Put The Toilet Paper In The Fridge, People.

March 31, 2017.

Here are some things I've learned on this trip.  You will be glad you've learned from my experiences.  You're welcome.

1)  If you eat a green chili burger in Santa Fe, I suggest you put the toilet paper in the fridge overnight.  You will thank me for this tip.  When they look quizzically at you as you order and they tell you "it's hot", and you just blow them off with a "phwah" and a flighty hand gesture, you will be seriously sorry.  Listen to them.  They are not messing around, people.  THIS. is the evidence.  The green chili is hiding under the cheese.  And it's potentially lethal.  I only ate half of it and spent the next 24 hours in the loo counting the tiles on the wall.

2)  When Doug says it's COLD, it's COLD.

Our boat.  It should thaw out by August.

Then we can all go sailing.

3)  Cherish the religious sites, even if you're not religious.

Share the joy.

You don't have to be into it to get into it.

4)  Pay respects to sacred places.   

Respect it as its original people do.

5)  Never, EVER underestimate The Power Of A Woman.

Or a few thousand of them.

And cool, supportive men.

6)  When in Rome .... eat, drink and be merry.  

  

7)  Enjoy the special times with your true friends.

8)  Eat dessert.  Life is short.  Enjoy it!

#thingsihavelearnedalongtheway, #greenchiliburgerssantafe, #ontheroadwithzuma, #travelingwithagreatdane, #enjoyinglifeontheroad, #tryeverythingonce

The Diner.

March 31, 2017.

I needed to take the car in for an oil change this morning and I had extra time so I stopped at the nearby diner for breakfast which is a real treat because I haven't had an egg in like, 3 months.  Not that I have anything against eggs.  Or chickens.  I'm just watching my cholesterol levels, ya'll. 

So, I bellied up to the farthest corner of the diner in 'the loser section' because that is where the waitresses seat the scruffy people who look like they can't afford an egg.  Perhaps I should've brushed my hair better.  I had a lovely, panoramic view of the parking lot. The Eagles were playing 'Desperado' on the radio.  
I felt right at home.  

The coffee was hot and heavy and I swear they had a camera on me because they kept coming to refill my mug after every few sips.  Or maybe they just wanted me outta there.  The waitress was adorable. In true Southern style, she called me Sugar, Honey, Dahlin' and Sweetie.  And she really meant it.  I know she did.

They wanna fill you up at diners, so the lovely charming waitress clad in a gingham apron immediately brought me a piping hot freshly baked biscuit the size of a tom cat's head with a side of outstanding homemade apple butter.  Mmmm Mmmmm.  I snarfed down the bottom half and thought, "Uh Oh.  I'm full".  Then she arrived with 2 eggs, potatoes and bacon.  And. Another freshly baked biscuit. And a bowl of something I didn't recognize. I didn't order that.  She looked a little concerned about my mental state when I asked what it was.  "Why, that's gravy, Hon".  Gravy. Southern style pork sausage gravy for the biscuit.  People go crazy about Southern gravy here but I couldn't eat much so I had to pass.  Two of these monster biscuits and that slug of gorgeous gravy could feed a family of four. I felt embarrassed about leaving it all but I couldn't fit it in my purse.



#southernhospitality,#southerncooking, #biscuitsandgravy, #southerndiners, #genuinesouthernhospitality, #ontheroadwithzuma, #travelingwithagreatdane

Croaking.

March 30, 2017.

I am still croaking.    
Today is Laryngitis Day 14.  

The Dr. shrugged wisely and softly suggested, "rest your voice" which I'm pretty sure means "shut the hell up" in doctor talk.  So I did.  For three days.  I holed up in the RV and typed and read and researched and watched waaaay too many stupid game shows and did you even KNOW there are STILL Soap Operas on daytime tv? This is mind-boggling news to me.  Whaaat is with the lingering shots of people staring off into space?  They're still doing that?! How 1972!  (Last time I saw a Soap Opera, apparently).

Anyway, I can't talk make noise so when I'm all hush hush around our friends, I find that slowly, we're deep in a quiet conversation, leaning forward and being all serious and good listeners and then ... they all start whispering.  If you're really in need of free entertainment, try this. I guarantee it will work.  Great party trick. Then you'll all burst out laughing because it's just human nature. I pretty much laff so hard I can't squeak out a word the next day.  But it's worth a good chuckle, ya gotta laff at yourself, right?

Anyway, I try not to talk at all, sooo when I do spurt out partial words (like, "harooo?" when the 'phone rings), it takes a few sentences before real sound comes out.  I can hear the silence of the people who call me and are clearly thinking, "WTF?".  

Zuma thinks it's great because she pretty much doesn't listen anyway. Even the hand signals are being ignored.  Because, apparently, my hands speak volumes even if they're just fluttering fingers.  

So, Gentle Readers, I am pretty sure this is THE END and they're plotting to remove all my insides and stuff me with straw because I have a 'strained larynx' and doctors freak me out.

I just wanted to share that with ya'll, because, yeh, I can type but I still can't talk.




#laryngitisishilarious, #ontheroadwithzuma

Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch (Maine).

March 30, 2017.

It's Spring here!  The season is three weeks ahead of the norm and Western NC is always three weeks ahead of Maine so I'm lovin' it. The flowering trees and shrubs have been blooming like crazy. 

Everywhere we go, showers of petals rain down on us, the daffodils have completed their vibrant showing and the lawns are being mowed for the third time here.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch, poor Doug is shoveling the snow for the millionth time.  5" more fluffy stuff is expected there overnight.  

We're truly thankful for all the people who stay at the farm and keep things going when we're away.  THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!  

It's beautiful here but there's a down side.  The frost a couple of weeks ago killed off a lot of the flowers and probably a gazillion bees. The orchardists and berry growers' livelihoods are severely threatened.   It's been consistently cold in Maine so I'm hopeful the bees will be okay there but I gotta offer a little help.  (This is the same cray cray farm lady who runs 75' of extension cord to hook up a big fan and en suite bird baths for the Bluebird houses when it's really hot).  Iiii know.  Cray cray.  Doug just rolls his eyes and hopes I don't burn down the barn blowing up the wiring while I'm trying to save the Bluebirds.
    
I found these very cool unique 'bee hotels' at the Arboretum here and I'm going to buy a few and set them up at the farm.  


They're available on eBay (tap in a quick search for Mason Bee Hotel, $11.95 - $19.95).  Mason bees pollinate but, from what I've read, they don't produce honey (?). However, If we all do our bit, hopefully we can keep the bee population healthy and pollinating.

Other tips (not trying to get all 'preachy'):  Please don't use chemicals on your property and plant flowers and shrubs that attract butterflies and bees.  Enjoy!  

#mainelife, #freezinginmaine, #springinginnc, #travelingwithagreatdane, #savethebees, #savedougfromthemainewinter

  

Boobie Ruby and Keepin' it Weird

March 28, 2017.

That's a familiar saying around Asheville and, for a small fee, 

you too can purchase your very own hippie-style bumpers stickers 

and plaster them on your car and drive around looking all cool.  
Like I do.

Yep, there's no question about it.  Asheville attracts the unique, the artists, the travelers, the adventurers, the curious.  

Of course, the community is speckled with the cogs that turn the wheels of the city, but we feel that 'keeping it weird' is what attracts us far more than well-tailored business suits and high heels.  

The Police here are cool.  Friendly to the public, no matter who you are or how you're dressed.  

Its not uncommon to see them talking with the transients, keeping the peace 'n all.  People are friendly. Personally, I think this has to be because they're happy to live here. 

Speaking of how you're dressed, how about how you're undressed? Doug and I were zipping around West Asheville one day last Summer and we saw a young woman walking on the sidewalk pushing a bicycle.  With no top on.  And no bra.  Yeh, it was all hangin' out there and she was feeeling the sunshine.  For about 10 seconds we drove along in silence (rapidly blinking in unison) until we both inquired at the same time, "Did you see what I just saw?" We immediately named her Boobie Ruby because we're twisted suddenly, she was everywhere we went, just feelin' the breeze.  Since then we've seen other women chillin' topless in the city.  Even downtown.  Hey, whatever floats your boat.  Go for it. It's legal.  I looked it up.  

Sure, people gasp and point and stare but seriously, who really cares?  It's all good.  It's Asheville.  Keepin' it weird.

                             

  
#keepinitweirdashevillenc, ashevillenc, travelingwithagreatdane, #weirdasheville, #loveasheville

Why Wouldn't You Want To Be a Gynocologist When You Grow Up?

MARCH 29, 2017.

When Emma was a pre-schooler, the teacher asked all the kidlets what they wanted to be when they grow up.  "A fireman!", "A teacher!"  Then our daughter blurted out "A leader"!  Not one child admitted they wished to pursue a career in gynecology.  Go figure.

So today I had "The most funnest day of the year" and got all that girlie stuff taken care of.  "How ya doing?" asked the Dr., ""Great!  This is my favorite day of the year!" (my usual comeback, try it, they'll practically snort stuff out their nose.  I just do it for the reaction and it really eases the tension in the room.

So, after 2 hours I was finally released from unflattering gowns and stirrups and paper tablecloths and got to go home.  After everyone in the entire building had seen my gi gi and boobs.  If this is making you uncomfortable, turn the page.  Or get over it.  It's reality, man.  I think I made a lot of friends today because the three rotating receptionists kept screwing up my appointments so I had to hang out longer.  The laryngitis helped speed things up.  Or else they were thinking, "Next stop for this one: Puzzle Factory (loonie bin)".  There was a lot of scribbling on forms; they looked very serious but they were laffing.  I just made light of the whole thing.  I had fun with a very unpleasant situation.  They liked my sense of humor.  So much so that they invited me back on Monday for a bone density scan and then I don't need another oil change for a year.  Unless they scan my messed up knee and then they'll find enough screws and plates to start a hardware store.  Good second career, that hardware store business. Sorting screw and nails is far more appealing to my mind than ... yeh .... well, you know.

Yeh, so, I hate going to the Doctor.  Because I always convince myself on the way there that it's a) incurably terminal and b) I really should be home defrosting the freezer right now because if I need emergency surgery what will happen to the new bag of fresh ice cubes?   So I took an Uber because I didn't feel like tackling rush hour traffic.  That was fun, too.  The trees are blossoming in full force and it's absolutely glorious today, 80 degrees.  What better day to hang out in an OB/GYN's office folks?

Anyway, I really liked my Doctor, we hit it off before the intimate part.  Shudder.  I just go to my 'Faraway Place' where I'm 15 and jumping merrily over picnic tables on my pony and count to ten. Then I bound off the table, gown flapping, like I'm being pursued by a herd of wild boars.  But I survived it and it's over.  I still feel somewhat violated. But it's over, Thank Gawd. 
Missi commented that I should at least get a ribbon for participation.

A Request ....

March 26, 2017.

A few months ago I wrote a blog (Old Dogs Matter, August, 2016) dedicated to senior dogs and you, Gentle Readers, told me you really liked it.  I received photos from as far away as France! and met some fantastic, genuine dog lovers.  So, I want to write another blog about Senior dogs, past or present, to pay homage to our loyal friends.  Please message me on FB or e.mail me and I'll put a blog together in the next coupla days.  Thank you!

'The LOOK'.

March 15, 2017.

Yeh, so, this is "The Look".

It means:

The bed is lumpy.
It's cold out there.  
I think I have cellulite.
I need Animal Planet.

My water has not been freshened up in the past hour.

Where's that chicken jerky stuff you hide from me?

Zuma and I rarely talk.  It's all in 'the look'.  When she can't won't get on the bed because she thinks she's claustrophobic she stands staring at the bed then staring at me hoping I'll move the pair of socks that are blocking her way.  She can give me 'the look' for a very very long time.  She never says a word, she just acts like her life is completely ruined.  If the comforter isn't just right, I get 'the look'.  I've tried to ignore it and give her hand signals to jump on the bed but she won't make the leap of faith until I relocate said socks (or whatever miniscule obstacle is barring her way).  How can such a giant dog be deterred by a pair of socks?  Dane Brain.

Never ever do I scold Zu.  I talk to her like she's a human.  Because she is.  Only nicer.  More forgiving, more accepting.  

When people hang out with us and hear me talking to Zu like she understands everything I say I have to question if they sometimes kinduv wonder.  Momentarily.  Then they realize that this big ole dawg totally knows what I'm going on about and I just have to give her a hand gesture or 'the look' and she responds.  I've even asked, "Do you think I've been living alone with my dog too much?".  

When she was a puppy she had two bathroom accidents (major) when she first came to us, totally not her fault as she'd never lived in a house.  My reaction was (sigh) "Oh boy, let's go outside, no worries". It totally worked.  Never again did she have another accident. She is easily embarrassed.  Danes are very sensitive creatures.  Despite their size, these Gentle Giants are the biggest dog wimps ever.  I cannot imagine what it would be like to live with a challenging, hyperactive dog.  After decades of having German Shepherds, the Great Dane is my fave breed now.  I still get excited by a nice Shepherd, but the docile, easy-going temperment of a Dane is something everyone should experience.  

If you can get through the Sorry-but-I-ate-the-couch phase.



#danebrain, #travelingwithagreatdanedog, #ontheroadwithzuma

We need another one ....

March 25, 2017.

This is Zuma's BFF Alis (short for Aurora Borealis):

A couple of days ago, Zuma and Alis had a doggie play date at the dog park.  The girls had a blast with the other dogs when suddenly two beautiful Danes came gallomping along.  

Oh boy, if anyone thinks that dogs aren't fully aware of their own kind, introduce four Danes.  Scooby Doo Land.  They were so happy to see "their own kind".  They hit it off immediately and it was comical to watch "Dane Brain" (times four) in action.  They play so differently from any other dogs, it's all "mind if I put your head in my mouth?" and "let me stomp on you", body slamming and knocking each over head-on at a slow motion 5 mph.  

It was impossible to get all four to cooperate for a group photo.
Alis had to take a break after a while.  That's my dear friend and Alis's Person Jansen! 

The owner of the black Dane and the Harlequin is very knowledgable about the breed, she has had several and says she always gets another one when the first one is about four.

Then, the mature dog can help socialize and teach manners to the younger one.  Seeing Zuma come to life with other dogs her size makes me think ....

.... I think I'm ready for another one ....

#gettingasecondgreatdane, #travelingwithagreatdanedog, #ontheroadwithzuma, #haveIlost mymind?

Bath House Hysteria.

March  21, 2017.

Okay, if you've never experienced an RV Park Bath House in the Winter, DON'T DO IT.  Unless you're into self-torture.

When my hot water wasn't working I had to use the bath house at the RV Park.  It's nice enough, clean, tiled, efficient.

But those tiles are really freaking cold on a March morning and if I don't have a shower every two days my hair looks like a bacon dish.  I have to lay all my shit stuff out on the bench, towels, clothes, etc., all in the order I will adorn them post showering. Gently deposit shampoos and soap and wash cloth in the shower and prepare to be amazed.  No.  I can barely pull the tap out of the wall to make the water run and it takes a really long time for the hot water to come through.  So long that I turn the knob the other way and pray it's gotta be right.  No.  How long should I wait for the hot water?  

Finally, the hot water kicks in before I go mental and then I drop the soap.  OMG.  I am NOT a fan of public bath houses.

Last summer Missi scrambled out of the shower on a really hot day and was freaking out because there was a snake in the shower.  I don't mind snakes.  I actually like them unless they leap out and surprise me.  So I calmed her down and went into the shower stall expecting to tackle a giant Anaconda.  It turned out to be a baby green snake who was already dead.  It was the size of a large worm. But Missi doesn't like snakes and a snake is a snake.  Even tho' this little guy was so small it would have barely qualified as an appetizer on a cracker.

The other day I had a shower in the bath house and when I went to open the door Missi was on the other side.  Our timing couldn't have been more perfect.  I pulled, she pushed and she screamed hysterically because she wasn't expecting anyone.  Me neither.  We laffed so hard I almost had to go have another shower.  If you know what I mean.

Now I have gushings of hot water in Hula Girl I don't have to use the bath house.  Life will be easier but not nearly as entertaining as bath house hysteria.



#publicbathhouses, #rvcamping, #travelingwithagreatdanedog, #ontheroadwithzuma, #bathhousehysteria

Can't Talk Right Now.

March 24, 2017.

Last Thursday as all the frozen pipes and stuff were kicking into high challenge-me gear, I caught a cold (surprise) and it developed into laryngitis.  So I haven't had a voice for six days.  Yeh, this rocks, people.  Somehow I managed to rasp out requests on the 'phone:  I booked two medical appts and a hairdresser appt.  I even booked the car in for an oil change.  Plus dealing with the RV issues.  Think Demi Moore with a bad cold.  

I am finding that if you have laryngitis you get faster service (nobody wants to hear that squeaking voice) so I'm sharing this with you because if you need an appointment and you screech out a request, you get in waaaay faster. People are generally kind-hearted and want to help. Especially if you're squawking like a choking duck caught in a trap. Or else they're grasping their throat and thinking, OMG, there but for the grace of God go I.

My RV Mobile guys were away for the weekend, out of range for telephone support. Last Monday, when they returned into a service area, they called me and figured out the valves and, after a few minutes in a totally original turn-on-my-head yoga position, we now we have a fabulously hot furnace and an uber scorching unending supply of hot water.  So I no longer have to shower in the bath house with farrreeezing cold tiles and sticky taps. 

Last Sunday, Oscar and I were invited for a bbq at The Newmann's, a wonderful Texas family we have all became friends with during the past year.  They too are far away from their home, but they make us feel like we're totally at home.  We shared a special afternoon and evening together, and we'll keep in touch.  

I love the songbirds who flock around us here.  On our walk back to our motor home one night at sunset, a flock of Bluebirds flew directly overhead between us and Hula Girl, stopping on my fave nearby shrub to chirp and announce their arrival.  This is a good Omen: The Bluebirds of Happiness are watching over us and chirping to make it known they are here.  

Thanks to Oscar and a dozen towels and a coupla beers and the blessings of the flock of jubiliant bluebirds, my floor has never been more spotless and I am working on looking forward to the upcoming changes:  bidding our farewells to NC and these wonderful people who have become friends and family, traveling on our trip back to Maine .... 

As the season changes and we are all welcoming Spring, these are very positive signs.  Happy Spring, everyone!



#RVLife, #glamping, #de-winterizing your RV, #travelingwithaGreatDanedog,#freezingmyassoff

The House Hunt and The Hearth.

March 24, 2017.

We're looking for a small house/cottage that we could use as a Winter home here in Asheville so I've been seriously on the hunt. We are blessed to have K, a neighbor who is a friend and recently became a realtor and is totally amazing.  Like, blow your socks off efficient and enthusiastic.  Every day we receive an e.mail from her early a.m. with properties just listed.  Here, it is such a buyer's market, places sell for asking price or beyond within hours of listing.  I kid you not.  Prices are crazy.

I've/we've done a lot of drive-bys and checked out some very nice places that could possibly work for us but they weren't exactly what we want.  All we need is a small house with a yard for Zuma, 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and a kitchen big enough to swing a cat in (if a room was too small my mother would say "Not enough room to swing a cat in").  I know.  That's twisted.  No further comments. Shaking head.  Old British saying.

Okay, so pulleeeze don't get all judgy about Asheville because this is NOT the norm (these photos), this is the extreme.  It's a seller's market here and this lovely little gem came on the market and had to be seen.

Excellent location, adorable 1925 Grannie's style house, curbside appeal, fenced yard for the dawg in one area and a double lot. I perused the back yard first and said, yeh, I can do this.  It was completely overgrown with a dilapidated building crumbling in a corner but it could be done.  

It said in the ad "Needs work".  The large dog run/yard near the house was intact, so that was a bonus (no pix).  Thinking positively. 

K, who had just gone through the house for the first time, walked out to the back yard looking rather pale and said, "You haven't seen the inside yet".

*Pause.  Viewer Discretion Is Advised.*.  

Okay, I'm gonna let the pix do the talking.  
This house is at the top end of our budget and I chose to check it out because it's in a fantastic historic neighborhood .... 

This is the back deck.  A tree fell on it.  Clearly the house has been abandoned.  It's being sold by the inheritors.  Poor little house.

This is the kitchen.  We quickly realized this darling little house has been inhabited by squatters.  Note the baseball bat and WHAT is that spatter on the cupboards, gaaaaaag.  It looks like a crime scene from Forensic Files.

There's a wee problem with the foundation in one corner.

Ooh, it's bigger than wee.

If you wanna keep the squatters from squatting and make your home more saleable, simply relocate the toilet to the dining room.

Or, clean your bathroom.

At the center of the house there is a wood stove and a hearth.  

I stood there for a minute and thought of past squeals of glee as Christmas stockings were opened, cold hands and feet warmed, toasts shared.  This house is a story unto itself.  Amazingly, the hearth was the cleanest, most untouched part of the house.  It was as if it was respected by whomever trashed the rest of the old home. The hearth is the center of the home, they say.  Who opened their stockings here?  The inheritors?

I can pick up a vibe from a house and this little place is begging for help.  Sadly, it will likely be torn down because it's been neglected for too long and the land is valuable to developers.

Feeling pretty deflated, I went home and had a really really long shower.  The search continues.

"Needs work".  That's a stretch. 

I met this lady ....

March 23, 2017.

So, yesterday, I was trying to mail a parcel to my cousin in Wales, UK and I am totally surprised that the P.O. is a well-kept secret here.  After an hour of driving around frothing at the bit, I still had the parcel in my grips because I went to three grocery stores with 'Post Offices' and they all were somewhat aghast when I asked to send a small parcel to Wales.  Can't do that. We only sell stamps. They even took a step back, called for the Manager.  I was feeling all criminal like I was shipping crack to the UK and OMG, where is my passport? 

So, after stirring it up at three grocery store 'Postal Offices', Zuma and I drove to the MAIN P.O. and it's all government-secure with threatening signs and stuff.  Ignoring the 'We will fine you and you'll go to jail for 530 years if you're in here' signs, I parked the car.  I just wanna mail this brochure, man.  Zuma thinks this gangstah style method of mailing a pamphlet overseas is cool.  She even stood up and turned around in the back of the car when I was getting all edgy about why did everyone tell me I could mail this parcel HERE?  So I jumped out of the car and started sniffing around for an entrance.

It says on the signs this is The Freaking Post Office. Everyone told us that this is the Post Office.  Then I parked and the doors were all locked and required a password.  Whaaat? I have to get a password to buy a stamp?  Turned out this is the shipping center for Post Offices.  Duh, Sonia.  You believe everyone.

After all, who sends packages except at Christmas?  And then it's easier to send gift cards.  Because, ya'll, we're all so wrapped up with e.mail and social media we don't SEND postcards or parcels (well, I still do, because I'm .... um .... not quite right old-fashioned). 

Anyway, I was skulking around the Post Office parking lot like a hobo-terrorist with my little package under my arm when I saw a woman who clearly is a postal employee.  I approached her and inquired where to go to mail said package and then ... I realized she had a fresh wad of chewing tobacco stuffed into her right cheek. This was a SERIOUS HONKIN' CHUNK of chewing tobacco folks.  Think small baseball.  Okay, that's cool, whatever.  If that's the trip you're on, I'm fine with that.  Until the brown drool started to slowly spill out down her chin as she talked and I had a rather challenging extremely difficult time focusing on what she said.  In fact, I have absolutely no freaking idea what she said.  I couldn't stop looking at the drool river trickling down her chin (like, "Don't you even FEEL that?!").  No apologies, she was into her tobacco buzz stage.  Didn't even wipe her chin.  She slurpingly directed me to another (far away) part of town to a postal service.  I'm not being all judgy, but, Jayzus, there's something you don't see every day.  

I just stuck a sh** ton of stamps on the package and mailed it from the RV Park.  

I guess I've led a sheltered life.  I need to get out more.

Bad Camper Karma.

March 21, 2017.

Yeh, so, last week we had record low temps here in NC and oh lucky me, the furnace quit on the coldest night for some unknown reason.  

People we've met along the way have sighed when they hear that we're trying to knock stuff off our Bucket List, explore the country. "I envy you", they say.  Well, it's not all glam when you're camping/glamping (glamorous camping in a motorhome).  Clearly, they haven't spent the coldest night of a mountain NC Winter 'cuz we damn near froze our butts off for two nights before we got the furnace rockin'.  We had many invitations to stay with friends but seriously, it's kinduv an imposition to have a 145 lb Great Dane couch-surfing in your house.  "Step away from the dog.  Don't talk to Zuma, her tail will wag and will clear every countertop".  Man, you really find out who your friends are and EVERY ONE of our friends have been so super hospitable, inviting us to stay at their place .... but Zuma and I toughed it out, we felt it wiser to stick it out rather than have her happy tail wreck people's homes.  So, we got our pioneer women big girl panties on and bundled up with a mound of puffy comforters and I locked on 2 pairs of fluffy socks and all the clothes I could fit into in layers and waited for the RV Mobile Repair Unit to come because, despite our best efforts, my friend and neighbor Oscar tried, but, alas, still no heat. Gaaagh.  We need PARTS. 

So, the RV Repair guys came and they were AMAZING.  To make a long story seem like it will never end short, the guys got the furnace working and also the hot water.  I've been roughing it with cold water only because I could not figure out the hot water (it turns out it was all about winterizing the camper but nobody told me of all the shite I would have to endure to get back to normal. No fault of the camper, we're just novices but I'm feeling pretty savvy now.  The camper was winterized and there are more valves and twisty turny knobs to adjust than my simple brain can handle. Oscar read the manual and we agreed we had it figured out one night but .... the hot water would only run for 30 seconds.  I am all about conserving water and saving the planet but a 30 second shower?  Seriously, that's kinduv a challenge, ya'll.

The Mobile Repair guys were super about supporting me on the 'phone after they replaced the entire guts of the furnace.  After a couple of consultations Zuma and I were toasty warm and feeling pretty cozy.  

HOWEVER, the night the furnace was repaired, we heard on the weather report that it was going to be blaaawdy cold so they advised "keep your taps running to prevent them from freezing " so I did.  Because I believe everything the weather guys say.  Because they have their freaking snowflake sweaters on.  They're not foolin' around, America.  That's when I woke up at 11:00 p.m. to the sound of gurgling water.  Gurgling?!  I leapt out of bed and yowzers, my feet were spongey WET!  When I turned on the lights I saw a sea of water trickling at great speed across the floor of Hula Girl. The noise I heard was WATER trickling down the steps.  OMG! Instant panic.  

In my leaping mode, I saw that the floor was FLOODING and I had no idea of its origin.  Long story short, I used every towel, my coats and every piece of potentially absorbment material to mop up the mess.  It was a Lucille Ball moment.  I was laughing my arse off.  But it wasn't funny.  I was just thinking about how hard I'd laff my arse off afterwards.

As the water-logged material became saturated, I turfed everything outside our door onto the lawn.  I hope the neighbors weren't thinking, OMG, there goes that Maine woman again, chucking stuff out the door like trailer trash.  Thankfully, my neighbors are very cool and friendly and totally get it.

After about ten minutes of bend-over middle-of-the-night mop the floor panic, I finally realized I NEED HELP.  WTF is going on and why is there water flowing through the camper and where is it coming from and will I be mopping the floor for the next 12 hours?? I chucked the soppiest towels out the door and realized 'this is bigger than me' as the water continued to flow under my feet and I couldn't locate the source.  Zuma took one empathetic look around and, despising puddles and water discomfort of any kind, she instantly retired to the higher level of our bed with a disgruntled snort.  No way was she getting her feet wet.  

I am like, so outta here.

Oscar, who is a rock star about helping me, had said "Anytime you need help, just call me.  Any time".  Well, I don't like to ask for help but Oscar is so sweet (he's happily married and in the Air Force) and I was really feeling like I was in over my head with this whole bad camper karma thing. So, around 11:15 p.m. I knocked on his door and apologetically said, "I have a problem.  My camper is flooding".  He immediately sprang into action and raced over to bail out the damsel in distress.  Seriously, I needed help.  

So, longer story shorter, we figured out that the water valve was partially frozen shut and the tank was filling up and, with nowhere else to go it was overflowing; water was building up and coming out the shower stall which was spewing clear tap water all over (because I had taps running to prevent a frozen pipes scenario). Oscar opened the valve and we mopped up the mess.  I was going to wash the floor anyway, lol. Zuma watched in big dog fascination.

After we figured out the problem, I asked Oscar, "Wanna beer?" and so we sat and had a brew and sighed.  It all dried up and no damage was done.  Except I had a load of frozen laundry on the lawn the next day but I got through it.  Sigh.  Trailer Trash.  Thaw frozen towels in our shower stall, mop up droplets, swear like my Dad did when our old car broke down, it's all good.  Sometimes nothing like a REALLY GOOD EFFECTIVE swear word works.

The Joys of Winter Glamping.

March 15, 2017.

It's been blowin' a hoolie here for a few days off and on.  
What, you inquire, is 'blowin' a hoolie'?  Well, I looked it up. Because it's a real thing.  A hoolie is basically a gale (linguistically of Irish and Scottish descent). You're welcome.  I've only ever heard of hoolies in Canada and nobody south of the border had apparently ever heard it before I mentionitised it but suddenly it's an international term, ya'll.  If you read it on the internet, it's gotta be true.

So, we're watching the Weather Channel and all the broadcasters have their snowflake sweaters on and are huddled around fake fireplaces cuddling mugs of cocoa and they are totally freaking right OUT.  They've got their snowflake sweaters on so this must be really really serious.  Right now, they're really in overdrive because 12 - 18" is expected in the northeast today.  

And, fellow weather forecast followers, it's freaking cold here in North Carolina.  Record Low temps.  Yeh, like 10 degrees colder than in Maine and it seemed I ran out of propane in the middle of the night and I wasn't going to get all pioneer woman and head out there in the dark to trouble shoot.  So, feeling all smug and resourceful (and starting to lose the feeling in my extremites at an alarming rate), I dug out the big back up electric heater and, much to my surprise, it swiftly started poofing out massive billows of smoke.  Lovely.  I had to wrestle it out the door all Mary Tyler-Moore style and chuck it out on the lawn like when she turfs some pork chops in her grocery cart.  I'm thankful my neighbors weren't home at the time and didn't see me gettin' all gangstah-style with the heater.  Then the water froze overnight.  My friend and neighbor is coming over after work to bail me out.  I'd go to a hotel but I can't find one that will take Zuma.

The systems were adjusted when we had it winterized.  Waiting for a call back from the Mobile Repair Servce.  Needless to say, I'd like to be writing a really upbeat blog this morning, but .... It's been kinduv a shite week.  

Oh, The Joys of Winter Glamping.

More Random Dog Thoughts ....

March 9, 2017.

I didn't sign anything stating I'd share the hotel bed 

with either of you so just bugger off 

and shut the lights out when you leave.

And please leave the tv on Animal Planet.

                                       

                           

OMG. Where have you been all my life?

Regrets?  I've had a few ....

Did you ask the cats about the chewed couch cushions 

'cuz I think they had something to do with it.

Chillin' with my lady person.

Take me to the river .... lead me to the water ....

When I grow up I just wanna be little.

My head is bigger than this puppy.

Kids and little puppies Rock. 

Ar-Roooo!  

Putting on this cooling vest is making me 

AND my man person/personal assistant/staff sweat.

I'm being ultra uncooperative so we'll both be steamily hot as hell once he wrestles me into this stupid thing.

My lady person is making wierd noises as she snaps this shot 

and mentioning needing a bathroom.

This vest is ultra cool on a hot day, though.

So I'll just shaddup about twirling myself into it and twirling my personal assistants into purchasing new pants

and keep on keepin' cool.

This snazzy new collar is sure to make me stand out in a crowd, don'tchathink?

I have a whole wardrobe, you know.

Ths is my BFF Alis.

Playmate.  Confidante.  Heart of Gold.

She is open and honest, she can keep a secret.  She likes to take me exploring and she always has my back.

I luvvvv Alis (Aurora Borealis, officially).

#randomdogthoughts, #travelswithagreatdanedog, #greatdanebffs