TaWanda!

The Road to Trinity Lake KOA

Vagabond, gypsy, wanderer, we’ve been called many things but truthfully we just have the coolest job ever! Our latest destination is Lake Trinity KOA in Trinity Center, California. The Californian Alps… like Shasta, and Lassen baby! I’ve been so excited since it was offered to me that I was almost afraid to commit it to paper. I have a “two day” rule that kind of follows me around. Some people have a ten second rule for eat cookies off the floor… I have a two day KOA rule that changes the location of where I am going next… it goes like this… if the big cheese or the bigger cheese offers me a location, I say “great!” Then I wait two days before I repeat this knowledge to anyone else. No news? Great! Start making arrangements… but don’t get too comfy, cuz there is another two day window just prior to departure. All Cheeses reserve the right to change their mind.

I feel safe to publish my excitement for Trinity Lake KOA since I have passed both sides of the “two” day KOA rule… and on top of that I am only “two” days away from arriving in said locale, we are more than “two” thirds of the way across the country. GREAT!

The journey to Trinity is paved with I-10 this time of year. Each time we pondered a more northern route, the forecast of snow quickly changes our mind. Alas, we have stayed on I-10.

Did you know it takes 2 days to get out of Florida? After that Alabama and Mississippi fly by and you end you in Louisiana.   Louisiana’s cajun food, bayou music, and an infectious zest for life have always called out to me… but is it not to be on this trip… Texas looms large on the horizon.
Texas is wide… really wide… like three days wide going from east to west via I-10. Thankfully we had a stopover at Lake Conroe KOA and broke bread with some KOA Kompadres. It’s always great to see a friendly face along the road.   Thanks!
Then we had a bit of rig trouble… which put us on a beeline for Phoenix where we had an appointment for repairs. Wanting to get somewhere fast doesn’t get you there fast… nor does it give you the luxury of planning our timing. We hit rush hour in Houston, San Antonio, and El Paso… just lovely.

We spent a night at a scary roadside motel/campground in nowheresville. I can’t believe we didn’t take pictures… lol. They put us next to (inches) the building, we could only put one slide out, our door opened up to a view inside the dumpster, and they charged us $45.    Ruth said she could see the “I Love KOA” mantra circling my head. In the morning our host offered to lift the electric lines with a pole for us to pull out. We opted to back all the way out to the street rather than risk electrocution. We didn’t notice until later that stuff was stolen out of the back of our truck.

Happy to cross into New Mexico is a slight understatement. We counted down the last 10 mile-markers of Texas, hooted and hollered and kissed the dogs… the only thing missing was “auld lang syne” on the radio.

For everything that didn’t feel right about Texas this time, New Mexico did. Ruth feels a kinship to the Red rock and the mountain buttes. Me? Well, I am amused by the rest stop signs. I know weird right? Somewhere in this area, they start to warn you for snakes and scorpions… great! I have to admit to Ruth that it is some beautiful country. .. perhaps someday… I ponder as I fall asleep all safe and cozy at my Las Cruses KOA.

Until next time... Peace, Luv, and Sweet Dreams,

barbie

Sea Turtle!

Dry Tortugas National Park

The Tortugas, Spanish for turtles, is a cluster of seven islands… overgrown mangroves on coral reefs really… The isles, like its transient pirate inhabitant, have little integrity yet hoards of treasure hidden just under the surface.

It is an isolated outpost more than 70 nautical miles off the coast of Key West home to pirates, explorers, soldiers, immigrants, prisoners, and now researchers and tourists. It is accessible only by boat or seaplane.

We wish we had taken the later after our voyage out. The swells were wide and deep and the hour and a half trip was stretched into to three. I was starting to dread my decision to take this trip. Luckily the crew was quick to assist those in need. By the time we spotted the fortress on the horizon the entertaining snorkeling instructions and video had turned our attention to coral reefs, rare birds, and tropical fish.

Some opted to tour Fort Jefferson, while others of us headed straight for the beach and to snorkel the coral reefs. Unfortunately the previous days’ storm and the winds kept the waters murky and the fish hidden from view… not to mention that the water temperature was a wee bit chilly for my thin Florida blood. The birders were quite happy. Over 70 species of bird were identified including two from Cuba. No passport required.

Fort Jefferson and its moat all but covers the island but for a small strip of beach, the boat dock, and room for less than a dozen primitive campsites.

Can you imagine the starry constellations at night? I think I would be too excited to sleep.

All in all a good day and another National Park checked off my bucket list!

PS. Key West was fun too.

Everglades... a subtle beauty

The Florida Everglades are in the beautiful category… albeit it a subtle beauty… a beauty that is often left behind. It doesn’t have the sweeping beauty of palm trees, white sandy beaches, or tropical hibiscus blooming. You have to look more closely. I knew this already. I came looking for textures and the lighting.

Most visitors are attracted by its reputation rather than its good looks. The attraction is its danger. It has alligators, venomous snakes, and panthers. Of course the Ibis and Herons are really cool too but it is truly the gators and crocks that most people come to see.

They get what they came for… and I got and unexpected treat.

The treat was audible. The everglades began to chatter. Really! As we walked the dogs down the path the clucking, chirping and squawks rose in the air. It seemed to roll over the dense flora fauna that had become a natural border between the everglade wilderness and the safe harbor of our campground.

A rather large number of birds began to hold court. I imagine them discussing the day’s events. It must have been an eventful day. It was loud... but sweet. For me it was amazingly soothing. It was more like a collective song. Perhaps it was a concert… Even our dogs ignored them and went about their business. We continued our stroll down the perimeter path and the aviary caucus faded off behind us.

30 minutes later we had circled around to the same spot but the symphony was in repose. A few stray conversations popping up here and there. But for the most part matters of state were settled, chorus was over, and the birds had retired for the evening.

It was an amazing brief moment of beauty.

Peace, Luv, and Song Birds,

barbie, ruth, stella, and brando

I Believe

This time of year is my favorite. I am eager and anxious to greet the winter holiday.

Even though… I overhear many an unrepented Scrooge “bah humbug” the season; and why not I suppose… It’s the one holiday that we start counting down the days to before the embers of the previous Yule log have waned. It is over commercialized, over materialized and satirized.

Of course this is not a 21^st century invention, we just perfected its abuse. Christians turned the Roman’s pagan holiday of Saturnalia into Christmas in the name of a higher conversion rate… and Nicholas was just nice benevolent old man with a fine reputation that continued to grow until we turned him into a Macy’s marketing plan. Blah, blah, blah…

Yet, I eagerly await its and his arrival because I believe...

I believe in the kindness and generosity that Christmas seems to elicit.

I believe in the aroma of kinship rising from the dinner table.

I believe in the laughter that escapes out the door as another friend arrives to join the frivolities and twinkly lights reflecting hope in the snow…or in my case sand.

I believe… and I hope… that I can find a way to keep it in my heart all year.

Peace, Luv, and Holidays,

barbie

The Procrastination Pod

Last week I was sorting again… seems like I am always sorting out something. Paring down, thinning out… does one’s life really need to be so organized? I suppose it does when you travel light. This should really be the last of it (says my left brain) oh no it’s not (says my right brain). Sorting is a lifelong process...

The storage box was in the yard when we arrived last night. In the dark the 6 by 10 box loomed large… burdeness… foreshadowing the emotional choices yet to be made. There is no putting it off. Both finances and schedule required me to address… “the procrastination pod.”

We save/store for many reasons. In the procrastination pod goes our unwillingness to decide, our refusal to accept, our unrequited amour for the inanimate objects representing animated moments. I will need this… later. I need to keep this. I’ll fit into that after… I can’t let go of… blah, blah, blah, and we stuff it all in the pod postponing the decision for another day.

The Procrastination Pod” for some is arduous. Some people meticulously sort and select items to for retention while for others, no sorting is required… if it fits - it stores. Regardless of your personal process, in the end, the door swings closed, the lock clicks, and the precious along with the not so precious cargo is driven off to an undisclosed local. In my imagination it is delivered to a happy little subdivision with many other pods that all look the same. Somewhere just past Timbuktu and around the corner the Isle of Misfits. I could go on and on but that’s another blog entirely...

Anyway…

Somewhere down the road another day arrives bringing the procrastination pod with it. The prodigal pod has been returned. My initial reaction upon seeing it was anxious excitement for all the good stuff I must have kept... followed by, emotional in trepidation, a little resignation for the task at hand, and finally excitement again.

It took me the entire next day to go through, sort, divide, and conquer. Time eases many things, including decisions. I kinda felt like I was in a reality show. Somewhere between “Clean House”, “Cash in the Attic”, and “This is Your Life”…my own personal Twilight Zone.

Due to previously commitments for Ruth, my task was a solitary one. I really didn’t mind other than it meant revisiting some boxes that were not mine to sort. I shed a few tears over a few photographs of people I miss… living and passed. Prompting me to make phone calls to those I could. Just chatting with some and actually making plans with others. Was it yet another delay tactic? It is hard to tell.

I also found myself laughing. Really laughing… Picture it: I was sitting on the front porch floor with a corrugated landscape of cardboard in all directions. I was reading greeting cards that we had sent to each other (almost weekly back then) when our hearts overflowed with the mere site of each other. One tickled me, I threw my head back in laughter and hit my head on a box top mountain. I was jolted back to the present. I quickly surveyed the land beyond my nook to insure I was still alone. “Was I talking to myself? Was I talking out loud? The coast was clear. Feeling secure in the knowledge that I was still alone I recovered my self-abandon and delved back to my nostalgic reality show. I continued through the day without too many commercial breaks/message from my sponsors.

Eventually, my “Procrastination Pod” show had to come to an end; door shut for the last time, empty, hollow, and ready to be returned to once it came. I envision it on stand-by waiting to be delivered to someone else. Ready to be neatly stacked with crates of someone else’s deferred decisions… Piled with someone else’s reality show in the making. Opening date: tba,

Peace, Luv, and Sorting,

barbie

Significant Scribblings Before Dawn…

How do we know what we are destine for? How do we know what Greatness we can achieve? I don’t… how can we? says the voice inside my head. But don’t tell that to my heart. My heart tells me I have something inside me that is bursting to get out. It always has. Perhaps “greatness” is not the right word. Greatness is a big word. Greatness to me sounds monumental, too big. I think Significant is more likely the word I am looking for. Significant has enough consideration but feels more singular, more personally noteworthy with enough room to color outside the lines.

When I was a kid. I would dream of ideas, or stories, or little vignettes. I would tell some to my best friend, some I wrote down, but mostly they lived in my head. They still do actually…

I imagine a village of short stories, blogs, and poems. Tome Alley has cats and rats feasting on overstuffed trash cans of discarded concepts. Lanes with lawns to sprawl out on or picnic or write my painted pony. And if you know me, you know that my village has gardens full of unruly misspellings and dangling prepositions poking their heads through picket fences.

That neighborhood is sometimes forgotten. Adulthood can do that. We race through childhood, where kids rule and imagination is Queen of Prose and Poetry. Followed by adolescences, where I was absolutely convinced everything drama around me was the end of the world and/or the next best seller. And then adulthood, where most of us move to the suburbs of our brains… the neighborhood where we rewrite ourselves right into middle age mediocrity with perfectly paved walkways of reason without rhyme. Copy cats nibble on excessive punctuation, and of course the verge is neatly trimmed of its fragmented sentences.

But I feel lucky. I wonder back occasionally. If just for a few moments before dawn, I take a stroll through the old streets. And to my delight if no one else’s, I drown myself in an excess of alliteration and hyperbole. This blog is just such a wondering.

And who knows? A significant scribbling could be just around the corner.