The Adventure Continues…
Pray. Eat. Wait. What? More Waiting?
I’ve spent a lifetime praying for the opportunity to roam the back roads and highways. To travel. To explore. To write. That was the motto I acquired when I was in my twenties and beginning to accept that I was a halfway decent storyteller via written words.
My mother and I drove the hundred-plus miles on Friday to pick up my new home from the RV dealership. It feels good to say that, by the way. My home.
The first half of the orientation was on the camper elements. It was done in haste, and, as they told me I would, I forgot important parts of the information regarding the plumbing. Yes, I have manuals… but I am a hands-on learner. I learn best if you show me, then have me do the same thing over. Once I do it, I got it. Alas, I have the manuals to read.
The second half of my orientation was completed by another man that showed me the hook-up process and unhooking the truck from the camper. He took his time and asked me lots of helpful questions. There was no hesitation in my voice when he asked if I would like to test drive the new breaking system. His patience and demeanor provided me more than insight on how it all works; he gave me the confidence I need for towing. We drove a four mile block. He offered me a few trips and lots of “you’re doing great” comments. I felt a huge sense of relief and gratitude towards the young man who hooked up the ginormous hitch kit and brake controller when I pulled out of the dealership parking lot and onto the busy highway.
I’ve always been the passenger or the “director” when it comes to backing up a trailer of any sort. My fear of fucking up arrived at my mother’s home an hour before we physically did. Oh my… I was a nervous wreck!
At this point in time I refuse to admit how many attempts it took me to “park” the camper (hint: it was less than a dozen, more than four). Unhooking the truck was kinda sorta easy. I will have to remember to maintain my upper body strength, though.
My mother was thrilled to have me parked in her yard. She cooked up beef stroganoff and baked lasagna on the first day!
A hot breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage and an English muffin was nice each morning. I ate enough that her pack of shelties barely got a taste of the leftovers in their food bowls.
As I continue to prep my new kitchen, I can see my eating habits will have to be adjusted a bit. I’ve never used a convection oven before, and can see that I will have to cut recipes in thirds and/or in half to fit the cooking space. I’m okay with that. I have a small freezer for the leftovers and only a few storage containers.
The ironic thing is, I have hunted for the box I set aside during the moving process with my kitchen towels, favorite paring knife, measuring spoons and cups, and all the other kitchen essentials I kept separate for my adventure. While I was in the shower two days ago, I heard my father’s voice ask, “Do you really want to tote the past with you? It’s time for new, Cindy.” Augh, this adventure is getting to be a budget buster!
Monday evening I moved my home and am parked in my son’s yard. I roamed their refrigerator Tuesday while they were at work. What? No leftover prime rib? No barbecued chicken kabobs in storage containers? Guess I will settle for a bologna ‘n cheese sandwich and apple for lunch. His wife did send me a text asking if spaghetti sounded good for dinner. Well, yeah! Duh!
My initial plan was to be on the road by mid-September and even offered up the threat to the Universe that I’d walk to the state line if I had to at the end of the month just to get on the road. I’m a patient person… typically. But with this travel bug biting my ass, patience has left me standing and waiting… and waiting… and waiting some more. Blahhhh!
First I had to wait for my updated drivers license to arrive in the mail. Then, as you already know from the previous posts, it took me a while to find a travel trailer. I finally secured that, and had to wait a week to pick it up.
Panic set in ’cause I was having one hell of a time finding a vehicle within budget and in decent condition. Scrolling through a local car dealer’s website for the umpteenth time, WA-LA! there it was – my truck. I test drove it and an hour and a half later I wrote them a check.
Friday comes along, I go to the RV dealership and find out that I have to wait yet two more weeks to receive the license plate for the camper. Really? Damn.
I’ll wait. Geez…
Before settling in for the first night in the camper, I turned on the television and Eat Pray Love was on one of the movie channels. I love that movie and find myself wondering if the same thing will happen to me. Okay. Not really. But, I had ya going for a few minutes, eh?
The intent to connect with myself and experience the zest for life is similar, but not the same. I have no desire to eat my way through North Carolina, pray through the mid-west and fall in love in the west. Nope. I do desire to travel, to explore and to write. Now, if only I could leave the state.
Along the way…
Pearl Of Wisdom…
A common ‘state of being’ I’m hearing in various conversations is the unease of change.
When we initiate change it can be fun and exciting, but more times than not it is due to a circumstances beyond our control. As you know, that causes anxiety to prosper, seedlings of fears grow erratically and recycling doubt gifts the monkey mind with a powerful script.
The dark moments are just that – moments. It’s healthy for us to feel the heartbreak, fear and all the swirling emotions we feel. Your life is not in ruins. You’re not unlovable. You’ve experienced a traumatic event and you’re given the opportunity to evaluate what pieces of your life you wish to pick up and what to let go of. You, yes YOU, have the capabilities to put those pieces where and how you desire.
Breathe, be gentle on yourself. The decisions previously made were done so with the knowledge and options that were available at the time.
This morning I woke up with the thought, “I have to roast the sesame seeds.” Sesame seeds? What? Why? As I stood in the shower, the thought came to me, “To plant.”
Any gardener will tell you that by roasting the seeds you kill them. No matter how much water, love and attention you give the seeds, they simply will not grow.
Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.
-Robert Louis Stevenson
What if our darkest moments provide us with the opportunity to sort what seeds to sow for our future? What seeds will you plant? It’s your choice. It always has been.
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