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Being 70 Years Old

Being 70 Years Old

Wow! I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. I am the same me as I’ve always been. I do have more aches and pains as time passes, but I’m essentially the same on the inside. I can see myself at seven years old sitting on a pile of gravel, my knobby knees and long skinny legs on either side of a cement block – my grinding table. With a tiny cardboard box that might have held a necklace or bracelet long ago, and a flat stone for grinding, I spent the summer turning small granular, sparkly stones into “gold dust”. I was going to grind enough little stones to fill my sandbox. I didn’t get enough dust to fill the little box, much less a sandbox. That didn’t really matter. It didn’t upset me or make me give up. It was the doing of the thing that made me feel so great. So focused. My family life was a disaster, but while I sat on that pile of stones, nothing else existed.

Page from my Journal, entitled “Travels With Einstein (and a really big printer)”

I turned sixty a month after my mom passed away. I was an orphan. It was something that hit me on the head. I don’t know if a realization hitting one on the head can do brain damage, but I’ve never been the same since. I’m not damaged, but most assuredly I’m different. It was as if I woke from a deep sleep. Maybe you’ve heard the expression “I’ve had a day”. For me it was “I’ve had a decade”. I saw some things I didn’t want to see and had to face some things I didn’t want to face. And here I am. Seventy.

For the past three or four years I’ve thought I couldn’t do art anymore. Not that I didn’t want to. I just felt like whatever ability I’d had was absolutely, positively gone. Wrung out of me like dish water out of a rag. Art was my purpose. Losing my ability to do art meant I’d lost my purpose. According to Victor Frankl, in his book Man’s Search For Meaning, those who have no purpose, no meaning, die. And so I was prepared to die.

But Then!

Tonight I watched a couple of videos on YouTube about not being able to paint and on not being able to finish a painting/creation. It was quite a wake-up call for me. One person spoke of the inability to paint as being part of a story – the story of your life. She called her viewers/followers to think about what the plot for their life might be. Hm. I had to think about that. In fact, I’m still thinking about it. I want to figure it out, because the fact that she described it all so very well made me want to understand and benefit from her words. She spoke of how we are the heroine and perhaps the protagonist at the same time. She talked about the parts of all stories. There must be a conflict phase. Perhaps when an artist thinks they can no longer paint it’s just the conflict part of their story. She went on to say that characters do the most growing during the conflict. I felt a spark of hope at that.

I realize that I’m mixing tenses in my story here. This tiny little bit of story. I don’t care. It’s mine to tell and I’m renting this bit of internet space to tell it. Leave a comment if it bothers you more than necessary.

Okay. I’m in the conflict phase of my life. I’ve been divorced four years and its been four years of relief, total abandon (in a good way), going into debt (not a good thing), making good decisions and bad decisions, all of which may well be necessary in the larger picture. As my very good friend, Terri, just told me, if all the recent bad stuff hadn’t happened, we never would have met. More about that later.

The second video

Talked of giving up on art/writing/etc. Many famous people gave up on projects. DaVinci, for example. Mozart. The Greats! Not all things get finished. Selling one’s work validates the creative. What, of ourselves, we put into our work is what people spend their hard earned money to purchase. That feels good. Something you say with paint or words or music and the way you say it strikes a chord with the purchaser. They’ll hang that story on their wall for a long time, hopefully. When our work doesn’t sell, it fills us with doubt. For me, it was the act of deciding to return to traveling about in a camper, wanting to live a simpler and less expensive life. There would be no room for all of my unsold, but much loved works of art and I wasn’t going to rent a storage unit and have them bake to death in there. So I unframed them all, stuffed them into a leather portfolio, and threw the frames into the dumpster. From then on, I would confine my work to small projects that could endure in a camper and probably never be seen by anyone but me.

The man in the video said the first part of our life is outward, when we’re focusing on jobs, growing our lives and having families. The second part is the inward part, when we focus on ourselves.

Reflections of Life

In the newest video in the “Reflections of Life” series, on YouTube, the man being interviewed said that when you’re alone, doing things alone, your critical voice is louder. So true! “AMEN!” I wanted to shout. In the last couple of centuries, civilization has taken upon itself, change at a ludicrous speed. We went from the pony express to mail sent by jet. Perhaps soon, it’ll be mail sent by spacecraft or teleporter. Civilization is hurtling towards a precipice with no slowing down. Maybe all that change is bad, but maybe it’s good. We won’t know until we fling ourselves over the edge.

The past three years have given me pause. Time to reflect, to be mindful of the moments instead of the days. I’ve had lots of time to do so. My life in a small camper was nothing like life in a 6,000 square foot log home. I could clean my entire dwelling in minutes. I had everything I owned with me in that little space. If I bought something new, something else had to go. No alarm clock was needed. Dinner could be eaten at any hour. My path was like the path of an ant on fine dirt. All criss-crossing and seeming destination-less. Folks came and went in my life – sometimes for a day, sometimes for a season. It was a season and a day made up of moments. Moments lived and experienced slowly and deliciously. It was like getting to eat fine French pastries for every meal.

And then the bad thing happened!

That something happened in late October 2024 and nothing has been the same since. That’s a story for another day. The only thing that matters is where I am now. I’m seventy and I’m still me, but my feet are on a path I didn’t foresee. We shall see.

Introvert Me

Introvert Me

I may not speak, but I’m listening and seeing.  I hear all that the people around me are saying.  Discussing.  I see their laughter and how they can smile and talk at the same time.  I hear their words.  I see them on their faces and in their hearts and I’m happy for them.  I admire how easily words come to them.  How quickly.  I admire their wit.  For me the words and the wit will come when the room is empty or perhaps by morning, too late, for now there’s no one to listen.  It’s okay.

The ones who take the time to get to know me will experience them, because they know me and understand.  They’ll wait.  They’ll check in.  They’ll give me their words in their time and I’ll give them mine when I can.

I can’t always speak at the moment I need to, because my brain doesn’t work like that.  I drink in moments with all of my senses. If I speak my thoughts, will it add or subtract from this moment?  I’m not putting words to those questions.  They’re just there, in the background.  It’s as if my words, at the moment, are in a language I haven’t yet learned and I’m trying to find them and assemble them before the moment has passed and it’s too late.  For me it is often too late.

I am an introvert, but I love people.  Crowds and noisy places overwhelm me.  If I had some quiet time before hand, I’m okay, because I need people and I have to go out into the world to find them.  I need conversation.  Not the kind that’s like a stone skipping across a pond, with each skip a new topic. I love conversation that explores and dives in, daring to reveal experienced emotions and revelations.

Even though I’m content with my solitude, I recognize the joy of spending time with another human being.  As someone who is slow to speak and slow to judge, still I do speak.  I can converse.  But I must feel safe and heard.  Still, I’m okay with just sitting quietly and listening.

If I’m spending time with you and the words are flowing from me freely, it’s because I trust you. This is something that takes time. Congratulations. You did what few have done.

I need people, but one at a time is best.  For me, there is nothing finer.  Time with a friend is more precious to me than gold or gems.  Such moments are treasures and are tucked away in my heart for a long time.  Even introverts can become profoundly lonely.

Meow

January 30th, 2023 – in an RV

January 30th, 2023 – in an RV

This journey of mine has been full of surprises. It began as a way to save money and to spend time with family and friends, yet have my own little house with me all the time. Not long after I started (all of last March ago – LOL) I discovered gas prices are big numbers. My first couple of fill-ups were $5.25 a gallon and $6.25 a gallon. Oh my! How could I justify living on the road, stopping at a campground for a month maybe, staying in the desert for a couple weeks, staying in a driveway, and making the trip from one place to the another…on my budget?

Campgrounds

My first campground was pretty reasonable. No problem, I thought. However, I soon discovered that, in general, they’ve gone way up in price. In places that are great for winter, the prices for a campsite are as much as a luxury apartment. Places that have great prices are remote and have no internet. Sometimes that’s okay, but I’m still very much in need of internet. Even with two hot spots of my own through AT&T and T-Mobile I still had no internet. Anyways, my new life was just full of such surprises.

The Good News!

I have figured things out pretty well. I got myself into a diesel gas program that gives me nice discounts across the country. I joined organizations that help me get discounts on campsites (maybe not enough to stay at a $1,600 a month campground). I’ve found some great campgrounds along the way. I’ve been treated super well at each and every one.

Being Flexible

I’ve discovered that I need to stay at most places longer than I expected. No more moving about the country with short stops in between. The longer stays at campgrounds have more reasonable prices.

Best of All

…is my discovery that there are a few lonely days, but that’s my own fault. I knew that you have to be a friend to make a friend. I felt I was making my best effort to be friendly. I didn’t exactly offer the cashier at the grocery store my phone number, but its almost that easy. At the campground I’m at for the winter, I’m a volunteer in the activity office. What better way to encounter people. Lots of people come in each day, signing up for events and classes. They come in to ask questions about getting propane, having something printed out, where to eat or get a haircut. I’ve met so many great people.

The other thing I do is help out at the events. I might seat people for a concert, sell drinks at the rodeo or a dance, or deliver flyers to the mail room.

I love attending events and hearing people call out my name in greeting.

Even though I keep bills paid and administrative issues attended to, I pretty much live in the moment.

My first winter without winter – ARIZONA!

My first winter without winter – ARIZONA!

Today is December 8th, 2022. The year is waning. My tiny home on wheels smells like coffee brewing. In fact, it just gurgled that its ready to be sipped and savored. The view outside the window over my desk is a foggy one. It surprised me, because I’ve never actually seen fog in Arizona. Technology promises that the temp will be 73 and the clouds and fog will dissipate, leaving me the blue skies I came here for.

This RV park is actually called a resort. Its owned by the Cocopah Indian tribe and is surrounded by very flat, irrigated fields that produce a good portion of the vegetables for the U.S. Much of the resort is made up of “park models”, which are tiny homes that fit in an RV space, but the folks who purchase the park models add on rooms, porches, decks, carports, and/or patios. I’ve been in some of them and they’re comfortable and homey. Before coming here I would never have thought I’d like or want something like that, but one of these, sure. I don’t say that only because they’re nice. Its also a place where you make many friends and have plenty of things to do. Also, the local internet provider has every site pre-wired for internet. I did have to subscribe to use it, but the cost is only $50 a month.

In a few minutes I have to be at work. I volunteer at the Activity Office on Monday mornings and Thursday afternoons. I sit on a stool at the front desk, selling tickets and answering questions of guests. When needed, I make posters for upcoming events. This place is unique, compared to all over RV parks I’ve ever been. There’s an eighteen hole golf course woven into the layout of this campground.

This is my first Christmas in the southwest. The folks here are very much in the spirit of it. The buildings are decorated. RVs and park models are decorated. I love it. There’s a window over my desk, here in my RV. I can look out and see folks going for walks, stopping to talk, riding by in golf carts, heading to the golf course on foot or in their cart. I’ve seen people riding bikes, pulling their golf clubs nestled in a buggy-type pull-behind.

The resort is surrounded by lush green irrigated or misted fields where a large portion of the countries produce comes from.

The RV sites are large here. My little travel trailer looks like a shed compared to other RVs. I know, however, that inside its a castle. My friends have lent me a golf cart for my first weeks here. I love that it matches my little travel trailer.

The winter weather here is wonderful. This is my new favorite place to be for this time of year. In previous locations I found myself snuggling down indoors for the snow and cold, seldom going anywhere or doing many activities that required driving somewhere. I’ve met people everywhere I travel who love that, however. It makes me glad the our world is made up of people of all kinds. Makes for an interesting live for all.

Something I love here are the sunrises and sunsets. So I will close this very favorable-for-Cocopah post with some of the sunrises and sunsets I’ve seen thus far.

Cocopah Golf Course being watered at sunset
Silhouettes at sunset
Sunrise from my window
Sunset from a nearby restaurant
My Own Kind

My Own Kind

…and what does that look like?

When I lived in Southern Maryland, my life was filled with creative people. Artists, photographers, poets, musicians, writers, and actors. Occasionally I got to play board games and cards. I taught. I learned. I built.

Things happened.

Now I live in a little travel trailer. A camper. Everything I own is here in this space. Oddly enough, its amazing how much room a small space makes in my life. Room for more free time. Room for creativity. It keeps my eyes open for adventure, for breath-taking moments and scenes. I encounter others like myself.

Wanderlust. I have it. I get restless after being stationary for a while. The artist in me yearns for, even craves, new scenes, new experiences, and most of all, my own kind. I’m not into physically challenging experiences. I did zip lining. Glass blowing. Scuba. Hiking in Hawaii. Skiing in Europe. But, at my age, I no longer have the strength to do those things. Its okay.

My Own Kind

Sometimes that would be other creative folks. Sometimes its for other people who live full time in an RV. If I’m lucky, its both together.

Two and a half years ago I visited a campground in the southwest. Its called the LoW Hi Ranch and the LoW stands for loners on wheels. Not all the guests are alone, but nearly all who stay more than a few days are exactly that, if you don’t count dogs and cats. I was there one night and I saw something great. The people were friendly and they cared about one another. Someone in the site next to me asked how long I’d be staying. “Just the one night,” I replied, but I wished it were longer.

It took a long time, a lot of patience and planning, but I’m at that campground once again and this time I get to stay longer. The first day I was hot and tired, after a very long journey to get here. The next few days I doubted my decision, because I felt like an outsider. Then I began attending some of the activities. First a social gathering in the “leisure room”. Then, while sitting outside in the late afternoon, when my camper casts a shadow long enough to keep me in shade, a woman near me said hello and stopped to talk. We ended up sitting together for a long while. Since then I’ve met more and more of the people here and I’m falling in love with this place. Without being perfect or having to prove myself worthy, I fit here. I’ve found my own kind.

Perhaps part of the greatness of the place is the compromising I’m having to do with myself. The pace is slower. For the first time in a long while, I’m not working at a part time or seasonal job. I have more time. However, I have less cell signal with my phone, which means I have less WiFi, as my hotspot device is cell-based. My television is a Roku TV and needs WiFi/Cell. Its a day of celebration when I can watch a portion of an episode of Star Trek Voyager (my favorite right now – I’m binge watching it). With more time on my hands and less of my usual things to do with that time, I’m finding myself looking around more, thinking more, reading, journaling, sketching, cooking. Imagine the possibilities of more time. The transition was painful at first, but each day is a little better. Some days are a lot better. Yesterday I helped with road clean up (the campground sponsors a two mile stretch of road), went out to breakfast with the others on the crew, took a nap, met a new fellow nomad, took another nap, played some Heroes of the Storm, and went out to dinner with two women from here. We had the best french onion soup on the planet. I tried a beer. Oddly enough, it was a local beer and was called Happy Camper, an IPA. When I returned to my camper, I sat basking in the moment, for it was a moment of appreciation and satisfaction.

Also, I’m in the middle of nowhere. I’m surrounded by desert and mountains that seem plopped down here like game pieces on a board. Between them, the land is flat as can be. Some vegetation I recognize, but others seem like other-worldly or other-dimensionly things. The sky seems so much bigger, the horizon being uninterrupted by hills and forests. The color of said sky seems bluer. Perhaps its due to the brownish gray land.

And then there’s Sophia

Watching soap bubbles pop in a pan down in the sink

Sweet Sophia has adapted to this life of ours so well. She doth protest a smidge on travel days. A mew here, a yeow there. Overall, she handles it well. Life inside the RV is where she excels. Sophia is athletic. When we play, she can leap and spin better than a dolphin performing in a show. Okay. Kind of. She surprises me every day. There is a route she prefers to take. She leaps from the desk to the kitchen counter extension (a piece of counter top that folds up to add work space) to the bed. Another path is from the floor to the toilet to the top of her litter box, to the bathroom counter. If you blink, you might think she instantly ported herself from lowest to highest.

To aid Sophia’s gymnastic climbs, I made her a shelf. It allows her the best view of outdoors and maximum warming time in the sun.

Things to do

Mondays we have a potluck meal together. Tuesdays a group carpools about thirty miles south and crosses the border into Mexico to have lunch and do some shopping at a place called the Pink Store. Whew! What an adventure. Thursdays we have another carpool to a local restaurant (varies week to week which restaurant). This week it was to a really good place for delicious Mexican food. As mentioned earlier, on Saturday we had road pickup and that was actually a good experience. It was followed by breakfast at Denny’s. Many evenings each week, we have card games at the bunkhouse.

The Bunkhouse

I think the bunkhouse is my favorite place at the campground. This small structure is called the bunkhouse because it was actually a bunkhouse in the town of Columbus. That’s the last town before the border of Mexico and its the place Poncho Villa and 600 of his troops attacked in 1916. The campground’s bunkhouse comes from that location and was brought here to be used as our library (which is quite nice – the best I’ve ever seen in a campground) and card playing location.

I guess that’s it for now. I just want to say that the wait was worth it. I’ve fallen in love with this campground and its wonderful people.

Alone in a Crowd

Alone in a Crowd

You can be in the midst of a crowd and yet still be alone.

I’ve struggled with the writing of this post. Perhaps I’m over thinking it. But maybe its very important to me, so I’m searching for the right words to relay the story. Or maybe I’m just more visual and words elude me. Don’t know.

My travel trailer travels. Its meant to go places and its like a gigantic suitcase. Everything I need is inside. In fact, everything I own is in my RV and my truck. This is my way of being a homeowner. A very tiny home owner. Not me…tiny. The home.

There can be hundreds of campsites and cabins at a campground. Some places are for people who leave their RV there all the time. Camp whenever. Some are people who have a temporary job in the area and this is home for the duration of the job. Others are here for a vacation or weekend getaway. Then there are a those who are just passing through.

One moment the place can be nearly empty (well, not completely – I’m here).

Empty
Full

Okay. What I’m trying to get at is the fact that I, like all the others here, am in an RV of some sort. Mine is a travel trailer. I pull it with a medium large truck. The color of my truck doesn’t match my RV. I’m not on vacation, but sometimes I do vacation-like things. The RVs that come and park beside me for a night or two are usually occupied by at least two people and are just passing through, on their way somewhere else. They’re like a small collective. In the evening they sit outside their “rig” in camp chairs, chatting quietly, thinking, or taking in the view. They spend a lot of time away from the campground sight-seeing, shopping, or visiting friends in the area. Sometimes I do those things, too. Often I make the mistake of thinking that I can do the sightseeing next time I’m in the area. That’s something I want to work on.

My Library
My Office
My Kitchen

My RV life is all the time and mostly its an ordinary life, but in a smaller space. I still have a few books, art supplies, favorite cups and mugs, a summer wardrobe, a winter wardrobe, and a variety of cat toys. There is only one compartment that can be accessed from outside. Its pretty full, but well organized. I have a few tools, a bin of sewer hoses, a couple of water hoses, and some power adapter for converting power from 30 to 15 or 50 to 30. Right now the heated hose, for winter, is stowed in there. I’m using the summer hose and the small ten foot extension hose. I parked six feet too far from the water outlet for my main hose to reach.

Another thing I need to work on is the fact that most of my time is spent inside. I don’t usually go swimming or participate in activities like bingo or hayrides. When I get cabin fever, I jump in my truck and go to town. When I’m in my RV, I watch shows on TV (streaming), play a game on my computer (Minecraft or Guildwars 2), cook or bake, read, write in my journal, write a post for my blog, work on an art project, and sleep. My favorite meal of the day is breakfast. I might only be eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, but I can make that last until lunch time. I might have to warm up my cup of coffee five times before I finished my cereal. I just enjoy the leisure of that time. No rush. The smell of the coffee brewing is a bit nice, too.

When I’m in a campground, I’m sort of one of the crowd, but I don’t think being alone in a crowd has to be a bad thing. For a long time I wanted to fit in, but that wasn’t the answer either. I march to the beat of my own drum.

I Must Confess

I Must Confess

…that most of the things that make me want to give up are my own fault. I purchased this Grand Design “Imagine” travel trailer in mid-March. In May I forgot to tip one end of the awning and a heavy downpour of rain while I was at the vet with my cat, broke my awning. I returned home to find it hanging down and I was terrified. Was this already the end of my RV life? I have no photo of the damage, because I was so mad at myself that I didn’t think of taking a picture. The good news is that I was with several friends and one of them was able to replace the motor, unbend some bends, and all was well.

Just last weekend I returned from a trip to Ohio. I’m currently staying in a campground in Pennsylvania because I have a summer job at the Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park here. It was a long drive and, to my relief, I arrived 20 minutes before dark. My campsite here is very difficult to get into. The roadway in front of my site is only wide enough for one car and the RV across from me is also here for the summer and has four vehicles. I attempted to back into the site myself. No luck there. I walked around and spotted someone outside and asked for assistance spotting. Even with help, I still couldn’t get into my site. No room to swing due to the vehicles opposite me. The owner of the vehicles arrived and was able to move the biggest one. Also a man who is a professional truck driver arrived and he volunteered to back in my RV. By this time it was fully dark and I was exhausted after ten hours on the road. I’d have broken the drive into two days, but I’d told the other RVers I know here that I’d be back around eight o’clock Saturday. I knew I’d need help with “spotting” as I backed in.

The kind truck driver backed me in successfully and I thanked him, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

BUT THEN!

But then I, myself, got in my own way. In unhooking from the truck, I forgot to take off the stabilizer bars. Thinking I was fully unhitched, I started to pull away. Something wasn’t right. Perhaps the ball on the truck wasn’t clearing the receiver on the RV. So I backed up a little. More “something isn’t right” premonitions crawled up my spine. Getting out of the truck and going back to look, I was horrified. The stabilizers! Yes! I’d pulled the whole RV forward and then pushed it back with the stabilizers still connected. The RV hitch was leaning and the RV tires were completely off the blocks I’d had under them. I was too scared to figure out what else I’d messed up. More “this is the end and I give up” thoughts raced through my mind. Pacing back and forth, trying to figure out what to do, the woman in the RV next door saw me and sent two people to help. They were kind and quickly had things made right. By the time I went into my RV, everything was done and I had made new friends. We laughed and agreed that, for the next couple of years, they were going to sit around campfires recanting the tale of the woman who forgot to remove her stabilizer bars. It would probably be titled something like “See what happens when…” Sunday evening I sat around a campfire with several new friends, thinking to myself “this is what makes it all worthwhile”.

And so it goes. Things happen and you want to give up. Then whole bunches of somethings happen and you are happier and more content than ever in your life. Am I talking just about RV life? What do you think?

Is RV Life Worth It?

Is RV Life Worth It?

In the years that I have full time RV’d, I’ve been following many who do the same. I learn from their “lessons learned” and “tips” videos and I rejoice in reading about their wonderful adventures. However, I’ve never seen one where they talk about what I’m about to talk about.

Things happen. Things break. Sometimes its a small thing. A piece of trim might come lose due to a bump in the highway. The exterior trim on the outside of my slide-out started to come off. I used long command strips to hold it on until I could get it to a service location. One day as I was walking my dog around the front of the RV and something fell to the pavement with a crash. The latch mechanism on the hood to the engine compartment had come off. At first I thought it was part of the engine and I panicked. What to do! What to do!

I’ve had people tell me that they could never RV at all, much less full time, because of things breaking. I ask you. What things go perfectly all the time? Can you live in a house and never have something break? Little things and big things. How about your car? Life is just like that. Things happen. Are you of the mind that you’d rather never have a pet, because it might get sick? Might die someday? So you deny yourself the unbelievably huge joy and companionship of a pet?

Full time RVing has been the greatest part of my life. I’ve lived a life of blessings, miracles, adventures, and have experienced a great deal of kindness from others. Not just while RVing, but sprinkled all through my life. However, RVing had a few extra bonuses. Vistas along the drive that absolutely took my breath away.

Crater Lake, Oregon

Unexpected new friends in places I’d never have looked twice at previously. Moments of quiet. Not only quiet from the world, but from the anxiety and worry within me. My friend Tracy would probably call them front porch moments. Many days brought me time to relax and do whatever I wanted. Time seemed to be as it was in my childhood when days were endless.

Imagine seeing a vista like Crater Lake and turning to your traveling companion to say, “Would you look at that? WOW!” I travel alone, but am able to share those amazing experiences with people like yourself.

I wouldn’t trade my experiences for any amount of money. I enjoyed it so much, I’m back at it again. Living in a travel trailer. Is it worth it? Absolutely! How else would I have gotten to experience the world’s largest box of chocolates?

June 6th, 2022 – Comforts of RV Life

June 6th, 2022 – Comforts of RV Life

The last house I owned was a log home; large with a wonderful studio, where I spent a good portion of my day. In that room, I edited film, did photography, read, painted, taught art, hosted Bible Study groups, framed finished art projects, watched movies, and spent a lot of time entertaining friends and family. The cabin was also a bed and breakfast. Many of the guests gravitated to my studio, where I often invited them join me at the long table and handed them some paper and colored pencils or art pens. “Lets do art”, I’d say. The room was comfortable and occupants immediately felt at ease. While learning some little art task, they would tell me about their dreams in life. I loved being there. I loved the people who visited. I was comforted by the place.

Now I’m a grey nomad. I didn’t decide to do that on a whim, although, once the decision was made, it was put into action quickly. A lot of thought, over many months, went into my decision. Thought and research. I talked about all that in previous posts.

When you get a good idea, it just sort of refuses to leave. Especially if it’s a great idea.

Here I am now, two and a half months into my adventure; my idea turned into a little home for myself.

Right now I, my little home, and Sophia are visiting friends in Ohio. This is our first trek and I admit I was a wee bit anxious at first. Okay. Maybe for the entire drive. Would I be able to find a gas station I’d fit into with my rig? How long would it take? Did I miss a turn, because it felt like nothing was familiar? Oh, look. I recognize that. No missed turn. Would I be able to back into the driveway at my destination, in the dark? But here, at last, we are.

Sophia

I’ll spend a week here, heading back to Pennsylvania Saturday. From then until early November, life will become a comfortable routine of campground life. I have a summer job in the office at the Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Campground in Quarryville, Pennsylvania. Yogi is a large, busy place with lots of amenities and guests. At one time or another every single guest passes through the office. The RV is parked at another campground nearby. Both locations are nestled in the woods, surrounded by Amish farms and roadways are shared with horse drawn carriages.

The comforts of RV life? I’m comforted by this small environment. My art/computer desk faces a large window that looks out on summer scenes serenaded by a plethora of birds. My art table itself is a comfort to me. It’s made from a table I bought from a second hand shop. The legs were discarded when it was put in here, but it fits perfectly.

Lately I feel ready to change the way I do art. In this limited space its more practical to work on small projects, using perhaps colored pencils, pastels, and watercolor. What I’ll do with the little projects, I have no idea. Art has been my voice, a way of communicating my heart to the world around me. The message has changed and it isn’t clear what new messages I’d want to paint. The bigger question – do I have anything to say that anyone would want to hear?

In the meantime, here I am. Cooking meals for myself in my little corner kitchen.

Spending time in my corner art studio

and gazing out the window at whatever scene is there at the moment

Comfort is a process; a niche to find and settle into. The sentimental, comforting things I keep must be settled on, keeping in mind the weight they add vs the joy they bring.

In the kitchen my mom’s recipe box sits next to the a favorite basket, on the counter by the window.

My rolling cart of favorite things
My library
My photo gallery

So there you have it. No matter where you live, you can be comforted by the little things in life.

April 24th, 2022 – noon on Sunday

April 24th, 2022 – noon on Sunday

Saturday at Yogi Bear Campground – full of life, laughter, campfires, and golf carts

People are packing their cars to go home, ending a weekend at the Yogi Bear Campground. RVs are being left here, because its the spring special where you bring your RV here, leave it for a month, and come camp weekends. You don’t have to drag your RV home and bring it back each weekend. On the other hand, you can’t stay in it any time except the weekend. Other campgrounds do the same thing at the beginning and, sometimes, the end of the summer season. I guess I get it. My campsite at Ben Franklin, in York, is about $500 a month while this place is $600 for the month and you’re restricted to occupying your RV only during weekends. However, there’s definitely more to do here. Lots more. I’ve had a great time here this weekend and can’t wait to get back here.

I will be working here, in the office, soon. They’re going to let me know when I can do the training. Next summer this campground will be part of the Workamper program, which would give me a campsite in exchange for my working. I’d love that. For this year, I have my current campsite until May 26th. In the meantime I’ll check out a couple other campgrounds close by for a month by month site.

Apprehensions? I was going to spend the weekdays at my apartment, getting it emptied out and cleaned by May 31st. Now I’ll seldom be there. I can make it work, but it’ll be a little different than I expected. It means I won’t get to go to Washington this summer at all and I’ll miss getting to see Robert (my son) and his son Robert. I may not have another chance as they’ll probably going back to Japan soon. I feel sad about not getting to see them. I can’t justify driving to Washington with so many unknowns. It would cost me about $600 for gas going there and its not on the way to any other place I’m going this year. So then it would cost another $600 to go from there to the next place. I’m paying $5.25 a gallon in Pennsylvania.

This year is too soon to be able to do all I hoped. I bought my RV in mid-March. A lot more people are camping these days and campgrounds are filling up faster. It means doing a bit more planning and making reservations farther ahead. I didn’t have time to do that this year. Some of my plans have worked out, but they’re a bit further in the future. In the meantime, I like the idea of working here in the office for the summer season. It’ll give me a chance to save a bit of money. It’ll also give me time to re-adjust more to RV life and to prepare for possible next steps. I may just have to adjust my plans for summers. This is a great campground and a good place to work each summer. It would just mean going to Washington at a different time.

Yogi Bear Campground in the Spring