Author Joan Didion penned an award winning book entitled A Year of Magical Thinking that deals with grief, mourning, and attempts to avert abhorrent circumstances through hopeful thinking. My upcoming year is not as distressing and certainly not comparable to Ms. Didion’s year of heartbreak. Yet, I do intend to utilize her idea of magical thinking to aid in my trek through the next twelve months of vagrancy. It will be A Year of Embracing Everyday Eccentricities.

With a contract in hand, we are finally moving forward with concrete plans to have a new home built. Site planning, lot clearing, well digging and construction are projected to take a year. A year? We’ve already been living like wayward wanderers for six months. What’s another year?

Another year is an additional 365 days, another 525,949 minutes. Long-suffering perseverance is not my long suit. I am itching to see the light, but we are entering a long, long, tunnel.

So, an RV will be our abode for another trip around the sun. Big Bertha has been good to us, but her floor is constantly dirty, she smells like a dog, and she can be a tad too cold for comfort unless the outdoor temperatures are summerlike. I can endure this. Positive thinking and layered clothing. Breathe in the good. Breathe out the bad. Ommmmmm….

It’s been a gray, chilly Spring but a few rays of sun have made it through, bringing promises of warmth. Today, however, is a dank, dreary day, replete with a penetrating rain. It is not a day for getting lost in the woods, or long walks with Gypsy, or sitting around a campfire. There will be no Little League. It is certainly a rain delay kind of day.

As I open the door to my ADVENT-ure calendar, I see the weather and am inclined to slam it shut. Instead, I see that I can go to the gym, run on the treadmill while listening to a podcast and can finish reading RULES OF CIVILITY while whirling my legs on the Elliptical.

Moving from darkness towards light. Positivity is my new superpower.

Stay tuned…

It is nearing a half year since we kissed domesticity goodbye and headed out on the open road. It would be a big, fat, fib to say that it has been a rose-strewn road of exciting exploits and continual contentment. We have days that are filled with dramatic discovery and days filled with untold tedium. This is not a vacation. It is life in a truck.

There are also good days. In fact, there are GREAT days. I am able to feed my wanderlust during day-long hikes to new valleys and vistas. I can breathe in the scenery while allowing my spirit to soar.

There are campfires, and grilled meals, and owls hooting haunting lullabies.

There is minimalism and simplicity. There is something satisfying about learning to live with less.

There is only one bathroom to clean. When the sky is blue, the accommodations are not claustrophobic; they are cozy. Sure, I have to sweep the floor a dozen times per day, but it takes all of 30 seconds.

Due to close quarters, I am nearly always covered in dog hair. It is no longer bothersome. Learn to like what you cannot change. It is now a fashion statement.

There is an Irish proverb that states: “Bricks and mortar make a house, but the laughter of children makes a home.” I could not agree more. Children fill my heart and are a source of unbridled joy. They make me feel as if I have come home.

It was painful when our dream of building a new house, on a lake, fell through due to material costs, supply chain issues and all of the other nonsense that we are confronting in today’s economy. We were feeling defeated, deflated, and directionless. Our trip North took us through Lee State Park (SC), Medoc Mountain State Park (NC), James River State Park (VA) and finally, to Patapsco State Park in our “home” state of Maryland. We were home, but without a home, and with no concrete plans for how to obtain a home.

We had already had an RV site, reserved at Lake Anna State Park, for two weeks in April. Presumably we would be checking on the progress of our new abode. In spite of the angst over our housing dilemma we decided to make the most of it and take the grandkids on a camping trip anyway. No new house to get excited about, but at least we could create memories and heap affection on our favorite progeny.

We had loads of fun, playing games, hiking, making new friends, visiting Civil War battle sites, and traipsing around our empty lot.

Surrounded by love, and feeling very much at home, we decided to try our luck with another builder. It is a work in progress, but it now appears that sometime in 2023, we will have a new house, on our lot, at Lake Anna. The contract is not yet finalized, but we are on the home stretch (pun intended).

Home is the nicest word there is.

LAURA INGALLS WILDER

This, of course, means another YEAR in Big Bertha as the permitting and building begin. The Journey Continues.

Stay tuned….. & HAPPY EASTER!

As I child I could barely wait to pick up the morning newspaper to check the MLB standings and box scores. The Sunday paper had complete statistics. I committed the ERAs, batting averages and slugging percentages of the Pittsburgh Pirates to memory. My mom and her entire family were huge fans of the Bucco’s. She taught me the finer points of the game. It was a passion we shared. After attending Towson University, and moving to the Baltimore area, I began to follow the Orioles, and was soon chanting “Let’s go O’s”, and singing Thank God I’m a Country Boy during the seventh inning stretch. It’s okay to back one National League team and one American League team. I said so.

I was a city kid with no real hopes of ever getting to Florida. It was not on my family’s radar. So, I would go to sleep at night, praying for a trip to Bradenton, when I was supposed to be praying for all of those poor souls in purgatory. It took several decades, but my prayers were finally answered. Well, I mean, I made it to Lecom Park. I can only hope that those poor souls have also made it to their desired destination.

Now, having said all of that, those MLB Bums nearly ruined my miracle because of yet, another labor dispute between players and team owners. For the love of Pete, these guys all make enough money! The owners and the players have all turned into a bunch of fat cats who don’t give a hoot about their fan base. It’s sad, really sad. I remember, as a kid, taking a train to Philadelphia to watch the Pirates and the Phillies play daytime double headers. Yes, real double headers; not the watered-down, shortened inning type. We would sit in The Vet stadium all day, eating affordable hot dogs and popcorn. We brought our own coolers full of beverages. My dad could drink his own beer without paying the price of a case for a single can of lager. Now it appears that even 7-inning double headers are going to be a thing of the past.

In the 80’s, in Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium, you could pack your own container, filled with icy cold Natty Boh’s (National Bohemian Beer) and go swill suds with Wild Bill Hagy in section 34. The stadium was filled with fans. Blue collar Baltimore could afford seats. It was not all about corporate suites and who could carry the heaviest money bag.

I’m shamefully guilty of throwing greenbacks at the greedy, baseball barons. I am, however, for the record, disgruntled and disgusted at the present state of a sport I once had a genuine fervor for.

A few more days in Florida, then we make our turn North. I am VERY eager to see familiar faces.

Stay tuned…

I’ve never been a motorhead. I danced ballet, sang in a madrigal group, read classic novels and did lots of other nerdy things. I like to hike in remote areas and use pedal power to bike down long trails. Let’s just say I’m relatively low-key. However, after our recent golf outing, and Googling “must do in Adel, GA”, we came to the realization that there was only one thing left to do. So, we headed to the South Georgia Motorsports Park.

When we arrived, the drag strip was being prepared for a night of racing but the afternoon was dedicated to something called autocross. Stock cars navigated through a maze of orange cones in a race against the clock. There was plenty of loud, engine revving, squealing wheels, and blue smoke that reeked of burning rubber. I was a novice. All of this was new to me. I was hoping to see a drag race, but time (and a dog left in the RV) would not allow us to stay for the main event.

Apparently, though, motorsports is a true passion in the Deep South. From our next campsite, at Lake Manatee State Park, we could hear the unmistakable sound of speed demons putting pedal to the metal. So, on a chilly, sunny, Sunday we trekked the two miles to Bradenton Motorsports Park and finally got to see dragsters, souped-up hot rods, and motorbikes fly down the dragstrip.

I was grateful for the experience, and can see why car enthusiasts are so passionate about it. I’ll probably go back to nature, novels and nerdy endeavors but am delighted to cross one more item off of my to do list.

Most days have been beautiful and warm. Hiking has given me much needed contemplative time during which I digest the fact that our dream of a lake house is an aspiration that will not be coming to fruition. Due to supply and material issues, the cost to build on our lake lot became prohibitive. I’m not always frugal but I am practical. A price tag exceeding a million bucks for a three-bedroom house with an unfinished basement is ludicrous; laughable.

Lake Anna Lot for Sale.

Time to “pick myself up by my bootstraps” as my dad would say, and move on. Reassess. Regroup. Remind myself that there is a reason for everything. Despite the disappointment life will move on.

We are looking forward to catching a couple of Spring Training games before heading back North.

Stay tuned…

Yes, that’s me, golfing in sneakers and ill-fitting batting gloves, with a driver that is taller than I am. My dad is chuckling in heaven. He is either mortified or amused. He was a real golfer, one with trophies, and eagles and birdies to his credit. He had golf shoes, clubs that fit, and an actual golf glove (complete with ball marker.) He tried to get me interested in the sport. He wanted to teach me the beauty of medal play but I scoffed at his attempts, telling him that it was “an old man’s game” and that I would rather be grounded for a week than to spend time on a golf course. It would be an understatement to say that I am filled with regret.

Hmmm…. no ladies golf gloves at Walmart, and no sporting goods stores nearby. Batting gloves were the next best option. They were a little large, but at least I would not have to wash my hands with acetone.

I am a duffer, a hacker, the kind of golfer that you do not want in your foursome. People draw straws to see who has to take me. I like to envision my tee shots with lots of loft and distance, but most of mine are ‘worm-burners’. Thankfully, the grass was so dry that the ball seemed to roll forever. Yes, sadly, I had plenty of 9-stroke holes, but I did manage a legitimate 4, and enough solid shots to keep me coming back for more torture.

Where do you get new grips when you are rolling around in an RV?

In other news, it took Gypsy exactly three days to completely gut “Bun-Bun”, her (Ha! Ha!) indestructible, tough toy that she received for her recent birthday.

The weather has been warm and wonderful, AND today we are headed to the South Georgia Motorsports Park to check out some Autocross and Drag Racing….. I see another blog coming.

Stay tuned…

I’ve been friends with Lynn for decades and her enthusiasm for horses has never waned. I tagged along with her when she rode in various horse shows during our high school years. I had to keep my green-eyed-monster in check as I watched her perform; desperately wishing to be in the saddle, too. I was better suited for a hobby horse, but a girl can dream, right?

We were recently honored and delighted to join her, and her husband, in Thomson, Georgia for the Advanced-Pine-Top-Horse-Trials, in which her 7-year-old Dutch Warmblood was competing.

Kaballero (‘Kipper’ to his friends) is an exceedingly handsome horse with a white blaze, long neck, powerful hindquarters and a winning spirit. He is young, enthusiastic, vigorous and just recently began competing at the Preliminary Level. His spunkiness paid off during Cross Country and Show Jumping, where he had ample opportunity to showcase his desire to be airborne. He is a natural acrobat who prefers hurdles to ballroom dancing. His dressage score suffered a bit because of his reluctance to methodically tap dance for the judges. He sees himself as Edwin Moses, not as Fred Astaire. “I don’t want to do the Too-Slow-Two Step“, he whinnied in protestation a few too many times. It’s all a learning experience, and I have little doubt, that his very capable trainer, Fylicia Barr will have him doing a more peaceful polka in the dressage ring in no time.

Even when he is naughty, he is a noble beast.

Pine Top offered an amazing setting. It is a spacious and beautiful farm. The cross country course was huge, challenging, and well laid out. There were plentiful barns, fields and relief stations. The concession stand, run for the benefit of the local high school band, offered a few chortles of comic relief. A very nice, but exceedingly OCD supervisor was giving precise instruction for food preparation to high school volunteers. The ‘Sandwich-Czar’ made sure that each PB&J sandwich was made in the exact same way; a certain, measured amount of peanut butter on one side, spread with a particular knife, then jelly was to be spread only on the clean piece of bread, never on top of the peanut butter. Each sandwich took 10 minutes to make. It turns out that I’ve been doing it all wrong for the past half-century, but I can whip up a PB&J less than a minute. When it comes to peanut butter, it is function over form for me.

Because our RV (Big Bertha) was hooked up and level, 225 miles South of the horse trial venue, we opted to stay one night at the same pet-friendly hotel/motel at which our friends had made a reservation. They warned us, after their arrival, that it was a far cry from a 5-star hotel. In fact, they cautioned us that if we chose to proceed, we would be doing so at our own risk. We make some crazy sacrifices for our pets, and this was one of them. It was the sole establishment in the area that would allow for our furry friends. The hotel was worn and dated, and falling apart at the seams. There were cracked floors, missing lightbulbs, threadbare carpeting, a broken phone and even a water outage. Still, it takes more than a seedy motel to keep us from enjoying time spent with good friends.

It seems impossible, but our faithful companion has just observed her 1st Birthday. Her celebration was held at General Coffee State Park in Nicholls, GA. After an 8-mile, morning hike, she enjoyed a doggy cupcake, a bully stick, and some tug-of-war with “Bun-Bun”, her new toy, which will inevitably be gutted by the end of the week. At her tender age, this meandering mutt has been in 25 different States and has hiked hundreds of miles. There is little doubt that Gypsy is appropriately named. She is a tried and true traveler.

There is a replica of a 19th century farm at General Coffee SP that is complete with barnyard animals, so Gypsy had many furry friends to share her birthday with.

There were goats, and mules, and roosters, and wild boar. My favorite, however, were the newborn lambs that were bleating in soft, soprano voices and joyously springing about on their brand, new legs.

Georgia State Parks offer amazing trails that wind through a myriad of habitats. I have grown to truly appreciate the swamps. Once upon a time, I thought that swampland was unattractive but now, I find such beauty in these forested wetlands.

Aside from the unique farm display, there is also an interesting archery range. The campsites are large and wooded, and there are multiple playgrounds and picnic shelters throughout the park. General Coffee is well attended by families enjoying the great outdoors. It is springtime in this neck of the woods. The nights and early mornings are quite chilly but the morning sun warms the air quickly. Ahh, baby lambs and budding azaleas give me hope for an earth awaking from its silent slumber.

“Once inside… men exclaimed: ‘Is this hell?’ Verily, the great masses of gaunt, unnatural-looking beings, soot-begrimed, and clad in filthy tatters, that we saw stalking about inside this pen looked, indeed, as if they might belong to a world of lost spirits.”

W.b. smith, 14th illinois infantry, oct. 9, 1864

A drive through the South Georgia countryside led us to Andersonville, an American Civil War prison site where nearly 13, 000 soldiers died. It is now a National Park that serves as a memorial dedicated to all American soldiers held captive during any war. Casualties are expected on the battlefield but why did so many perish at Andersonville?

When you walk the grounds, you can see the perimeter of the stockade. The area that had been fenced was approximately 25 acres, with a low-lying, marshy area that served as both a source of drinking water and as a latrine. Although originally intended to imprison 10,000 POWs, the number quickly expanded to 32,000. The area was a mass of lice-covered, skeletal humans who developed dysentery. Death due to the unthinkable number of microbes in the drinking water was commonplace.

Deep in the heart of the Confederacy you are bound to find reminders of a bloody war fought between brothers. There are so many relics of an era of disgust, division and disunion. While rambling about and probing our past, it is difficult to digest the reality of man’s inhumanity toward his fellow man.

In total contrast, a short drive down the road took us to Plains, GA, the home of our 39th President. Regardless of political leanings, Jimmy Carter is inarguably a stellar example of kindness and humility.

Plains High School, from which both Jimmy and Roslyn Carter graduated, now serves as a National Historic Site and Museum. Although their personal home is blocked off from public view, the Carters continue to live in the same, modest, ranch-style house they built in 1961.

History lesson is over, class. Sorry to be so boring. The next post is bound to be less cerebral. I wonder if you can still find Billy Beer? It’s going to be near 80F today. I may need to grab a six-pack and a kayak….

Stay tuned….