Getting on…

February 14, 2024. It’s been a very grueling past few days; we made the hard decision to put down our 18-year-old fur baby, Victor. He had had the best life ever, having gotten to travel all over the country and having gotten spoiled beyond measure. When he turned 18 last June, we began giving him anything he wanted to eat because why not? The last three years had been really hard on him, though, and the once-rambunctuous chihuahua had become very debilitated…doggie dementia, arthritis and a tumor on his tail that had been operated on twice had finally taken their toll. The tumor returned in earnest about a year ago and had recently grown to the point where I was afraid it would burst. When it began to bleed on Friday, I knew in my heart what was imminent, and it wasn’t going to be surgery. I just didn’t want to put Victor through that again.

By Monday afternoon we were on our way to West Kentucky Veterinary Hospital, our vet when we lived here. They still had his records. We’d come to the hardest part about being a pet owner, so when our daughter offered to meet us there, I welcomed the support. She was with me on the day when I adopted Victor from the humane society here in 2006, and now she was with me on his last. I’ve been through this experience several times before, and it doesn’t get easier. In fact, this time was the absolute worst because it was Victor. He was more than just a dog; to us, he was our child.

Victor, the spoiled pup who got to eat anything he wanted (within reason), gorged on chocolate chip cookies and Reese’s peanut butter cups as his last meal. Everyone at the veterinary hospital involved was so compassionate, the process wasn’t at all rushed, and Victor was in my arms when he took his last breath. That was less than 48 hours ago.

When I woke up at 2:34 a.m. this morning, I already had seven hours of sleep. Victor has gotten us in the habit of going to bed around 7:30, so I was well rested. I knitted and drank coffee. I listened to the next lesson in my Bible study. Around 6 a.m. I started making bacon roses for Dave like I do every Valentines Day. Out of nowhere, a wave of sorrow suddenly washed over me and I began crying hard. I missed Victor so much, and even though I knew the right decision had been made, I needed reassurance.

I cried out loud while I sobbed and asked God to give me a sign that Victor was okay. And for good measure, I added “in Jesus’ name” because Jesus himself said, “that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it to you.”(John 16:23) I wasn’t testing God; I knew He’d come through. I just didn’t know when. I would just have to be watchful.

The smell of bacon baking wafting back into the bedroom woke Dave up. Sunrise had begun by this time and I wandered up towards the front of the motorhome to see if it was colorful enough to bother photographing; sometimes it is. I happened to look down at my collection of ducks that were lined up on the dashboard. Or at least they had been lined up all in a row. But they weren’t now. When I asked him if he’d done anything with the ducks, Dave said ‘no.’ And there’s no one else who could have, or would have.

Is that odd, or is that God?

I know what I believe. There’s no doubt in my mind that was the sign I’d asked God for. Especially given the sense of peace and comfort I immediately felt, I’d gotten all the reassurance I could have ever asked for. What an awesome God He is!

My husband, who’s on the fence when it comes to believing in God, is now rethinking his stand. I don’t blame him; the sign was obvious, though, even to him. Some things just can’t be denied.

The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. ~Psalm 145:18

Mid-winter madness

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. ~Anne Bradstreet, American poet

Monday, February 5, 2024.

I hope that this finds you well and content, wherever you are, and that your winter is moving quickly along. We’re doing our best to hang in there and maintain a positive attitude…but cold, wet and gray gets old after a while. Thank God the sun has shone and the temperatures have been as high as the lower 60’s a few days this week. It gives me hope that spring is just around the corner.

In mid-January we had some super-low temperatures at night, which neither we–nor our rig–have seen for a few years, and we were all out of practice when it came to dealing with it. Keeping Felix’s plumbing, both intake and outgo, from freezing up was challenging enough, but one failure after another kept happening. In just a matter of days, the grey water and black water valves froze up…the black water tank got clogged…the drain hose froze, twice…the electric coil for the hot water tank burned out…the toilet had to be replaced…the stereo quit working (the one quick fix! just a fuse)…one of the supports to the basement doors broke…and just recently the outlet for the washer quit working, necessitating the need for that to be replaced.

So often we muse, “if this lifestyle was easy, everybody’d be doing it,” mainly because of the concessions one has to make to live in a very small space. But after all those failures, even I was beginning to wonder if this lifestyle was worth it. At any rate, Felix is going to need some TLC when we get back to Arkansas. Not only are 97% of Dave’s tools there, but so is Brian, our trusted RV mechanic, who’s going to do the things Dave can’t. While he’s a terrific handiman and can fix just about anything, a knee that can’t be bent definitely limits what he can and cannot do.

The weather has kept us indoors for the most part, but it’s not like we don’t try to be active. The local bowling alley has a daily special from noon until 5 p.m., “Bowl Your Brains Out,” when you can bowl as many games as you want for $11, and we do love to bowl. We even travel with our bowling balls, which our granddaughter finds hilarious. “Mimi,” she’ll lament, “you’re always SO concerned about storage and weight in the RV, and here you carry around your bowling balls!” It’s true. I am a minimalist in just about everything, but I do have my priorities. A lesson was learned, though, when Dave unpacked his bowling ball and discovered something else the cold temps could do…

The main reason we’re here this winter is to help our daughter, Kate, who’s got her hands full with raising two teenagers, running a business and maintaining a home. I remember being her age and having the realization that it was actually during the teenage years that kids needed their parent’s attention and love the most. Especially these days, when there are bad influences everywhere. So, we are here to assist-as-needed…mostly shuttling Maeby to where she needs to be so that Kate can work–whether that’s from school to home, or to a friend’s house, or to volleyball lessons or where she volunteers or wherever–and helping Kate when asked.

I’m glad we made the decision to spend the winter here in Kentucky instead of going to Rockport, Texas, where we’d already made reservations. It’s nice to be wanted, needed, and appreciated! Nine local restaurants serve beer from Hopkinsville Brewing Company, and delivering it is just something else she’s got to do. Just the other day she asked me to go with her to deliver beer to a restaurant in Madisonville, and it was a lot of fun just being with her while she was out doing her thing. One day in January, she needed someone to mind the brewery while she made deliveries, so Dave volunteered…which meant he got to hang out at HBC and pour beer for customers for a couple of hours. The best part was that he had a whole new audience for his quips! He had a great time, I suggested he ask Kate to put him on the schedule just to give him something to do, but that was before things started going south in the RV.

Spring can’t come soon enough! Living with another person in a somewhat small and confined space is challenging enough, but when weather or temperatures force the situation for days that turn into more than a week, it becomes even more serious. Especially when it seems like everything is going wrong all at once. So I needed to find something to do to be occupied while Dave was fixing things…,

Even though we’ve been cooped up inside for the most part this winter, I find it easy to stay busy. What I don’t do is sit and watch television (for more than 3 years now) nor stay online for any length of time. I’ve become a hermit, kind of. I love to learn, though, and recently I learned how to do something new in knitting. I’ve been doing a lot of it, however, I don’t have much to show because I keep making mistakes and have to start all over. It’s SO frustrating, but I love it and I keep starting over. It’s a challenge; and plus, I’m stubborn. At any rate, it keeps me purposefully busy, which is all a person with ADHD ever wants. Up until now, I’ve only knitted scarves, so this is the biggest project I’ve attempted. With luck, it will grow up to be a shawl someday.

Another thing that been occupying me this winter is reading, and I’ve been amazingly diligent about a daily read-the-Bible-in-a-year plan that I started back in September. I’ve NEVER been interested in reading the Bible–but what can I say? God works in mysterious ways. Every day, I follow along while listening to it being wonderfully narrated by Max McLean, an American actor most noted for his stage adaptations of books by author C. S. Lewis. I never, ever, would have thought that I’d read the Bible, but I must admit that now it’s the first thing I read every morning, it’s that good. Because it’s true, I find myself going down rabbit holes to find out more about why certain things happened and the people involved. It’s an interesting journey, for sure.

Our short term plan is beginning to fall into place. We’re hoping to travel back to Arkansas in mid-March (which is only 6 weeks away!) and enjoy our spot there on the lake for a little while. Felix is already scheduled for some TLC, and in a way, we are too, as we have doctors appointments to take care of. Sometime around the the eclipse, April 8th, we hope to be heading back here for baseball games and Bobby’s high school graduation.

But as we continue to find on a daily basis, things change. So we are learning how to be flexible and go with the flow. Seems to be a good way to be these days. Until next time…peace, love & smiles! ~Maria

…just add water.

January 3, 2024

Happy New Year, still. I hope this finds you well and content, wherever you may be, and I pray that 2024 is a very good year for all of us.

We just returned to Hopkinsville yesterday after spending nine glorious days on the Gulf coast in Gulf Shores, Alabama. I’ve always known that ‘water’ somehow factored into my overall well-being, and I’ve been eagerly looking forward to this respite from reality (spending the winter somewhere cold instead of going south like we planned) for quite some time. There’s just something about being by the water that’s good for one’s soul. It’s revitalizing.

This was the first time we ever visited Gulf Shores, though there were a couple of times that we actually lived along the Gulf Coast, not too far from here–in a house–Pensacola/Gulf Breeze, FL (1985-91) and Bay Saint Louis, Mississippi (2004-05). We even lived in Alabama for a little while, too (Dothan, 1981-85), and drove down to Destin and Navarre (pre-development) whenever we could. I couldn’t help but think, as we drove past multi-million dollar homes along the parkway, “What if we still lived there? What if Dave hadn’t taken that job in San Diego? What if Hurricane Katrina hadn’t happened and our house wasn’t destoryed? In essense, I was questioning the past and indulging in a bit of self-flaeggelation along the way. Ouch. But one can’t help but wonder when one “goes back” to someplace one once lived. That’s just human nature.

Gulf State Park was the site of our holiday gathering–us in the campground and the kids in one of the cabins. Both places were impressive.

The campground is huge! but amazingly, not Alabama’s biggest state park; that would be Oak Mountain, further north on I-65. But here at GSP, there are 496 full hook-up sites on concrete pads. Spacious and clean. Less than two miles from the beach, with 28 miles of biking and hiking trails. Facilities include a camp store, laundry facility, pool, tennis and pickleball courts, a nature center (with lots of planned events), an activities building, and probably more that I didn’t see. There are four restaurants in the park, some beachfront. The campground was packed the five days we were there, and it was hard to believe that this was the OFF-season.

Eagle Cottages, where the kids stayed, are situated along Lake Shelby within the park. There are eleven 3-bedroom/3-bath units, and all were completely decorated for Christmas, including evergreen garlands, lights, and Christmas tree. Two screened-in porches and another one off to the side made the cabin seem even bigger. All in all, everyone loved their accomodations.

We only went out to eat once during the five days that the kids were down, relying on already-cooked meals from Publix to satisfy our appetites, so as not to shackle any one person to the galley. There was only one snafu: I’d ordered the already-baked turkey breast meal, including all the fixings, to be picked up on Christmas Eve, that I figured we’d eat either that evening or on Christmas Day. I probably won’t do that again; the store was SO crowded! We waited in line for more than half an hour before working our way up in the queue to be helped. I felt sorry for the harried assistant deli manager; it seemed like everyone wanted her attention that day.

I didn’t think much about it when she pulled our order out of the massive refrigerator behind the deli counter. It was only when we got it back to the kids’ cabin that we discovered that the bird was frozen through and through. There was no way we’d be eating turkey that day, or the day after, and maybe even the day after. I felt sick. It took days for me to put together the perfect Christmas dinner and then to order it online (challenging in and of itself), and now it seemed all my planning was for naught.

Kate called the store right away and explained the situation to the customer service person who, no doubt, was horrified at the thought of a frozen Christmas bird being given to a customer on Christmas Eve. Back to the Publix we went, where we were greeted cheerfully, yet cautiously, by the assistant deli manager, replacement Boar’s Head turkey in hand. I’m sure she was pleasantly surprised that we werenā€™t angry or otherwise put out by the situation…no doubt she had her fill of irate customers over the past day or so. Behind her came a young man, who turned out to be the store manager, with two pies in his hands for us, to compensate us ‘for our bother’ and probably hoping I wouldn’t write a scathing review online. By this time the crowd had really thinned out, and I was just grateful that everything worked out. And all in all, all of the food was great. It definitely beat going out to eat all the time.

We went bowling on Christmas Eve and to the beach on Christmas Day, and I can’t think of a better holiday than that.

They all had to go back to Kentucky on Thursday, but we wanted to savor our time in Gulf Shores…it took us long enough to get there and who knows if we’d ever come back? Someone was scheduled to come into our site at the state park, so we scrambled to find something along the coast, preferably not too far away. We tried going to Bay Saint Louis, but the rate at the Silver Slipper Casino was $100/night, and that wasn’t even on the water.

As luck would have it, there was a spot available for four nights at Fort Morgan RV Park, only 13 miles from where we were at GSP. It was a terrific discovery! It’s a very small park with a variety of sites, both large and small. Maneuvering a large trailer or 5th wheel might be a challenge, but parking the motorhome was easy. The location was perfect: far enough away from the Gulf Shores crowd (which picked up considerably at the start of the New Year’s Eve holiday weekend), but close to things like a couple of good restaurants (pizza, Cajun shrimp boils) and just minutes away from the Mobile Bay Ferry, which turned out to be an adventure in itself!

The ferry transports cars, trucks, small campers and RV’s (less than 20′) and passengers to Dauphin Island, and provides fantastic views of both Fort Gaines and Fort Morgan, two historic forts that have long guarded the entrance of Mobile Bay. The fare depends on the type of vehicle, number of passengers, and season. It cost us $27 to go to Dauphin Island and $15 to return (receipt needed.) The ferry operates on a first-come, first-served basis, and monitoring its Facebook page is important so that you don’t chance getting a spot on the return passage. If you do miss the boat, it’s about a three-hour drive back to Fort Morgan.

Once on the island, we drove west until we couldn’t anymore and walked on the beach that seemed to go on forever. We also found Indian Shell Mound Park, with mounds estimated to date back to the Mississippian Era between 900 and 1500 B.C. There are huge palmetto palms and, among the enormous moss-draped oaks, one tree reputed to be more than 8 centuries old! We also found Skinner’s Seafood, had one of the BEST Cajun boils ever, and learned what Royal Reds are (shrimp caught in very deep, icy cold waters…taste like lobster.) šŸ˜‹

Nine days never went by faster, and if it’s any indication, everybody wants to do it again next Christmas. So that’s a good thing, because family get-togethers can go either way. šŸ˜‰

So here we are, back in Hopkinsville, with no particular travel plans in the foreseeable future. Although I complain about being cold, I really am glad to be closer to family. I’m grateful to have friends here, too, and have even had some lunch dates, with more to come, now that the holidays have passed. I have a couple of ‘goals’: 1) is to learn how to knit a cap now that I can do a scarf, and 2) is to listen to an audio book that’s been on the back burner for way too long (The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis).

For almost a year I’ve been a part of a group of women who meet weekly with the purpose of enriching our spiritual lives through Bible study, discussion and prayer. It’s an interesting mix of believers; one or two seem to know the Bible inside and out, most go to regular services, and then there’s me. A workamper at our resort started it in the fall of 2022, but within weeks everyone went their separate ways for the winter. A few of us revived it last spring when we returned to the resort but, being travelers, having “in person” meetings was hit-and-miss, at best, even though we all wanted the group to continue.

The group branched out to include some friends who just wanted to join. Somewhere along the line, I found myself volunteering to get a Zoom account and host the weekly gatherings, and that’s the way we’ve been connected ever since. It is so uplifting to get together for 30-40 minutes every Tuesday with likeminded women from all over the country who are on the same page when it comes to God.

I suppose it’s through osmosis that my faith has been strengthened to the point where I can’t fathom, much less understand, how people can not believe in God, especially in the times in which we live. Delving more into the Bible has unearthed a reality I never really understood, or wanted to, and it’s amazing! Having left organized religion decades ago, my change of heart is a miracle, for which I welcome and am so grateful! It gives me hope for the future and belief that the best is yet to come. Happy, Happy New Year, Friends!

Carpe Diem (Seize the day. Enjoy the moment.)

To everything (Turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (Turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose under heaven
~Turn! Turn! Turn!, written by Pete Seeger and recorded by the Byrds

November 25, 2023.
It was only two weeks ago that we changed our minds about spending the winter in Texas and decided to go to Kentucky instead. And as I look around me, I can’t believe we are already here and are as settled-in as we’re going to get. Things sometimes change without much planning.

Where we are is a tiny campground, and we were lucky to get a spot because there arenā€™t many campgrounds around here that are open during the winter months. We are one of only eleven RVs parked on an all-gravel lot, and weā€™re the only motorhome. If I opened the window and stuck out my arm, I could probably touch our neighbor’s truck…itā€™s that close. So the usual outdoor set-up–patio rug, chairs, grill and fire pit–will remain in the basement while we’re here. The old Oatts Cemetery, with just a dozen or so headstones (some more than a hundred years old) only a few yards away and the Dollar General directly across the street make this one of the more unique campgrounds we’ve ever stayed at. Located at the northernmost end of the southernmost county on a 2-lane, shoulderless road, we are about 20 miles away from town–and our daughter’s house. Family is why we’re here.

Compared to our lot in Arkansas, the difference is like night and day. I don’t mean to sound snobbish, but where Felix is parked at least seven months out of the year is a dream: a wide open space on the lake, few neighbors, surrounded by rugged bluffs and the foothills of the Ozarks. To be there is an absolute blessing.

Despite an over-simplified lifestyle, I still have some “must haves,” like reliable heat when it’s cold. And as low-maintenance as I thought I was, I was surprised to realize that I have a feeling of entitlement about certain things. Like propane–and having it brought to us and pumped directly into the on-board tank. That’s how it’s been everywhere else we’ve stayed for any length of time, so to discover after several phone calls that that wasn’t available anywhere around here (despite being told it was) was not just disappointing–it was quite a blow! Besides needing it to cook, propane is what fuels our furnace, and we can’t do without it. Not here. The temperatures are predicted to dip into the 20’s next week, and it’s not even officially winter.

Fortunately, our daughter had extra propane tanks. As I typed that just now, a deep feeling of gratitude washed over me: What a blessing that was! I always thought Kate was out of the ordinary, and something like this is just another reason why. How many people have extra propane tanks lying around? And, thankfully, we have an adaptor, so other than shlepping a 30# tank back and forth for refills, propane shouldn’t be a problem. We may end up having to find a chiropractor, but at least we won’t freeze.

Like everywhere else we’ve ever lived, it’s nice coming back from a “familiarity” point of view. Having lived here eight years, I still know where things are and the shortcuts to get to there. I’m blessed to have a lot of friends locally. And there’s even an Aldi’s, which is a real bonus because it’s my favorite grocery store. I have so very much to be thankful for.

I already know that I’ll have to find things to do to occupy myself this winter to keep the winter blues away…as well as to keep from killing Dave. I’m being facetious. I’m probably dating myself, but I can’t get the movie, The Shining, out of my head–you know, the one where Jack Nicholson plays a writer who selfishly thinks it’s a good idea to take his family to an isolated hotel for the winter so that he can be undisturbed while writing his novel. Instead, the insulation and lack of human contact eventually takes it toll when they’re completely snowed in, his young son begins seeing horrific forebodings and Jack Nicholson goes berserk and runs throughout the desolute hotel with a knife crying, “Here’s Johnny!” I really doubt that it would ever get to that extreme, but just in case, I better find something constructive to do over the coming weeks.

If my journal is any indication, Iā€™m going to be writing more while weā€™re here than I have been in recent months, mostly because of spending more time indoors. Life is what we make itā€¦I always try to remember that. Until next time ā€¦ ā¤ļø

Lots to Love

August 26, 2023. It’s been a while since I’ve written because we have had a low-key summer for the most part and haven’t done much traveling to speak of. This blog isn’t about going anywhere but about how fast things can happen unexpectedly. As if summer hasn’t gone by fast enough, the past month has passed by even faster. In early July, we semi-began to consider the possibility of getting a different lot here at Ozarks RV Resort…not that we didn’t like the lot we had. We did. Lot 37 is a corner lot, very nice and one of the biggest (if not the biggest) lots here. It is a huge lot, more than just the two of us needed.

Anyway, I had asked Dave previously if he’d be willing to be open to the possibility of a different lot if it had everything we wanted, to include an outdoor kitchen and a waterview. We spend a lot of time outside. At this point, we don’t have an exit plan regarding the RV. God willing, our hope is to spend a few more years RVing, or at least, continue living in the motorhome, until we can’t anymore. I guess. I don’t know. Who does, really? But “here” seems to suit us, in the middle of nowhere and yet not too far from civilization. If we were to get a different lot, it would be the end all.

Well, we dropped Felix, our motorhome, off at Cummings Diesel in Springfield on Monday, July 10th, for routine maintenance and headed up to St. Louis to visit my brother and sister-in-law for a couple of days. Along the way we talked about a waterfront lot at the resort we’d seen a couple of times and decided to inquire further. Dave called the seller and was told that he only wanted to sell it for five years, at which time he would buy it back. Good luck with that! Obviously, that conversation didn’t go very far, and it has since been fun to relate to others, just to see their reactions.

Two days later, on Wednesday the 12th, we drove back from St. Louis to Springfield (3 hours+, including stops for Victor and naturally, Uranus) to retrieve Felix. Midway during the 60-mile drive back to the resort I noticed a crack in the windshield. It was large enough that I probably would have noticed it earlier if I’d been sitting in the passenger seat. But I was sitting on the couch behind the driver’s seat for most of the ride, dealing with Victor, who was tired of being in the car all day and very hangry, and didn’t see it until I switched seats. We were glad when we finally got home in one piece. Literally.

The next day, Thursday, July 13th, I walked across the street to visit a friend who’d just gotten home from a stay in the hospital. Just to see her reaction, I told her about the guy who wanted to sell his lot for five years. It was not what I expected. She announed that she and her husband had decided that very day to sell their lot and their RV because they were buying a house in Mountain Home. Their lot was exactly what we had in mind, and even had a little fenced-off area for Victor. Next thing I knew, we’d agreed to purchase their lot. Less than a week later, we had a buyer for ours.

So, here it is, one month later, August 12th, and we’re sitting on our new lot, #119. The funny/not funny thing about the cracked windshield–which happened exactly one month ago today- -is that it kept us from leaving on August 2nd as planned, and making the trip to Aubun, Alabama to see our daughter graduate, something we’d made reservations for months ahead of time. It was so disappointing, but thankfully we were able to watch the ceremony online. One month later and the windshield still hasn’t been replaced! Don’t even get me started on Progressive insurance and the multiple “representatives” assigned to our claim; that’s another story. BUT, all things considered, it was a blessing that we were here and not somewhere else.

Williamstown and Petersburg, Kentucky

My husband and I have been in western Kentucky for almost two weeks helping our daughter, a single-mom with a lot on her plate: two teenagers, her own business and graduate school, just to name a few. While she’s taking our grandson to where his travel baseball team has to be, we are here with our granddaughter, who has her own schedule of activities and has to be shuttled here and there. We’re happy to do it, especially since we used to live here, too. It’s a familiar place.

Travel ball is intense. The season is short–less than two months–so there’s a multi-day tournament every weekend, sometimes hundreds of miles away. When our daughter and grandson came home last Friday for a few days in between tournaments, Dave and I decided to get out of town and give them their space. There’s an old saying I believe to be true: Fish and company go bad after three days. The last thing I want to be is a bother and besides, there’s is still so much of this wonderful world I have not seen.

The Ark Encounter is a place I’ve been wanting to experience for quite some time, and I’ve been pondering why. As I’ve said before in a previous blog, I’m not religious, but I do believe that every word in the Bible is true, and I’ve never questioned the story of Noah building the ark. I just couldn’t fathom it. So maybe it came down to the fact that I’m from Missouri, the Show Me state, and I needed to be shown. What surprised me is that my husband was all for it, even though he’s agnostic. Or at least, that what he says.

Williamstown is north of Lexington and south of Cincinnati, a 4-hour drive and one time zone away from Hopkinsville. I figured we’d get there too late to see the Ark Encounter Saturday, so once we got settled into our hotel room, I got on their website to buy our tickets. I’m glad I did. From our hotel room the next day, I saw cars lined up to enter the Ark’s parking lot more than an hour before it opened at 1:00 p.m. Dads got free admission since it was Father’s Day and there were a lot of dads there with their families. I couldn’t get over the size of the crowd. It was like a Trump rally…way more people than you could ever imagine, and even though there were a lot of people, they were considerate and well-behaved. The people-watching was great! In one of our conversations afterwards, Dave and I talked about the massive crowd and wondered how many were real believers and how many were there, searching for some kind of hope for a fallen world. That would be an interesting survey.

Mere words cannot come close to describing the Ark. Even before I went, I knew I’d want to write about the experience. But here it is, four days later, and I’m still trying to digest everything. There was so much to see and so much information to read. Everything about it was overwhelming at the time, and like trying to drink water out of a firehose. The displays and exhibits were phenomenal, but it was the sheer architectural structure that was the highlight.

The world’s largest free-standing timber-frame structure, the Ark is more than 500 feet in length (for comparison, a football field is 360 feet), 75 feet wide and 45 feet high. Its bow–designed to obstruct wind and prevent capsizing–is 104 feet tall, and the stern is 80 feet tall. Some people claim the bow and stern are inaccurate or mislabled, but they don’t understand the purpose of Noah’s ark.

The ark was meant to withstand very rough seas and preserve life during a global flood. It was a lifesaving vessel, and much like Moses’ basket, it was built for protection, not navigation. There was no need to navigate–the entire world was covered with water.

There are three decks of informative exhibits and displays, so a lot of walking is required. The first deck was filled with animal cages of various sizes, clay pots and burlap bags used to store food and water, and everything needed to rebuild life all over again: tools, seeds, plants.

The exhibits on the second deck were fantastic, especially the Animal Care exhibit. Given that there were approximately 1,398 animals (based on researchers’ findings) and only Noah, his wife, their three sons and their wives to care for them, the exhibit offers a possible explanation as to how this might have been done.

The architecture was magnificent. Engelmann spruce logs, more than 3 feet in diameter, were used to support the massive internal structure. The ark’s integrity needed to withstand the violent storms, waves and hurricane-like conditions. Could Noah have built something such as this? Considering he was more than 500 years old when he fathered his first child, Noah probably had a lot of knowledge and expertise. He may have hired help to build the ark; they may not have believed in Noah’s cause, but that wouldn’t have prevented someone from working for pay.

The third deck had more exhibits related to the flood and its effect on our world. Some had very interesting comparisons between the evolutionary and biblical worldviews. Questions relative to the ice age that resulted from the unique conditions created by the flood were presented and addressed. By this time my eyes were crossed from all the reading and the the enormity of the experience. We decided to call it a day after about 4 hours and come back the next. We had purchased the 3-day Bouncer Pass, so we weren’t in a hurry. Besides, we left Victor in the hotel room and needed to get back to him.

It was pouring down rain the next morning when we went to the Creation Museum, the sister-attraction to the Ark, and actually built several years before. I was grateful we both had packed jeans, given the rain and the cold front that followed, and that there was an umbrella tucked away in the car. I had zero expectations for this place because I didn’t even know of its existence until we went to the Ark. But, oh my! The world must have been truly exquisite in the beginning.

The Creation Museum brings the history of the Bible to life. It is designed to show geological, biological, astronomical and anthropological evidence that’s foundational to the Bible. Throughout the museum, both Biblical (God’s word) and naturalistic (man’s word) are presented side-by-side. I think that really made an impression with Dave. Creation and evolution are presented; the former as being based in the Bible, the latter based on man’s interpretation of some source. People can make their own choice as to what to believe.

Naturalistic evolution tries to explain everything without God. Creationists and evolutionists share the same data, study the same fossils, trees and stars. Creationists believe the world is about 6,000 years old, and evolutionists believe it’s millions of years old. Because the starting points are different, the conclusions are, too.

Like the Ark, the Creation Museum is a wealth of information on a variety of subjects, and it’s a lot to take in. I am so glad we got the $3 guidebook for each museum. The Monday crowd wasn’t as large as Sunday’s, but there were a lot of people at the Creation Museum anyway. After all the walking we did at the Ark, we got tired after just a couple of hours of being here and decided to head back to the hotel, rest a bit and then go back to the Ark. We still had the third floor to explore, and we were leaving the next day. So, we just saw a short 3-D movie, wandered around past the exhibits and took in the lush outdoor (albeit, soaked) sites before making the long walk from the museum through the gardens and then on to the parking lot. And it was still raining.

By the time we drove back to the Ark it was early afternoon and the rain had subsided. What a difference a few hours made in the amount of cars in the parking lot and number of visitors! We were behind a group that had need to use the elevator, and our ears perked up when we heard that! After all the walking we had already done, taking an elevator up to the third floor sounded like music to our ears. We asked the group if we could tag along with them in the elevator, and they obliged.

We picked up where we left off the day before and took in more information about the aftermath of the great flood: the ensuing ice age, Babel and the origin of our language families, the Rainbow Covenant, and an exhibit on various doors mentioned in the Bible: the Passover door, temple doors, the sheep’s door, the tomb’s door, the narrow door and last, but certainly not least, the Ark door. The series of doors highlights Biblical history, and each door symbolizes a form of salvation. In the case of the Ark door, God sealed the door shut after Noah and his family brought in all the animals, proving His mercy and justice. The wicked world was outside and everything in it would perish, but Noah’s family was saved.

On the drive back to Hopkinsville Tuesday, we remarked more than once that we were really glad that we had taken this trip. Both the Ark and the Creation Museum are fantastic theme parks, and both of us would love to return some day and see what we missed because there was a lot that we didn’t see. But what we did see deepened my understanding of the Bible and history, answered some questions and posed a few others. It really was an incredible experience.

Journey of a Different Kind

Ever since we bought our own RV lot here on Table Rock Lake a couple of years ago, our travels for the most part have been curtailed and limited to going to Texas in the winter and settling someplace there for a few months. We don’t gallivant like we used to–in the motorhome, anyway–and besides, it’s kind of hard to leave this beautiful place, what with the lake and all the activities and entertainment that define Branson. This is our seventh year of full-time RVing, and I’m finding that we’re wandering less and staying longer at places when we do. We are getting older.

Early into our stay in Rockport this past winter, I was divinely directed to go to the weekly Bible study at the park (I know, me!) partly, I guess, because I wanted to meet new people and partly because everything in this world is so upside down, I believe only God can straighten things out. I can barely believe that this is me writing these words. I’m the first to admit that something has come over me. What that something is exactly, I don’t know, but within the past three years, I have had a complete attitude shift regarding the Bible, prayer, and God.

I find this all very funny and quite interesting because I am not the Bible-study kind of person at all. I don’t even go to church. But something prompted me to participate in quite a few of those weekly sessions in Rockport, and I’ve got to admit, I rather enjoyed it. The group of more than a dozen people was welcoming, the leader was always prepared, and I learned some things.

When we arrived home in April, there weren’t that many RVs at the resort. Spring in the Ozarks can be unpredictable and snow isn’t unusual, so many owners wait until May to come back. But two acquaintances that I’d met last fall were already here, probably because snow isn’t an issue for them; oneā€™s from Minnesota and the other from Colorado. One afternoon we got together and talked about where we’d gone and what each of us had done during the winter, and had such a good time talking and sharing and connecting and laughing that before I knew it, we were talking about resurrecting the prayer group (the one where we’d originally met) that a friend started last fall. The group met about three times before everyone left for the winter, including the one who started the group. She was a workamper who’s since moved on to another opportunity, so our group was without a ringleader.

I’m sure by now you can guess what happened. Not only has the prayer group been resurrected, but I made an account for us on Zoom so that even when we travel, we can still “meet.” Because Iā€™m the one that signed up for the account, I am responsible for kicking off the meeting every week, no matter where I am. Godā€™s going to make sure Iā€™m there one way or another.

Weā€™ve had seven such gatherings since, and each week new people come, both in-person and online. God is truly orchestrating this because I sure don’t know what I’m doing and feel completely inadequate and unworthy. But each week on Tuesdays, He makes it happen. It’s really been something to witness and behold the way everything is unfolding and evolving. To be honest, I canā€™t believe it.

Such is the journey Iā€™m on today. Yes, there are actual road trips planned for the coming weeks, but it was important for me to write about now because this has been quite a trip, too. Iā€™m finding that itā€™s very possible to have an adventure without ever having to leave home.

Long time, no say

Life in general has kept me from writing for a few months. For a while I kept up with my daily gratitude blog, but even that fell into the cracks a couple of weeks ago. I recently happened upon an RV bloggers Facebook group that seemed worthwhile joining, and I’m grateful for that–it was just the sparkplug I needed and came at just the right time. It’s great to be back writing!

A big part of why I stopped writing was the experience of losing a beloved pet while traveling. It was an unspoken fear that I kept hidden in the back of my mind for at least a year or two, since both of our pups were seniors, such as ourselves. When someone would comment on the advanced ages of our pups, I’d say that we were just walking one another Home. It’s the truth; the older we get, well, the closer it gets to the inevitable.

Our pups, Biscuit and Victor

Biscuit was 14, a rescue, and a love. She loved everybody and assumed everyone loved her. And they did. She was Dave’s girl (his words, not mine) and he treated her royally. As in, cooking breakfast for her every morning and bestowing treats generously and unnecessarily. As for me, Biscuit was my walking buddy. When we workamped in Virginia, she and I hiked the trails every morning. She loved being off the leash and being able to investigate some new smell every once in a while and then race to catch up with me.

She came to us by way of someone, we think, who might have bred dogs for hunting. We’d been inside an antique shop in Fordyce, Arkansas when we heard commotion outside and went to investigate the matter. What we saw was a tiny pup wandeing around aimlessly in the street, apparently having been tossed out of a truck we saw driving away. There must be a way to determine if a dog will be a good hunter, and Biscuit must have failed the test miserably because she was definitely not a hunting dog. She did not like noise; even rain and especially thunder scared her. But she was the best pup.

While we were in Rockport, Texas this past winter, a lump we’d already had removed twice before had resurfaced. Dave talked about making an appointment with our vet in Arkansas when we got home, but I wasn’t keen about having her go through another surgery. Aside from the lump, her back legs often gave her trouble to where she couldnā€™t get herself up, so that was another matter. So often I’d have to pick all 40 pounds of her up and carry her outside to do her duty and then carry her back in. She’d been on pain meds for several years, but life had become a struggle anyway. Basically, Biscuit was fading quickly, and I silently wondered if she’d even make the trip back home. We were due to leave March 31st, a Friday.

That Monday found me outside cleaning outdoor items in preparation for storage and travel. Our neighbor across the street wandered over and, before I knew it, began telling me about having to put down his pup that very morning. I knew she’d been very sick and he’d been talking about euthanasia for at least a month. I just wasn’t prepared for it happening today. In his grief, my friend told me the exact process. The Rockport Veterinary Clinic was recommended to him, and from the sound of it, his experience was about as good as an experience like that could be. It impressed me that he said that the staff was sensitive and compassionate and that there was a nice, big field for pups to wander while they waited to be seen by the vet. After he left, I went inside for lunch and gave Dave the details. I didn’t know what he’d do with the information, but Biscuit was his dog and he needed to make the decision.

Much to my surprise, he called the veterinary clinic as soon as they re-opened after lunch and told them about Biscuit and that we had decided that we wanted to relieve her of her pain. Permanently. They said to come down and put Biscuit’s name on the list (they saw all their patients this way); the clinic operated on a first-come-first-served basis. Once there and on the wait list, we sat in silence in the car with Biscuit. Soon a vet tech came to the car and asked the necessary questions as sensitively as imaginable; what our neighbor had commented about the entire staff’s empathetic attitude was 100% true. The veterinary clinic was even able to cremate remains, so we picked out the urn we wanted for Biscuit. The ordeal was painful and painless at the same time. And surreal and emotionally draining. Then I took Biscuit outside so that she could lay in the cool grass. As I sat there with her I pondered our decision and knew in my heart it was the right thing to do…So why was it breaking?

After waiting about two-and-a-half hours, another tech came out to the car and said that it was time. Like so many times before, I hoisted Biscuit’s rear up so that she could stand and we slowly made our way to the building. It seemed to take a long time getting Biscuit to walk there, but the tech was understanding and said that it was ok, there was no rush. Once inside, she was weighed and we were ushered into a room. We didn’t have to wait long. The vet came in, introduced himself as Dr. Miller, and in a kind manner told us what would happen from then on: a sedative would be given first, and then the seizure medication, pentobarbital. This was one of the saddest days of my life, and yet the process of going through it was unfolding as perfectly as could be imagined. We stayed with Biscuit for several minutes after she passed, holding hands and just sobbing over her. The day had been so emotionally draining.

Late the next afternoon, we got a call saying that Biscuit’s remains were ready to be picked up. I was so happy! When we arrived there, we were treated as compassionately then as we were the day before, making the entire ordeal much easier to bear. We got to take Biscuit back home; she was in the urn we’d chosen with the puppy print on the lid. A sympathy card with Biscuit’s paw print was signed by the entire staff there. It was very touching. I can’t say enough good things about Rockport Veterinary Clinic. It certainly seemed that they had this particular process down to a science, and what a boon for travelers, of which there are many of us Winter Texans with senior pets.

The surrealness of this event lasted for days. We continued to prepare to leave, but our minds were clearly on Biscuit and ordinary procedures for departure were bungled. Like driving away with the electrical cord still connected to the post; that’s never happened to us in 18 years of RVing. In the three days it took us to drive home, we commented more than once that “Biscuit wouldn’t have liked this,” especially when we’d hit a pothole or when we encountered a thunderstorm in Durant, Oklahoma. Somehow, just talking about Biscuit soothed my aching heart. As does writing about her, Iā€™m finding out.

If ever we doubted our decision, it was confirmed while it still was raining in Durant that one afternoon. I was inside the motorhome when I noticed the sun shining brightly, in spite of the rain. I wondered if there might be a rainbow, and lo and behold: Not one, but two! I knew right then and there that Biscuit was running and playing and having a grand time just across the Rainbow Bridge.

Going Coastal

Is it really the end of January already??! Itā€™s hard to believe is that we’ve already reached the halfway point of our time in Texas. Seems like we just got here, ā€œhereā€ being Rockport, near Corpus Christi on the Gulf coast.

For the first winter in six years, we did not go back to Bandera, even though we really loved the town, the RV park we always stayed at, and especially the friends we made there. But I sense our traveling days are slowly winding down, and being such, this winter was a good time to do something different. There’s so much of this beautiful USA that we haven’t seen yet.

By the time we figured out that we wanted to return to Texas instead of Mississippi as we originally had planned, it was already September. When it comes to securing a site long-term, that’s considered ‘late.’ We really didnā€™t have a specific destination in mind. The main goal was to be warm. Rather than call one RV park after another to inquire about availability for the months of January, February and March, the hardest to get, I began by first calling the place I knew some friends had booked for the winter. It was near Rockport. I knew they’d gone from one park to the next, looking for just the right place. We figured, if it was good enough for them, it would be good enough for us.

As luck would have it, there was not only availability for all that time, but they could put us right next to our friends. I hoped that would be a pleasant surprise for them. Lee and Rose were our very first neighbors the first year we went to Bandera and, by and large, the four of us get along great. They are from Duluth, Minnesota, as are many of the people staying here. We really like the park they chose, and the longer we’re here, the more we like it, especially when we drive past other RV parks and compare. Wide, grassy spaces lie in between the sites, paved roads, and lots of oak trees characterize Drifters RV Resort. Itā€™s not too big. There are planned activities (dance lessons, games, Bible studies, ladiesā€™ luncheons). The location is great; itā€™s about the same distance to the ferry that takes goes to Port A (Port Aransas), the town of Aransas Pass, and Rockport. There’s a Dollar General within walking distance and one of the best hamburger joints in Texas right next door, according to Texas Monthly.

We spent a month in Rockport the winter of 2016, but even before that we were familiar with this area. We lived nearby, in Port Aransas, in 1994 when Dave worked at NAS Corpus Christi. We lived aboard our boat with our two kids, who were 10 and 12 at the time. There have been a lot of changes since then as anyone can imagine, but one thing hasn’t changed in all that time. The wind. And how it can blow incessently. All. Day. Long.

I will always remember the winter that year being the coldest Iā€™d ever been. The combination of damp, salty air and long, lingering gusts chilled one right down to the bone. So, it’s a good thing we knew what we were getting into when we decided to winter here, because it can be quite a surprise otherwise. There’s an old adage that goes something like,You can’t change the direction of the wind, but you can adjust your sails. Meaning, change what you can. Like your attitude. So I bought a new kite!

We brought our bikes with us, and when itā€™s warm and not real windy we load them on the bike rack and drive six miles to Rockport Beach. It’s a really nice one; in fact, it’s Texas’ first Blue Wave Beach. I thought about bringing my kayak, but I remembered how windy it gets here and had visions of being helplessly blown out to sea, leaving Dave with no way to retrieve me. While it might be kind of funny in a way and would certainly be interesting to write about, assuming I survived, I doubt it would be worth the risk.

One of the reasons we keep coming back to Texas is that all tourists, and particularly long-term visitors, are genuinely wanted and appreciated by the locals. It was like that in Bandera, and here it’s the same way. Earlier this month, the Rockport-Fulton Chamber of Commerce held a party for us winter Texans in recognition of the big boost we snowbirds give the local economy. There were freebies, food, raffles, prizes, entertainment, so you can just picture how packed the convention center was. Iā€™d not seen that many jolly old people in one place since we left Branson! It was a really nice show of appreciation.

Weā€™re finding out there is a price to be paid for being this close to the coast: Rust! We hadnā€™t been here two weeks when Dave noticed a couple of our our lawn chairs being eaten up by the salt air. He found something called Rust Reformer by Rustoleum that basically stops the rust from going farther. Removing the fabric from the frames was actually more time-consuming than brushing on the Rust Reformer, and once it was applied, it took longer than expected to dry. But it eventually did, and ended up looking quite decent. I wish I’d taken before-and-after photos, but I never think to take pictures of things that are ugly, like rust.

On the plus-side though, is that Dave’s sinuses are much happier here. He’s allergic to cedar trees, of which there are many in the Hill Country. So this is a very big ‘plus., and definitely worth considering when making future plans. People are much easier to be around when their heads aren’t about to explode.šŸ˜‰

Island Holiday

If we make it through December, everything’s gonna be alright, I know; it’s the coldest time of winter and I shiver when I see the falling snow. – Merle Haggard

Hello again~Happy Holidays & Merry Christmas wishes from South Padre Island, Texas! May peace, love, and happiness be yours this Christmas, as well as warmth, uninterrupted electricity, water pipes that donā€™t freeze up, and safe journeys wherever you may go.

We remained in the Ozarks longer than anticipated and didnā€™t head south until earlier this month. Since our winter reservations didnā€™t start until January 1st, we had almost four weeks to meander. I use the All Stays app to plan our trips, and I found something that looked appealing 750 miles away in Edna, Texas (southwest of Houston): Brackenridge Recreation Complex. It was near a lake and had several bike trails. What a find, and a real blessing to secure a 2-week stay, considering reservations weren’t made until the week after Thanksgiving!

Our campsite was one of the most spacious ones here, both in length (at least 70′) and lots of grass on either side, which the pups loved. Most of the other sites were 45ā€™ long. One of the bike trails ran right behind our site, and then Lake Texana was just beyond that. The campground is a wildlife preserve, and deer are everywhere. The campground is gated, and there is 24-hour security. Also there are 2-bedroom, lakeside cabins that may be rented, as well as The Main Event Center, where rodeos, festivals, fairs and auctions are held. The town of Edna is about 5 miles away, where there’s a nice, pedestrian-friendly town square and a few stores, including an older HEB. Victoria is about 30 miles away, and has everything, including Aldi (my most favorite grocery store) and lots of shops and restaurants.

Lakeside bike trail, one of several here & across the street at Texana Park (more campsites!)
Coded gate
The deer know they’re safe here.
Inside the Main Event Center, where a bull-judging contest was held the first weekend we were here.

From there we drove another 250 miles south to the Valley (Lower Rio Grande Valley) for a couple of days and visited some friends weā€™ve known since we first went to Bandera five years ago. Priscilla and I were walking buddies there, but I haven’t seen her for a couple of years. We’ve never explored that part of Texas, so we had no expectations and everything was new to us.

The first thing to catch my attention as we drove along the highway was palm trees, and lots of them.

Palm trees in the winter…a very welcome sight!

Seeing that part of the country was very eye-opening. I have never seen that many RV and mobile home parks concentrated in a relatively small area, many with hundreds of sites. Obviously, many, many winter Texans flock to the Rio Grande Valley, and it gave us something to consider for next year.

While we were there, our friends took us to Mexico by way of the U.S. border crossing at Progresso, less than 10 miles way. We were that far south. I didn’t take any photos since I didn’t have time to research how to use my iPhone camera in Mexico without incurring any weird charges. Next time I’ll be prepared.

What an experience! After parking the car in an enormous parking lot, we walked across the international border, and each paid $1 to immediately face a barrage of vendors peddling everything from dental services, pharmacias and chiropractic care to shoes, leather goods, jewelry and lots more. It was overwhelming to say the least.

Shopping at the pharmacia was a pleasant experience, though, and I was able to pick up some over the counter drugs that Iā€™ve heard are in short supplies in some places (Mucinex, etc.). Dave thought he might be able to pick up a bottled or two of his favorite liquor cheap, so we went hunting for that, but apparently tequila is the only thing there thatā€™s really a bargain. And there’s a lot of that! Still, the experience was really fun! Actually, we weren’t hassled at all while we shopped inside the stores; it was when we were outside that we were hawked by both vendors and young children peddling trinkets and Chicklets.

Outside, stalls were lined up one after another, every vendor vying for attention. I really didnā€™t need a thing, which was good because I donā€™t think I wouldā€™ve enjoyed being pressured to buy, and I canā€™t haggle. Itā€™s nice to be in a place in life where Iā€™m satisfied with what I have. I have enough. Actually, after seeing what I saw today, Iā€™m convinced I have more than enough.

After eating lunch at one of the restaurants there, already bustling with lots of business and tourists dancing to the live music at noon, we continued perusing a little while longer before heading back across the walkway. I was really grateful our friends took us thereā€”since theyā€™d been over several times and knew the drillā€”and for the experience itself. It’s been a highlight of our trip so far.

That brings us to yesterday, when we drove just 60 miles east to South Padre Island. Thank God. The wind was blowing steadily at 30 mph the entire time, including when we crossed the 2.5 mile long Queen Isabella Memorial Bridge–which was a terrifying experience for me, especially at the bridge’s highest point, where two lanes merged into one because of construction. The motorhome was just one, big sail and feeling the wind’s effects was nerve-wrecking. I was glad to get that part of the trip behind usl

This is another place we’ve never been, so we’re looking forward to the wind dying down and the temps warming up in a couple of days so that we can get out and explore. Iā€™m sure thereā€™s more to this month thatā€™ll be worth writing about. Until then, we are hunkered down!