Our journey has taken us to campgrounds near our old hometown for an extended stay. Our house-on-wheels is not rolling around much, which, due to the price of diesel, is a fortunate coincidence. Strangely, idling in this environment, the RV feels almost like home. Almost is the operative word. I miss the comfort of real walls and a basement when springtime, severe storms fire up. I have determined that there are three thunderstorm categories while residing in a truck: 1.) find a friend or family member with a basement, 2.) run to the concrete bathhouse and cover your head, 3.) open a bottle of wine, take a sip, watch the leaves and branches blow by while praying a HAIL MARY or two.
In spite of a stormy spring, I am relishing every day as I open each corresponding door on my ADVENTure calendar. Time passes swiftly when family is nearby, friends are within reach, and familiar haunts are accessible.
A quick trip to my hometown filled me with feelings of nostalgia and gratitude. Much has changed and much remains as it was in my youth. There is such comfort in reliving the recognizable. I regret that there was insufficient time to see a few other lifelong friends. The brevity of my visit was the only downside, but I plan to get back there just as soon as I can line up a few visits with some cherished chums.
We are not wasting time! We have found time for color runs, water parks, Ga-Ga ball, tie-dye shirts, S’mores, and Yogi Bear abductions.
We have spent time at Camden Yards, watching the Orioles beat the Yankees on a warm, sunny afternoon. The win was wonderful but time spent with our son and daughter-in-law was the real prize.
We have cheered on our little leaguers, spent lots of time at the gym, and have taken the time to join good friends for a weekend of frivolity at the beach. No wasting time. Each day is a chance to embrace the unexpected.
And, Hallelujah, there has been progress made at the lakefront!
The location of the house has been staked, and the permitting process for well and septic has begun. We are awaiting a quote from a dock builder, and approval for the site plan from the county.
Eleven (or so) months to go. I’m patient. No, I’m not. I am, however, still committed to enjoying the journey.
Gypsy, at the ripe, old age of 15-months, is still filled with puppy silliness. Sometimes she is a white dog, sometimes she is a blue dog, but left to her own devices, she would prefer to be completely covered in mud. She is beginning to show show signs of maturity, which is sort of bittersweet. We will miss her baby-animal antics, but will enjoy the calm that comes with her advance into adulthood.
Hard to believe that summer is on the horizon. In a few short weeks this caravan will be rolling down the road again…
Welcome each day with a sense of wonder. Stay tuned….