Mar 31 You know the old saying,
"If March comes in
like a lamb it goes out like a lion." We found out today how true it
is. We were up early and eager to drive down the mountain to Tom
Johnson RV, then over to graphic store to have our decal put on the
back of the coach. During our breakfast of shredded wheat and sliced
strawberries topped with warm milk and a dash of Stevia, we
reminisced as to how we had now been at Mountain Stream RV
Park
for a full month. Remembering how nice the weather had been and how
well everything
gone that first day of March 1st. I am certain that at this moment
neither of us
had a thought of that old saying in our heads. We hadn't moved for
almost three weeks, so out came the check lists, to be gone over twice,
instead of only once as we
normally would. Everything was going smoothly as I sat
down in seat to start the big Cummins diesel engine so it could warm up
to operating temperature before we pulled out. That was when
March changed from a lamb into a lion.
I inserted the key and turned it
to the pre-start position. Strange, I thought, no dash lights or
sounds. Maybe it's been so longsince I started it that I just forgot to
turn it far enough.
More turning of the key. Nothing. That was when the adrenalin kicked in
big time. Two or three turns of the key in rapid succession brought my
heart rate ever higher. Time seemed to stand still as I slowly got out
of the seat, stood, and turned toward Linda. "We have a problem.", is
all I said. She looked at me quizzically for a second, saw the key in
my hand and very matter of factly stated, "It won't start, will it."
Now reflect on the words, won't start, for a moment. To me
won't
start didn't begin to describe the problem we had. My concept of, won't
start,
implies it does something, but the result is the engine doesn't
continue to run. You know, dials move, the starter grinds, the engines
fires but doesn't keep running, something at least happens. Won't
start, wasn't the problem. Dead as a door nail more aptly
described
the
situation. Of course my response was all wrong as usual, but I said it
anyway, "I knew your playing the radio all the time was going to run
the battery down." Why couldn't I have said something like, "When I
turn the key
nothing happens." Which is exactly what I blurted out before taking
another breath. I think the term is, 'digging the hole, climbing in and
shoveling it all over yourself.'
In hindsight, I think Linda was too
shocked by the idea the engine wouldn't start to hear what I said.
Anyway, she asked, "Are you sure you turned the key all the way?" A
brief conversation ensued that resulted in my going outside and looking
at the headlights. No head lights, nothing. Then we remebered the
"Battery Boost" switch. As explained to us during our walk through and
as we knew from our previous RV, this is one of those 'good'
switches. It ties all the batteries together when one set is low to
give you the voltage you need. In our previous RV, it made a very
audible click sound when it engaged. We pushed the switch, no sound, ah
this is one of those big diesel motor homes, everything is in the back,
so no sound, I thought. With all the confidence of the perennial bench
warmer called upon to quarterback the "big" game, I turned the key as I
held the switch down. Nothing, nada, zip.
Think I was worried before,
now I was really worried. What to do? Was there enough battery to start
the generator? If so then maybe the engine would start. Never mind that
we we were hooked up to shore power. That the generator starts off the
coach batteries. We're talking pressure here. Major league pressure. At
least I had the presence of mind to unhook the shore power before
trying to start the generator, smile, though the energy management
system should have taken care of it. Push the switch and nothing
happens. Deep breath, collect wits, pause, think. Push battery boost
and push generator switch. Nothing. Think hard. Long time since we
started the generator, suddenly remember switch goes two ways. Down to
prime, up to start. Think, well it sure ought to start since I primed
it twice, smile, if I now push up on the switch. Sounds! Sounds!
Sounds! The generator is cranking. Tries to start, fires a couple of
times, doesn't catch. Stop, deep breath. Think. Okay, no battery boost,
that's okay, almost started, lets try it again. Once more, no battery
boost, down to prime, light on, up to start, cranks, sputters, starts,
whoopee!!!! I got something to run, the day is looking better. Let the
generator run for about 10 minutes, everything looks good. Try key,
nothing, try battery boost, nothing. Bummer and double bummer.
Since the cell phone doesn't work in these mountains we have to use
the phone at the upper end of the park. You can make local and 800
number calls, so Linda gathers up the phone number for the Monaco tech
line and our coach number and goes over
to make a call. This way I can serve as the 'gofor' in case they tell
us to try something. The call is a brief conversation that
includes some eye rolling by Linda and the call is completed. She was
not on the line to a service tech, just the person that answers
the phone. She is told to call back in about ten minutes. Said it
was interesting because the first question they asked her was, "Are you
safe?" Wanted to know if we were on the road or off it in a safe place.
Guess that means our problem could have been a lot worse. We
go back to the coach, I get out the coach manual and start looking for
the magic elixir. Don't find it, but looking for it kills the ten
minutes.
Back to
the phone we go. This time Linda is put on hold for a while until a
tech becomes available. She starts speaking and from her smile I can
tell it's a real live person, one who may know something. Hear her say
we had pushed the battery boost switch and nothing happens. Lots of
okay's on Linda's end. They she asks the persons name in case it
doesn't work, whatever it, is. Mike is his name plus she gets his
extension number.
As we
return to the coach she tells me he said to push and hold the battery
boost switch down for a minute before trying to start the engine, that
gives it enough time to charge the batteries. Doesn't really sound
reasonable, but then a drowning man will even grab at a straw. I push
and hold the button, Linda stands behind me staring intently at her
watch. Finally she says it's time. Reluctantly I let up on the switch
and slowly reach for the key. It was almost as if I didn't want to turn
it. Finally my fingers came in contact with the key. Slowly very it
turns. Dead silence. Try once again, nothing. Think maybe if I hold
down the switch and turn the key it will work. Same dread, same
result.
I look
toward Linda and see her already heading for the door. Another
conversation with Mike the tech. They will dispatch a truck to get us
started. Linda is to call back in ten mutes to confirm a truck is on
its way. Decide to call Tom Johnson RV to let them know we will be
late. Linda hangs up without saying anything. It was an answering
machine and believe me, even though we have used an answering machine
for years, she wont talk to one, smile. Suggest it might be a good idea
to leave a message, that way we may still be able to take the coach
down today. She makes
the call. The ten minutes is up, once again it's time to call
Monaco. Yes a truck has been dispatched, should be there within a half
hour. By now it's after 8AM, so call Tom Johnson RV again. No problem,
bring it down as soon as you can they say. If it's going to be a while
give us a call before you leave.
Walk back to the coach, look out window and see a red truck circling the park road. Know it doesn't belong to a camper, maybe
it's the service truck. Indeed it is. Truck stops and we meet Ray who
works for H&A Towing in Marion. Right off we like Ray, a big man
with a jovial laugh and a confident manner. He asks a couple of
questions, asks me to try to start it, nothing, try the battery boost,
nothing.
Goes to
his truck and gets a rather large battery charger and then a small
generator. Hooks it up. Batteries are dead, very dead, Starts
generator, plugs in battery charger, connects cables, says now try it.
Nothing, not even a tiny peep.
Touches hand to chin. Tells us our battery is very dead. Lets it charge
for a while, says now we're getting something. Shows me the meter
on the charger, has a small flicker. At least life hasn't been
extinguished yet. I notice the yellow marker lights on the side of the
coach are flashing. More signs of life. Ray says try it again. Turn the
key, lights light, buzzers buzz, jacks retract, lights blink and blink
and blink. All this noise is supposed to stop. Why isn't it stopping?
Decide to turn key anyway. Nothing, no engine sounds, just the blinking
lights and raucous sounds. Ray says, well he will just put the jumper
cables on and connect the engine batteries and the house batteries
together. I watch as he attaches the jumper cables. I think,
isn't that what the battery boost switch is supposed to do? Ray says
now it should start. I go back into the coach and with a deep breath
turn the key. As before there are lights
alight and buzzers buzzing, lots of blinking more blinking. Acts the same as before, why isn't to stopping? Decide to
turn key anyway and again nothing happens.
Ray comes up front, says there is one more thing to try and if doesn't work we've got a real problem. This is what you call the
good news, bad news statement, lol. Figure I'm going to let the man
alone as whatever it is, it is better to make sure he has his full
attention on what he's doing. Sit down at the computer and start
writing even though I really don't feel like it. Time was once again
standing still. Ray came back to the coach and instead of asking me to
start the engine, quickly sat in the seat and turned the key, Engine
sounds, engine sounds, not just a starter cranking, the roar of a big
400 HP diesel, hooray, hooray with peanut butter, chocolate and sugar
frosting on it.
Before I
can even ask Ray how he did it, he's out of seat and down the steps.
Later he explains he used the 60 amp boost and it can only be on for a
minute at the very most. "Let it run for a while and you should have no
problem driving down the hill", he says, Adding "It would be best
if you don't turn the engine off until you get to Tom Johnson's".
Everything is working, we sign the papers he has and he leaves.
Suddenly
Linda sends our joy crashing to the ground. "We can't bring the slides
in with the engine running.", she says, not too calmly, but at least
she wasn't yelling, smile. I see Ray's truck down near the pavilion.
Maybe I can catch him . "No you can't" she says, "he's gone." Now I'm
no Jessie Ownens or Bob Hay's and I'm certainly not one of the drugged
up sprinters of today that pretend to follow in Jessie and Bob's
footsteps, but over the next few seconds there was one posed man
running down the road after that truck. Reflecting back, there I was
running at full speed, waving my arms and yelling and never missing a
step. You just don't know what you can do until you absolutely must do
it. Just before turning onto the highway the truck slowed and I was
able to catch up with him. Turns out that he had lust overheard on his
scanner that the house next to his was on fire which was why he
stopped. We talked for a moment, I said if he wanted go check on his
house I would just see what would happen when we turned off the engine.
He insisted on coming back to the coach. Quickly we retracted the
slides and resolutely turned the key The engine started right up,
but as it did,
suddenly there is a loud blast from the air horn. My hand turns the key
off so fast it practically smokes, smile. That's all we need, to have
the air horn blaring away in the morning I was thinking. Once again
Linda came to the rescue, "It's so happy, it's tooting its own horn.",
she says. I had to laugh and the tension of the past couple of hours
was swept away.
As Ray
was getting ready to leave again, the scanner started squawking its
unintelligible sounds. He put it close to his face, listened, then
smiled and said, "Good news, it wasn't the house next to mine. It was
an old trailer down the road a ways." Maybe things are looking up all
around, I thought. Linda went over and called Tom Johnson RV again to
let them know we would soon be on our way. I drove very slowly down the
mountain. An uneventful trip except when I was rounding the sharpest
blind corner of the trip, the thought hit me, sure hope I don't meet a
truck here. The thought was still dangling at the edge of my mind when
I caught a glimpse of a huge blue logging truck coming at me. Several
less than happy seconds later it was past. Guess this day was still not
done acting like a lion, smile. As we came up to the light at Rt-80 and
70, there were construction vehicles everywhere. There were flagmen
stopping traffic, there were very, very long lines of vehicles backed
up in both directions. However luck was with us. Just as they allowed
traffic to pass in the direction of Tom Johnson RV, the light changed
allowing us through. Not all things are going against us I thought, of
course at that same moment we came upon the entrance to Tom
Johnson's.
There are
two entrances, the first one is a straight shot into the sales lot and
back to the service area. The second requires you to make a sharp right
turn, go through the congested front car parking lot, then make a sharp
left turn in order to go back to the service area. They were working in
front of one of the two entrances. You can guess which one. The March
lion was striking again. Now, not only did I have to turn into the
difficult drive, there was also a dually pickup coming right down the
center of it. I did what anybody driving a 38' long 33,000 pound RV
would do. I turned in. The pickup quickly started backing up and gave
me plenty of room. That was a lesson remembered from the RV driving
school. Sometimes you just have to "impose your will." Soon I was
safely parked in the service area. As we entered the service area
office, everyone, and I mean everyone was smiling or laughing and
saying , "Well, you made it", or something to that effect. Went
over what was on the list we had brought, they wrote up the service
order, we spent some time in their store area, spent some money on
holding tank chemicals, checked on the coach and left for a while.
Went to
the Walmart to get wrapping paper for the presents we had bought last
week. The wind was really blowing as we drove to the back of the
parking lot. Time to wrap presents. Parked the Explorer so we were
somewhat in the lee of the wind, which was now blowing so hard I had to
hold the door open so Linda could wrap. The paper was blowing all over
the place, she was getting more and more upset. I couldn't figure out
what was wrong. Finally she did. She had left her window down and the
wind was roaring in through it. Her tone as she told me to close the
window carried the impication it was my fault it was open. Who can
understand women? I did do one thing right. Instead of pointing out
that if she'd have bought the wrapping paper last week when she bought
the presents, (you know where I'm going) I just kept my mouth shut,
smile.
Eventually the gifts were wrapped, we made a quick stop at Subway for
turkey on whole wheat and baked chips, then to the Post Office,
next, groceries and soon we were on our way back to Tom Johnsons. They
were still working on our coach, so naturally we looked at the coaches they had for sale. It once again confirmed our lengthy shopping experience and our conclusion
that the Endeavor was the coach that best fit our needs and budget. In
amongst all this we spent a good bit of time talking to the techs who
had worked on our coach. Turns out there is no battery maintainer on
the Endeavor, so if it sits long enough the battery will slowly run
down. Second, the battery boost switch did not tie all the batteries
together. When the fuse for the battery boost circut had been installed
at the factory, the fuse had twisted slightly and the bottom prong had
not made contact with the fuse holder. This meant we had an open
circut, the same as a blown fuse. It worked perfectly now. I thought
how stupid it was that one moments inattention at the factory caused
Monaco to pay for the service truck call and the work to fix the
problem. We felt comfortable they had taken care of our problems. They
had been unable to fix the closet latch and had to order another one.
The cheap plastic ones keep breaking and have been replaced with a
metal latch. They would order it, so we also scheduled a transmission
fluid change for the 17th.
Even
though it was getting late we decided to stop by the graphics store and
get the decal put on. Linda called before we left and they said come on
down. We get there and the fellow who does the installations is out.
The lion strikes again. The girl was very apologetic and other than our
being disappointed and the need to come come back down again, no harm
was done.
The
drive back to the park was slow and uneventful. But did we have a
pleasant suprise when we arrived back at the park, Roscoe and Carol,
the other work camper coupler had arrived. I teased Becky about us
taking a workday off so they had fired and replaced us, lol. Dessert
was peach cobbler warmed in the microwave and topped with ice cream. As
I scrapped the bottom of the bowl, I decided maybe March had gone out
like a lamb after all.
Mar
30 Was I mistaken yesterday about birds
everywhere. Today we had finch overload at the feeders. All the perches
on the finch feeder were full. Finches hanging
from the wires that
fasten the feeders to the branches, finches perched in the tree, guess
you could say there were finches here, finches there, finches
everywhere, even finches in the air. We witnessed arial combat taking
place. When an airborne finch tried to displace a perched finch, both
would suddenly be in the air wings fluttering, skittering with
thrusts and parrys like two dueling swordsmen. The males are definitely
molting, their bright yellow colors becoming more apparent by the day.
As we watch the "dog fights" take place we notice the perched bird
often has no yellow showing indicative of its being a female, while the
airborne intruder has the bright yellow coloration of the males. After
a few brief, but furious seconds, the clash is over and a bird is once
again occupying the momentarily vacate perch. Linda is always quick to
point out that it is a female who invariably alights on the perch.
Guess it is true that while men may strut their stuff, the woman rules
the roost, smile.
After a breakfast of oatmeal, smile, we cleaned up around the
coach, at
least Linda did, I worked on the web page, then gathered up our gloves
to start our work half day. The morning sky was cloudy but the air was
still, so it looked like today would be spent killing vegetation. We
got the equipment shed open when Becky came up and said we'd better
check with Ron before spraying. It was becoming obvious there is more
to this spraying business than meets the eye. Sometime later, after
checking the weather report and giving us more instructions on the
potential pitfalls that can befall the untrained or inexperienced
applicator, we made ready to attack those pesky weeds, stories of past
work campers experiences with this powerful herbicide fresh in our
memories. Like the couple that didn't pay attention to the warning
about not walking on the areas where they sprayed herbicide. This stuff
is so powerful that even the slightest amount on the sole of your shoes
will kill whatever it touches dead, as in dead dead for four years,
thats potent in my book. Anyway, this couple ignored what
Ron told them about how potent it was. And of course it took
a few days for what they
had
done to show up. Bet you've already guessed what
happened, yep, everywhere they had walked on the grassy areas was a
perfect set of brown grass footprints. Now it's bad enough to walk all
around the edges of where you're spraying, even the short cut you take
from one area to the next shows up, lol.
I
decided there was only one sure way to make absolutely, positively
certain that I didn't track any of that stuff somewhere it wasn't
supposed to be. I drove the golf cart and let Linda spray that menace
to any living plant, herbicide, smile. That deadly liquid is contained
in a plastic tank that permanently rides in the back of The Sound
& the Fury. Now TS&TF is technically a former golf
cart, but today we could nickname it, "The Engine of Death" or Ted for
short, lol. This was a learn as
you go project. Since we weren't told
how to do it, just how not to do it, we figured what the heck, anything
else we do must be okay. Anyone who's followed us during our brief work
camper sojourn knows when I think left, Linda usually thinks right and
when Linda thinks left, I'm usually daydreaming and don't have a clue
what to do, smile. Right off the bat we've got a problem. Seems we have
the trailer hooked up to "Ted" and don't think to unhitch it. We start
out to spray. Since I'm driving and we're not the world's greatest
experts in murdering vegetation (Actually
Linda has much more experience than I, as she was known as
'The Roundup Lady' at our house, often standing somewhere in the flower
garden with the bottle of Roundup® clutched in her hand,
fingers vigorously squeezing the trigger, dealing death to unwanted
plants, while yours truly was safely ensconced in the house, daring to
venture out only to snap a quick picture then quickly scuttling back to
safety before being enveloped in a poisonous cloud, lol. And me a
chemist by training, double lol.) we wanted to start out of site of the
office. That way Ron could only wonder if we were doing it wrong, but
if we had started down by the office he would know we were doing it
wrong. No sense in giving him apoplexy if we don't have to, smile.
After doing a couple of sites I was scowling and Linda was frustrated
when we realized it wasn't us, it was the stupid trailer. I couldn't
pull far enough into the site to let her reach all the areas with the
hose. Right there we unhitched the trailer and left it. Now the job
became much easier I'd pull into a site and she'd spray in front of me
and then try to keep me from running over the hose as I backed out as
she sprayed. Once again I was scowling, smile, as she seemed to miss
about half of the vegetation. Our task as outlined by Ron was to spray
anything that grew in the white gravel. I was beginning to think maybe
she was colorblind, no that couldn't be it, maybe she was just blind,
why can't she see all the plants she's missing? Several cryptic
comments and gestures pointing out missed area only exacerbated the
situation. To say we were a little tense was an understatement. Then I
finally got to thinking, maybe she's just as uptight over this as I am.
She's got the hardest part trying to spray but not let the spray drift
and kill something it shouldn't. Work with her, dummy. I start backing
all the way into the site to begin with, this makes it so I can't drive
over the hose. We do one side then back into the other side of the pad
and do it. We are now working together, what a change. almost before we
knew it we were all the way around the outside of the park. Only the
inside was left when we ran out of the Roundup.
We go to check with Ron
to get some more concentrate to mix up and he was out. Becky
shows us how to use the Ros2000,
the computer reservation system they and many other parks have. As we
are working on the system a really nice 40' Foretravel motor home
pulling a toad drives in. When Ron returns he discovers he is
out of the type of vegetation killer we were using so gave us a broad
leaf weed killer. We look at each other, shrug our shoulders and go out
to mix it with water in the tank. we realize one of the site they may
assign to the motor home is one of the sites we have been watering. We
gather up all the hoses just before the motor home comes up and starts
to park near the site we just removed the hose from. Made us feel good,
maybe we are starting to think the right way, smile. By the time we got
the solution mixed the wind had come up and we could no longer spray.
Ron had come back with the pickup loaded with soil (yes actual soil,
not dirt that needed to be sifted) so we filled in a number of low
spots in the center grass area. It was shovel, shovel, shovel, stomp,
stomp, stomp, rake, rake, rake and repeat the process. Linda found my
imitation of a vibratory roller so hilarious she took a photo of me
doing
my dance. Before we knew it, it was time to call it a day.
Spent the
rest of the afternoon cleaning up the coach in preparation of taking it
down to Tom
Johnson's RV in Marion tomorrow to get some warranty work
done. As we were cleaning we saw Ron using the tractor and roller to do
more of the same thing we were doing. Obviously we've still got some
learning to do, as
using the roller would make the job so much easier,
oh well, we got some good exercise, smile.
Looking
out at the bird feed
we saw a finch and cardinal perched in the tree above
the feeder. Truly
a Kodak moment. Dinner was Salmon Patties on whole wheat bread, and
excellent meal that still adhered to the principles of the South Beach
Diet we have followed for nearly a year now. (80 pounds lost between
the two of us, equally divided and kept off, smile). Later it was
relaxing with TV for Linda while I worked on the website. However,
Linda wasn't done for the day. last night we had eaten the last of the
soft chocolate chip cookies, so it was time to cook dessert. Always
thinking ahead, at least when it comes to dessert, we had bought some
peaches during our last trip to the grocery. This meant that the coach
would soon be filled with the smell of fresh baked, healthy, peach
cobbler. Cobbler to die for! Later, as we ate it still warm
from the convection/microwave oven, smothered in butter pecan ice
cream, the smacking of lips and screech of spoons scraping bowls clean
was heard.
Mar 29 Something new
this morning. Birds
everywhere. Birds at the feeders, Birds on the ground under the
feeders. There were even wild turkeys in the meadow across the stream.
Even saw a new species we had not seen before, a solitary purple finch.
He stopped at the finch feeder and feasted on nijer thistle
for a while. When something frightened the birds and they all flew
away, the
goldfinches quickly returned. We never saw the purple finch again.
While all this activity was taking place up at the feeders, on the
ground, the pair of doves who are regular morning visitors
worked at cleaning the area under the feeders. There seems to
be something here for each and every bird.
As I watched a movement caught my eye,
it was Ron in one of the sites at the upper end of the campground. At
first I thought he
was watching the wild turkeys across the stream, but
that was not it. He got back into the truck and slowly drove past a
couple more sites, again stopping and walking toward the end of the
site. This behavior was repeated several more times and as the truck
approached our site my curiosity got the best of me. Turns
out he had ordered the fresh gravel to be delivered to the park this
morning and he was checking which sites needed additional gravel.
Before long the truck drove in and fresh white gravel was appearing on
various sections of the park roads and sites. The driver spread most of
the gravel while backing or driving forward depending on the location.
When he left to get another load, Ron used the garden tractor with the
blade to do the final spreading. It was obvious from watching, this was
not the first time this particular job had been done.
We later found out they dress the gravel several times a year,
usually
in the early
spring and again in mid-summer in order to keep the park looking sharp.
Ron and Becky are rightfully proud of Mountain Stream
RV Park and as they proclaim, roads and pads are white stone,
all other areas are either flowers and plants in beds or grass so there
is 'no mud after rain'. As we watched through the coach windows we
could see the splash of white stone as it bounced and rolled into the
grass along the roads and pads. This is where attitude comes into play.
One point of view says this will mean 'stoop labor' to pick
all the
rocks up and the possibility of an aching back. The other point of view
looks at the job and sees the great exercise we're going to get, all
that bending is like doing "crunches", our stomach muscles will be
strengthened meaning our backs will not be nearly as likely to hurt in
the future. Attitude, one can be an optimist or one can be like this.
If you have never been to the despair.com website you're in for a
treat, here's
the
link. There are also a number of powerpoint presentations that have
been floating around the net for years based on these posters.
A search should turn them up.
Only too soon our oatmeal had been both savored as well
as
consumed, so we two intrepid work campers were heading toward the
equipment shed.
Just as we got there Ron came up. The man has a twinkle in his eye at
times and as he neared I could see it, plus the huge grin that
emanates from the corner of his mouth and spread completely across his
face. I was definitely getting an inkling there was something other
than spraying vegetation killer in store for us today. Quickly
we learned our fate.
Yes, it was too windy to spray and it would be put
off until tomorrow or later depending on the co-operation of the
weather. Yes, we
needed to finish raking and seeding the corner sites. But, and it was a
big but, the little tractor with the blade could only do so much
when it came to smoothing the gravel. What was required was hand work
wit
rake and shovel. No wonder he had a twinkle in his eye. He knows how much we love the exercise
we get from hard physical work and he had job
we would really enjoy for us today.
We loaded the trailer up with
rakes, lime, fertilizer, grass seed and other assorted implements and
attacked the thatch in the corner sites. We soon settled into a
routine. I raked and Linda picked up and disposed of the debris. We
used the spreader for the lime until the wheel fell off (the cotter pin
had rusted through), then spread a very light dressing of 10-10-10
fertilizer
and a 50/50 blend of annual rye grass and Kentucky Fescue by hand.
Next we drove back and got three water hoses and sprinklers which we
set up to water the majority of the five areas we had just seeded.
Linda's
precise placement of the sprinkles was a masterpiece of watering
efficiency.
Next it was time to unload all the seed fertilizer, etc and
load the shovels and rakes so we could attack the stone piles. At first
several sites we need to simply rake the
gravel in order to make it
both uniform in thickness and as level as possible. This took little
time and presently we were parked in front of our first rock pile to be
moved. I can assure you no king about to lay siege to a castle ever
studied his objective with more intensity than we did this pile of
rock. I'll grant you it may have been only 8 foot wide and one foot
high, but to us it was more than a pile of rock, it was exercise.
We just wanted to make sure we exercised our arms, legs and lungs
rather than our backs, smile. We each shoveled a while and raked a
while, breaking in our muscles without breaking our backs. It soon
became apparent I was much better suited to shoveling rock (something
that my former co-works will attest is an absolute truism) while Linda
raked with an easy stroke that quickly level significant mounds of
rock, yet didn't wear her out. Needing to move the rock further than
was easy to reach with the shovel, we brought the wheelbarrow into
play. I loaded, pushed and dumped while Linda raked. If we had been
constructed of metal we would have been a well oiled, highly efficient
machine. As it was, we were two aging boomers, well, technically one
very attractive boomer and an older guy who was born during the war,
getting some exercise on a beautiful spring morning in the
North
Carolina mountains. As I said earlier, this is where
attitude comes into play. Soon we had all the piles spread but we still
had a good
sized area to cover with
gravel.
One of the loads of rock had been
dumped in the stock area so we could use it to fill in as needed. How
could we get it to where we would need it? The obvious choice was to
shovel this rock into the trailer, then use the
garden tractor to pull it. Except the blade was still attached to the
tractor. It would be a simple matter pull a couple of pins and drop the
blade. Except we did not
know if Ron was having more rock delivered and so would need the blade.
Except that the only alternative was to use The Sound and the Fury.
Looking up, we saw it there before us, patiently waiting, ready to do
whatever was asked of it. Talk about a pleasant surprise. We emptied
the trailer and drove over to the rock pile. No backfiring, no bursts
of energy followed by coughing and sputtering, no flying gravel from a
jack rabbit start. It was like the wild beast knew it was being asked
to do the job of a Clydesdale singlehandedly pulling the Budweiser
wagon! Almost before we knew it we had a trailer load of rock where we
needed it. Now the question arose of how to unload it. I shoveled it
out, but not happily. Within minutes we were back with another load.
Linda came to the rescue. She suggested we dump the load, after all it
was a dump trailer. We pull the latch and it slowly tips,
gravel
piling up, but about 4/5ths of the load remains in the trailer. What to
do now? Linda again came to the rescue, brains and beauty what a
combination, by suggesting we just drive forward and maybe the rock
would just spread out the back. I didn't hesitate a second knowing
TS&TF would pull the load. It worked like magic and soon we
were done for the day. Unhitched TS&TF reverted to its old
self, but
it sure had earned the opportunity to show its wild side.
The rest of the day passed quickly, work on the webpage, then a tasty
meal at Pleasant Garden Baptist. Tonight it was country fried steak,
mashed potatoes, green beans and angel food cake topped with canned
peaches. Delicious, filling and eaten with good company. Later back at
the coach we called a halt to tweaking the new homepage and converted
over. We will be making some more changes, but rather than attempt to
achieve perfection out of the gate, we decided to put it in place and
add to it as we are able. Of course we still had to eat our dessert
which was the last of the soft chocolate chip cookies with a side of
butter pecan ice cream. All in all it was one of our best days yet.
Mar
28 Not all days are
exciting. They
are not all some grand adventure. Some are
simply filled with the
profusion of small incidents which make up life. That's what today was.
Breakfast, work, lunch, website, dinner, TV and dessert. It's almost as
if the excitement of the weekend, all the RV's, all the people, all the
activity, plus the trip to Spruce Pine
culminated in an
overload of our perception of life. Today didn't 'burst' to life
astride an iceberg like yesterday, nor did it announce the onrush of
spring with warm temperatures. It was 36º when I got up,
partly
cloudy with a few birds at the feeder. Like I said, it just was.
Breakfast would be oatmeal again since we again had fresh strawberries.
For some time now we have been using the "old fashioned" style of
oatmeal because we have been unable to find "thick" oatmeal. While we
are not experts on the subject of either oats, the grain, or groats,
the hulled oats that we eat, we do have the sum of no small amount of
experience on this subject. Over the years we have eaten a fair number
of different types of oatmeal, the oatmeal itself and the method of
preparation. Ranging from the gray glop that masquerades as oatmeal in
most restaurants to the light brown flecked, tan, aromatic, steaming
food fit for royalty that we have prepared on a frosty late fall
morning in the middle of the wilderness, we've had it all. This is a
subject I can spend paragraphs on, smile. Today is not the day however,
double smile (and lucky you, more smiles). In a few brief words, my
preference is, find the very thickest rolled oats you can (this isn't
the mashed garbage Quaker sells as "old fashioned", you want something
that was loved and caressed by the rollers, not mangled and mutilated.
Oats comes from the field to the mill to the roller to you. It don't
need no stinkin' prooocesssing to make it better. Simply said, that's
what I like. I know many people , to put it delicately, dislike
prepared oatmeal.
Along this line of thought, there is a famous reference in literature
to oats:
Dr.
Samuel Johnson who wrote the first universally accepted dictionary of
the English language included this disparaging reference as
part of his definition of oats:
A grain, which in
England is generally given to
horses, but in Scotland supports the people.
His biographer, James Boswell, a very wise man in his own
right, commented:
Which is why England is
known for its horses and
Scotland for its men
Just a little thought for the day, smile.
And as an aside, the writings
of men like Johnson and Boswell are something we are exposed to,
however
fleetingly during high school, usually in a boring literature class,
and is then
quickly forgotten for the rest of our lives (but not if you had Mrs.
Jones as
your teacher, for which I am eternally grateful). A search of the web
will turn up their writings which can be a real treat to read in those
quiet meditative hours I take and advocate others to take during the
day.
Just
a short time ago we were talking about what constituted an excellent
bowl of oatmeal and look where we are now. That's why I find life so
interesting, it's all how you approach it. Soon it was time to
figuratively punch the old time clock. We wanted to try starting to
work somewhat on the schedule that we will be on when the park starts
getting busy. That meant emptying all the ashes from the fire pits
today. In jiffy quick order we had The Sound and the Fury hooked up to
the trailer, two metal trash cans and both the small and large shovel
loaded and were driving up the park road checking fire pits. Today was
much easier than the last time.The ashes were not water soaked, the
driver of TS&TF stayed close to the fire pits full of ashes and
a
spirit of co-operation filled the air. The last time had taught us (me
in particular) a lesson. We took turns scooping out the ashes, I
carried the can from site to site and almost before we knew it the job
was done. A side benefit was the fire wood we collected which had been
left at several of the campsites. Linda is going to have her fire more
than once. Or twice or that matter. Look for more tales of pyro-mom
coming soon, smile.
Next we replanted another damaged barrel. As before, there was good
soil on top and dirt on the bottom. Getting lazy we used a wheelbarrow
to hold the Hosta's and the soil, then dumped the dirt from the barrel
onto a tarp. Just to show you we're not perfect we forget get the
barrel from the stock area when we brought up the tools. TS&TF
speedily (and noisily, smile) carried us on our journey. Then
we had the wrong size drill bit but Linda just drilled a
couple more holes than
before, smart girl. Almost before we knew it we were trying to decide
what to do with the remaining Hosta plants.
Finally decided to put them
up at the far end of the campground by the pump house. In between this
we had also checked the bathrooms, which were okay, though we plan to
clean them tomorrow. We finished out the day by replacing a rotted
landscape timber in the bed next to the bathhouse. Ron had just noticed
it. Why we hadn't I don't know because once he showed us where it was,
it stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a full length timber so no
cutting was necessary, drill and nail. Sounds simple. It wasn't. There
were bushes hanging over the spot where the timber went, and the
railroad tie we needed to nail it to was the densest, hardest tie we
have ever encountered. I ended up using multiple blows from the sledge
hammer to drive that piddly little 60d nail as Linda held the bushes
back. Anyone watching us would wonder who those incompetents were.
Supper was the last of the spaghetti sauce with Bob Evans sausage. Next
came NCIS. We really love that show. The way the writers give reality
to the interplay between the main characters is wonderful. Next came
the third week of The Unit, to which I'll say it improves each week. We
couldn't get all the way through the Amazing Race, which is starting to
grow really stale as its just the same thing week after week and fairly
predictable. I call it Booooring. So after soft chocolate chip cookies
with soft butter Pecan ice cream (anything but boring) we called it a
day and turned off the snoozing race. Like I said, nothing special,
just a day that was.
Mar 27 While we slept the ice age moved
in. Another
24º morning. Wasn't expecting it, didn't disconnect
the
water hookup, puddle of water on ground suggests
something is not
right. So much for the new super duty brass wye we bought to replace
our previous cheap wye. Remember, the one that split apart the last
time I forgot to disconnect the water when it got down to 24º
that
night also. There seems to be a pattern forming here that doesn't look
so good. The best solution would be to make Linda in charge of the
water hookup. That way when cold weather is predicted she would know
and could go out and unhook it. That would stop this broken fitting
problem we have. Their might be a small problem in convincing her that
this course of action would be in both our best interests, smile. Guess
the safe and sane way of handling this problem is for me to disconnect
the water any night it is either predicted to be 33º or less,
or
Linda tells me to disconnect the water. She also suggested a
heat
tape. Will pass on the heat tape for now. For now my watchword will be
(with apologies to Paul Revere), unhook if by night and hookup if by
day, smile.
While all this was going on Linda busied herself with fixing breakfast.
When I came back into the coach the smell of oatmeal cooking filled the
air. This puzzled me because we didn't get any fresh strawberries
yesterday at the grocery store. The answer was, there were still some
frozen berries in the freezer and we would be eating those on our
oatmeal this morning. Actually we eat our oatmeal over the frozen
berries as the hot oatmeal then defrosts them. The berries also have
some cherries mixed in, so for frozen as opposed to fresh they are very
good. That woman can even make frozen food taste great, lucky aren't
I?, smile. Just before we were getting ready to leave to go to Spruce
Pine, Becky knocked on the door. Tom Johnson's RV was on the phone
letting us know all the parts had been received that had been ordered.
So it's a go for Friday morning to get some more work done on the
coach. Will provide a detailed update of our expectations and the
actual experience at that time. Today the good was they called to say
the parts were in, the bad was they couldn't find our appointment in
their log until I told them the time, date and technician name who was
scheduled to do the work. Life ain't always perfect. Let's hope for a
bright ray of sunshine on Friday.
The trip to Spruce Pine was uneventful. Well there was the lane closure
on Rt-80 for debris removal, then the small herd of deer we saw along
the parkway and the
beautiful views of the snow covered mountains in the distance aand even
snow right along the Parkway. No pictures because we were on a fresh
strawberry run, will get some on the return trip. Also noticed more
traffic on the Parkway than before. Can only imagine how busy it must
be during the vacation season. Our first stop was the SuperCenter and
as always, just ahead after the nice lady gives you a cart is the
display of fresh strawberries. The ones today looked really good.
Though they were large, they were a uniformly deep red color. Just the
way we like the larger berries. Now that the berries were in the cart
the question was raised, what else did we come for. An electric
blanket! So to the back of the store we went. Zipping up and down the
bedding aisles, heads swiveling back and forth like NORAD radar
antennas at the height of the cold war, lol. But just like the antennas
never detected the wave of bombers or missiles that would signal the
start of WWIII, our search for the elusive electric blanket was also in
vain. Oh well, there is always mail order. Heading back up to the front
of the store we stopped at the Easter goodies to get something to send
to the grandchildren. We also have birthdays coming up in the family.
Some purple things caught our eye, something special for a special
little girl!
Our next stop was the laundromat. As before, a visit to the laundromat
is a sociologists dream. Today we observed the philosophy of the full
washing machine. Another
possible name for this approach is - Even when the washer is full it's
not full. The last time we were here we used two of the smaller front
loaders. Each load cost $2.75. Today she was loaded for bear, walked
right up to the jumbo giant $4.75 a load front loader and started
stuffing things in. "Don't worry", she says,"it will hold everything."
In went sheets, blue jeans, sweaters and sweat suits, shirts, towels
and dainties. Her arm resembled the beam on a oil well pump as it went
in and out of the washer. When she finished I realized she was as good
as her word and everything fit quite easily.
After the soap had been added, the coins inserted and the machine
started I noticed the machine beside ours. The clothes in ours were
rotating, water was splashing, suds showed. It looked a washing machine
washing clothes. Not so the one beside ours. If our was a whirling
dervish, this machine was a giant ground sloth. The clothes in this one
barely moved. It acted like it was moving in slow motion. I watched for
five minutes and only saw the same blue and red pattern through the
window. Ours on the other hand, changed constantly as the clothes
rotated and tumbled past the window. This machine had been running when
we came in. When we started I noticed ours showed more time to the end
of the cycle. At the 10 minute mark they showed the same time. When
ours stopped the other machine was still running. Is it possible to
pack a space to the point that time stands still? How else to explain
the phenomenon I had just witnessed.
I had finished putting the clothes into the dryer and had
returned to my observation post, i.e., seat, when a young women came in
and opened the door of the time machine. She grabbed the red cloth I
had observed for the longest time in the window of her machine and
pulled. A small part of an item of clothing appeared. She tugged
on it hard and a small bulge appeared in the mass of clothing fastened
solidly in the opening left where the door of the machine had been. It
was obviously not going to come out of the machine easily. With much
tugging, upward, then downward, then repeating the sequence, the blouse
was finally freed. The tangled mass showed no hint that an article of
clothing had been remove from the machine. She continued to remove one
stubborn item after another. One pair of pants even required the
addition leverage obtained by planting her foot on the side of the
machine. Finally as she repositioned herself to wrest a particularly
entangled towel our eyes meet. Her sheepish grin begged a comment.
"That's what I call a full load of wash", I casually mentioned. The
face slightly reddened and she answered, " My boyfriend filled it. It
can hold a lot more than you think. When the clothes get wet there is
still a lot of room." I just smiled back realizing she didn't
understand that the clothes needed to move around in order for the
action of the machine to wash them. The innocence and inexperience of
youth. By now she had about one third of the clothes out and the cart
was way past full. She took them over to a dryer and as she returned
our eyes met again. "From the looks of how hard it is to get the
clothes out you should have your boyfriend do it.", I said. "He doesn't
like to be seen doing laundry" was the answer. I left her to her task
while wondering what other things he thought was woman's work and what
kind of life she had to look forward too. Linda was still on the cell
phone when the dryer shut off, so I took the clothes out and started
folding them. What difference is it whether you do it at home or in
public? Maybe the real secret is to think of everything as ours, not
mine or hers. Linda returned and help finish folding. We walked out to
a beautiful sky and another wonderful day of adventure.
Returning
a long the Parkway we saw a rafter of wild turkeys. there were 10 birds
in this particular rafter. The big male was in full spread as the
females quickly moved off towards the woods. Of course as this happened
I was stopping the Explorer as fast as I could. Fumbled with the camera
and got in a couple of quick pictures. We are talking some well
camouflaged birds here. I took the pictures and have a hard time
picking out the turkeys, can you see the ten turkeys in this photo?.
This was one of those blink and they are gone deals,
A
couple of miles later we passed the small herd of deer we had
seen on the way up the Parkway this morning. So once again I
stopped and thinking as quickly I stopped, this time I gave the camera
to Linda. The result was you can actually see the animals in her
photo's. Of course the fact there are somewhat larger than the turkeys
and that they were in a meadow as opposed to being in the woods plus
they were standing still browsing as opposed to the turkeys
fleeing for cover had nothing to do with her getting a good picture as
opposed to my inept attempt at nature photography, smile.
We had the requisite turkey wraps for lunch (we had bought the flat
bread wraps we like to use at the SuperCenter, but need to use up the
other brand first, bummer), then for dinner we had an old time
favorite. It is a spicy but not hot, shrimp creole dish that is easy to
fix and makes enough for two meals. Afterward Linda watched TV and
worked on the website until it was time for Letterman and a dessert of
soft chocolate chip cookies and butter pecan ice cream. The low fat no
added sugar ice cream does not freeze as hard as regular ice cream. It
is more like soft serve and ends up being a real taste treat.
Mar 26 Well, it had to happen some day
and this was
the day. We finally ran out of fresh strawberries. Bummer. This meant
scrambled eggs, Canadian Bacon and Toast with jam for breakfast. Tasted
great and it was good for us. Think about it: eggs, a little water and
some fresh ground four pepper blend mixed together and scrambled in a
non stick skillet. When served, a bit more pepper ground on
top
plus a shake of red chili pepper flakes for a little kick 'em up for
Bob. Linda passes on the red chili pepper flakes. We like to use a
peppercorn blend rather than straight black pepper. We also find there
is no comparison between fresh ground pepper and the ground black
pepper you buy at the store. The four peppercorn blend we buy is
composed of black, white, pink and green peppercorns. Besides tasting
great it also looks great. Two for the price of one, lol. Canadian
Bacon is naturally low fat. We find a very light coat of EVOO helps and
gives it an improved flavor. The lower the heat the better to bring out
the flavor of both the meat and the olive oil. We prefer it soft, not
crisp and find that when it is cooked this way it tastes just as good
cool as it does warm. Since one of the electrical appliances we chose
not to have in the motor home was a toaster, we improvise a little in
order to make toast. We use whole grain bread, very low or no fat and
and low sugar with the fiber content always higher than the sugar
content. We put a little I Can't Believe It's Not Butter or a
similar spread on both side of the bread and toast it on a medium
griddle. When the first side turns golden we turn the bread and toast
the other side. The second side takes less time than the first side.
The bread is warmer and so is the griddle. This is then topped with
sugar free jam. We use our own that we make from fresh fruit and
sure-jell sugarless, but also use store bought pure fruit preserves. We
only made peach and nectarine jam last year, so for berry we have to
buy it. That's not going to be the case this year with us spending
September and October in huckleberry and blackberry country, smile.
Breakfast over and seeing as how we were out of quite a few groceries,
we decided to go shopping. We knew we were taking a chance because this
is North Carolina
and many of the store are closed on Sunday. Our first stop was another
little country church. But this one was down the mountain. Made an
interesting observation. The speech, accent, what have you, of the
people in the valley is different from the mountain people that go to
the little church across from the RV Park. I could understand
everything they said both before and after the service. This church was
Carson's Chapel and was a methodist church. First time we'd ever been
to a Methodist service. It has been great being exposed to all the
different types of services. I would never have guessed there could be
such a tremendous variation in how American's approach religion. It's
amazing, the ways we can acquire new knowledge. There were about 40
people at the service, they even had a choir. The music was provided by
an organ and bass. All this, coupled with old time favorite hymns and
the beautiful wood paneled church was pleasing to both the ear and the
eye. The minister is a local farmer who also pastor's two churches. In
our travels we have heard preachers in churches that had hundreds in
attendance that were no where as good as this farmer/preacher. Maybe
that's why religion has such a bad name.
Our next stop was the Wal-Mart. We needed some more of their salsa, but
also wanted to buy an electric blanket. What, you say, have our two
hardened former tent campers be soft RV'ers? Well, it could be, but you
know, it's not the climbing into the cold bed that so bad, it's the
length of time it takes to warm up the bed after we climb into it,
smile. Two comforters really hold the heat in, it just takes our skinny
bodies a long time to generate that heat, lol. So we go to the bedding
department and look and look, then look some more. No electric blankets
to be seen, heck, not even a little old blanket. Nothing but comforters
as far as the eye could see. We need a heat source, not insulation!.
Finally see a lady in blue and ask, the answer was what we expected,
they don't carry them. Man, these are tough people up here in these
mountains, lol. Not in a rush to go out into the cold weather, we
wandered by the bird food. Bottom line, a 10 lb bag of bird food for
our existing feeder. It has very little sunflower seeds and more millet
and milo. We'll see which species like this one. Do not think she was
done with the birds. A bag of nijer thistle caught her eye and faster
than a finch takes flight, the bag of thistle and a finch feeder were
in the cart. There are either going to be some well feed birds at site
36 this week or one very disappointed lady. I'll bet on the happy
birds, smile. Leaving Wal-Mart we went by GO, but it was
closed.
We drove on over to Ingles and got most of what we wanted as well as
some more of the same smoked turkey they had on sale last Monday. You
gotta go with what's good.
Time to head back up the hill, but with a couple of stops on the way.
The Marion area is famous for its rock and stone. We're not talking,
minerals or gems, nor are we talking sand and gravel, we're talking
building and structural stone. There are quarries and rock yards all
around town. People say the rocks are the biggest cash crop in this
part of the country. We stopped a one on Rt-70 west of town, Table Rock
Quarries and were amazed at the amount of stone that is there. About
five years ago we had built a small fish pond and planter at our house.
We had spent a lot of time picking out the style of stone we wanted.
Looking at what was spread out before us, it would have taken us weeks
to make the choice from what they had here. To get an idea of the
enormous selection of stone they have check out their
website.
Our next stop was the
pavilion in the lake thatwas featured in the movie "Dirty Dancing" It's
on posted and patrolled private property so we couldn't actually go out
to it, but we took some photos along the road. The neat thing is the
movie was set in the mountains of New York, but this pavilion is in the
mountains of North Carolina. Nothing is absolutely true on
television or in the movies. Because it is only what they decide to
show us, it is only the illusion of truth. By the nature of the medium,
far more is left out than is shown. Editors edit what is shown.
Directors select what is shown. Rant over, smile.
Back at the coach, we hung the new feeder, filled both feeders with
food and waited for the birds to come. And waited. And waited . And
waited. All to no avail. Not a single bird to be seen. We decided to
look at the positive side. It can't get any worse. We'll see what
tomorrow brings. We had open face quesadillas for dinner which must
have served to whet Linda's appetite. It was later the baking bug bite
her. The result was those soft chocolate chip cookies that are simply
beyond words delicious. Complimented by butter pecan low fat, no sugar
added ice cream it was the perfect end to another day in our life on
the road.
Mar 25 Up early today, ready for the
workday. Look out the window and there are already groups of
people, standing
together, coffee mugs in hand, talking. Maybe they are all the
non-retired folks that came up. Nope doesn't look like it, oh well, to
each their own, smile. Decide if they can have their coffee, then I can
have my tea. I have been a life long tea drinker. Not sure why, maybe I
was just rebellious even as a child. Growing up I remember most of the
adults in my life always did two things first thing in the morning.
They smoked a cigarette and drank a cup of coffee. Actually, it was
more
like the smoked a number of cigarettes and drank a number of cups of
coffee. I remember them saying something about needing a cigarette and
a
cup of coffee to get going in the morning. Yet there was always one
cigarette after another in the ash tray and one cup of coffee after
another on the table.
I had a Great Aunt whom I often stayed with that
drank something called Postum. It came in a glass jar and instead of
putting it in the percolator she just put some in a glass and added hot
water. As I got older I remember her telling me she started drinking it
during the War when coffee was rationed. Tried it once and though my
memory is dim, I recall somewhat of a burnt taste. So here I suddenly
am, a teenager in the late 1950's, can't stand cigarette smoke, don't
like coffee, what to do. To my rescue sailed Sir Thomas Lipton with his
famous bag of tea. Here was an adult beverage, not to popular, but
still an adult beverage, that I actually liked. Of course rather than
have it in a tea cup, I made mine in a coffee mug, but at least what
came out of the mug tasted good. For most of my life a bag of tea was
my choice. I drank many different kinds, some, like Earl Grey, I liked,
others I didn't. My
jobs always seemed to require a lot of travel and
slowly I was exposed to different types of tea. Decades before green
tea became the popular drink it is today, a paper bag of gunpowder tea
was ensconced in my cupboard, ready to give me a warm treat. At the
same time, iced tea was the drink for warm weather. Fast forward to the
Information Age. A whole new world of tea opens for me. So many teas to
try, So many companies to order from. For the last 5+ years I have
ordered my tea on line from Upton
Tea Imports. There are many other suppliers to choose from,
and all have great tea and fast service. If you're a confirmed tea
drinker or just want to know more about tea, teamail, which is
an email tea discussion group, is a great source of information. They
cater to all levels of tea knowledge, from the basic, "I know nothing",
to detailed reviews and commentary on tea growing or manufacture by
world renowned experts in the field. While I try not to be a purist, I
do find that the search for the perfect cup of a new tea can sometimes
be elusive. I've found that proper water temperature plays a big factor
in getting it "just right". In fact, I've crowed out the words "just
right" so many times when I've really nailed a steep that my
son got me heavy clear glass mug engraved, "JUST
RIGHT!" Reading what I just wrote, I can
see why many people get turned off by tea. It's too sophisticated. Let
me assure you if you have ever drunk a ten minute steeped cup of young
Puerh tea, one that was buried in the dirt only few years
instead of a decade or more, you will have a totally new concept of
what "strong" means when you refer to have a "strong" cup of whatever
in the morning, lol, lol.
Well enough jabbering about tea. There was oatmeal to fix. Could be it
for few days as we were using the last of our strawberries. Tasted just
as good as ever. Then it was off to the Park workday. Our project was
to work on installing landscape timbers on the last of the stream side
sites. There were groups doing a number of different projects, a break
for lunch then another couple of hours of work. I'll let the photo's
tell most of the story except for (sorry Chaucer) "The Cooks Tale"
which will be told at a later date with a SWP, Special Website Post, as
I want to be able to do full justice to, errr for, the renowned chef
Emeril Lafreemee. I have to say we had a very wonderful time,
got
to meet and work with some great people. The only thing that could have
been better was the weather. It snowned off and on much of the day,
plus a cold cutting wind never stopped blowing. Despite this everyone
had a great time.
After the workday was over we retired to the coach for some much needed
rest, we both took a short nap, man we're a couple of wusses, worked on
the website, had sliced roast pork sandwiches for dinner, talk about
good!!!! They were nothing more than a slice of bread, fully covered
with roast pork, a splash of the pork juices (they have partial
congealed) and another slice of bread. Note, it is important
that no bread show otherwise you won't have gotten as much pork on the
bread as you could have, smile (yes, we LOVE roast pork). Finally
watched a movie on cable to finish the day. Oh yes, almost forgot about
the apple crisp and ice cream. Now the day was finished for sure, lol.
Cleaning up all the fallen fall leaves.
Making the pavilion weather tight.
Nailing timbers
Telephone guys working on timbers
Electricians doing what ever electricans do
Helpers come in all sizes
What
do you mean, it's off by an inch!!!!
Gathering of the Union of Professional Sidewalk Superintendents.
Mar
24 Today starts the first big weekend of
camping since we arrived at Mountain Stream
RV Park. This is the annual work weekend. There will be 16
RV's
coming in during the day for a free weekend of camping, camaraderie,
work and food. In the very early morning hours a light rain was
falling, but it quit before 7AM. It had chased the smaller birds to a
safe place in the woods. However the larger birds were still out. Saw a
larger black feathered bird I had not seen before. Tried to get a
photo, but he was so leery of movement that whenever I moved it would
fly away for a while. So it will just have to be known as a large black
bird.
After a breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries, had to get a great start
to the day, we went up to the equipment shed to get all the hand tools
hung and organized for tomorrow. Ron and Becky are out this morning, so
Larry is handling the office, checking in the campers as they arrive,
while we work up close to the office so we can also greet the campers
and help out if needed. Our job was not difficult, but it sure would
make using the hand tools easier. We took each tool held it up to the
wall, marked the location of two screws that would support it. Drilled
the holes and drove the screws. We even managed to get it organized to
the point where all the tools of the same type were together. When we
were finished, we decided it really did look good.
As we worked different
rigs were arriving. There were motor homes, travel trailers and fifth
wheels. We thought it interesting that no one had a Class C. The people
who were arriving had all camped here in the past. To them this was a
very special place. Everyone had something nice to
say about the park and Ron & Becky. As we've said before, this
truly is a very special place. For us
it was also a special day as our mail packet arrived. Since we are
staying here for such a long time we are having the mail forwarded to
the campground instead of general delivery at the Post Office. One
thing that we don't worry about receiving is bills. We have everything
set up to be paid on-line. With the Motosat internet connection it is
so easy. It didn't happen over
night and there were the expected problems getting several of the
accounts set up. It's now been almost four months since
we started to convert our accounts
and the occasional frustration was more than worth it. This is one area
where using technology to the max has really paid off and made our life
much easier. Everyone needs to walk their own path when it
comes to this
area. We like to take the back roads in our travels, but taking the
interstate multi lane expressway approach to bills was the right
way for us.
This was one of the coldest days we have
experienced while work camping. Lunch was a warm up meal
for us of white chili. Delicious, hot, filling and nutritious. If it
isn't going to be a turkey wrap, it needs to be a 4 star meal,
lol. While the soup was warming, Linda decided to undertake a task she
had been avoiding for some time, but the cold weather of today
convinced
her it was time to undertake. You see, the $5 pig skin gloves she had
bought in Quartzite, low those many months ago, had developed a hole at
the tip of one of the fingers. With the cold wave we were experiencing
today, cold air was pouring in through the hole turning her
finger
into an icicle.
Out came the needle and thread. The day laborer receded and the
seamstress came to the fore. Quickly the hole closed. Barely had time
to get the camera out and take a picture before she
was done. Spent time working on the website then cooked supper,
spaghetti with Bob Evans sausage sauce and tossed salad. To walk supper
off, we took a couple of laps around the park. Amazing how different it
looks with all the rigs here. The sunset was one of those special ones
that cried out to have a photo taken. We ended the day by watching Monk
and House on USA Network. Of course, as always, accompanied by
dessert.
Mar 23 When I awoke this
morning there
was a definite chill in the air, since Linda was still asleep it wasn't
something
I said or did, smile. It was the air itself.
I looked at the indoor
outdoor thermometer we have setting on the counter. It was 24º
outside, where had that come from? They were predicting
32º-33º the last time I heard the forecast. The water
hose is
gonna' be frozen, the water filter is gonna be frozen, man I'd better
turn on the furnace or Linda and I are gonna' be frozen. Next I've got
to go out and take off the Y-valve and filter and leave the hose
disconnected to thaw out. Back inside I check and am relieved to see
the
system heat (for the wet bay) is on, whew, did at least one thing
right. Anybody remember
the song "Rock
Me"
by Steppenwolf?It has a verse that goes:
Don't know where we come from
Don't know where we're going to
But if all of this should have a reason
We would be the last to know
That pretty much sums up how I was feeling at the moment, a slight bit
out of touch and without a clue. On the bright side, the furnace was
now on, drawing water from our tank, I started to boil water for tea
and though my fingers where too cold to type, I could sit at the table
and watch the birds. Their reaction to the cold was to congregate in
greater numbers than usual at the feeder. Looks like even the birds
knew how cold it was before I did. Managed to get the camera out and
take a few photo's. Normally there only one bird at the feeder at a
time. Today it was a full house with a waiting line. Even the Cardinals
came by. It was only a few days ago I was wondering if the birds felt
anything. Today it appears that the birds know more than I do. Maybe it
is true, that we would be the last to know.
With the coach warming up, it wasn't long before Linda's head peeked
into the living room, well so much for writing the Great American
Journal
this morning. Soon the oatmeal was gently bubbling in the pot,
fresh sliced strawberries filled a cup and the aroma of Linda's morning
coffee filled the air. When we ventured out, trash in hand, the sun
was already warming the air. We had one outside job to do. Finish
putting the office window shutters away. Ron was in the office and got
the keys. I say keys because each window had two locks and the locks
were different for each window, Then again one window had two different
locks on it. It produced a faint resemblance to the pick up sticks game
we played as kids, only with keys and locks instead of sticks. The end
result was the same. a jumble of keys and locks, smile. We made short
work of the job, in fact Linda had each shutter placed under the office
before I was barely off the ladder at each window.
Almost before we
knew it, the job was done and we were in the office. What a grand day
for an inside job. It is amazing how much needs to be done to bring a
RV park out of hibernation and get it ready for the season. Up to now
we had been readying the outside areas. Now we would have our first
taste of stocking shelves. We would be placing all the tee shirts, tank
tops, sweat shirts and hats on the shelves. They were stored in black
plastic bags to keep them clean between seasons. First we cleaned the
shelves, removed the shirts from the bags. Next we refolded many of
them, then sorted them according to size, some sizes had only a few
shirts and then only in one or two colors. Other sizes had many shirts
in a wide variety of colors. As soon as this year's order comes in the
shelves will be full once again.
Before we quit for the
day we
had one other job to do. Since we first started
working we had been
fighting a stubborn sliding bolt latch at the back of the equipment
shed. Today it made a major error. It refused to latch when Linda was
trying to close it and she ended up scrapping herself. With screw
driver and drill in hand I was going to make it pay the price. When I
finished with it, it would be as docile as a lamb. In quick order the
screws were removed, the latch lowered about a half inch and centered,
new holes drilled and the
screws put back in. Job done, Linda happy, Bob happy, life is good.
Bring on the turkey wraps!!!
Lunch finished, a new problem cropped up.
Linda could not get her desktop computer to recognize the shared drives
on the laptop I use. This was very important
since we keep the web
pages stored on the laptop. I finally figured out that we had shut down
the laptop and when it booted back up, Norton Internet Security
started. Disabling it gave us connectivity once again. I'll tell you ,
I hate that product so much I will never knowingly buy a Symantec
product again. Looking around I found how to configure it to not
automatically start. At least something good results from Linda's
frustrating experience. Of course that is no all that is frustrating
for her. She is at the point with her web page design that
with
everything she wants to do, she has to search the net to try to find
out how to do it. I've come to look at her questions, not as an
interruption, but as the opportunity to learn something new. Growth is
sometimes painful but the result can be very rewarding. When she was
first wanting to do this she began by looking at as many websites as
she could and see what she liked about them. Gave her some great ideas,
several which she is using, many of which she would like to use but
can't figure out how to get them to work. But someday soon she will,
because she can and will keep trying until she knows how. Her method is
to work at it until she needs a break, then find a job around the house
that is somewhat physical. This afternoons break resulted in the pantry
being emptied of all its cans, boxes and assorted containers. The
reason being the shelves were bowing and the shelf was separating from
the reinforcing strip stapled to it. These are the type of design
elements that
cause me to shake my head and wonder. If it's designed as a pantry,
marketed as a pantry and sold as a pantry, then why won't it hold the
items a pantry normally holds. I'm not talking size, I'm talking
weight. You'd think the designer figured people would only put bags of
potato chips on it. I will definitely be a much more savvy consumer the
next time we buy a coach. A little carpenters glue plus a handful of
screws and the shelves were better than new. Linda's huge smile as she
restocked the shelves told me "I'd done good".
When we were outside
fixing the shelves Linda made a startling discovery. The Country Coach
that had moved in next to us was a front for what could best be
described
as nefarious activity. The other night we had noticed that
instead of the interior being aglow with light, there was only a single
solitary lamp burning up at the front of the coach. All else was in
darkness, seemed a little strange, but we thought little of it at the
time. As we were out working on the shelves we heard the door
of
the Country Coach open, then a male voice saying something. At the next
opportunity Linda walked up to see who it was. All she saw was the
backside of a man quickly walking down the campground road. That was
when she noticed the movement in the coach. All she could see was a
dark form. Then I hear , "Oh my gosh Bob, you got to come here and see
this." Rounding the front of the Country Coach, I started to laugh. Why
we had a high priced cat house parked next to us. Up on the dash was
the blackest cat I have ever seen. But it was not simply
standing there, it
was rolling around, rubbing up against the window trying to touch
Linda's hand through the glass. This is one case where the term 'cool
cat' really applies. I watched for a bit, then finished up the shelves
by myself, smile. For dinner we had some of the sliced roast pork from
last night that had somehow found its way into our refrigerator, boiled
sweet potatoes and salad. Linda baked apple crisp later which was
topped with ice cream. The apple crisp has been giving her fits and
tonight was no different. She had switched to Golden Delicious apples
thinking they would cook down some and render more liquid. Didn't
happen. Maybe it has something to do with using Splenda rather than
sugar? Even if the texture wasn't what she wanted (it was okay as far
as I was concerned) as she takes her cooking seriously, the taste was
right on!!!
Mar 22 It's just another day of work
camping. I'm not
ready to
say we are settling into a set work schedule nor am I ready to say it's
time to move on down the road. However, the days of the type of work we
have been doing are slowly drawing to a close and the routine that
accompanies the camping season draws ever closer. With these thoughts
in
mind, the oatmeal cooks on the stove and the strawberries await to be
sliced. Talk about routine, this breakfast is about as routine as can
be. Why I'd be half sick at the thought of eating the same thing
everyday
you say. So would I if it truly were the same each day. It's not. The
same birds visit the feeder each morning, yet I never tire of watching
them. Life is what we make it. Today, as yesterday and the days before,
I try to make my life special. Take a strawberry for example. The ones
we
bought on Monday were much smaller than what we normally buy. It
seems like the stores want to sell the kind that are so large that 10
or 12 fill the pound container. With hollow centers and an thin veneer
of red over their white colored
flesh, they look great in the store, but lack something in the bowl.
These berries are small, some are gnarly in appearance, the fruit is
solid, deep red in color and dripping with juice. Not the flashy
glamorous berry that catches my eye and entices me, rather the solid
good and long lasting variety, the kind we will truly enjoy. As we
transition from the flashy, fun projects we have been doing
to more mundane, repetitious tasks, may my vision change also,
so I
see my work as worthwhile, something that helps bring joy to the
campers who are here for only an occasional weekend, or perhaps their
annual week long vacation.
With these thoughts in mind, we set off to tackle the WB. After
yesterdays experience in the mens bathroom (when it
was untamed,
MB was a apt name, tamed, ready for the season, it is simply the men's
bathroom), but today we know what to expect. We marshaled our buckets,
cleaners, rags and scrubbers.
Retrieved our ladder and quickly dispatched the spots, specs, grime,
soap rings and spider webs with speed, clarity and completeness. Other
than a slightly more protracted battle with hair in the showers, every
single task was far easier today than yesterday. Maybe the saying is
true: "Men are such slobs", lol, lol.
Putting all our
implements away,
we ventured out from the heated bathroom into the arms of a beautiful
cool, crisp
spring mountain morning. As we walked over to the equipment shed, the
last RV of
the three that had come in this past weekend slowly pulled out, two
cousins from the mid-west enjoying a brief trip to the Carolina
mountains. They were returning to the routine of the life they live, we
on the other hand were about to start The Sound and the Fury, smile.
Our next task would be cleaning out the ashes from the fire pits, a new
experience for us. When the season starts this will be one of the
regularly scheduled tasks we will be doing. It will be one of our
Tuesday jobs, scheduled that day so as to give the ashes time to cool
after all the conflagerations of the weekend. Besides, there are a lot
less people in the campground on Tuesday giving us easy access to more
sites, at least we think it works like that, smile. So, you ask, what
does a job like cleaning out the fire pits entail? Maybe you're also
wondering just how difficult or physically demanding can it be. After
all, it only involves placing a few light, fluffy ashes into a metal
can, then later, dumping said can of cold ashes into the dumpster.
Allow us to describe our ordeal, err, the easy job it was to clean the
fire pits. To prepare we backed out TS&TF, hitched up the
trailer, got a long handled flat shovel, drove up to the tool shed, got
the small fireplace ash shovel and two metal trash cans.
Starting with site 40 we
check each fire pit as we drive up the
road. This starts to get old pretty quickly, so we change our modus
operandi. Instead of Linda driving and me getting out at each site to
check for ashes. Linda drove the cart and I walked from site to site
checking for ashes. Of course when I finally did find a fire pit with
ashes, Linda was already three sites further up the road. She stopped
and walked back carrying the little ash shovel. Knowing my place in the
pecking order of life, I walked up to the trailer and carried the can
back. Of course what I should have done was drive the
cart back with the can in it. Maybe I was tired, then again maybe I was
off my game so to speak. Guess I can't always be the sharpest tack in
the box, smile. We shoveled, scraped and shoveled, eventually getting
the pit clean. Of course the light fluffy ashes were a water logged,
sodden, heavy gooey mess after all the snow and rain we had on Monday.
The can, as I carried it to the next site, was already nearing my
carrying capacity and we'd only done one site. The next two sites had
only a minimal amount of ashes, so once again we
were joined up with TS&TF. Linda helped lift the ashes into
the trailer and we slowly worked and filled the can to the
point where it was too heavy to lift anymore. Of course when this
happened, Linda had once again parked TS&TF far away from where
we were. A calm dispassionate discussion that allowed each of to
present our respective points of view regarding the operation and
parking positions of TS&TF took place. At the next fire pit as
I worked by
myself to
clean it out, I decided that perhaps I did not appreciate the help I
was getting from Linda, that maybe I had talked without listening and
that indeed, maybe it was hard for her to park TS&TF exactly
where I thought it should be parked when I didn't bother to let her
know what I is thinking. The mysterious yet practical ways of women. By
the time all the fire pits had been emptied, five metal cans of ashes
had been placed in the dumpster while we worked together in close
harmony. Always knew I was teachable, it's just that I have a short
attention span when it comes to retaining what she just said, smile.
As we had worked along the stream we both realized how very beautiful this
park is. It's no wonder Ron has put the sound of the flowing stream on
the park
website. Back at the coach we fixed our turkey wraps for
lunch, however there was a pleasant surprise in store for us. When you
eat the same thing day after day you become very intimate with every
nuance of that particular food. We can instantly taste differences in
the tortilla's, the peppers, whether green or sweet red, or the
mustard, regular, Dijon or garlic (our favorite). Today it was the
turkey that provided the surprise. Linda had bought some sliced turkey
breast at the deli counter at Ingles on Monday. Thin sliced, but firm
and juicy, according to our taste buds, it had been smoked to
utter perfection. She had bought it because it was on special. What a
find. Just when we think we know it all, we learn something new!! Life
on the road, new towns, new stores, new taste treats, we love it.
As we finished eating we noticed a rumble, then a shaking. Next the
nose of a coach appeared out the front window. The first of the work
weekend campers was arriving. Not only was it the first worker, it very
well might be the most important one as well. It was Larry, he of the
coma and recent stay in intensive care, driving his Country Coach, wow,
the neighborhood is going high class!!! The reason I say the most
important worker is because Larry is the cook for this weekend's meals.
Furthermore, we have been lead to believe he puts on a show that would
make Emeril envious, smile.
Later we both worked on our respective areas of the website.
It takes a lot of time and effort to learn the new things we are trying
to implement. One of the more vexing things has been the implementation
of a counter for the website. Sounds easy to do, but for some reason it
could not be viewed on the homepage. With the help of our son via email
we finally solved the problem and it should now be visible. (It would
have been easy to link to one of the free counters most people use, but
not me). Funny how every symbol in every line of code has to be correct
for everything to work properly. It was one of those cases of simply
not knowing where and when to look for the error. (The web editor
software I use was automatically changing one of the symbols in the
code.)
Dinner time found us
once again descending the mountain to eat at the Pleasant Gardens
Baptist church. Tonight
is a covered dish supper. Linda made deviled eggs and a double batch of
her chocolate brownies (with the Ghirardelli Bittersweet
Chocolate). Throughout the years we've heard stories about the way Baptists
love their covered dish suppers, tonight we realized they were all
true!! As we took our turn and went down the table we saw several
sliced roasted turkey breasts, or what we thought was turkey breast. As
I was taking a piece I connected it to being in the south. It
turned out to be simply divine, juicy, succulent sliced roast pork.
Later back at the park we had leftovers for dessert. Didn't want those
brownies to go bad, lol, lol.
Mar 21 This was a work morning
before we even
went to
work. As you probably know by now, I like to get up early and have some
time just for myself while Linda, phrasing it the best I can, relaxes
for a while longer before stating her day (we'll see if that passes the
editors purview, yesterday we had some serious rewriting that had to
done regarding stubborn behavior, lol). Though it might not be
apparent, I truly love writing this journal of our adventure, the good,
the not so good, the mundane, the repetitious (but I love food, I can't
help it), the humorous, but always, what it was that we did that day.
Sort of a true life adventure if you will. For the longest time I was
on task and that allowed me to keep up on a daily basis with our life.
Then came that fateful week late last month where I got behind for what
amounted to almost a week. Don't know if I was suffering from writers
block or what. Trust me, it ain't a gonna' happen again, lol. Anyway, I
make notes on what happens each day then use them to refresh my memory
when I sit down to write. So this morning saw me typing away, the
keyboard near the smoking point, I was typing so fast. Well maybe not
that fast, but I do pretty good with the two finger method I have
perfected, smile. So don't be surprised to see multi-page updates
posted over the next few days. And I'm not the only one who is busy.
Linda is working both on the recipe pages and on a redesign of our
homepage. And she's doing this with no past experience at web page
design, just a strong desire to make it look and function better. From
the brief previews I've seen she's doing great. Well, enough excuses
for me and well deserved plaudits for Linda, there's breakfast to
cook!!!!
Back to the old standby, yep, oatmeal and strawberries. We found a good
deal on strawberries yesterday, $1.69 a pound, so two pounds are now
residing in our refrigerator, hopefully to last the week. They were
really ripe, but by refrigerating them their shelf life can be
significantly extended without appreciable "off season" loss of
quality. There are times when we lower our standards until locally
picked fresh berries are available, sigh.
Today is going to be a little more "real world" work camping but we are
mentally prepared, so bring it on, for this is the day
we bring
the MB out of its winter hibernation. It wasn't like MB was still
slumbering, as we have already had
RV's in the park, but
what had been done to date was the equivalent of kicking it enough to
wake it up. It
was warm and had its life giving fluid flowing through its veins. Even
so, the detritus
of last season clung tightly to its vital organs. There were the
tale-tell lines of Arachnids,
the spots that marked the passing of Musca domestica Linnaeus, why
there was even the dreaded remnant ring of body surfactant. We
approached its lair with a mixture of trepidation, false bravado and
misplaced confidence. Within moments we would be committed to our
course of action.
We swallowed hard and attacked the..... Mens Bathroom. As befits
Linda's high position, she got up on the step ladder and started
cleaning the upper walls and ceiling with an oxy-clean type of product
to remove hundreds of little spots. Our goal to return the MB to its
lofty Good Sam rating status of 9.5. Stretching, reaching, wiping,
cleaning, no spot too small nor too far, all fell before the onslaught
of the Magnificent Washer Woman of Mountain Stream. Above shower, above
commode, over bench and sink, on wall, on heater, over bench and basin,
all gleamed white where her cleaning cloth doth pass. The
pressure
was
on, the bar had been set, could I also pass the test? The job was
going great until I reached the showers. They are
fiberglass
and held two very nasty surprises. The dreaded soap scum, and,
as
I soon learned, the even more
dreaded human
hair. Attacking the soap scum with the available cleansers and wipes
resulted only in the expenditure of copious amounts of both elbow
grease and cleanser with no reduction in the actual object of all this
activity.
I was quickly reduced to referring to the offending coating as "the
scum of the earth" and decided this phrase originated in the baths of
ancient Rome. Everyone probably thought the Roman Emperor was referring
to the slaves working in the baths when he first uttered the term,
"scum of the Earth", but what he was actually referring to was the ring
of soap residue that encircled his personal bath, smile. The
scum
final fell to an assault of "Freds Bathroom Cleaner" (it actually lived
up to the claims on the label to remove soap scum) assisted by a green
3M scratch pad powered by a moderate amount of elbow grease.
Much too much rinsing and wiping later, it seemed like days, but
probably was only hours, lol, the last hair was banished from the first
shower and the second one attacked. This one was smaller and the task
was completed in much less time. Meanwhile, Linda had been busy
cleaning the overhead lights and was now ready to mop the floor as soon
as I could take out the ladder. Moments later the job was completed. We
felt good and the MB looked great!!
Our
work for the day over, we retired to the coach to eat lunch, turkey
wraps of course, and spend some time doing nothing. After
spending
a few minutes doing nothing I quickly became bored and as something was
better than nothing, once again began working on the web page. Linda,
being of the same mindset, was soon involved in the almost daily
activity of clutter reduction. When you live full-time in an RV,
clutter happens. (other things happen also but we won't go there right
now, smile)
Then a really good thing happened. Becky had gone over to
Asheville to the Sam's Club to get some things for the park store
andhad asked Linda if there was any thing she wanted. One of the things
we have not been able to find in the stores during our travels is
Ghirardelli 60% Cocoa Bittersweet Chocolate. It's what makes Linda's
chocolate chip cookies over the top. Well what should Becky find, but
this exact type of chocolate, and in the three pound bags we always
buy. Heck, this was even better than Becky telling us we did a great
job on the MB, lol,lol.
Dinner
was once again salsa chicken done the exact same way I described a few
days ago. This is one awesome meal and tonight I remembered to take a
picture. Note the near perfect placement of all the different food
items. For a few moments I could visualize myself as a food stylist,
you know, the ones that make the avertizing photos look unreal.
Clockwise from the top: Non-fat sour cream, sauted rubbed chicken
smothered in salsa, tomayos, green onions and our special refried
beans, all on a bed of lettuce.
Later Linda worked on her web pages as I wrote for the daily journal.
She's once again working to get the recipe pages into a semblance of
order. What layout to use, include photo's, yes or no, provide a little
more detail on how we cook it, what specal things we do, or just list
ingredients and very basic directions. Decisions, decisions, decisions.
The first attempt at the first edition, subject to repeated revision
should be out in the next ten days, I hope, smile. Tired but still
tasting our brownies and ice cream we closed up shop and headed to the
back of the house.
Mar 20 Remember the song by the
carpenters, Rainy
Days and Monday? Well that's what we faced this morning. However unlike
the words of the first verse:
Talkin'
to myself and
feelin' old;
Sometimes I'd like to quit;
Nothing ever seems to fit;
Hangin' around;
Nothing to do but frown;
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.
That
is not how we felt this morning. We were talkin' to each other; feeling
happy; ready to get going today; have things to do; need to get going
on this Rainy Monday. Now I would be the first to admit that just a few
scant months ago the words to the song were probably closer to how I
felt on a day like today than the words that I just wrote. What about
the birds? There are none at the feeder this rainy Monday morning. Are
they huddled somewhere against the weather? What do they feel?
Anything? Nothing? Questions I can not answer, but I miss my little
friends.
Today we are breaking with our routine and having french toast for
breakfast. This a meal you need to plan for if you want it "just
right". Fresh bread just does not cut it, it needs to be stale. So last
evening after dessert, Linda carefully laid 4 pieces of whole wheat
bread at a slight angle up against the backslash. This was done to
attain
complete air circulation, thus ensuring perfectly
uniform stale bread
which in turn leads to perfect French Toast. Toss in a little whole
wheat
flour, fresh ground nutmeg and a few other ingredients, toast lightly
on a medium hot griddle, serve with some sugar free syrup and a side of
Canadian Bacon, and get total and complete perfection for breakfast.
You had to know if it
was something other than oatmeal with strawberries, it was going to be
great. With a meal like that there is no way the words to the
Carpenter's song could reflect our mood, lol, lol. While all this was
going on, Linda was washing a load of clothes, which because we were
going to leaving soon to go into Marion shopping, ended up hanging from
various hooks and latches in the coach so they wouldn't wrinkle. Wonder
if they'll be dry when we return, eh, eh.
As we got ready to leave,
we looked out and saw snow!!! Wasn't heavy and it wasn't sticking, but
it was snow. This meant the trip to Marion would be delayed for a time
while pictures are taken and emails sent to make sure everyone in our
family knew we were suffering terribly in this miserable North Carolina
weather, lol. Emails sent, we were on our way.
We had light snow most
of the way down the mountain which changed to sleet and rain, then rain
as we arrived in Marion. First stop was the Wal-Wart. This is a small
store with much less selection than a Super Center. We checked for some
things but only found the salsa we like. Decided to check some other
stores for salsa so didn't buy anything. Back outside the store the
weather has now changed to sleet and rain.
Drove in towards town and
stopped at the G.O., aka, Grocery Outlet. One of those stores that has
a wide variety of items, mostly manufactures closeouts, label changes,
freight damaged goods, etc. One of those roll the dice kind of places
where sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Being strangers to
this neck of the woods, maybe I should say this side of the mountain,
lol, we knew we were going to make some mistakes, but what
the heck,
nothing ventured nothing gained. They actually had a number of things
we gambled on, even bought some produce, grapes and lettuce (gonna'
have salsa chicken again) and then I made a real find, fried
in the
shell peanuts. The display said, "Fried Peanuts, Eat 'em, Shell 'n All"
Talk about waving a red flag in front of a bull, I almost ran down a
little old stock clerk getting over there, picked up the bag and
decided I'd like to try these. Of course there's nothing on the bag to
indicate you eat the whole kit 'n caboodle, so why not as the clerk and
find what the locals know about them. Her response was, "We carry them,
people buy them, never ate them myself." Okay, I think, not the most
scintillating reccomendation, maybe she's not a local. Let's think
about this a little more. Notice there are two types, salted and Cajun.
Think some more. I can understand the salt, after all isn't salt pork a
staple around here, but the Cajun? Do they taste so bad they've got to
be spiced up to be edible? Looking at the label it doesn't inspire a
great deal of confidence. Looks like something made in someone's
kitchen at home, maybe it is. Then again, maybe somebody cooks this up
in a discarded oil drum to disguise the smell of the sour mash whiskey
they are distilling on the back forty. Pretty much assured the
clerk wasn't
a local, I decided to do what I thought the locals did and dropped a
bag
into the cart.
Emerging from the store we found it was now raining hard
with some snow mixed in for good measure. Found the next store, Ingles,
without a problem. Ingles is the opposite of G.O., upscale with lots of
choices, roomy isles and helpful clerks. Of course the prices were
somewhat different also, smile. Undeterred, plus with all the money we
had saved by, 1. not buying anything at Wal-Mart and 2. by saving money
on what we bought at G.O., our budget looked safe. In addition Linda
pointed out it is a monthly budget, so what, we go over it a little
or even a lot today, we'll make up for it later. Yeah, sure we will,
dear. Linda did manage to exercise a good deal of restraint as
we we able to carry our shopping bags out to the Explorer in only one
shopping cart, lol. By now we were walking through a slippery slushy
mixture in the un-trafficked areas. Might be "fun" driving
back up the
mountain. We still had one more stop to make, the Wal-mart again, since
we needed the salsa to make salsa chicken to use the lettuce we had
bought earlier. This might be turning into a viscous circle if we don't
watch
out!! Up to this point we had been doing quite well navigating around
town. As I was starting the Explorer, Linda remembered she hadn't
called any of our kids and since the cell phone doesn't work up on the
mountain, now was the time to make those calls. At this same moment I
was deciding I knew my way around this town well enough to take another
route to the Wal-Mart, instead of
retracing the roads we had taken to
get here. I will not divulge any of the gory details, no divorce papers
were filed, we got to see parts of town only long time residents know
about and we did eventually find the Wal-Mart, though most likely only
someone driving an ancient pickup truck, and named Billy Bob, would go
that way, smile.
Rain and snow fell as we drove up the mountain, but
the roads were only wet and the trip was uneventful. I think Linda was
secretly hoping for bad roads so we could put it into 4 wheel drive,
smile. Rainy/snowy days mean inside the coach days, well at least if
your at the coach, and after putting all our purchases away we decided
to vacuum and clean. We had bought quite a few things, but somewhat to
my surprise they all fit easily into the various cupboards and the
refrigerator. As I've said, the four door refrigerator/freezer was one
thing I had lobbied for when we were looking at RV's and we're both
glad we got it (ranks right up there with the 3 slides and the
washer/dryer). The neat thing about living in a small home is it
doesn't take long to clean.
Linda was almost done vacuumingthe
living room before I looked up from the computer. She calls it not
paying any attention on my part, I call it speed and efficiency on her
part. Tearing myself away from the computer, I dutifully moved
furniture, all four pieces and praised her for the excellent job she
was doing. You'd think that after the "incident" with the wrong route
to the Wal-Mart I'd be on my best behavior, what can I say, maybe I was
just born with a stubborn streak (along with a number of other bad
traits Linda says). Of course she does not believe she stubborn at all,
no siree, not at all, smile.
Time passes, another web page get written and uploaded, someday I'll
have to write about the programs I use for these tasks. I open the bag
of fried peanuts, check the internet and find this
link.
A western North Carolina regional specialty it says. I try one. Wow,
this isn't bad at all. Actually it is different for sure, but you know
how it takes more than one of anything to know for sure. The second one
better than the first. Fast forward, I eat almost the whole 10 oz
package, they're worse than potato chips when it comes to having just
one. Linda had a couple of handfuls also. She decided they were good,
but next time I should get the other variety, salted only, no Cajun
spices. There isn't enough peanut flavor in these Cajun ones to suit
her. This means I'll have to buy two bags next time, mine and one for
her in case she likes them. If she doesn't, I'll just have to eat both
of them, smile. The white bean chili gets started, the aroma fills the
coach, I make a mug of hot chocolate, we are content
in our home on wheels, life is good. The white bean chili will
definitely be on the recipe page. We enjoy CSI Miami, brownies
&
ice cream, laugh at Letterman's jokes and as midnight beckons, fold
clothes and call it a very wonderful day.
Mar
19 Greeting the day this morning were the
finches,
still in their drab winter colors. Their frequent
visits and they
are frequent, because at anytime during the day one or more of them can
be seen at the feeder, piqued my interest. It's my time of the morning,
what better a way to spend it than searching the net to find
out about my
little friends. This resulted in discovering the wonderful site hosted
by
the Cornell
Lab of Ornithology.
As I've said before, we are not "bird" people, both of us just like
birds but I find that a site like this is better than bird books for me
because it has
many more photos. These photos show the birds in different seasons and
they can also be manipulated. Furthermore the actual song of the bird
can be played. as opposed to some funny graph in a book, remember we
are not birders. This doesn't mean we still won't use our bird book
when were are away from the internet. Here I am, getting so caught up
in the technology of the delivery of information about these birds that
I'm not enjoying my feathered friends for the sheer enjoyment their
mere presence can bring, shame on me.
Our plans for today have changed because the weather forecast is
predicting a change. Remember, Sunday and Monday are our days
off. You
could say while we have most of everyday off, we have all of Sunday and
Monday off, lol. The forecast is calling for cold, rainy weather on
Monday, so rather than following our usual pattern, we plan to get in
our sightseeing today and then shop tomorrow in Marion instead of going
up to Spruce Pine. Following our breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries
we prepared to walk across the street to the little church we have
enjoyed attending. But first we had to check out the campground. There
are three other rigs here this weekend. One of them, a travel trailer
came in early on Friday night, set up and the truck that pulled the
trailer took off and hasn't returned. We've seen several people over
there and the lights are on in the evening. While we will never know
about the people in the trailer we can have fun trying to imagine what
might cause this scenario. Then there is the other travel trailer that
pulled in Saturday afternoon. Pulled by a big black Suburban we were
surprised when two ladies and a large German Shepherd emerge. It has
to be just a wee bit crowded in that trailer. The third rig is a 36 or
so
foot long gas motor home. Parked up at the upper end of the campground,
it has a couple who take a lot of walks and also take a lot of photo's.
The are probably not from around here. Why not let our imaginations run
wild, we'll never know the difference and it's great entertainment,
smile.
A while later we were seated in the little church across the road with
12 other people
besides ourselves. As
usual, the songs were sung with feeling, the
message delivered from the heart. I want to relate something that
happened
prior to the service this morning. This is the most casual church I
have ever attended. Lots of chatter back and forth, friends and
relatives greeting each other. There is only one problem for me. Other
than Linda, Ron and Becky, I can barely understand anything anyone else
says. These people are quite truly the salt of the earth. Natives
of these mountains, they talk with an accent that is nearly
incomprehensible to my ears. I don't know if it is considered a
dialect, an accent or regional speech, but whatever it is, for me it
literally
goes in one ear and out the other. I chuckle when the music director
announces the next song because the only way I know what it is, is to
look at which page in the song book Becky has turned to. The funny
thing is, once the preacher, Jimmy Buchanan, starts to preach, I have
no
trouble understanding what he is saying. Why?Who knows.
After church we fixed turkey roll ups to go and drove up to Crabtree
Falls on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Crabtree meadows area is actually
closed for the season, but you can park out
front, climb around the
locked gate, follow the road back to the campground and then walk
over to the trailhead where the trail starts. There were two other cars
parked out front when we arrived. It had been rather pleasant at the
campground so I only had a sweater on, while Linda was wearing a light
sweatshirt. No sooner had we started walking up the road leading to the
trailhead than we noticed a definite chill in the air. In fact it was
downright cold. The wind cut like a knife as they say, sending a bone
chilling cold throughout our bodies. Figuring it couldn't get worse, we
walked on. While we never got used to the cold. we found it wasn't as
biting once we crested the rise and started down toward the campground.
Along the way, in the
woods, we stopped to look at an area that had a bunch of pipes
sticking up. Ones that are just like the sewer connections you find in
a campground. We joking decided this must be the Parks primitive
environmental tent section. But to make it totally environmentally
correct each site has a sewer hook-up, lol.Never did see anything that
gave a clue as to what it's actual purpose was, maybe a septic system
leach field?
We located the trailhead and started the trek down into valley where
the falls
is located. Linda was quick to note the trail was a loop, 0.9 miles
from the trailhead to the falls, with a longer loop returning to the
parking lot. I strongly suspected we would be taking the shorter trail
both ways, (I was correct). The trail goes through quite a variation
both in terrain and vegetation. The photos below should give you some
idea of what to expect. The sign says the trail was strenuous, however
we found it to be more strenuous in terms of footing than difficulty.
We
marveled at the deciduous forest, devoid of leaves, only the bare
trunks and limbs providing a three dimensionality to the backdrop of
brown leaves that litter the ground. Being westerners, it is a scene we
are not used to seeing.
We marveled at the beauty of it. We also noticed how the tree trunks
varied, each providing its own signature in the forest. The way of
nature is so magnificent.
As we descended the trail we passed through a canopy of either
rhododendron or mountain laurel, down wooden
steps, and across rocky slopes. Finally we heard the sound of the
falls, but
only the winter forest met our searching eyes. Suddenly looking up we
could see the faint tendrils of white through the mesh of the forest
that marked the falls. We spend quite a bit of time just sitting and
enjoying the falls. We had read that it was far prettier at times of
lower water when it was lacy rather than solid. This was one of those
times. Maybe if we get a lot of rain while we are here we will return
to see it in its different dress. There was only one other family down
at the falls, so we had a virtually uninterrupted view and my
imagination could run wild. We also noticed the weather seemed to be
warming up as we sat there.
Returning up the same trail we had descended we kept asking each other,
did you see this or that on the way down? Was it that our
eyes were focused on the the trail itself going down, while as we
ascended they were uplifted, taking in all nature has to offer?I was
especially intrigued by the "ringed" tree we passed. So much to know
and so little time to learn.
We detoured through the camp ground which has 3 loops, one for RV's,
the other two for tents. This was an old campground, designed for the
camping units of 50 years ago. It was most definitely not for 40' RV's
with multiple slides. We noticed some larger "sites" that might
accommodate a 30' rig and also some level sites, but no long, level
sites, smile. Returning to the parking lot we decided to eat before we
returned to the campground, but rather than eating in the car we drove
south along the Parkway and stopped at the Crabtree Meadows picnic
area. It to was gated and closed for the season, but there was room to
park the Explorer in front of the gate and walk the few hundred feet to
a group of picnic tables set on a bluff with a nice view of the winter
forest across the valley. Getting our wraps out, we noticed the wind
was stronger and the chill had once again become more knife like.
Huddled together we devoured our turkey wraps and wondered how hard it
was for the early settlers in these mountains to survive. How often the
joy of a place is not from what our senses show us, it's from what our
imaginations tell us.
As
we descend Rt-80 back to
the campground I pulled off at one of
the hairpin turns to take a
picture. This is one of those things that can drive you batty.
Every time we would go past this turn I would remark, OK, next time
I've
just got to stop and take a picture. Of
course the next time I'd say
the same thing again. Today I actually stopped!! This is why they don't
recommend trucks on this section of the highway, note all the tire
marks on the road, lol.
If you travel this road
in an RV make sure you
understand this is a very long, very narrow, very curvy section of
mountain road with no pull-offs available. We travel it in the Explorer
and I down shift to a gear low enough I don't have to use the brakes
very much and yet there is still a slight odor of hot brakes when we
arrive
at the campground. RV's do travel this upper section, but they do it
verrry sloooowly. The things that make the mountains special can also
make the mountains difficult and at times, even dangerous.
In the late afternoon we just relaxed, watched some TV, worked on the
website and washed a couple of loads of clothes. Having the
washer/dryer in the coach makes this so easy. For dinner we fixed
turkey burgers using a griddle on top of the stove. With our
southwestern beans, makes a great tasting simple, easy to prepare meal.
Since we had eaten the last of the peach cobbler last night, it befell
Linda to bake something for tonight. After all we can't go to bed
hungry, smile. She decided to bake some brownies, since Becky had
mentioned they were interested in some of the desserts we cook.
Actually Becky had said, "How can you two eat all the desserts you do,
including ice cream, and stay so thin?" Linda decided to show her by
doubling the recipe for the brownies and taking half down for Ron and
Becky to enjoy. Part of Linda's joy of baking brownies is getting to
lick the spoon. Part of my joy is the wonderful aroma that permeates
the coach as they are cooking. The other part is doing the requisite
"quality control" testing on the just baked product. We both share in
this duty, smile. Is it life itself that is the miracle, or is the
miracle that day after day life can be so wondrous.
Mar 18 "Get up, get up sleepyhead", the
birds seemed to
be singing this morning. We have finches, their yellow coloring
seemingly
intensifying
by the day, chickadee's with their distinctive striped head and tufted
titmice fluttering around the feeder. In the branches of the tree which
the feeder hangs from, I spy a male cardinal, in all his crimson glory,
awaiting his turn to alight on the narrow perch of the feeder to
partake of his breakfast. As he traverses the few feet to the
feeder, his place is taken by a mourning dove, a large though gentle guardian of the other
doves searching the ground under the feeder for a tasty morsel with
which
to start their day. This is one of the things I can never get tired of.
What is the "stuff" of a person who would not take pleasure
from
a scene such as this? I can fondly remember as a little boy, the
pleasure my mother got from feeding the birds. It was important to her,
it became important to me. Did I learn to love this small intimate
pleasure by watching her or was it something innate that I along with
all mankind are born with? Questions like this is what always makes
this time of morning so special to me. That tiny fraction of eternity
that is mine and mine alone. Do you take time for yourself today? I
find it to be one of life's greatest pleasures.
But
the birds are not all that rests at the window. New to life only a
scant 10 days ago, Linda's fledgling tomato plant is spreading its
leaves, green color deepening, spindlely stock evolving into a sturdy
stem. Of one thing I am certain. No tomato has had more affection
bestowed upon it than this youngster struggling to survive and
eventually thrive in this, our home on wheels. Where did she get this
intense pleasure she holds in planting seeds and pampering the
resulting plant which in return gives it's fruit to her to savor and
enjoy. Did she learn this from watching her mother on the small farm
she grew up on, or was it something she was just born with. It's not a
question with answer, but it is a wonder to behold. Life, what a
wondrous thing.
The time for the spring camping season is fast approaching.
We
know there some things on the work agenda that need to be
completed this week
prior to next weekends annual work weekend at the park. However we're
just not sure what they are, smile. So after our breakfast of oatmeal
and sliced strawberries, sweetened with Stevia and topped with walnuts
and cinnamon (you didn't think we could stay away from it two mornings
in a row did you?) we went down to the office.
Ron was in jovial mood, but then the man is almost always in a jovial
mood, and asked us to trim the trees blocking the road sign plus those
overhanging the entrance road and also the area in front of the office.
Sounds
simple, but the first problem was finding the pruning and trimming
tools. These are to be found in the recesses and crevasses of the "Tool
Shed". Understand this "Tool Shed" must be differentiated from the tool
shed that comprises the back section of the equipment shed. The
difference is slight but significant. Tools can easily be found in the
tool shed. Light and organization abound. The deft touch of a woman is
seen in order, categorization and neatness. Some piles do exist, but
they are organized. That is not the case with the Tool Shed". The hand
of man is readily apparent. Why organize when just the knowledge that
said tool is contained within its four walls is enough information to
eventually locate said tool. It is in there, therefore it is secure.
Man's desire is to have tools, to have those tools kept in a safe place
and to have the knowledge of these facts. The exact location of the
tool does not matter, what matters is that the tool exists. Thus it is
with the "Tool Shed", cornerstone of the Realm of Ron. One must
delicately approach such a depository for the keeper of the vault and
only the keeper of the vault knows where every hammer, every nail,
every scrap piece of wire, the broken knife or the box that once held
the drill is located. More important than actually locating what you
are looking for is making sure EVERYTHING is returned to exactly where
it was before you moved it.
With these
thoughts in our mind we opened the door of the "Tool Shed". Dame
fortune was smiling on us today and we quickly
located enough tools to at least make it look like we know how to trim
a tree without
disturbing anything in said shed. The first task was trimming the tree
that overhangs the sign out by the road. What can be difficult about trimming
a little old tree along a road in the western North Carolina mountains,
you ask. It has to do with that word - mountains. You know, canted,
inclined,
steep, precipitous. We needed to trim the tree back so the light that
illuminates it at night is not blocked. The lights are down on the side
of the slope, the sign perched high above. The only way to determine
the angle of the light was to descend down the slope to the lights with
trimmer in hand and using it to determine the path of the light, trim
the offending branches. Unfortunately no photo's were taken to document
the severity of this task, but suffice it to say, only a man of my
nearly superhuman balance and dexterity could have successfully
completed this job. If you think otherwise, you'll just have to attempt
it yourself, smile. Of course after the offending branches had been
cut, they, the trimmer and my by now more than slightly exhausted body
needed to be hauled back up the slope I had so smugly descended
those long hours ago, OK, it was only minutes, but it seemed
like
hours to me, lol. Finally the task was completed and Linda did her part
by hauling away the branches I had trimmed. She said we both did our
parts, I said yes dear, we
did, didn't we.
Next we
tackled the
branches that were overhanging the entrance
road. The road slopes downward so that it gives the illusion the
branches are much closer than they actually are. We had noticed these
branches the first time we drove into the park and commented to one
another that this would certainly be one of our jobs. Today it was.
Between Linda's sharp eye and my ability to manipulate the unwieldy
trimmer (I decided the trimmers we had on the west coast were far
superior to east coast trimmers. After all we have real trees like
Redwoods and Sequoia's out there, not these scrawny little
50 to 80 foot shrubs that pass as trees here, smile,) we tackled this
job. Twenty minutes later the entrance road was lookin' good. Again we
gathered up the trimmings and cast our eyes on the beautiful cherry
tree with the hanging limbs that stands in front of the office. Ron
came out and gave us some explicit instructions on what to cut and what
not to cut. With one or two, well lets just say, with a few exceptions,
designed only to improve the appearance of the finished project, we
sorta stuck to what he told us. Actually our trim job doesn't look too
bad and besides trees grow fairly fast so in a few years who'll notice
anyway, smile, just kidding, Ron.
The next job we undertook gave new meaning to our job title - work
campers. I've always been a hard worker. Exhausting physical labor
never bothered me, my Dad saw to that by introducing me to it at a very
young age and then by his and my great uncle's examples helped me
understand nothing is
impossible if you put your mind to it. But of all the jobs we did, the
one that I absolutely detested was thatching the yard. Dad was proud of
the yard even though it had more weeds than grass. It took a near
miracle to get anything to grow in the brownish yellow clay that passed
for soil where I grew up, So every spring I had to go out with the
garden rake and scratch up the "soil" and pull out the thatch. So what
was our next job today, it was to scratch and thatch the grass between
the sites, starting with site one and doing as many as we could of the
40 sites. Today for me, work camping became WORK camping, smile.
We did get a break when
the next work camping couple came over from Johnson
City to visit. They
had been here several years ago and were coming back since it is such
a nice place. My one hope is that the forecast is for rainy cold
weather for the next week or so. As that song goes Que sera,
sera. (Who knows, maybe Doris day will stop by the campground and
everyone will get so distracted they will forget about thatching the grass.) Finally the
WORKday ended and it was lunch time.
We fixed a plate great of turkey
wraps, yogurt, cottage cheese, grapes and pita chips. With food like
this I could even see myself thatching grass, lol. Spent the rest of
the day relaxing and watching TV.
We sure do enjoy having the national local channels on TV. Everyday we
know just how many people were murdered in each of the New York City
Boroughs and then later all the details of the latest high speed chase
in Los Angeles. Are we the modern hi-tech family or what. With cobbler
and ice cream once again closing out the day, we ended another week of
work camping.
Mar 17 Would you believe it, we had
shredded wheat for
breakfast. Of course the fact we are getting low on oatmeal
was a
contributing factor. Nonetheless, I still ended up slicing the
strawberries, smile. I know many people do not eat breakfast, but I
find we both find we get hungry if we skip it. Breakfast dishes done,
we were ready to start the day, being once again on our on. It is one
of those special days when the weather is warm, the trees are
blooming and the sky is a most intense blue. Makes you glad to
be
alive. Since we had some time before we needed to start, we decided to
do some clutter reduction inside the coach. Sure, I know I
just
spent time waxing poetic about how gorgeous this day is, but when
clutter reaches a certain point something's got to be done. We find
that when we're on the road traveling things get put back were they
belong, after all, who wants to spend extra time cleaning up every time
we move to a new place. It is different when we are parked for a while.
Habits erode, items we don't normally use are brought out for something
special and after a while the big house we live in starts shrinking.
The transition is not really noticeable at first. A coffee mug or tea
cup left out on the back of the counter. The oatmeal container not
returned to the cupboard because we will just need it again tomorrow
morning. Then the dam breaks and huge chunks of counter space
disappear, quickly followed by a chair or two and the couch. It ends
when Linda decides to reign me in. For my part, I'm a man, ain't I
supposed to live like a slob, lol, lol. I'll just say it's a mutual
effort attributable to both of us that generates and
removes
the clutter. It actually wouldn't take long to put everything away if I
could just learn not to politely inquire of my mate as to the reason
why this or that item was not put away. She claims I'm not teachable, I
claim to be easily distracted, she's probably right, sigh. Once she had
got my undivided attention and I understood what needed to be done, the
task was quickly and efficiently completed.
Emerging from a well organized coach, we donned our work camper persona
and jauntily approached the equipment shed. Almost before I knew it,
Linda had the garden tractor fired up and was backing it out. Now there
is a small untold story of how it got from the pavilion (with a dead
battery) over to the shed. If you'll remember, we had not been able to
get the battery charger to work, so we had simply left it under the
pavilion the other day. Turns out Ron went out the next morning to
check on it, whereupon it immediately started for him. He thought we
had charged the battery overnight and then unhooked it earlier in the
morning! We all had a good laugh when he told us it started right up
for him, though I thought I may have detected a twitch in Linda's face,
lol.
Todays project was installing landscape timbers on one side of
site 27. Ron and Becky endeavor to have no bare ground in the
campground. (bare ground + rain = mud) All the parking pads consisting
of a light colored stone and the area between them grass. This
type of stone locks together very well and forms a hard packed surface.
Unfortunately at this site there was no landscape timber barrier to
separate it from site 26. Over time the rock had slowly migrated down a
slight slope resulting in the widening of the pad to the
point that RV's parked on the site were getting too close to
the
ever decreasing in size, site next to it. I'm sure anyone in site 27
loved the extra room, but the opposite was true if you were in site 26.
Over the years we've camped in sites where I can relate to this
situation. Since we were not sure where to position the timbers,
yesterday we had placed a line of sticks from the back of the site to
the front and had asked Ron to arrange them where he wanted the
timbers. This made it easy for us to determine the line to follow. To
pull the gravel back into site 27 we used the rake, then for more
horsepower, the hoe and finally the shovel. Eventually we had a
prepared bed on which to lay, drill and spike the timbers. Since we
were only making 2 cuts today we used the hand saw rather than get out
the chop saw. The final preparation for the bed for the timbers took
some time. We have learned the more time you spend on getting the
timbers set right, the better the job looks. We had dug out a mix of
gravel, dirt, and white stone. Since backfilling with this would make
the
finished job look crappy to say the least, we got the wheel barrow and
screen so we could sift out the dirt and backfill with clean stone. A
little more work, but the results are a site that looks just like the
ones one on either side of it. Plus it gives us the satisfaction of
having done a job done right.
As we were hauling our tools back to the
shed, Ron & Becky drove in. It's always a good feeling to tell
them
what we have accomplished while they've been gone. They mentioned there
would be several campers coming in for the weekend, gave us the site
numbers and asked us to make sure they were ready for them. We cleaned
the fire pits and removed a couple of branches that were on the pads.
We asked ourselves if this site was in the condition we would want it
in if it was us coming in tonight and agreed it was. Before
the
evening was over, three RV's had pulled in and setup along the stream.
The season edges ever closer.
Our work done, we retired to the house
where I busied myself with the website and Linda surfed on the other
computer. Before we knew it, it was time to prepare dinner. I started
to type "fix supper", but that just doesn't due justice to what we do,
lol. We decided to have Salsa chicken, a deceptively easy dish that
requires a deft touch for perfection. My method is to take boneless,
skinless chicken breasts and pat completely dry. Prepare a rub from
equal parts chili powder, New Mixico chili powder (for a touch of
spiciness) and cumin. This is dusted on both sides of the chicken to
make
a very thin coating, then salt and pepper one side and saute'
over
medium heat in about 2 T EVOO for 5 minutes, grinding a good amount of
pepper only, no salt, on the other side once they are in the skillet.
Turn and saute' the other side for 5 minutes. Spread about 1 cup of
store bought salsa (I know, I know, but there's more coming) over and
around the breasts, cooking until any water has been reduced and the
salsa
thickens.
We enjoy this served over a bed of lettuce with chopped
tomato and onion, sliced avocado and a dollop of non-fat sour cream on
the side. The chicken is so tender it can easily be cut with
a
fork and the overall taste is simply divine. Now back to that store
bought salsa. We've found several truisms about store bought salsa. One
is that salsa made in "New York City" just doesn't cut it, lol. Another
is that cooking it this way seems to move it up on the spice index.
Part of that is the amount of ground pepper we use, if you want it to
be mild, don't use much or any ground pepper and make sure you start
with a very mild salsa. Of course you can always leave the New Mexico
chili powder out of the rub, but if you do that, then it's not a rub,
just some ground up brown and red stuff, smile. Next, make sure you
don't start with a salsa
high in sodium (salt) unless you like your food really salty. Took us a
while to figure that one out, but no longer have a problem with it
being to salty. We have used both fresh salsa and also the
kind
you by in the jar
or jug with excellent results. Our current favorite, and don't laugh,
is
Sam's Choice all natural Thick & Chunky Salsa from Wal-Mart of
all
places. It gives us just the right amount of taste and zip, plus we
only use half of the jar leaving the rest for dipping our chips in.
That allowed us to make a startling discovery tonight.
Remember those
Mission Whole Wheat Tortillas that were a complete washout for turkey
wraps? Well, Linda popped one in the microwave for a minute to a side,
that's how we make our dipping chips, and low and behold they turned
out
totally awesome. Over the years we've made hundreds of tortilla's into
chips this way and these were the best we've had in a long, long time.
I take this as a delicious but gentle reminder that
everything
has a
purpose. Sometimes we just have to spend more time searching for it,
smile.
This was the great start we we're looking for as tonight had
something very special coming up. The season ending episode of "MONK".
If you watch this show on Friday nights on USA Network you know what I
mean. If you don't you might want to try it some time. We find it
indescribably funny, you can get an idea what it's about from the Monk
Website. As we laughed and enjoyed peach cobbler and ice
cream, the day
came to a close.
Mar 16 How do you greet the day? What is
your
routine? Does it vary depending whether it is a weekday or the weekend?
For years mine was the same Monday thru Friday, differently the same on
Saturday and then again on Sunday. No more, for now the
start of each day is like the day before and the day after. A day of
life. Take this morning for example. Up early, sitting at the table, a
cup of
steaming
hot tea rests by my hand, the birds flocking to the feeder a scant
few feet away, a deer in the
small meadow across the stream, a day of life.
This my special time each day. Sometimes I listen to the
radio,
sometimes I just sit and look out the window, other times I read from a
book, though usually I use the internet to simply find something that
interests me. It may challenge me, cause me to think or merely
entertain me. This morning I was browsing, just like the deer I was
watching when the most delectable treat was presented to me. One of the
sites I enjoy is a poetry site; everypoet.com
For some reason I decided to browse the poetry of William Wordsworth,
one of the greatest of the English romantic poets. It was my High
School English teacher, Mrs. Jones who challenged me to broaden my
horizons and opened in me a life long love of great literature in all
its forms. But I digress as usual, smile. This site has all of the over
900 poems
Wordsworth wrote and which one should I pick, but the one that has
among its stanzas, the following two:
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
These are from the poem "Lines Written in Early Spring" which can be
found here.
As I said, Today is A Day of Life.
Since much of life revolves around food, be we bird, deer or
human; our attention eventually turned to the preparation of
breakfast. We decided to have Cream of Wheat once again, with
strawberries cut to my exacting specifications, so hence, cut by me,
smile. Let me fast forward, as they do occasionally on television
shows, to late morning today. We are hungry, we are very hungry and
this is something very strange. For the way we eat, no sugar, whole
grains, low fat, and a well balanced diet, we are never hungry. Yet
this morning we are. The only thing it could be is the cream of wheat.
We think back and Linda recalls she felt hungry the last time we had
it. But having watched to many politicians answer difficult questions,
I first ignored her, then when she asked again told her I couldn't
recall. While this always ends that line of questioning of the
politician, it didn't for me. Why can't this woman be as dumb and
docile as the average political reporter? Anyway back to the tale of
the food that makes you hungry. Whole grains in their natural form,
good, whole grains in a highly processed form, bad. For example:
Instant rolled oats, bad; rolled oats, good; old fashioned rolled oats,
better; thick rolled oats, best. We listen to our bodies. The cream of
wheat will become bird food. We hope it doesn't make the birds feel as
hungry it caused us to be.
I should probably excuse her for being a little tense as she was about
to undergo one of the trials and tribulations that every woman who
goes
on the road to live this life. The search for the solution to this,
put in genteel words, predicament, has consumed more than just a few
moments of her time. In fact some of the steps to ensure a more
positive outcome started before we went on the road. Ladies, you can
comprehend the emotional state she must be in this morning as she gets
ready for her first on the road haircut. No wonder she might have been
a tad snippy at my not remembering the results of eating cream of wheat
the first time. Trying to couch it in terms the male mind can fathom,
imagine facing the prospect of a tooth extraction where the odds are
99:1 that the dentist 'will not use a painkiller' prior to
extracting the tooth. Wouldn't you be more than just a slight bit
apprehensive about going? As described in a previous post, she had
gotten this hair dresser on a referral from a lady who had a somewhat
similar hairstyle. That certainly improved the odds of getting an
acceptable haircut. I wasn't sure what acceptable meant, maybe just bad
as opposed to really bad. She had always considered a haircut bad
wherever, Janene, her regular hair dresser cut the front to short. On
the other hand I considered that a good haircut (yes, we do agree on
some things and someday we will discover what they are, smile), thus I
was hoping for her kind of bad that is my kind of good. Just hope it
isn't bad for both of us as that would be really bad, as in really,
really bad. (all who wonder are not lost but, sometimes their readers
are, smile). Before we left home I took a series of mug shot like
photo's of her just after she had gotten a hair cut she really liked.
These, she printed off in living color and had brought along to show
whomever was cutting her hair, how she hoped to have it done. She drove
down to Marion by herself with images of Phyllis Diller
dancing
in her head.
Two and a half hours later she was back. The instant she
walked in the door her smile said she was pleased. She should be, it
was an excellent haircut. Maybe just a little long over her right ear,
but otherwise great. The length of her bangs was just right. She said
it had taken him almost an hour and fifteen minutes to cut it.
Unfortunately he was not able to color it. This was far more
unfortunate for me than for her. Talk about pressure. Let me assure
you, no human being on the face of the earth ever faced as much
pressure as I was now under.
But first there was a days work to be
done. Having now worked for more than two weeks we were
growing more and more familiar with the equipment, tools and work to be
done. Bottom line is, we are becoming much more proficient at what we
do. First job this morning is to redo a small square planter that is
quite apparent to arriving guests. The old landscape timbers have
mostly rotted away. Removing them we find the remnants of a second
layer below them. This is taking on elements of an archaeological dig.
Cleaning out the excavation we find rusted nails, a marble and pieces
of rotted wood. It all gets thrown into the trash can and we measure
for the the replacement timbers. So much for my dreams of being the
discoverer of some intriguing and important relic, sigh. Four
landscape timbers, four cuts, eight 12" spikes and 30 minutes
later the planter is completely rebuilt. We put the tools away and get
out rakes, shovels, the hoe, screen and wheelbarrow. Time to tackle
finishing the trench we dug to bury the satellite cable.
That's the cable that was buried last week, except for the "oops"
section. It was the "oops" section we planned to cover-up today. That's
cover-up as in bury in the ground, not cover-up as in obfuscate. After
we had told Ron of our minor altercation with the telephone cable we
had delayed burying it in case he wanted to have it checked and or
repaired. The time had come to literally bury our mistake. When the
shovel had come into contact with the cable (sanitized version of the
incident, smile), the outer cover us just nicked and only a very small
cut was made. We could detect no damage other than the cut outer wrap.
I cleaned some dirt off the cable as best I could and wrapped to
tightly with three layers of tape, being sure to extend it far beyond
both ends of the cut. Then we sifted dirt to make rock and soil, filled
in the trench and called it another job we could be proud of. (We
followed the out of sight, out of mind scenario with the cut, lol) Our
final job for the day was to tear off a section of lattice at the back
of the office, lay cinder blocks on the gravel under the office and
place the shutters used to provide winter protection for the office
windows on them. As you might guess, I was the one who crawled under
the office while Linda did what she could from outside. Translation: I
communed with assorted remnants of past inhabitants, whether 2 legged,
4 legged, 6 legged or 8 legged, bumped my head, back and shoulders on
the low beam while she placed the blocks within several inches of
actually being under the office. Remembering what happened yesterday, I
said nothing. Before long the blocks were placed, the shutters stored,
the tools put away and our completed for the day.
Unfortunately for me, as we walked back up toward the coach I
remembered that hair color time was has approaching. As this provoked
in me a feeling of intense distress, I became what could best be
described as extremely obnoxious. This was probably some subconscious
desire to tic Linda off so I wouldn't have to face the moment of truth
when she looked in the mirror at the coloring
job. Believe me, this one job I had no confidence in. The intense
pressure to design and manufacture a product in a totally unrealistic
time period that I faced many times in my previous job was nothing
compared to what stress I was under at this moment. As I endeavored to
get out of this ordeal, she just ignored everything I did. Finally
relenting to the inevitable, I asked if she wanted her hair colored
today. Now considerable time had passed since we returned to the coach
and the possibility she'd say it was too late or too cold was in my
mind. Her reply completely took me aback. "Was that why you were
seemingly so distant, you were worried about coloring my hair?", she
asked, looking both happy and puzzled at the same time. Why she was
probably as nervous about this as me, she just used a different way to
express it.
Before long we were outside at the picnic table, 2 ounces of color
fixer and a tube of color mixed and the first of the paste painted on
her part. Remembering how her hair dresser had showed me how to do
this, I worked down one side, then the other, touched up the front and
sideburns, then worked on the back. Please note how her hands appear in
the photo. I think you can detect both crossed fingers and hands in a
prayerful posture. Later after we were completely done and her hair
dried and combed, I had to admit I had done a very, very good job. I
little later I did discover small missed area in the back, but the way
her hair was cut, you can not see it. To sum up this experience, as FDR
said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." One thing for
sure, the next time it will be a lot easier in more ways than one,
smile.)
After
this our thoughts turned to food. Dinner was turkey and whole wheat
bread stuffing, boiled sweet potatoes and broccoli. Then later she hit
the jackpot. When we had been shopping the other day, we had bought
some really good looking peaches figuring we could come up with a
recipe to use them. Figuring they were at the peak of ripeness, Linda
got on the internet and after what seemed a much longer time than
usual, I heard the printer start. The result of all this was one of the
best desserts we have had in along time, a devinely delicious peach
cobbler with puffy pastry and a succulently, just sweet enough sauce
which surrounded perfectly baked peach slices. This one will definitely
be on the recipe page. She has been working hard on it and has the
basics done. Now it's time for me to get her info onto a web page
format, which is easier said than done. Look how far behind I am on
daily postings, smile.
Mar 15 Today is the day Ron is
scheduled to be released from the hospital, so
we are on our own again. Our plan is to continue replacing the
landscape timbers around the steam side sites at the upper end of the
campground. With The Sound and the Fury out of gas, we unceremoniously
push it out of the equipment shed, then use the garden tractor to pull
the trailer. One problem is there is room for only one person on the
tractor. That can easily be solved by one of us
driving the tractor and the other
setting on the front edge on the trailer, feet on the tongue. Before
the morning is over, I
decide that this is either the most uncomfortable "seat" I've ever sat
in, or Linda is purposefully driving over the roughest ground in the
campground, smile. And what we were doing involved a lot of my riding
on the
trailer, because every time we needed to cut a timber, we had to drive
up
front to where the cutoff
saw was located. It was neat to see just how much Linda was enjoying
driving the tractor. Maybe she was reliving her youth, when she was
growing up on a farm. More likely she was getting some kind of perverse
thrill out of watching me try to hang on for dear life, smile.
They say every piece of equipment has a mind of its own. I
was
sure this one did. Slowly at first, then with growing momentum, it
balks as Linda tries to start it. Each time the starter seems to grind
for a slightly longer period of time. The engine, instead of roaring to
life, begins to sputter to life, its reluctance
increasing with
every turn of the key. Linda asks me to try to start it. Instantly it
springs to life. Showing the wisdom only decades of marriage can
bestow, I remark, "Maybe it was ready to start and I just got lucky.",
smile. Back at the saw, cuts completed, she once again attempts to
bring it to life. By now I'm thinking maybe it's had enough with this
joyriding ex-farm girl. I sense that if this were a horse, the ladies
spurs would be flying, so I step off the trailer and try to start it
once again. With a little bit of throttle feathering it again sputters
to life. Showing the wisdom only decades of marriage
to the same woman can bestow, I shrug my shoulders and get back on the
trailer. Back at the campsite, as we mark another board, I notice the
steel set of her jaw. I figure there are probably visions of sledge
hammers dancing in her head by now. I just hope it starts for her this
time. Of course it won't. Neither will she let me try. Truly, if this
thing were a horse, she'd most likely be on the phone to the glue
factory right now, lol,lol. Finally she throws up her hands and with
all the vernacular a former Appalachian farm girl can get out in one
breath, states what she really
thinks of that hunk of metal. Though I was somewhat singed by the
fallout, I am able to function well enough to eventually coax some life
out of what
is now an iron mule really
starting to dig its heels in.
It's not running smoothly, but at least it's moving in the right
direction. Turning towards the trailer, I show the wisdom which can
only be attained by decades of marriage to this woman. Head bowed, face
frozen in a blank expression and with eyes downcast, I slowly
and silently
scuffle back to the trailer and take my seat. I watch as She removes
her hands from Her hips, foot poised, is She going to kick this poor
chunk of metal? With the same silence I displayed, but eyes ablaze, she
seats herself, shoulders thrown back, head up. Displaying the regal
posture of a reigning queen about to order the execution of one of her
most trusted subjects whose betrayal she has just discovered, I wonder
what is next?.
In my minds eye I recall a scene from the movie "Patton" where the
military convoy crossing a high bridge is blocked by a cart being
pulled by two mules who refuse to move for an old farmer. Patton's
solution was swift and sudden, unhesitating delivered with Pearl
Handled efficiency. Well, at least I know she can't do that I mused,
then recalled the Yellow
Handled sledge hammer in the trailer. No way I decided. About half way
down to the saw, knowing full well what certainly awaits it the next
time it won't start, it exhales a puff of black smoke, pops
several times and drops dead. Turning the ignition key only results in
a fast clicking
sound coming from the starter, nothing else. It reminds me of the movie
scenes when buzz of the heart monitor signifies someone's heart has
ceased to beat.
Guess you could say we are death to the motorized equipment around
here!! What to do now? We walk
up to the equipment shed to get the last tractor, the one used to mow
the grass, the one that is
Ron's pride and joy. My prayers are answered and it starts
as soon as She turns the key. I figure it realized what fate awaited it
if it crossed the Mad Woman of Marion. Soon we were taking the same
chain we used yesterday to tow The Sound and the Fury and are hooking
up to metal carcass now blocking the campground road. Rather I should
say, She was hooking up the chain. She had not
only driven the poor beast to an early and by my way of
thinking, undeserved
death, She was now humiliating the still warm remains. Just as the legs
of a frog which continue to kick even after the death of the
frog,
the beast had one last post death reaction.
When She started to tow
it, it dug in its tires and slipped the chain. Looking down She saw
what had happened
and in the next instant was at the back of the tractor, chain in hand.
I thought I could detect ozone in the air, so sudden was Her movement,
but before I could react, Her next action was even more astonishing.
When the chain had come loose the distance separating the tractors
became greater than the length of the chain. I watched, no amusement
displayed on my face as She attempted to pull the mower back closer to
the hulk. Finally I commented, "It might be easier if you back up the
mower." She looked up, my heart raced in my chest, this could go one of
two ways, either She would back up the mower or there might soon be two
dead carcasses in the road, one of which would be mine. A slight smile
crossed Her face, the one I've grown to love so much over the years,
and She said, "It would be, wouldn't it."
Soon both tractors were hooked together once again and we were moving
slowly to the side of the road. There was obviously a way to
disengage the transmission, however we could not find it. Since it
wasn't going anywhere soon we left it there and used the mower to pull
the trailer and finish our work. All done, we were
returning to
the equipment shed when Becky drove in with Ron. Everything had gone
well at the hospital and he would be as good as new in a couple of
weeks. That was great news and they seemed to be in a very jovial mood.
Deciding the time would never be better to deliver the sad
news
concerning the death of their equipment, I leaned in the car window and
brightly commented, "Well, we've been busy breaking your equipment
while you've been gone." Obviously tact has never been one of
my strong points, it may
not even be one of my weak points. In fact it doesn't even appear to be
part of the different beat to which my
life marches, smile. From the change of expression on Ron &
Becky's
faces, this might have not been as opportune a moment to break the bad
news as I had envisioned. Nonetheless, I plunged on, "The tractor up
the road just died and yesterday the golf cart also stopped." A heavy
sigh issued from Ron, my gosh, I thought, the man has just had a
medical procedure done to his heart, what if...., could I be charged
with involuntary manslaughter due to foot in the mouth syndrome?
The passenger door slowly opened and Ron extricated himself from the
small car. Swallowing hard, I walked around to the passengers side,
rapidly thinking, but not knowing what to say next. Ron had a
thoughtful expression on his face, a ray of hope tantalizingly dangling
before me, "Did the golf cart finally run out of gas?", he asked.
Relief flooding my being, I responded in the affirmative. From inside
the car I heard Becky's voice asking, "Did the tractor just keep
getting harder and harder to start until it wouldn't run at all." Talk
about instant happiness, heck my smile was so big it's a wonder it
didn't cause a momentary eclipse of the sun!!! As life returns to
normal, Ron shows us where the little lever is that is used to
disengage the transmission so we can push the tractor. We ask him where
we should tow it and he tells us that with the transmission disengaged
it is
much easier to push by hand than to pull. We need to get it over to the
pavilion so we can hook up the battery charger and get it running
again. Sounds easy, but remember we're not talking about the dynamic
duo here. While I might be on cloud nine, the distaff half of this two
person team may still harbor just a tad of resentment toward the hunk
of metal we have to push to the pavilion.
Looking at the task of pushing the tractor a fair distance and the need
to guide it between several tables under the pavilion, I ask Her to
please steer the tractor so I can push with both hands. Head bowed and
hands placed on the back of tractor, I push and the beast barely moves.
Redoubling my efforts and pushing with all the strength I can muster,
very slowly it begins to move. I'm wondering if Ron's
comment about it being easy to push may been in jest.
Again
I push with all my might when suddenly my foot slips and I look up.
Holy moses, no wonder it's hard to push, She's not standing beside it
pushing with one hand and steering with the other, She's
sitting
on the tractor steering it!!!!! Deciding discretion is definitely
the better part of valor, I say why don't we get a picture of this? She
agrees and tells me to go over to the coach and get the tripod. I start
to say what would surely be the wrong thing to say at this moment when
I realize that getting the tripod will give me time to think of a
strategy to get Her to help push. A little later the tripod is all set,
the camera is on the 10 second timer and everything is ready to take a
picture. The only problem is, I haven't thought of a way to entice Her
to help push the dumb thing.
Maybe I should rethink the phrase: dumb thing. After all, She
has
what She wanted, total dominance of the tractor. On the other hand,
with Her steering and me
supplying the locomotive power,
the tractor, cold chunk of metal that is, doesn't have to do a
thing . That leaves only me as the: dumb thing. Oh well, life
could be worse, somehow. I press the timer, dash over to the tractor
and pose by leaning on it. She says, "At least you could look like
you're pushing." I really push and low and behold it starts to move,
slowly at first then with more and more speed. I decide this really
isn't that hard when I look up and notice we're going down a small
slope that leads to the pavilion, no wonder its easy to push. Suddenly
it starts getting very hard to push again. I think,
what the heck. (or something approximating that) Here we are going
downhill and it is getting harder to push. This doesn't compute.
Glancing up I see Her foot on the brake!! "Please get your foot off the
brake, dear" is most definitely what did not
come out of my mouth. What did come out certainly accomplished the same
thing and definitely conveyed my extreme displeasure at Her actions.
Within a few seconds the tractor was safely parked near the electrical
outlet and a later review of the photo met with Her approval. Whereupon
She calmly explained that She had used the brake to slow down in order
to avoid hitting a picnic table. Man, a woman with both beauty and
brains, what more could a guy ask for. Ron had said the battery charger
was in the tool shed, so off we went to find it. After a long search in
a small shed we finally found it, or I should say Linda located it.
With misplaced confidence only work camper newbies can display, we
strode over to the pavilion. As Linda got out and set up the charger, I
lifted the hood of the tractor, revealing the battery, It was
small, does small mean 6 volts or does small mean 12 volts, but less
power? Who knows, not us. As I was getting ready to go to our
coach and check the internet, Becky came out of their coach. Seizing
the opportunity to procure the needed information and call an end to
this day of trial and tribulation, I asked her about the battery.
Moments later she had the answer from Ron, 12 volts. We then proceeded
to hook up the charger. Rather, we attempted to hook up the charger.
Actually, what we did was attach the leads to the battery terminals and
plug it in. Unfortunately, nothing happened. No lights lite, no meters
moved, no sparks flew. Nada, nothing, zip. We throw every switch we can
find, Plug, unplug and again plug-in each power cord. Same result.
Maybe there is a switch on the charger we are not seeing, All six sides
are minutely examined, no switch. Linda decides to go get her hair
dryer to check the outlets for power. Returning we plug into every
outlet in the pavilion, nothing. I notice the stupid thing has a ground
fault interrupter built in to the plug. Maybe it's tripped, I push it
then try every plug again. Maybe it was tripped before we
started? I take it over to the coach and plug it in. It runs
for a
microsecond and stops. I unplug it, push the black button and it
functions perfectly. Back over at the pavilion we try again with no
success. Suffice it to say we have put in far, far more than the
required hours again today. Leaving everything, including the hair
dryer, we head to our house and a chance to relax.
However, the day is
still not over. It's Wednesday, which
means dinner at Pleasant Gardens Baptist. Tonight is bar-b-qued
chicken,
the meal everyone has raved about. We get cleaned up and drive down
RT-80 It is fascinating how much shorter a trip seems once ypu've made
it afew times. Arriving, we have a most wonderful experience. Though we
have only been there twice, a number of people greet us and make us
feel totally welcome. We
really enjoy the meal and ensuing service. Returning home we relax,
have some ice cream and prepare to watch "Lost". When it comes on and
it is a repeat of one of the first episodes in the series, Linda
expresses her displeasure in no uncertain terms. Maybe we'll
go
back to watching CSI, New York. Network executives have to be some of
the stupidest people on the planet looking at most of the junk that
passes for entertainment. Is it any wonder we spend most of our time
watching the cable channels? (end of rant, smile)
Mar 14 It's back to work today, though the four
hours we
put in will not, upon reflection, really seem like work. It
compartmentalizes the
day, gives some regimentation to the hours and helps
prevent the relentless march of time from eroding our bodies. That was
one of my concerns when we changed our lifestyle. I did a lot of hard
physical labor, both at work and home, which kept me in excellent
physical condition. The question was how to maintain it when we would
have no required physical activities to help keep us physically
fit.While there were a number of reasons we decided to try work
camping, the physical activity has been more than a pleasant side
benefit. Our Tri-Cord elastic exercize gizmo still remains in it's
box, safely tucked away in one of the overhead compartments. Maybe,
Someday Isle, get it out and use it, but until we head in that
direction, I'll enjoy the journey we're currently on, smile.
Breakfast and time to slice more strawberries. They had a
good price on
them yesterday at the Supercenter, so there
are two more containers
residing in the refrigerator again this week. I can't help it that I
like what I like. I like most things that come with life, it's just
that I like some things a lot more than others, lol, lol. Before we
knew it the dishes were washed, dried and put away. Attired in work
clothes we retrieved our gloves and headed off towards the tool shed.
We
have been amazed at how pretty this little park nestled in the North
Carolina Mountains is. Something new is always catching my eye and this
morning it was the painted TV satellite dish that is mounted on the
wall of the office. It is non-functioning in the sense of providing a
link to the bewildering and often times useless array of TV programing
it was designed to provide. It functions perfectly to provide a
connection, through the artist that gave it life, to the beauty that is
all around us, even where we don't expect it.
Finally focusing our minds on the work to be done, we remembered today
was the day Ron, our campground owner, and Larry, the wonderful
neighbor from up the road, cross paths. Ron is going into the hospital
to have his heart catheterization done, while Larry is being released
from the hospital after Ron found him last week, unconscious on the
floor of his home. On our on again (notice how it rhymes with 'On the
road again', lol) it was time to once again confront "The Sound and the
Fury". After our earlier experiences with the wild first backwards ride
out of the equipment shed in the morning, we made one small change.
When we quit for the day at 2 PM, I back
TS&TF into the shed, that way I can at least see what its going
to
attempt to run into when I start it in the morning, smile. The thing
I've got to start doing is to put the beast into forward gear when I
back it in. It can be a real head popping eye opener when you tramp on
the gas in the morning expecting to go forward and it shoots backward,
smile.
This morning as we get read to start it we notice something, looking
closer we discover what beats within the heart of this beast. The
stock engine has been souped up with a Banks Power
Pack System!!!
Compared to a normal golf cart, this thing could have up to +53 hp and
+69 lb-ft torque. No wonder it sometimes
(at the wrong time) acts like a rocket ship, lol,lol.
The mystery of the overzealous golf cart solved we pulled it
out,
hooked up the trailer,
loaded all the tools, picked up some landscape timbers and headed of to
the premium streamside sites to replace any rotting, missing or termite
damaged landscape timbers. It's one thing to use all new timbers on a
site, but when we only need to replace a small piece or two, we always
try to use a piece of old timber in order to match the color of the
existing timbers. This takes a little more work, but it makes the site
look so much better.
As we worked toward the upper end of the campground
and were moving The Sound and the Fury when it stopped, quit, no sound,
no fury. Could it be out of gas? The first problem we encountered was:
where in
the heck is the gas tank? We finally locate it under the rear deck. The
access was covered by a board.
Unscrew the cap, look inside, see a
black hole with something a little shiny showing. bump the Beast, shiny
spot shimmers, maybe it's not out of gas? Get stick, insert in gas
tank, barely wet, at least we know it's out of gas. Unfortunately we
don't know what ratio of gas and oil to use and even if we did, we
don't know where the gas is kept. Sooo, we find a chain, drive the
garden tractor up to the site and ingloriously tow The Sound and the
Fury back to the equipment shed. I think maybe this has finally humbled
it. Linda thinks it's laughing at us. Odds are she's right, smile. This
means we have to hook the trailer up to the garden tractor to finish
the job. Lets just say we put in some extra time today, smile, smile.
After a day like today you just want to sit a while, have a nice dinner
and a relaxing evening. So we have an easy to fix dinner. We
simply heat up the leftover Beef Strogonoff, steam some broccoli, fix a
tossed salad, though due to a shortage of Romaine (it wasn't on the
shopping.....; but we have it every week; it wasn't on the list (said
tersely); okay (said meekly), get our "Abby fix" (NCIS), watch the
second episode of The Unit, which we thought was much better than the
first episode. The jury is still out on whether we will continue to
watch it or not, eat a chocolate brownie with chocolate swirl ice
cream, read some stories about life in the 1850's in the old south,
work on the website, as we hope to have our recipe page up by the end
of the month and called it a day. Not your typical day, but none the
less, a very satisfying day.
Mar
13 I hear somethin' sayin'
(hooh! aah!) (hooh! aah!)
(hooh! aah!) (hooh! aah!) (Well, don't you know)
That's the sound of the men working on the chain ga-a-ang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
So why do I hear the late, great Sam Cooke rattling around in my head
this early morning hour. Am I already becoming tired or disenchanted
with this work camping thing? NO Way. So what is it? Got an email from
one of my former co-workers about what was happening where I used to
work. That's what triggered this resurrection of the sounds of
punishment and pain. It's merely a retirees version of a nightmare!!!!
Besides that, why am I thinking about work today, anyway? It may be
Monday and the start of the work week for many people, but to Linda and
I, it's Spruce Pine day. When I asked Linda whether she wanted to go
down to Marion or up to Spruce Pine, she never even hesitated a second
before answering Spruce Pine. Slicing the last of the strawberries for
our oatmeal, we planned some of our meals for the week. We have found
that since we are limiting ourselves to one shopping day a week, we
need to alter how we cook our meals. Breakfast, usually being oatmeal
and fruit, is no problem. Neither is lunch, especially now that we've
concluded the great North Carolina wrap search. Between Splenda,
chocolate, whole wheat flour, pudding and fruit, plus don't forget
non-fat, no added sugar ice cream, we have dessert totally nailed big
time. That leaves dinner as the problem and a problem it is. The easy
solution would be to run down to Marion on Friday or Saturday and buy
what we need. By now it should be apparent that a contrarian position
is a way of life in this coach, or as a good friend once told me, "Bob,
you don't march to the beat of a different drum, you march to something
that probably doesn't even have a beat." That rules out going down to
Marion, so what is left but to plan our meals, and that's just what we
did. For the foreseeable future we're going to continue eating the fish
and meat out of our freezer, so we need to know what recipe we'll be
using in order to have the items on hand we'll need. Enter the specter
of
the 'shopping list', something we haven't used for many months.
For
breakfast Linda surprised me with an omelet. And not just an omelet,
but one accompanied by Canadian Bacon and toast with our homemade
sugarless peach jam. Lest you think we've discarded our love for
oatmeal, the omelet allowed her to use the last of the eggs so she
could buy another dozen at the store today. I'm not sure why
you can't buy eggs with some still in the refrigerator, but I
have
the definite feeling it's one of those questions I'm much better off
not asking, smile. As we ate, the pair of cardinals came by the bird
feeder for their breakfast. We get so much pleasure from something as
simple as watching two birds. Looking up we were surprised to see a
deer on the embankment by the stream. This definitely necessitated
pictures, so below you can see the cardinals and also the deer.
Breakfast eaten and the dishes done, we headed up the mountain. This is
our second trip to Spruce Pine and it seemed to go much faster than
last weeks drive. Last week we stopped at every overlook and exit on
the Blue Ridge Parkway, today it was just a road that goes to Spruce
Pine. Our first stop was the Museum of North Carolina Minerals which is
just off the Parkway at the Spruce Pine exit. It is a National Park
Service museum and is it ever neat. It tells, explains, shows,
demonstrates and involves you in the gems and minerals of North
Carolina. Here are some of the photo's we took in the museum. If you
have even a remote interest in geology, rocks, minerals or gems this is
one of those "little gems" you shouldn't pass by!!
Next we dove into town to ship our old stove top back back to the
dealer. This is one of those simple tasks that turned out to be far
harder than it should have been. One of the problems with this life, is
always calling a new town your home. A town where you don't know where
anything is at. We had looked up the address for the package shipping
store on the internet (it needed to shipped via UPS). We drove down
Locust Street, which was in old part of town, looking for the address,
but not seeing it. Turning around we drove in the opposite direction,
again not seeing it. After a little wandering due to
prohibited
turns and bridges, we returned to Locust Street and parked the
Explorer. We set off on foot to find the reluctant shipping store.
Having parked near one end of the street we walked all the way to the
other end, no shipping store. Walk to the other end, no shipping store,
heck not even a street number that matches the address we have. As we
walk back to the Explore Linda sees a paper on a vacant building. First
it says the addresses on these buildings are in error and they are
working to correct the mistake. My problem with this notice was, the
darned buildings had to of been well over a hundred years old. Just
when had they noticed there was a problem with the numbers and for how
long had they been working on getting it corrected, smile. Next to that
notice was another one saying the shipping store had moved and was now
across from the post office on Oak Street, just past the tire store.
Now that was a big help. At least if we can find Oak street we can
drive on it till we come across the Post Office. We figured it was
close to downtown, but when your in an old mining town that's been
carved out of the side of a mountain, things are never where they seem.
We did finally find it and sent the stove top on its way. Darned thing
had been in our way for almost two months. We looked for a regular
grocery store during our wanderings but couldn't find one and headed,
we thought , back to Wal-Mart. Never underestimate our ability to make
a wrong turn and stumble upon something neat. Making the aforementioned
wrong turn, we noticed piles of something white along the road in the
distance. What could it be, salt? No, we're in the mountains. Maybe
white sand? Then it hit, Feldspar. As we had learned at the
mineral museum, most of the Feldspar mined in the US is mined right
here in Spruce Pine. If we had tried to find this place, we wouldn't
have.
We finally made it to the Wal-Mart, bought everything on the list
including more ice cream and headed for home. We did stop at one of the
overlooks to make some phone calls as there is no cell phone reception
along Rt-80 between Marion and the Parkway. While there we took some
black and white photos. Returning to the campground, we grilled salmon,
then later Linda baked brownies, which we ate warm topped with ice
cream for dessert.
Mar 12 We are going through a siege of
the most
unseasonable weather, and do we love it. Today is supposed to be
another day in the 80's. This goes beyond 'Chamber of Commerce'
weather, into the 'once in every so
many years' category. Being as it's a day off for us, we are a little
extra lazy this morning. There are long leisurely sips of hazelnut
coffee for Linda, while I luxuriate in the subtle delights of a cup of
hot apricot tea. I wonder what formed our preferences, what lead us to
what we drink in the morning. Both my parents were avowed coffee
drinkers when I was young, but it was an 'adult' drink so I had to
drink hot chocolate. It wasn't like I was forced to drink it. In fact I
was like many kids, I loved hot chocolate, but we only had it in the
winter. Though I don't remember how mom fixed it, I do remember we
always had a little tin container of Hershey's cocoa on the self. You
know, the kind that had the little round metal pop out cap that stuck
so it had to be pried off and then when it finally came loose, flew off
and rolled around the kitchen floor. Ah, memories, but isn't that what
makes life what it is. Wonder what memories we've help plant in the
young of today? Were they good, bad, were they memories of joy or
disappointment? We'll never know, but I'd like to think, someday,
someone, will have the same smile I now have on my face, as he or she
thinks back to childhood.
Since
it is Sunday morning, that means cleaning time around our house. Linda
laughs that the hardest part about cleaning the coach is getting me to
lift up the bed so she can get the sweeper out. We originally stored it
in one of the bays, but now keep it under the bed for convenience. The
process of cleaning goes swiftly, I generally try to stay out of the
way as much as possible, swooping in to move furniture (the 3 dining
chairs and the Euro-lounger) when needed, then shake the front throw
rug. All the while, soothing music is playing on the radio. The coach
radio has three sets of ceiling speakers, so we are surrounded by music
everywhere as we work. This has all the tell-tale signs of being a
pinch-me moment. A beautiful warm spring morning in the mountains of
North Carolina, the birds chirping, sunlight streaming through the
windows as we clean our home on wheels. Wasn't it just a little more
than 3 months ago that we were wondering what this life would be like,
sitting in front of the computer in our stick house, reading of someone
else's life on the road? Not even in my wildest imagination could I
have understood how truly wonderful this life of adventure and joy
really is. Maybe that is why I sit at this keyboard, typing away and
pouring my heart into these writings, feeling almost compelled to share
our day so others may understand the joy of the journey that is our
life on the road.
Looking out the window at the bird feeder, we see new feathered friends
visiting today. The males dressed in their finest, the females eating
constantly, preparing to produce the next generation they are
about to raise. In the tree, which provides a perch for both birds and
our feeder, we spy a hint of orange, a color we have not seen before.
Birders we are not, but lovers of nature and the
world around us, we are. We can't identify the new bird, maybe it's a
sparrow, we don't know, but it definitely has an orange belly. Not a
bright flashy orange, a gently subdued orange.
The kind that would tend to appeal to a female looking for a good
solid mate, a mate that would help build and clean the nest, bring
seeds to feed hungry babies and later sing a song of joy as they leave
to start out on their own. A flash of movement catches our eye. There
on the ground below the feeder is a pair of mourning doves. They walk
with an almost regal splendor, seemingly tethered together, searching
and finding bits of food cast aside by the birds who visit the feeder
hanging above. Then the sound of a sharp bark and they take flight, the
cooing and flapping sounds so distinctive as they rise ever higher,
turning, then disappearing behind the coach. The dog's bark reminds us
we are in a campground and that it is just about time to walk across
the road to the little country church.
This morning there are 12 people in attendance, but the walls still
ring with joyous old time hymns. Hymns that remind me of the small
country church my parents took me to as a little boy. More than once,
I've sat in a church listening to a preacher struggle to make sense out
of some seemingly obscure and convoluted passage. That thought filled
my mind this morning as the verses were read. You know, you don't have
to be some famous preacher with thousands in attendance every Sunday,
to preach a good sermon. The preacher in this tiny country church did
just what I would do if I were discussing what I had just heard or
talking about some normal event in everyday life. He simply talked
about the things that mattered and skipped the confusing, convoluted
parts.
Later, we fixed lunch, and since it was Sunday we decided to do
something different today. Sunday evening has traditionally been our
Mexican meal. We still had the leftover chicken and tomatilla sauce
from last Sunday so why not use that to make quesadillas for lunch.
Then we can fix something new for dinner!! Soon a whole wheat tortilla
(good way to use up those Mission tortillas we have rejected for turkey
wraps) is in the skillet, next goes a layer of the chicken &
tomatillo sauce mixture, this is covered with grated low-fat cheese and
a second tortilla goes on top. Heated for a while until the cheese
barely starts to melt, then it is flipped and heated till the cheese is
completely melted. Removed from the heat, we cut it with a knife into
quarters. We find the Mission tortillas to be tough and hard to cut.
Blasted things aren't much good for anything!!! We topped the wedges
with salsa (we bought it already made) and non-fat sour cream, then
added a scattering of chopped green onions. Other than the danged
worthless tortillas, it was a good treat and a nice change from our
usual turkey wraps.
After lunch we spent
time just relaxing and sitting outside enjoying the sunny warm weather.
Camped across from us this weekend was
a family with two girls in a travel trailer . We had watched
them
eat out at the table, sit around their campfire, play Boccie ball in
the grassy area and throw a ball for their dachshund to chase. Now we
watched as they slowly packing up and prepared to leave. To go back
home. To go to school. To go to work. To go do the same exact things we
had done for years. As we sat and talked we discussed how
much fun we had had on those weekends. First by ourselves, later with
the kids and more recently with our grandson. Did we miss it?
Yes,
in a way. Then as we continued to talk the trailer pulled out and left.
Linda looked over at me and said, "They're gone."
We got up and
walked over to the stream and stood silently watching and
listening
as it rolled past, rushing to a place we're either going to or have
already been to. Linda whispered,
"There's a duck in the stream" Sure
enough, there was a duck floating contentedly in one of the calm areas
caused be a pile of rocks and sticks. The blossoms were showing in the
Bradford Pears. Slowly we walked back over to our home. The life we
live is so awesome.
After all this, dinner was almost anticlimactic. We had a small piece
of sirloin tip in the freezer, so it was forked and pounded to make it
tender, cut into small pieces and cooked with sliced mushrooms and
onions, then bathed in mustard and non-fat sour cream, stirred together
and served over whole wheat pasta with a salad and steamed broccoli. It
is a dish that has an interesting twist. It smells awful and tastes
wonderful. The first time we ever made it, I wasn't sure I wanted to
eat it. Now that we've made it a few times I still have difficulty
getting that first bite into my mouth. Once I do the old automatic food
conveyor takes over and the plate is quickly emptied. Just another
tidbit in the stream of events that makes up our life. A life that
allows us time to do something as simple as looking at the flowers.
Mar 11 The
bird feeder makes the morning a challenge, as we seem to want to just
sit and watch the birds rather than get breakfast ready. Up
until
now the only birds we have heard in the morning are "chirping birds" we
hear on our funky little radio. It has a sleep and alarm setting that
imitates the sound of birds chirping of all things. But this morning we
were hearing the real
thing. Wow, that bird feeder really works! Linda stood by the window
with the camera for the longest time, hoping to get a picture of the
pair of cardinals. Of course as soon as she put the camera down, the
male flew up to the feeder. So up she jumps with the camera and the
bird flies away. She waits and waits, puts down the camera and within a
minute he is back. This time she sloooowly reaches for the camera and
instead of taking a picture, moves toward the window. Of course the
cardinal flies off again. As you can imagine, I'm dying to her
"Why don't you just take a picture instead of trying to get
closer?" But fortunately, my sense of self preservation is strong
enough that I keep my mouth shut. A little later she again picks up the
camera and quickly takes a shot. Now say what you want, but I think the
ability to capture a cardinal in full flight takes either real talent
or lots of luck. I have my opinion, but I'm keeping my mouth shut,
smile.
This was another day without any direction from Ron or Becky on what we
were to do, so we just did, starting with the job of
renovating
the front planter. It wasn't a hard job physically, it just required
getting all the tools out, bringing the chop saw over near the planter,
connecting the electric cord, hauling the new landscape timbers from
the stock pile,
measuring, cutting, fitting, drilling and nailing them in place.
Nothing we hadn't done many times in our former life when our house
didn't have wheels. But still, very time consuming. Then, just as we
were trying
to decide how to finish the front of the planter, Ron & Becky
drove
in. After getting unloaded, Ron came over to see how we were doing. One
of the great things about being the work camper rather than being the
Boss, is you can ask how the Boss would like the job done. Asking
someone else to do the figuring rather than
having to do the figuring for someone else, makes for one of the joys
of retirement. Soon
all three of us were down on hands and knees trying to determine the
best way to finish the planter. Ideas blossomed, then faded, timbers
were held this way and then that way, till one design finally rose high
above all the others. That decided, Ron left and Linda & I
finished
the planter. It was such a good job, we had to get a picture of it.
Interesting how the feeling of satisfaction we've always gotten from
doing a good
job continues on in our life, no matter where we are or what we're
doing.
Noticing it was nearing lunch time and having worked steadily for quite
a while, we decided to take a lunch break. We were eager
to try something new for lunch today. You see, while we have continued
to eat our beloved turkey wraps each day for lunch, something has been
lacking lately. We have discovered the quality of whole wheat wraps is
not the same in North Carolina as it has been up until now. The best we
can do is Mission 96% Fat Free Whole Wheat Tortillas. Adequate, but not
outstanding, and as long time readers have learned, we are true turkey
wrap aficionados and connoisseurs. We may be to turkey wraps what Wimpy
is to hamburgers, lol, lol. Anyway, always on the lookout for that
elusive next higher level of culinary delight, we had purchased some
wraps from Wal-Mart of all places. Our turkey wraps were going to be
constructed on "Light Flat Out" today. Not technically tortillas, but
when you going for the gusto, reach for the stars, or flat bread as the
case may be. Just to be as wild as possible we had selected the Italian
Herb style as opposed to the regular style. Of course the fact they
were out of the regular style made our decision easier, in more ways
than one (maybe these things are so good they sell out of them).
Initial verdict is two thumbs up. This is a definite improvement, to
our tastes buds at least, over the dull, drab, tasteless Mission
tortillas. We do suspect there is no finer Liver Mush made anywhere
outside of North Carolina. It's just that somehow Linda finds it far
less than merely unappetizing, so it will not darken our refrigerators
doors. Personally, I'd like to try it, but some things are fated to
never happen.
Back
to work, we moved a bunch of rocks in the wheel barrow (I thought it
would be easier than using the golf cart and trailer, it wasn't) and
place them around a guy wire and pole. We put landscaping fabric under
the rocks to prevent the weeds from growing through. (That fabric has
got to be one of the best things ever to hit the landscaping industry).
Of course Linda and I had a discussion over how much fabric to trim
off. My opinion prevailed, but then I also had the scissors. Realizing
that quiting time was long, long past, we started putting away all the
tools and equipment we got out. I just can't get over how fast the time
goes by when we are working. It was almost 4 PM when we finished,
that's almost 2 hours longer than our normal four hour day.
All this work called for something special tonight, so Linda started
looking through her cook books and came up with an apple crisp for
dessert. It was easy, Rome apples, Splenda, ICBINB, maple flavor,
oatmeal, cinnamon and nutmeg. Simple easy and man-o-man delicious. Even
more than delicious when paired with chocolate sundae swirl no fat, no
sugar added ice cream. Healthy food that knocks your socks off with
great taste and texture.
Mar
10 What a glorious morning, makes me
think of that wonderful song Cat Stevens sang, "Morning has
broken" It
goes: Morning
has broken, like the first morning, Blackbird has spoken, like the
first bird........ and as I look out the window of the
coach this
morning I am greeted by sound of the birds attracted to our new bird
feeder. We need to get out the bird book, we see chickadees, a tufted
titmouse, and finches, still dressed in their winter olive
drab,
but with hints of the bright yellow that heralds the coming of spring
and the mating season. Joining this throng is a woodpecker who boldly
starts drilling holes in the tree next to the bird feeder. Did
we
see a flash of red? Yes, it's a male cardinal, quickly joined by his
mate. She may look drab to us, but the way he struts around her says
that she's the most beautiful bird in the world to him. The birds seem
excited to find the feeder, and inside our coach we too, are excited
the birds have found the feeder. Already we are thinking of them as
'our birds'. Yet how foolish of us to covet the wonders of nature. We
speak of our land, our stream, our orchard, always, our, our, our. Each
of us claims these things as our own personal posession, but are
they?Are they mine or do they belong to all mankind. Humanity, isn't it
wonderful!!!!!
Before
we knew it the oatmeal was eaten and the workers were ready for another
day. Ron & Becky were going to be away again to today, so we
decided to tackle the large planter that greets everyone as they pull
into the park. Our first thought was to replace just the timbers that
were missing or rotted. We pulled some timbers from the pile and laid
them out. We quickly decided that to make it look right we would have
to replace all the timbers. The good timbers we pulled out could be
reused in areas like the road side sites where there were
some missing. Using the
crowbars and hammer we slowly demolished the existing timbers. Then
removed the excess dirt that had
accumulated in the places where the timbers had rotted
away.
It was while shoveling
some of the dirt that we first noticed it. It was just a flicker of
color
the first time. Further
digging revealed it again, the prettiest iridescent blue line I have
ever seen. quickly it was gone. What could it be? Was it some child's
plaything, but if it was, why was it so shiny and why had it
disappeared? Digging in the loose moist soil uncovered the most
beautiful little lizard we had ever seen. I tried to get a picture, but
it was to fast at burying itself. Later we looked it up and discover it
was a five lined skink. You can read more about it and see a picture here.
With the brilliant blue tail it was obviously a youngster.
Later as we were relaxing in the coach, Linda checked on the tomato
seeds she had planted a few days earlier. Planted in a mix of compost
she had brought from some we had made several years ago and some black
dirt she had picked up in Texas, the first plant
was starting to peek through. Being the farm girl she is, she had used
placed the container on a cupboard shelf over a recessed halogen light
which she left on 24 hours a day to provide bottom heat to aid in
germination. I'll tell you, this woman really loves her tomatoes.
Reading about Ron & Terry, the Hitchitch.com
guys and their tomato plant only makes her want to do even better.
After actually seeing the "The Tomato Plant" in Quartzite,
she
knows it can be done. Just hope I don't get into having to lug some
huge container in and out of the coach like they have to every night,
ha, ha.
We had one other good thing happen to us today (other than our turkey
wraps at lunch) and that was we are now receiving the local New York
and Los Angeles ABC, CBS, FOX & NBC stations on DirecTV. No
more
fuzzy pictures over the antenna as we try to watch NCIS or Survivor.
Linda is one real happy girl. I had read all the the forums on RV'ing
for a long time and many of them are filled with frustrated posts about
how hard or impossible it is to get the Distant Network Stations. After
reading far to many of these posts, I finally decided the majority of
the people either just don't read the instructions on the DirecTV
website, or if they do, don't follow them. One thing they require is a
copy of the RV registration. We had to wait until we received our
registration from the DMV before we could send in the form. We had also
asked the DirecTV Customer Service Agent for a copy of the RV waiver
form. Since we hadn't recieved it yet, we downloaded one off of the
net. (A day later we also received the form we asked DirecTV to mail
us). We filled it out exactly as they requested, attached a copy of our
RV's registration and exactly 11 days later we tuned to channel 380 and
there was the New York CBS station! They say it takes 11 to 14 days to
verify the information and activate the DNS service and they were right
on. The link to the DirecTV DNS page is here.
Mar 9 This is going to be a busy day. We
have our
appointment at Tom Johnson RV this morning and a concert tonight. Our
breakfast was cold cereal and milk. No strawberries today! Since we had
to be down to Marion by 8 AM we're going to have to get back into our
traveling mode once again. Included in the list of things we wanted the
dealer to look at was the angle of the outlet and valve for the black
water tank. This meant dumping the black and gray tanks before we left.
Now, this where I really love the Sani-Con system. Just unscrew the
little green cap, screw the waste hose outlet into the campgrounds
threaded connector, open the black tank valve and hit the pump switch.
When the tank is empty, the sound of the pump changes, so repeat the
procedure for the gray tank. When it's empty unscrew waste hose outlet
and replace the little green cap. It's so simple with absolutely no
mess, I love it! Before we knew it, I was driving down twisty, curvy
Rt-80 towards Marion with Linda following in the Explorer. We arrived
at the dealership just before 8 and pulled around back to the service
area. I was surprised to find five other RV's already there.
It
appeared several
were new coaches being readied for pickup. Linda was as prepared as
always, with a printed list of all the things we wanted done on the
coach. It included installing the stove top we had been hauling around
since late January, repair or replacement of the slide motor that
stopped working when we were in Quartzsite, fixing the washer leak and
replacing the carpet, replacement of the cracked sink cover, fixing
the oil
pressure, trans & oil temperature
gauge, checking the dump valves, plus several other minor things that
either did not seem to operate correctly or were broken. The walk thru
with the service writer was handled very quickly and efficiently and we
left with a good feeling. Our plan was go into town for a while to give
them a chance to get into the work and then stop back by. We parked the
Explorer along the main street through town and spent some time
immersed in what exactly Marion is and also what it used to be. As with
most towns, the old time retail establishments have mostly moved out of
the downtown area to the strip malls that line the state highways
leading into town. This leaves an interesting mix of vacant stores,
unique businesses, buildings under repair, buildings in a major state
of disrepair and a few traditional businesses along the main street. If
you're like me, you are not walking down a street of dilapidated
buildings, your somewhere back in time. Maybe 1955, for example. The
main street of 2006 we are walking along has 2 lanes of traffic on both
sides, with intermittent parallel parking. As I walk I imagine what it
may have looked like 50 years ago. Maybe one lane in each direction
with cars parked at an angle, old cars, some having running boards,
others having a sun visor over the windshield. Big 4 door cars that
whole families come to town in. I see many people walking on the
sidewalk, stopping, talking, window shopping. Boys and girls excitedly
pointing to window displays of toys and the things of childhood, women
glancing longing at the gaily dressed mannequins in the storefront
displays as their children tug them down the street. I hear the wooden
floors creaking as shoppers move through the stores, and the
distinctive
jingle of the cash registers as the clerks ring up another sale. How do
you walk down main street? What do you see and hear?
The one thing
that always gets me about these small towns is how the
banks ruin the town with their desire to appeal to their customers by
being modern, whether by replacing their beautiful old building with an
ugly, garish new one that in no way fits the town or by modernizing the
facade and interior of the existing bank. Aren't they telling everyone;
you don't want to shop at any of the old buildings here on Main Street,
shop at the sleek modern ones on the outskirts of town, because modern
is where it's at, just look at our building, we didn't want to be like
all these other old fogies here on Main Street. The buildings that
tend to be maintained pretty much in a state of suspended animation are
the churches. As we walk through town we see two that obviously came
from different times. The First Baptist Church of Marion is an
imposing red brick edifice on the north end of Main Street. From
appearances, at one time it was the grandest building in town. Now,
ever so slightly tattered around the edges, it still retains a regal
splendor dating from the time when Marion was "old Marion". You can see
the same people who were downtown shopping on Saturday now walking
towards church on Sunday morning. Not just a few people,
but throngs of
them, everyone dressed in their Sunday finest. Perhaps
one of the
dresses that just yesterday
was on a store mannequin, adorns one of the young mothers walking to
church this morning. Boys, uncomfortable in their Sunday suits, maybe
sporting a bow tie, race along the sidewalk, eager to go to Sunday
School and see their friends. A couple of blocks off Main Street we see
another church. Large, imposing, high on a hill. Maybe it was built at
about this time we're dreaming of, maybe a decade or two earlier. Other
than the name on the front of the building, was there any difference
between the people that attended First Baptist or First Presbyterian?
Did all the "older" residents belong to the Baptist Church and the
"newer" residents belong to the Presbyterian? Maybe it was a mill or
mine owner that was the benefactor of Presbyterian church,
while
the bankers and shop keepers attended the Baptist church. While we may
never know the answers to those questions, we do know they have, and
continue to play a role in the life of the small town named Marion,
North Carolina. Don't ever let any young person tell you history is
just some dumb, stupid, useless information written in books. It lives
just as much
today
as it did yesterday, it's what made today, today.
We stopped by the dealer to check on our motor home. They had already
fixed a number of items, including cleaning all the carpet, Turned out
that rather than replace the wet carpet they had a carpet service come
in and treat it with mold and mildew preventative chemical and clean
it. Because it was such a small area, they also cleaned all the carpets
in the coach. We spent time with the techs going over the repairs they
had made and received instruction on why somethings operated the way
they did. They are going to order a new slide motor, sink cover and
closet latch. They thought they would be done by early afternoon and
would call us when it was ready to be picked up. We left and headed
back into town, stopping at a graphics store to order a decal made for
the back of the coach. Did some shopping, made an appointment for Linda
to get her hair done. This was interesting because one of her fears has
been the horror stories she has read on the net about how so many
full timers get their hair butchered when they have their hair cut. At
the
church dinner last night she noticed one of the ladies had a hairstyle
that was very similar to Linda's. She asked the lady where she got it
cut and that was where she made the appointment. Will give everyone a
blow-by-blow account of how it turns out next week.
Returning to the dealer, we picked up the coach and drove back up the
twisty, curvy road to the campground. Have to admit either they
straightened the road quite a bit since we drove up a week ago, or the
road wasn't nearly as curvy as I thought it was, lol,lol. Back at the
campground we got ready to go to a concert. The entire evening turned
out to be a wonderful experience of once again being exposed to
something new. Our life truly is an adventure. Ron and Becky had season
tickets as did Larry & Melinda, but because Larry was still in
the
hospital we used their tickets. The music was southern gospel, as sung
in this area. It was an hour drive down to Rutherfordton where the
concert was held. The R-S High School auditorium had great seating and
acoustics. Prior to the concert they have a free will
offering spaghetti dinner put on by a
local service organization, so we not only had two meals this week,
with both being a spaghetti
dinner, they were on consecutive nights. By the way, I chose the
chocolate brownie for dessert again, smile. The concert series is
promoted by the Carolina
Gospel Association
(great organization, but not much of a website) and features regional
professional southern gospel groups. This was our first exposure ever
to this style of music and we found it very enjoyable. The groups that
performed were the Trinity
Quartet and The Inspirations.
Apparently The Inspirations are THE group for this type of sound, so we
got to experience it in it's finest form. (There was a huge difference
in the quality of music between the two groups. Don't think the Trinity
Quartet was bad, rather it was that The Inspirations were that good).
Reflecting on the experience, here we were, once again being presented
with fork in the road on our adventure. We could take the
safe
and familiar, the Interstate Highway so to speak, and watch an evening
of TV, read or do the familiar, or we could take the Blue line, the
State or even the County road and really see the country we were
passing through. As with our taking the side roads in our travels, I'm
glad we took the opportunity to once again be exposed to something new,
how can we ever know
what's out there if we never look!!!!
Mar 8 Today we broke the mold on
breakfast, well, at
least partially. I'm still slicing the strawberries just the right way,
but what they are served on changed. The last time we we were at the
grocery store, we got to looking at some of the other hot cooked
cereals. Now don't go thinking we're getting tired of oatmeal, cause
we're not. The taste, plus the nutritional and health benefits of
oatmeal are so wonderful that it could never be replaced in our diet.
Still, they say variety is the spice of life (fresh ground pepper ain't
so bad either) so as we were perusing the shelves, a box of Cream of
Wheat caught our eyes. After studying the label and the nutritional
information, the decision was made to put a small box into the cart. A
quick stint of comparison shopping resulted in the first box being
replaced with a larger size that cost only a few more cents. Summed up,
small size National Brand versus large size store brand, with the
ingredients and nutritional iinformation being the same. Is there
something I'm missing here or is it that we are simply paying for all
that advertising they spend trying to maintain an image of quality and
value? Sorry, but I cast my economic vote with my dollar bill for the
store brand. I'll ever be grateful to my high school economics teacher,
Mr. Bindas, for teaching me I have the most powerful vote there is, the
choice of where I spend my money, the dollar bill vote, he called it.
Hard to believe that class was over 40 years ago and I can picture it
as if it were just yesterday!!! We decided the cream of wheat was good
for a break, but didn't have the rib sticking flavor and satisfaction
which oatmeal gave us. It will fit in well with those mornings we have
lots of strawberries, but want a break from oatmeal.
Before
long it was time to head off and return to the trench
warfare
of yesterday. Well, not exactly warfare, but it quite a battle to dig
through that rocky crud that passes for dirt in these hills. Since we
would be on our own again, we planned to finish the trench we started
yesterday, then seed the grass areas we had filled in last week and if
time permitted, water the Hosta we had transplanted. Fortunately we we
able to accomplish all of these tasks. We knew Ron & Becky were
deeply emotionally evolved with Larry and his wife, Melinda, so we
wanted to get some things done around the campground we thought they
would feel were important. Ever so slowly, but ever so surely we
extended the length of the trench. Before we knew it, the upper
end had been completed and it was time to begin burying the
satellite cable in the trench. Rather than backfill the trench with the
mix of rock, soil and wood we dug out it, we first sifted the dirt and
used the fine soil to bury the cable. This we tamped down by using our
feet. Next we put a layer of the rock and wood we had remaining after
we sifted the soil to provide a "marker" in the trench. This was
followed by the left over dirt and the job was finished off by raking
the gravel back into place. When we were done you couldn't even tell a
trench had ever been dug.
Well, almost, we didn't
cover the damaged telephone cable to allow
for any repairs that need to be
made. I felt really bad about it,
but when I later told Ron about it, he said don't worry, those things
happen. We did have time to seed the areas we had filled in with
dirt and then to start the sprinkler to water it in. As we
were
putting the tools away after another day of work, well, four hours of
work, Ron & Becky drove in. Now as luck would have it, this was
at
the same moment I was trying, and it is always very trying with this
unruly beast, to put "The Sound and the Fury" into the equipment shed.
Understand, this 'thing' doesn't like to go, and once it gets going, it
doesn't like to stop. So they walk up just as I drive it into the
equipment shed and drive it slam bang into the back of the trailer.
Stupid thing has got a mind of it's own!!! Now I'm not trying to
denigrate "Workamper Magazine", with those smiling happy workampers
they always have on the cover, but somehow I've got to believe, that
even in our limited few days of work camping, what I just related to
you is more what work camping is really like!!!!!! Somehow the idea of
doing the same tasks repetitively day after day does not appeal to my
definition of life. But then neither does the idea of smashing up the
bosses equipment, ha, ha.
Since this was Wednesday night, we would be enjoying the church supper
again. Since Becky was at the hospital with Belinda, we drove down the
mountain to the church. Even though we had only been there one time, we
were greeted like old friends. When you come from the west coast,
people just seem to have a natural curiosity in what it's like out
there. Makes for instant conversation. there had been a running debate
between Linda and myself over what was for dinner tonight. I was sure
it was spaghetti and she was even more sure they did not serve
spaghetti, only lasagna for the Italian meal. Furthermore, she informed
me I simply had the Thursday night meal of spaghetti we were going to
have before the concert confused with
the lasagna we were going to have tonight. If nothing else,
Suffice it to say the spaghetti meal tonight at the church was not only
outstanding, it definitely established, without the need for any
triumphant announcement, who really knew what was for dinner tonight.
to repeat myself,
nearly
four decades of
marriage have taught me when to keep my mouth shut, smile. One of the
benefits of eating a church meal is that dessert must always be served.
The chocolate brownie, while not the healthiest dessert, was certainly
delicious, double smile. The triple smile came later, when after
returning home, we had chocolate chip cookies and chocolate swirl ice
cream for our dessert-dessert. Life is so good every day and even
better on some of those days.
Mar 7 Back to too many strawberries
again. Wal-Mart
had them on sale yesterday, so it was once again, oatmeal for breakfast
with strawberries, sliced right,
courtesy of Bob. As we were finishing the breakfast dishes,
Stewart, another close neighbor and friend of Ron and Becky's came by
to tell us some shocking news. Larry, one of the other neighbors who
had
stopped to talk and stayed
to help us spread dirt on Saturday was in
the hospital. Turned out Larry's wife, who was out of town couldn't get
him
to answer the phone last evening. She called Ron at the campground and
asked him to check on Larry. Ron went up to Larry's house and found him
unconscious on the floor. This morning he was still in intensive care
at
the hospital and had not regained consciousness. Ron & Becky
had
been up all night with Larry's wife and were still at the hospital. We
had first met Larry last Wednesday night at the church dinner we
attended. He had fun telling people, jokingly, that we were the latest
"Mountain Stream Slaves". (Nothing could be father from the truth by
the way.) Neighbors helping neighbors is
one of the things that makes the western North Carolina mountains so
special.
This resulted in Linda and I being on our own for the day. We decided
we would replace some of the barrels that function as
planters
around the campground. We had used these same type of barrels for many
years at our houses for planters. After a few years they would rot out
to the point they needed replacing. So it was a job we already had
experience in. One thing we did not have experience in was starting
"The Sound and the Fury", then
backing it out of the equipment shed. Up till now, Ron had started it
and had it out of the shed waiting for us when we reported to "work"
each morning. Let me say that before I finally had it out
of the
equipment shed and hooked up to the trailer, there were many thoughts
that passed through my mind that were most definitely not appropriate
for a family campground, lol,lol. Linda says it could also be called "
GO, GO or NO GO". But then it has a mind of it's
own, such
that the GO,GO is actually, GO, GOING, GONEEEE while at other
times no matter hard you stomp on the "exhilerator", it is GO, GO
SLOWER, BARELY GO AT ALL. Bet anybody that has work camped and had to
use one of these temperamental beasts can relate!!!!
Gentle pushing on the exhilerator pedal, (it's way more than just
simple acceleration when it takes off) causes something to happen. We
hear the engine, we think, spin, but nothing else happens. No roar, no
smoke, no back fire, just a gentle whirring sound. Obviously there is
more to awakening it from a nights rest than just a gentle prod. Stop,
think for a moment, ah, gasoline engine, cold start, choke, yep, that's
it needs to be choked (in more ways than one), find coke beside shift
lever, pull out choke, engine sounds, smoke, cough, lots of sound but
no fury. So what's the matter? Before we would just push on the pedal
and it would go. Push harder on the exhilerator, lots of noise, no
movement, think maybe the brake pedal is on, check, no it's
off,
think it
somehow got
out of gear, lean over to look at the gear selector, push harder on the
pedal, reach for gear selector to check, mid reach the beast, with a
screech of tires lurches backward at what had to be near supersonic
speed. First thought was, hope I don't hit anything, second thought was
hope I hit something cause it ain't a gonna stop no other way! Finally
coasts to a stop outside of the equipment shed. Instant relief. How I
ever managed to keep from hitting anything I'll never know, but then I
wasn't doing any steering, I was just holding on for dear life. (As I
read this to Linda, she is laughing and saying, that is exactly how it
happened, but then since it was one of those moments when your life
passes before you, how could I possibly forget any of the details, lol,
lol)
We loaded up all the tools we thought we'd need, and drove to the worst
looking barrel we could find. A quick examination showed it
wasn't really rotted, smashed would be a better description. Now we
begin to see some of the things campground owners must go through. What
was obviously a good barrel met an obviously bad RV driver. Looking at
where these barrels are located, I'd better amend that to: a really,
really bad RV driver. Before long we have replaced two barrels by
digging out the Hosta, next taking the dirt out, placing it on a tarp
and removing the pieces of the barrel. Prior to placing the new 1/2
barrel we drilled three drainage holes in the bottom (after all the
barrel is water tight), then filled it with dirt and put a very small
cutting from the Hosta in the center. Then planted the remaining Hosta
cutting in one of the beds we had constructed last week. and put away
all the tools, plus the Sound and the Fury.
Our next job for the day was to dig a trench for the satellite cable.
It currently ran on the ground near a play area and
needed to be buried. The area where the trench would go was gravel over
soil. First we raked the gravel off, placed several tarps out along
that line so we could keep the dirt we dug out of the trench from
mixing with the gravel. About that time Ron arrived back from the
hospital, filled us in on Larry, no change, still unconscious and
advised us there was a telephone cable buried near the corner of the
office, so be careful when we dug in that location. Proceeding with
caution we
started digging. Before long we hit a gray electrical conduit, heavy
duty stuff, cleaned out the trench to that level and moved
further away
from the office. Continued digging soon uncovered a cable, no damage
done so we continued, As I dug I felt some resistance, what's this
still another buried cable? Unfortunately yes, and as you may have
guessed, not only was this the telephone cable, I had managed to knick
it just hard enough to cut through and skin back a little of the
outside cover.
Talk about feeling sick. However we had a trench to dig,
so we went back to digging. It was a very
interesting mix of materials we were digging through. Ron wanted the
cable buried about a foot deep, so we had a reasonable amount of
digging to do. The top was the aforementioned grave, followed
by a
layer of yellowish clay like material. Below this was the most god
awful mix of rocks of all sizes, sticks, roots and even tree trunks,
bound together by a silty, sandy soil. We're talking a mixture that
requires a mattock to loosen it. So with one of us either shoveling,
hoeing, or using our hands to remove the mixture of "stuff" we were
digging through, the other used the mattock to loosen the same "stuff"
Needless to say we didn't get the trench finished before 2 PM rolled
around, so we put away our tools and called it a day. Ate our turkey
wraps with a side of grapes at the picnic table. It's been a while
since either of us had worked this hard, but as out of shape as we had
gotten over the last to months, we had decided to push ourselves a
little today. We chuckle because when we work with Ron & Becky,
they tell us we don't have to work so hard, guess we need to rethink
this work thing in light of being old retired people, ha, ha. The
afternoon was comprised of doing nothing. A little TV, a little nap. a
little surfing, a little dinner and before you know it, it's time for
dessert. The cheesecake had disappeared all to quickly, so Linda was
rationing out the cookies. Some cookies, some ice cream, oh, what a
dessert!
Mar 6 Monday, normally the start of our
work week is
now a day off, so after a delicious breakfast of oatmeal and finely
sliced
strawberries, courtesy of Bob, we loaded the dirty clothes in the
Explorer and took off for the big city of Spruce Pine There are two
ways to drive to Spruce Pine from the
campground, one is to drive down Rt 80 to Marion and then drive up the
mountain on US 221. The second is to drive up Rt 80 to the Blue Ridge
Parkway, then take the Parkway north to Spruce Pine. Before we knew it,
we were on the switch back section of Rt 80 just below the Blue Ridge
Parkway. All the leaves are off the hardwood trees, the mountain laurel
and rhododendron
provide splashes of green under the bare limbs which are also
interspersed with the occasional green columns of pines. As we entered
the Blue Ridge Parkway there was a locked gate across the Parkway
preventing anyone from traveling south on it. They have been working to
open this section since the 2004 Hurricanes washed out a section of the
road. After getting on the Parkway the innate beauty of the Blue Ridge
was almost instantly apparent. Another thing that was readily apparent
was the change in altitude from the campground. Up on the unprotected
ridge line the winds blew with a fierce sharp cutting edge. To put it
bluntly, it was freezing cold up there. So why were we stopping at
every overlook, getting out of the Explorer, looking at the awesome
view spreading out before us as we stood braced against the wind gusts.
The only way I know is to let these pictures try to convey a nearly
impossible to capture beauty.
The grandeur of the mountains is so much more than the simple
combination of trees, land and sky.
The beauty of the Parkway extends to the architecture of its
structures.
Easy see why they call it the 'Blue' Ridge Parkway
(especially
when taken with a blue filter)
We
passed by the Little Switzerland exit,
all the attractions seemingly closed and shortly thereafter reached the
Spruce Pine exit which was preceded with a sign announcing the Parkway
was closed to the north because of another slide caused by those same
two 2004 Hurricanes. Imagine being a business, attraction, shop owner
or craftsman located between the two closures and the resulting
economic impact it has had on this area.
We took Rt 226 into Spruce Pine, stopping at the Wal-Mart Super center
to buy some much needed items, including a bird feeder and bird seed.
Linda is bound and determined to attract a Cardinal to our site. After
much debate and comparison of bird feeders she finally selected what
she felt was the perfect Cardinal feeder. Next came the
selection of bird feed. Talk about confusing, I have to think there are
no rules as to what may be said on a wild bird seed package.
It's almost as if the manufacturers put whatever they want on the bag,
as long as it
will entice a totally confused consumer to spend money on their
product. Take the birds shown on the package for example. Doesn't seem
to matter what is in the seed blend, there's almost always a picture of
a Cardinal on the bag. Guess the red of the Cardinal is a real "eye
catcher" so everyone uses it. So after an even longer time than it took
to select the feeder, at last the perfect seed mix went into the cart,
and yes it had a picture of a Cardinal on it. Now it was off to
undertake the objective of our coming to Spruce Pine in the first
place. Funny thing was, hair salons are typically closed on Monday and
today sure proved to be the penultimate typical hair salon day. Finally
did find one open shop, but the hairdresser had an appointment coming
in a about 10 minutes so that wouldn't work us. Guess she'll just have
to learn to live with it being long (long to her that is, after all she
could have my "problem", which is why I normally wear a hat, lol,lol).
Finally we tackled the last project on our list, the laundromat. Now,
if you're familiar with our coach you're asking, why not use its
washer/dryer? Well, it seems we have a small water leak that we're
going to have Tom Johnson's look into on Thursday. I can see
the
leak, I just can't reach it to try and fix it, so off to the laundromat
we go. It was literally just around the back of the building from the
hair salon so we figured things were looking up. Walking in the door we
were quickly presented with our first decision, what washer do you use.
Remembering the great bird feeder and seed hunt of a little while ago,
Linda boldly walked up to a top loader and opened the lid, soon she was
doing the same thing to several of the front loaders. Going
into that
thoughtful stare that all women seem to do at these times of enormous
decision making, she paused for a few seconds, then approached "our"
machine and started loading the clothes into it. Now came a major
mistake on my part. Looking at what was to me a bewildering array of
instructions and warnings, on, above, below and beside the machine, I
asked if she had read the instructions. You'd think that after nearly
four decades of being married to this woman I would know better. I can
only claim to have been so bewildered by that overwhelming display of
signage that I spoke without first considering the ramifications
of my words. Within moments I was sitting, throughly
chastened,
in one of the chairs in the laundromat. Now of course comes another
problem, what to do during the 24 minutes it will take to wash our
clothes in the properly sized washer, which without any hint of doubt
on my part now, is being used correctly. One could spend their lifetime
as a sociologist inside a laundromat and probably not have the "culture
of the laundromat" figured out.
Some of the things I could make a reasonable guess about why people
were doing what they were. Of course as soon I a felt pretty confident
in my analysis, someone else would enter and vary the task just enough
to make me question the rational I was using to draw my conclusion
regarding this activity. Sure made the time fly. Wash done, it was
dryer time. Vowing to myself that I would approach the transfer of
clothes to the dryer with extreme silence in order to best
avoid a
repetition of the washer incident, stood and watched as Linda removed
the
clothes from the washer and wheeled them over to the dryers. Oh how
quickly the clothes did literally seem to fly into the dryer, the
quarters inserted to obtain the right amount of time and the
temperature selected. All in total
silence on my part. Later after we
had added more quarters and selected the high temp setting instead of
the one she used to get the clothes
not so damp and then retrieved
several items she had inadvertently left in the washer when
she had
emptied it. We were off to the campground again.
However, the highlight
of the day was the "soft chocolate chip cookies Linda made later in the
evening. They are supercharged by adding vanilla pudding mix to the
recipe. Accompanied by a mug of steaming hot chocolate and chocolate
swirl ice cream, the still slightly warm cookies make a dessert fit for
royalty. The unbelievable part of this dessert is it's also very
healthy. I do promise to put up a recipe page before the end of the
month to share some of the recipes. Till then you'll have to trust me
the cookies are healthy. The hot chocolate is the sugar free packets
and the ice cream is non fat, no sugar added chocolate swirl, Blue
Bunny brand. Thus we end another day of living right while eating
right, just part of the ongoing adventure we enjoy....
Mar 5
What a difference a week makes, last Sunday we were in Marietta
Georgia, and today we are in North Carolina living an all together
different adventure in an very different culture, yet both are in the
southern US. Last week it was hurry, hurry so we can do things, today
it is a day of rest and relaxation. Take breakfast for example, if
you've been following my musings on how we live each day, you can
already guess what breakfast was today. (Don't get
overconfident
though, cause one of these days we're going to run out of fresh
strawberries and then we'll get to have some eggs, but not today.)
Based on my recent commentaries about breakfast food you
shouldn't
be surprised to find a divergence of opinion in this household (or
should it be RVhold) regarding the relative sweetness or tartness of
strawberries. Linda thinks all strawberries are tart, while your
intrepid guide through the lives of this typical? couple feels most
strawberries are sweet just as they come from the field and only on
very rare occasions need any assistance to satisfy a sweet
tooth.
As if this is not enough, we're also talking about two people that only
eat
sugar
on the rare occasions of either eating at someones home or a
restaurant. Since sugar in any form never enters the door of our coach,
we rely on either Splenda or Stevia to provide sweetness. Generally we
use Splenda in cooked foods and Stevia over fresh food. I will also
admit to occasionally
sprinkling a little Stevia on my strawberries. Great stuff, but be
aware that a very, very small amount goes a long ways and more is
most definitely not better but only bitter. It's definitely
not
something for everyone, heck, it's probably not something for almost
anyone. We stumbled upon Stevia some time ago at a Trader Joe's store.
Since then we've seen it in some of the health food
stores we've
been in. If you'd like to read about, I've linked to two commercial
websites that have some very "commercialized"
information about
Stevia, one is Stevia.net
and the other is Stevia.com
This is one of those products that you most definitely have
to
come to your own conclusion on, which is tough as even the FDA seems to
have some difficultly with Stevia. Still, thought I'd let you know
about it in case you're one of the multitudes who've never heard of
Stevia. Needless to say, we had a delicious breakfast that had
sweetened strawberries for both of us and was as unhurried as the
previous Sunday's breakfast was hurried.
Following
breakfast we walked across the road and over the bridge to the next
dramatic change from a week ago. Last Sunday we visited Roswell Street
Baptist church which had 1000's of people attending every Sunday. This
morning we went to Springvale Baptist church whose record Sunday
attendance as proudly shown on the register at the front of this small
country church as 89. This morning there were 18 people in
attendance. Yet, somehow this place was filled with genuine happiness
that far exceeded the size of the building. Heck, the church and all
the grounds would fit on the stage of some of the Mega churches we've
been in during our adventure. Having never been to this
type of
service before, it reminded me somewhat of the scene where Gary Cooper
goes to church in the movie "Sargent York". I certainly didn't
recognize the hymns, but I knew instantly they were old time hymns and
that they were meant to be sung with gusto and feeling, which they most
definitely were. There was no stage full of musicians, no accompanying
singers or choir, what there was was off key, off pitch singing of that
could only come from deep within. There was no multi-media backdrop to
the sermon, yet what there was a psalm reading that was sung instead of
read and a sermon that came from the heart. It's one of those
experiences we've come to relish in our life of adventure on the road.
Following this we kicked back, "chilled" as our son would say, and
simply spent the rest of the day doing nothing.
Well,
we did take an exploratory walk around the stream that gives the
campground its name. Then it became a minute examination of
nearly
every rock along the stream bank by Linda. Which, of course turned into
a rock carrying exercise for Bob. Now the best part of this is Linda
limits herself to rocks that will only fit into the mouth of a water
bottle. The tales I could relate about my lugging near
truckloads of rocks on some of our past vacations. If fact it
started before we were married. Love is blind in more ways tah one.
This is simply a woman who loves rocks, no geology background,
but just an all encompassing desire to collect rocks that
appeal
to her. Is it any wonder I love her so much!
One other thing we did
was to make some tomatilla sauce. Simple and easy to make, it
kicks many of the
Mexican dishes we cook up by a notch or two. It's the ingredient
that makes our chicken quesadillas better than the best we ever get at
a restaurant. Nothing to it the way Linda makes it. all ingredients
must be fresh: tomatillas, garlic, onions and cilantro, combine and use
fresh or freeze. Because we had the tomatilla sauce, why not
have
quesadillas for supper. Suspect this is not a western North Carolina
mountain dish, but when you've got the goods, go for it. Never ones to
go with the mundane or basic, the boneless chicken breast is pan fried
in olive oil for 6 minutes to a side, this results in a very juicy, yet
throughly cooked breast, which is allowed to cool, then shredded with a
fork. Returned to the pan, it is cooked with the chicken until it has
cooked down some. Then it is placed on whole wheat tortillas on a
griddle, cheese is grated on top and it is heated till the cheese
melts. Topped with a little salsa of your choice and some sour cream,
it's a meal for the gods. In order to take it far beyond the normal we
had a side of Rosarita nonfat refried beans. Of course we never open a
can of food and serve as is. What I did was to add some dried minced
garlic to the beans. we use a healthy amount, but wow, are they ever
good. So good a meal it even puts Tioga George's meatloaf to shame!!!!!
for dessert we had some more of the fabulous cheesecake Linda
made last night with ice cream on the side. Life is not only good, it's
delicious!!!!!!!!
Mar 4 Saturday and a day off to
most people, but
not for these two volunteer work campers. Of course before we
head off to
the salt mines, eh, eh, you've got to have enough energy to make it
till lunch and turkey wrap time. One of the good things you have when
you buy a lot of fresh strawberries is you get to eat a lot of fresh
strawberries. Then again, one of he bad things about buying a lot of
fresh strawberries is you have to eat a lot of fresh strawberries. So
we fix our special oatmeal for breakfast. Speaking of strawberries, do
you have a way you prefer to have your strawberries sliced? As you can
guess, we do. Linda is a , don't care how big it is, slice it in half
strawberry lover. I, on the other hand, enjoy my strawberries cut into
small rather thin strips (Linda calls it something other than small
strips, I won't go any further with her description, lol). Thing is,
she'll eat strawberries the way I like them, if I slice them, but won't
slice them the way I like them regardless of my requests. I on the
other hand will only under great duress eat strawberries that are not
finely sliced, but I will slice them the way she likes them as there is
nothing to it, except capping them, then one slice and you're done.
Therefore, once again this morning, I'm spending some time slicing
strawberries.
Breakfast finished, and the 10 o'clock hour approaching,
we're off for another day of timber and dirt. Because we did not finish
building all the landscape timber borders yesterday we knew that was
our task for the day. So with water bottles and leather gloves
in hand, we
walked down to the equipment shed. One of the things we have to do each
night is put away and clean
up everything we worked on that day. So
once again we get out everything we used yesterday and begin our work.
As
was the case yesterday, the work is not hard, but after not having done
any work during several months of traveling and relaxing in the motor
home,
some of our muscles were (putting it delicately) slightly less toned
than had been the case prior to our beginning this adventure.
What we have been doing is not the routine work that is usually done
when the campground is open, they are special projects that are done
prior to opening for the season. One of the interesting things
that we are noticing is, each day we are taking more "ownership" of the
work we are undertaking.
Somewhat a combination of ingenuity, invention and pride, I think it
results from
satisfaction in knowing we made a good decision
to volunteer work camp at Mountain Stream RV park. You couldn't ask for
two nicer people than Ron & Becky, there is freedom
rather
than regimentation regarding both the type of work and the work
schedule and as a real bonus we are feeling healthier by the day!
Linda tried her hand at driving the golf cart today. Because she tries
to keep a light foot on the 'exhilerater', her progress is punctuated
with gunfire like outbursts of backfiring. Personally, I prefer the
gravel flying takeoffs
to the backfiring, but to each of us her own (smile).
As part of our project today we are slightly altering the shape of one
of the sites. This site is situated so there is a straight approach to
back-in and pull out of the site as well as a right angle way to do the
same thing. So while almost everyone uses the straight approach to
park, quite a few, thinking the sharp left turn is a faster way out (I
can with absolute authority assure you it is not) try to do a near
impossible and attempt to leave by making a sharp left turn. We also
find it interesting how our way of looking at things in the campground
is changing after just a few days. Perspective is everything. Thus our
task for the day is to extend the grassy area to a point that only the
most foolhardy will attempt the impossible and try to exit by making
the sharp left turn. Ron laughs as he says it will only be the people
with the longest trailers that try to make the impossible turn. Placing
the timber means much trenching on my part. When the trench is in the
gravel area or the grass area it is easy. You just put what you dig out
on the same material. But when digging in the twilight zone between
gravel and dirt, what do you do with the excavated material? Ended up
piling it near where Becky and Linda were screening soil so it could be
properly recycled. Amazing, the places you can try to be
environmentally responsible.
While Ron and I were digging, sawing and spiking, Becky and Linda were
sifting more dirt and rocks to make soil. Now
the method for sifting soil was to put a large framed screen, made from
hardware cloth, over the trailer, shovel dirt onto it use your hands to
work the soil through the screen, then dump the rocks and do another
batch until the trailer was full. Brilliant girl that Linda is, she
suggested they lean the screen at an angle against the trailer.
Situated and angled just right, the soil falls into the area it is
needed and the rock falls into the gravel area were it is needed. (Just
think how smart I am for having picked such a brilliant women to be my
life partner, smile) As was the case in the past almost before we knew
it, the 2 o'clock hour approached and the tools were put away for a few
days. As we worked, we mentioned we had a few issues with the coach we
need to have fixed under warranty. Ron and Becky have had quite a saga
with their coach, so they suggested we go down the mountain to Tom
Johnson's as soon as possible to schedule the work, since once the
first of April arrives it can be up to a 12 week wait
to get an appointment (and they bought their coach there). So we
cleaned up and drove down. What a neat place! Have to say they
certainly have a lot of RV's for being somewhat out in the middle of
nowhere. Everything there was first class. Talked to a service
writer and scheduled an appointment for this coming Thursday at 8AM.
Drove around Marion some, trying to spot the grocery store and a hair
salon for Linda. I'm not the only one who needs a haircut. For dinner
we grilled some frozen sirloin burgers (definitely not as good as fresh
ground sirloin) with our southwestern beans and a salad. While dinner
was not quite up to our normal standards, Linda came up with a
wonderful new dessert. Excuse the photo, but once I had taken
a
bite of it, I just had to take a pix, it was that good! It's a
cheesecake that's both great tasting and healthy for you. One of these
days I'm going to start a recipe page of some of these great dishes she
comes up with.
Mar 3 Being creatures of habit and
knowing a good
thing when we taste it, yes we're talking about food, we fixed our old
standby again this morning, oatmeal topped with fresh strawberries, a
dash of stevia for sweetness, chopped walnuts and cinnamon.
Now you would think this would be the same meal for both of
us, but after all, differences are what make the world go
around!
Take something as simple as chopped walnuts. Nothing to it you say,
just chop some nuts and put them on top of the oatmeal.
Would that you live with the woman I do, though she would say, would
that you have put up with the man I have to put up with. (Her story is
probably the more correct one, lol, lol) The 'problem' is she
likes her nuts coarsely chopped and I
like mine very finely chopped. So when each of us chops our own, it's
no problem.
Enter the specter of efficiency. She decides to chop all the walnuts
for once and for all. Of course they get chopped mostly as she likes
them and since we start with walnut bits and pieces, its mostly
un-chopped pieces we end up with. So back to the chopping board I go,
sigh.
Following this it was time to pull on the gloves and head out to work.
Today promises to be a dirt and timber day, rebuilding some planters
and site dividers and filling them with cleaned dirt. At
10AM we headed down to the equipment shed and hooked up the golf cart and trailer.
Driving the golf cart is quite an experience. Not being golfers means
no experience driving one of these temperamental
beasts.
This on has a mind of it's own. Step on the
gas lightly and nothing happens other than the motor starts
and runs. Step harder on the accelerator and that's
just what it does, accelerates,
no wheelies, but does the gravel ever fly. It's finding that delicate
balance (called experience) that's evading us. Of course before too
many
days pass by we'll be tooling around like old pros. Until then it will
be flying gravel and rocket like takeoffs followed by long coasting
stops accompanied by the gunfire like sound of the engine back firing.
I could nickname it the "Billymobile ", because it is filled with 'The
sound and the fury' but that would take some serious apologizing to the
memory of William Faulkner, so I won't. Sometimes I wonder what I did
to deserve a mind that works like this, lol, lol.
The grassy areas that separate the the campsites on the stream side are
bordered with landscape timbers. Interspersed among the sites are
raised planters, that have railroad ties for the base then are topped
with landscape timbers. Our job for the day was to
replace some damaged landscape timbers on a planter and finish the timber edging
around one of the sites. First we needed to get all the tools and
supplies and stage them at the site. I dug a very
shallow trench for
the timbers, then cut and nailed them
in place with 12" spikes.
Meanwhile Linda was playing in the dirt, okay, she was
shoveling, sifting and placing the
dirt in the planters and low spots in the grassy areas. The sifting
part of the
work is necessary to remove
all the rock. from the dirt. Up
here there is no such thing as dirt, it's more like
rock with soil added. (The red clay does not qualify as dirt.) As
we worked
various neighbors would drive in and spend time talking with either Ron
or Becky. This is the way it is in the western North Carolina
mountains. Before we knew it, it was time to gather up all the tools
and quit for the day. It's hard to believe we worked for four hours, it
went by so fast. After a dinner of turkey burgers, and yes we had
turkey wraps for lunch, we watched some TV, ate some chocolate
swirl ice
cream and called it a day.
Mar 2 Well, somehow I got so caught up in
relating
all the details of how we ended up here, that I neglected to
describe what our
first day of work camping was like. There are two points of view here.
Ours and our hosts. From our point of view we didn't know what to
expect. We've both always been hard workers, whether mental or
physical, plus we had worked many times at a Lake Tahoe retreat center
doing cleanup and maintenance. From Ron
& Becky's point of view,
they had less than a month to get the campground ready for the season
and there was a lot of work to get done. Would the new work camper
couple be willing and able to do the work needed. So what did
we
end up doing the first day. I sprayed the lawn areas of the campground
for grubs, while Linda
and Becky cleaned the lawn furniture and the bathrooms (which had been
closed for the winter). Viewed in hindsight, it was an interesting day
for both parties. We wanted to show them how much we could do, they
wanted to
find out how much we could do, but didn't want to overwork us. We knew
going in that the amount of work we would be doing in March would be
much harder than after the campground
opened in April, so we had no problem doing these tasks, besides we
only had to work for four hours. It was like we just got started when
it was time to quit for the
day. Ten to Two, those aren't bad hours! And it isn't all work either.
My "degrubbing" was a loner project as Ron was working on getting the
parks WiFi router updated with the tech support people. It was fun
figuring out how to run the golf cart that seems to have only two
speeds, no go and fast go!!! So you're asking, why spray the grubs.
Well the moles like the grubs and they burrow tunnels all over the
place, plus they also attract shunks who drill nice big holes in the
ground. So, no grubs, no moles, no shunks. And you thought campground
owners only had to worry about having enough sites for all the RV'ers
who want to camp at the Park, ha, ha,ha!!!!! Of course while I was
spraying up a storm the ladies were proving the old adage, "All work
and no rest, makes Bob a tired boy" Truth be told, it was a very
enjoyable day spent getting some much needed exercise in the North
Carolina sunshine. Topped off the evening with a delicious home cooked
meal at the church Ron & Becky attend. We were greeted like old
friends and had a good laugh at being asked how we liked being the
lastest "Mountain Stream slaves." As we ended the day we reflected on
what a wonderful life we have been given the chance to enjoy.
On day two, which was also March 2nd, we started work a half an hour
early, at 9:30 AM. See, old habits die slowly, as both of us had always
given our employers more than they asked. Thus we were working on the
embankment at the upper end of the campground
which needed to be seeded and
then straw spread. We found out that in
September 2004 hurricanes' Frances and Ivan almost
wiped Mountain Stream off the map. The park's namesake stream came out
of its banks twice within several weeks with a vengence as more than 17
inches of rain fell in just one day. By the time the waters had
receeded, the upper end of the campground was a maze of
gullies
and the lower end was covered with more than three feet of silt. Then
the most amazing thing happened. Neighbors from all around came to the
park with everthing from hand tools to tractors and excavators. Before
they were finished the park was virtually rebuilt. This took place,
just not at the park, but everywhere somebody needed help. This is just
they way people are up here. As we worked today, every once in a while
a vehicle would pull into the park and
a neighbor would get out and visit with Ron or Becky for a spell. It
only took a short time to realize these were "real people" who live up
here. and what a refreshing thing it was to we two long time city
dewellers.
To help prevent
the stream from inundating the park again, the
stream and embankment had been reconstructed. Our first job was to pick
up all the loose rocks lying on the dirt so once the
grass started growing it could be mowed without danger of
hitting
any rocks. We cleared all the loose rocks of the 150' by 10' area.
Again, it's all in your attitude. This could be considered hard work by
some, we considered it good exercise. After Ron applied the seed we
spread straw over the entire area. They watered it in, more to make
sure it would rain than to actually help the seeds germinate. Of course
later in the evening the wind came up and blew all the straw off the
bare areas, but at least the seed stayed. Later found out the exact
same thing had happened last year.
As we only work four hours each day, we had most of the afternoon off.
Since I hadn't had a haircut since before Christmas, Linda got out the
clippers and scissors and whacked off the ends of the few hairs I have
left. She does such a good job, hardly ever cuts me so I bleed, plus
since I usually always wear a hat, I can cover up any miscuts, but with
nearly 40 years of practice, she never seems to make any anymore and
besides, since most of the hair I have left is where I can't see it
anyway, how would I ever know if she made a mistake anyway!!!
Mar 1 Woke up this mornin'
feelin' fine,
There's somethin' special on my mind, Last night I pulled into a new
campground, whoa yeah Somethin' tells me I'm into something good,
Somethin' tells me I'm into somethin'good. --- I walked her path and
beheld her land, I knew it couldn't be just a one-night stand So I
asked to stay next month and she told me I could.
(With full apologies to Peter Noone and the rest of the Hermit's. The
song "I'm into Something Good" was written byGerry
Goffin & Carole King.)
We are now officially
work campers at Mountain
Stream
RV Park in the beautiful mountains
just south of the Blue Ridge Parkway near
Marion
N.C. We woke early and were eager to meet with Ron & Becky, our
hosts and mentors for the next two months. But first you've got to eat
breakfast if your going to have enough energy to work. We had picked up
some fresh strawberies at the Sam's Club in Spartanburg, SC., so what
better see us into the day than oatmeal with fresh sliced strawberries,
a dash of Stevia for sweetness, chopped walnuts and powdered cinnimon.
Now it was time to find out what work camping was all about.
But first you're probably asking, how could two people who have been
traveling every few days since they "retired" at the first of the year,
be ready to settle down so soon. (See Ron, I told you I'd let people in
on how we came to this decision!!!!) Ron is the webmaster of hitchitch. com.
If you
came to our site from hitchitch you already know hitchitch the greatest
site
on the net to find info on the fulltime and extended stay RV lifestyle.
If you don't know about hitchitch you're in for an awesome treat.
Before we had even made the decision to join the cadre of those who
live on the road, we had spent, literally hundreds of hours visiting
both the links on hitchitch and also Ron & Terry's personal
website, fulltime.hitchitch.com.
It's at the very top of our favorites list. Besides, who couldn't love
a site that has the Tioga Team as their No. 1 link!!!!
As I mentioned
last month, okay, yesterday, but still, it was last month, one
of our goals was to experience all the aspects of this lifestyle, one
of which is work camping. Most people take off on their first great
adventure after retiring and spend 12 to 16 months making the grand
circuit of the USA. We're making the circuit, it's just a little
different is all, kind of like the beat of the different drum to which
I tend to.
Originally we had planned to spend the entire winter and spring in
Texas, starting in the Rio Grande Valley and ending up in the Texas
Hill Country. Then in late May we would fly back to Ohio for Linda's
40th high school reunion, then upon returning to Texas spend the summer
in Colorado and Wyoming. But, that was before we started thinking the
"gosh
we live in a motorhome, we can go anywhere at anytime" way. You work
all your life and it takes a while to comprehend the freedom this
lifestyle allows! You know, the realization that: "I may be slow, but I
ain't stupid." Anyway, once we got our thinking straightened out, ideas
flowed like a runaway oil gusher. Since we had to be in Ohio at the end
of May, why not go in the motorhome. Then another thought. We were free
and could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. Lets just set
someplace for a couple of months, slow down and smell the roses in one
area so to speak. Thus came about the idea of work camping. We had
always been very active, hard workers and the idea of just sitting
around doing nothing was something neither of us wanted to do. So we
subscribed to Workamper
News. As soon as the first issue arrived we
poured over it, marking anything that caught our eye. Quickly we found
some compromising was in order, as some apportunities Linda had checked
I wasn't interested in and visa versa. We finally boiled our wants,
desires, wishes and realities down to several things. Location: Texas
east to Georgia and north to the Carolinas. Job: No campground hosting,
open to anything else as long as Linda did not have to lead tours. Time
frame: March and April. Compensation: FHU site only. Contact method:
Website and email. Now the next problem is how does one go about
actually applying for the positions selected? Time to dust
off,
literally, the old resume. Whoa, wait a minute, these resume's don't
relate at all to the jobs we're looking at! Back to Workamper to get
some hints. Followed there advice. Looks good. Recommend you have
photo of your rig. We don't have a rig. what to do. Find a pix of one
similar to what we're getting and use that. Whew, none of
this
has been what you'd call easy, but we're getting close to the end of
the beginning of the process. Send emails with brief cover letter and
resume' to those we picked.
Two nights later see an ad we missed.
Originally we wanted to apply to a campground in the moutains of North
Carolina, but the had no email address or website. While the
employer/host wants to know about us, we also want to know about the
employer/host. The missed ad was for a small campground near the Blue
Ridge Parkway. They had a website and later that evening we emailed our
resume'. Of the seven resume's we emailed, we got offers from three.
One we turned down, one the time frame they had open didn't fit and the
third one was a perfect fit. And that is how we ended up at Mountain
Stream. Ron & Becky still have some summer openings if you're
interested after reading this and looking at their website. Their email
is: Camp@MountainStreamRVPark
tell them you read about it here.