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. 

Flowers of spring

 It’s the start of another quiet week.

King and I are back at the trailer while the boys are at their father’s for the week.

The good news is the “shelter-in-place” order has been lifted for San Diego County. The selfish news is that means the campground is filling up. We prefer solitude. The interesting news is we are still the oldest RV/trailer in the campground.

There was considerable excitement at our daughter’s apartment this past week. The butterfly habitat they boys received as a Christmas gift saw some activity. The butterflies started emerging from the chrysalis, which they  had formed sometime after the holiday.  Our daughter said she was quite relieved it happened on her watch and that the insects will be heading back to the boy’s father’s house so he can decide when to release them. The days can be warm, but the nights still dip into the mid-30s. It’s a heat-wave for King and me, but not so much for native Californians – butterflies among them.

We’ve had another wet week. Every time it rains I ask my daughter if the state is preparing for another “Super Bloom” – a time when the conditions are just right for the California deserts to become alive with color. She laughs at me (The nerve) and tells me over and over that a little rain does not mean the deserts will bloom. I know. But hope springs eternal.

Wildflowers at the Blair Valley Campground
in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park
near Borrego Springs, California.

According to the Death Valley website a deep soaking, gentle rain is essential for a desert floral display. A rainstorm of a half-inch or more is needed to wash the protective coating off the wildflower seeds to allow them to sprout. Then the rain must come at evenly spaced intervals throughout the winter and spring.  The best blooms are triggered by an early, winter-type rainstorm in September or October, followed by an El Nino weather pattern that brings above average rainfall to the desert.  That didn’t happen this year.

A few years ago King and I visited Joshua Tree National Park at the very end of the blooming season. It was not a “Super Bloom,” but it was impressive. I was struck by the number of cars lining the highway with people stopped to take photos. It reminded me of tourists taking photos of the

Blair Valley Campground flowers

tulips in Holland, Michigan.  

I have not been to Holland during Tulip Time since 2015. My sisters and I met there after work one evening to watch the Dutch Dancers and to have an Elephant Ear. I probably have photos of that day somewhere in my haphazard storage of photos but I just spent most of the morning looking for the desert flower photos. I’m not going hunting again.

Speaking of Tulip Time, I just checked the Tulip Time website to see if the event was going to happen this year.  (Alma, Michigan has canceled their Highland Festival already this year). Today is the last day of January and the Tulip Time website says they hope to announce festival events in January. There are none listed. I’m guessing it’s a no. I honestly don’t think I will attend large events for a least a year anyway.  I don’t live in fear, but I am claustrophobic. The thought of not being able to breathe does bother me a little.

Tulip Time does bring back some memories.

Besides growing up in Hamilton, being a band member and marching in every Tulip Time parade from seventh grade through my senior year in high school, I also worked for the Holland Sentinel for two years during Tulip Time. Working downtown Holland during the Festival means arriving early in the morning to find a parking space and either staying in the office all day (rather difficult for a reporter to do) or planning on walking several blocks to work after going out on assignment.

A co-worker came back from lunch one day and heaved a huge sigh. “I had my lunch in Centennial Park,” he said. “I met a senior citizen who was in Holland on a bus tour. She said she was traveling alone and didn’t know anyone on the tour. They stopped to take photos and when she turned to get back on the bus, she wasn’t sure which tour she belonged to. She winked at me and said, ‘We all look alike you know.’”

I asked him what he did. He said he had already eaten most of his lunch, so he shared his banana with her and took her to the Tulip Time headquarters as she wasn’t sure of which hotel her group was staying.

It’s funny… except I’m now a senior citizen too.

 

DK Update: Our new companion is rounding the corner. He now wags his tail more (even in his sleep) and has figured out how to beg for food. His spine is now less pronounced and I can count just three ribs rather than four.  I now get up with him twice a night for potty breaks rather than four to six times. I still nap when I can… just in case.

We host a sleep-over

 It’s been a quiet week.

Our grandsons were spending the week with their father so the grandparent babysitters were not needed. King and I spent the week at the trailer. I love all our grandchildren dearly, but there is a reason young people have children. At our age it takes a week to recover from the busyness of everyday kid-type activity.

But Friday we were back at it and the boys don’t disappoint when it comes to being entertained and entertaining us in return.

Saturday King decided it would be a good idea to bring the boys back to the campground for a sleep-over.

Best laid plans … It rained all day. Being from Michigan rain is an inconvenience, necessary to be sure, but an inconvenience nonetheless. But the boys were amazed.

Torrential rains do have some rewards

They were amazed by the torrents of rain coming down in sheets. (It truly does not rain much in southern California so it WAS a bit unusual). They were amazed by the sound of the rain hitting the metal roof of the trailer. They were amazed by the rivers of rain that ran across the campsite.  And they especially enjoyed watching the rain cascade down the INSIDE of the window in the front of the trailer. (Oh, the joys of owning a 38-year-old trailer).

We made donuts and frosted them with canned frosting and added sprinkles. They played on their Kindle tablets and I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to them. Saturday evening the rain let up so they donned rubber boots and winter jackets (Fifty degrees does not seem cold to me).  We marched through puddles and watched the hippogriffs circling the mountains in the distance.  Declan said there was a King of Hippogriffs living on one of the highest peaks and he and the king were friends.

As is our tradition when we babysit in the evening we have a party, which means we have popcorn and hot chocolate before bedtime. We had our party and watched a little of Star Wars, Return of the Jedi and then called it a night.

Sunday morning we explored the campground a little more. The boys were disappointed the rivers of water and puddles were gone. The campground is built on the side of a hill/mountain and since the state of California is under a shelter-in-place order only those campers with existing reservations are allowed in the campground. I think there are maybe a dozen of us in a campground with about 96 campsites. There are several tent sites perched precariously on the edge of steep hills and the boys took great joy in finding rocks and tossing them over the edge. That is until Declan picked up an unusually shaped rock and asked me what it was. I had to tell him it was coyote poop. The poor kid was mortified.  It didn’t help that Poppa and his brother teased him unmercifully. Declan is a lot like me. I hate to be teased. I see no humor in it.

Tonight it is just King, DK and me back at the trailer. It is really quiet, except for the playoffs. King is watching the Kansas City/Buffalo game.  
That seems to be the way of it. Crazy, noisy busyness and then (sigh) back to the two old farts hanging out together.

Tomorrow is the first full-week of school for the boys since last March. I think they are excited to be back to full-time.  

DK  update: The poor dog got incredibly sick for a few days. I called the vet again and told him the only thing the miracle drugs we were giving him were proving was it was a miracle the dog didn’t die.  He updated the meds and DK is doing much better.  He still lists to the left when he walks, and probably always will. But he is finally starting to wag his tail more often and actually seeks us out for an occasional scratch behind the ears. The neighbor commented this evening that he finally had a little pep in his step, as if on cue, DK fell over.

Oh well. Two steps forward, one back. I’ll take it.

 

We have one sick little doggy

Things are not going well for DK. 

We knew when we adopted him he had “some weakness” in his hindquarters. After just one week of living with us it became more pronounced and it was obvious it was far more than “some weakness.”

Poor DK walks sideways, falls down often and has a very difficult time not falling over into his own poop when relieving himself. (I tried to find a polite way to word that, but I could not).

 I also knew he had an ear infection or ear mites or both. It’s hard to mistake the awful smell and constant head shaking for anything else.

So once again I played Russian roulette and looked for a veterinarian online. It’s hard to choose a veterinarian when you don’t know anyone in the area to ask opinions. Then again,  I suppose it’s no different than selecting a veterinarian by word of mouth. Some people have good things to say, others have negative things to say. It’s a crap shoot to know who to believe.

I found a vet in Lakeside, California through Yelp and called to make an appointment. The clinic had mostly good reviews. We brought DK in yesterday (Saturday).

Without running extensive tests it’s difficult to know exactly what is wrong with DK. We know from ex-rays done by the rescuer’s vet that he does, indeed, have “some” hip dysplasia.  We have results from blood tests done by that same clinic as well – all are within normal ranges.

According to Doctor Google (online searching for those who don’t get the reference) DK has all the signs of degenerative myelopathy. (It’s similar to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis – Lou Gehrig’s disease). Those same symptoms can also be signs of a weak hip and an ear infection. Doctor Google tends to be rather pessimistic.

Truth is, diagnosing degenerative myelopathy is mostly a process of elimination, although I believe there may be a spinal test for it. Regardless of whether he has DM or dysplasia -- neither one is curable. The veterinarian at the clinic suggested we treat the ear infection, give him pain meds for joint discomfort and inflammation and add glucosamine to his regimen.  She checked his spine and found no abnormalities (a good sign).

We were also given some suggestions on how to add a little weight to his emaciated body without adding too much strain on joints. His spine juts out from his back. It’s probably from years of living on the streets and (literally) eating garbage.

DK will be with us for as long as possible. Hopefully it is nothing more than weak and sore joints.

So that is where we are with our new companion. After the vet tech cleaned his ears (he said it was gross) DK seemed to feel a little better, but he still walks like crap. Oh, we think we see a little improvement but one can never be sure if we are seeing improvement or if it is wishful thinking.

King and I decided we could live with a handicapped dog and when the time comes, hopefully we will be in Michigan and can use our own vet.

It’s a pragmatic solution. And it’s easy to be stoic about it now because for now we are doing what we should.