Time to think about heading home

 It’s the last day of February. Where did the past five months go?

When we arrived in California in November our twin grandsons asked almost every day, “Are you staying five months? That’s a long way away, isn’t it?”

They don’t ask any more because they know the time is coming when we will be leaving. Avoidance is a childhood thing, but many adults use the same technique.

To be honest, King and I don’t have any hard and fast plans, other than we know we will be back in Michigan toward the middle/end of April. He will be working grounds maintenance for the campground where we will be staying. I might possibly look for work. I don’t mind work. I just hate the commitment to be someplace at a specified time for specified hours.

Yesterday we had to move the trailer to a new campground as we had reached our 90-day limit at the place we were staying. I’ve made reservations at a variety of places that will take us to April 2^nd. After that we will find what we can with a general departure date of around April 10 – give or take a few days. This is the first year we’ve actually made reservations for camping.

But back to our move…We moved from Lake Jennings Campground in Lakeside, California to

The view from my window at Sweetwater 

 

Sweetwater Summit, a San Diego County-owned campground in Bonita, California. We are perched atop a large hill with a view of the surrounding suburbs. The two campgrounds (Lake Jennings and Sweetwater) are still about 45 minutes from our daughter but they are one of the few campgrounds in the area that will accept trailers that are as old as ours. (Our trailer turned 39 in January). When our 14-day limit is reached here at Sweetwater, we will travel to one of our favorite spots in southern California – Cibbets Flats campground. It’s a remote spot in the Cleveland National Forest. No electric, no water, no WiFi (so unless we sit outside a McDonald’s in Alpine, California to use their WiFi, no column the week of March 13). We may move on to Joshua Tree National Park. Plans are not definite --which is how we prefer it.

Today King took the time to weed the campsite. I know he is bored, but I will have to admit, it looks really nice, so his boredom is my boon, ascetically speaking. I on the other hand, decided since many

I added daisy decals to the trailer.

campgrounds discriminate against us because of our trailer’s age (and I truly do understand their reasoning) I will decorate the outside of the trailer in a manner becoming my sense of non-

We don't care what
Muggles think

conformity. I rather like daisies. Surprisingly King has not complained.

Tomorrow we are going to Oceanside so King can help a friend as her home is having some mold remediation done. The friend is out of town, so King will basically babysit the house to make certain things are done correctly. The mold remediation is being done because the roofers did NOT re-roof correctly. An unfortunate set of circumstances all the way around. But the task makes King a happy little camper as he really needs something to occupy his time since the boys will be with their father this week.

In the meantime, since the outdoor decorating is complete,  today I will read. I have about three different books going on my Kindle – one teen paranormal romance novel (I am hooked on teen angst where the heroine is in love with a boy who is also a werewolf), one non-fiction, and one adult romance. King will watch golf and perhaps might catch a few basketball games, and of course, some TV westerns. Meanwhile, the dog will tell us every three minutes he needs to go out.

And that is how we spend our retirement. No exciting plans. No big-ticket entertainment. No restaurants or fine dining (even if we could, we probably wouldn’t).  Just relaxing days filled with doing what we want, when we want it.

Not all bad.

Battle of the bands (and other battles)

I think one of the biggest differences between King and me is the way we appreciate music and watch TV.

King can basically take it or leave music; but get a few beers in him and he will listen to anything – at ear splitting decibels.  It’s quite annoying, actually, and I’m quite relieved it is not a daily occurrence.

To top off the painfully loud music, he likes to sing along – at least those few lines he knows.

 It goes something like this:  mmmmmmmm Ring of Fire mmmmmm higher and higher mmmmm.

I don’t know if he might know a second verse because before we get to it, the music station gets switched. He scrolls through the Sirius stations looking for something he likes -- it could be rock, it could be Y2K (he chaperoned a lot of high school dances in his other life) or it could be classical. And we get to listen to one or two bars of a song before he starts scrolling again.

When he hits a classical station and sticks to it, I like to annoy him be telling him who the composer is (Yes, I’m THAT person). And if, during his scrolling,  he happens upon a song (generally oldies) that I like I have to pretend to be disinterested. One simple foot tap, or lip sync and the station is changed again.

But it’s not just music that he switches. He does the same thing with the TV. He generally has two or three TV shows he follows at one time. I don’t watch TV much but listening from my reading corner in the trailer I can usually tell what he’s watching. Old TV Westerns are his favorite, along with Bewitched and Andy Griffith. But we often switch from CNN to Tales of Wells Fargo, to Wagon Train to Green Acres in a matter of minutes.

I can stop my reading for a moment, listen briefly and say to myself, “Oh, it’s the Wagon Train show. The episode where they ran out of water and almost die in the desert until a friendly Indian rescues them after the young girl with a crush on the bad boy in the next wagon runs away because her parents don’t understand her.” But sometimes he switches so quickly I’m not certain if the Wagon Train has ended up in Hooterville by mistake.

Once in a while I’ll sit with him and watch. He gets quite annoyed with me however, because not only do I know all the actors, I know their horses as well. I’ll point things out like Dale Robertson’s (Tales of Well Fargo) horse’s name was Jubliee and was a 16 hands high Quarter Horse, and that Robertson actually owned the horse and he was purchased at the Hollywood Race Track. (Try saying that in one breath while being shushed).

Audie Murphy
and Joe Queen

Audie Murphy’s horses name was Joe Queen -- another Quarter Horse. Murphy owned Joe Queen.  And John Wayne’s favorite horse was a Quarter Horse named Dollor – no “a” in Dollor. Wayne signed exclusive movie rights to the horse, but did not own him. For True Grit fans, it’s the horse that jumps the fence before Wayne rides off into the sunset at the end of the movie. 

Robertson, Murphy and Wayne were quite accomplished riders. But I read somewhere that Glenn Ford was probably one of the best. I'll have to watch more closely next time I'm allowed to watch a Western with King. 

King may think I’m an annoying know-it-all, but after 40 some years of trying to watch TV with him, I have to do something with that time – so I spend a lot of time looking up useless trivia.

But don’t tell him that. Let him think I’m a know-it-all.

Politics and other strange bedfellows

 There was a lot of political posturing over the past week, wasn’t there?

With a few exceptions, most of my Facebook friends (I don’t do Twitter or Instagram) have started to distance themselves from political comments. We are all tired of it. And I think we’ve all realized no one will change their political stance because of a post or meme on Facebook. 

What does amaze me, however, is the number of people who take what they read on Facebook as the absolute truth. The number of conspiracy theories or blatant false information that gets spread as gospel truth is disheartening. I suppose it hits me harder than it should as I spent most of my adult life as a reporter.  A true news report has been fact-checked relentlessly before it is published or aired. So taking a few minutes to check out the truth in a Facebook post is second nature to me.  And it’s fairly easy to do.  Lately when I find something that does not pass the truth test, where I used to argue, I now just shake my head and move on.

The fact is the anonymity of making a post emboldens people to treat others awfully.  I’m tired of seeing the words libtard, sheep, repug, snowflake (both political sides are equally guilty)… Disagreeing with someone is one thing, telling them they are an atheist because of their political party is something else.

Ahhh, but life goes on.

This weekend, in addition to being Valentine’s Day, is President’s Day weekend. For those California schools that are back in session, it means it’s a four-day weekend. The campground is packed. I think there are four empty sites. 

We’ve been wintering in California for four or five years now (I’ve lost track). It’s taken me that long to realize that while camping in February in Michigan is basically only for the truly die-hard camping enthusiast; it is an excellent time to camp in California. (Summers in southern California are beastly hot).  What I have also noticed is that while I find 50 degrees comfortable, Californians do not share my assessment.

Yesterday while DK and I were on our morning walk, I noticed most of the campers were huddled around their campfires wearing winter coats and gripping mugs of hot coffee. I was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and was quite comfortable.

Apparently weather tolerance, like politics, is all a matter of perspective or what one can tolerate.

It’s hard to believe it’s the middle of February. It’s time to make our tentative summer plans.

 Right now our plans are to stay at the Kal Haven Outpost campground in South Haven for the summer. They open April 15. I have an appointment with the Michigan Secretary of State set for April 26, so we will have to arrive in Michigan sometime between the 15^th and 26^th.

That’s as much pre-planning as King and I care to do as anything more than that would require a commitment – and we can’t have that.

 

Living the dream

A high school friend has earned a residency at the Pamlico Rose Institute where she spends her days creating truly beautiful stained glass art. I am so happy for her. I am also so jealous.

I used to scour announcements for writing residencies throughout the United States. I never earned one. I never applied.  I’m pretty sure there is a correlation there.

I hear from so many who say they wish they could do what King and I are doing… traveling the United States in a travel trailer. Fact is, with a few exceptions, there is no reason why anyone can’t. You have to decide what your priorities are and decide if you truly want to travel full-time or if it is the thought of traveling you love.  

I am fairly certain it wasn’t a residency I craved but the thought of a residency that enthralled me.

Traveling, however, is something I wanted to do for a long, long time.

The view from our backdoor.

I recall the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college when I was working for Dad at the dog food factory. I was miserable. I had never been one to test the waters with my parents, but being home after a year on my own was…difficult.  I was counting down the days to return to school but also dreamed of taking my college savings, buying a van and just taking off for parts unknown.

But life has a way of evening itself out. 

I discovered I could still love my parents while living my life my way, and I really did NOT have to please them. Despite their warnings that King and I were pretty young to get married while still in college, we stubbornly continued with our determination to do exactly that.

We married when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. King graduated the following year. I earned my degree following the eight-year plan. In fact our last child was born three months after I graduated. We got jobs.  We watched countless soccer and little league games. We attended parent-teacher conferences.  We sat in emergency rooms waiting for stitches.  I hauled horses across the state to horse shows.  We dealt with rebellious teens. I cried at high school, U.S. Navy and college graduations. We both cried when we sent our daughter off to parts unknown after boot camp.  We cried at weddings.  We said final goodbyes to our parents and a sibling.  And then we retired.

There was a whole lot of living between our wedding in 1976 and our pulling out of the driveway for a final time with our travel trailer in tow in 2018. Life, once again, is being done our way.

We never were what one might call frugal. Oh we certainly live frugally, but most of the time it is out of necessity. We still fly by the seat of our pants and deal with catastrophes as they happen – much as we have most of our lives. And I think it takes a kind of “come what may” attitude that has helped us make the decision to live a nomadic lifestyle.

If you study blogs and websites about life on the road, money is always a concern. Young people look for ways to earn a living while traveling. Retirees solemnly warn of dire consequences of not having a healthy nest egg.  Our nest egg is large enough for one of us to have the blue-plate special.

While on our travels we’ve come across many other retirees who travel as we do. Or, I should say, they sort of travel as we do. Our 23-foot, 38-year-old travel trailer pales by comparison to their fully equipped, ultra modern, really fancy homes. I like my travel trailer. It’s paid for, and it wasn’t financed. We have done some repairs and have more to do before we head back to Michigan for the summer, but that’s the way of it. 

Several years ago I ran into a friend who told me they sold their smaller trailer for a larger one because it was “difficult to live four months of the year in something so small.”

Small? Oh honey.

 I don’t have what one might call a “full” kitchen.  My refrigerator is the size of a dorm refrigerator. My living room is also my dining room. My bathroom is smaller than a broom closet. In fact, I believe there are many walk-in-closest that are larger than the 184 square feet King and me share with our dog.

Sunrise over Lake Jennings

But this morning I watched the sunrise over the mountains and reflect off the lake. Yesterday we drove from the desert to mountains covered in snow. (And got out and took photos of the snow because being from Michigan, snow is such a novelty – not). Last night we walked a trail that ran along the lake and I gathered a few white sage leaves to burn in an incense burner. Many days are the same. Many are not.

In a few months we will hitch up the trailer and head east. Meandering through deserts and (if we take a really, really southern route) driving along the gulf coast. We have no plans, just a target date of returning to Michigan to finally get a title transfer (that pesky pandemic) at an end-of-April appointment made six months ago.

Is this for everyone? 

Absolutely not. It takes work and a commitment to remain friends with an individual you occasionally want to castrate. 

Thinking about doing the full-time travel gig?

A few things to consider if you are a couple: Can you hitch a trailer without wanting to kill one another? Can you forgive your partner for things that were said while backing the trailer? Can you immediately forget what was said while hitching or backing said trailer? Can you spend 24/7 with your partner? Can you hitch and back alone if forgetting unkind words is a little difficult for a few hours?

Can you calmly say, “Your exit is on the right in 10 miles. It’s still on the right, in six miles. Still on the right – two miles. The lanes are clear. You can get over now.  That was your exit. Do you want to find a way to turn around or should I find another route? I know it’s four hours out of the way. We missed the exit, remember?”

Reality is, it is fun. Reality is, it is a lot of work.

We are living the dream.