Nineteen Days and Three Decades

It only took me 19 days to go 700 miles, camping in 7 different spots from 1 to 9 nights.  I guess from the looks of things, a mermaid has got to have water! From lakes  and rivers to oceans and islands too.  This was my much needed break and relocation between workamping assignments.

And a lot of things sure broke!

I averaged driving  a whopping 37 miles per day, of course I didn't drive every day either. Actually only drove 6 days, but  the way we stop every hour or so, I don't get far very long.  I like to be green and not burn gas every day. Let the world breath for a few days or weeks or months without my added exhaust.

Of course we all know I can be full of hot air too.

Oh how I wish Harley could drive. Of course we kept falling in love with nature and overstaying everywhere we went except one place that gave me the creeps, so we didn't stick around much, just long enough to nap, do some patching up.

It was nothing I could point at and put my finger on, but it was a bad feeling like something evil was lurking nearby. I glanced at the news, something I never do, and discovered a lot of frightening crimes in the general area. Yet we appeared to be a serene secure place.

Maybe  a devilish criminal was camping nearby sending out very bad vibes. Either way, we were glad to get out of there pretty quickly with very little sleep.

I have 3 days left to rest and repair, then I travel again to my new workamping spot, where my wheels will cool for a good long while, whether I like it or not.

I've decided I will like it.

Might as well be happy!

Lost?  Did I mention that between directions copied from google maps, a paper atlas book and a GPS, we managed to get lost, make wrong turns and sometimes change our mind altogether like a cat, rather than turn around and re-trace our tracks.

Cats always have supreme confidence. They can accidentally roll off the chair while napping, stand up and walk away in such a haughty manner as if they meant to depart the chair exactly that way.

So many things have broken.  I am just flabbergasted. The long boring list comes later.   I can't repair them all myself, so I best get busy selling books, subscriptions and wishes on a star to put my wheel estate back together again.

In other words, I will have to hire out some of the work and that is a frightening prospect, even worse, some of the repairs are semi-critical. Sheesh.

Maybe I need to trade in the dog for a live-in mechanic.

But I could never survive without my crazy little pooch.  We are so used to being around each other, that we miss each other when we are forced apart at the grocery stores. He has to wait in the RV while I shop. He doesn't understand this. Lately he has been complaining too. So I am retraining him to be quiet.

Stop singing Opera in the parking lot. 

Back to the break and breaking...  My little old motorhome is 18 years old and while it only has 54,000 miles on it, that's still 18 years of bouncing around. Something always giving up the ghost. Hopefully the repairs I've made and still to be made, will eventually overall lengthen my enjoyment of this beast called home.

Could you live in 150 square feet for 2-3 years?  I have thus far and it's wonderful!

I even blew out a sandal and the raccoon ran off with my pepper shaker. 

Hey, Jimmy Buffett, I got you topped (he blew out a flip flop and lost his salt shaker).

Not to mention the DNA I left all over the sidewalk that ate my knee. When a Good Samaritan was picking me up I said "What's so embarrassing .."  and he interrupted with "Oh, it's not embarrassing  it could happen to anybody."  I said well "What's so embarrassing  is I spent  a year in physical therapy learning to walk again, and it looks like I didn't learn much!"

I wasn't planning to hit Florida quite this soon, but the way things were breaking, falling off, mashing up, burning down, melting and shorting out, I figured I better get close to my workamping before I am a total wreck unable to make it at all.

Still there is 50 miles to go to workamp.

Said with fingers crossed!

I was spoiled rotten with perfect weather, right up until I hit Florida, the heat shot up again. I had planned to come in November, but since my workamping starts in October, well, I had to come sooner.

Poor doggy, he doesn't understand why I am so pooped and neither do I. But I am just wore out exhausted.

He was sound asleep and rolled right off the dining seat, landing in the floor, looking pathetic. He is not like a cat in that way at all. He laid in the floor looking gravely injured. I picked him up and loved on him.Told him he would be all right, made the kissy sound, rubbed his fur gently, hugged him, cuddled and comforted him while he looked so sad.

He needs lots of love after a boo-boo.

The other day he ran ahead of the bouncing golf ball and oops, it hit him in the ribs.  He just froze in place, hung his tail between his legs and looked terrified. I had to run over, scoop him up, let him know, it was a boo-boo and not mistreatment. That required lots of reassurance. These little dogs are delicate. He is rambunctious at times but he was just racing the ball and it bit him. Poor thing, he might have a big bruise or be sore from that. He hasn't played much golf since.

Maybe we will switch to soccer.

This was an economy trip, our sightseeing adventure was avoiding the interstates as much as possible, soaking up the views as we puttered down country roads.  Then once I hit the campground, we toured all we could on foot and paw. We ate out of the rolling kitchen.  Our souvenir shopping was stopping at a few known eclectic bargain stores to pick up various food and household supply items en route.

I keep forgetting it's not a boat sailing to exotic islands where no provisions are available but it's semi true, because I do look for far flung beauty off the beaten path.

Now I am on the St Johns River, on land, looking out at a large river where I once sailed. Three decades ago.