It’s funny in a way, but my accent seems to have returned with a vengence. It’s more “drawly” than it was when I lived here for 25 years. Probably because I’m much farther south. My speech is rapidly deteriorating into a kind of “valley surfer drawl.” I use “y’all,” “Duuuude” and “totaly” with equal frequency. It’s weird, I hear these phrases coming out of my mouth and my brain is like “where did THAT come from.” Ah, but I digress. Here are a few “totally Kentucky” phrases I have noticed creeping into my vernacular and their translations.
“Y’all” is singular. “All Y’all” is plural. “All y’all’s” is plural possessive.
“Bless your Heart” is a nice way of saying you’re an idiot
“Dirty Bird” is KFC
“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit” – translation “holy cr*p”
“Fair to middlin'” means doing OK
“slicker’n snot on a doorknob” – really slippery and … ewwwwwww
“I reckon'” – I think
“Fixin to” – getting ready to do something, does not mean something’s broken.
“Have a gooden” – have a good day
“T’other day” – can mean any time in the past several months
We had record breaking snowfall yesterday with 9-10 inches of the white stuff. I’m off to watch the ducks in the ice-free parts of our lake.
“She was an adventurer at heart; but oh how she loved drinking this tea, from this mug, in this chair. Oh how she loved to be home.” ~Unknown
Misty fog on the lake today. Ethereal whisps, chirpping birds as I open the windows and let the fresh air and moisture cleanse my home and my spirit. A few score starlings alight on the tree outside my window, picking winter berries. I see clearly for the first time their backs and wings spotted in patterns of black, brown and white. Nature’s artistry camoflaging their small bodies. Something startles them and they are suddenly in flight joining hundreds of others in a small murmuration. A thousand dark shapes dance across the misty air. Intricate choreography on wings. The sun has lightened the world but I can not see the sky for the low clouds, just the reflections on the still water disturbed only by the leisurely paddling of ducks.
All those days hiding in the shadows all those years living in the past all that time never understanding what was meant to last
Now I’m here on a misty morning standing here I am not alone by your side at last I know I’ve finally come home
October has been warm and mild thus far. Temps were slightly above average for this area, wonderful weather for fall. And then, there’s today. Today we have a viscious cold front blowing through bringing rapid drops in temperature, rain, and snow. Yeah, three inches so far. It’s also brought thunder. Thunder during a snow storm is rare, and given our propensity for hail storms, more than a little scary. So, here we are holed up in our battered little RV, riding out the storm … again.
On the good news front, we found a permanent home that we like, much farther east, a little farther south, much closer to the children (but not too close *wink*). We’ve taken a virtual tour, gotten an inspection, made an offer, set the closing date and now we’re just waiting to close. So, we’ll be packing up the RV for the last time and heading out to start the next adventure in a house that has no wheels. Wow, I mean WOW this is gonna be a huge change. The other good (?) news is that everything we own fits in a 5X8 U-haul trailer and the back of the Swiss Cheesemobile (honda fit) and we should be moved by the first week of November.
Today’s thunder snow reminds me so much of all this move represents. It is beautiful, rare, inconvenient, terrifying, not at all what I had planned. I am equal parts ecstatic to the point of mania and terrified to the point of blind panic. It’s a thin line between the two. I’m currently using that line as a jump rope, keeps life interesting. 😉
It’s been just over a month since we returned to South Dakota. Just 33 days since the wandering course of my life was suddenly, profoundly altered when hail stones the size of baseballs punched through the roof of our home. For twenty minutes we were bombarded. Such a short time to change the course of a life. I went into PTSD shock, I shook and wept for days as we struggled to clear the debris and make the immediate repairs. I’m still weeping.
We were stranded for a week without transportation. You never realize just how much you depend on a car until suddenly it’s useless and that little seven-mile hop into town for milk is no longer feasible. So now we deal with the clean up. The car is a write off to the insurance company. We replaced the windshield and it’s drivable. Our 5th wheel was not a total write off so we’re left with a small settlement, a home that we can’t get repaired until spring, and then we’ll have to find somewhere to live for several weeks while they replace the roof. Not happening, not in this town.
First priority, transportation. That’s been accomplished with the new windshield. All the remaining damage to the car is cosmetic. I’ve ordered some cheese decals and we’ll call it the “Swiss Cheese Mobile.” I have this bizzare urge to put a bumper sticker on it that says “WHO MOVED MY CHEESE?”
Next priority, housing. Our original plan was simply to move the RV to another park. Somewhere closer to our family, without hailstorms and have the repairs done there. But, as fate would have it all of the parks we would consider living in are full. Back to square one. Next option, rent an apartment, again just not happening. Wait lists for anywhere we’d actually consider living for a year. Next option, buy a condo and give up the wandering lifestyle entirely. That one seems to be working out. We’ll see how it goes. So if I’m blog-absent for awhile, it’s just the massive amount of mental and psychic energy that’s spent in adjusting to the idea of a house the doesn’t move, finding, financing, inspecting, said non-moving house and the realization that we’re getting too old for this crap. *Dreams die hard and you hold them in your hands long after they’ve they’ve been crushed by the holy hand grenade of hailstones.
Ahhhh well, we shall see what this next adventure holds in store.
It’s been a crazy summer. Summer arrived early and with tsunami-like intensity. The temperature rose, the heat became unbearable and stayed that way. We traveled to Oregon for a brief respite but were soon run off by fires, smoke and declining air quality. We diverted to Utah only to run into more air quality problems and a bad wheel bearing. We started slowly making our way home when we contracted some sort of flu. We arrived “home” travel worn and haggard, to discover that through a snafu our RV was not in it’s assigned spot (where we planned to stay the winter). Once that was straightened out, we unpacked, settled in … and then the storm came.
It came like a round of mortar fire, as scores of fist sized hailstones accompanied by thousands of smaller stones, pummeled our home. We’re OK. Car is totaled, we’re waiting on the adjuster to determine if the damage to the roof of the RV is repairable. Funny how your world can change in 15 minutes. For 15 years we’ve been full-time RVers. We’ve been through two floods, two fires, three “catastrophic” hail storms. Perhaps it’s time for a change.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that we’re very thankful that we’re all OK, nobody was injured. Glass repair will be out to replace the windshield on Friday, the RV repair guys will be out later today to patch the roof enough to keep rain from falling straight into the living room ;-), I got groceries delivered and everything will be alright, eventually.
Welcome fellow Spoonies and various other sentient beings to another episode of Magical Mundanities where a couple of retired Spoonies seek to find the magic in a mundane world.
We continued our stay in Oregon alongside the Willamette River. I did my daily yoga practice outside our Bungalow shortly after sunrise, while the air was still cool and dew-covered grass tickled my toes. Breakfast of oats with yogurt and fruit, followed by a walk along the river. I became enchanted by the antics of some garden snails and spent probably more time than I should have perched on the front step, tea in hand, watching their escapades.
This guy got his shell stuck for a few minutes but eventually wiggled his way down between the boards to cooler, shaded ground.
We took a trip out to the fish hatchery to watch the fingerling salmon practice fall jumping against the flow of the aerators. I find it so amazing that even at this tiny size (the fingerlings are less than two inches long at this point) they have that instinct to leap against the flow. Even though they are certainly not in a natural environment, natural instincts are definitely at play and I delight in their antics. Much of the rest of the hatchery is still closed to the public but all in all it was an entertaining afternoon.
In the afternoons, after the sun slid west enough to cast shade from the privacy fence, I went back outside to lay in the shade on a beach towel and listen to some vlogs I follow. While there I watched the progress of a “bleeding tooth” mushroom. So named for it’s white cap dotted with red spots. It reminds me of something Alice might have found in wonderland. Although not toxic, the mushroom is too bitter to be considered edible and, so far as I can tell, has no medicinal value. It was interesting to watch the red dots slowly grow and dissolve the entire cap in a matter of days.
Bleeding tooth mushrooms are beautiful. Creepy, but beautiful.
Impending smoke mixed with low cloud cover leads to declining air quality.
Alas, our relaxing three week idle was not to be. Lightning strikes ignited several more forest fires in the area and between the Bootleg and local minor fires, air quality began to plummet. Once it reached 150, we packed up and resumed our travels, rerouting as best we could. The Bootleg fire alone has already consumed over 413,000 acres of forest. It breaks my tree-hugging heart and I fear for the animals and birds. I fear for us all. It seems the entire western half of the US is on fire right now. Ah but that is a story for another time. Right now, there are still tiny moments of magic and beauty to be found along the way.
Give a listen to the Cottage Fairy, a fellow Oregonian, who relays the terror and hope of our current situation.
Welcome fellow Spoonies and various other sentient beings! Come in, grab your favorite cuppa and let’s visit a bit with Natalie at the Weekend Coffee Share and Terri at Sunday Stills. Our Sunday Stills prompt is “angle” and I found oh so many on our recent adventures.
Last week, we visited Mountain Home, Idaho and took a mini tour of Penny Alley which is a local alleyway that has been dedicated to dozens of urban murals in this tiny rural town. According to the local brochure “in 2016 a group of local artists came together to transform a nearly 320 foot stretch of alleyway in the city’s downtown into an outdoor art gallery featuring a collage of different works of art painted on the walls of local businesses.” We spent a sunny (yeah read that HOT!!!) morning walking the alley, snapping pics, and eating outdoors.
It’s business hours so a lot of this collage is blocked but still sooo worth the look. I can totally dig the wild angles in the dream catcher. Dude!
Adventure is out there!!! LOOK at all the angles in the mural, each sun ray had it’s own design. Plus, it’s purple … and pink! 🙂
I considered cropping this shot but wanted to keep the “OMG this is the alley of actual working businesses” feel. I like the lines of the bricks through the murals and the way the angles are broken up with curves and blending of the individual pictures in the mural.
I particularly love this. Maybe it’s the quote, I am a John Muir fan, or maybe it’s the scene, or maybe it’s the style. This shot is not pixelated, the rough “texture” is intentional. Up close it rather resembles one of those photos transferred to canvas texture. However it was done the result is much in keeping with the alley-feel. I shot this from a straight-on angle with my hinney squeezed up against the far alley wall, stupid camera phone. ;-p
After a long stroll we made our way back to the car through a little craft fair. It was fun to see the offerings. We returned to our hotel and spent the rest of the afternoon at the pool, splashing, relaxing and practicing that wonderous vacation ritual of napping. So many great angles in the rock water feature.
Hope you’re staying cool in your part of the world. We’re enduring another round of record breaking heat here in the west and midwest USA. To read a bit more about Spoonies and summer, check out Magical Mundanities Episode 3 –Summer Spoons.
WhimsyGizmo is our host for dVerse Quadrille. De being in Southern Nevada (ooohhh I’m sweating just thinking about it) has asked us for a poem of 44 words including “stream.” I am currently enjoying the relative cool of inland Oregon where streams, creeks, rivers, and lakes are abundant. Ahhhh … sigh. For your perusal, “Stream”
I hold a peach in my hand the sweet scent lifts my spirits with all the promise of summer blackberries growing wild sparkle like obsidian jewels in the dry summer sun plum butter rich and thick on a freshly-baked scone I close my eyes, the explosion of sensations color my spirit as I taste the gifts of Gaia catching a stray crumb with my tongue I sigh with gratitude and contentment thank you for the flavors thank you, thank you, thank you
Welcome fellow Spoonies and various other sentient beings to another episode of Magical Mundanities where this Spoonie seeks to find the magic in a mundane world.
After returning from a short trip to visit grandkids and wrap up pre-retirement details with the home office, we had three weeks to rest, recuperate, see doctors, repack our suitcases and pack up our tiny home for storage before heading out on the “big trip of being somewhere else.” This is the first significant road trip we’ve taken in several years.
We left South Dakota on a sunny day. The weather had been mostly hot and sunny for the weeks prior to our departure and we were looking forward to some cooler temps.
Spoonie travel requires some adjustments. We discovered early on that traveling by car is no less draining than travel by air, and it TAKES LONGER! Bear in mind that neither of us travels well these days, we’re out of shape. We took the drive in easy steps traversing no more than 350 miles of state highways per day. We stopped at virtually every roadside rest and touristy place along the way (aka restrooms).
We loosely followed the Oregon Trail most of the trip and picked up fascinating tidbits about the pioneers and their perils, as well as the Eisenhower Highway Act which connected this vast country. The story goes that when Eisenhower was a young Army officer, he participated in a cross country convoy from New York to California. The trek took 62 days and Eisenhower later wrote that this was when he first envisioned a cross country highway system.
The road was long, the journey arduous although certainly not a patch on what the pioneers or post WWI travelers must have gone through. Breaks became less frequent and fatigue crushed the mind, body and soul of these two spoonies. Wyoming holds many, many hundred miles of, well, nothing. At all. I have always said though that if you LOOK for beauty, you’ll find it. Above, during a brief break at an otherwise unremarkable rest area, thistles behind a dilapidated parking lot.
Finally after three days of bone crushing travel fatigue, we stopped for a two-night R&R in the little town of Mountain Home, Idaho. While there we took in some local sites like “Penny Alley” which encompasses an alley full of murals. More on that later.