continuing with out-patient care. But during the 60's and 70's when my mother worked there, they often moved into the hospital for months at a time, often far away from their families.

I am sure that today on Mother's Day, my mother, Miss Marian, is being greatly honored in the hearts and minds of the thousands of children, now grown adults, that she loved, hugged and taught during their stays at the hospital.

Happy Mother's Day, Miss Marian. You are loved, missed, honored and cherished by me and so many.

Adventures In Boondocking

2012-05-12T23:34:00.002-04:00

Most of my boondocking has been on friend's property though I have camped at truck stops and commercial parking lots by permission. I know many folks do the Walmart boondocking, while others do the federal lands where free dispersed camping is allowed. Of course boondocking most often means you are camping fully self contained, but can also mean you might have access to utilities but you are parked unconventionally, such as in someone's driveway.

Boondocking can be a creative quest to places unknown.

Two new adventurous options for different types of boondocking are:

http://www.boondockerswelcome.com/

This is a new group that is still forming with founding members getting special benefits. Sign up if you like what they have to offer.

Excerpt from their website:

At Boondockers Welcome you can connect with other RVers who have a location for you to dry camp for the night; it might be in their driveway or a field on their farm. The view may be of amber waves of grain or of the McDonald's parking lot... but it will be a free place to park where you don't have to worry about idling truck engines, security, or that dreaded knock on the window at 2 am.

Join the Boondockers Welcome online community to make new friends and save money while you see the world from a local's perspective. You'll have access to fellow members, be able to correspond with them securely, and accept their invitation to spend a night (or two) parked on their property. Ideally, you'll return the favor, extending a similar invitation to other travelers but, even if you don't have a place to offer in return, you'll be able to take advantage of the hospitality of others, saving hundreds of dollars in campground fees.

Join our community, share your stories, learn from other RVers, save money, and make some lasting friends.

Another unique boondocking site is
http://www.harvesthosts.com/

They feature boondocking on farms and wineries. The theory being that what you save on camping fees, you can splurge on local wines and harvest. Sounds like a great plan to me. We all need food and spirits.

Now these two websites gave me an idea to start my own organization for boondocking with others. I will be attracting craft folks, artists, musicians, intellectuals and senior citizens who have room for you to overnight on their property. In this way you might buy some art or music, enjoy cerebral conversation or the camaraderie of the senior crowd.

I figured this is a great way for the arts and crafts folks to peddle their wares. Many often live in remote places, ditto for musicians, scholars and let's not forget the seniors who might enjoy the vagabond company of RV-ers.

I thought I would call it Smart Arts and Farts. What do you think of that?

You can join now for free!

More information can be found in these interesting books all about boondocking, some are available on Kindle.


The Complete Book of Boondock RVing: Camping Off the Beaten Path	The Tiniest Mansion - How To Live In Luxury on the Side of the Road in an RV	BOONDOCKING: Finding a Perfect Campsite on America's Public Lands	RV Boondocking Basics: A Guide to Living Without Hookups

Smokeless

2012-05-11T23:31:00.001-04:00

Kiss Me!

Harley and I are settling in. Everything is a big mess but we will sort it all out. Well, I will sort it all out, while a certain little puppy dog drags his tether around creating havoc.

Aw shucks, the internet just crapped out. Well, that's life, something always going wrong somewhere. No telling when this will get posted.

We have moved outdoors and it feels great! But the night time temperatures have suddenly dropped to the late 40's at night.In May! In the south!

I have had to heat up the bed with the mattress warmer and run the heat at night. I dragged out my bluejeans to press into use. I haven't owned bluejeans in over 25 years. Towards the end of winter I found some on super sale that fit me. This was amazing, as usualy long pants require me to hem them up substantially. It feels good to have jeans again. Especially in this cold snap!

There was just no need for them in the Caribbean where I wore sarongs and sun dresses or work shorts when I was working at sea. If it was too cold for shorts, then I put on foul weather gear. It was so nice to just have a wardrobe for two seasons. Hot and warm!

Now I've had to amass a small wardrobe for cold and super freezing cold. I honestly don't know how the northerners do it. I don't think I could stand the freezing cold for very long.

Small wonder that Florida swells up into a traffic nightmare in the winters.

This workamping came with a huge level patio about 40 by 30 feet. I am able to park my wheel estate on it, with nice walk around room on three sides. The fourth side of course opens to the large patio that came with a fire pit and a table height grill built-in.

Tonight I built a fire since I arrived with fire wood strapped to my cargo carrier. It was leftover from camping at other parks. So I threw together a fire which Harley and I enjoyed while I tried to more or less work.

He managed to toss his golf ball down the hill in the dark. Then he pitched a fit, wanting to drag me out to go look for his toy in the dark. I finally distracted him with treats. *sigh*

Then we went to bed. The fire appeared to be naturally dying out.

Ha! It went from dying down to creating a mountain of smoke. *COUGH* COUGH* COUGH* So now puppy dog and I are outside with a flashlight, poking around in the dark, dragging the water hose over to finally put the fire out.

Well it was fun while it lasted! Smokey the bear would be proud of us, we drowned our lovely fire so we could sleep smokeless.

Here we are at "B" in Gumlog, Georgia. Gumlog is famous for moonshine mills. *Hiccup* Several are on display around here. *Hiccup*

A closeup of us at "B" on Lake Hartwell. You can see how and why the lake has a 1,000 mile shoreline. I used to sail back in the 80's in the southern part, where it's called the Big Water.

Notice the dark greenery surrounding the lake shores? That's because the US Army Corps of Engineers has strict regulations in place to protect the trees.

On Lake Hartwell are:
Federal Campgrounds
Georgia State Park Campgrounds
and
South Carolina State Park Campgrounds

Light Housekeeping

2012-05-10T20:11:00.002-04:00

Some days I must be a blathering idiot. Fortunately this often provides entertainment for unsuspecting strangers. Tuesday while talking to a couple in their golf cart which had 2 dogs in a playpen in back, I told them I arrived here last week.

They looked extremely puzzled, as they drive down here daily. "Here" being my new/old workamping assignment on Lake Hartwell in Georgia and South Carolina. I am pretty close to the border, but on the Georgia side near I-85 in northeast Georgia. So hint-hint if any of you plan to be in my area, email me and stop by for a visit or a pot luck meal or iced tea or coffee or to play with the puppy, which we love friendly canine and human visitors too.

I realized why the couple looked so puzzled. I had in reality only been here TWO nights, but I told them I came last week! Life has been so chaotic that it truly felt like I had been here over a week.

Imagine that.

May 1st, I showed up for a new workamping assignemnt, that was to last the month of May. But there was a huge problem. I had read the Workamper Handbook numerous times before arrival, so I practically had it memorized. It stated "perform light housekeeping" as one of the numerous duties.

At 7am, they pounded on my door to tell me I needed to start cleaning the 8 public campground bathrooms and showers in 4 different buildings, then repeat again in the afternoon. I could have Tuesday or Wednesday morning off but not both.

I was a tad shocked, as this wasn't covered in the Workampers Handbook at all! That person (and four more throughout the next 2 days) pointed out this was the "light housekeeping" mentioned in the handbook. To sweeten the deal, I could have Tuesday and Wedneday mornings off, working only 5 days a week, but not this week, that would start next week. Otherwise it was 5 mornings and afternoons per week. This was in addition to the other listed campground host duties.

No pay, just a small place to camp with utilities was provided in exchange for the "volunteer" work. I explained that had this been spelled out in the handboook (they did supply it before I agreed to do this) that I would not have signed up to be a "volunteer". I know what 700 campers can do to public bathrooms and showers, expecially when kids are left alone to make a mess (because someone else will have to deal with it besides the parents) so there is just NO WAY you can disguise this as "light housekeeping" with no further details.

I politely told each person in authority I encountered, they should spell this out at the top of the workamper assignments since it was major and time consuming.

While I don't want them to knwo my medical details, I do tucker out easily. If I could perform hard labor on a regular basis, believe me I would still be working on gogeous yachts at sea.

True, in my younger days and in superior health, I did do gruelling labor aboaord sailing yachts for 12-16 hours a day, 7 days a week. I hated leaving that career because I loved it, but let's face it, you've got to be in great shape to do that kind of work. Due to health issues, I won't bore you with, I can't do that anymore, sad to say.

So my workamping of one month ended in less than 2 days. We decided to part company "amicably". Now they wanted me off their property even though I had done all my other assignments. I mentioned I had come over 600 miles to workamp, perhaps I could have one more day to make up a quick plan. They agreed, but weren't overly happy about it.

So much for settling in for a month! I had to break camp, once again. Luckily, I was able to arrive at my next workamping assignment a month early, so *WHEW* disaster was averted. More or less.

In the interim I visited friends for one night (parked in their driveway) then we went camping for a whirlwind 24 hour trip. I misunderstood and thought we were going for 48 hours.

That's when the super moon hit and things started breaking and malfunctioning. My motorhome is still in total disarray, just like my brain.

But I was welcomed back at this new/old repeat workamping with open arms and a ton of paperwork. While there is light physical activity involved in this assignment, there isn't any heavy duty janitorial work.

Honestly how can you describe the daily cleaning of 8 different bathrooms with shower facilities servicing up to 700 campers with no sewer hookups as "perform light housekeeping" with no further details? That park was sold out every weekend and most weeks, with 2-6 people per lot. I mention the no sewer hookups, because typically in the non-sewer parks, most everyone uses the public restrooms and showers on a pretty regular basis.

And it ain't always pretty either.

This particular park doesn't allow any trash bins in the restrooms, using hot air for hand drying. Matter of fact, the only trash bin is located outside the camping area, no where near any of the "comfort stations" which is their official term for the bath and shower houses.

You can imagine what some folks do with their shower garbage, soap wrappers, empty bottles, lady personal products and so on. They just toss that in the floor, rather maddening. The other crazy thing, is they don't even provide rubber gloves, you have to buy your own. I found this out when I asked if they provided a body condom as a way of making a joke, which earned me a tiny chuckle from the supervisor. He said "Um, no" so I said well "At least you provide rubber gloves?" and this was met with "Um, if you need those, you can buy them I suppose." I had noticed the hired (read that wage earners) cleanup crew was working without gloves and I thought this rather strange.

Maybe I am just being picky over wanting rubber gloves for cleaning public "comfort stations"?

I use robber gloves to clean my own motor home. Cleaning chemicals can and do have adverse reactions. Yes, that stuff is absorbed through the skin. It may not have immediate effects, but it does have long term effects. Also, public baths and showers are notorious for not being "germ free".

The camping lot provided was rather smallish. There wasn't room to set up my table and chairs outside unless I wanted to sit at a severe angle on a hill. It did come with a sewer hookup, the only one in the campground, so ironically, I could use my own bathroom and shower in my own wheel estate. I could have dealt with the camping lot, but I am just pointing out there were no perks with this position at all. Not even laundry facilities.

My last winter workamping assignment turned out to be double the work, than promised when I signed up. But I stuck around and did it anyhow, because it wasn't heavy labor and I wanted to be in Florida. It was a more or less a happy situation with good folks. It was also gorgeous and the camping lot was huge.

But this one for May, I finally admitted to all concerned that I had made a MEGA mistake in misunderstanding their idea of "light housekeeping".

When I left, I impressed upon them the need to change their handbook to spell out the janitorial duties up front and at the top, since that was their main focus.

I also happen to know this particular park has had a hard time attracting and keeping workampers. I wonder why?

It's a shame that they were not at all interested in utilizing my 22 years experience in the hospitality industry, nor utilize any of my other numerous skills at all.

But, I am in a happy place now, where I am wanted, the workamping assignment holds no secrets, matter of fact last year I was commended for going well beyond my duties. They asked me back repeatedly, before I woke up and smelled the roses realizing I should say YES! So here I am, a happy camper.

Now I can worry about repairing all the broken stuff, which yesterday, the comments posted by Dan are VERY helpful about my transmission and refrigerator. I will write more on that later. Also, the comments on staying positive are a huge help. Loved the story about living in the stolen car!

Oh and yes, I stole my shoes back. Those raccoons figured out they weren't good for anything anyhow.

Now it's time for doggy and I to go on park and bark patrol, which we do on foot and paw. Yesterday, we noticed 14 boaters "forgot" to pay their boat launch fees. Amazing how forgetful folks can get.

Super Moon Me

2012-05-09T09:15:00.000-04:00

The super full moon the other night was incredible. I stared at it with unabashed awe.

But oh dear me.

Jumbys got me!

My wheel estate is suddenly sickly and I don't feel so hot either. Bad timing all around.

The refrigerator develpoed a serious fever and is running way too hot.

The transmission has sudden bad incontinence, peeing fluids without notice, but it is also constipated (has no movements...)

The generator had a stroke. It's alive but nothing works.

That Super Full Moon turned my puppy dog into a Wolf Man.

My shoes went for a walk without me and haven't been seen since. I thought I was doing so well in my daily life, to keep up with such mundane things as shoes on my feet. Did I just walk right out of them and continue onwards barefoot without a clue? I have no idea!

Then again... recently when I hosted a weekend camping party at Hunting Island Beach in South Carolina, I noticed at the end of the second day that my shorts were on inside out. I felt really foolish. No one had said a word about it. Were they being polite or did nobody even notice? Or... even worse, they figured since I was crazy, having my shorts on inside out all day long was par for the course and not worth commenting on. Either way, when I took them off at night to change into my sleepy-time shirt dress, I was appalled.

Other than that, all is good! Well, sort of. Someone that I thought for sure, liked me a lot, suddenly pounced on me for being TOO HAPPY. It was a classic case of "We're not happy until you're not happy".

Dang, that hurt! What's even worse, they kept pounding away at me, until OOPS! I wasn't happy. Daggum it! How did THAT happen? Well, now, they were HAPPY because I wasn't happy.

Good grief.

Why not just leave me alone in my blissful clueless happiness? What was wrong with that? I already had my arms full of madness and emergencies, but I was HAPPY about it, dealing with it.

Some days you're the dog, and some days you're the dog poop.

Sure I know I have lots of things to be unhappy about, but I don't think that way. I want to be happy and plow through the mess with a smile on my face.

What's wrong with being happy? Stuff breaks, life happens.

Blame it on the jumbys!

So what's a jumby? Well in Caribbean folklore, jumbys or jumbies or jumbees are devilish spirits or ghosts or minor demons. They sneak up on you and create havoc sometimes.

The Wolf Man and I are going for a walk in the rain. Barefoot. Maybe this will clear my head and I can figure out what to fix next.

Mountain Laurel

2012-05-08T19:59:00.001-04:00

Mountain Laurel

Without A Plan

2012-05-07T03:25:00.000-04:00

I recently recieved this text message:

Your pin number... keep it safe and enjoy living without a plan.

It was from a customer service rep, whom I had told not to send me a text, but he didn't listen to me or he didn't understand me or both because a few minutes later, his text arrived. Through some miracle, I figured out how to read it, but I am clueless how to reply to it. This one though, required no reply. At least I think not.

You see, I was dealing with customer service over a problem with my vanishing money. You know the type... you pay for a certain service or item, but never receive the item or service. Then when you call about it, heaven help you.

The customer service representative was located in some unknown place where the rep had just learned English last month.

Eventually we more or less agreed that the problem would be solved in a day or two or so. It was the most I could hope for. The torture of dealing with someone that I couldn't understand was bad enough, but apparently he didn't understand much of what I said either. Finally he announced he was sending me a text message. I told him I preferred an email. Oh well. Guess he misunderstood that too.

I am old school, I hate text messages, because I can't reply to them. I can call or email, but I can't text. I get too frustrated. But still I get text messages, like it or lump it, then I deal with it by replying with a phone call or an email.

I roared with laughter when I received his text message.

Your pin number is 68249643987128645 keep it safe and enjoy living without a plan.

Something was lost in the transaction as I can't believe the company meant for their customer service rep to tell me "Enjoy living without a plan..."

I have no idea what he meant to say or thought he said. Maybe he was psyhic and decided I was living like a gypsy without a plan. Or maybe he meant to say "Enjoy living without pain." Is that the same as "Have a nice day?"

Enjoy living without a plan.

Off The Map Off The Grid

2012-05-06T01:00:00.000-04:00

If you are reading this, then modern technology sometimes works for me too. Now isn't that rare?

I've gone off my rocker and it feels great!

I have driven off the grid, off the map to go commune with nature. No umbilical cords, just my little old wheel estate, surviving on her own. My internet and phone do not work where I am now. I am not plugged in to any utilities at all. So how am I sending this to you? By FM?

FM is an old joke... and it means Effing Magic, you can fill in the blanks for Effing...

Anyhow, I wrote this column in advance, then scheduled it to come out automatically at a chosen time in the future unless I edit it before the appointed time.

I am taking my GPS with me, I guess it will work just fine in the boonies. Maybe not. Time will tell, as I wrote this yesterday but you are reading it today. How cool is that? I have a compass and a puppy dog, so who cares if the GPS works or not.

I haven't boondocked much since I made a few upgrades to my wheel estate to enable living off the grid a bit more comfy for my chosen lifestyle. So this will be a good test.

The biggest drawback with my current setup is that the house battery which is a special deep cycle battery designed for running 12 volt gadgets, is very small. Most rigs have much bigger battery banks than mine, so they can do more between charges.

A deep cycle battery can be dragged down to almost dead before needing a recharge. A starter battery for your engine is only designed for a burst of energy to turn the engine over, which then recharges it with the aid of the alternator. It can not be dragged down to dead more than once or twice, or you will be buying a new starter battery in short order. Deep cycle batteries which are different from starter batteries, are often referred to as the house battery in an RV or boat. Deep cycle batteries come in all sorts of sizes, some giving you oodles of power, others only the minimal. Mine is a minimalist.

And that concludes today's battery lesson.

Well, I am off and running, well waddling... I don't plan on needing much use of any of my 12 volt gadgets, as I plan to be communing with nature as you read this now. Rejuvenating my battered soul. I'm not running away, I am just running to a better place for me and my spirit.

I recently made a BIG mistake, which I will share the juicy details with you soon. This is a good time to go seek the spirits in nature for consolation.

Sometimes my soul just needs to step outside the box, off the grid and away from modern life, back to a more or less simpler time, where nature is the focus and technological gadgets take a darkened back seat.

The Beauty Of Boats

2012-05-05T09:17:00.003-04:00

These shrimp boats look the same now as they did fifty years ago, and fifty years before that and... Not much has changed but the engines. These wooden ships are still maintained and launched. As a mere child, I remember coming here with my mother, to buy fresh shrimp, right off the boat as soon as it docked. We had an old metal cooler. The shrimpers would fill it a third of the way with ice then top that with shrimp then fill the cooler with more ice to protect our precious delectable cargo.

A trip to Hunting Island, South Carolina would not be complete without eating fresh shrimp. Once you've had shrimp fresh off the boat, you will wonder what they are selling you in the grocery stores. That fresh flavor is just a divine treat that makes your tongue and senses glad to be alive and savoring.

The sea's bounty has been good to this shrimper. He has his boat shipshape, ready for action in the wee hours of the morning. I could step aboard and never look back.

Have passport will travel...

I look at the boats and I hear the sea calling my name. Come aboard Miss Mermaid, come return to the sea, where you belong.

The years I spent at sea messing about boats were some of the best years of my life. Well, all my years were the best, but I am oh so thankful, happy and ecstatic that I seized the opportunity at a time when my body willingly and painlessly cooperated with the physical demands of life afloat.

I worked aboard sailing yachts, private boats, charter yachts, commercial fishing vessels, vintage tall ships, motor yachts and even one cruise ship.

The South Carolina working sailors of lore are credited with designing the Pawleys Island Hammock, the best hammock design in the whole wide world. Everybody should at one point and time in their life have the opportunity to nap or sleep in one. Laying on one aboard a boat is a treat that can't be described but must be felt.

Pray for more shrimp.

This quaint chapel is proudly maintained in the low country of South Carolina, preserved from the past, in use for the present and hopeful for the future. The sign out front simply reads "Art Studio". Perhaps the former parishioners have moved on to bigger temples.

Originally built before electric power lines marred the beauty, before encroaching road easements, sidewalks, extra lanes and a fire hydrant ate up her front lawn. The small wall seems to have been built as if to make a statement, that modern society isn't taking over one more inch.

THE END

Brave Enough To Try

2012-05-04T00:30:00.000-04:00

I haven't had much writing time lately, well I constantly scribble down notes on my stories and next novel, stuff you never see here. But life has been busy and I made a BIG mistake for which I am fastideously back-peddling to rectify. When I am down and dumpy, I seek inspiration. This time it was Dolly Parton. I've shared some of my favorites quotes here with you.

Dolly Parton
You'll never do a whole lot unless you're brave enough to try.

Dolly is a rags to riches dream come true. She has a unique way with words, besides writing songs and lyrics. She also has a fantastic attitude towards life.

DOLLY PARTON:
I wake up with new dreams every day. So the more I can do to channel that into things that I love to create is healthier for me and probably for everybody around me. And the older I get, the earlier I get up. The second my feet hit the floor, I`m awake. I`m like hurry, hurry. I just love life. And I feel like we ain`t got but a certain amount of time anyway. I want to make the most of all of it.

Ever since I read that, I too try to wake up with loads of enthusiasm. I may be slow and a bit cranky at first, but I putter around starting the day, sometimes as early as 4am, because I don't want to miss a thing!

Something I wrote last summer in a fit of confusion:

I've had my hands full lately. New hot water parts arrived malfunctioning, phone interuption (it was cut off) 100F degree heat wave, air conditioning flooding the camper with water since it was supposedly repaired, Harley injured, refrigerator handle sprung it's spring, awning ripped.

Good grief.

Small wonder I became behind on everything it seems, I hardly know where to start, but plugging away I go! Finally... more or less... somewhat... sigh...

I stmbled across bits of this unfinsihed post today, a year later, and decided to finish it. I look above and think, well here it is 10 months later. The hot water was finally fixed. It took me working on it, off and on several weeks. I've had the glorious use of hot water now for months. YAY!

Dolly Parton:
But to see the rainbow, you got to put up with the rain.

It's another heat wave in May but not as hot. After much prodding, the air-conditioner repair guy came out and admitted he had made a mistake. He repaired the flooding problem. I was cool as needed, the rest of the heat wave.

Harley recovered, but he bounces around so hard and fast that sometimes he still gets injured. It frightens me. He's my buddy. Like he was running for the ball the other day so fast, it smacked him on his head. He cowered, turning around looking terrified. I had to snatch him up, giving him loads of loving, to let him know it was a boo-boo.

The Dometic refrigerator handle has been replaced about 4 more times at my expense. This is ridiculous. Their spring is worthless. It's broken again right now. *Sigh*

The awning was more than ripped, it was stretched out, worn, torn, and only 17 years old when I finally mananged to replace it recently. I had sorely missed it for over 9 months, since I love setting up my folding chairs and table outside. I kept the old battered frame which was rebuilt with junk yard parts two years ago after a small disaster broke it beyond repair. Wow, time flies. It's fun to look back, compare it to now and do a little dreaming about the future.

Dolly Parton
We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.

It's unclear whether Dolly wrote or said this first or not, but it's oh so true.

For you non-sailors, I offer my humble explanation:

You can't always sail in a straight direct line to your destination, especially if the winds are coming from the direction you wish to go. This is called going upwind. But sailboats can't go directly into the wind, they have to veer off 30-60 degrees then tack their way to their destination by sailing in a zigzag pattern. Sometimes the winds and seas are so rough, that you can't even get that close to the wind, so you veer further off track or take down some of the sail, so the stronger winds can't slam you around so much.

I miss sailing on my little old boat, but I do love messing about in this old wheel estate.

Dolly Parton
I`m not going to limit myself just because people won`t accept the fact that I can do something else.

We can all learn to do a multitude of things. Don't let the naysayers be an excuse to hold you back.

DearMissMermaid.Com
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GPS Navigator Designed Just for RVers

2012-05-03T10:00:00.000-04:00

I've discovered the mother of all GPS's designed just for RV-ers. How cool is that?

Magellan and Good Sam have teamed up to produce the all-new Roadmate Pro 9165T, the GPS navigator designed just for RVers. With a huge 7-inch touchscreen display, the Roadmate Pro 9165T offers all of the premium features Magellan customers love, including the exclusive OneTouch Favorites Menu that lets drivers personalize their navigation experience with instant access to favorite destinations and searches. The RoadMate Pro comes with the extremely versatile Heavy Duty Extension Mount designed for vehicles with deep dashboards. It's fully adjustable for comfortable and safe viewing.

Is the ability to make safe, hands-free calls important to you? The built-in Bluetooth connection allows you to use your Roadmate as a speakerphone.

All of the U.S. and Canadian campground locations from the Trailer Life Directory as well as Good Sam Club discount locations are pre-programmed into the RoadMate Pro 9165T. This detailed information also includes where to find RV services, parking, and two million points of interest. It even identifies pet-friendly sites, so RVers can be certain their pets are welcome and safe when they pull into camp.

The RoadMate Pro 9165T offers customizable large vehicle/RV settings and will automatically adjust your route based on your vehicle's height, width, length and weight. This intelligent navigator can also plan routes based on the driver's preference, making your trip much more enjoyable and stressfree.

The RoadMate Pro 9165T has Free Lifetime Traffic Alerts to help you avoid traffic jams and delays. Your GPS Navigator will notify you of traffic incidents that are on your route and offer an alternative route. You are given a choice as to whether you want to continue or take the suggested detour. With Magellan Free Lifetime Traffic Alerts there are no subscriptions or hidden fees. Ever!

The Magellan RoadMate Pro 9165T GPS navigator offers superior navigation for safer driving. Become familiar with the route before driving it, and customize your route based on the size and demands of their large vehicle or RV. Hands-free calling and turn-by-turn spoken directions allow you to keep your eyes on the road.

In addition to safe and comfortable driving with the RoadMate Pro, when you arrive at Good Sam certified campgrounds and sites enjoy member discounts.

Magellan's RoadMate Pro is the ideal RV travel companion to make every trip uniquely yours.

What's in the Box

Magellan RoadMate Pro 9165T GPS Receiver, Pre-loaded maps of United States, Canada, and Puerto Rico, Heavy duty extension mount, Vehicle power adapter, USB cable, 12V AC adapter, Quick Start Guide

For more information and to have yours shipped to your campground or home, click here.

Sandy Dreams

2012-05-02T22:31:00.000-04:00

Some see sand in their shoes, sand under their nails, sand stuck on their towel. Others see a sandcastle in their near future.

Every time I hear someone say they are "waiting" for the real estate market to bounce back so they can sell their home and go traveling in an RV..." I feel so terribly sorry for them. It's the Hugo excuse all over again.

Waiting on a dream or making Hugo excuses?

We had the Hugo joke in the Virgin Islands back in the 80's, the 90's and even after the millennium. Hurricane Hugo nearly devastated St Thomas in the Virgin Islands. It became the excuse du jour for anything and everything. It became the joke du jour when years later, people were still hiding behind the hurricane Hugo excuse. It was a convenient explanation for not doing something. "Well, since hurricane Hugo hit..." was heard all over the island for weeks, months, years, decades!

After what's happened in real estate the past few years, is it realistic to pin all one's hope and dreams on such a frivolous idea? You might as well wait to win the lottery too while you're waiting on that real estate to "bounce" back. From what I can tell, real estate was artificially inflated so that everyone could go in debt up to their eyeballs in the hopes of making quick easy cash overnight. A few did. Many did not and will not. It was a hoax.

I am not sure at what point folks thought the sticks and bricks that provide them shelter was supposed to also magically provide a mega nest egg overnight, fulfilling their every dream. But why give up on the dream? Forget Hugo and find another way!

Or is this "bad real estate market" just another excuse not to follow their dreams. It's the house... it's the market... It's Hugo...

It's so much safer to stick with what you know than to plunge into the unknown or walk out on a limb to take the adventure. Why risk building the sandcastle of your dreams when the waves are only going to wash it away?

Because it's FUN. Creative playing at any age begets inventive thinking. Imaginative speculation very often leads to ingenious ideas.

You could spend a few weekends of blood, sweat and tears making your house a showcase, the prettiest one on the block so it does indeed sell for the most it can get. Or maybe you really don't want to travel, you just want to putter around the manse, the one that is now the most appealing in the neighborhood. Perhaps you already have your dream and just haven't realized that.

Perchance your actions will start a trend and the neighbors will upgrade their appearance with the end result the entire neighborhood looks so much better that everyone's values hold their own or even creep up a little.

Are you cursing the sand in your shoes or are you happily building the sandcastle of your dreams?


Sandcastles Made Simple: Step-by-Step Instructions, Tips, and Tricks for Building Sensational Sand Creations	From Sand Castles to Dream Houses: A Planner for Building or Remodeling Your Home

LARGE CASTLE MOLDS SOLD SEPARATELY	RV

On My Soap Box Today

2012-05-01T12:48:00.000-04:00

It's sometimes hard to remember to be thankful each and every day for all the wonderful blessings that come my way. I woke up at 3am in extreme pain, wondering what on earth is wrong. While I puttered around the wheel estate moaning and groaning, it occurred to me how lucky I am! Yes, lucky! I woke up alive, albeit in extreme pain. Another day, another gift and I am alive to enjoy it all.

Harley briefly slows down while romping around the beach, to let me snap this photo of his sheer enthusiasm for life.

We could all learn a lot from dogs.

I ponder the crazy wisdom of modern life, in that it's considered humane to put your beloved pet out of their misery through assisted death, but inhumane if you put a human down so they can stop suffering from their pain. It's mind boggling. Not that I am ready to be put down and out of my misery, but I strive through alternative treatments to live a pain-free life. This morning I am painfully reminded that isn't seemingly possible today. I must have done something wrong somewhere in my various alternative treatments.

If I could scrape up a small fortune (I wish!) to go meddle with the medical community again, they will gleefully prescribe me all sorts of pain pills and other life altering pills that have devastating side effects. Mostly pain pills slowly silently destroy the kidneys and liver, while causing a host of other undesirable problems. So it's my choice to live without the dangerous drugs. This drives the doctors crazy it seems. I did seek medical care recently, as I talked, the doctor sat their scribbling, ignoring my concerns and questions. Abruptly he stood up, told me he had written me 4 prescriptions then vanished out of the room. Consultation over. Part of my explanation to him, was that I wanted to find alternative affordable ways to treat my woes. I outlined my erratic monthly income so he could understand my reality, but I don't think he heard a thing I had to say.

An hour later at the drug store, the clerk tallied up my prescriptions then announced "That will be $460."

"Wh-wh-what??? Are you serious? Or is this an April Fools joke?"

She repeated "That will be $460" loud enough for everyone in the large store to hear, as if I was deaf rather than suffering from sticker price shock. I clarified the cost was for a month, not for the whole year, then after much questioning, which she seemed reluctant about, I chose one $12 medication, that *sigh* I more or less need for an emergency basis. The rest were so ridiculously priced, that even if they promised to send me over the moon in a rose laden sleigh made of gold, they could just keep them. She was irate at my choice. She angrily banged on the computer, completing my transaction as if I had thrown up on her designer athletic shoes.

As I was walking down the aisle, away from the drug counter, I overheard her say "That fruitcake doesn't want her drugs! We have to return these to inventory!"

I'm expected to spend $460 for drugs in her store and be called a fruitcake. How comforting.

On a side note, it appears she or someone programmed her computer to "get even" with me. Several times a day now, my phone rings from that drug store's computer reminding me to come pickup my medications. The ones I didn't want. The ones she said had to be returned to inventory because the fruitcake didn't want them. I wasted a good hour the other day, trying to figure out how to stop these computerized phone calls. I thought I had the problem solved, but today I noticed my voice mail recorded two more calls yesterday from their computer "reminding" me to come pick up my prescriptions. *sigh*

Isn't it great that modern technology can be used to harass your phone now?

The doctors can not, at least in this part of the country, prescribe an herb that has zero side effects and readily removes the pain. Yes, I am talking about marijuana.

How many overdose deaths are recorded each year from legal medications? Thousands!

The FDA claims only 82,724 deaths in 2010 were from "Adverse Events Reporting System" in other words, legal drugs that killed patients while using them. I think that number is very low and probably in reality, a great deal higher.

Source:

"AERS Patient Outcomes by Year," Food and Drug Administration (Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, March 31, 2010).
http://www.fda.gov/Drugs/GuidanceComplianceRegulatoryInformation/Surveillance/AdverseDrugEffects/ucm070461.htm

Do you know how many deaths we've had from marijuana use in the last 100 years?

ZERO!

A big fat zero. Not one death.

Oh but this wonderful herb is not legal to use except in certain tiny pockets of the country, where it is heavily regulated. Does this make sense to anybody because it makes no sense to me.

It's OK by law, to prescribe patients with drugs that can kill them, but it's not OK to prescribe them an herb that won't kill them. Is that not insanity or what? And this is supposed to be modern times yet our government has made this herb illegal. Thankfully many other herbs are legal, and do have a multitude of wonderful medicinal uses, but the one that removes pain and often as a "side effect" makes people happy, is deemed illegal. So what's wrong with being happy?

Happy people are HARD to control. Scared or unhappy people are very easy to manipulate. It's one reason I also try to avoid the in-your-face news that seems to pervade our modern society. It appears to me to be designed to keep the readers/listeners/watchers scared and depressed and therefore EASIER TO CONTROL.

So I smile. Sitting here by my lonesome at 3am, I plaster a big smile on my face and hold it. I feel like a grinning fool, but amazingly some of the pain pretends to go away.

Harley is so confused. Like a good little companion doggy, he dutifully climbs out of bed to come sit next to me at the dinning booth where I am typing. But then I get up and pace up and down the aisle, so he climbs back in bed, thinking I am going to land their next. When I don't, he wonders back to sit on the settee, snuggling up to my thigh again. But I can't seem to sit still, so I pace away and confuse him further.

Finally in disgust, he goes back to the bed in the rear, snuggling up to the afghan, since I am not there. He doesn't want to pace back and forth with me, between my spurts of writing. He has happily gone back to sleep, without me.

Now that it is 620am, (where does the time go?) I hear the birds singing and watch the first signs of the sun making an entrance. I figure it's always going to be a great day anytime the sun comes up on schedule. So far it's risen like magic everyday for a zillion years. Such a miracle.

The view from my desk of the sun rising.

Two to Nine

2012-04-30T08:53:00.002-04:00

I so hate skipping days and try to post once every day, but when the internet goes on the fritz, life happens and the post doesn't get out.

Hunting Island State Park Beach

South Carolina

On a fun note, besides having the internet flake out on me, my little camp site for two (one mermaid and a monkey dog) suddenly became nine, with three adults, four teenagers and two dogs. It seems some of my friends finally decided to accept my chronic invitations and actually SHOW UP in spite of the five hour drive required to do so.

I was thrilled, as was Harley dog, to have all the chaos and excitement. We cooked up a mess of great foods, including local fresh shrimp and awesome crab. We washed a mountain of dishes, swept 10 pounds of sand out of the camper, took numerous walks to the dump to keep the campsite more or less cleaned up. At night we spread out between my camper, a tent and a van. Of course both dogs had to share beds with humans, their choice, naturally.

Ironically, before the crowd, I had carried out the garbage finding a nearly new grill parked at the dump. I hauled it back to camp. When the visitors arrived, they immediately pushed it into service. What fun!

At one point we were out of eggs to make crab cakes to cook on the grill. We dispatched a teenager to see if they could go appropriate eggs from another camp site. Amazingly she came back with 3 eggs in short order. After the crab cakes were made, we sent some over to our surprised egg donor.

In between the nuts and bolts of camping and cooking, we romped on the beach from one end to the other. We spread out between fishing, crabbing, hiking, cooking, and creating general mayhem. There was never a dull moment. The first night, out of sheer excitement, we all sat around the camp fire until a ridiculous hour, being mindful to not break the "quiet hours" rule. We hoped no one would complain that we laughed too loud while trying to shush each other down to a loud whisper.

Oh to be a teenager again... it was fun to have them around, rather than feeling old, I felt rather young.

Above is my campground for one mermaid and a dog.
Below is campground for 3 adults, 4 teenagers and 2 dogs. The firepit has been relocated to the front of the campground. The tent has been put away.

Internet Flaky

2012-04-29T10:14:00.001-04:00

Internet is real flaky here, impossible to post... more later.