tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405844958770883812024-03-13T18:58:49.205-04:00On The Road With George And MaureenWelcome to our blog! Come and join us on what we hope will be interesting and exciting adventures. Having enjoyed camping with our children decades earlier, we dreamed of revisiting favorite state and national parks as well as new destinations across the country, although this time it wouldn't involve setting up a tent or sleeping in our 1970 VW bus. In 2008, we purchased a travel trailer (more on that later).George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-30868691194458001502010-07-24T01:13:00.003-04:002010-08-30T00:39:45.506-04:00In Memorium: Goodbye Rocky, it was great knowing you...While working on my promised update to our BLOG, tragedy occurred:<br />
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(From my post on the RV.Net Pets Forum)<br />
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Our faithful little Australian Terrier was put to sleep this morning. I feel like my heart's been ripped out. I know that you dog lovers will understand.<br />
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We began our cross-country, 1-year RV adventure on December 31st, 2009. Of our little group, Rocky was the most enthusiastic. Calling him our "Road Dog," Rocky quickly settled into every segment of our trip. He was at his happiest when he was with us (is it wrong to bend the truth a little and call your pet a "service dog" so that he can ride that bus or enter that store with you? After all, he did wake you several times from a possible fatal sleep apnea event, didn't he?). <br />
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He was also content to sit and wait for our return, even if it took hours. All I had to tell him was, "Watch the house, Rocky, we'll be right back." Whenever we returned from food shopping, he would sing his special "food song," knowing that we always brought him home a special snack, especially his favorite leftovers: scrambled eggs and bacon from Cracker Barrel. <br />
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He had a "bad back event" in February, which kept him in the hospital for 4 days and gained me a new scar on the back of my hand; one which I'll now treasure. The vet told us that his displaced disks were back in place for the moment, after a run to the end of his lead at our campground to challenge a dog 3 times his size, which flipped him into the air and down hard on the ground, but we should ensure that he did no more jumping. We may of well told the sun not to shine.<br />
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His back went "out" again last night. I walked the park with him for hours, trying to help him escape his pain. Every few steps were punctuated with a scream that must have told the entire park of his suffering. When I ran out of energy I tied him up and sat nearby, watching him pace back and forth, back and forth, crying out and trying to bite the place on his back that was causing so much pain.<br />
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We sat there until daylight, when I had made up my mind to end his suffering. I've had to do this 8 times during the past 45 years and have died a little each time I held my beloved dogs as their life quickly slid away following the vet's injection. I cried like a baby every time, without embarassment. I did this time, too. Maybe more then ever before.<br />
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My wife and I have decided that Rocky will be our last dog, a decision we have made several times in the past. I think that we'll keep the promise this time, though, since, as my wife reminded me that, at this time of our life, we've started saying our last goodbyes to family and friends and will soon enough have to face each other's death... We've seen enough of death for now...<br />
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And for now I'll have to content myself with an affectionate hug and hello for every dog that I meet. Rocky, it was good to know you.<br />
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Love,<br />
George and MaureenGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-42467261907154139322010-05-01T22:40:00.000-04:002010-05-01T22:40:04.416-04:00Finally Back On LineWell, we've been to Fort Lauderdale, Miami, the Florida Keys, back to Fort Lauderdale, and now we're in Sarasota, waiting until the 3rd and a doctor appointment I have. Why no posts up till now? Because we've had really spotty to non-existant WiFi service.<br />
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In addition, my netbook picked up some weird keyboard problem that caused a chain reaction of help files: multiple help files would open until system memory was exhausted and the netbook crashed. More on this later.<br />
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We've got lots of stories to tell you and I'll be working on them over the next few days. Please check back often.<br />
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GeorgeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-19051931555547627952010-03-28T18:42:00.006-04:002010-03-29T14:31:34.570-04:00The Naples KOA; Lots of Fun and a Great Location<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7zvqE14LGWVH9g03-A9BKChtR9z3rLOgLn0MvuYTCbvF6_zf7g97JAhmG2Nb9C3aXnZeWv7MHIKpvmrw4Te8lkOZmeGs2mtzKKL0e2NQgLdAkyfiId0XfgaC1ls0_9JEpDHl2Ur66RUu/s1600/IMG_2489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7zvqE14LGWVH9g03-A9BKChtR9z3rLOgLn0MvuYTCbvF6_zf7g97JAhmG2Nb9C3aXnZeWv7MHIKpvmrw4Te8lkOZmeGs2mtzKKL0e2NQgLdAkyfiId0XfgaC1ls0_9JEpDHl2Ur66RUu/s320/IMG_2489.JPG" /></a></div>As we near end of our stay at the Naples KOA, we feel sadness as we watch some of our new friends packing up or already gone, heading back north for Easter at home. When I was ill, people that I hardly new would drop by to check up on me. One fellow RVer had hoped to set up a kayak flotilla; something that we weren't able to pull off, in part because of me and my stones. Maybe next year. <br />
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The cabin people keep arriving and going, some for a weekend and others for just a day. Each new day sees fewer and fewer neighbors as our "backyard" expands, spreading outward to include the empty RV sites that now surround us.<br />
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We have been very lucky concerning this park. We arrived on the 1st of March without a reservation. Having made plans to meet some non-RV'ing friends from New York and California while in Naples, we hoped to get at least 2 weeks at an RV park in Naples or Marco Island. The Naples KOA was the first RV resort we tried after driving down I-75 from Tampa, our last port of call. Located at 1700 Barefoot Williams Road, it had an intriguing address and was close to both Naples Old Town and Marco Island. We're glad we gave it a chance. It's been very nice.<br />
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After 2 months of bad weather and some unpleasant experiences in Tampa, we were ready for change. <br />
We immediately liked what we saw; an older park, but well kept, with a nice pool, and clean laundry room and bathrooms with private showers, all of which met our immediate needs. What we didn't expect was the friendliness of the staff and visitors. <br />
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From the start, we were greeted by nearly everyone; always invited to join them at their table during events and questioned about ourselves and our plans. We couldn't go for a walk without meeting someone along the way to stop and chat with. Of course, it takes two to start a conversation and we did go out of our way to be friendly. It's more about how other people respond to you; whether they just nod and go on their way, or stop and talk. In this resort, most people act as friends, which of course some of them are after coming here for years, but they also act his way with new arrivals. <br />
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We're planning to return next year; perhaps February and March. We love the KOA's proximity to local beaches, resturants and the <a href="http://www.frommers.com/destinations/naplesfla/0399010001.html">Old Town in Naples</a>, which is a great place to stroll through and gawk at the many shops and their wealthy clientele, or to eat at one of the many fine resturants. We recommend McCabes on 5th Avenue. It looks like a beautiful English pub inside and has, like many eating establishments in town, tables outside to sit, eat and watch the Gucci's walk by. McCabe's puts on a terrific St. Patrick's Day celebration each year, with corned beef and cabbage and live Irish music. And don't miss a walk, drive or bicycle ride along Gulf Boulevard. 12th street west will give you access to the pier (see photo below, taken from the beach), always a great place to go, especially at sunset. Gulf Blvd's beautiful homes will knock your socks off and every block has a westside street that includes metered parking and an access to some of the most beautiful Gulf beaches we've ever seen. Just remember to bring lots of quarters to feed the parking meters. 2 bucks will buy you just an hour and 20 minutes.<br />
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Just outside of the KOA, you'll find WalMart and Publix shopping centers located on Colliers Blvd or on Rte. 41/Tamiani Trail. Check the <a href="http://www.napleskoa.com/">Naples KOA's website</a> for other local attractions.<br />
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Till next time, when we'll be in Miami and Fort Lauderdale.George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-72923366568306303902010-03-26T12:10:00.004-04:002010-03-26T19:51:33.835-04:00IMHO: The Price Of Freedom Includes Checking Your Sources...It used to be that the news was presented by "talking heads;" good-looking people with nice smiles and the ability to read from a script or teleprompter. They might smile when presenting a humorous or touching story and look sad when the story warranted it, but one thing that they never did was to take sides. No matter what their personal feelings might be, they were expected to remain stoic and unopinionated.<br />
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One of the best at this was Walter Cronkite. He was many peoples' idea of the ideal father, grandfather, or kindly, wise and respected uncle. Or even a national leader. As one of the most famous and respected american newsmen of the 20th century, Walter was so highly regarded that many people wished that he would run for the Presidency. To his credit, he never did.<br />
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Every night and during special events, families would crowd around their radios and televisions, listening as Walter described some of the most important moments in this country's history, whether it was the Cuban Missile Crisis or man's first landing on the moon. Throughout the decades that Walter presented the news, he remained stately and neutral to what he was announcing. The only time that I know he showed much emotion was the day he reported the assasination of President John F. Kennedy. Walter became choked up, removed his glasses and through obviously teary eyes, looked directly into the camera and told us about the murder of who many believed was one of our most beloved Presidents.<br />
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After the news was presented, we, the viewing or listening public, were on our own in interpreting what we had been told. Whatever your social position, education, party affiliation, or religion, it was up to you to take what you had been told and fit it into your belief system. You were free to decide whether what you had been told was true or not and whether it was important to your life or could be safely ignored.<br />
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During the last few decades of the 20th century, someone (probably one of the mysterious "they" that we're always hearing about; as in, <em>they</em> said this or that, or <em>they</em> decided that we should all do this or that...) determined that we, the listening public, having become much more stupid than usual and therefore not trusted to make up our own minds about what we had just learned from the news media, needed our news massaged by <em>them</em> in order to make it easier to understand (or manipulate their audience to meet the needs of some special interest group).<br />
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Therefore, as a <em>public service</em>, the news media decided to do our thinking for us. Talking heads became conveyors not only of <em>what</em> had happened, but also whether it was a <em>good</em> or <em>bad</em> thing from the narrow perspective that they had decided to represent. News stations have become competing; if not outright, <em>enemy</em> camps. You can now get your news already digested and neatly packaged to fit your particular view of reality. Stations can now not only be classified as "Blue" or "Red," reflecting the Democratic or Republican Party's positions on various issues, but can be as liberal dark blue or conservative fiery red as you want them. <br />
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Today the news might even be one station reporting on another station's activities. "Spinning" the news to better match a station's assumed demographic viewership is the norm now. The talking heads have become the stars of the news industry, with hyperbole and sensationalism encouraged by their management and expected by their avid viewers. Stations and their star reporters are denigrated by the other stations' stars as being too liberal, or too conservative, or too much of whatever other weakness their writers have decided might be newsworthy or, as often seems to be the case, more controversial. <br />
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I, for one, like to consume news that is unadulterated. And, while I do have my own biases, I try not to let them rule my life. The first question I often ask myself after hearing a questionable news report is, "What does the other side have to say about this?" or even "How is the foreign press reporting this?" With the internet, none of us has any excuse for not checking our sources before we decide to condemn or praise a news story or the personality that it reports on. <br />
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Internet sites like "<a href="http://snopes.com/">snopes.com</a>" and the like analyze news reports and present the facts about what actually happened. Foreign news web sites also provide another view of things and often provide information not deemed "newsworthy" by American news agencies. It often amazes me to learn just how twisted some of our news is. Today's virtuous heroes are next week's jackasses and the next month's esteemed insiders who are asked to tell the viewing public (for a large pile of money) the "truth" about that month's controversial news story or personality. It can make your head spin.<br />
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The bottom line is that none of us has the need for someone else to do our thinking for us. Don't be lazy. Question everything. <em>Trust no one</em>...<br />
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To give yourself some more to think about and learn how fear is used to control us, try:<br />
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<em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0465003362/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=04TZM1ESJTNNJMG6ENA2&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Culture of Fear: Why Americans Are Afraid of the Wrong Things: Crime, Drugs, Minorities, Teen Moms, Killer Kids, Mutant Microbes, Plane Crashes, Road Rage, & So Much More</span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">, </span></em><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Barry Glassner, available at Amazon.com. In the age of 9/11, the Iraq War, financial collapse, and Amber Alerts, our society is defined by fear. So it’s not surprising that three out of four Americans say they feel more fearful today then they did twenty years ago. But are we living in exceptionally dangerous times? In The Culture of Fear, sociologist Barry Glassner demonstrates that it is our perception of danger that has increased, not the actual level of risk. Glassner exposes the people and organizations that manipulate our perceptions and profit from our fears, including advocacy groups that raise money by exaggerating the prevalence of particular diseases and politicians who win elections by heightening concerns about crime, drug use, and terrorism. In this new edition of a classic book—more relevant now than when it was first published—Glassner exposes the price we pay for social panic. (<em>taken from Editorial Reviews, Amazon.com</em>)</span><br />
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Till next timeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-44523312558051204292010-03-26T11:43:00.002-04:002010-03-26T18:52:24.234-04:00On The Road With The Rolling StonesFor those of you who have been worrying about me (I know that you must be out there somewhere - just kidding, thanks for your kind messages), I'm happy to report that I'm feeling much better, having had the sonic cannon lithroscopy and, several days later, having passed the broken remains of the stones that were blocking my right kidney, or kidneys (See "<a href="http://ontheroadwithgeorgeandmaureen.blogspot.com/2010/03/man-with-three-kidneys.html">The Man With Three Kidneys</a>").<br />
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Still having some tenderness in my kidney area and right side, Dr. Luke ordered up a special CAT scan to find out if there was anything else wrong in there. Thankfully, the doc reported that everything looks well and that they all wished they had kidneys as healthy as mine. I wasn't sure that I could believe him, since no one has come forward and offered to buy that 3rd kidney (Or trade; I'll consider a swap for a Ford 250 pick-up). As for that oddity, Dr. Luke says it's not that unusual at all (then why did it take 65 years for me to hear about "duplex kidneys;" as in MINE?).<br />
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I am now drinking 5 gallons of water every day (actually just 3 or 4 liters) and am forbidden to eat much of everything that I used to enjoy. But, if it prevents the return of the "Rolling Stones*," I am more than just willing to cooperate. They are so painful that anyone who hasn't experienced them CANNOT imagine how much they hurt. <br />
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*No, not Mick and company, I still love them (although they are looking more and more like somebody's weird old aunties...) and I'd still be one of their Roadies anytime.<br />
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Well, stay hydrated and maybe I'll see you down the road someday,<br />
GeorgeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-75368406492895682262010-03-19T21:42:00.009-04:002010-05-03T20:35:16.560-04:00The Man With Three KidneysMy intent for this blog was to document our adventures as we traveled around the United States. These "adventures" have included stories about our pets, the places we have visited, our neighbors, amusing stories from our past, and not-so-pleasant events in the daily lives of many RVers. This latter category has included stories about me getting sick while on the road. <br />
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I did struggle with whether stories about my health even belonged in a blog about full-time RVng. But then I realized that fulltime RVng includes the whole enchilada, as they say.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">"We arrived in San Antonio today. It was sunny and hot. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We had dinner at Pedro's Authentic Northern Italian Restaurant."* </div><br />
Accurate, but boring. Wouldn't most people like to know that you spent the night with your head in the toilet, all the while cursing Pedro? But then I worried that people would tire of stories about me getting ill, or lost, two things that I seem to be doing a lot of lately. Well, I replied to myself, people get sick while staying at 5-star hotels, too, don't they? And isn't concern about one's health something that some people have to factor into their decision to start, or even continue, fulltiming?<br />
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During the past 2 and a half months, my wife and I have had our share of illnesses; OURS as in MINE and Rocky's, my dog. Those events have stressed our pocketbooks and our determination to continue our adventure. Well, mostly Maureen's determination. "Take me to a hotel!" "Take me home!" and "Enough is enough!" have been heard frequently during our time on the road. I can't criticize her for her feelings, since who wants to live in a home the size of our last master bathroom with a sick husband and a pain-crazed dog? ...Or was that a sick dog and a pain-crazed husband?<br />
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But we're still out here, letting God and the interstate road system take us where it or He may. I mean, afterall, I got sick when we were living in our sticks-n-bricks home right? And I didn't give up and say, "That's it! We're going RVng!" Did I? Well no, but one wouldn't normally think that way...<br />
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The point is, stuff is going to happen when you go fulltiming, as it does while leading a more conventional lifestyle while living in a house, a condo, an apartment, or even a yurt (look it up; I can't do all of the work here, you know). And, unless you have a disorder that requires unusual and frequent treatment by a specialist, there are fine doctors and hospitals all over our country. And, if worse comes to worse, we're all no more than a half day's flight from home or a somewhat reluctant relative, right? And there's always someone who can can drive the RV home... for a price.<br />
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As I explained to Maureen the other day, if I am going to be sick, there's no place I'd rather be than right here with you and Rocky, in our RV in this beautiful place, surrounded by friendly neighbors, all of whom were probably strangers up until a day or so ago. And I don't have to worry about cutting the grass or shoveling the sidewalk, either.<br />
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My latest adventure; no, that's not fair, since everything that happens to me also affects Maureen - OUR latest adventure began during our second week at the Naples KOA. We'd been having a great time attending the various activities and conversing with new friends from all over the country (Well okay; mostly Canadians). I began having a nagging pain in my back, centered over my kidney. I became less and less able to find a comfortable way to sit or lie down. As the pain worsened, we began to suspect that my right-hand kidney was involved. I had a similar event in January while further north at Bay Bayou, but it was less specifically located and faded away after a week or so. This time, there might as well of been a bullseye painted on my back right over the kidney with a bunch of cute cupids shooting arrows into me. We quickly decided that it was time to go to the ER at the regional hospital on Collier boulevard just a few miles from the KOA.<br />
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After an EKG, CAT scan, blood and urine analysis, we were referred to Doctor Luke, a local Urologist, who we were able to see the next day. By then, the radiologist's report was in from the CAT scan. It said that I had 4 medium-size stones lodged in my right kidney. Well, that explained the increasingly excruciating pain I was experiencing. I went back home to our RV in considerable, squirming around, groaning, calling on God for relief kind of pain. I was scheduled for sonic blasting the following morning. For the squeamish, there's no cutting involved, just full anesthesia and a howitzer-sized sonic cannon that pulverizes what ever pebbles, stones, or boulders may have grown in your kidneys or their associated plumbing. <br />
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The anesthesia is the most modern type, where one moment you're chatting with an OR nurse and the next you're waking up in recovery. I've been told that this type of anesthesia allows the surgical staff to keep you awake, but unfeeling, so that they can question you about things; like what's your position on the national health care question. Answer wrong and you get bigger stitches and and they do funny things with your privates while the staff poses and someones takes pictures. It must be hilarious. For them.<br />
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Seriously, it's a painless procedure. At least until you wake up in recovery with 6 nurses holding you down in your bed while you scream for your mommy. Just kidding, my nurse told me that it only took 2 of them to restrain me. At one point (it was nearly closing time), my wife was brought in to help the nursing staff. Since my procedure was complicated by the need to inject dye into my urethra (I could have said weenie) through a garden hose stuck up my weenie, I was in additional (as in tremendous) post-op pain. Maureen's job was to keep me from grabbing at my weenie, which felt like it was lined with razor blades. <br />
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Well, I'm home and recuperating, hoping that my adventures in the medical side of RVng are over ... for a while, anyway. Oh, what's with my title for this post? I thought you'd never ask. The urologist discovered that I have a THIRD KIDNEY! WHAAAT? A THIRD KIDNEY? Yup, a third kidney. Known as a <a href="http://radiopaedia.org/articles/duplex_kidney">duplex kidney</a>, mine was completely blocked by one of the stones the urologist blasted. As soon as I learned of my "gift," I checked eBay. Being just my luck, there's no real market for it. Maybe I could join a carnival; "The Man With 3 Kidneys!"<br />
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(BTW, I don't think that there's any such restaurant as Pedro's Authentic Northern Italian, but, just in case there is, sorry, Pedro, I'm sure your food is just great)George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-51122244079578923772010-03-10T21:31:00.003-05:002010-03-10T22:59:13.896-05:00Marco Island, Southwest FloridaAfter our initial surveilance drive around on Marco Island, we decided to take the bikes back today and get a closer look. It was a gorgeous day, with highs in the upper 70s. Marco Island is a beautiful place. It's on our favorites list now.<br />
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I finally got a chance to hitch the bike carrier, usually plugged into the short receiver in the back of the trailer, into the trailer hitch on the SUV. It works much better there; very stable and rigid. My plan was to use the bike carrier on the trailer during travel and then move it to the SUV when we reach our destination and want to go out and explore nearby cities and places of interest. Being on a bicycle gains you access to many areas where you couldn't normally go. <br />
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Based on our experiences today, this arrangement of the bike carrier on the SUV should work very well. I'm still not happy with the way the bike carrier works on the back of the trailer though; it sags too much. I've been taking weight off the hitch and relieving some of the sagging by tying the carrier up to the trailer's spare tire carrier. Not the perfect solution, but nothing has fallen off yet and I haven't pulled the spare off the back wall of the trailer yet either (thank God). Someday I'll have to take the rig to a local welder and get some structural support added to the arrangement.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3w-5_ogcalpVzVYLsgfZq-x6_CqGTObQZHMALzLoc1sqSM7LhftGMz5iSQM62GTjtQY4ItF3YgN6cWRdV_2UvFFAKc7UfC-LRaV7tImssK4Anrg66EQh9CsZ6m7IxAMuKR0bWtntA6Znp/s1600-h/IMG_2477.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3w-5_ogcalpVzVYLsgfZq-x6_CqGTObQZHMALzLoc1sqSM7LhftGMz5iSQM62GTjtQY4ItF3YgN6cWRdV_2UvFFAKc7UfC-LRaV7tImssK4Anrg66EQh9CsZ6m7IxAMuKR0bWtntA6Znp/s320/IMG_2477.JPG" vt="true" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mo at one of the two public parks we found on Marco Island. This one is a marina/boat launching park with beautiful views of the water and canalside homes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4dGOnqYMHd2ArEOfuBVqJ0G3it_tfaInZ5cVwaBrcpl-1i8K3FJSAvS_biV4s58vclf_wE9LF75FtWIF_zg0xybzwQBiSjaZLrX_i2qcOpi56WIQ-5pwcoyCzV7UfkTr_kK5InNqzDtQ/s1600-h/IMG_2472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4dGOnqYMHd2ArEOfuBVqJ0G3it_tfaInZ5cVwaBrcpl-1i8K3FJSAvS_biV4s58vclf_wE9LF75FtWIF_zg0xybzwQBiSjaZLrX_i2qcOpi56WIQ-5pwcoyCzV7UfkTr_kK5InNqzDtQ/s320/IMG_2472.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hi Maureen!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV50vM2DIXKAHfQf0ENaqfadToQs1R8WBHDDGADU9JqD18Asx7c-Xo-QXd8-5mS7tk54rMwwAJ7r_gtwxzKH6b0Wd9HrvrX9KDq6TnzX_pr1C2qcZ_SVy6wjYlBxc_wfxQhlUPc0EsMK_/s1600-h/IMG_2475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV50vM2DIXKAHfQf0ENaqfadToQs1R8WBHDDGADU9JqD18Asx7c-Xo-QXd8-5mS7tk54rMwwAJ7r_gtwxzKH6b0Wd9HrvrX9KDq6TnzX_pr1C2qcZ_SVy6wjYlBxc_wfxQhlUPc0EsMK_/s320/IMG_2475.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've got to get my kayak off the SUV's roof and into the water!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKf3Q6WKXVvNIwB1enGS9A6d3rVJEnHfZrqG0-rRTdScc-AXg3uPr-GZAMymjzlNlu2Ei2GPFytLwZSm7UVUoa2HlImvjeKtmPsi2ZlxT_2bMkMy5olfgz5-hdeJX1Jpq3LcVEg96mLaHe/s1600-h/IMG_2481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKf3Q6WKXVvNIwB1enGS9A6d3rVJEnHfZrqG0-rRTdScc-AXg3uPr-GZAMymjzlNlu2Ei2GPFytLwZSm7UVUoa2HlImvjeKtmPsi2ZlxT_2bMkMy5olfgz5-hdeJX1Jpq3LcVEg96mLaHe/s320/IMG_2481.JPG" vt="true" width="210" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mo on the beach at a public beach access point (We found two along Collier, but just try to find somewhere nearby to park!). After a two-slice lunch with raspberry ice teas at Joey's Pizza and Pasta House (now our favorite italian food spot), we attempted to nonchalantly bicycle into the very beautiful and, as it turned out, very private, for residents-only beach park on Collier Avenue. We didn't get past the guardbooth before being stopped and asked to leave. Jeez! We were just going to look around! These Marco Islanders do guard their privacy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdF-P6gFwp2CyaOTLQGSXJwkrIwhTE_L8PnP9h40p0Wh3fqDYmE4vOCCGs1-ONwWmVgXsFbapeAgzTCL5-8Mc_4NqbkJVXggIKGOigZEbf9RVZ-sVKtQkpd1x3kMkNPkY-QJZAPiZG6KIC/s1600-h/IMG_2482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdF-P6gFwp2CyaOTLQGSXJwkrIwhTE_L8PnP9h40p0Wh3fqDYmE4vOCCGs1-ONwWmVgXsFbapeAgzTCL5-8Mc_4NqbkJVXggIKGOigZEbf9RVZ-sVKtQkpd1x3kMkNPkY-QJZAPiZG6KIC/s320/IMG_2482.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking south along the beach. The photo doesn't do the color of the pale aqua-marine water justice. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tpk8g-m4TFc1LFQTZZVfIg_wDa5yZwZjPBEHkb6L9eQ8OvmcX7nbBKsP4lNzSt0fqcARTixKAGb48QbbbBN8xlfR1MjGddlghr_S3l7KCbQ5rR3vXFM8_X7u7to_X5iCqCzgvWyRB1_v/s1600-h/IMG_2487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tpk8g-m4TFc1LFQTZZVfIg_wDa5yZwZjPBEHkb6L9eQ8OvmcX7nbBKsP4lNzSt0fqcARTixKAGb48QbbbBN8xlfR1MjGddlghr_S3l7KCbQ5rR3vXFM8_X7u7to_X5iCqCzgvWyRB1_v/s320/IMG_2487.JPG" vt="true" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Taking a different kind of break; Gin and Tonics at a beachside hotel bar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hqq8F7nWufXRe4IDwcD-CF4jx8C_kFgK3UECkQ5hgtA1g9mNrqRHI4Sf77VssyrGFBaUcsthzRmNNHRR1d3m4bTiHLxSozkK64F-qKvZOKpdXx9ns3ZtpP0ukJ3bBNLQqNg6xcTZdNaN/s1600-h/IMG_2488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hqq8F7nWufXRe4IDwcD-CF4jx8C_kFgK3UECkQ5hgtA1g9mNrqRHI4Sf77VssyrGFBaUcsthzRmNNHRR1d3m4bTiHLxSozkK64F-qKvZOKpdXx9ns3ZtpP0ukJ3bBNLQqNg6xcTZdNaN/s320/IMG_2488.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The view from the bar... And the end of a great day on Marco Island. Next time we want to buy a big pet basket for my bike so that we can bring Rocky.</div>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-18138565475390010382010-03-09T13:08:00.010-05:002010-03-09T13:47:22.366-05:00March at the Naples KOA, Southwest FloridaHere are some photos we took at the <a href="http://www.napleskoa.com/">KOA in Naples, FL</a>. The resort is below Naples, just north of the bridge onto Marco Island (check-out Joey's Pizza and Pasta House on Collier Blvd on Marco Island; their food is great - especially the Tiramisu). Wildlife seen: Armadillo, Alligators (a couple of 3-4 footers live in the drainage ditches at the edge of the resort, Opossum, and an Eagle; really a big hawk, but "Eagle" sounds more impressive). Heard about: Feral Pigs; living just outside resort in jungle along dog-walk road; a male and a female with several youngsters. A little known fact: when domestic pigs escape into the wild, they change/metamorphize into different creatures. Besides getting much bigger [see "<a href="http://images.google.com/images?hl=en&safe=off&rlz=1I7GGLL_en&q=hogzilla+pictures&oq=hogzilla&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=YJeWS9LKCIqENNrKkEc&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CBgQsAQwAA">Hogzilla</a>"], they grow longer, dark hair and big, sharp tusks - and mean dispositions.). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Fga4EYpXiBK-ksRUVUpB-4qfGFclL2yq-dmXPw49pwvLQnIjJkDBA3qzdXudSrevP6B307AdscW8dCvRHnvbgzZU9K2EFxFTSy2OFi1a96-QA7ZHbBHNBKFmHopFGgnIgpnqLArLjpDt/s1600-h/IMG_2447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Fga4EYpXiBK-ksRUVUpB-4qfGFclL2yq-dmXPw49pwvLQnIjJkDBA3qzdXudSrevP6B307AdscW8dCvRHnvbgzZU9K2EFxFTSy2OFi1a96-QA7ZHbBHNBKFmHopFGgnIgpnqLArLjpDt/s320/IMG_2447.JPG" vt="true" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Queen of KOAs at the Naples KOA</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiaSxsJcTZgeJp8xEl6osR9tNNUMzepRcjDP2zwN8L3j840ybR-o3AftvcR-k8XLn5OYVsn3bKyWRj8h30yhuXspW5ywg2x8qzBmk00aLiRyenkRbbzYplaUrH2fJlTM7EQtOM3TJMNc6/s1600-h/IMG_2461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiaSxsJcTZgeJp8xEl6osR9tNNUMzepRcjDP2zwN8L3j840ybR-o3AftvcR-k8XLn5OYVsn3bKyWRj8h30yhuXspW5ywg2x8qzBmk00aLiRyenkRbbzYplaUrH2fJlTM7EQtOM3TJMNc6/s320/IMG_2461.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our trusty (or is that rusty?) bikes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAyo-6rVx04dw97TqXhPfGXwnG5jnrKL7HoFA0Ykz1WEad1lNhGMzLkXgdsHCNeJvF34Jo-ejESgURwg2QzKXhz7F6pfH49oVmodD_q-zgAPFuqXYFPGZQdUQNU2HXeeNvWK4w2XNKZrJ/s1600-h/IMG_2449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEAyo-6rVx04dw97TqXhPfGXwnG5jnrKL7HoFA0Ykz1WEad1lNhGMzLkXgdsHCNeJvF34Jo-ejESgURwg2QzKXhz7F6pfH49oVmodD_q-zgAPFuqXYFPGZQdUQNU2HXeeNvWK4w2XNKZrJ/s320/IMG_2449.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our tow vehicle/limousine and kayak </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(just in case we get caught in a flash flood).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7zqFVFAHRhTRnyx3g9sR-y0_YC5kviZgHL-tM2IqQh9H2oO19Q1y3fnIQJqQoZ0HLq2tmLPmhXs1xC3giVqBCJCgxe2UvOwF7wLmdj78HzcJgwZXhJVQXYq0vYALUuiRWBA6VT_P63VR/s1600-h/IMG_2459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7zqFVFAHRhTRnyx3g9sR-y0_YC5kviZgHL-tM2IqQh9H2oO19Q1y3fnIQJqQoZ0HLq2tmLPmhXs1xC3giVqBCJCgxe2UvOwF7wLmdj78HzcJgwZXhJVQXYq0vYALUuiRWBA6VT_P63VR/s320/IMG_2459.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our dining room...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBGCVcGW_PHZUTAb-MEc50dCvKy09w0PJyw4GXr4XtJmZEO_tnYbIqgWHNujAhEtIMxctoWBSebINW3XGTegObCp4TWskEUOTFrBxDzIgtFWK6Fn76Amwnnvs7scrUr6wsWolo4XBvQZi/s1600-h/IMG_2455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCBGCVcGW_PHZUTAb-MEc50dCvKy09w0PJyw4GXr4XtJmZEO_tnYbIqgWHNujAhEtIMxctoWBSebINW3XGTegObCp4TWskEUOTFrBxDzIgtFWK6Fn76Amwnnvs7scrUr6wsWolo4XBvQZi/s320/IMG_2455.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Shuffleboard Court; the only sport that takes more energy to watch than to actually play.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbw8kOXvN6__aZteRTXLo0emCJlCh3l2mTIBJMBOEDsQapgMjDChZ-9bw8QESXA6hLY8aqJ8fJDU3BmshShflt4D_Li4c3EvtnnXiAOL0iCJhRgB_AOPtQlRQxOr8oBx8srogdOq-oVVfI/s1600-h/IMG_2452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbw8kOXvN6__aZteRTXLo0emCJlCh3l2mTIBJMBOEDsQapgMjDChZ-9bw8QESXA6hLY8aqJ8fJDU3BmshShflt4D_Li4c3EvtnnXiAOL0iCJhRgB_AOPtQlRQxOr8oBx8srogdOq-oVVfI/s320/IMG_2452.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The neighborhood swimming hole...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxwnP_PhEkyrNp5t1nBEnTXC0wobkkJ_xAdBWiX6ArZ2-56zK8A7RpM3UYfRex0JmTnBtZntAYpRpxBQiuDRjpvZOSuPhvyCLLqdx8ixZagVNFVe2_qGD8pKMDWlV3RrnH7Q5iWBUUYND/s1600-h/IMG_2468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwxwnP_PhEkyrNp5t1nBEnTXC0wobkkJ_xAdBWiX6ArZ2-56zK8A7RpM3UYfRex0JmTnBtZntAYpRpxBQiuDRjpvZOSuPhvyCLLqdx8ixZagVNFVe2_qGD8pKMDWlV3RrnH7Q5iWBUUYND/s320/IMG_2468.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just after the daily naked volleyball game... Just kidding!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9cXpaC-IxHyd3803YgD1eTdh5PRr6Za9-eQ17RlEJJEiIwEtwEKxK3iXKNEkkmzapOqfPaPp5GPC4VGXvzWPdeNvaz3G0WQJOmjfrTQ6_TianIWypeyPFdIHH-KjIUef0n2J4PPGZNQI/s1600-h/IMG_2465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih9cXpaC-IxHyd3803YgD1eTdh5PRr6Za9-eQ17RlEJJEiIwEtwEKxK3iXKNEkkmzapOqfPaPp5GPC4VGXvzWPdeNvaz3G0WQJOmjfrTQ6_TianIWypeyPFdIHH-KjIUef0n2J4PPGZNQI/s320/IMG_2465.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just when I thought I'd seen everything; I thought that God did that...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVPcLcsKE3emeyLAKZrLyRH2asIESFkUWtJClYIroTjSZk5ttg9Fwe7SrU90-Bf8eeuUj_4qDDDUXDwyAzg6LF8uh0-ULEEgzPDNFZKGHJfTavp5al4Ll_Ta5BtCNyaApi9L7ofNrD1wp/s1600-h/IMG_2467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVPcLcsKE3emeyLAKZrLyRH2asIESFkUWtJClYIroTjSZk5ttg9Fwe7SrU90-Bf8eeuUj_4qDDDUXDwyAzg6LF8uh0-ULEEgzPDNFZKGHJfTavp5al4Ll_Ta5BtCNyaApi9L7ofNrD1wp/s320/IMG_2467.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just when I was pleased to see that we didn't have the smallest trailer in the resort, I learned that this one was for the guy's Mother-In-Law - he pulls it behind his 40 foot motorhome... ;)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj78b7kOvSHkroM5A4xw4JgshLazL3zYdHYIsu84bCg36OrIRbdMb1ZQ0Uu7Qmp0enD7-qk6UOJGDFaJWrFa7nGDiA5bgNzY43Vt7ivAD2bWyCEjj2BaHsUoHDWP1MQOdUsbGp5-o2VQhq/s1600-h/IMG_2471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj78b7kOvSHkroM5A4xw4JgshLazL3zYdHYIsu84bCg36OrIRbdMb1ZQ0Uu7Qmp0enD7-qk6UOJGDFaJWrFa7nGDiA5bgNzY43Vt7ivAD2bWyCEjj2BaHsUoHDWP1MQOdUsbGp5-o2VQhq/s320/IMG_2471.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Till next time... Rocky sends a big GRROWFFF! out to his friends.</div>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-8591706771496231022010-03-09T11:30:00.013-05:002010-03-09T14:27:21.194-05:00January And February at Bay Bayou, Tampa, in West-Central FloridaI finally got to process some digital photos that I had taken while we were staying at <a href="http://www.baybayou.com/">Bay Bayou RV Resort</a> in Tampa, Florida. Although not all of our stay there was enjoyable, mostly due to conditions outside of the park's control, especially the weather, we did meet some very nice people (Hi Rhoda and Mike, Hank and Jerry!) and furry friends (Rocky sends out a ROWF! to Missy, Ralph, Spot and Harvey and a GRRRR! to all of those pesky squirrels that dropped acorns on our roof every night).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFyCGq4YZtlNhpIZ2SCKHpRpC0d9OsnxQSdJNe9Rn6N5u_Arn5z7uBuuxtlDdXRe6IQXAItg2xAnnZIk8cT6Mw5DTlhJ-mWzPAKLO7ZP_tufqSD3vSqUJJDddULeqO_2PoBSi0i4TXrE7/s1600-h/IMG_2441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFyCGq4YZtlNhpIZ2SCKHpRpC0d9OsnxQSdJNe9Rn6N5u_Arn5z7uBuuxtlDdXRe6IQXAItg2xAnnZIk8cT6Mw5DTlhJ-mWzPAKLO7ZP_tufqSD3vSqUJJDddULeqO_2PoBSi0i4TXrE7/s320/IMG_2441.JPG" vt="true" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maureen looking just beee-you-tif-fullll!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqkmwYciN2RtUHM7lLWGWTJ1zlXGFIyxrIDcdLhqk6Ob0WKrbFTVYzV16qa0PoehoPloKmNAFX7PwxD1Oh4680cwoAGd1xzqrGK3IcGIgJ5RK9rK_LujXKLCrk91iSv1pm3eQdPv5rfRpp/s1600-h/IMG_2443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqkmwYciN2RtUHM7lLWGWTJ1zlXGFIyxrIDcdLhqk6Ob0WKrbFTVYzV16qa0PoehoPloKmNAFX7PwxD1Oh4680cwoAGd1xzqrGK3IcGIgJ5RK9rK_LujXKLCrk91iSv1pm3eQdPv5rfRpp/s320/IMG_2443.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some good-looking guy who liked to come around and play with Rocky (Notice the loose clothes? I'm still losing weight. Eat your hearts out, Hans and Tony).</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_eKDqDcu1fs9ZEpAvXQm-ZvNU_sE20jqQzRNNkg5vT4UI4wp0KDIIDpYE6FMjAArPwlWUcNMeLMOLZ-l7h_6lMMUQrHl-vg4viRCqj2-3OiBXSL40sTnmZHlRhkgjVXUbexU6kFgXji1C/s1600-h/IMG_2437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_eKDqDcu1fs9ZEpAvXQm-ZvNU_sE20jqQzRNNkg5vT4UI4wp0KDIIDpYE6FMjAArPwlWUcNMeLMOLZ-l7h_6lMMUQrHl-vg4viRCqj2-3OiBXSL40sTnmZHlRhkgjVXUbexU6kFgXji1C/s320/IMG_2437.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's NOT snow on the ground (although it might of well have been); it's crushed shells</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fXZ2PigyiKORst5UETO_7FkGFAGweoV4DajsDW0fS2TWwc_U-uVRO0_p3x9Of169K8Sp5XHOzwIwKwwSuYCtwepEJe0tvRfOqi0QPID5euzkqZWkJ8UDp_pHc4qrUjuOg_pwPJ2pM1Kf/s1600-h/IMG_2438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-fXZ2PigyiKORst5UETO_7FkGFAGweoV4DajsDW0fS2TWwc_U-uVRO0_p3x9Of169K8Sp5XHOzwIwKwwSuYCtwepEJe0tvRfOqi0QPID5euzkqZWkJ8UDp_pHc4qrUjuOg_pwPJ2pM1Kf/s320/IMG_2438.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mo looking for warmer weather...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUHERu7F3v2AIwLVKlkfhK30FzX5VIsF1vBJ4SHncIzz7dyENubYAmPEXZO9xYRM5adCg_vSX7MI5liF_jKmLhj5aqB579hTg_RgzcLgrg2JjxjFWwmm8AfDNRcPmlkgw7nndIXMAPo1X/s1600-h/IMG_2439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUHERu7F3v2AIwLVKlkfhK30FzX5VIsF1vBJ4SHncIzz7dyENubYAmPEXZO9xYRM5adCg_vSX7MI5liF_jKmLhj5aqB579hTg_RgzcLgrg2JjxjFWwmm8AfDNRcPmlkgw7nndIXMAPo1X/s320/IMG_2439.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The view north from our site (#123; our 3rd site in 2 months at the same resort)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2-hW_dNB_BtxqWBZEvsPHi0qPBIUu9nalHWyrA_nyNbj-fVUWFf5rjumLWcNLqcktlEBpO7nlIz2bXFRxQvfhFCYeO8If8SvA1S0ayR16XiFOKDIMNhsGAM_E8I_6u2MptHwS9TVZmK9/s1600-h/IMG_2440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2-hW_dNB_BtxqWBZEvsPHi0qPBIUu9nalHWyrA_nyNbj-fVUWFf5rjumLWcNLqcktlEBpO7nlIz2bXFRxQvfhFCYeO8If8SvA1S0ayR16XiFOKDIMNhsGAM_E8I_6u2MptHwS9TVZmK9/s320/IMG_2440.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And south... The cul-de-sac and the dreaded stinky 5th wheeler is down at the end...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-33142708060597424022010-03-04T22:42:00.014-05:002010-03-06T09:57:53.939-05:00My First Brush With The LawWe're in southwestern Florida, in Naples, just north of Marco Island. We finally found some (warmer) weather, just a little over 100 miles south of Tampa, where we last reported in from. After only one day in the 70s in 2 months, we were ready to migrate further south. Naples is just west of the Everglades, in a direct line with Fort Lauderdale on the east coast.<br />
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Well, it hasn't been much different, weather wise, than Tampa, but it <em>promises</em> to be. We're truly in the tropics now and, even if it's forecasted to be in the 40s tonight, the coming week is supposed to be in the 70s and the week after that even warmer. Now that'll feel <em>tropical</em>, especially after the past 2 frigid months we just experienced.<br />
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We're staying in the Naples KOA. It's an older park with some miles on her, but she's well kept and very friendly. The staff is friendly, our neighbors are friendly; the Canadian couple with 3 small kids staying in the cabin just across the street are friendly - just about everyone we've met is <em>friendly</em>. As I've reported, this is not always true of other parks we've visited. Some parks have an environment that reeks of <em>NYAH, NYAH! Our RV is bigger than your RV!</em> And, when the weather is lousy, or the big live oak that's hanging over your RV is dropping acorns down on your roof all night, keeping your dog on edge and awake, which, by extension, is keeping you on edge and awake, it helps to be in a friendly park. Friendly people commiserate with each other over life's problems, they chat about their latest RV'ing disasters, like sleepless nights caused by, as one conspiracist reported, squirrels bombarding our RV's with unsalted nuts, AND they make a lot of extra bean soup and then invite everyone in the park to get together and share the surplus (this happened tonight; the soup was good and the company was <em>friendly,</em> although I expect that a lot of RV's will need airing out in the morning...). Friendliness just makes everything <em>nicer</em>...<br />
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But this post is about more than friendliness. It's also about <em>sex</em>. And my first run in with the law...<br />
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You see, while chatting with a couple of our new <em>friendly</em> friends, we got to talking about old movies. That discussion reminded me of my first brush with the law; all because of sex and being in the wrong place at the wrong time... I didn't tell them this story then, but I've decided to share it with you now:<br />
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I was fifteen and my hormones were raging; about what, I wasn't quite sure, but it involved women. Being that it was 1960 and I looked like Richie Cunningham from <em>Happy Days </em>and the only women I knew where my sister, my cousins and my Mom, I didn't know very much about sex. Except that I wanted to know more.<br />
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On the night that everything went terribly wrong, I was alone, walking home from Freeport, a neighboring town on Long Island, New York a few miles from my Mom and Dad's home in Baldwin. I was walking along a lonely and dark stretch of road near my home, wondering what the big deal was about what I had just walked several miles to see<em>. </em>There were large greenhouses along my side of the road and an empty field across the road. Empty, that is, except for the car that was parked just across the road from where I stood, halfway on and halfway off the road, with its headlights on and its driver's door wide open; with no driver in sight. Thinking this strange, I stopped and stood there in the dark wondering what was up.<br />
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It was exactly then that 3 police cars, one of them unmarked, came zooming up from both directions and screeched to a halt, surrounding the abandoned car. Thinking that I had stumbled across something really interesting; better than <em>Red Skeleton</em>, <em>Sid Caesar</em>, or even <em>Bonanza</em>, I stood frozen in place, watching and waiting for what might happen next.<br />
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As I watched, the cops jumped out of their cars and, with hands on their holstered pistols, shone their flashlights in the abandoned car and neighboring field. Seeing nothing suspicious, they huddled together. The plain clothes cops, probably detectives, seemed to be giving the uniformed cops directions; pointing up and down the road, back into the field, and then straight across the street... at me. All six heads and flashlights spun around and locked in on me, standing there in the dark, staring back at them. <br />
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<em>Uh oh</em>! I thought, a bit late, realizing that maybe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.<br />
<br />
"Hey You!" One of the detectives yelled, "Stay right there!" All six of them headed across the street, fanning out a bit as they approached, I guess to be better positioned to head me off if I tried to run for it. All 4 foot, 11 inches of me (I didn't reach my full 6 feet until 11th grade, so at 15 I looked like I was about 12), dressed in my striped t-shirt, rolled-up dungarees and black-and-white high Converse sneakers, was quickly surrounded by 6 large and angry looking policemen who seemed to believe that they had captured their man... or little kid...<br />
<br />
"What're you doin' here?" demanded one of them.<br />
<br />
"Uh, I'm just going home..."<br />
<br />
"Where from?" demanded another.<br />
<br />
"A football game," I said, turning very red.<br />
<br />
"What football game?" demanded the first detective, taking charge of the interrogation.<br />
<br />
"Uh, Freeport played Baldwin..." I lied.<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah? Who won?" He demanded. "What was the score?" immediately demanded the other.<br />
<br />
"Uh, Uh..."<br />
<br />
"Well?" "WELL?" "<strong>WELL</strong>?"<br />
<br />
That did it. They had worn me down. They had broken me. They knew that I was lying. I was in big trouble now...<br />
<br />
I threw myself on their mercy. "I'm sorry! Iwasn'treallyatafootballgameIwenttothemoviesinFreeport... I, uh, I uh... IwenttoseeTheWorldofSuzieWong!Myfather'sgoingtokillme!" Sob...<br />
<br />
"Huh?" "Whuh?" "Whaaaat?" "What did he say?" Several of them asked.<br />
<br />
The older detective shrugged and said, "He said that he's coming home from the movies. He went to see that new flick, the one about Suzie Wong..."<br />
<br />
"Suzie who?" Someone asked.<br />
<br />
"You know, the one about the prostitute..." Someone else responded.<br />
<br />
"Ohhh..." Several of them said, nodding...<br />
<br />
"Yeahhh, that one. He snuck off to see the movie and now he's afraid his dad's goin' to find out and whip his butt." The younger detective summed up.<br />
<br />
The older looking detective frowned and asked, "Is that right kid? Is that what your doin' here? You don't know anything about that car over there?"<br />
<br />
"Yessir, Yessir, Yessir... I mean Nosir!" Sob.<br />
<br />
The flashlight beams started to bob around as more and more of them began laughing. I didn't see what was so funny... They didn't know my father...<br />
<br />
"Hey kid!"<br />
<br />
"Yessir!" Sob...<br />
<br />
"G'WON!" Yelled the detective, stifling a laugh, "GET OUTA HERE!"<br />
<br />
I ran all of the way home. I never mentioned my encounter with the cops. I told my dad that Baldwin had won the game. He was watching Jackie Gleason. He didn't seem to hear me. I could hear Jackie's character Ralph, a bus driver, yelling at his wife, "One of these days, Alice, one of these days, it's gonna be right to the moon, Alice, RIGHT TO THE MOON!" I gulped and went to my room...George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-21708032931864510662010-02-22T22:07:00.000-05:002010-02-22T22:07:38.610-05:00When Things Go Bump In The Night<em>With Mom in her kerchief and me in my cap, we had just settled down for a long winter's nap, when all of a sudden...</em><br />
<br />
I just love that story. It often provides a nice segue into many of my stories, since many of them occur at night. Like last night...<br />
<br />
Maureen and I were invited to have dinner with friends at their sticks-'n-stones home just a half-hour away. Not a problem, unless you're one of the many RV'ers who travel with their hairy children. No, not cats, they fair very well when left alone; as long as their litter box is clean and there's kibble and water. Dogs are different. They're more <em>needy</em>. <br />
<br />
I'm not saying that Rocky presents a problem when left alone. He's great: willing to sit for hours, looking out the window, becoming excited by every vehicle or person that passes by, hoping that it's his mom and dad... while whining softly... with a tear in the corner of his eye... No, wait! That's not our Rocky. He's just fine when left alone, as long as we don't over-estimate the ability of his 11-year old bladder and bowel to keep things under control. He'll be the first to admit that, as he's gotten older, it's important to have regular B.M.s and not do anything to upset the delicate balance of input and outgo. So he doesn't eat or drink while we're away, at least not that we've been able to detect.<br />
<br />
Well, we were having too much fun last night at the dinner party and like Cinderella, we waited too long before heading back to camp. Worried what we might find, we unlocked and opened the door slowly, waiting for smelly evidence that Rocky hadn't been able to hold it for 5 hours. But no! All was well, and would have remained so, if what happened next hadn't occurred:<br />
<br />
Having held off eating for all those hours, Rocky quickly said his hellos and then dove into his food bowl, at 11:30 at night. It's amazing how fast a dog can woof down prodigous volumes of food. I've learned that this habit is a leftover from their prehistoric carnivore days when, not knowing when they would eat again or whether some bigger carnivore would chase them away from their dinner, they learned to eat as quickly as possible. He emptied his bowl of kibble in two seconds flat and then washed it down with a half-bowl of water. We quickly took him for a walk, but we were too late, or too early in this case. He hadn't digested all of that food that was slowly making its way down his G.I. tract.<br />
<br />
We tried to fool ourselves into believing that he would be okay until morning (we just didn't know what TIME in the morning). We weren't fooling anyone; especially not Rocky, who was after all, the final arbiter for all things concerning his B.M.s...<br />
<br />
At 2 AM, SOMETHING went BUMP in the darkened trailer! Instantly awake, I glanced to my right, where I thought the noise came from. Nothing there... Then something was there...Then nothing... I wiped at my eyes, trying to see what... YOW! There it was again! And then... <em>DAMNIT! Rocky! What are you doing? </em>It was Rocky, jumping up and down like a pogo stick next to my bed, trying to get my attention. Jeez! Learn how to talk already!<br />
<br />
My first thought was, "Good grief! Go back to bed!" But then it hit me: He's not supposed to jump! The vet told us NOT TO LET HIM JUMP! Ohh, s--t!<br />
<br />
I was up in a flash, while Maureen was still mumbling, "Whuh? Whuh? What's going on? What time is it?"<br />
<br />
"Rocky's got to go! And he's JUMPING!"<br />
<br />
"Whuh?"<br />
<br />
By the third whuh, I had him in his harness, the leash attached, a poop bag and my flashlight in hand and was going out the door. <br />
<br />
A half-hour later, I was at the other end of the resort, sitting on a picnic table in the pitch dark, with the dog's leash fully extended and with him just standing out there, studying the night sky and reading the breezes. No pooping. Not yet. Whenever I tried to return to the RV, Rocky would pull in the exact opposite direction and then just stand there. It was a Mexican Stand-off, a battle of the minds... And he was winning.<br />
<br />
But wait! As Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, always says, dogs can shift their attention like throwing a switch; you just have to distract him. Well, in the end, it wasn't me that broke the stand-off. As we were standing there in the pitch dark, at opposite ends of a 20-foot leash, something let out a blood-curdling scream not 50 feet away. That was followed by a low growl and another scream, this one even closer. Both Rocky and I knew that it was probably just a couple of feral cats having a hissy-fit over which ever one had dared step into the other one's territory, but at 2 AM in the pitch dark, there was something unworldly in those screams. They made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I guess they got to Rocky to, because I heard the leash rewinding into its handle one moment and then he shot by me, heading straight for home.<br />
<br />
The little coward! Afraid of a couple of puddy tats! But then again, bobcats had been spotted in the area, hadn't they? And those suckers can get as big as 30 pounds apiece, couldn't they? Hmm... <br />
<br />
Even though Rocky was running, I blew past him like he was standing still, even considering my cane and messed up spinal cord... <em>I can walk, err Run! I'm healed! </em><br />
<br />
Just ten feet from the trailer, Rocky stopped just long enough to poop. Thank God. I had gone a short while ago and didn't have to poop, but I did need to change my shorts once I got back in the trailer... Before Maureen found out... She'd never let me live it down... Just kidding.<br />
<br />
I did smell something though, as I lifted Rocky back inside. It smelled like something was <em>burning</em>. Looking around quickly, checking the stove, putting a hand on the microwave, I couldn't find the problem. At least not until I checked my recliner (Which I have to sleep in - I've told you that story, haven't I?). It was in a full upright position and my bed pillow was trapped between the top of the recliner and the 6-volt lamp over my "bed." Which was lit... And gets very hot... OMG! A fire! I swatted the pillow away, looking for flames. Thank God, there were none, just a brown burn mark on the pillow case...<br />
<br />
And that's when I heard the scream. It seems that, when I smacked the pillow away from the hot light, it hit the open laptop computer sitting on the shelf behind my chair, which moved sideways, pushing the bed curtain over, which pushed the stainless steel table leg stowed above the window behind the bed, which shoved the microwave/convection oven pan and screen and a tissue box stored above the bed off their shelf and down onto Maureen's sleeping head.<br />
<br />
Rocky and I covered our ears as Maureen expressed her feelings about this innocent, unavoidable accident, which I'm sure that half the park overheard. As she glared at me, I tried to do the right thing and explain what had happened, so I shrugged my shoulders and pointed at Rocky.<br />
<br />
BTW, I didn't tell her about the almost-fire until later the next afternoon, when she had calmed down a little... Women can get so emotional sometimes, even after almost 45 years, I still can't figure them out.<br />
<br />
Till next time,<br />
GeorgeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-39612683961422636312010-02-20T13:35:00.000-05:002010-02-20T13:35:19.765-05:00Squirrels; One Of God's Creatures Or Demons?While others have referred to squirrels as "rats with bushy tails," I have taken a more tolerant view. As a lover of nature and the natural world (which might be the same thing), I try to see the linkage between all things, knowing that everything on our planet serves a purpose in the grand scheme of things (except for Mosquitos and Black Flies, and maybe those really big and hairy spiders, whose only reason to be here must be to torment - or, in the case of those big spiders, to scare the hell out of man).<br />
<br />
Well, that <em>was</em> how I viewed squirrels, at least until a fellow RV'er told me this story: "A squirrrel climbed up on a neighbor's RV, chewed its way through the roof top refrigerator vent and then began eating the refrigerator's insulation." Hmm, the squirrel was more likely attracted to the heat eminating from the refrigerator's vent and, upon following the vent pipe to the source of all that cozy heat, decided to shred the insulation around the fridge and make itself a nice, warm and cozy home. How sweet!<br />
<br />
BUT WAIT! That could've been <em>my</em> RV! And with that thought, I lost all interest in trying to analyze the motivations of a cute, furry critter, just another one of God's creatures, and instead began visualizing myself, or better yet, my dog, Rocky, tearing the little buck-toothed vermin to pieces if it tried to come within chewing distance of my RV!<br />
<br />
Am I wrong?George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-65872916948014447522010-02-19T17:05:00.003-05:002010-02-19T20:58:57.121-05:00Open Mike Night And "Mr. Harvard"Many RV resorts have social calendars full of group activities so that people can get to know each other and, perhaps, be distracted from obsessing over the outragous rental fees that they're paying. Popular activities include shuffleboard, Texas-Hold-Em, Line dancing, BINGO, sewing, painting, and an "Open Mike Night" where residents are free to exhibit any talents that they might have. <br />
<br />
Maureen and I thought that the latter sounded like fun. She's a great impromtu singer and I, well... Let me see... I can read and write. Now I know that reading and writing is a fairly common skill (except maybe in some of the RV parks that we've visited, you know; the ones with trailers that haven't been on the road since Dewey ran for President and each site has a collection of discarded appliances and miscellaneous yard crap on display, along with the requisite pack of semi-feral cats or overweight dogs). I, on the other hand, am an <em>author</em>. Or, maybe, a <em>budding</em> author." I have been told that I have some small talent for stringing words together into somewhat readable sentences and even paragraphs. And so, even though one family member commented that some of my work was <em>wordy</em>, I have a few short stories I'm rather proud of and a novel that I've been working on (for the past four years). It was the introduction and first chapter of my novel that I chose to read from on Open Mike Night.<br />
<br />
After a few of the park's management team got up to sing and perform some magic tricks, Maureen took the mike and sang "My Man." She did very well (one of the best performances of the night, in fact). I went next. The "stagehand" positioned the table and chair that I requested, all the while making a suspicious face at the stack of papers I held in my hands. That particular body language should have been a warning to me.<br />
<br />
The clubhouse has a fairly respectable lending library. This fact had led me to believe that there were at least some literate folks in the audience who might enjoy hearing an author (okay, a <em>scribbler</em>) read from his latest work in progress. I imagined myself on a book tour, speaking at the local Barnes & Noble to an enraptured audience who had stood on line for <em>hours</em> just to hear a selection from a famous author's latest bestseller. Once again, I imagined something grand and God stood by laughing.<br />
<br />
My novel takes place in the future. It follows a small family living during a modern ice age and a worldwide pandemic. The survival of mankind is in question and my hero is valiantly trying to record the stories of the displaced peoples that have lost their homes to the advancing glaciers or are fleeing from a terrible disease that had already killed millions. As the story progresses, the family sets out on a trip to a flooded Manhattan, now a Venice-like shadow of what it once was, but still a thriving metropolis struggling to save their city and live normal lives during a time when Nature has gone beserk. I try to portray how humans might respond to terrible circumstances during a time that many believe is the end of days for humanity. During their travels, the family learns several amazing secrets that, if known, could tear the world asunder with worldwide riots and race wars. Because of their knowledge of these things, the family is pursued by different groups, each with their own reasons for gaining this knowledge or making sure that it is never revealed.<br />
<br />
As I began reading, there were severals calls from the back of the room complaining that I couldn't be heard. I moved the mike closer to my mouth and forged on. I quickly learned that at least some of my audience didn't appreciate my novel or, perhaps, just being read to. There was one particular voice calling from the back of the room. Striving to finish my reading, I heard only what sounded like mumblings until one word broke through my concentration and nearly stopped me cold. "BORRR-ING!" It was that same person, sitting in the back of the room with his friends and getting his jollies by issuing a play-by-play critique of my reading. <br />
<br />
I glanced up at my audience, trying to guage their interest. Most of them seemed to be politely listening. I decided to forge on, knowing that I had only a couple of pages left to read and sure that the story would soon capture and excite even my vocal critic. Well, I got the "hook." The park manager approached and announced that there wasn't enough time for me to continue, even though it was still early and ithere wasn't a long line of people waiting to grab the mike. Trying to maintain my dignity, I announced that I was done and would welcome any comments or questions that the audience might have (sometimes I'm a glutton for punishment). "NO," the manager announced, "We don't allow that!" <em>"Allow that?" "Allow that?"</em> What did she mean, <em>"Allow that?"</em> I hadn't noticed any rules of order posted on the wall when we came in and thought that pretty much anything goes at an open mike gathering. Even so, I relinquished the mike and returned to my seat, glad that at least there was some polite applause as I did so (And NO, I'm sure that they weren't clapping because I had finally shutup and left the stage!). <br />
<br />
As a nice lady who was sitting next to me began to praise my writing and assure me that she loved to be read to, Mr. "Boring" approached the mike. For some reason, he felt the need to justify his rude remarks by announcing to us all that he had attended <em>Harvard</em> and knew something about "Global Warming." Who the hell cared where he went to school (I doubt that is was at Harvard) and didn't he hear anything that I had read? The novel wasn't about the causes of the ice age or the pandemic, but only about how people might cope if there was one! JEEZ! Gimme a break!<br />
<br />
Well, "Mr. Harvard," as I have come to call him, proceeded to sing. Or at least try. No, he couldn't even have been trying; he was terrible! He must have realized half-way through his selection that things were not going well, for he interjected a half-assed apology, "At least I'm better than the last guy!" Hmm, this guy deserved a fat lip. No, I didn't dash up to the mike and give him one, and no, I didn't even go looking for him afterward to question his curriculum vitae, which I was positive didn't include any ivy-covered halls of higher education. People who have attained that lofty peak don't usually feel the need to go around bragging about it. Especially to a bunch of RV'ers. Right? And I'm sure that the closest this guy ever came to doing research on global warming was when he studied the ice melting in his cocktail. <br />
<br />
I learned something that evening about expectations and my fellow man. Oh, alright, I already knew that stuff, but I sure had it reinforced. But I did get some helpful advice and encouragement from the nice lady at my table. I'm pretty sure that <em>she</em> went to Harvard...George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-90922712628263202702010-02-18T23:25:00.005-05:002010-02-19T10:56:21.018-05:00Selling Ice Cream To The Eskimoes And Class Distinctions In The RV WorldIt used to be, and may still be, if you wished to compliment a salesman, to identify them as an expert in their field, you said that they could sell ice, or ice cream, to the Eskimoes (which wouldn't be PC today; now you would say "Inuit"). Well, there must be several of those penultimate sales people working right here at this resort, because today we went to an ice cream social while the outside temperatures were in the breezy 50s (which is like below zero to a Floridian) and there where small icebergs drifting around in the resort's swimming pool (Okay, that last part's an exaggeration; the pool's heated).<br />
<br />
As we queued up to pay our one buck for an ice cream soda or ice cream sundae (the sundaes seemed to be the top sellers), ordering with nuts or without, with whipped cream, caramel or fudge sauce, or cherry, or without, we kidded each other about whether there would be any ice cream or our favorite topping left by the time we got to the front of the line. People whom I had hardly spoken to during the past 6 weeks, other than to nod hello or wish a good morning to in passing, were suddenly friendly and almost effusive in their kidding around. And this got me to thinking...<br />
<br />
Maureen and I noticed during our first few days that not all of our fellow campers were friendly. One of the first events we attended was "Texas Line Dancing Night." It was our first exposure to the group at large... and it was disappointing. It reminded me of all those movies where the hero walks into and unfamiliar saloon, or redneck bar, and everyone goes silent and turns to stare. That's what it felt like. In truth and to be fair though, several of the people, when not with their "pack," would offer a friendly hello and even a few words when met during a walk around the resort. But when they were in their pack, or clique, their coterie, they often ignored newcomers. <br />
<br />
This isn't how I remembered campers from our early days. They were friendly and helpful, open and candid. So what's happened? I think that I have an answer. Back in the days of tent camping, most people were in the same socio-economic group. Oh, they might have kids, or not, and they may have had college degrees, or not - but we were all in the same boat, or in this case, tent; with mildewed, leaky canvas, damp sleeping bags, cantankerous Coleman stoves, sputtering lanterns, smelly porta-pottys and God forbid, the heinous pit toilet, along with all of the other little "joys" that bound campers together in a common feeling of adventure and accomplishment, if not outright survival. Of course, non-campers could never understand why we were out there sleeping in the cold, drizzly woods and thought we were nuts not to be down the road in the Holiday Inn...<br />
<br />
And that's what I think may be missing from today's RV resorts. We're as far from camping as you can probably get; with our trailers and motorhomes, with their hot water on demand, full baths, thermostatically-controlled heat and AC, microwave/convection ovens, Select-A-Number air mattress queen and king sized beds, entertainment centers, washers and driers, 42-inch LCD, satellite TV, internet, and yes, even a fireplace. Forget the Holiday Inn; some of us are "camping" in 6 and 7 figure rolling land yachts. Some of us are towing "dinghies" that cost more than my first house. Every once in a while I catch myself, about to say "camping" when I really mean to say "Rv'ng." What we're doing at an RV resort is Rv'ng; which has nothing to do with traditional camping. What bound us together as fellow campers has been replaced by what now separates us, or, more accurately, divides us into class-conscious clicques.<br />
<br />
At the top of the RV social ranking is the million dollar-plus, bus conversion, 40 foot or more, diesel-pusher motorhomes. They are the royalty of the RV world. I saw one roll into the resort the other day, an absolute beauty with full-body paint and a dinghy with matching paint that would put Cleopatra's royal barge to shame. I'd thought I seen everything until a short while later, when the well-dressed owners went rolling by on matching Seques, those 4 grand, two-wheeled, self-balancing, computer-controlled, upright transportation devices that the inventor once (or maybe still) dreamed would revolutionize <em>green</em> transportation for the comman man (but not at those prices, IMHO). <br />
<br />
Below the bus conversions and opulent deisel-pushers are the royalty-wannabees in their gas-powered motorhomes, some of which still cost more than a nice starter home in Albuquerque and have a lot of the same amenities, but they're just not a <em>Prevost</em> (the creme de la creme in the RV world), you know? From there, you move down through the Class C van conversions, 5th wheel trailers and the traditional ball hitch hard-sided trailers. Class B van conversions fall somewhere in these latter classes, I guess based on price and options, although some people consider them to be more like a <em>car</em> (shudder) than an RV. Soft-sided/pop-up trailers and slide-ons are so low in the ranking that many RV resorts will deny them entrance, along with many of the pre-90s motorhomes; regardless of their condition; even though many of which have been lovingly restored to better-than-new condition. It just wouldn't be <em>appropriate</em>.<br />
<br />
I'll be the first one to admit that I wouldn't trade my nice warm/cool trailer for a mouldy tent anytime soon, but I do miss the comraderie of those old days when we were all just campers; people who loved the woods and the outdoors, willing to endure the requisite discomforts of living with just a thin piece of canvas or nylon between yourself, your family and the great outdoors. I should add, though, that we have met some very nice, friendly RV'ers who, regardless of what they drive or drag around, within minutes after you meet them, will be swapping recipes, or be bragging about their grandchildren or pets, and will go out of their way to help you back into that much-too-narrow RV site or crawl under your RV and help you diagnose a systems problem. There are a lot of them out there... and I bet you that they are all former <em>tent campers</em>.George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-44135635049259103972010-02-16T21:33:00.000-05:002010-02-16T21:33:45.917-05:00Enough is Enough, See Ya, Stinky!Well, the stinky RV parked next to us finally drove us away. Every breeze wafted the stink of his cracked black water tank across our site. We didn't want to sit outside and even had to keep our windows closed. Enough was Enough.<br />
<br />
I spoke with the resort (as in "last resort") manager and demanded to be moved. Again. Considering that this was the same manager who told Maureen that she could only handle one problem at a time, I was pleasantly surprised at how cooperative she had become. Perhaps she had heard from one or more of the other RV'ers that we've told our tale of woe to. Maybe she even heard the dreaded acronym "EPA" was being suggested (by us, while chatting with neighbors, as someone we should probably contact to report the ongoing spillage of human waste at the resort). Anyway, she quickly agreed to move us to another site far from "Stinky."<br />
<br />
Highly motivated, we set a new personal best record breaking camp and setting up at our new site. It is now evening and we are relaxing in our trailer, watching "American Idol." Is this damn show on every day of the week, or what? I barely remember when I used to be able to watch MY favorite shows on MY TV. Married life requires so many sacrifices... Sigh ;). We feel content once more, but we're also waiting for the next shoe to drop (or black water tank to split open next door). Remember us in your prayers.George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-33328954708626092932010-02-16T13:07:00.000-05:002010-02-16T13:07:26.840-05:00What, Who, How? No! You're Pulling Our Legs...I have received some questions about some of our experiences. They've wondered if some of the more colorful of our adventures actually happened the way I've portrayed them. How dare they! But wait, to be fair, I can understand how some of my readers, leading the sheltered lives that they have, might find some of our adventurers unbelievable. <br />
<br />
Well, some of these doubters probably have no problem believing that today's movie heroes can fall 30 feet, get shot 20 times, be impaled with a six-foot long two-by-four - and still get up and run 2 miles to make passionate love with an impossibly beautiful and ridiculously over-endowed, puffy-lipped actress. <br />
<br />
Those of us who have embarked on the exciting lifestyle of full-time RV'ng quickly learn the same lesson learned by our pioneer forebearers: "Stuff" happens and it happens more frequently and with more impact when you're RV'ng (or Conestoga wagonning... or whatever RV'ng was called back then). <br />
<br />
To put it succinctly, everything I've written, or will write, happened exactly as portrayed... or as it would have happened... if it had happened... when it happened...<br />
<br />
I hope that clears things up for some of you.<br />
<br />
GeorgeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-70342382360519309012010-02-15T00:13:00.004-05:002010-02-19T21:11:45.597-05:00Fulltiming So Far...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1vxRoTW0p6gHhJ33h7bgNxPbF82JN6-63jXVqbmcL97qocqYhVFlSemqOTSktciXzzPLCxzBvdI0CD4uuusXKRhZdUrIDcrMxZFNx5TYY03No7e943kK6AvBEw-OC1XBSyl1MRyqpAEl/s1600-h/IMG_1992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1vxRoTW0p6gHhJ33h7bgNxPbF82JN6-63jXVqbmcL97qocqYhVFlSemqOTSktciXzzPLCxzBvdI0CD4uuusXKRhZdUrIDcrMxZFNx5TYY03No7e943kK6AvBEw-OC1XBSyl1MRyqpAEl/s320/IMG_1992.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>We have been officially fulltiming for the last month and a half, since January 1st. So why haven't I updated this blog before now? The usual. George made plans and God stood by laughing (Much of the following is snipped from email messages that I have been exchanging with my Washingtonian friend, Hans Gyswyt, he and his family live on a beautiful hobby farm south of Seattle, with a fantastic view of Mt. Ranier - He's of Dutch ancestry and his last name means something like, "Guys Sweat"):<br />
<br />
Here's the Cliff Notes version of our first few weeks of fulltiming:<br />
<br />
1- After a few harried days of last minute packing and carting all of the stuff that was not being brought along on our RV adventure over to a local storage yard, we checked into an RV Resort in Tampa, Florida, reportedly one of the top-rated resorts in the Southeast.<br />
<br />
We decided to check-in on December 31st so that we could attend the resort's New Year's Eve party. I even brought along a blue blazer. I'd show them what RV style was all about! (I know; I've still got so much to learn) What we did was back into our site in the pitch dark (with the help of the resort's "concierge" and a kind, new neighbor, Mike from Minnesota (Ya sure! We're havin' lots of fun now, oh boy!). We stumbled around in the dark, emptying the trailer of things that we put on the floor in order to get out of Trinity and to the RV park in time for the party. We were amazed that what we had stuffed into the SUV and trailer at the last minute had magically and tragically more than doubled in volume. <br />
<br />
It no longer fit back into the car and trailer and a large pile of it had to be constructed outside the trailer with a big blue tarp tossed over it. Our neighbors must have been thrilled by our arrival - in the smallest trailer in the park (Well, almost, but it is brand newish)and already showing the signs of redneck trailer trash, complete with the requisite yard crap piled up by our trailer. And what about the New Years Eve party? No party. We collapsed and fell asleep shortly after arriving. Happy New Year!<br />
<br />
2- When I was planning our nationwide trip, I thought that it would be brilliant to begin our RV tour with a couple of months in Florida; making our way up north and westwardly in March or April. How brilliant was the idea? Not only were we beginning our adventure during Florida's peak tourist (Snow Bird) season, which is traditionally the most expensive time to RV and the toughest time to find an available RV site, but the usually beautiful Florida winter weather of highs in the low 80's and nights in the 60's instead became the start of the 2nd millenium's first ice age.<br />
<br />
3- By the end of the 3rd week, we'd already gone through two 20 lb tanks of propane trying to heat our woefully uninsulated trailer in temperatures that had dropped well below freezing with wind chill (And I didn't want to leave the state too early and risk running into cold weather!). <br />
<br />
I've had four plumbing leaks so far, with the newest one under the sink where the outside water source comes through the wall. After five attempts at tightening, mylar-taping, petroleum jellying, and cursing the pipes to stop the leaks, I finally had to give up (actually it was my back and shoulders that gave up first after being crammed under the kitchen sink for several hours) and decided to remove the high pressure outside water source and go to intermittent inside pumping from the fresh water tank. This will hopefully minimize the amount of leaking until I can get over to the local Camping World for plumbing supplies. <br />
<br />
It took several trips in and out of the trailer in near-zero temperatures with boiling water to pour over the thoroughly frozen hose and pipe connection to finally break it free. We filled our fresh water tank and are now flipping the pump on and off to do our cooking and flush the toilet (did you ever notice that the need to use the toilet increases logrithmically when the plumbing isn't working properly?).<br />
<br />
4- You might ask what could make any of this worse? Well, how about the cold I brought home from Christmas in Tennessee developing into a deep, wheezing cough (sounding something like someone trying to cough up a lung)? We took a ride to a local walk-in clinic for an exam and chest x-ray. I was told that my lungs didn't look too bad, except for scarring left over from past bouts with pneumonia and pulmonary emboli back in 1997, but based on the PA's examination, he decided to play it safe and put me on Levaquin, a powerful 5-day antibiotic regimen. Two hundred bucks. Whoopee!<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
But all of the above, dear reader, is not the worst of it. The worst of it was what happened to our dog, Rocky during our 3rd week at the resort. A day or two earlier, while outside on his lead, he took off after a dog being walked by, hit the end of his lead, which had become wrapped around him, and was flipped into the air and jerked to a stop. He seemed well until two night's later when I took him out for a walk. During the walk, he let out a cry and hiked up his right rear leg several times; as if it was painful to step on it. Then he began to SCREAM. He screamed like a baby in terrible pain. (I know that dogs are not supposed to be able to scream, but trust me - he can - and did) I didn't know what to do, except to get him back to the RV. <br />
<br />
When I lifted him to put him in through the door, he screamed again and bit me badly on my right hand, puncturing the skin between my index and middle fingers and lacerating the back of my hand.<br />
<br />
When I put him down on the floor inside the RV, he paced around and around with a crazed look in his eyes. He was obviously still in terrible pain and we didn't know what to do for him. It was a terrible, helpless feeling. We finally got him to take some Benadryl tablets dipped in peanut butter, but it didn't help. At one point, he jumped up on the bed, wrapped his paws around my arm and gave me a look that could only be interpreted as, "Please, help me!" And then he bit me on the chest. <br />
<br />
Mo was terrified of being bitten and tried to stay as far away from him as possible. He finally exhausted himself (or the Benadryl kicked in) and fell asleep on the couch. We were afraid to fall asleep that night, scared that he might wake up in pain again and leap into our bed, crying in pain and biting everything within reach.<br />
<br />
The next morning we arranged to rush him up to our regular vet in Trinity. I threw a blanket over him and lifted him into the car. The ride was terrible. Every bump caused him to scream and thrash around. At the vet they muzzled him and took him into the back for a pain shot and x-rays.<br />
<br />
While waiting for the vet's diagnosis, Maureen and I went to a walk-in clinic to get my hand looked after. I got a tetanus shot and prescription for Augmentin, an antibiotic. I had to fill out a form reporting the dog bite; the impact of which I would learn about 20 minutes later when I got a call from Pasco County's Animal Control Office. They told me that state law required that the dog be inspected and isolated for a period of 10 days. I complained that the dog wasn't sick; he was in pain and bit only me; his owner. The officer insisted that the letter of the law would be followed and that I shouldn't be surprised if the Hillsborough County Animal Control Officer showed up at the RV park and demanded to see the dog and make sure that it was being isolated.<br />
<br />
Well, I guess more rational minds got involved at some point and decided to drop the whole thing. No one has shown up at the resort as of now and I don't expect them to.<br />
<br />
The doctor told us that the x-xrays showed that Rocky has misaligned vertebrae in his neck and lower back and may now suffer from chronic pain (well, that makes two of us). I have to admit that, seeing my old friend in all of that pain and, at the time, believing that nothing could be done to "cure" him, I seriously considered putting him down. It would have killed me, it really would have, but seeing him in all that pain... The vet insisted that we give Rocky another chance and suggested that he keep him there at the animal hospital for several days to let him heal. <br />
<br />
We went back 3 days later, not knowing what to expect, other than what the vet had told us: Rocky was walking, peeing, pooping, and doing all of the stuff he loves to do. Thank God he seemed okay when we picked him up; he whined hello, rubbed against us, and basically acted as if nothing untoward had happened during the past few days. <br />
<br />
We got a batch of medications to give him, including prednisone, a muscle relaxant, and a pain killer. As of today, Rocky is back to his old self, but we're constantly fretting over him, worrying about the last advice the vet gave us, "Just don't let him jump." Yeah, right!<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
This morning's weather news announced that it was more than 20 degrees warmer in Seattle than right here in sunny, funny, flippin' FREEZING Florida.<br />
<br />
That frigid evening I emailed my friend Hans in Washington to tell him that he was really pissing me off with all those reports about the great weather that they were having up in Washington. I told him that it wasn't fair, or funny, for anywhere that close to Canada to be having warmer weather than Florida, for cryin' out loud.<br />
<br />
In addition to our propane-fired furnace, we've got a small electric heater. I bought it last year at K-Mart with the help of my son Patrick before we headed up to my son Matthew's house in Tennessee. It has a built-in, very quiet fan. It cycles back and forth to distribute the heat. It's among the best 20-something buck things I've ever bought, although, like mostly everything else today, it was probably made in China...<br />
<br />
Shortly after arriving at the resort, Maureen and I went to Wallyworld and picked up a bunch of really big and inexpensive RED storage bins. They were on sale and I guess aimed at the Christmas decorations storage market (or maybe the trailer crap crowd). I've got them lined up in the back of the SUV with our "overflow;" stuff that we never should have brought along; like 30 tee shirts, the blue blazer, 8 ties, 30 pair of socks, enough linens to supply a small hotel, 24 pair of Mo's shoes and boots, 3 bags of my beloved books equalling about 600 pounds of paper and print, a small pony and a partridge in a pear tree.<br />
<br />
We're planning more trips back to the storage unit whenever it's necessary to drop off more stuff before we head down to Naples. It'll be interesting to see how much of MY stuff versus MAUREEN'S stuff ends up being ditched in the storage unit. Some of my stuff is really important to have along, especially in an emergency. I have this reoccurring nightmare about finding myself in Brownsville, Texas on a Friday night in May without my beloved left-handed Craftsman toilet bowl wrench... OMG, what would I do?<br />
<br />
Well, I've got to get back to pretending to be listening to Maureen tell me for the thousanth time that this full time RVing idea was probably the dumbest thing I've ever come up with (it isn't, I've had lots of dumber ideas!) while I grumble about leaky pipes and try to cough up another lung...<br />
<br />
Not to worry, though. It's all part of the adventure, right? Or at least that's what I keep telling myself and Maureen in order to resist running off screaming to a hotel somewhere.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
I know that things will get better when it gets warmer (Please, someone tell me that it will). And I haven't forgotten that there are weirdoes (I'm not mentioning any names here, Hans) who actually enjoy cold weather and camp in the snow with their windows wide open! And I am not a being a big baby!<br />
<br />
There were times early in our marriage when Maureen and I took the kids up into the mountains in New England and Virginia to tent camp where the temps dropped into the 30s at night. We have to remind ourselves that we actually did such things and that we weren't ACTUALLY abusing our young children, at least not legally. I think. We're sure that the kids thoroughly enjoyed those frigid mornings, sitting there in their cute little snowsuits on their highchairs in the middle of the woods, trying to break through the ice in their oatmeal; although they never actually talk about the experience and sometimes start shaking and break out sobbing when we reminisce (I'm sure it's due to all of the joyful memories).<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
I am feeling better today, having survived another bout with bronchitis/pneumonia and am now trying to recover from the effects of the antibiotic on my digestive system. Maureen bought me some Activa yogurt and Euchinuba (sic), which are supposed to bring your system back into <br />
balance after killing off all of your helpful gut bacteria.<br />
<br />
I installed anchors for the awning and anti-flap devices (clamps that keep the awning from flapping too much on a windy day), something that I've been wanting to do since the last mad dash out into the freezing, windy night to save the awning from ripping off the trailer.<br />
<br />
My next project is to fix several leaks that are still causing trouble. We've been on an on-again-off-again inside pump regimen whenever we need water in order to reduce the amount of leaking (by the trailer; not me). <br />
<br />
At some point I also want to come up with some ideas to improve our bathroom "experience." I've decided that the bathroom in our trailer had to have been designed for or by dwarves. I can't sit on the toilet without my knees digging into the door (Maureen likes me to keep the door closed while I'm in there - even after nearly 45 years, she still likes to have some mystery in our relationship). Taking a shower involves several complex yoga positions and invariably ends up with water all over the floor.<br />
<br />
BTW, we saw the new movie "Avatar." Maureen, who normally doesn't like Sci-Fi, raves about it to everyone she meets. It was a wonderful cowboys-and-indians type of movie, with white men driving the indigenous people off their land so that they can build an RV resort (actually, in this story, it's all about mineral rights). It's a story that's been told hundreds of times in as many movies, but this one, in IMAX 3D, will blow your socks off (you people do wear socks up there in Washington, don't you Hans?). Go see it. You do have moving pictures up there don't you? <br />
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*****<br />
<br />
This story just keeps getting better and better. If I'm lying I'm dying. I told Maureen that I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in a never-ending Seinfeld episode:<br />
<br />
I hadn't told you that we had to change sites on February 1st when we decided to stay another month here at the RV Ice Age theme park. They gave us permission to pack up and move in a day early on Sunday, January 31st. I had a doctor's appointment on Monday the 1st and didn't want to move to a different site and try to get to the doctor on time.<br />
<br />
Maureen wasn't very happy about our new site, even though it was on a cul-de-sac (Which everyone knows is the perfect place to live) and was just across the street from the water (The bayou in the park's name), because it was also very close to a busy road with lots of traffic. We decided to make the best of it, though, so we packed everything up and drove over to the new site - only to find a big 5th wheeler already occupying our new spot, with no owner in sight. <br />
<br />
Sitting in the middle of the road with my trailer behind me, I called the front office to complain. Who was in our new site? They didn't know, but they shouldn't be there, we were told. GREAT! They then went away to discuss options, which turned out to be another site - for just one night - and then they would move us again. I guess that I got a little angry at that point and told her NO - I did not want to have to move again in one day and wanted a long-term site then and there. <br />
<br />
I was soon surrounded by golf carts, workers and the office manager, who suggested that I back up and into an empty site that was right behind where I was idling. GREAT! We got in quickly, glad that we wouldn't have to move again. Everything looked good. That is until we got out and looked at our new site. NO CONCRETE PAD AND NO TABLE! I asked the helper guys if they could go get me a pad (Which are 8 by 15 feet of concrete). They just stared at me, not understanding it was just my frustrated attempt at some northern humor.<br />
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After they left, Mo and I took care of the no-table problem. We raided a neighboring site and stole their table. SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST! ARGHH!<br />
<br />
After changing out of our Ninja gear (That black face paint is really a pain to remove), we once again tried to relax and settle into our new home site. That is until we began to detect the unmistakable smell of raw sewage. <br />
<br />
I quickly tracked it down to the big 5th wheeler parked next door. No car or truck there either (Where do all these people go after setting up?). I checked it out and noticed a constant drip coming from under the RV. Eau-de-Poopoo... Once again I called the front office (By now I had them on speed-dial) and was soon joined by the helper guys on their golf carts. One crawled under the neighboring RV and announced that, not only was there a leak, but the black water tank (The one under the toilet) was split open and there was "crud" seeping out and hanging down from the crack. GREAT! <br />
<br />
While one of the guys went off to get some lime to throw on the effluence (which is a euphemism for CRAP), Mo and I discussed the best ways to commit suicide. One of the helper guys told me that he had believed that the trailer was empty and in storage. They didn't seem to know that the mysterious stinky RV resident (That's stinky RV, although who knows; he might be stinky, too.), who comes and goes in the dark, even lived there. The owner pays the rent by phone every month. Very mysterious...<br />
<br />
I saw the guy later that day (he looked like an escaped convict or, as Mo quickly decided, a pedophile). He was carrying something heavy out of the trailer. It was wrapped up in a carpet and was dripping dark fluid on the ground. (No, I'm just kidding - It wasn't a carpet, it was a bedspread) He told me that the black tank had "exploded" "just the other day" (Which I quickly decided was B.S., it had probably frozen and cracked open during our brief ice age in January). He went on to say that he had already ordered a replacement (probably also B.S. - in fact, we spotted him a week later, crawling around under his RV with a tape measure - LIAR!). <br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
Another storm blew in today and Mo and I had to scamper around, rolling up the awning and securing loose objects in the SUV and under the picnic table. We were just finishing up when a driving rain started. As we were drying off in the trailer, there was a knock on the door. <br />
<br />
It was one of the helper guys again. He asked me if they could move our outdoor carpet, table and other stuff behind the trailer so that they could come in early the next morning and begin putting down forms for a new concrete pad. I just stood there staring at him, amazed that they had actually taken me literally when I asked them to go off and get a pad <br />
for our site! <br />
<br />
Stunned by this offer, I asked him how we were supposed to get in and out of our trailer while they were pouring concrete and we were waiting for it to harden. No problem! He replied, We'll put down some boards across the curing concrete so that you can get in and out. I reminded him that I don't walk with a cane because I want to look dashing (Although I've been told that I do - look dashing, that is), but because I have a movement disorder AND, BTW, I've got a dog who was just diagnosed as having back problems and has to be carried in and out of the trailer.<br />
<br />
Based on all of this, I said, NO, I don't want a pad anymore and why don't they come back with their shovels and concrete once we leave at the end of the month! He just stared at me with this you-have-to-be-kidding look, like who in their right mind would turn down a free patio? Then he told me that my suggestion might be a problem (for who, I wondered?) and that he would have to talk to the people in the front office and see what they have to say about it (Have you ever noticed that there're always these mysterious THEY people that decide everything in this world?)... <br />
<br />
I am not making any of this up! Does this kind of stuff happen up in your neck of the woods? <br />
<br />
I'm beginning to think that I might be cursed. Or maybe it's Mo... Hmm...<br />
<br />
Frustrated in Florida,<br />
George<br />
<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
I forgot to mention the other "event" that occurred shortly after we finished setting up in our new site here at Bay Bayou.<br />
<br />
I had just settled in for a long winter's nap when up on the roof there arose such a clatter that I leapt from my bed to see what was the matter - no, wait, that's a different story - when I heard a crunch and a clatter just outside my RV. When I looked out the window, I noticed what appeared to be a brand new 5th wheeler trailer stopped at the corner where it had been entering our cul-de-sac. When I looked more carefully, I noticed what looked like a support brace for an awning lying on the ground next to the trailer. Looking upward, I saw that the upper edge of the RV was hard up against a large branch jutting out of the tree that was growing on the corner. I also noticed that about five feet of the awning was mashed and the rear support strut was missing.<br />
<br />
What I didn't understand at first was why several people were on their knees looking under the trailer (Help had arrived at this point - I had called the front office again - they must just love me up there). Then I realized that the big limestone boulder that used to sit on the corner was missing. It was now under the RV. Not only did he ruin his awning, but he ran over the boulder, which got hung up on his left rear stabilizer jack and nearly tore it off the bottom of the trailer.<br />
<br />
I really felt sorry for the guy; that is until I spoke with some of my neighbors about the accident and was told that the guy wasn't even driving the rig - his wife was.<br />
<br />
Oh, boy, I'll bet the those two had an interesting conversation once the strangers left!<br />
<br />
Your fellow camper, <br />
George<br />
<br />
P.S. The resort's maintenance guys showed up this morning, along with one of the managers. <br />
<br />
Despite our insistance that they postpone adding a concrete pad to our site until after we've left at the end of the month, we were informed that they were going to begin digging up and building forms on our "front yard" that very morning, whether we wanted them to or not. When Mo started complaining that we would rather they didn't, the manager retorted, "Well, you've got a lot of stuff stored outside of your RV that shouldn't be there!" Mo didn't know what to say, considering at that point, the only things that were out there was THEIR (stolen/re-allocated) picnic table, two new red bins, with tops, two recliners, and two folding chairs (and 12 pipers piping... no, I'm just kidding!). Mo (bless her little heart) responded to that remark by commenting that she, the manager, had bigger problems than our patio stuff that she should be concerned with, like THE HUMAN WASTE LEAKING OUT OF THE RV PARKED NEXT TO US! <br />
<br />
I thought that Mo had nailed her with that comeback, but the manager just shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I can only handle one problem at a time." Which meant, I guess, that she was currently handling this problem, namely US, and was too busy to handle the rapidly-becoming-an-EPA-supersite just 20 feet away...<br />
<br />
Till next time...<br />
<br />
P.P.S. We are now the proud renters of a brand-new 8'X15' patio. They even built us a nice little two-foot boardwalk connecting the patio to the bottom of our trailer's steps. Ah, life is good, sometimes!<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
My sixty-fifth birthday was on Valentine's Day. Maureen decided that this year, being the official year when we enter old age) she would buy me a colonics treatment at a local spa (So sweet!). Actually, she was going to, but didn't have enough money, so she went to Wahlgreen's and bought me an enema bag instead... ;)<br />
<br />
Just for future reference, just in case anyone presents you with one some day, make sure that you fill the bag with WARM soapy water; not BOILING soapy water... In addition, make sure that you use a mild soap, like Ivory, and not bubble bath. Now, every time I fart, I blow bubbles. Although, I must admit, they are FRAGRANT bubbles. ;)<br />
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GeorgeGeorge and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-12197404067741094252009-09-16T20:42:00.008-04:002009-09-17T21:04:28.641-04:00Hit The Road Jack...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfZHMx8NY41_oE454XGytBMyOCH0ICsH7QOCOyeCWp2drz1MYcfkZ1NGaRQ_pSAjjI6s1lH-wAwAyS6hginDazBgzerbRjPuAHj7icmdbSJN1wk8du66x8k1aUg2FglKapOj5HXdkcu_Q/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfZHMx8NY41_oE454XGytBMyOCH0ICsH7QOCOyeCWp2drz1MYcfkZ1NGaRQ_pSAjjI6s1lH-wAwAyS6hginDazBgzerbRjPuAHj7icmdbSJN1wk8du66x8k1aUg2FglKapOj5HXdkcu_Q/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382275322104963634" border="0" /></a>Some of life's greatest decisions are forced upon us; they may not be what we wanted or felt prepared to do at the time, but the situation warranted action and, ready or not, we acted. The results of such momentous decisions are often not what we imagined; what seemed like an absolute disaster or a golden opportunity may turn out to be the opposite, or not really the big deal we had imagined.<br /><br />We just made a decision that didn't need to be made; to radically change our lives during a time when others are looking for security and peace; calm days without many surprises, satisfaction with the status quo, avoidance of all things stressful and chaotic. Well, I'll admit that, as those of you who know Maureen and I will readily acknowledge, our lives during the last dozen years have not been anyone's idea of idyllic.<br /><br />My problems have been mostly physical and Maureen's major problem has been me. During a pity party that I held for myself last year, while recuperating from what has become my once or twice-a-year bout with pneumonia, I got to remembering some of my unrealized dreams. I'll be the first to agree that I've lead a pretty interesting life; action-packed with four children, several moves, lots of international travel and the adventure of thirty years of fun-filled corporate life. Even so, there was a dream that I had always wanted to fulfill and was starting to lose sight of; traveling around the U.S. by RV with Maureen.<br /><br />Before becoming disabled, there seemed to be plenty of time left to do all those things on our lifelist. Since then, though, some dreams had been postponed till some ill-defined time in the future, or ruled out altogether. Well, I decided that I wasn't going to let go of our dream to go RV'ng. And by RV'ng, I mean fulltime; as in motoring off into the sunset for as far and for as long as we wanted. Maureen and I have always loved camping and traveling. We're like two little kids when it comes to road trips; we love to discover and be amazed by the beauty of nature and the calming effect of an early morning breakfast sitting at a picnic table with a view of the mountains in the distance and the sound of a burbling brook at our feet.<br /><br />During the next four months we will be packing things that will be going into storage and getting rid of anything we don't need anymore (that would be anything that's mine and yes Tony, that means getting rid of more of my books!). I'm still struggling with what to do with my hobby car; the Celica. We could definitely use the money, since much of the RV'ng stuff that will make it easier to fulltime; like a generator, multiple deep cycle batteries, a screened porch (for when we can't stand another moment of being within ten feet of each other) and other things that will make camping more like... well, more like, hmmm, being at home...<div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV77anpM6hPOAQM2udMK9hduWoFNpdDhR_WbFZJpAyfyFFDapj5w5DP_husjR8dpGEQdsfNsZWb-CzveCF9OjWQAkjiI6cC7adTUrLlc63j3LDk7GvxxUbtlhGlvNO4BhsDYKHalMnKM9K/s1600-h/Mo+at+Mama+Gerties,+NC.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV77anpM6hPOAQM2udMK9hduWoFNpdDhR_WbFZJpAyfyFFDapj5w5DP_husjR8dpGEQdsfNsZWb-CzveCF9OjWQAkjiI6cC7adTUrLlc63j3LDk7GvxxUbtlhGlvNO4BhsDYKHalMnKM9K/s320/Mo+at+Mama+Gerties,+NC.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382272754710868370" border="0" /></a>Well, selling the Celica would fund all of these purchases right off the bat so that we can "boondock" (live the life of a rich and famous redneck) wherever and whenever we want to. It's actually a great way to save money and the only way to stay in some of the most beautiful state and national forests, which often have no hookups; no electricity, no water, no sewer hookups, NO CABLE TV! But, those parks are often the most beautiful; like those along the Skyline Drive in the Blue Ridge Mountains National Park in Virginia.<br /><br />So stay tuned, by the end of the year we plan to be off and running, probably down to the Keys and around Florida to begin with and then off to the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone and points Westward.George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-11934393568010844062009-07-31T22:22:00.006-04:002009-08-02T16:57:55.080-04:00June 2009 Trip to Fort Meyers & Sanibel Island, FL<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpf-MIcGI/AAAAAAAAAhk/e7he54JQNfo/s400/IMG_2285.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpf-MIcGI/AAAAAAAAAhk/e7he54JQNfo/s400/IMG_2285.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpf-MIcGI/AAAAAAAAAhk/e7he54JQNfo/s400/IMG_2285.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpjpzdRCI/AAAAAAAAAiA/jJeqpAe_Xo4/s400/IMG_2284.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">It was the first week in June, 2009 and our trailer, still parked on our driveway (so far the Homeowners Association was leaving us alone), was "nagging" us to get back on the road. We decided to spend a few days in southern Florida, visiting <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/albumMap?uname=menmo8434&aid=5346240579793624689&authkey=Gv1sRgCK74k8aBqKCwZg#map">Fort Meyers and Sanibel Island</a>, (click to see Google trip map) the latter being famous for its sea shells. The last time we had visited the area was some 35 years ago. We would learn that the area was much more developed than we remembered and, if there had ever been a famous collection of tropical seashells, lying around on the beach and ready for the collecting, they were long gone by the time we got there.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We chose to stay at the Indian Creek RV and Mobile Home Resort. It was huge. During their busy season, October through May, their population swells to more than 3,000 residents. During the summer, when the temperature hits the 90s and stays there, the snowbirds flee for their (hopefully) cooler northern homes and the park is pretty much deserted.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The park was pristine. Everything was clean and well maintained. Here's the park's pool and activities building.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpgYHqklI/AAAAAAAAAho/nfAmPuEBPVE/s400/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpgYHqklI/AAAAAAAAAho/nfAmPuEBPVE/s400/IMG_2279.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Here's a view down the main drag. You can see some of the MANY mobile/manufactured ("mobile home" isn't really politically correct anymore; people prefer to refer to their factory-built homes as "manufactured"). The "Campsites" are shoe-horned in, wherever there's space (as in an empty lot; we saw evidence on our site of a previous, fixed MOBILE home that had been removed sometime in the past).<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpgYHqklI/AAAAAAAAAho/nfAmPuEBPVE/s400/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGphJ0blII/AAAAAAAAAhs/jhtreA79ZMs/s400/IMG_2280.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here's evidence of where 5th wheeler trailers may go to retire. This one's elevated up on a 4 foot base. I couldn't decide whether it was sad or "green," as in good, recycled...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpgYHqklI/AAAAAAAAAho/nfAmPuEBPVE/s400/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGphtv-hLI/AAAAAAAAAhw/YSVzcBolkO4/s400/IMG_2281.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">And here's our street. Our spot was 4 sites down on the left. Gravel drive, large concrete pad, and water, electricity, sewer and cable TV hookups, with about 10 feet between neighbors.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpgYHqklI/AAAAAAAAAho/nfAmPuEBPVE/s400/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpiTY3AUI/AAAAAAAAAh0/UtCPYIa378Q/s400/IMG_2282.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">As I've said, the park was HUGE and DESERTED, with only a handful of full-time residents still around, spread out all over the place. The roadways were a virtual spider's web, laid out in sort of a grid pattern, but also twisting and turning around the various ponds and park buildings. And this is where the "highlight" of our trip comes in:<br /></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">George and Rocky's Late Night Adventure</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Rocky decided that he had to go for a walk at 11:30 PM the night we arrived. No big deal, I walk him all the time. He gets constipated from sitting in a car all day, just like me. The difference this time was the size of the park and the fact that I forgot to take my cell phone, flashlight and BRAIN along with me when I set out. To makes matters worse, I gave Rocky the lead and he decided that he wanted to take a LONG walk.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Again, no problem, the streets were named and the sites were numbered, but - remember - I forgot to take my brain along for the walk. 20 minutes after setting out I knew that I was lost. I knew that we were set up on site number 36 and I was standing in front of site 445, but I had no idea which way to go to get "home." 45 minutes into our walk, both Rocky and I were very tired and still lost. I began trying to backtrack, looking for familiar streets or homes that we had passed. The problem was that every street had an Indian name that sounded a lot like every other Indian street name and most of the homes looked alike. It was then that I began assuming that I might have to sleep on someone's front porch that night.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I did walk past a couple of semi-darkened homes during my trek and did consider knocking on the door and asking for help, but several things stopped me from doing so:<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">1- Embarrassment over my situation.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2- My male genetic conditioning that MEN NEVER ASK DIRECTIONS. And -<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">3- It was late at night and the owner might be elderly (maybe even more so than me) and knocking on their door might cause a heart attack or result in me getting SHOT.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Days later (not really; it just felt like it) Rocky and I were still lost. The only difference in our situation was that I was now carrying Rocky, who had given up on walking even another two steps. Even after I reminded him that the walk had been HIS idea. (He's not too good about accepting responsibility for his decisions and usually blames me — as in "Don't look at me! You're the HUMAN!")<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Well, we didn't get eaten by an alligator or die from hunger or thirst, but I did think that I'd die from embarrassment when a car finally drove up and, after I threw myself in front of it to make it stop, I had to sheepishly explain that the old guy (me, cane and all, carrying his little dog) had gotten lost and needed HELP. At first the guy driving wouldn't open his window to talk to me, maybe thinking that I was really a terrorist pretending to be a 64-year old retired guy (with cane and terrier). He just sat in there and stared out at me. After raising my voice and waving my arms about, he finally lowered his window a few inches and no, he didn't offer me a ride, or even explicit directions, but he did point vaguely off into the distance and suggest I head that way. And then he was gone and I was ready to lie down in the middle of the street with Rocky and wait, whimpering, for either death or morning.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">It was then that I heard a very faint call from way off in the distance: "George! G-E-O-R-G-E! <span style="font-weight: bold;">GEORGE!</span>" It was Maureen! After nearly an hour, she had finally torn herself away from "America's Got Talent" and had gone looking for me. Good wife! I tried returning her call, which she claims she never heard, and then began stumbling in the direction of her voice, totally exhausted from the day's adventures.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Well, a few minutes later, a vehicle approached and I was rescued by a stranger in an SUV. He informed me that Maureen was looking for me and was going to kill me when she got a hold of me for forgetting to take my phone along on my walk (She has funny ways of showing her affection for me). It was then that I realized that Maureen was sitting there in the dark, inside the SUV next to her new best friend, Henry. We, or they, actually, had a good laugh about her retarded/senile husband as they drove me back to our trailer. It turned out that Maureen had seen the man pulling out of his homesite when she (finally) went out looking for me and threw herself in front of his car, begging for help in finding her darling, but stupid husband. And that was that, although if any of you mention this story in the future, I've decided to deny it ever happened.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The rest of our 4-day stay was thankfully uneventful. The next day we decided to check out Fort Meyers and Sanibel Island. Just as we were about to leave the park a tourist "trolley" went by. We fell in behind it and followed along through FT Meyers and onto Sanibel, as the following photos attest:<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpkThQQdI/AAAAAAAAAiI/scJRXimlOmU/s400/IMG_2287.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpkhBr-wI/AAAAAAAAAiM/hQEGUGDvIPE/s400/IMG_2288.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGplGhLvJI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/uWsaC2OeGsg/s400/IMG_2289.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpmgwXXGI/AAAAAAAAAic/lpXX5WIPAgo/s400/IMG_2292.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpnn5P5KI/AAAAAAAAAik/d8uaih9bFD0/s400/IMG_2295.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpoTMwOLI/AAAAAAAAAio/SsdlvFGXVXs/s400/IMG_2296.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpoTMwOLI/AAAAAAAAAio/SsdlvFGXVXs/s400/IMG_2296.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGppAIjVLI/AAAAAAAAAis/KcTr4Z_Wz8M/s400/IMG_2297.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Scenes from the beach:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpj6ABriI/AAAAAAAAAiE/fK3bS_Emlws/s400/IMG_2286.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpqXhxDgI/AAAAAAAAAi4/SIz4aW8OdYU/s400/IMG_2303.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpq0521_I/AAAAAAAAAi8/XV3dV0UqfuI/s400/IMG_2304.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpq0521_I/AAAAAAAAAi8/XV3dV0UqfuI/s400/IMG_2304.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Some trailer park trash that I met in the parking lot...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpryZhf-I/AAAAAAAAAjI/4qMO0gqdE4U/s400/IMG_2306.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpryZhf-I/AAAAAAAAAjI/4qMO0gqdE4U/s400/IMG_2306.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Oops! No! Sorry, it's Maureen! Hee hee.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpslKXRII/AAAAAAAAAjM/skuaWxK_vcI/s400/IMG_2307.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 400px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGpslKXRII/AAAAAAAAAjM/skuaWxK_vcI/s400/IMG_2307.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I noticed this old guy hanging around the parking lot. I thought that he looked familiar and, strangely, he was wearing the same clothes as me and was carrying a small dog that looked a lot like Rocky... Hmm, weird...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGptIrIFuI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/Y2okHi3upYc/s400/IMG_2308.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wKRgwcl2ST8/SjGptIrIFuI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/Y2okHi3upYc/s400/IMG_2308.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lessons learned during this trip:</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">1- Don't go South to go camping in the Summer; It's just as humid, but much hotter down there.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2- Don't go out walking the dog late at night in an unfamiliar park; send your wife out instead.<br /></div></div>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-40253474115152547292009-05-07T19:51:00.082-04:002009-05-14T14:13:05.324-04:00Easter 2009 RV TripThis would be our first "big" trip. About 2,000 miles, from home to one overnight stop in Georgia, to Matthew's home in Tennessee, to Pigeon Forge, TN, to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park and Cades Cove (which we last visited when Jenny and Chris were little kids and Matthew and Patrick were not yet born, some 35 years ago), to Asheville, NC to visit the largest single family dwelling in the United States; the Vanderbilt's Biltmore Estate, and then a couple of overnight stops before getting back home in Florida.<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14K9PSTB-zeVSBUiOjO9k57-8IKGncfXJTMOxhtkCAcZtTdy-VAW6LeebAtCUQPZgsLlyUoJOe9PXgmKnZdpmxszYA5LIdyZcj8fTPJA14KCNp9AMSn6BfI34lTOKIKF6jF3EdwHlDpp8/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+004.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 236px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333235645865332978" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14K9PSTB-zeVSBUiOjO9k57-8IKGncfXJTMOxhtkCAcZtTdy-VAW6LeebAtCUQPZgsLlyUoJOe9PXgmKnZdpmxszYA5LIdyZcj8fTPJA14KCNp9AMSn6BfI34lTOKIKF6jF3EdwHlDpp8/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+004.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div>We left home on April 9th and planned to stay away until the 1st week in May. Our first stop was at the Twin Oaks CG (Campground) in Elko, Ga. It was a very nice park, with friendly managers and neat sites. It is close to the Georgia Fairgrounds and can be very busy during events at the fairgrounds.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK97O5xq9cAXDitHJ2xlb8V_OU6daHdM9RLNPxxraSINGdtPLH_eHW0-K1TcmofIscE5Dj3DeROpG2KsFbfJVwDZITCRcQAZtNuyV_9dF06irnL8iV27DKS6VJg4QbDkY7d6roCClZxTQ/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px; display: block; height: 221px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335133974771768274" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPK97O5xq9cAXDitHJ2xlb8V_OU6daHdM9RLNPxxraSINGdtPLH_eHW0-K1TcmofIscE5Dj3DeROpG2KsFbfJVwDZITCRcQAZtNuyV_9dF06irnL8iV27DKS6VJg4QbDkY7d6roCClZxTQ/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+002.jpg" border="0" /></a></p></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">By Friday afternoon we were heading past Atlanta, always a challenge because of its seemingly 24/7 heavy traffic. But Atlanta's traffic would prove to be a cake walk compared to what awaited us further North on the way into Chattanooga, TN.<br /><br />There had been one or more tornadoes during the days before our arrival in Chattanooga. On Friday, as we approached the Tennessee state line, we were hit with a torrential, near-zero visibility rain and hailstorm. As the rain and hail pounded down on our rig, Rocky, who does NOT like even a mild rainstorm or thunder, tried to climb up onto Maureen's head. He was either trying to get away from the storm or was trying to protect her head. Your guess is as good as ours.<br /><br />Anyway, traffic speed went to near zero, with trucks, RVs, and cars pulling over and trying to squeeze under the overpasses for some little bit of protection. Maureen kept reminding me that she had heard that the safest thing to do was to abandon your vehicle and lie flat in any ditch that you might find along the roadside. Well, the ditches were flooded with water at that moment and I didn't think that Rocky would vote for abandoning the SUV. So I decided to keep the nearest semi's lights a few tenths of a mile in front of me, just at the edge of my vision, and crawl forward, hopefully following him out of the storm — which is just what happened.<br /><br />With rain and hail pounding down on us, we finally broke out from under the storm and headed for our next stopover point, the "Best Holiday Trav-L-Park" just outside of Chattanooga.<br /><br />Our GPS device's announcement that we had arrived at our destination proved to be a bit premature. As we drove up Mack Smith Road, looking for the entrance to the campground, Helga (the name we've given to our GPS) informed us to take the next right and we'd be at our destination — which I did — right into a mobile home park with speed bumps every 20 feet or so. I knew we were in the wrong place, but I had to follow the road, since there was nowhere to turn the rig around. As the SUV and trailer bounced over speed bump after speed bump and I imagined the contents of our trailer flying around and smashing. When I finally turned down a street that had an exit sign at its end, a helpful resident finally appeared and, waving his arms, signaled the way out — which we had already seen and considered his directions helpful, but a bit late.<br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><p align="center"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1nW2_WYGS7QrDY3bf3j4Kt-n5pgxasfNIJP3y17SyN4qgsUBSg6HDxamAYq84aDgdCk-39ODYXP6KrU4yXEJMXKxKn7bi-DB1QemK3ustDO8TQ36-wMXW2BWk0uiP8FT6K2XT09TdZ3W/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+007-1.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 315px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333602149886548050" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1nW2_WYGS7QrDY3bf3j4Kt-n5pgxasfNIJP3y17SyN4qgsUBSg6HDxamAYq84aDgdCk-39ODYXP6KrU4yXEJMXKxKn7bi-DB1QemK3ustDO8TQ36-wMXW2BWk0uiP8FT6K2XT09TdZ3W/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+007-1.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div align="center"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >("Halt! Who goes there?)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSv8vk1CLKzkePCC2xv0_fePza2Vd_3WYKFBjssZNl6s1HYeL4-2jktfahap2ZXthRW_tPH7XNSQOljZN8unf2yF0Dg9jArlqrFm83SYvSVLWw9LGYU2u1ZHcK3gC-CPJ2aJZJ0EcPCfD/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+007.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 223px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333665529084553106" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSv8vk1CLKzkePCC2xv0_fePza2Vd_3WYKFBjssZNl6s1HYeL4-2jktfahap2ZXthRW_tPH7XNSQOljZN8unf2yF0Dg9jArlqrFm83SYvSVLWw9LGYU2u1ZHcK3gC-CPJ2aJZJ0EcPCfD/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+007.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">A half mile further up Mack Smith Road was the entrance to the CG. We thankfully checked in and left everything hooked up, in case of a tornado and the need for a quick exit (to where?), but actually because our nerves were shot and we were exhausted.<br /><br />I really don't remember all that much about the park, other than it was filled with puddles and that a threatening black sky hung overhead, warning of more torrential rain at any moment. We just prayed that there wouldn't be any more tornadoes, which we learned had killed two people that week in Tennessee near Matt's home. Rocky's walking schedule was all mixed up and he wanted to go out for a walk every 15 minutes. He finally gave up and went to sleep after I walked him at around 2 AM. It had not been a good day, but we were safe and unharmed.<br /><br />On Saturday we left a little late (we had slept in after a lousy night) and headed for Matt's house. Along the way, we spotted trees along the highway that had been ripped apart by a tornado. We prayed that the storms were over and that Matt and his family would be safe.<br />We learned from our last trip that Helga didn't know how to find Matt's home as it is in a newly built neighborhood. Still exhausted from yesterday's horror show, all we wanted to do was to get to Matt's and collapse. Helga had other ideas and sent us right by Matt's street. One of the first things you learn about pulling a trailer is that they don't turn around on a dime. I had to go more than a mile past Matt's street before I found a suitable place to turn around and go back.<br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcgimnjbkzh1LUd5v1F178NLedv3zKOivjOffn7hbitjycK67AKqDistdwwFT-2AvCOAq2ZAeNU9837pOZ6p8gigDBcezdcW7A2BB3TUwB86w-4AGSUsVVqI8kSXuSyhH6x-_TrCVqlZM/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+018.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 292px; float: right; height: 203px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333622450407096338" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcgimnjbkzh1LUd5v1F178NLedv3zKOivjOffn7hbitjycK67AKqDistdwwFT-2AvCOAq2ZAeNU9837pOZ6p8gigDBcezdcW7A2BB3TUwB86w-4AGSUsVVqI8kSXuSyhH6x-_TrCVqlZM/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+018.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh836OMPL7V_VCMmlRZPK1uc4yHJ1kkQKMQ-FJ0FImpWgbnd_EQbBDnjzDumdGm9hyNa6p0CVwbw1qOy6kCWcuvG0-HrphvfbcsHlS1agSxYSkOHuuxRjpg3fV-HyUNFspzDKeb9EjJYkS/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+017.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 210px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333618741144993794" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh836OMPL7V_VCMmlRZPK1uc4yHJ1kkQKMQ-FJ0FImpWgbnd_EQbBDnjzDumdGm9hyNa6p0CVwbw1qOy6kCWcuvG0-HrphvfbcsHlS1agSxYSkOHuuxRjpg3fV-HyUNFspzDKeb9EjJYkS/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+017.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLWHFfHQ1nbzrwpOsagPYi8JkWz0s-zVQEaGaEP4mLmAX00Js4IX1DRuWGfLtG3dBlVT3ECbnrgxcmjuOuBDk9hFMeOG-FKGSd8rbuFfWPfpNRB2ZIjHhfxW75vzVyeYWChDc6e5kxuMv/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+021.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 279px; float: right; height: 212px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333622570456082514" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLWHFfHQ1nbzrwpOsagPYi8JkWz0s-zVQEaGaEP4mLmAX00Js4IX1DRuWGfLtG3dBlVT3ECbnrgxcmjuOuBDk9hFMeOG-FKGSd8rbuFfWPfpNRB2ZIjHhfxW75vzVyeYWChDc6e5kxuMv/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+021.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /></span></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmbjOympfQ5WPI5ucy3dTcsB_-7dfRtjqwIT80EfZCAU9qyOjRd8s1rZKmRyz6yK4pBCEgnxfm9hhJLWDmvoQyk7Ttt7DWTuDVhb0unWhFL9jhzaO8pQJpjHFHinO5QN7Bl_szxOXl69f/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+022.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 263px; float: right; height: 197px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333621036161232738" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmbjOympfQ5WPI5ucy3dTcsB_-7dfRtjqwIT80EfZCAU9qyOjRd8s1rZKmRyz6yK4pBCEgnxfm9hhJLWDmvoQyk7Ttt7DWTuDVhb0unWhFL9jhzaO8pQJpjHFHinO5QN7Bl_szxOXl69f/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+022.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div><p></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Rocky often seems to know when we're near a destination (he's actually better at it than Helga), especially when he's visited it before. True to form, He starting sniffing at the SUV's air vents miles before we got to the house. After parking the car and hooking him up to his lead, he pulled me out of the car and made a beeline for Matt's front walk. He turned and raced up the walk to the front stoop, just as Matt came out with Rocky's old friend, Roscoe the foxhound. On top of amazing us by remembering which house was Matt's, he began whimpering the way he does when we've left him at home for a day or more and then come home. He has a distinctive whine he voices at those times, welcoming his beloved family back home. Well, Rocky made the same sound that day as he raced right up the front stoop and said hello to his old friend Roscoe (by sniffing Roscoe's butt and then by wrapping his legs around one of Roscoe's rear legs and humping away). Dogs are so amazing...<br /><br />Maureen arranged an Easter egg hunt for the girls on Sunday. They thought that it was great. Maureen had hidden candy-filled plastic eggs and books and other surprises around the backyard. The girls, and especially Kaylin, have a special love for Maureen, who has always been there with Tracie after she got home from the hospital to help take care of the new baby or watch over Kaylin. Both girls have amazed us as we've watched them become their own little people, with their likes and dislikes, separate personalities and abilities. Ella is no longer a baby, but a sweet little girl who likes to hug and be hugged. Kaylin is wise beyond her years and never ceases to amaze us with her intelligence and physical prowess. She loves to dance and is now taking gymnastic lessons (At four! Today's kids seem to be so smart and advanced, they make our childhoods seem so boring and limited!)<br /></div></div><span style="font-size:100%;"></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUssPaZAAOuYTWzjTGoAt4hde5w9aecU2ailrJWK7IYbwpzg9vMKZ6LGZMx0nqhBRBckKUIxELO4C7wBqmZeRMdEPPrDBHRa9D6zVekbl-JQbrTWM-YDzoBH6B38mw4LdlcnbTVVVy60rq/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+011.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 304px; height: 372px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333539950821558786" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUssPaZAAOuYTWzjTGoAt4hde5w9aecU2ailrJWK7IYbwpzg9vMKZ6LGZMx0nqhBRBckKUIxELO4C7wBqmZeRMdEPPrDBHRa9D6zVekbl-JQbrTWM-YDzoBH6B38mw4LdlcnbTVVVy60rq/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+011.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCmNUdKj-wLrgLDdGqqrni3MTkV9OmHcwZlsp94qJqtyVI93fSBnGexLk3dRiN0kSsL7C0MaASKNwT3PDhVnf17-fPpKfgzkVoZ_wAAjgo2mZgMbGIIZ3LHGDbAeQnmOIvkLbrv8W30GN/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+015.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 309px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333619662282329634" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCmNUdKj-wLrgLDdGqqrni3MTkV9OmHcwZlsp94qJqtyVI93fSBnGexLk3dRiN0kSsL7C0MaASKNwT3PDhVnf17-fPpKfgzkVoZ_wAAjgo2mZgMbGIIZ3LHGDbAeQnmOIvkLbrv8W30GN/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+015.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; float: left; height: 255px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333619404685442626" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbycO7MqTwWi71Y0nLaBp5jp4l2h3v1LB9JRqZcUwet5kbZGJqScE60dgMoajBVufSCH4phZGdxKMYyfj8UtaO-Gd2GI7kA4Zca4rYCkHZeNrXAIoXF3_Mo3zaXmtTuj6YqIEHOEfyG5OM/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+012.jpg" border="0" /></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBH4qxQTEA-aOVAM34rT4GTj_GZQsE-od28nq-GFXRISq08prJJGaBJjWfonF6VLhSOhBHEPVzYK_BA7kg1fPKwIGJ3K8AvvPGFlNv7T8ihaGKdVNG_8UuyiXNWR_lDga1yWVlPl4vyCi/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+010.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 283px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333538740778368530" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBH4qxQTEA-aOVAM34rT4GTj_GZQsE-od28nq-GFXRISq08prJJGaBJjWfonF6VLhSOhBHEPVzYK_BA7kg1fPKwIGJ3K8AvvPGFlNv7T8ihaGKdVNG_8UuyiXNWR_lDga1yWVlPl4vyCi/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+010.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqnc7rHrsdZMBLNsRH1DTGrxsauT9ewUFyQHN8YLpJPF8KiQLIKnrwVJL435QpoYbvlvuex3xYIcBJT9foIzxkGynGoRjFKsH6215R9Q5Sf38MhgyZ-yPvXp13vvejjRQ7CuDl2LONB5y/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggqnc7rHrsdZMBLNsRH1DTGrxsauT9ewUFyQHN8YLpJPF8KiQLIKnrwVJL435QpoYbvlvuex3xYIcBJT9foIzxkGynGoRjFKsH6215R9Q5Sf38MhgyZ-yPvXp13vvejjRQ7CuDl2LONB5y/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335567309436478130" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">By the middle of the next week we were on our way past Knoxville in Eastern Tennessee and headed toward Pigeon Forge. We hadn't been able to get a reservation at any of the campgrounds (CGs) because a big car show was going on and Sevierville, Pigeon Forge, and Gatlinburg were packed. As we left I-40 and headed into Sevierville, we were shocked by mile after mile of backed up traffic, all trying to head north out of the area. Still not sure that we would be able to get a campsite since most of the exiting vehicles were not RVs, we drove into the first RV park we saw, the "Rippling Waters" campground. The reception building was just off the highway and the sites were down a short, but steep road into a valley boarded on one side by a fast flowing river and the other by commercial buildings and the highway we had just come off.<br /><br />Not knowing what to expect as we signed up, we were disappointed by what we saw (and heard) once we were directed to our campsite. It might have been a nice site, located right up against the river, but wasn't because of the loud noises of bulldozing going on right on the other side of the river. Our prospective neighbors informed us that the noise had been going on all day, every day, since they had arrived. We asked to be moved to a quieter site, which the management did readily. The problem was that we could still hear the bulldozer and road grader over by the river, and now could also hear the tourist's helicopter tours taking off and landing just across the highway from the campsite.<br /><br />Maureen hated the park (I readily agreed) and strongly suggested that we leave the campsite the next day, but then admitted that she had prepaid for the next 4 days. Groan! At first the management told us that our payment was non-refundable (I had a suspicion that a LOT of people had been checking out early lately), but, after a few minutes, one of the owners came down in his golf cart and told us that it had been a mistake and that we would be given a full refund for the days not used. Yay!<br /><br />Excuse me for not having taken any pictures of Rippling Waters. For obvious reasons we didn't feel we needed photographic reminders of our stay there. We both agree, though that the name of the campground be changed to "Rumbling Bulldozers."<br /><br />We moved to Pigeon Forge the next day, to the Creekside RV Resort on Henderson Springs Road, just outside of town. It was a relief after Rippling Waters. Very friendly people, well managed and maintained CG, with gravel pull-through sites with concrete pads and picnic tables. We spent the next 4 days there, using it to explore Pigeon Forge, Gatlinburg, and make some exploratory drives into the Great Smokey Mountains National Park (GSMNP).<br /><br />While at Creekside, we took in a dinner-show at the Tennessee Shindig playhouse (with buffet dinner at a restaurant next door). A mixture of country western, rock and roll (with a very talented Elvis impersonator), comedy and dance, Tennessee Shindig was a hoot. We strongly recommend it.<br /><br /></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialIDEeD0DmG-e2b8XI09YWHei_IgB93dhyIx6BHciqCog7iGnr7kNACINUZTSGsQk4Nrd5kwIK8Rw5iDe-hB3SulY-M7LOF4BJI5iQQZcSNDVtAHBmWKbxyqKRrBfUa9BFFON5jlQHg8f/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+029.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333636313738580770" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialIDEeD0DmG-e2b8XI09YWHei_IgB93dhyIx6BHciqCog7iGnr7kNACINUZTSGsQk4Nrd5kwIK8Rw5iDe-hB3SulY-M7LOF4BJI5iQQZcSNDVtAHBmWKbxyqKRrBfUa9BFFON5jlQHg8f/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+029.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcIuIIqcTDhWnxP_Nh0B3BWifNOicIGA9JwCzICnENFRw8Rj3d5B9BGOuk3aETNMzUVKaW_EXscZSjCGeK-IFjA5Fs5OIbFqtJcaGeTTiKDVSURf4NJMKIPg4aviK1hk-vk6AfFS35GYd/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+028.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333636864616506530" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXcIuIIqcTDhWnxP_Nh0B3BWifNOicIGA9JwCzICnENFRw8Rj3d5B9BGOuk3aETNMzUVKaW_EXscZSjCGeK-IFjA5Fs5OIbFqtJcaGeTTiKDVSURf4NJMKIPg4aviK1hk-vk6AfFS35GYd/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+028.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We also drove into Gatlinburg, last visited by us some 35 years before and much changed. Its winding main street is surrounded by the tree-covered mountains of the Smokies and reminded us of a European mountain village. Sure, it's a tourist trap, with every kind of tacky store you can imagine, but it also had nice little shops and cafes on winding pedestrian streets off the main drag. Parking was non-existent unless paid for. There were tow-away zone signs everywhere.<br /></div><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 251px; display: block; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335125264744332594" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYB8Ws15SBAJmtWaOPQZtezJ288-R6Go7dFhBOYwVLEbt_Hst1u-0KOE7RE_LE-RsxfplMCvKvCAeuyr4h9xW3EMrORXFaXjsXgKD5HfUOkoDSruCxe00ZRDyNNipK2gXv7BqBtiHGt5Yk/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+031.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Here we see Maureen, spotted as she continued her worldwide tour,<br />doing research for her new large portfolio book,<br />"Restrooms That I Have Visited,"<br />subtitled<br />"Never Pass Up A Chance To Empty Your Bladder,"<br />soon to be published by Vanity Press and available<br />at Barnes & Noble, nationwide.)<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">We drove into the park and visited the Gatlinburg Visitor's Center. We learned that the Smokeys were celebrating their 75th anniversary in 2009, watched a movie about the park, visited the gift shop and bought an obligatory keepsake, a GSMNP mug for me.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hESKALWn_M9Halc33QrOgIhCHrvwdMfhAjAQCSDGnQIluVbEsoaDslpXCfgPBrUBQHYziTQeSx-TxFwTKmvs_VAFyFrYCH3yc0WDYDmCnOWvzSQ7u30asNwWtxXhB_HALEN9bw68rpVn/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+044.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 258px; float: right; height: 185px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333633439102701090" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hESKALWn_M9Halc33QrOgIhCHrvwdMfhAjAQCSDGnQIluVbEsoaDslpXCfgPBrUBQHYziTQeSx-TxFwTKmvs_VAFyFrYCH3yc0WDYDmCnOWvzSQ7u30asNwWtxXhB_HALEN9bw68rpVn/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+044.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p_yKB3kmEJGslkDaXFv6uBjwPbnzvJm5fk5IG4Q_6tFoBRg-uGeSixon55V6fw2P9X0VPAXT0U9OjLUGUP0D36mowcFpxlGaSvzQdo-SImWUzycvEVTcpCxkqPXOv833Ki64wqEkeY7T/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+036.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></span></a></span></p><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe21dzk-r0bRxI__dCTnU4qV8U9p7Ucp7niN8rCQDqCLQbhs9hGSNo-MNgRzxHBGVAubS1k4kzGNtrTMlm68Oxq1S-hC7sujmxJJnPf5pRwqB7tpOldVxAC2nm56PHjukyYzelv1ZAEkjl/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+026.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 208px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333638389159042866" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe21dzk-r0bRxI__dCTnU4qV8U9p7Ucp7niN8rCQDqCLQbhs9hGSNo-MNgRzxHBGVAubS1k4kzGNtrTMlm68Oxq1S-hC7sujmxJJnPf5pRwqB7tpOldVxAC2nm56PHjukyYzelv1ZAEkjl/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+026.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVv71-xTAqFBRvmjE9raP5dicmHD4zqMht2wNyfkwCjnK62vr95czycluAWVNvXIsaQmIN8L658oZtSOeOb60H-pNYXNVaO1BD9Qg4gy6tNC901VdoZhzpv7NxjM0KkToAEhiIx1FrhvM/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+027.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 234px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333637978346675586" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVv71-xTAqFBRvmjE9raP5dicmHD4zqMht2wNyfkwCjnK62vr95czycluAWVNvXIsaQmIN8L658oZtSOeOb60H-pNYXNVaO1BD9Qg4gy6tNC901VdoZhzpv7NxjM0KkToAEhiIx1FrhvM/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+027.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />A day later we took a different route from Pigeon Forge and drove into the middle of the mountains and visited Townsend, TN, a picturesque village at the edge of the park with several nice-looking campgrounds. I also wanted to visit Cherokee and spend some time at the Cherokee museum and the various Native-American attractions, but we were running low on time and wanted to visit Cades Cove, a mountain valley in the park we we had camped all those years ago.<br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p_yKB3kmEJGslkDaXFv6uBjwPbnzvJm5fk5IG4Q_6tFoBRg-uGeSixon55V6fw2P9X0VPAXT0U9OjLUGUP0D36mowcFpxlGaSvzQdo-SImWUzycvEVTcpCxkqPXOv833Ki64wqEkeY7T/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+036.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 286px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333639522497465394" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p_yKB3kmEJGslkDaXFv6uBjwPbnzvJm5fk5IG4Q_6tFoBRg-uGeSixon55V6fw2P9X0VPAXT0U9OjLUGUP0D36mowcFpxlGaSvzQdo-SImWUzycvEVTcpCxkqPXOv833Ki64wqEkeY7T/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+036.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p></div><br /><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcGeC2KUCVIJGSet9lKK5-EcbgjkxBRznJS_6xv5nzghh8YKQmMxtH7RlYkrJ9ADGHBBY4JpQDmBJPtrVSSLh0E7ZDJn9yTe0IEoerdWrGMVlrLD4uRMNTUkuHM8cvJjeb7C-qTn7-h_B/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+050.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333640530680401634" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcGeC2KUCVIJGSet9lKK5-EcbgjkxBRznJS_6xv5nzghh8YKQmMxtH7RlYkrJ9ADGHBBY4JpQDmBJPtrVSSLh0E7ZDJn9yTe0IEoerdWrGMVlrLD4uRMNTUkuHM8cvJjeb7C-qTn7-h_B/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+050.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lG40GWPRZnqSSM4NUWPkfTXTxNM7Hxkuk5bqUduCu18O7LVE6UAyPge0sN8he2xuw8xQHxhCcP-OAsLVTIj_ESMZP-DzB_TdCfxo-9ttIZMmGsASRkz49oBg0XlohFik_l7m3eeLYgOF/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+032.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333639251262600546" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0lG40GWPRZnqSSM4NUWPkfTXTxNM7Hxkuk5bqUduCu18O7LVE6UAyPge0sN8he2xuw8xQHxhCcP-OAsLVTIj_ESMZP-DzB_TdCfxo-9ttIZMmGsASRkz49oBg0XlohFik_l7m3eeLYgOF/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+032.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left">Cades Cove has a 20-mile loop road that is closed to automotive traffic twice a week until 10 AM. Only cyclists and walkers are allowed in during that time. I had wanted to ride our bikes there, but couldn't get myself up early enough for the long drive from Pigeon Forge to the loop road before 10 AM. It was just as well that we didn't try. We drove the loop road, which proved to be very hilly and I doubt that we could have completed the 20-mile loop on bikes. The views from the road were outstanding, with picturesque mountain valleys, restored homes and farms, wildlife, and views of the surrounding mountains always in the background.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02zNFK_UkEQiTNTgmzpvf-EMmKlpro-SrD8PjiVZ8oxecH_p75vo7MKUVa7v2XzClLof0QsISsMVpdzcR0DyiXoYu0TnQTFxbW1BNqHNJ92RXXb0lV3zdGIYdJFVOJLexUUCol_Lg5nCM/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+058.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333642809133109154" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02zNFK_UkEQiTNTgmzpvf-EMmKlpro-SrD8PjiVZ8oxecH_p75vo7MKUVa7v2XzClLof0QsISsMVpdzcR0DyiXoYu0TnQTFxbW1BNqHNJ92RXXb0lV3zdGIYdJFVOJLexUUCol_Lg5nCM/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+058.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><p align="left"><br /><br /></p></span><p align="center"> </p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QrMrZzNg3M_-v5RuW6TA-ADZAMC5ZH2rKLDRO9M_PRoMV2tTTK2LPY5MIlq1UtA43v0yaeAJMA6mIhhEdE89YQFeksbfHNRCUOtxuXcVJoQMaYVpjmSM0pTHdznGmJP1b3oazWt02sUq/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+046.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333640272221139218" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QrMrZzNg3M_-v5RuW6TA-ADZAMC5ZH2rKLDRO9M_PRoMV2tTTK2LPY5MIlq1UtA43v0yaeAJMA6mIhhEdE89YQFeksbfHNRCUOtxuXcVJoQMaYVpjmSM0pTHdznGmJP1b3oazWt02sUq/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+046.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUG9FZ-T4-Qkpp4LzsFVVvGcv7vmZLa-as6wSLNVM7rQCvpN1RxQNfHgov8jj1TJeds9XldZgd6cVxFDVeNG8Ew9eVKUwnDjqQFhdAATF29-mmqow_LsUfQIea3ZTGhLHDRyfpLePrqUw/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+045.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333640000388870370" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGUG9FZ-T4-Qkpp4LzsFVVvGcv7vmZLa-as6wSLNVM7rQCvpN1RxQNfHgov8jj1TJeds9XldZgd6cVxFDVeNG8Ew9eVKUwnDjqQFhdAATF29-mmqow_LsUfQIea3ZTGhLHDRyfpLePrqUw/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+045.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8npNIhwnOFW2X0s2eaGNXzawuZ0nMPxoBpcNOy2SKdoTTbnL5Ly2PtaEYN9JdjiiH2WqL69g_aj-5x7BzE5hyphenhyphenNghcurQUCR4I11NvpqrDi_hZtQ5tfRxnDlps3pq5ToNmSTJGPh5mawg/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+059.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 224px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333641183870137762" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8npNIhwnOFW2X0s2eaGNXzawuZ0nMPxoBpcNOy2SKdoTTbnL5Ly2PtaEYN9JdjiiH2WqL69g_aj-5x7BzE5hyphenhyphenNghcurQUCR4I11NvpqrDi_hZtQ5tfRxnDlps3pq5ToNmSTJGPh5mawg/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+059.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p> <p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5X3BenZnaZw315ASmeBE4GXoE4h01pgu81RZqyJM3QhR9T6e8PTkKPHc8DMZsx9PQrvM28hVhZMsJH4aAz3WTe5Ie96bJlVOAtY1TqmPM88f7fLyz_LQ8iTdA9GbJo5nOwjcLA5LTdmR/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+057.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333643305641904754" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5X3BenZnaZw315ASmeBE4GXoE4h01pgu81RZqyJM3QhR9T6e8PTkKPHc8DMZsx9PQrvM28hVhZMsJH4aAz3WTe5Ie96bJlVOAtY1TqmPM88f7fLyz_LQ8iTdA9GbJo5nOwjcLA5LTdmR/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+057.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">We stopped at one point and took one of the many marked trails into the woods. There was a waterfall 2.5 miles up the trail we chose, which ran along the river that fed the falls. On the way up the trail, we met several riders on horseback coming down the trail and a lot of friendly (and some even worse conditioned than we were) hikers. We made it only about a mile or so up the trail when we admitted that we weren't in shape for the mildly challenging hike and turned back. But, hey, we did try! The road loop ended where it had begun, at Cades Cove campground. I had wanted to camp there, knowing it had no hookups and would have required us to "boondock," which means camping at a campsite or Wal-Mart/Sams/Cracker Barrel Restaurant parking lot without any hookups. Although Maureen was put off by the notion of camping without electrical, water, or sewer hookups, the real deal-breaker was not having any way to heat the RV if the temperatures dropped too low during the night. We have an electric-fired propane furnace, but without an electric hookup, the furnace's fan would quickly drain the RV's battery. I tried to buy a small portable catalytic heater before and during our drive up, but found that there weren't any left on the shelves. After all, I was informed, it was Spring and heaters are a "seasonal" item (I still believe that they shouldn't be in a mountainous region where temperatures were sometimes 20 degrees lower than in the valleys).<br /></p></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOhK8ZqeeUgI3s0fb7QYbr4IYl_Q2XYycR9D0GGj_ZaBOT17Q8-uz1lomZ64EKVIjgGx7_PH92WxHb-RD8vep8jF6GvxJOTUJPlJC6LIahNG7ytlfPLHApQGF5JuS7Emgr1XdN_ZxOT9nG/s1600-h/Cades+Cove+Hike+Apr+2009.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 199px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333641742467138626" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOhK8ZqeeUgI3s0fb7QYbr4IYl_Q2XYycR9D0GGj_ZaBOT17Q8-uz1lomZ64EKVIjgGx7_PH92WxHb-RD8vep8jF6GvxJOTUJPlJC6LIahNG7ytlfPLHApQGF5JuS7Emgr1XdN_ZxOT9nG/s320/Cades+Cove+Hike+Apr+2009.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />While at Cades Cove CG, we spent some time checking out the campsites and the camp store, but didn't see anything that we remembered from our visit in the distant past. And NO, Christopher, we didn't find the sneakers that you, then-a-toddler, had lost one day in the mud while we were there.<br /><br />By Sunday afternoon, April 26th, we were on route 40 heading South through the mountains headed toward Asheville, our next stop. I had done some research about this portion of our trip (actually, about ALL portions of our trip) before leaving home and had gotten advice about the least challenging way to cross the Smokeys on the way to Asheville. I was concerned about whether our 6-cylinder SUV could handle the mountain roads while pulling a loaded trailer that maxed out its towing limit of 3500 lbs. The SUV had been doing fine up until this trip, with its temperature gauge never going above normal and no scary noises coming from its transmission, but that had been while driving in flat-to-moderately-hilly terrain. I was concerned about this first challenging tow through some serious mountains (for the East coast, anyway). But the SUV did fine, only dropping to 45-50 mph during the steepest climbs. Mileage continues to average 11-12 mpg while towing, 24 mpg without. Not too bad considering pickup-towed 5th wheelers average 10-12 mpg and class A motorhomes about 4-5 mpg. We try to stop for the day after going through two tankfuls (2X15 gallons per tank @ 10 mpg, or 150 miles = 300 miles per day).<p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTL2YFKkjKp8sjGfmzT6lJfsaw7IUOouAZ075L7IdKvbbLG-n9MppXuhrm7tCsEM3kKv0yQL2E4C9d8uZsWGQRUxw6qKXiSlveF2UTsi0Q4wJbh3Gij5vMFWGnIRlZJDLJfQ3szyFDHcH/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+078.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333647288538446578" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTL2YFKkjKp8sjGfmzT6lJfsaw7IUOouAZ075L7IdKvbbLG-n9MppXuhrm7tCsEM3kKv0yQL2E4C9d8uZsWGQRUxw6qKXiSlveF2UTsi0Q4wJbh3Gij5vMFWGnIRlZJDLJfQ3szyFDHcH/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+078.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6rdKO_ruPs-4lMmvYhp-sH7bsb21wo4PhSgZr1bQvHy5JsUY5uayyYFKqPUN_Q6lloIusE-wWRqey04PkY8NVlSdUzQPUnlOTVVXZbY6qclsF911HgLgZyTqqj-dlps_jQJaNgZif6Tw/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+076.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333647633174965874" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6rdKO_ruPs-4lMmvYhp-sH7bsb21wo4PhSgZr1bQvHy5JsUY5uayyYFKqPUN_Q6lloIusE-wWRqey04PkY8NVlSdUzQPUnlOTVVXZbY6qclsF911HgLgZyTqqj-dlps_jQJaNgZif6Tw/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+076.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-55jT3rhyphenhyphenpee0XI3kyNKNV88XmBjG0WjWmzhHyTmGj3GzEBqHdROIyZ_A8U_fmzicNO7JfwMyxkKMkXeeQwlmRIO9LHjMT-H8V1YTBUKK5B7-a16Py8kmAwAwm_azmbauF4u03ZXiAtJ/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+079.jpg"><br /><br /></a></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3pqPgRwf7uPmZGO0r8xX0RisVfS2eNhUy00KB3c-B8bjLu0fEKxXw1EAIJEf7x30X-UXq1URjx7wXQv8kK5d_XgpZw32ljj6l6A_fM8MGLQBrZcl60UHPbqR9Scbfa3jkHuynpkf050k/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+079.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 300px; float: right; height: 224px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333646614093512850" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3pqPgRwf7uPmZGO0r8xX0RisVfS2eNhUy00KB3c-B8bjLu0fEKxXw1EAIJEf7x30X-UXq1URjx7wXQv8kK5d_XgpZw32ljj6l6A_fM8MGLQBrZcl60UHPbqR9Scbfa3jkHuynpkf050k/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+079.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV-55jT3rhyphenhyphenpee0XI3kyNKNV88XmBjG0WjWmzhHyTmGj3GzEBqHdROIyZ_A8U_fmzicNO7JfwMyxkKMkXeeQwlmRIO9LHjMT-H8V1YTBUKK5B7-a16Py8kmAwAwm_azmbauF4u03ZXiAtJ/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+079.jpg"><br /><br /></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYnS7XvpFxtde0kFrJ18rG9FxdL082wp4z5t_gL3DqPnmKdeTMO1lCFRk5qpGmqhya_3oYkA8n8hs6wLR2aYLXtQUGu4IndrRusQaeR7dKsWtrCgWpKaye2zhRsvKVH0DjqiOeWSb8G_-/s1600-h/rease-biltmore-estate-420.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333909272206411746" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYnS7XvpFxtde0kFrJ18rG9FxdL082wp4z5t_gL3DqPnmKdeTMO1lCFRk5qpGmqhya_3oYkA8n8hs6wLR2aYLXtQUGu4IndrRusQaeR7dKsWtrCgWpKaye2zhRsvKVH0DjqiOeWSb8G_-/s320/rease-biltmore-estate-420.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span>The reason we were going to visit Asheville was to see the Vanderbilt's famous Biltmore Estate. The largest single-family dwelling in the U.S., with 6,000 acres of surrounding park-like land, designed by Fredrick Law Olmstead, the famous landscape architect who designed New York's Central Park, and some 2 million square feet of living space (!), it was going to be the highpoint of our trip (and the most expensive, at $45 per head admittance). We weren't disappointed. the Biltmore Estate was fantastic.<br /><br />Mile after mile of woods and carefully groomed roadsides, with trees and plants, many in flower, carefully placed so that every turn of the road had some scenic beauty to view. I could only guess how much money it must have taken to build — and maintain — such a vast property. It just couldn't be done today (outside of the Middle East, anyway).<br /><br />Of course, it had all been done during the great age of the so-called "robber barons," before income tax, the SEC and anti-monopoly laws. Thousands of workers could be hired for a pittance to move tons of earth around, creating what would later look like natural ponds, streams, and hillsides.<br /><br />Plants were imported from all over the world to grace the Biltmore grounds. It was said the Olmstead wanted every turn of the road to look like a postcard. He was successful.<br /><br />The mansion (castle?), with more than 2 million square feet of living space, was fantastic. If you've been to Europe and seen some of the great county homes you'll have some idea of the splendor of Biltmore. But only some. In comparison with some of the estates that I've seen, say Blenheim and Inverary castles in England or even Windsor castle, Biltmore equals or exceeds their size and beauty.<br /><br />Comparing it to Versailles in France wouldn't be fair; Versailles is more of a palace than Biltmore; with more gilding and mirrors, more ostentatious decoration than Biltmore. But Biltmore is more of a home than Versailles. It's rooms are huge and decorated with tons of beautifully carved wood and stonework, its glass-roofed central atrium with its tropical plants is beautiful (I'm beginning to run out of superlatives; the place just blew my mind, man.) and on and on...<br /><br />But with all its splendor, Biltmore is more homey; you can picture people living there, entertaining their guests or relaxing with their family on a quiet Sunday morning.<br /><br />I know that the era of great homes like Biltmore is over; one just can't get enough reliable help these days. Just kidding. What you can't get is hundreds of trained servants who are willing to work for pennies and accept their station in life and roles as invisible beings meant to act quickly and expertly on every whim of their lord and lady.<br /><br />We'd love to be one of those servants (for about a day), there in the background, treated like furniture, but present for all the usually hidden drama that goes on in every family and perhaps more so in the lives of the great families. On second thought, we'd like to be one of the Vanderbilts or a member of their extended family that got to live at Biltmore.<br /><br />We learned that some of the surviving family members, related through marriage to the Vanderbilt line, moved out of Biltmore nearly 30 years ago and live modestly in a four bedroom, three bath home in Asheville. "Oh Jeeves, be a good man and bring the minivan around front, won't you? Today is sample day at Costco."<br /><br />If you haven't seen Biltmore, see it. It'll provide you with a picture of what it must have been like to live as one of America's great families.<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We had decided to stay close to Biltmore at an interesting-sounding small campground called "Mama Gerties' Hideaway Campground," in Swannanoa, NC, about 15 minutes from downtown Asheville. It turned out to be a great decision. Mama Gerties' is located along a steep mountain oad, in an equally steep cove running up between the mountains. To my great relief, our trusty SUV chugged its way up to the reception building without a problem. But that's when</div> I noticed what lay beyond the reception building. It<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"> it turned out to be an even a steeper climb up to the terraced campsites, separated by stone walls and some 4-5 feet in increasing elevation for each site.<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5fljesyhvSmZtKcAtXtKPJ08Q-5gnFigxdG4MRyQYCJYNMeGl2IMxYzAFlFxdm-TNcrn63xY7DGJG9aaszmArGL1Pj8yrkaOj6Ii3WqEWpdi94IjZ2Db4DsC6PBJkOsNyzeroFW5cERd/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+080.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 287px; float: right; height: 204px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333644762519210066" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5fljesyhvSmZtKcAtXtKPJ08Q-5gnFigxdG4MRyQYCJYNMeGl2IMxYzAFlFxdm-TNcrn63xY7DGJG9aaszmArGL1Pj8yrkaOj6Ii3WqEWpdi94IjZ2Db4DsC6PBJkOsNyzeroFW5cERd/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+080.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div> </div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XVWE7ZOaaUH06_suw94yk3Nlbay9UpcVhJAf4DzIGYDZCZ6pON7dkvnJH2cp3WGs5RGT2fTtV1ApMwabxk36ESjKYMsVqBxjnxvG6ukQLma0OosJJ2o265ofBVFgyrovVq57E7rVDsO7/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+065.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333913608065902530" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XVWE7ZOaaUH06_suw94yk3Nlbay9UpcVhJAf4DzIGYDZCZ6pON7dkvnJH2cp3WGs5RGT2fTtV1ApMwabxk36ESjKYMsVqBxjnxvG6ukQLma0OosJJ2o265ofBVFgyrovVq57E7rVDsO7/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+065.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZkmsjqnItpPAFaJx-x_OXy_Tmjl6-8xwHnhYOPAkQgrLWZRy0nLeYtvS-gUs7NkE4ouRTwSxRku5mw0foCrRWRNO555Nsop6pcg7ZLIjl9HC89Ra0-FXY9E18NzN0az_pzZkUxg6Z7na/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+069.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333914183235030466" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZkmsjqnItpPAFaJx-x_OXy_Tmjl6-8xwHnhYOPAkQgrLWZRy0nLeYtvS-gUs7NkE4ouRTwSxRku5mw0foCrRWRNO555Nsop6pcg7ZLIjl9HC89Ra0-FXY9E18NzN0az_pzZkUxg6Z7na/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+069.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxttbI9jIMmMMdW3fAP30QqJFVd-W8yBiqC7ayW8ECjv1dXDft6LdoNmNqXbo2C3SOc2rxj0rLtsWAwZfMmUhq9mv0p_kGj67HiYmPBmZZa1sg9G3TkdAMl5vOtPy-cE3WyF_mJvEfLkoW/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+074.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 303px; float: right; height: 225px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333645035981223938" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxttbI9jIMmMMdW3fAP30QqJFVd-W8yBiqC7ayW8ECjv1dXDft6LdoNmNqXbo2C3SOc2rxj0rLtsWAwZfMmUhq9mv0p_kGj67HiYmPBmZZa1sg9G3TkdAMl5vOtPy-cE3WyF_mJvEfLkoW/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+074.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></div> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />After registering, I dropped the SUV into its lowest gear and drove slowly up to our pull-through site. All the while, I waited for a bang or other noise informing me that the transmission had just given up the ghost, but our trusty Mazda made its way up without a problem (I blame my neurosis on all the negative feedback I got on the RVNet.com website from more experienced towers who told me that my 6-cyl. Mazda could never pull a 3500 lb. load without damaging itself).<br /><br />The campground was beautiful, as you can see from our photos. We met some very nice people, including one traveler staying at the campground with a group of people that brought some leftover steak up the road for Rocky and introduced himself as Charles the mystic, a former Methodist minister, and current Russian Orthodox lay person. He informed me that he had always received premonitions and "messages." I kept expecting him to stop talking, put his hand to his head and announce, "Wait! I'm getting a message!"<br /><br />The funny thing was that, in discussing what may have brought us together that afternoon, we discovered several parallels between our lives. Such as he was raised in Rockville Center, Long Island; a town next door to Baldwin, LI, where I grew up. We discussed 9/11 and I mentioned Maureen's godchild, who worked for Kanter-Fitzgerald and died that day in the attack. He paused and told me that he knew someone who worked for that company and said he was getting a feeling (a message from the beyond?).<br /><br />Well, he didn't get a message about Maureen's godchild, but did get me to give him my phone number in case something popped into his consciousness (you should hum some spooky music here) that he might want to share with me. As we parted, he turned and seriously thanked me for not treating him "like a nut," something he probably experiences from time to time. <p align="left"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span></p><p style="text-align: center;">(Below the author can be seen relaxing in our trailer's living room-kitchen-bedroom-den, watching our huge, wall-mounted LCD TV.)</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_HtZ2FTfbidaf51RqFieF6PeQweGHUhW4i_ZmelPNKyNd2Uo7gx2_qo4T8YU9GHdB5DP3Zx-l7qIw_xHqRkHfwZOfw5OEZZQyUkP0vZU7h-bVu9sw-hr-gSvxpenfukMelh5cAoLvkIM/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+064.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333645998745265250" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_HtZ2FTfbidaf51RqFieF6PeQweGHUhW4i_ZmelPNKyNd2Uo7gx2_qo4T8YU9GHdB5DP3Zx-l7qIw_xHqRkHfwZOfw5OEZZQyUkP0vZU7h-bVu9sw-hr-gSvxpenfukMelh5cAoLvkIM/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+064.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We're definitely going back to Mama Gerties', maybe this fall for the foliage change and our 44th wedding anniversary.<br /><br />Asheville proved to be a small, hilly city with a definite artsy-fartsy feeling. UNC at Asheville is located there and has a beautiful, wooded campus. Many of its students where wandering around the city and were of the long hair, baggy clothes variety. Many carried either a musical instrument or a portfolio. We guessed that the college specialized in the Arts.<br /><br />The city's small centrally located park had a sizable group of what looked like possible drug users, all carefully watched by what appeared to be a full-time resident police officer. We toured one of the many galleries and Maureen bought a pretty bracelet.<br /><br />Rocky accompanied us everywhere and drew a lot of attention. It seems that Australian Terriers are not well known in that part of the country.<br /><br />After a nice lunch at an organic cafe, we spotted an elderly man and woman about to cross the street. They had the most outlandish attire that I've ever seen outside of a 60s music concert. Both had wild gray hair and were dressed in what I can only describe as psychedelic: red, orange, green, blue, pink — you name it — they were dressed from head to toe in what looked like crazy quilt fabric. As a joke, I walked up to them and said, "Now you two people look like you can tell me where Asheville's Young Republican's meet." We laughed together over my obvious genius for humor. The man mentioned how he'd been pulling his hair out for the past 8 years (over what I have no idea [wink! wink!]).<br /><br />[Actually, Maureen has been losing her patience with me lately for being so willing to strike up a conversation with complete strangers, something I used to avoid. I'm not sure what is happening, but I do know that, at 64, I have no patience with pretense or hypocrisy anymore and enjoy talking with people.]<br /><br />While Maureen shopped at the local Wal-Mart, located several miles out of the city on the way back to Mama Gerties, Rocky and I waited outside.<br /><br />Once again proving that I seem to attract (or is it seek out?) unusual specimens of humankind, a hippy-looking older man started up a conversation with me. Following my belief that you never know whether the next person you meet might be an angel, I told him a little bit about myself. As he packed a newly purchased (Chinese, of course; he bought it at Wal-Mart) backpack (the old one had fallen apart), he told me all about the real reason the FBI attacked the Davidian Waco compound, what really happened that day, how he has learned the truth about the world from shortwave radio, and numerous other conspiracy theories. As he climbed on his small motorcycle/scooter and shouldered his backpack, he told me that he was working with Asheville's homeless and that maybe he'd see me around the "square." I assumed that he meant the park Maureen and I had seen and didn't think that our meeting there was very likely, but I wished him a good life and off he rode. It had been an interesting, if somewhat strange conversation.<br /><br />We checked out of Mama Gerties Thursday morning and set off for home, expecting one last stopover for the night. Looking for a half-priced campground in our Camp Club USA or Passport America guides, we decided to try the Jolly Acres Camping and RV Park in St. George, SC.<br /><br />Once again foolishly putting our lives in our GPS, Helga's, hands, we followed her directions to the campground. All went well until, several miles from the nearest highway, she told us to turn onto a dirt road. Mile after mile went by with the road becoming more and more dusty and rutted. As it narrowed down to a single, narrow lane, Maureen began berating me for following Helga's questionable advice and demanded that I turn around and go back the way we came.<br /><br />Once again, I reminded her that you can't do a u-turn on a narrow dirt road with a travel trailer. At that moment, we came to four of the worst ruts in the road that I have ever seen. The rig dropped and then bounced up into the air, four times — hard. Maureen began questioning my sanity and family history. I informed her that she was wrong; I knew who my father was and that we'd just have to keep plodding along. After all, Helga said our destination was just down the road a bit...<br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><img style="width: 320px; height: 270px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333653937053410658" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguq5rf2S420066vIgFBpGeimIN4C8xfa73B58wNatuvYdcNLM74ZrRe4cKI3GzLQqxCfjG2LxGx6uVkFMA3ajErDrytTBwDhzcQGyLK8qm7EPPOn5ta9_ff8Vgyik6RZFytyYoK65zTBL3/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+051.jpg" border="0" /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpRyRurIll4MhwZs8R8qZy-xa9iBhSWl_Z7MXXU7_GhHfHkOOdWUcmeDg-10E1LKRA4bIZGfi6xaqXg-hgYfe-Xd1etcaOL8GwHfzGlGxdfddpJMMWl0XeidZcY-kdzO6o4J8s24QPj-P/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+047.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333654445646752562" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqpRyRurIll4MhwZs8R8qZy-xa9iBhSWl_Z7MXXU7_GhHfHkOOdWUcmeDg-10E1LKRA4bIZGfi6xaqXg-hgYfe-Xd1etcaOL8GwHfzGlGxdfddpJMMWl0XeidZcY-kdzO6o4J8s24QPj-P/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+047.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWAfActLS9f5kgtyySlH9RC4InMyzqBdGPhzOUEAgG6WPLxc710IGx59lfKz65tx3iLKVYZCO0fqG3EIii6zKSIvTyiDTyydlQktiXaZP2RkQe9GAsBzIjT8Iydmlu_ae7J57WDkU1L96/s1600-h/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+030.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="width: 320px; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333655045392376066" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWAfActLS9f5kgtyySlH9RC4InMyzqBdGPhzOUEAgG6WPLxc710IGx59lfKz65tx3iLKVYZCO0fqG3EIii6zKSIvTyiDTyydlQktiXaZP2RkQe9GAsBzIjT8Iydmlu_ae7J57WDkU1L96/s320/Easter+2009+RV+Trip+030.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Well, just about when our marriage was about to end, we finally came to a paved road. Yay! Divorce postponed! A mile or so down that paved road, we came to "Jolly Acres."<br /><br />A nice, neat CG, Jolly Acres had a handful of snowbirds and other long-term campers. There wasn't much shade (or much doing), though, with most of the sites on what was probably former pasture land. There was a lot of room and yet the sites were very close to one another, as if they planned to be a much larger CG some day with many more sites.<br /><br />After pulling in, we found that our neighbors on either side, two big 5th wheelers, were empty and the only company we had was right behind us, a dozen or so beef cattle and their calves in a picturesque field. It might have been lucky that neither neighbor was in, because our awning side neighbor had parked the reverse of us and had his table about 6 feet from ours. It wasn't his proximity that troubled me though, it was the spittoon sitting next to his folding chair...<br /></div></div><br />We did learn from the owner, after telling her about the horrible dirt road leading to her park, that the REAL route was just outside the CG to the right; not the left. A fully paved road would take us back to I-95 in minutes with no problems. Arghh!<br /><br />A resident who had overheard my story asked if I had seen any "carcasses" while navigating the dirt road (I hadn't, thankfully). He went on to explain that the locals dump dead farm animals/roadkill along the road. Yecch! The owner seemed to think that our experience was funny and admitted that other campers, including one huge 40 foot class A, had experienced the same problem when their GPS's had led them astray. Very funny...<br /><br />The following morning, we left Jolly Acres (jolly about all the dumb SOB's that had driven on the local Ho Chi Minh trail, I guessed) and started out on the last portion of our road home.<br /><br />After the previous day's excitement, we decided to keep going all the way home and not stop for another night. After 7 hours or so, we finally got home in the dark and I backed our RV up into our driveway very badly. By that point I just didn't care. I left everything hitched up and went into the house, where I fell back into my La-Z-Boy with a great sigh of relief. Home at last — Yay!<br /><br />The next day, I began planning our next trip...<p align="left"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span></p>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-8274260481410031002009-01-20T18:33:00.006-05:002009-05-14T21:10:48.077-04:00Mods<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyo_-ac3CyN-s5B-gPG2K_K0zDPvWVzmr2hUjt4py76DCsEHEVxO4vTNGMeWBFoP3uo9XjXmZ_ec4IV88ApAUq7-v7jfj6DE1zeMIKMpmO7THUM2XzeYCKRiMfKI8cIwpuH7K19Bis678h/s1600-h/189FBR+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333267055265863298" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyo_-ac3CyN-s5B-gPG2K_K0zDPvWVzmr2hUjt4py76DCsEHEVxO4vTNGMeWBFoP3uo9XjXmZ_ec4IV88ApAUq7-v7jfj6DE1zeMIKMpmO7THUM2XzeYCKRiMfKI8cIwpuH7K19Bis678h/s320/189FBR+006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsPg71OmXv7CFM9oj7q2602cZ8RySAawVmnGDqEfoCAI6QqtGrKJ4VK4njxRfgjG05wZFaVvl1QahdRMRxUOpMO_0-MHNtgcDDnPCiEEgf99TMhNdfKfhDkA-eOyokLKq6O6LIHX6xbqK/s1600-h/189FBR+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333266651663896850" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsPg71OmXv7CFM9oj7q2602cZ8RySAawVmnGDqEfoCAI6QqtGrKJ4VK4njxRfgjG05wZFaVvl1QahdRMRxUOpMO_0-MHNtgcDDnPCiEEgf99TMhNdfKfhDkA-eOyokLKq6O6LIHX6xbqK/s320/189FBR+005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab4S9wcWLR2UDHMzEG7F-egG9rwMJMrXLWnZIyx9KI9Xj8f7HKLisnhm-ZD6n8uR2WxOPkE7WC7RLoNBmI_UHWnNXpxA3FK6bIJz40MT4ICXEtfPhhalewmOn_624WRn-AS46Kqt1FdVu/s1600-h/IMG_2100.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333230387159452034" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab4S9wcWLR2UDHMzEG7F-egG9rwMJMrXLWnZIyx9KI9Xj8f7HKLisnhm-ZD6n8uR2WxOPkE7WC7RLoNBmI_UHWnNXpxA3FK6bIJz40MT4ICXEtfPhhalewmOn_624WRn-AS46Kqt1FdVu/s320/IMG_2100.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div>After a few trips, it became clear (to me) that our floorplan wasn't optimal for our use. The pictures to the right, from another Fun Finder 189 with the "endless red" color plan, illustrate the standard setup. Although I was accused of wanting to "tear our new trailer apart," my goal was more constructive. The floorplan for the 189FBR included a dinette with benches facing each other across a foldable table that can be dropped into a lower position to create a 30" wide bed. When set up as a dinette, very little space was left between the edge of the table and the front of the kitchen sink. It was a squeeze for the two of us to pass by.<br /></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div>The other problem with the factory setup is that there is nowhere to relax and watch the TV that is mounted above the front end closet. You have to either lie on the bed or sit upright at the rear dinette bench. I got an idea after seeing some other floorplans on the web. Some trailers, like the 189WBS, which has a slideout, have a couch where the dinette is.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4fN3rzjvPqJf8tpCNWAhK219F6ZryrSh1xCQqFmzGvhAgJ-UtZOJpq9UVMF9yyDVcKPLX0hrugYaLGm-g3x3BQumNiIBcZBUaxiPM3tR6SQJ6-MXVmooU148R5E8spNIIJwXu7grGeGi/s1600-h/IMG_2113.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333226546733974914" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4fN3rzjvPqJf8tpCNWAhK219F6ZryrSh1xCQqFmzGvhAgJ-UtZOJpq9UVMF9yyDVcKPLX0hrugYaLGm-g3x3BQumNiIBcZBUaxiPM3tR6SQJ6-MXVmooU148R5E8spNIIJwXu7grGeGi/s320/IMG_2113.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I began planning by taking the cushions and removable seat boards off the dinette. I noticed that everything was screwed to the floor and walls; easily disassembled. I realized that I could place both dinette benches side-by-side against the wall under the dinette window. With a few minor modifications, I could convert what was there into a couch and greatly increase the "hallway" between the kitchen and the new couch. The only problem was that we would lose our table.<br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div>I found a solution on the internet. At a marine supply site I found a small plastic table top with a molded cup holders and a bottom fitting for a stainless steel column leg. By carefully placing two of these side by side in<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5rVbylmMAKUieBNDN3e8uI04e0DYHm-wqjkNfmlZWuSqyqF86yV5XTIdV8SR45SiDvk8xlaIJZmBGWDy31ASKrxzIetGEZKyWTL4mS6lOSP8fpqQ11zpn_CowTRXAm3kIL83xs3CxTTo/s1600-h/IMG_2118.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333228208934409442" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5rVbylmMAKUieBNDN3e8uI04e0DYHm-wqjkNfmlZWuSqyqF86yV5XTIdV8SR45SiDvk8xlaIJZmBGWDy31ASKrxzIetGEZKyWTL4mS6lOSP8fpqQ11zpn_CowTRXAm3kIL83xs3CxTTo/s320/IMG_2118.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>front of the new couch, we could have one, two, or no tables by simply mounting or removing the tables from their metal posts. They could also be rotated as needed. It seemed like a great solution.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-zOPkxJAfO8EtAnvWap4wnlvlgEqeqZy0AYBVX03748CPfgWjQGDxslKDF5_fljgaUVph4Bd-oxbOMsAlb8JibiXK0EhhjieIi1wXhoVPrk_t3PMxL0QcoUvhYmTu8mIrMRnnskmAmCl/s1600-h/IMG_2115.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-zOPkxJAfO8EtAnvWap4wnlvlgEqeqZy0AYBVX03748CPfgWjQGDxslKDF5_fljgaUVph4Bd-oxbOMsAlb8JibiXK0EhhjieIi1wXhoVPrk_t3PMxL0QcoUvhYmTu8mIrMRnnskmAmCl/s1600-h/IMG_2115.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div>It also provided a solution to another problem. Because of a cervical spinal cord injury, I am forced to sleep in a La-Z-Boy recliner while at home and in a cushioned portable recliner while traveling. The chair that I usually travel with did not fit well in the old "hallway." In addition, any late night trips to the toilet by my wife would require climbing over me or the dinette table.<br /></div><div></div><div>Well, the conversion is done now and we are getting used to our new floorplan. It isn't perfect, but there isn't much more we can do with the limited space offered by the trailer. But it is much easier to relax in the evening while reading, surfing the web, or watching TV. Sleeping is still a challenge; even with the new, wider hallway, Maureen still has to climb over/squeeze by me during the night, usually waking me in the process. I'll keep noodling a better answer, but, for now, we'll get by. </div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBqastXuc7q6moPBbpPGPk-aiVxHURtqfK_ONvmqHm9rrVQm1eztErJYuFOZxt3PYI-U0H2N6gqAlV0ndHmYc_T-jIpojFqVbhpBKhnDJAwZNxnW7TBi1er2rwPQswmYKtzj2UqhgksSM/s1600-h/IMG_2131.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333229134884999938" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBqastXuc7q6moPBbpPGPk-aiVxHURtqfK_ONvmqHm9rrVQm1eztErJYuFOZxt3PYI-U0H2N6gqAlV0ndHmYc_T-jIpojFqVbhpBKhnDJAwZNxnW7TBi1er2rwPQswmYKtzj2UqhgksSM/s320/IMG_2131.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63iB4IT1kiwkbRQTFJ995wTA1iZbeUjCj0-o6fU-IbtDnKpAxx6nH67vQoylkfLLVIlojkN6AkF-lgptjGTA0EC3yQ27_sBkEWr0idFp8kQij6_ZZSs_rjc9AgSABjV4xD0vh0GvfNYkC/s1600-h/IMG_2135.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px; float: right; height: 320px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333232145350316402" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63iB4IT1kiwkbRQTFJ995wTA1iZbeUjCj0-o6fU-IbtDnKpAxx6nH67vQoylkfLLVIlojkN6AkF-lgptjGTA0EC3yQ27_sBkEWr0idFp8kQij6_ZZSs_rjc9AgSABjV4xD0vh0GvfNYkC/s320/IMG_2135.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63iB4IT1kiwkbRQTFJ995wTA1iZbeUjCj0-o6fU-IbtDnKpAxx6nH67vQoylkfLLVIlojkN6AkF-lgptjGTA0EC3yQ27_sBkEWr0idFp8kQij6_ZZSs_rjc9AgSABjV4xD0vh0GvfNYkC/s1600-h/IMG_2135.JPG"></a></div><div><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJBqastXuc7q6moPBbpPGPk-aiVxHURtqfK_ONvmqHm9rrVQm1eztErJYuFOZxt3PYI-U0H2N6gqAlV0ndHmYc_T-jIpojFqVbhpBKhnDJAwZNxnW7TBi1er2rwPQswmYKtzj2UqhgksSM/s1600-h/IMG_2131.JPG"></a>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-85235118114754503372009-01-03T15:09:00.005-05:002009-05-14T14:30:57.541-04:00Our Beach Cabana<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3uMDpqUKh26etSie6W_dALBwThNes1UWfLaLc3qSuv2hDLC0Lza46lNK6Ne75Ry3PBhM-2dSO7QYTlpKl91hwBFP8lnDp8tRR7Vcu9C1MkWkBHyn9gOkKgX_H4i9Ip_KFJJ67kzI4O5b/s1600-h/Honeymoon+Island_Mom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 194px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333162404467555138" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3uMDpqUKh26etSie6W_dALBwThNes1UWfLaLc3qSuv2hDLC0Lza46lNK6Ne75Ry3PBhM-2dSO7QYTlpKl91hwBFP8lnDp8tRR7Vcu9C1MkWkBHyn9gOkKgX_H4i9Ip_KFJJ67kzI4O5b/s320/Honeymoon+Island_Mom.jpg" border="0" /></a>Looking for new ways to use our new trailer, we decided to visit a nearby RV resort that was close to the Gulf beaches. We took the trailer to <a href="http://funandsun.com/parks/HoneymoonIsland/honeymoonisland.html">Honeymoon Island State Park</a>, less than 20 miles from home, where we set it up on the edge of one of the several beach parking lots. After setting up the awning and putting out the folding tables and chairs, we sat down to enjoy our beachside "cabana."<br /><br />All went well until the park ranger arrived and informed us that we had to move our RV back into the parking area. What a party pooper! Even though we had to give up our beachside spot, we had a nice day at the beach. We had packed the fridge with food and ate our luch, right there in the parking lot.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaL-NWJGw1KwMAkoh-P0KlSMR97GSaH-q6TcdrRxV3nFL5ctFeloDiF6OTJG1OSc-1Xy06t2Yx4mM4shdbMO6ERqgOEBZkzSPU95NPo4I5E_xGKkqwrLOhppqqPanZh7pZDweBY14UBBl/s1600-h/Blue+Moon+RV+Park+-+Mom+%26+Rocky.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 185px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333164710679039042" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaL-NWJGw1KwMAkoh-P0KlSMR97GSaH-q6TcdrRxV3nFL5ctFeloDiF6OTJG1OSc-1Xy06t2Yx4mM4shdbMO6ERqgOEBZkzSPU95NPo4I5E_xGKkqwrLOhppqqPanZh7pZDweBY14UBBl/s320/Blue+Moon+RV+Park+-+Mom+%26+Rocky.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Later in the afternoon we moved the RV to the <a href="http://www.thebluemooninn.com/blue-moon-inn-dunedin-fl-rv-park.html">Blue Moon Inn RV Resort <span>in Dunedin</span></a>, just outside of Honeymoon Island. It was average as things go, but well-kept. It had many full-time and seasonal residents. We spent the night and then returned to the <a href="http://www.delightfuldunedin.com/">Honeymoon Island island causeway </a>the next day. Instead of continuing out onto the island, we parked on the sand along the causeway, which was pretty nice. We parked next to a catamaran and sailboard rental place and a snack trailer, which we visited for hot dogs and fries.<br /><br />All in all, it was a nice way to spend a weekend. As we were learning, any day is a better day when spent in our RV.George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-27347830639097729072008-10-31T15:55:00.004-04:002009-05-09T22:57:16.882-04:00Sun 'N Fun<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexE5usGuYvWkRKBZVRuwUTd0qWF0rAx_NLsChkfFJTH2p05NCTNm0bd8L3Ovgr5teGsgZ3aUVCGjo-2sZQV5QNiku4Gd-SyIsXUtQiM8PET5OAVJf3Gr_fKjYbvS6eJt2i5JywPtyCmoS/s1600-h/IMG_1990.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333176004887430082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexE5usGuYvWkRKBZVRuwUTd0qWF0rAx_NLsChkfFJTH2p05NCTNm0bd8L3Ovgr5teGsgZ3aUVCGjo-2sZQV5QNiku4Gd-SyIsXUtQiM8PET5OAVJf3Gr_fKjYbvS6eJt2i5JywPtyCmoS/s320/IMG_1990.JPG" /></a> After reading that the <a href="http://www.ringling.org/">Ringling Museum in Sarasota, FL</a> was having an exhibit on loan from the Brooklyn Museum of Egyptian art, we decided to take the RV down there for a few days. The RV resort we selected was <a href="http://www.sunnfunfl.com/">Sun 'N Fun</a>, in Sarasota and just off I-75. The resort was a real treat. Immaculate and well-designed, it offered a busy schedule of hobbies, all held in several buildings dedicated to a particular craft, ie. wood shop, pottery, etc. It has a large heated pool and two over-sized spas, all surrounded with lavish tropical gardens. We'll definitely be returning.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.ringling.org/uploadedImages/What_to_See/Curatorial/CaEastFacade.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.ringling.org/uploadedImages/What_to_See/Curatorial/CaEastFacade.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 318px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.ringling.org/uploadedImages/What_to_See/Curatorial/CaEastFacade.jpg" /></a>The Ringling Museum is on the grounds of the <a href="http://www.ringling.org/CadMansion.aspx">Cã d'Zan mansion</a>, shown here. The tour of the mansion was worth the trip. To see the beautiful rooms and to picture the Ringlings and their family and friends living or partying there gave us a memorable picture of the wealthy lives led by these famous Americans.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.ringling.org/uploadedImages/What_to_See/Curatorial/CadazanCourt.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 292px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.ringling.org/uploadedImages/What_to_See/Curatorial/CadazanCourt.jpg" /></a>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-6530063436530004552008-09-11T14:20:00.003-04:002009-05-09T23:07:07.168-04:00Our Inaugural RV Trip<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzlrFPfZNBAhGJLiWxC74TAJzvnAFyvqWdnr5QUMBPrQcp7ztjka2_3VO_noO_sFFm9Uwdr8SRUwIw3lGIk2u3nI1e-O8TBPlG7scFQcAGn4N7Ue5h0mCqgiIFyLWRKb62H_rKYET_MBX/s1600-h/IMG_1982.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333153227388814498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzlrFPfZNBAhGJLiWxC74TAJzvnAFyvqWdnr5QUMBPrQcp7ztjka2_3VO_noO_sFFm9Uwdr8SRUwIw3lGIk2u3nI1e-O8TBPlG7scFQcAGn4N7Ue5h0mCqgiIFyLWRKb62H_rKYET_MBX/s320/IMG_1982.JPG" /></a> Our inaugural, or shakedown, trip with our new RV was to visit our son, Matthew, and his family in Tennessee. Matt lives in a beautiful neighborhood in <span><a href="http://www.franklin-gov.com/visitors.html">Franklin, Tennessee</a></span>, just south of Nashville. An Account manager for CISCO, Matt has responsibility for much of the state. He and his wife Tracy have two adorable daughters, Kaylin and Ella, and a big, old Foxhound named Roscoe.<br /><br />We decided to make the 1400+ mile roundtrip journey with two stopovers in each direction. The most memorable was the second stop on the way up at the <a href="http://www.lakelanierislands.com/">Lake Lanier Resort </a>east of Atlanta.<br /><br />Lake Lanier showed the results of long-term drought in the area. Much of its beautiful original shoreline now lay many yards inland from the lowered water front. The campsites were very nice, with electricity and water at the near-to-the-water sites, which we selected, and a dump site up near the stables. Lanier is a full resort with, in addition to its campsites, a beautiful hotel, condos, golf courses, marina, water park, and other amenities, all making it a great spot to vacation. The landscaped grounds were immaculate, although there is ongoing construction making way for new features. One of these, we were sorry to learn, was the redesign of the existing campground area to become room for more condos. The campground will be relocated elsewhere on the vast property. It's too bad; the campsite views of the lake were beautiful.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-rJIUtBJb34pIzr89srWxV9q-oPtdDYUzLfGuJC0eatWDkzRJaQfoz2wNhxKQbUu9bFtYQW51nSPQVGRHhVV-VAhMW8Rb9wCzBRrOUeeCikUxPk5m4mGNB_pnlztTKz8elWG3VO6tho_/s1600-h/IMG_1988.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 336px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 222px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333156910053289842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-rJIUtBJb34pIzr89srWxV9q-oPtdDYUzLfGuJC0eatWDkzRJaQfoz2wNhxKQbUu9bFtYQW51nSPQVGRHhVV-VAhMW8Rb9wCzBRrOUeeCikUxPk5m4mGNB_pnlztTKz8elWG3VO6tho_/s320/IMG_1988.JPG" /></a> On the way home we were reminded that RV'ng includes all levels of our society. We stopped overnight in an RV resort in northern Florida. It included "owned" sites as well as rentals. One of the private sites had a 40-foot bus-conversion motorhome on it. The day we arrived, its owner was sitting proudly on his pad, which was surrounded by a dozen or more potted hedge plants and was equipped with outside furniture like you'd find on the deck or poolside of a fine home. The owner sat there with a glass of wine as the commoners (us) drove by with our little trailer in tow. What topped it off for me was the guy's toad (a vehicle that is towed behind the motorhome). It was an Aston-Martin sports car. Some people just have too much money...George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-440584495877088381.post-21045409318803929442008-08-30T18:58:00.008-04:002009-05-12T23:52:38.755-04:00Need To Find Some Fun? Buy A Fun Finder!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXXwelpsVGGMe-hpZDQXV5mT4o4AS_WvDPmkdCRrqFk6Ba7VwxamdqnOvgMT4Fq-8vZ47u5tmZs5dkLuMA2aw4SxgxwLMaN4kB8LwIDJEjmLFJB-7OLH5lTt3dR8ZaJ_N51FITeSCDAph/s1600-h/IMG_2002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: both" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUXXwelpsVGGMe-hpZDQXV5mT4o4AS_WvDPmkdCRrqFk6Ba7VwxamdqnOvgMT4Fq-8vZ47u5tmZs5dkLuMA2aw4SxgxwLMaN4kB8LwIDJEjmLFJB-7OLH5lTt3dR8ZaJ_N51FITeSCDAph/s320/IMG_2002.JPG" /></a> August 2008 - Well, we've always dreamt about owning our own RV. Beginning in the late 60s, we tent camped with our young children. In 1970, we bought a new VW Bus and then modified it by adding a jalousie window, roof vent, and do-it-yourself plywood storage/beds. We camped in that bus from Maine to Tennessee.<br /><br />But, as the kids grew in number and size, we needed more room. So we began renting RVs. During the eighties, we rented a Class C which we used to tour the mid-atlantic states and a big Class A to tour 1,000 miles of California coastline and the Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks.<br /><br />But, all the while, we kept dreaming of someday owning our own RV. Renting was just not the same as owning. Well, "stuff" happened and that dream kept being postponed — for nearly 44 years. I could use the excuse my father always relied on when questioned about why he put off buying something: "I'm just waiting for them to be perfected. THEN I'll buy one." Well, I won't argue about whether RVs have finally been perfected, but the wait has been long enough — we've finally bought an RV: a "<a href="http://www.cruiserrv.com/funfinderX/index.html">2008 Cruiser RV Fun Finder X 189FBR</a>." <div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left">A little under 19 feet, it's a small package that's easy to tow and loaded with great options and an impressive list of standard items, including dual axles, a full dry bathroom, queen bed, double-door fridge, twin-20 lb. propane tanks, a convection-microwave oven, AC, propane furnace, and the LCD High Definition TV we added later. Best of all, we were able to get it for a great price, since RV sales in general were — and remain, at this date — miserable and RV dealers' lots were overflowing with 2008 and 2009 models, priced way below their normal levels.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The 189FBR is also one of the few so-called light-weight trailers that met our most important criterion: It is light enough to tow with our existing <a href="http://www.mazdausa.com/MusaWeb/displayPage.action?pageParameter=modelsMain&vehicleCode=TRB&providertag=MazdaSEM&servicetag=T1TRB0312012&sem=1&s_kwcid=TC6458mazda%20tributeSb2800429423&bhcp=1">Mazda V6 Tribute SUV</a>.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">So come along and follow our adventures — we'll try to keep them interesting and fun...<a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" border="0" alt="Posted by Picasa" align="middle" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" /></a></div>George and Maureen Schaeferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10966050847068508769noreply@blogger.com1