Cultural Tornado

Pellicer Creek, Florida
A Designated State Canoe Trail

I look at this park bench and I just want to stretch out on it to rest awhile.

It's the weekend so my little bark ranger and I have been ultra busy doing our workamping duties. We work, rest, work, rest, work, rest...  my stamina is erratic, but I am fueled by caffeine on all the rest breaks.

Every weekend we are booked solid in the campground.  Soon the weeks will be full too. This weekend brought a cultural group that rented 18 spots, plus the other 12 were full of families and couples.  The group cooked up a mountain of foods that left me hauling four truck loads of garbage on Sunday alone. Saturday I hauled only three.

I poked and prodded the dumpster with a shovel, trying to get it all inside. I thought about jumping up and down on the dumpster lid to try to cram it all in. I surely hope the garbage company comes for it soon, I don't think I can fit one more paper plate inside of it.

The women's restroom survived the ordeal with very little mess but overnight  the men's restroom looked worse than a tornado strike. The place looked great last evening when I checked it, then  8 hours later, it was a disaster zone.   I started with a shovel and the  dump truck, then finished with a power wash.  Order was more or less restored.

Left behind was spare change, two skewers (eating in the shower?) a bath towel, a cloth shopping bag and an explosion of wet paper towels. It appears that a lot of men forgot their bath towels and used a plethora of paper towels to dry themselves with, then littered the floor from one end to the other, bypassing the garbage can entirely. (It was there just for decor?)  Most weekends have been pretty tame, but this was incredible.

Harley is peeved that I am so pooped.  He wants to play, finding the multiple trips to the dumpster to be a tad boring. Waiting for me while I work, is also making him lonesome, even though he is tethered nearby. Usually he loves the ride to the dumpster, but today he looks so sad. Every hour I have stopped for a coffee break to keep the energy going.

To say I am pooped is a gross understatement.

A tiny 4 month old poodle was camping here, but her over-protective parents wouldn't let her paws touch the ground for more than 3 seconds.  Harley become totally smitten in that brief encounter. When they snatched their precious baby back up, Harley was crestfallen.  He was gentle as a lamb, wagging his tail furiously, so excited to see the little baby poodle. He was begging with a funny little whine "hmmm hum hum hmmm" for them to put the baby back down for him to play with, but they refused. Even the baby poodle seemed confused.

Poor Harley. Poor baby. She wanted to snuggle right up to him, but her parents acted terrified. Later they "walked" the baby by carrying her around the campground. But I know the feeling. I had to carry Harley around for days, when I first adopted him,  before he would walk on a leash and harness.  He was five months old, but had never been on a leash. I would put him down, he would water a bush, then fall over and cry until I picked him back up again. One day after he watered a bush, he saw a squirrel and ran after it while I ran with the other end of the leash in my hand.

Harley realized at that point exactly what a leash was for.

A leash is used to drag your pet parent around, showing them where you want to go.

That was then, this is now.

Earlier on a walk through the campground, Harley made buddies with two huge dogs that were camping with a nice family.  The black Lab was ready to play with him while the German Shepherd slowly wagged his tail while giving him skeptical looks as if to say "What is THAT?"  He sniffed Harley's sweater over seemingly bewildered. The Lab knew Harley was a dog, but the German Shepherd wasn't so sure.

On our last walk, Harley noticed that all the dogs, big and small,  had left for parts unknown and he seemed even sadder.

Tomorrow we will have time for multiple walks and puppy play but for today I have to shed this body condom then scrub and sterilize myself and puppy.

I keep on  smiling but I'd rather pass right out.

If they fired me today I would thank them profusely, drive out of here and never look back.

But wait... you can't fire a slave.

Oops.

How easily I forget!  I am not a slave, I am a volunteer.  (Same work. Fancy name.)

But hey, it pays the rent and sometimes you just gotta do whatever it takes to make ends meet.  It works something like this... I volunteer to help out in the campground and there is no pay for volunteers. But there are volunteer perks.  The main one being, I get to park my wheel estate and plug into power, water and sewer. I love my campsite and the remote setting amongst nature is right up my alley.

My little bark ranger goes to work  oops I mean volunteer with me, a huge comfort for me, and most days, a thrill for him.

Well, I've decided I need to rest up, I can't lift a finger to even make dinner. So I am sitting here staring off into space...

At lunch, I chopped up a huge papaya someone gave me a few days back, but it wasn't ripe yet. They didn't know what it was, their neighbor had given  them two  and they asked me if I knew what they were. I was explaining to them the wonderful benefits of papaya, how to tell when it would be perfect for eating,  when they asked me if I wanted them both, but I took only one. Now I wish I had been greedy and  taken them both, because this one ripened beautifully.  It was so super sweet and delicious. I devoured half of it and called it lunch. Yummy!

Life is good.

Food in the tummy and a place to lay my head. I feel positively spoiled!