When I exited the RV last June, after twenty months of living on wheels, I swore that I was done with life on the road; at least for the foreseeable future. I was sick to death of tiny-home-living. Having a normal-sized domicile gave me space to stretch out, a sense of permanence, and a blank canvas to decorate, to bedeck as I saw fit. I had a house, an actual address, and I was in my happy place, puttering around and pinching myself. My new abode, with the remarkable view was more than I had ever hoped for. If I was going to leave it was going to be while kicking and screaming.

I do not deny that I was born to wander, but the thought of resuming a rambling lifestyle was far, far from my mind. It was too early to consider rolling down the road. I just got here! Yet, the reality was that, earlier in the year, we had made arrangements to take a bunch of friends to Ohio for a college football game. Yes, we were going to load Bertha with bevy of University of Maryland fans, and head to Ohio State’s legendary “shoe” for a Big-10 match-up on the gridiron. So, despite my RV-reluctance, we loaded up the bus with tailgate supplies and Terps supporters, and headed down the highway.

The gametime weather was fickle. Rain gear was needed sporadically as clouds and sun were battling it out all day. Meanwhile, on the field, there was a respectable skirmish between two undefeated teams; at least for the first half. By the second half, the Ohio State Buckeyes took control and gained a commanding lead. There was no joy in College Park, but in central Ohio, we continued to enjoy time spent with friends.

Our hosts, who happen to be Buckeye backers, went out of their way to ensure that the weekend would be a success regardless of the outcome of the football game. The amount of preparation that went into our visit was staggering. We felt like guests luxuriating at a 5-star resort. The food and drink supply was endless. Shuffle board and horseshoes provided gameplay and gaiety. The camaraderie and competition was delightful. Thanks to Suzy and Art for making this trip so memorable, and making me realize that being back in Bertha is not all that bad.

If I had not crawled back into the belly of the beast, I would have missed the chance to travel to a new destination, and to lose myself in some incredible scenery. There’s an awful lot of the world that whizzes by if you never take the opportunity to explore on foot. A great deal of pristine farmland can still be found in Delaware County, Ohio.

I am not sorry that I took the trip:

“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”

Louis Armstrong

Stay tuned…

Bertha is wearing her wheel covers, which means that she will be parked for a spell. Although, still retired, we are no longer retired and rambling, at least not for the immediate future. For the time being, our well-traveled RV will serve as an additional guest room. We have more than adequate sleeping space in the house, that is, until we are blitzed by a whole bunch of kith and kin at the same time! That full-fledged onslaught begins in a few days. Let the chaos commence!!

Cultivate the root; the leaves and branches will take care of themselves.

Confucius

Boy, oh boy, am I having trouble with roots…

I’m in a whole new place after a prolonged, nomadic lifestyle. I don’t have co-workers or a normal routine. I have not achieved a comfort level with my new surroundings, and at times, I am just not sure how to productively use my time. However, I did find a really incredible fitness center that is providing a much needed sense of community.

The Lake Anna Wellness Studio has kind, knowledgeable, caring instructors who promote wellness through yoga, Pilates, toning, stretching and strength. They encourage participants to breathe deeply, to invite joy, and to express gratitude. There is a strong sense of fellowship here, which I am absorbing like a sponge. It’s not easy to start new roots after a lifetime of living elsewhere (or sometimes, nowhere.)

Interestingly, an astute instructor observed my general countenance and noted that I had a blocked root chakra. Since the root chakra is all about feeling connected with the earth and with other people, I would say that she was spot on! I need to work on unblocking this mess… Ommmmm…….

Speaking of roots, the only roots that are growing around here are attached to weeds. The yard was seeded, not once, but twice in some areas. The intense, August sun parched the soil and scoffed at the seed. We watered, and watered but to no avail. The raindrops have been few and far between. New growth is a struggle and the reminders are all around us.

To add to the theme of this blog, I’ve also experienced problems with hair roots. It was a challenge to find a new hairdresser in this remote location. I miss Kelly and Impressions Hair Studio. I did not know how good I had it until I had to wait an entire month for someone to address the ever-widening white/gray stripe that was running down the middle of my head. I’m going to have to just suck it up, and dye my own hair. Miss Clairol, here I come.

The days are getting shorter and soon the kids will be back in school. Summer will sing its swan song and the rush of visitors will dissipate as the cool air ushers Autumn in. Perhaps when the novelty of a new place winds down, I can find a job, or a cause that will help me to find firmer footing in my unfamiliar surroundings. Like the grass, I will have a better chance at establishing roots when things cool down a bit.

But for now, I am bracing for a house full of fun folks, raucous laughter and making memories. Stay tuned.

Eureka! A home without wheels. I am still wandering around in a cloud of sheer disbelief. As I amble about from room to room I am overwhelmed with the feeling that it is all an illusion. There’s a dreamlike quality to everything that has transpired in the past month. Pinch Me. On second thought, don’t pinch me. If this is a dream I don’t want to awake from it.

We were scheduled to close on June 29th at 4:00. We knew that the house passed final inspection, but it was up to the county to issue our occupancy permit. We could not close without it. By 3:00 the permit had not been issued. The builder’s representative told us that she was leaving her office to come to the closing, and would be checking her phone to see if the permit was issued. We had until 5:00 p.m. Two hours of sheer hell awaited us. I was gnashing my teeth and ripping my hair out, when at 4:50 the permit was issued. Somehow we managed to close at 6:30. Good thing, too, because we had an 18-wheeler full of furniture that was scheduled to arrive early the next morning. Time to uncork the champagne. Hallelujah!

Let’s call it chaotic. Our truck appeared at roughly the same time 20 or so relatives arrived for the annual family reunion. Our clan had rented the house next to ours, so the festivities were held there while I frantically unpacked boxes, hoping to find useful things like silverware, glasses and cookware. Instead I found Christmas china, Stangl pottery, a bust of Mozart and a chess set. I just kept digging and digging until the practical items showed up. What a Herculean effort, I was nearly too pooped to party!

We have managed to get everything unpacked and put away while entertaining family, friends from Europe, and dear friends from our old stomping grounds. We have assembled accent tables, benches, outdoor furniture, and a shuffleboard table. We have managed a trip to the DMV and now have Virginia plates and driver’s licenses. Landscapers are hard at work, building a firepit and making the lake more accessible via a straight pathway. We are busy but are filled to the brim with gratitude. We never thought we would get here, but we did, and are overjoyed to be creating our dream place.

We do, however, have one family member who is thoroughly perplexed. Our Gypsy girl is content when she is boating, but does not know what to make of a house with actual square footage. She seems a little sad, and is most content hanging out in the walk-in-closet. She, after so much time in an RV, seems to prefer confined spaces. I’m hoping she will adjust, and become Queen of this castle.

More company tomorrow! Tired but tickled pink.

Stay tuned….

TOMORROW. Tomorrow is our scheduled closing date.

We left our home 19 months, 1 week, 5 days, 16 hours, 22 minutes and 37 seconds ago. But who’s counting? I always knew this journey would require patience. There were moments that I doubted that we would ever make it, but here we are, staring at the finish line, pinching ourselves to make sure this is not just a dream.

And like Dorothy Gale, in The Wizard of Oz, the most important lesson I have learned is, “If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with!”

I have learned that, even with her multitude of problems, Big Bertha has provided shelter in the storms, opportunity to travel the country, and a roof over our heads. Thanks, Bertha. Thanks for getting us to our destination.

I should mention that as of this moment, we do not have our occupancy permit. We have 30 hours to get it on our hot, little hands.

What could go wrong?

Stay tuned…..

“I Hear You Knocking” is an R & B song written by Dave Bartholomew and first recorded by Smiley Lewis in 1955. I may not be the jilted lover featured in this golden oldie, but I know what it is like to be hammering away at a door that just won’t open. I don’t have the keys. Not yet. Soon, though. Very soon.

“Imagination allows you to think of the journey worth making. Motivation gets you started. But, it’s patience and perseverance that get you there.”

Ernie J Zelinski

There are some positive aspects of campground living, but after NINETEEN months, you really have to utilize creative thinking to come up with them. I am amused by some of the ideas that “permanent campers” have come up with in order to create inviting spaces for weekend get-away spots.

What really amuses me, however, is what I term the “Sunday-Poop-Parade”. Although our site is wooded and relatively large, it is right next to the dump station, the place where weekend warriors dump their sewage tanks. There is always a huge line-up of trailers and 5th-wheels and motor homes that must discharge their waste before heading home. It’s a crazy traffic jam that lasts for hours, and if you happen to be situated a bit downwind, which we are, it is a malodorous ordeal.

It did not take long to determine that Sunday should be excursion day.

We did take a short trip to traipse around historic, downtown Fredericksburg. It is a town worth visiting, with many 18th and 19th century architectural gems. Both Revolutionary and Civil War Era landmarks cover the town. Parking is free. There are shops, restaurants, and magnificent mansions. Spending a Sunday in Spotsylvania County unquestionably beats the Poop Parade.

One last humorous tidbit: When we returned from our sojourn, we found a Bearded Dragon just lying around in our campsite. Clearly it was a pet, since it was on a leash, and was tethered to a child’s toy. You cannot make this stuff up. We placed a tent spike through the toy to keep the little guy from wandering into the nearby road. We know very little about lizards, but we did come to the realization that Gypsy would consider it a toy that would need to be gutted and dismembered like all of her other toys. So, we contacted the office who collected our reptilian friend, and kept it safe and happy until the owner could be located. It’s always something…

Stay tuned for more of life’s oddities….

We were supposed to be in our house by now. In fact, we were supposed to be there in April, which has presented some unique lodging challenges. Campsites need to be reserved several months in advance if you hope to have a place to plant your RV. No worries, right? We like to cover our bases, so anticipating some possibility of construction delay, we had spots reserved through May 19th. We were foolishly optimistic, poor planners.

Well, here it is, June 3rd, and because we could not find other accommodations, we are stationed at a campground built in 1972 that is sort of like a seasonal trailer park. People reserve sites year round, build porches and erect Tiki Bars around their trailers. Most are tastefully designed, and the park is well maintained, but, well, at the end of the day it’s still a trailer park.

Our site is not level, we do not have full hookups, and the dump station is right next door. Ahh, nothing like the aroma of raw sewage wafting over your picnic table.

It’s less than ideal but I am grateful that we at least have a place to stay. We do not have a sewer hook up, and cannot easily dump our tanks. As a result, we are forced to use the bath house. It’s clean and has clearly been upgraded sine 1972 (perhaps in the 1990’s?) but it is as cold as a meat locker in that place! I cannot shower in there without my goosebumps having goosebumps. Is it too much to ask to take a warm shower every once in a while? We joined a gym that is 15 miles away because they advertised a fully stocked gym with cardio and strength training equipment, free weights, classes, and SHOWERS. Here’s the glitch. There are two showers. One is in the men’s room. One is in the ladies room. If I shower, none of the female clientele can pee. I’m new. I can’t afford to make enemies, so I rush through the process. No blow dryer. No cleanly shaven legs. I am probably sporting a unibrow since grooming has become an exercise in futility.

Why am I doing this????

Ever since I was a kid, we went camping, and many of our outdoor adventures included lake life. I was quickly captivated by the lure of the lake. I loved jumping off a dock, paddling a canoe, and fishing with my dad. The lake has always been my happy place. Retiring to my paradise seemed natural. I never expected so many bumps in the road. This drive to lakefront living is giving me whiplash.

It’s currently looking like we will be stuck in this crazy situation for another month. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. Sometimes there are genuine tears. I try to see the humor in all of this, but it’s been a difficult ordeal. I am SO ready to get settled in.

Stay tuned…

Not to brag, but my granddaughter made the perfect Ariel in her elementary school production of The Little Mermaid. She looked the part, knew all of her lines, and delivered them with conviction. She was 100% believable as she swam against the tide, made sacrifices, and fell in love with Prince Eric. Furthermore, her dancing and singing were truly captivating and her performance was breathtaking. It caused me to reflect and draw some parallels with my current situation.

What would I give if I could live
Out of these waters?
What would I pay to spend a day
Warm on the sand?

Alan Menken and Howard Ashman – The Little Mermaid/Part of that World

What would I give if I could live out of this RV? What would I pay to spend a day in my own home? You can pretty much bet I would sell my voice in order to have a house that is not designed to roll down the road.

We’ve hit that milestone. We have now been living in the rear of a Ford F-550 for over 18 months. That’s right... a Year and Half with a minimal wardrobe, no washer and dryer, and a dog that sheds like an Angora rabbit in the middle of August. Eighteen months of waking up and staring at a refrigerator that is not actually, per se, in the bedroom, but may as well be. It’s been 1-1/2 years of paper plates, plasticware, and floors that will not stay clean for longer than an hour.

It’s time so swim to the surface and get into that house.

Still much to be done, but we now have siding, paint, and cabinets. The work on the deck is scheduled to begin today. Minimal flooring has been installed. Each day the idea of actual occupancy gets a bit more real. We are not yet there but we are headed towards the finish line. We are watching the pot, waiting for it to boil.

Isn’t looking backwards funny? So much of this voyage has been anxiety-provoking, and yet, there have been so many moments of awe and beauty. I kind of wonder if I will miss living in the belly of Bertha after we settle in a bit.

Look at this stuff
Isn’t it neat?
Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?
Wouldn’t think i’m the girl,
The girl who has everything?

I thought there was no end to our homelessness. At times I had my doubts about emerging alive. I felt destined to live in a truck until the end of time, but here I am, looking forward to starting a new chapter. Now that we are closing in on an actual closing date, I can look back at the magical moments, the twinkles in time that I will always treasure.

Nostalgic feelings are fleeting comforts. It is time to plant myself long enough to grow some roots, and to become a productive member of a new community. Soon. In short order. Before ere long.

Stay tuned…

Thank God Springtime has arrived. I’ve had entirely enough of short, chilly days during which I wring my hands in despair over the house building process. At times it feels that the hands of the clock are spinning in a counter-clockwise direction. So, I embrace the gradually elongating days; days that herald the beginning of baseball season. I have been a fan of the National Pastime since I was a kid. Since I desperately need to pass time during the home construction debacle, I am delighted to be able to turn to the ball diamond.

As SNL’s Garrett Morris exclaimed through fictional ballplayer Chico Escuela, “Baseball been berry, berry good to me.” When I was a kid, I followed the Pittsburgh Pirates, and quickly added the Baltimore Orioles as my favorite American League team when I moved to Charm City to attend college. Way back in those days, both teams were regular contenders. In recent years (decades) it has been painful to back the Buc’s and the O’s. Let’s just say I haven’t had a horse in the race for far too long.

But wait! Have you seen the MLB standings? As of May 10, 2023, the Orioles are in a strong second place in the AL East with a .639 winning percentage, and the Pirates are in 1st place in the National League Central. Yes, it’s too early to pop the champagne cork, but a gal can dream.

We recently attended a daytime O’s game against the Red Sox. The seats were great, the crowd was enthusiastic, the smell of Old Bay was in the air, the Skipjack Pilsner was cold, and we put the game in the win column.

The best baseball, however, can be found on the little league field. It is here that players are developed. It is on these shortened fields that kids learn the nuances of the game. They learn “the situation.” It is here that youngsters learn to pick off a runner, to catch a long, fly ball, and to “double ’em up.” What’s more, the price of admission is reasonable. Show up with your own chair, your own popcorn and peanuts, and enjoy watching the team’s skill level grow as the season progresses.

It is between these chalk lines that kids learn the importance of teamwork, the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat. These are life lessons that reach far beyond the sand lot.

If I’m going to homeless, I like to do it from behind home plate.

Speaking of homeless, still no concrete closing date in sight. We did, however, manage to get the boat in the water. The boat has a house. We do not. Something seems a little inside-out with this scenario.

Stay tuned…

In T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, April is referred to as the cruelest month, which, to the poet was a statement filled with deep, emotional complexity. To me, it’s a bit simpler. April enters stage right, dressed in sunshine and pastel blossoms, and begins to fool the audience into thinking it’s Spring. Okay, I will grant you that flirtatious April, throws you a few days of warmth and promise, but that promise is perjury! Most days are cold, with relentless breezes that bring the wind chill back to winter.

We are temporarily parked near our old stomping grounds. We are taking care of all of the necessary evils like dental visits, yearly physicals, optometry appointments, haircuts, and filing taxes. Taxes! That’s even more proof that April is the cruelest month.

Still, I found time to escape the callousness of early Spring by layering up in winter clothes and taking a long walk with a lifelong friend along the rail trail in New Freedom, PA. Time spent with Melissa is treasured. If we kept up a brisk pace we could battle the crisp air, but the true warmth came from savoring a friendship that has endured through many decades.

The best thing about being planted in one spot for a month is that we have ample time to spend with some pretty remarkable kids. My heart overflows as it embraces every second spent with these rapidly growing “tweens”.

I digress. I am not yet done ranting about the brutality of April. High winds brought a tree branch crashing down through a cover on the roof of the RV. Thanks to a roll of Gorilla Tape, we are staying dry until a replacement cover can be installed. It was a smallish limb, but the noise it made when it crashed onto the roof was terrifying. We got lucky with the roof incident, but remain unlucky with house delays. Good news is that we now have insulation, and the drywall is being installed. Bad news is that the closing has slipped ANOTHER week (or more).

Why does it seem that time flies by when watching my grandkids, but it stands perfectly still when I look towards the completion of the lake house? Yet, another mystery to ponder.

We said goodbye to Coastal Carolina and began our homeward trek. Homeward is a bit of a misnomer, since we remain homeless, but, at least, we were pointed in the direction of more familiar territory. The Spanish moss faded away and was replaced by a variety of budding hardwoods, most of which were spewing fuzzy, green pollen. Through itchy eyes and sporadic sneezing we managed to do some hiking at North Carolina and Virginia State Parks. The flat, seaside terrain was behind us, and the elevation changes had us headed for the hills.

Regardless of the staircase dilemma, some progress is being made. A small part of me is actually beginning to believe that I may not be living in a truck until the end of time. That glimmer of hope is making it even harder to exercise patience. Waiting for a firm date for the inspection is like waiting for your favorite pie to cool. I don’t want to wait for my ship to come in; I want to grab a dinghy and motor out to it.

“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.” —

Leo Tolstoy

Thankfully we have lots of welcome distractions over the next month or so. We are back in the mid-Atlantic, where we were able to celebrate Easter with family and friends. With April’s promise of renewed life surrounding us, the apprehension of the setback situation eased. Spending time with the grand-nieces and grand-nephews was a powerful elixir for combatting the unpredictability of what lies ahead.

In the upcoming weeks, we have lots of softball, and travel-team baseball to enjoy. Watching our grandkids hone their skills, while gaining a true understanding of their sport is priceless. We have opportunity to chauffeur them to their music lessons, and to see the progress they have made with their respective instruments. We can have sleep-overs at the campground and play loads of games, both outdoors and indoors. We also have a school musical coming up, in which our granddaughter will play the leading role. We are beyond proud and unbelievably blessed.

… And so, we will enjoy our stay at Ramblin’ Pines campground, enjoying the warm, spring weather and relishing the time spend with people we love.

“And sure enough even waiting will end…if you can just wait long enough.”

William Faulkner

Stay tuned…