You Never Forget Your First

So, it finally happened. Last Sunday Bill and I finally lost our virginity. They say it’s a rite of passage and was bound to happen eventually. We’d come close a few times, but somehow always managed to avoid it. No matter what others tell you about their own first time, nothing prepares you for the emotion of that moment. Or how it changes you forever.

After almost an hour of trying to back the RV into a very difficult spot, we hit a tree. Shaved the bark right off that sucker. The front door steps were crushed and probably need to be replaced, as well as the now crumpled skirt panel to the left of the steps.

Perpertrator

Then, in our haste to maneuver the RV away from the tree, we failed to see the large rocky outcrop just in front of it and nearly toppled her. Good times. 

Luckily, the damage was either superficial or easily fixed and covered by insurance. We had the back door steps, so we could get in and out of the thing. None of the damage effected the RV’s functionality, so we were able to live in it for the week and didn’t have to cancel our plans. Phew! 

Victim

Honestly, it was like we’d never done this before, and I think I know why. We’d become over confident. The last half dozen times we’d done this everything went so smoothly. Too smoothly. We got too cocky. 

And the last thing you ever want to do, when towing a 38 foot, 13k pound fifth wheel, is to get too cocky. Painful lesson learned. 

On a side note, two days later a series of macrobursts hit the area. We’d gone upstate for a little R&R, and it was one adventure after another. We spent three hours under a tornado watch. In the Catskills. That never, I repeat never, happens in that area. Crazy stuff. 

The campground owner made all the guests evacuate their campers and shelter in the rec hall. We got torrential rains, winds of 70+ mph and large hail. The road to the interstate was closed due downed trees and power lines, and the electricity was out everywhere. 

But just south of us got the worst of it. Poughkeepsie, New Paltz, Kingston, and especially Newburgh, got hit hard. There were reports of at least three tornadoes touching down. Newburgh got it the worst, though, resulting in three deaths. 

We had to live a day on battery power only. That means no TV, fireplace, microwave, etc. But who cares. Surprisingly, there was no damage to the truck or RV and we’re okay, so...

What a wild ride. 

And in spite of it all, it turned out to be a lovely week.

-Diane

Back In Baby's Arms

Today was the start of our first RV trip in far too long. Due to necessity, its a short trip into the restorative woods of the Catskills, but after so much time and all that's happened in that time, it feels miraculous. There were times we thought it might never happen. Many things were the cause of our delay. They were unavoidable things, but now that we're back at it, it's hard to image being away for so long.

It all started last March (2016). We were finishing up a month long trip to New Orleans and then Pensacola Beach. Two days before we were scheduled to head home we got an early morning call that my Mom was sick and in the hospital. We packed up, unhooked, and hitched-up in record time, and made a mad dash for the nearest campground to Staten Island, NY - where I grew up and where my parents still live. A marathon drive and 48 hours later we landed at Liberty State Park Campground in Jersey City, NJ. 

Seriously, it's criminal that they are allowed to call that a campground. Hands down its the worst RV Park in the world. It was nothing more than a poorly maintained parking lot with hookups, in a dangerous neighborhood, in the middle of a construction zone, surrounded by high-rises. But it served its purpose being only a 20 minute drive to my parents. 

We stayed there two days, visited Mom, assessed the situation, returned the RV to her Upstate storage spot, and then returned to our home in Long Island. And the next 14 months were a non-stop cluster-puck, with one crises after another with seemingly no end in sight. 

Due to a series of UTI infections complicated by several C-diff infections, Mom was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes repeatedly between March 2016 and September 2016. All the while, my father's and my mother-in-law's health were also declining. As a result, Bill and I became the full-time managers of their health and the lives of all three, and remain so. 

After extensive testing, we learned Mom had a golf-ball sized, badly infected kidney stone. She had surgery to remove it on January 3, 2017. By this time we had aides in place for my parents. The same level of care we'd had in place for my mother-in-law for the past year. And by the the end of January 2017 things seemed to be calming down and were under control enough for us to book our planned March trip to Utah. 

And then, in a freak accident, on January 31st, I injured both my ankles. I know, right? You're asking yourself, "Both ankles? "How the hell did she do that? Me too! This is how...

My father had fallen in front of his house. He lay helpless in the street. As I rushed down the front steps of his house to help him, I slipped and fell. I landed very badly. I did not fall forward, as you would expect. Somehow, instead, I came crashing down feet-first, dislocating and breaking both the tibia and fibula in my left my ankle, and chipping the bone in and badly spraining my right ankle. 

Fortunately, the 84 year-old popped up unharmed like one of those blow-up punching clowns from my youth. The 54 year-old, not so much. I was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. I had surgery the next afternoon on my left ankle and spent 4 days in the hospital, and the next five months in rehab. 

And I'm still not fully recovered. As we speak, I can't walk without a cane and stairs are challenging, and I wonder if I'll ever be right again. But, I will not let this stop me from living my life to the fullest. 

And so I find myself finally, happily, in the bucolic woods of Upstate New York. Not only are we finally back where we belong, in the place that makes us happiest, but I'm writing again. As is apparent by this long past due blog post. They say home is where the heart is. Well, our hearts are transient. They live within the walls of this "vehicle" - as my Mom calls it. And we are delighted to let go and allow it to take us where ever it will...

-Diane 

Long Time No Blog

How do I explain why I've been missing in action for so long, when the events that kept me away have little to do with the reason for this blog - RVing?

Turns out, once I sat down to write this, it was easier than I thought. The truth is, everything has to do with our RVing, or our desire to be RVing, or the things that prevent us from RVing. That's because we are always dreaming about it and planning it. But you know what they say, "We plan. God laughs."

And so went this last year. We planned and God laughed. Over and over.

My mother got sick last March. We had to cut our last trip short and rush home to care for her. I'll spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say, every time we thought she was getting better, she wasn't. It became all consuming leaving little time or energy for anything else. She was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes with seemingly no solution and no good end in site. Until there was. Until that one doctor finally listened. Until someone who had the power to help did.

She had surgery in early January 2017 and is getting stronger every day. But just as she was finding her way back to her old self, allowing us to feel it was safe to consider hitting the road, some dumbass (that'd be me) slipped on the steps breaking her left ankle and spraining her right one. The broken ankle required surgery. That was seven weeks ago. I'm one week into my rehab and won't be up and walking for another month at least.

But we are still dreaming and planning. Seeing no need to take any chances, we crossed our fingers and toes, knocked on wood, lit a candle to St. Jude and St. Christopher, and moved our timeline up yet again. And when we do finally head out on our next adventure, of course, we will take you along for the ride. Assuming you're still out there. And if you are, my sincerest thanks for sticking around.

-Diane

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog. The last two and half months have been a blur of activity, and there just wasn’t any time. A few days before we were due to return home from our last trip we got a call that my Mom was sick. We packed up, broke down in record time, and made a mad two-day dash back to NY. It feels like I’m just now coming up for air. 

Nana (Bill's Mom)

Bill’s Mom is 97. My Dad is 83 and Mom is 80. All have health problems. Bill’s Mom lives at home, but has aides that take beautiful care of her. Until a few months ago, my parents were mostly still independent. Dad has mobility issues, but he can get around on his own. Mom, in spite of her apparent memory issues, had few limitations. All that has changed. After ten days in the hospital and seven weeks in a nursing home, she came home two weeks ago. She is making slow progress, but needs assistance with everything. As a result, we have 12 hours per day of aide care in place. I don’t expect her to make a full recovery and know that their lives as they knew it is over. That means mine, as I knew it, is also. 

We haven’t been doing this long, but the few times we’ve hit the road for any considerable length of time, the thought that something like this could happen was always in the back of our minds. Now it’s more than just a fear. It’s a reality. So what now? How do we balance our desire to travel with the needs of our aging parents? More importantly, how do we do it without feeling guilty? 

Maybe we don’t. Maybe we just don’t go. Maybe we just can’t. Then again, maybe we have to anyhow. Maybe it would be a mistake to put our dreams on hold. After all, life is so short. But that takes me back to how. How do we find a way to do both? Be there for our parents and fulfill our RV dreams. 

Mom and Dad

My parents would be the first to say, “Go!” When Mom got sick they insisted that we not come home early. But really, there was no chance that was going to happen. There was no way we could have stayed and enjoyed ourselves. So, now that things are the way they are, how do we go in the future and enjoy ourselves? 

We’re thinking of Southern Utah next May. Five weeks away from home. If we go, and something happens, will we be able to forgive ourselves? But, if we don’t go, will we be able to forgive ourselves? Round and round it goes...

-Diane

Food Karma

We’d visited the historical sights. We’d admired the architecture. We’d seen the devastation in the ninth ward. We toured the unique graveyards. We’d explored the narrow and charming streets of the French Quarter. We’d listened to Jazz on a steamboat, in the clubs and on the street – even lucked upon a Jazz wedding as it passed by. We drank Dark N’ Stormies, Hurricanes and fell in love with Abita Amber, the local brew. New Orleans has so much to offer and we took it all in with relish.

However, if we had to choose a favorite thing, which is pretty much like choosing a favorite child, it would be the food. No matter how inexpensive or upscale, we never had a bad meal. We loved it all. And me, I loved it just a wee bit more. You see, there is this thing that happens to me with freakish regularity. I never get my meal as I order it. Not ever. No matter how simple or basic, it comes out of the kitchen with something amiss. Even when ordered from the menu without changes. Ask Bill. He’ll tell you. It’s simply bizarre. I think it might be some bad karma from a past life coming back to bite me. But in New Orleans my food curse was finally broken.

 The Ruby Slipper’s eggs came with a buttermilk biscuit the size of my head, stone ground grits and fried green tomatoes. It was the south on plate. Joey K’s red rice and beans was damned close to the homemade version a long ago boyfriend, Adam from Mobile, once made me – his Momma’s recipe. The Joint’s BBQ brisket melted in my mouth. NOLA Po’ Boys’ crawfish po’ boy was heaven on a cloud of bread. Court of the Two Sisters’ filet mignon was cooked to perfection and possibly the best I’ve ever had. The Mississippi River Bottom’s fried catfish platter was light and crisp and a delight on the tongue. And every delectable morsel came to the table just the way I asked for it. For me, that was priceless and elevated my experience from satisfying and enjoyable to rapturous pleasure.

It remains to be seen if this curse is truly broken, if this trend will continue beyond the Big Easy, but either way, the Crescent City will always hold a special place in my culinary heart.

-Diane

Uneasy Start in The Big Easy

We made it to New Orleans from the Catskills Mountains in just over two days. We arrived so early on the third day that after setting up we still had the whole day in front of us.

We stayed at the French Quarter RV Park located, as its name indicates, just blocks from the border of the French Quarter off Basin Street. The park itself is quite nice. Securely enclosed inside four walls, it is quaintly decorated and the staff is friendly and helpful providing concierge services including calling a cab, making diner reservations or booking a city tour. But as we were to find out, the surrounding area can be a bit iffy.

Using the map provide by the staff, we decided to take a stroll into the Quarter to see what we could see and get a bite to eat. However, due to deficiencies in the map and our map reading skills, we took a wrong turn and found ourselves in a very unsavory neighborhood. We quickly became lost and by the time we found our way back to the RV park we were a little shaken up.

So we decide to cab it instead. We dined on oysters and BBQ shrimp at Deanie's Seafood then wondered into Jackson Square. Here we enjoyed the Jazz stylings of Satchmo incarnate and, on a whim, jumped on the Natchez Steamboat and took an evening cruise down the mighty Mississippi. Not too shabby for our first day and, aside from an uneasy start, a foreshadowing of the delightful days to come.

-Diane

The Truck Stops Here

We were headed south to New Orleans. Our goal was to be there in three days. So on this - only our second long-term trip - for the first time, we opted to stay overnight at truck stops. It's an inexpensive and convenient time saver. You just park, eat, shower, sleep and go.

The first leg of our journey was a 600 mile, ten hour drive from Saugerties, NY to Wytheville, VA. We stayed at Love's Travel Stop. We arrived just as the last sliver of sunlight was disappearing in the sky. This location is large and busy with 140 parking spaces. We felt intimated and a bit out of our element. The lot was not full to capacity and we parked in a pull-thru with empty spaces on both sides. We hoped it would stay that way, but before long we were tightly nestled between two idling semis. It was a bit noisy but the low hum of the engines did not disturb our sleep. The only food options were Subway or Chester's Chicken. We went with the chicken. We put off showering until morning. In the morning we decided to put it off until our next stop for expediency's sake and because we felt a bit uncomfortable.

Another 600 miles, ten hours, and a time change later we landed at a TA Travel Center in Meridian, MS with daylight to spare. We immediately preferred this truck stop to the last. The parking area was easier to navigate, there was a nice diner attached to the store, and the showers were on the second floor along with a game room. It was a more inviting atmosphere all around. We enjoyed a delicious and relaxed meal at the Country Pride restaurant, showered and settle in feeling refreshed and at ease. Again, we had a semi one either side, but slept just fine.

All of the truck/travel stops have food and showers. The showers are available to anyone for a fee, which vary by stop. The food options also vary and can be very limited. However, the TA/Petro stops are consistent with either a Country Pride or Iron Skillet restaurant providing a sit-down experience with a full menu. The TA showers were full bathrooms with plenty of room to change and a good-sized walk in shower. They were clean and secure and even included bar soap and fresh towels. At the top of the list of things I thought I'd never say, "I took a truck stop shower - and I liked it!" The fee was $13 per person and worth every penny.

We will be using truck stops again in the future. We have yet to stay at any Flying J's or Pilots and would like to do so. However, based on our limited experience, will seek out the TA/Petro Travel Centers when possible.

-Diane