Showdown With The Home Gestapo and Lost In Missouri

Freedom Hall Show Ring (photo by Liz Shatner)

It's been a long twelve days. A week ago Saturday we loaded up Mary and headed to Louisville for our yearly adventure at the Kentucky State Fair World's Championship Horse Show. We had our reservation for Mary at the KOA in Clarksville, Indiana and the menus planned for the suite in Freedom Hall. We looked forward to spending the week with friends, both local and from all over the country.

We had a reservation at the now infamous Porcini in Louisville for out annual Saturday-before-the-show dinner with Donnie and Phyllis Brookshire. If you don't know why the restaurant is infamous and are curious, just Google, "Rick Pitino, Porcini". It was a great meal, a great time and we had a great week. Congratulations to everyone who had great rides and won great ribbons! Especially to Tre and Emily Lee, who had a awesome week, and to the Brookshires and Gendrons, who had a super week as well!

We returned home with Mary on Sunday afternoon, tired and ready to get her unloaded and have a good night of rest. Normally we are home for a couple of weeks after the week in Louisville, and have time to recover and organize for our long fall trip in Mary, but this year John is judging the Mid America horse show in Kansas City beginning on the 1st so we planned on leaving on Wednesday. Essentially that gave us two days to get Mary cleaned up and get her packed for a two-month long trip. We discussed the logistics and decided to break the homeowners association rules (yes, we knew we were breaking the rules) by leaving her at the complex, in the guest parking space, until we left. The other option was to take her out to the farm, where she normally lives, for one day and then bring her back. Ridiculous. John said, "We are going to piss someone off." I said, "Too damn bad. There are people here breaking rules left and right and I don't see anyone doing anything about it." So it was decided.

The guest parking lot is out the back door and down a small hill from our unit. It is very convenient for us to be able to load and unload her from that space. Hardly anyone uses the space. Visitors are few on that side of the complex (and now I know why) and most visitors park in the driveways of the people they are visiting anyway. So we went on about unloading, cleaning, stocking her with food, and filling her with our clothes and things.

We went out to eat for lunch and dinner for two days and ran non-stop, like two crazy people to get everything done and get the condo ready to close up. We were on our way to dinner on Monday night and had just come around the corner where Mary was parked when we saw an older man with white hair, and a red bandanna tied around his head, leading a big white dog. He was waving us down with what I would describe as a stressed and angry expression. John stopped and rolled down his window. The guy waves his hand at the coach and demands to know if we have guests staying in "that".

Please start this You Tube video and then continue to read the blog post. Thank you.

John said no, and explained that it belongs to us. Then the man shouts at us (do people really think we are deaf?), "YOU CAN'T LEAVE THAT HERE OVERNIGHT!" John says, "Yes, we can." The man was obviously unhappy with that answer. He informed the man that the rules say it can be there for 24 hours. There was more back and forth about the rules being broken, and threats about fines and attorneys. We were both tired and short fused, and the man was getting belligerent. He hollers, "WE'RE GOING TO FINE YOU!" I hollered, "JUST KNOCK YOURSELF OUT!" John (who slightly shocked by my outburst) said, "You know buddy, you really need to get a job. You don't have enough to do." He hollered at John, "YOU'RE A NICE GUY!!!" and John hollered back, "WELL SO ARE YOU!!!" Then the guy turned and shouted over his shoulder, "OH GO TO HELL!" and stormed off.

We were both stunned. And then we were steamed. We went to dinner and I called one of our neighbors to find out who the hell that jerk was. She didn't know. Then I decided to visit the neighborhood-know-everything-and-everyone, who lives across the street from where Mary was parked. I marched across the street and rang her doorbell. I waited and waited and finally she opened the door. I said, "Can you tell me who the guy is with the white..." She cut me off and said, "Elrod" and backed up two steps like she was going to shut the door. I asked if that was the first name (seemed appropriate) she said, "No, Bob. He's on the Board." She's talking about the blessed group of individuals who make up the Home Owner's' Association (the real Gestapo). She had the expression of a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I thanked her and marched back across the street, thinking that was an odd encounter. Turns out she was the biggest duck in the puddle. Not a huge shock but a disappointment to be sure.

John asked me for the HOA president's name and phone number so I looked it up and he called him. He is a very nice man, and John apologized for breaking the rules, and causing him any grief, but also told him that being cussed by a board member in the middle of the street didn't seem appropriate in any way. The nice man agreed, he told us it was okay to leave the coach until Wednesday, that we would receive a letter from the HOA regarding the matter. John said they would be getting a letter back, and then they hung up.

After putting in a restless night we dragged ourselves out of bed and hit the floor running again. Another neighbor came to the door about 10:00 and we chatted for awhile. Apparently the entire neighborhood was buzzing about the coach and the incident with Board Member Elrod. She and her husband are very nice people and she just couldn't understand what the big deal was. My speculation is the same as John's; people really need more to do than to have a fit about looking at a luxury motor coach for two days. If we had parked an old junker car there and left cigarette butts and beer bottles piled in the guest parking space I would have understood the fuss. But I don't get this. The phrase "Get A Life" seems to fit.

After this we will bring her in, park all 50,000 pounds of her on the concrete driveway (technically that's where she is supposed to be for up to 24 hours) and let them deal with the damage to the driveway if she breaks down the concrete. I swear.

So Wednesday morning, before dawn, we fired Mary up and hit the road. We debated laying hard on the air horn as a farewell to the 'hood, but decided there were several nice people who didn't deserve to be rocked out of bed before the sun came up. Our destination was Virgil and Sandra Helm's farm in New Bloomfield, Missouri.

If you've read my prior posts you know how I feel about Missouri. It is a beautiful state but there is some kind of bad karma between me and Missouri. But there are some great people (like the Helm's) and several horse shows there so we have to go every now and again. I have a hard time looking forward to it, based on my history with Missouri.

We were motoring along, enjoying finally being on the road again. The day was pleasant and as we traveled north the weather began to cool off. We've had a brutal, humid summer in Kentucky so the cool air was so welcome. When we got close to Virgil's farm John called him to refresh his memory about the best way to get into the farm with the bus. He got the directions and told me to keep my eye peeled for Road BB. Check. We found Road BB and made a left on the narrow road.

We drove in the country past neat little places and pretty big farms, long horn cattle, a field full of goats (Ransom took special notice), big round bales of hay, hills and valleys, and ... John says, "I know it seems like we've gone 20 miles but I know it's only been 5 or 6 miles." I was thinking that it was more like 20 but I nodded, knowing that when you are looking for something it always seems to take longer than it really does. So we passed more farms, and houses, dogs, a few horses grazing, a few more hills and a few more valleys, three or four big redneck four wheel drives going 70 miles per hour, and John says, "I don't know. Maybe we passed it." I looked at the narrow road with no shoulders and thought to myself, "How in God's name will we ever turn this mother around if we are lost?" We kept driving. I tried to remember the address that I put on Helm's Christmas card. All I knew was that it wasn't Road BB. I slumped in my seat, creating disaster scenarios in my mind.

John called Virgil again. He explained how far we had gone and Virgil told him that when we turned on Road BB we were supposed to take an immediate right on Highway 54. That was the address on the Christmas card! I heard near panic in John's voice when he said, "Virgil, I don't know where I can turn this thing around." We drove on. And on. And on. John kept repeating, "I don't know where we are going to turn this around," between huge sighs. I thought that 150 gallon fuel tank was the best invention ever.

Finally we spotted a wide gravel driveway on the left side of the road. We determined that the car was going to have to be unhooked (can't back the bus with the car attached) so that was the first chore. It was sprinkling. I moved it as far to the side of the driveway as I could get it so I could help John back the bus out into the narrow road. I was wildly waving my arms, watching a blind curve to the right of us, in case a four wheel drive redneck truck came barreling around the corner (during this endeavor we both imagined hearing dueling banjos). Before he was as far as he could go he stopped. I heard his voice over the roar of the diesel engine but couldn't understand him. I wave him back again but he doesn't move. Sprinkles turn to rain. I'm pissed off. I march up to the driver's window. The bus is blocking the road and I can't see if the imagined four wheel drive redneck truck is going to bury itself into Mary's side. John hollers, "I can't get past the car!" I look. It's in the way. I run for the car, move it up ten feet, so now it is sticking out in the road, and by the time I get back out of the car I see that he didn't wait for me and has backed Mary to the point where the tag axle is hanging over the ditch. Two more feet and she is going to be stuck permanently across the road. "Stop!" I holler in total exasperation. I blew a gasket, threw my hands up in the air, got in the car and drove off.

In the rear view mirror I watch him pull Mary up and then straighten her on the correct side of the road. And then I realize that I have no clue where I'm going. I drove until I could pull over and let him by. He blew by me going so fast that I had to floor board the car to catch up. We made a hard turn to the left, and when I looked in the rear view mirror of the Camry I saw the bicycles tilt so far to left that I could see the front tires standing straight up. "SHIT!" I hollered (to no one but myself). The bike rack had come loose and if I didn't slow down I was going to dump the bikes in the road.

These bikes are those Landrider bikes that we suckered into on a TV infomercial, one rainy day when we couldn't get outside. They have automatic shift on them and are supposed to be easy to ride. Not really. They are also really expensive (as these kinds of bikes go). So I slowed down. Thankfully so did John. My left turns for the next 15 miles were carefully navigated until we finally arrived at Virgil and Sandy's place. I got out and Virgil says, "Gee Karen, did you get wet?" I looked like a drowned rat. John and I looked at each other and cracked up laughing. I looked at the bike rack and it was hanging on by one hook. It really is a miracle that they weren't scattered from hell to breakfast somewhere in Missouri.

We went to dinner with Sandy and Virgil and had a great time. And we slept with the windows open in the coach. Wonderful. Today we went to breakfast and then Virgil took John and I out to see some horses "out in the country". Holy cow. We drove for an hour out into an Amish and Mennonite community, to a nice man's Saddlebred farm. The countryside is gorgeous. We looked at some nice horses and then drove back to Virgil's place so that we could get on the road and get to Longview Park in Kansas City. We had a reservation at the campground by the lake for Mary for three nights so John can judge his show. The weather was still off and on rainy and we tootled along enjoying the day. Ransom sat with me in my navigator's chair and Breezy tucked in behind John's seat.

We were doing great but when we got close I realized that I didn't have, and couldn't find, an exact address for the campground. I put the address of the parks and recreation department in the GPS which I figured would get us close. We got on I-470 and off at exit 5. It was raining pretty hard. The big wipers that clear the rain off of Mary's giant windshield were slowly rocking back and forth. The GPS (Genius) wanted us to turn right on 109th Avenue. So we did. We were lost. Again. We drove and drove until we were on a road that was heading into a residential neighborhood. John stopped twice while we had heated discussions about what to do. "You can't sit here in the road," I said. "We have to go even if it is the wrong way." He sighed, again, and again. Finally we just drove until we found a big church parking lot to turn around in. Once she was turned around I said, "Please stop here and don't move an inch until I get some directions to this place." Not one to want to sit still at any time, anywhere, it was a request that was granted begrudgingly.

I finally found a phone number for the campground and got this grouchy woman who made me feel like an idiot (which I can definitely be sometimes). I hung up and stormed back to the front, plunked myself in my seat and said, "We have to go back to where we turned off." John sighed again. The rain came pelting down and the wind was blowing hard. We're both stressed out to the max. The windshield wipers made a slow, half swipe, and they quit. Dead. No wipers. "Oh perfect," I said. "What comes next." I was thinking that Missouri was again treating me the way Murphy usually does.

We were both quiet for awhile studying the road hard between raindrops. We made the turn onto the main road and followed the signs to the campground, like the grouchy old woman said to. We drove, and drove, and drove some more. We kept seeing the little tent on the brown sign, pointing to the campground but it was becoming more and more like Road BB.

John and I read "Younger Next Year" recently (highly recommend) and have become believers in the science behind exercise being what will keep us healthy and happy into our later years. So we have been diligent about working out. We belong to Snap Fitness and they have clubs everywhere, plus we have weights and workout DVDs in the coach. Earlier we were talking about going to Snap to work out once we get set up here in Longview. As we drove, without benefit of windshield wipers, and unsure that we were not going to end up unhooking the car and having a melt down in the road again, I looked at him and said, "I'm not going to Snap tonight." He said, "Two seconds before you said that I thought the same thing. I'm having a scotch" We both fell into a fit of laughter. After what seemed like 50 miles we happened into this beautiful campground, which is nearly deserted. It's quiet and the weather is supposed to be perfect for the next two days, in the 70's and sunny. We actually didn't get into the scotch tonight and we will hit the gym tomorrow.

I'll get my camera out and start taking photos to post. I have to get back into the swing of traveling in Mary now. It's great. We both just love it. When we leave here we are headed to New Mexico for some time in Santa Fe and Taos. We are going to the canyon country of Utah, the Redwoods of California and Crater Lake in Oregon. We'll spend some time in Springfield with Arcuris, see my family, and head to the horse show in Las Vegas in October. From there we'll go to the Scottsdale show at the end of the month and then home again!

The book is still on track. The only thing left is for me to get an author's proof (a real book!), approve it, and then it will be available. Just another two to three weeks! I'll keep you posted!

Cover!

The cover is finally done! I can't believe it. The publisher has the manuscript with the final changes, so we are two to three weeks from having a real book in my hands to approve. After that it will be immediately available on the publisher's website and on Amazon.com about two weeks later.

Woo-hoo!!! It's almost done!

I've been working on the second one lately and having a blast. The actual writing is what I really love, especially when I'm in the process of creating characters. I set up a situation and see what they will do and say. It's so much fun!

We are currently in Clarksville, Indiana, attending the Kentucky State Fair World's Championship Horse Show. For non-Kentucky residents, Clarksville is just across the Ohio River from Louisville, about 8 miles from the fairgrounds. We have Mary set up at a KOA and the dogs are settled in for the week. This is our third year staying here in Mary and it is such a great change from staying at a hotel by the fairgrounds, kenneling the dogs, and eating out all week. The dogs are so familiar with many of the places that we go each year that they know what to expect and act accordingly. Breezy, being the Border Collie that she is, goes into funk mode right after she eats her dinner at 4:00 in the afternoon. She knows we are going to clean up and leave for the evening. Ransom, being the eternal optimist, doesn't hit funk mode until we are dressed and put our shoes on. Then he bats his big, sad, hazel eyes at us and it's enough to make you want to cry. Breezy gets as flat on the floor as a 45 pound dog can get. She looks like a Border Collie throw rug. I've always wondered what they do once we leave. My guess is that they jump up and throw each other high fives for successfully making us feel like the worst doggie parents on the planet.

Last evening we stepped outside of the coach into 90 degrees of saturated air. This summer has been the hottest that I've spent since I was trapped in Coalinga, California from May to August back in 1986 (long story). Coalinga is very close to the massive Harris Feedlot along Interstate 5, the one that you can smell for ten miles in any direction before you happen upon a sea of 180,000 poor, sweltering cattle, eating God knows what (you can't believe what they feed them) and awaiting slaughter. Coalinga isn't quite the end of the earth, but you can see it from there.

Okay, back to the fair.

The next challenge is to get into the gate at the fairgrounds. Any of you who have attended this show know what I'm talking about without my describing it. For those of you who don't, it's similar to negotiating an obstacle course, littered with Gestapo, who are there to keep you from where you know you need to go. You have to have all of the proper credentials to get in, or you pay cash. We pay in advance (and through the nose) for the car parking pass, which gets us into the exhibitor parking area by the barn, for the VIP suite and six seats that sit in front of it, for an arm band (its green this year) so that John can get down by the rail of the arena or into the arena to assist someone if they request it, and for a book of gate tickets. You can also use the stubs of the seat tickets as admission to the fair. The tickets come in big sheets, color coded for each day and evening. It never fails that there is mass confusion at the gate, for at least the first three days, due to hiring new (and untrained) gate attendants each year.

On the way to the fairgrounds I tore the little stubs off of two of the Sunday Evening tickets, ready to hand them to the gate attendant. John had AFFIXED the parking pass to the windshield. If you don't AFFIX it to the windshield the Gestapo will get you ... that is, if they recognize the parking pass at all. Last night they didn't. John, who by his calculations has been "putting up with this crap for nearly forty years", was out of patience before we got to the gate.

I think there might be something to the idea that if you expect the worst you are likely to get it.

So after we negotiated the traffic in the entrance (there was some poor soul in a beat up minivan, who apparently made a wrong turn and was parked sideways blocking three lanes so we waited in a snarl of traffic so she could get turned around and out of our path) we pull up to the gate (looks like an expressway toll gate) and this enthusiastic young lady hollers in the window, "HOW CAN I HELP YOU?"

I'm not sure if she was yelling because it was noisy outside or if she thought because we have gray hair we are deaf. I was tempted to holler back, "WE WANT TO GET IN!"

Instead I handed John the admission stubs and he handed them to her. "OH," she says. "JUST A MINUTE," and she disappears into the booth. She comes back and says, "I NEED TO SEE THE REST OF THE TICKET."

I'm thinking, "Since when?" They have never needed to see the REST of the ticket. I looked at John and I can see an explosion brewing so instead of arguing with her I dig in my purse for the top half of the tickets. In the mean time she looks at John and says, "THAT'LL BE EIGHT DOLLARS."

"For WHAT?" he asks with an edge to his voice that tells me that there is going to be a showdown at Gate 1 on the first night of the fair.

"FOR PARKING," she yells into the car. He says, "No, you don't get EIGHT DOLLARS," and points to the yellow parking sticker that is AFFIXED to the window.

"OH. JUST A MINUTE," she says and disappears back into the booth. In the mean time I have the top half of the seat tickets in my hand and I'm waving them at her. I glance over at John and I see him hit the end of his fuse. He yells out the window at another woman who looks like she is supervising the toll booth attendants, "YOU NEED TO GET THESE PEOPLE UP TO SPEED!" He's stabbing at the yellow sticker on the window. "I DON'T PAY FOR PARKING HERE!" He stabs at it again. Heat waves are lofting through the car while we sit there sorting this out. He's grumbling and grousing and I'm thinking that it's going to be a long damn week.

Next comes the flurry of excuses as to why no one recognizes the parking pass. I'm still waving the ticket stubs at the woman and she finally says, "I DON'T NEED TO SEE THOSE." I stuff them back in my purse, she hands us admission tickets (this is a tree-killing nightmare) and we finally move forward. They have this weird and totally inefficient set up, where you do all of the Gestapo crap at the gate, and then you drive ten feet and stop again. There you encounter the fair equivalent of the neighborhood welcome wagon, people suffering borderline heat stroke, who are there to take the admission tickets that you picked up ten feet back, hand you a booklet (more dead trees) that tells you what is going on at the fair (we don't care) and wish you a happy fair experience. It's been going on since my mother and I first came to the fair in 1995, and I'm sure long before that.

The gate that we normally go through requires that we drive almost all the way around a circular one-way road until we get to the barn parking entrance. There is Gestapo stationed at every entrance, and of course, you have to have the proper credentials to get into each entrance. There is parking inside of the circle, and outside of the circle. We park inside. There are crossings for the people who park outside. Some people use the crosswalks, most people don't. At each crossing there are two or three Gestapo crossing guards, big scary looking people who stare you down while they wave STOP signs at you. I sense that you don't want to mess with these people, so at each crossing I get a little edgy about my husband taking one on, because he is so out of patience with this whole process after "putting up with this crap for nearly forty years." You have to drive slowly and watch for people with baby carriages because they can come out of nowhere and end up under your car (a reoccurring nightmare that I have when we are here for the week). The ones without baby carriages and no children are fair game (no pun intended). I figure it they are stupid enough to step out in front of a moving vehicle they they have paid their money and are willing to take their chances with a man who is at the end of his fuse with the Kentucky State Fair.

Once we get to the horse barn entrance there is usually a little flurry of confusion about letting us into the parking lot. We do this seven nights in a row and on Saturday night they always have a huge concert with some big name entertainer so the traffic is murder. I have faith that the gate attendants will sharpen up as the week wears on. I hope so anyway or we will have a Waterloo with John and who ever gets in his way.

After the fair is over we are going to be traveling in Mary again. We have some fun stops planned so I'll take a lot of photos and upload to Facebook and keep up with this blog. I'll also be working on the other blog at www.silentpartneronline.com. It is much more complicated than this one to use, but if I ever figure it out it will probably be a better business tool, and give me more creative flexibility. I'm deep into Wordpress For Dummies at the moment.

Until next time...

Good luck to Phicicle and Tre Lee on Thursday night!

And congratulations to Paranormal and Tre Lee Sunday night!

Cowboy Up ... And Down

The Jackson Five (number 6 is behind the camera)

Okay ... we've been busy. I know that's no excuse. I actually got a prompt from Kim Skipton on FaceBook, a polite reminder that I've been neglecting my personal blog. She commented on how she would like to see the photos of Wyoming that I posted on FaceBook on my BLOG. Got the hint.

I believe I left you in May. Since then the mares have all foaled and all is well with them and their new babies. They are in Shelbyville this year so I don't get to see them and take photos of them as often as I did last year. And we've been really busy so I haven't seen them in awhile. That's on the agenda for next week because we are actually going to be home. YAY!

We took Mary and headed down to Germantown in June. John agreed to judge the Germantown Charity show this year so we loaded up his judging duds and the dogs and hit the road for Memphis. We stayed out at the show grounds which I thought was pretty cool. It's such a beautiful area and the grounds are so nice. It reminds me of an old county fair setting and everything is so tidy, with flags and and flower baskets. Besides, John could walk to work. Bill and Mary Lynn Whitley were working the show too so we hung out with them some during the day and they worked at night.

There was a great place to walk the dogs, foot trails through the woods. We had to go early the first morning because they were predicting very warm temperatures. Boy was that an understatement. The entire time we were there (six days) the heat got more intense and the humidity got worse. Every night John had to wear a suit and tie and stand in a large bowl to judge and every night he came in at 11:00 soaked through his coat. It got to the point where we would take the dogs for a walk early in the morning and then we made short sprints out with them for potty duties while the sun was up, and then more time out after dark.

On the third morning I was working away on my computer when I looked down and saw something move on the seat where I was sitting. It was a little round bug with lots of legs and a little pattern on its back. "TICK!" I shouted and jumped up. John was dozing in his chair and my hollering nearly gave him heart failure. I grabbed a paper towel, wet it and scooped it up before it could get away. I drowned it in the kitchen sink. Then I sat down and hopped on the internet to find out what the hell kind of blood sucker the thing was. Wikipedia to the rescue. It was a common dog tick. From there I hit the floor with Breezy and started going through her hair. No ticks. Ransom was easier, little short haired guy that he is. Next I went to the calendar to see when they were due for their Frontline. The next week. Off to the pet store. I figured a few days early wasn't too soon to keep the nasty vermin from feeding on our fur babies. But that didn't help us.

Did you ever notice how when you encounter something in the insect world that can bite you and make you itch or some other such thing, that you become hypersensitive to every little hair that moves on your arm, or skin nerve that twitches, and it sends you into a fit of panic? Ticks freak me out. Not as much as mice do (I'm already planning my anti-mouse strategy for our time in Oregon this year) but I've seen first hand what kind of damage the shitty little blood suckers can do to horses, dogs and humans. And try to get one off of you once it has buried its nasty head in your skin and bloated into a little balloon of blood. Not nice.

The next morning we went for our walk and then had breakfast. John was playing with his new iPad (early birthday present) when a tick dropped out of nowhere onto his yellow shirt. I saw him jump and I flew into action, grabbing my wet paper towel and promptly drowning the thing.

Super-hyper-hyper sensitivity set in. We stopped walking in the morning and I became the dog walking Gestapo. Poor dogs. I wouldn't let them stand still in the grass unless they were actually doing their duties. I dragged them out and back in record time. Never mind that it was too hot to breathe outside, the entire grounds was hopping with dog ticks. I ventured down to watch a jumping Clydesdale one evening. For that I got sweat soaked clothes that stuck to me to the degree that I had to peel them off. For the most part I spent the rest of my time barricaded in the coach battling imaginary ticks.

I had a problem getting the license plate renewal for the coach. The car reminder came but the coach didn't. I renewed the car, thinking that the coach paperwork would come along any day. It didn't. I got online and renewed the plates but we couldn't get the tags before we left for Germantown. I had the paperwork in case we got stopped. About a week after we got home I got a letter in the mail from the City of Germantown. In the letter there is a photo of the back of the coach and the Camry going through an intersection. It was a ticket! First I thought that they got us for expired plates. I was so sure of it that I didn't read the ticket. A day or so later it struck me that the photo was taken while we were just entering the intersection so I went back and looked. Above the coach I could see that the light was red. Fifty bucks. I remember that light. Unfortunately we can't stop 50,000 pounds of motor coach on a dime. The speed limit through that area was 45 mph and I remember that there was no way to stop without creating an interior disaster area in Mary, was thankful that John didn't cram on the brakes to stop, and then I didn't think about it again. Don't you love this Big Brother crap?

Our next big adventure was out to Wyoming for our week of playing John Wayne in the Grand Teton National Park. What a great time! Jimmy and Helen Robertson, Andi Bittker and her boyfriend Eban and John and I spent seven days galloping across the Snake River Valley, riding up the mountainside and down, across the river and through the woods. Helen, Andi and I hiked 8. 2 miles on Wednesday and another 8 or so miles on Friday with the guys. We rode twice on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday with the guys, and floated down the Snake River for two hours after a dinner cookout. Saturday everyone rode but me because somewhere in my Calamity Jane escapades I thew my back out. Still working on that one.

The Last Night ... Worn OUT

Ranch Horses Coming In Early

I have been to some really gorgeous places in my life but I think that the Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone is probably the most beautiful. I got to explore a lot of in on a dandy little trail horse named Diego. He was new to Triangle X. They take wonderful care of their horses, rotating them in the summer so that they don't have to work back to back weeks. They bring the herd in early in the morning from a big pasture across the highway and saddle them for their day's work. They have horses for all levels of riders. All are shod regularly and they are both fit and fat from summer grass. They work for 2 1/2 hours in the morning, get a break while we eat lunch and then for 2 1/2 more hours in the afternoon before they are herded across the road and spend all night out, knee deep in feed. Most of their work is done at a walk. We tended to take the fast rides, which meant that we galloped on the flat areas so that we could see more on our rides. Diego never laid an ear down and happily long trotted and galloped along with the rest of the horses.

Diego (in front) and John's horse Traveler on a riding break

John rode the horse that he had last time, Traveler. He is an older Missouri Fox Trotter that has been in the dude string for at least 8 years. He walks, trots, ambles and canters. Of course John found the amble gait immediately when he first got him and used it a lot. While we were consuming Advil and a massive rate, and tending to the raspberries and chaffing on our legs, he's telling us all how he isn't one bit sore, not one bit! He reminded us of that at least twice a day. We all scowled at him at least twice a day.

The hike that Helen, Andi and I took up in the mountains was nothing short of heavenly. It was difficult because we hiked up several steep switchbacks but we wanted to get to Cascade Canyon, a hike that none of us had done before. It was well worth the effort. We started by hiking part way around Jenny Lake. From there we went to Hidden Falls, a gorgeous spot. Then it was up to Inspiration Point, which John later renamed Desperation Point. We did that hike the last time we were there. This time we followed the trail out to Cascade Canyon. I wish I could describe it and do it justice. I'm not sure if it was the altitude (probably 7,000 feet) or the endorphins from pushing so hard up to Inspiration Point but I don't think I've ever been to a place where I felt more peaceful. It affected all three of us that way. We had a great day and came back with lots of pretty pictures and great memories.

My Hiking Buddies

For a complete web album of photos go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/tagfish1/Jackson2010#

Now for a book update. Today I got the mock up of the interior of the book and approved that. Then I had a phone consultation on the cover design. Within a week I'll have two mockup designs of the cover to look at. I'll consult with the designer and then we'll decide on a cover design. In the mean time I should get a digital draft of the book, which I will have my trusty proofreader go over and we will make any last minute changes before it goes to press. Best estimate is about three weeks to publication! YAY!

I've started another blog, using different blog site that is far more complicated than this one, but allows me more creativity. At the moment I'm struggling to understand the language of the more complicated blog but I did manage to get it up and I'm working on it intensely every day. I also have a copy of "WordPress For Dummies" on the way.

The address is: http://silentpartneronline.com. Check it out and let me know what you think. It's only been up for two days so there is a lot of work left to do. I will be posting excerpts from the book and updates on how it is coming along. Once it is out, you will be able to purchase it on Amazon.com and download it on Kindle and Barnes and Noble Nook. That won't all happen on the same day but I'll post the availability dates on the Silent Partner blog. Please feel free to pass on ideas. This is my first time through the process so I need all of the help I can get! If you read it and like it, please tell your friends and write a review on Amazon.com. I'll post a link for that once it is up on Amazon.

I hope you are having a terrific summer so far! Enjoy and I'll be blogging on this site (I know ... promises, promises) and the other one. I can be a little freer in my expression on this one so I won't give it up!

It's May!

First new filly of 2010...she's a little shy

Where did February, March and April go?

Posting the quote for the month was more for me than anyone. I am amazed that it is May and my last post was in January. It has been an eventful time, some good events and some not good events but that's the way life goes sometimes.

I went back to see where I left off and had to search my memory banks so that I can finish the story that I started last year. Last year...that's pretty pathetic. One of the frustrations of middle age for me is losing my short term memory. But I probably already told you that.

And now, the rrrrrest of the story.

When we left Scottsdale, early on a sun kissed desert morning, we were in a bit of a hurry to get home. We had been gone for nearly two months and John wanted to get back for a day or two of the Tattersall's fall sale and a Halloween party that we had been invited to at The Castle in Versailles. We took a shorter, off-Interstate route to I-40 that took us through some beautiful cactus covered mountain country. John pushed Mary over hill and dale until we got to I-40 and then we pelted toward Tucumcari, New Mexico to spend the night. When we arrived and got into our spot John opened the door and the steps came out (as they should) but when he closed the door and the steps retracted, they pulled all the way in but the motor kept working as though it didn't get the message that the steps were in as far as they could go. Now we were both doing the big exasperated sighs. And my list of things to write to Guaranty RV about was not only growing, it was taking form with lots of angry words.

The next morning we got up early and hit it again blasting across the panhandle of Texas and into Oklahoma. Each time we stopped the steps repeated their routine only adding another few seconds to the over zealous step motor. John was so worried that the motor would burn out again that he decided to get under Mary in one of those picnic areas in middle of nowhere in Texas. It was hot out and the wind was blowing like a blast furnace. He put on an old tee shirt, got down on the hot blacktop, scooted as far under as he could get (she sits pretty low) and took a look. He didn't see anything. When he got up he had tar all over his Wranglers (which I'm still trying to get out by the way) and his tennies. The tee shirt was toast. So for the rest of the way home we limited our stops as much as possible and locked the steps into the out position at fuel stops. He was going to pull the fuse on the steps but we realized that Guaranty and absconded with the mounting block that we bought in Indiana two months earlier (when the steps quit working) when we were on our way out West. Another thing to add to the list ("...and to add insult to injury you stole our bleeping mounting block!!").

We made it the rest of the way in without burning up the motor but when John took her over to Bluegrass RV the guy got under her and said, "They didn't connect the ground wire." Apparently it was just hanging there.

The letter was very cathartic to write. It included all of the details of the things that they said they fixed that they apparently either didn't fix or did a half assed job of fixing along with the totals of what we spent (tapping that total out on my handy little calculator drained the blood from my brain for a few minutes), copies of the invoices from the other RV repair places, vivid descriptions of the discoveries and experiences connected to their inept work, or lack thereof and a demand that they reimburse us for a percentage of the work that they did. Then I had to call them (after emailing and getting nowhere) to find out where to send the letter. Even a question as simple as "To what address do I send a letter of complaint?" took a day to sort out and I ended up with two different addresses. To their credit (or perhaps to mine) they did reimburse us for the amount that I requested.

Zorro Jones (Halloween 2009)

Sister Karen (carrying son of Zorro)

Over the winter we had a few things done to Mary. We got her CB fixed finally...it never has worked...and she developed an oil leak while taking her winter rest so she went to our local diesel repair in Lexington to have a gasket replaced. Before we left for our first trip (which we are taking as I type) John had a local guy wash and hand wax her so she was sparkling when we took her out of her six month storage and hit the road.

We had plans to go to Key West for a week toward the end of February but A.J. Bruwer had a terrible horse accident breaking his leg badly a few weeks before we were to leave. John agreed to work his horses until he got back up and going so we were grounded for the balance of the winter and into the spring months.

Due to selling the Florida house this was the first winter that we spent in Kentucky in several years and it was one of the snowiest winters in recent history (thank you Murphy). We griped and groused our way through it (February is suicide-watch month for me and March is for John) counting the days until the daffodils peeked through the frosty ground. I planted them in our front flowerbed last fall and I was out there examining the ground with a magnifying glass every day until I saw the very tips of green bravely poking out of the bark. Dancing on the sidewalk ensued. I know our neighbors thought I had lost it. I did.

The extent of UK basketball madness at our house

We had to cancel our semi-annual spring trip to Scottsdale as well which added fuel to our winter madness. To make matters worse we were offered tickets to the SEC Tournament in Nashville to watch the Cats play but couldn't find a room or a spot for Mary anywhere in the vicinity. We were totally feeling sorry for ourselves by that time. We spent the winter living from basketball game to basketball game (and thanks to the Johnson's we got to go to two of them). It kept us away from bridges and gave us a reason to see it through. Then I got a call from my sister Linda in Oregon telling me that my Dad was sick and had just been admitted to the hospital.

My Dad (C.B. Fish) and step mother Barbara (in the middle) photographed with some bikers they met on one of their RV adventures (I come by it naturally!)

For nearly a week I got regular reports about his condition all the while we all were thinking and being led to believe by the doctors that he would get better. He didn't. We lost him on March 9th. He was 81. He had a wonderful life, an incredibly sweet and kind man, and when he passed on he was surrounded by all of his children and people who loved him. On March 13th I was getting ready to come home to Kentucky and looking forward to it when John called me and told me that Vic Arcuri (Tim's brother) had passed away. He was just 62. Vic had been sick for some time so we knew it was coming but it was tough none the less. He was a great guy with an open heart and a big warm smile for everyone he met. He had requested that John be a pall bearer so I changed my flight and booked John a flight out to Oregon. A week later, after the funeral we both came home.

I find that losing people you love gives you an opportunity to reflect and refocus. Perspective on the quibbles and grumbles of daily life comes in a mega dose. I'll continue to make light of the little irritations of life but in the big picture I'm very much more appreciative of each day of a healthy and happy life and all of the wonderful people (and critters) in it.

On to happier things now.

We took a fun trip out to California in April. We went to Palm Springs and stayed at Villa Royale, a boutique hotel which was Sonja Hennie's house back in the golden age of Hollywood. It was such a delightful spot. We spent two days with Arcuri's at their home in La Quinta which was fun (beautiful home and setting, great friends) and then we headed up to Santa Barbara for a couple of days at The Biltmore. That was almost indescribable. Historical, Spanish, luxurious, elegant, delicious, gracious...I could go on and on. What a treat!

Giant Fig tree at The Biltmore in Santa Barbara (John is standing under it)

Now we are in St. Paul, Minnesota. I'd post a photo but I don't have any yet (there's a reason for that). We left Lexington in Mary last Tuesday and drove up to Rock Island, Illinois for the night. We really didn't want to go through Chicago so we took the route through Iowa to I-35 and on in to St. Paul. On Wednesday we were doing great until we got half way through Iowa. I was comfortable in my seat reading when I felt Mary lurch to the right. I looked over at John and his jaw muscles were bulging. I looked out the window as Mary lurched to the right again. The trees looked like they had rubber trunks, swaying way over to the right and snapping back upright. "Wind," he said and sighed. We spent the next several hours being buffeted around the highway like the mammoth bread box that Mary morphs into in the wind. Just before we crossed over the Iowa, Minnesota border we heard a huge THUMP. We looked at each other. "What was that?" I asked. John didn't answer. It was quiet. Mary kept going. I knew we would figure it out sooner or later.

We've come a long way from our first adventure in Mary when a THUMP would have put us in a panic and on the side of the road!

The Biltmore

They are doing road construction on I-35 in Minnesota and in places had us on a two lane road with truck and trailer rigs ripping by us going the opposite direction. With the wind blowing and the wake from the trucks Mary was nearly unmanageable. John said that if he didn't have to be in the ring judging the next day that he would pull her over for the night. It really was that bad.

We got directions to the fairgrounds from Guy Warner. We arrived in Minneapolis at 5:00 and promptly got trapped in traffic and more road construction. I could see that the pilot was past tired. Finally we pulled into the fairgrounds where Guy met us. When I opened the door he said, "Are you aware that you are missing an air conditioner shroud?" The THUMP. "I knew something was wrong," I said as I got out and strained on my tip toes to see on top of the coach. I informed John and he used the appropriate expletives and then called Monaco. The guy there told him that the air conditioner would need to be covered with some plastic so that it wouldn't leak in case it rained. It has rained every day since then. And that's why I don't have any photos!

I got on the internet and looked up the local Walmart. We put the dogs in the car and took off in search of the Walmart. I stayed in the car while John shopped for plastic. He said he had duct tape (:-) ...gorilla tape actually and we have scissors so he crawled up on Mary and went to work. Unfortunately he didn't have his glasses on when he bought the plastic. He thought he got 7 MIL which would be very heavy plastic. In fact he had bought .7 MIL which is about the thickness of the plastic that they cover your clothes with at the dry cleaners. Exasperated from trying to manage the flimsy plastic on top of Mary in 45 mile an hour wind gusts he came down and said he got some on and asked if I would go and get some heavier plastic Thursday while he was judging. No problem. Then we had a scotch.

The next day I looked on the Internet for a Super Target. I needed to get a few forgotten food items and the plastic so that seemed to be the best place to go. I loaded Breezy and Ransom, set Genius (GPS) and he chattered at me until I found the Target store. I got a basket and went to work with my list. As I was shopping I was catching parts and pieces of conversations between other shoppers and clerks. I stopped at one point and smiled. "Fargo", I thought. There is a distinct lilt in the accent up here that left me feeling like I had traveled to a foreign country. At one point I realized that I just plain couldn't understand most of what was being said and I'm usually the one who is translating accents for everyone else. Like the mid-south the people up here are very friendly and helpful or very intense and serious, not much in between. People must feel somewhat the same way as I did when visiting Kentucky or the Carolina's for the first time!

It's Saturday and I just took John over to do his job for the evening performance. The fairgrounds is quite nice and the dogs have a great place to play if the weather would ease up. We bought Ransom and Breezy a new Frisbee to play with and kept the old one so that they each can have one to play with when we go out. I figured that would solve the problem of Ransom getting the Frisbee and running off with it. Unfortunately they both want the old one. We both threw the new one and they just looked at us like we were daft and then bounced around us trying to get the old one out of my hand. It is warped, permanently dirty and full of tooth holes but that's the one that they want. Dogs are like kids in many ways. Favorite binky, favorite blanket, no matter how worn and beat up they are. So for awhile I guess we will have to take the new one, leave the old one in the coach and let them maul the new one until it has the right scent, shape and texture to be pleasing. And Breezy will have to wait for Ransom to stop running around gloating when he gets the Frisbee.

As many of you know (most of you probably because I think John has told everyone in the Universe) I wrote a book. It is a work of fiction called "Silent Partner". I started it in 2005, finished the original manuscript in 2007, and have edited it to death. I'm on my third laptop since I started it...which may be a testament as to how long it took to finish or may be a statement on how hard I am on computers. Not sure which. What I know is that I could write a book about writing the book! Anyway, it is currently being professionally edited and will be in print and available on Amazon.com sometime in July if all goes well. I'm about to create a new blog for "Silent Partner" where I will detail my experiences with writing, publishing and marketing my project as well as posting excerpts from the book and other information. At this point I am planning on a website for it as well but I'm going to start with the blog being as I'm pretty comfortable with this format.

As soon as I have an address for it I'll post it here. I hope you will check it out! And I'll be back with more adventures on the road!

Arizona

Leaving the Arcuri's farm in October

It's nearly the end of January. Where does the time go? I swear that yesterday it was Christmas!

When I left you we were on our way to Arizona for the Carousel Charity Horse Show. We left Springfield following Tim and Jeanne Arcuri in their new Monaco Dynasty pulling a pretty new four horse trailer with three horses aboard. They have had coaches before but not for a long time so they were feeling a little like we were two years ago when we picked up Mary in Wakarusa. Well maybe not that bad but coach technology has come a million miles in ten years. They are user friendly even to those who have zero experience with one. We can attest to that!

Mt. Shasta from the road

We followed the Arcuri's down to Mt. Shasta. It was a spectacular day and the Mountain was just breathtaking. We stopped at a rest area so that they could water the horses and we took the dogs out for a spin. The next part of the trip was through the mountain pass at Mt. Shasta so we parted company. They planned to drive through to Scottsdale and we planned to stop for the night. Besides, John is not a great follower. He leads well but following makes him a little tense. Once we were on the road we made great time. We spent the night outside of Redding and the next morning we were off to Needles. That is a fairly long haul and we weren't going to get in until late so I made a reservation at the KOA in Needles where we stayed once before. A great thing about KOA is that after hours they will leave the space number and instructions on the door when you pull in.

As planned we arrived around 8:30. It was dark and I had the directions to the KOA off of their website (very simple) but we had also programed the GPS (Genius I call it) with the address. The directions didn't match. So in the dark along the freeway I am telling John that the exit is upcoming and he is looking at Genius and telling me that it isn't for another few miles. We are both tired and cranky. He says, "What do I do?" I said something to the effect that Genius would win out over KOA anyway so follow Genius. Silence fell as we drove by the exit that the KOA website said to take (which also had one of those little yellow KOA tent signs on it saying "KOA THIS WAY"). It occurred me as we were driving in the dark that Genius sent us the direction that we left the KOA the last time we were there, which caused me to breathe again and stop painting disaster scenarios in my mind. We saw the familiar palm trees and the lights on the entry to the park but when we made the turn into the park I lost the feeling of familiarity. We pulled up to the office looking for the night box when a man in shorts with his hair standing straight up came out waving his arms at us. A strange conversation ensued. They had no record of our reservation but thankfully they still had a spot available. Being as we were bleary eyed we were grateful for that and he guided us in. It wasn't until we were parked and plugged in that we all realized that this was NOT the KOA but a park right next door. When you reserve a space on the KOA website and don't give them 24 hours notice they charge you for the space. In the end we didn't care. We were tired and just wanted to get set up, get something to eat and go to bed. When John said to the guy, "You must get a lot of business this way" the guy replied that they don't have to advertise but just rely on people getting lost. Okay...

Following Arcuri's trailer over Oregon pass

The next morning we got up really early and got ready to go. One of the last things I do before we go is to close the slides. Everything went well until I closed the bedroom slide on the driver's side. It's the one that the bed is attached to. Of the four slides on this coach all are hydraulic except the one with the bed which is run by an electric motor. What the reasoning is behind that I'm not sure but it's a fact. I hit that slide button last and when it got to the closed position I heard something go SNAP! My stomach sank. I stared at the button debating whether I dare try to move the slide out again. The part of me that can live in denial said "LEAVE IT ALONE". The other part that must know said, "PUSH THE BUTTON". I had a rousing 15 second argument with myself. The must-know part won. I pushed the "Slide Out" button and I heard the motor running but the slide wasn't moving. About that time John came in from checking the car's hookups and announced that all was well and we were ready to go. "Not quite," I said. "What's wrong?" he asked. I gave him the run down. He tried the button himself. I know that probably doesn't make any sense but I've done that. There is something in our brains that says that if I push the button instead of you pushing the button it will somehow miraculously work. Sometimes it does. But not this time. We found the small miracle in the fact that the thing died while the slide was in. If it was out it would have been an entirely different scenario.

On the road to Scottsdale

So we hit the road and John got on the phone with Monaco to find a repair place in Scottsdale. They gave us the name of a place called RV Renovators in Mesa. John made the call and they said that they would be happy to work on Mary when we got there which according to Genius would be around 2:30 in the afternoon.

We decided to take a different route to the Phoenix area this time. We took an exit toward Lake Havasu. The road was perfect and the scenery was beautiful. There was very little traffic (the sun was just coming up) and we hummed along until we got to the Lake. I didn't actually see the London Bridge but I saw all of the signs to it. My biggest surprise was how large the Lake is and how much of a city has sprung up around it. It is a beautiful spot!

We drove and drove and drove until we hit Interstate 10 and drove on in to Mesa. Genius guided us into Mesa and we found RV Renovators. John parked and went in to talk to them about our slide problem. He returned with a nice guy named Eddie who took one look at Mary and said, "Your ride height isn't right"

Unfreakingbelievable.

Some Eastern philosophies say that in order to achieve peace in your life you need to give up the idea of being right all of the time. I truly did not want to be right about what my eyes were telling me. Being wrong would have been wonderful. In an effort to make myself wrong, a few days before we left Springfield I put an egg on the counter in the galley. I willed it to sit still. It rolled to the right side of the coach. "Funny shaped egg," I told myself.

John and Eddie went to work on the bed leaving ride height for later. They propped the air mattress up and looked in the compartment beneath the bed. There they found the motor. They tested it. Eddie said, "I've never seen this happen before." The shaft that runs through the motor that turns the gears that moves the slide was broken in two. It is a half inch piece of steel rod and it just broke. Eddie went see if they had a motor that would fit. Before he left he told us not to hold out a lot of hope. Being as these things almost never break it was a long shot that they would have what we needed. The RV repair gods were smiling on us and he came back with a motor that fit! They spent some time installing it, closed up the bed and moved on to ride height. While Eddie was installing the motor John mentioned to him that we were having trouble getting the generator to turn over and that Guarantee looked at it but said they didn't know why either (hello?). Eddie said he would check it out after he fixed the ride height.

As it turns out the ride height measurement for Mary is supposed to be 9 inches on both sides. Any first grader would know that 9 inches on both sides is level. Eddie did the measurements and found that she was 8 on the right side and 10 1/2 on the left. Not only that, she had an "iffy" (according to Eddie) ride height valve. I tried to give Guaranty the benefit of the doubt but when I realized that she didn't pump herself up to ten and a half on the left all by herself that went out the window. An hour later she was level with a new valve. That was in October. In January she is still level. Thank you Eddie.

Next it was time to figure out why the generator had to be started with the booster switch. When we had it in the shop at Guaranty one of the things that they did (and charged us up the ying yang for) was to check the batteries. There are ten of them, eight house batteries and two chassis batteries. They said that they were corroded so they took them out, cleaned them up, painted the tray that they sit in and reinstalled them. Eddie decided to check on their work. He took his battery tester and put it on each of the batteries in the tray. He turned to John who was hovering over his shoulder. "Here. I want you to test them yourself." John took the battery tester and registered almost nothing...on all TEN batteries. They were shot. "That's why your generator isn't turning over," Eddie said. So they had to call their battery guy and have ten batteries delivered and installed. The clock was ticking along with my temper not to mention...ka-ching, ka-ching, the bills were stacking up. While they were waiting Eddie pulled the batteries out. John looked at the tray. I was sitting inside with Breezy and Ransom with the windows open (no air conditioning without juice) and heard John say, "The sonsabitches didn't even paint the tray!"

That's when I got the six page Guaranty receipt out of the file and started making notes on each of the supposed fixes. A letter was composing itself in my head. "Dear Guaranty Ripoff Center..." I was more furious about them putting us on the road with ten bad batteries than for charging us for work that never got done, being completely dishonest and idiots on top of it. At the end of the day (nearly 5:00) we handed them our now well used credit card, paid them for the labor and parts and drove away with a slide that worked, ten good batteries and a level coach. I also resolved to write a letter and send it with the documentation to Guaranty to request a refund of the charges on the items that they lied about. I would get some money out of them if it was the last thing I did on the planet.

So we managed to get through 5:00 traffic on the 101 in Phoenix and arrived at West World ready for dinner and a glass of wine. We set up (all slides worked) and met Tim and Jeanne who were settled in and ready to go to dinner. We went to our favorite haunt in Scottsdale, Earl's for a nice dinner. It's a cool restaurant with a great patio and an eclectic menu that is five minutes from West World. Earl's has done well by us in the last two years.

Mary and Arcuri's coach at West World

Really tired from the trip and time at RV Renovators we turned in early. When we travel at higher elevations the air bed changes to higher settings. If you are really high (and we have been at times) the elevation can pop the mattresses so I'm pretty diligent about checking them. I didn't think we went that high on our way into Scottsdale so I hadn't checked them during the day. This king sleep number bed has dual controls and they go from zero (flat) to 100 (like sleeping on a slab of granite). I got into bed and my setting was on 100. I grabbed the control unit and punched the button to move it back to 50 (my sleep number) but nothing happened. It didn't even light up. John came in and pulled the covers back to get in the bed when he saw the look of total exasperation on my face. "What's wrong?" he asked. "The controller is dead," I said. His response was a huge sigh. I said, "Never mind. We are too tired to figure this out tonight." So we slept (sort of). I think I would have been more comfortable on the dining table.

The next morning after breakfast we tackled the problem. John propped the bed up again and we looked at the new motor. It looked odd to me that there was a shaft sticking out of the thing that extended a good six inches beyond the motor itself. Nothing about that extension served a purpose. The plug for the mattress compressor was pulled out and lying on the floor next to the new motor. I picked it up and looked at it. The plug end was all bent. We discussed all of this and then John plugged it back in and we put the bed back together. John picked up the control and it was working. We decided to test the slide. We ran it in. The lights went out on the controllers again. Many expletives later we had the bed back up and were looking at the plug lying on the floor again. Then it dawned on both of us at the same time. The shaft coming out of the motor was knocking the plug out of the socket when we opened or closed the slide. Apparently this wasn't exactly the same motor that was in there before and when they were at RV Renovators they tested the slide but none of us considered that the controllers wouldn't work. So we brainstormed for fifteen minutes before John came to the conclusion that the simplest answer was to buy a hack saw and cut the shaft down to a size that would allow enough clearance to leave the plug in the socket.

"A hacksaw?"

He had that crazed "Tim The Tool Man Taylor" look on his face. There was no arguing.

In the short time that we had been at West World Tim had made at least ten trips to Home Depot for barn stuff and coach stuff. He loves Home Depot. John would call him and say, "Where are you?" He would hang up after a short conversation and say, "Tim's at Home Depot." My answer was always the same, "Again?" So he called Tim and explained what we figured out and Tim suggested that we all go to lunch (he also can eat more than 50 people and never gain an ounce) and then go to Home Depot for a hack saw. Over lunch Tim told John that he had to get a BIG hack saw so that he didn't hurt himself while sawing the half inch rod in two. John's eyes lit up. So off to Home Depot we went. Jeanne and I stayed in the car while the guys gleefully trotted off to the store. Fifteen minutes later they came back and John had the single most expensive, hugest hack saw that exists in the tool world. I just smiled and shrugged. "John The Tool Man Jones," I said to myself.

We got back to the coach and John commenced his project. He propped the bed up picked up his hack saw and in five short strokes the rod was cut in two. He put the bed back together and emerged from the bedroom triumphant. It took less than five minutes total. And it worked. The slide moves in and out without tearing the compressor plug out of the socket. And we both slept like dogs for the rest of the trip.

Early morning shot of West World

Next time I'll get into our trip back home. You would think after our lengthy list of repairs (and $$$$$$) along the road both out to Oregon and to Scottsdale that we good to go for the next two years. Not so. I'm happy to report that Mary is spending the winter in a large storage garage in Lexington and that as far as we can tell she is in perfect running order for our next adventure.

I hope your New Year is full of health, happiness and prosperity!

Of Mice and Men and Women

Okay. So I hate mice. A lifetime of working in barns and living in climates that drive mice indoors in the fall has left me with a near phobia of creatures that dash across the floor at the speed of light and without fail end up under the stove or refrigerator in the kitchen...conscious-less critters that seek only to terrorize, eat and poop. The only critters that I fear more are their super sized cousins, rats and the Godzilla of all rats, opossums.


Before I get on with the saga of rodent control in Mary I have to tell you a story that just jumped out of my memory bank. Several years back I took a major detour in career and decided to become a hair dresser. I met so many nice people and had so many fun experiences and a few not so fun ones. I probably could write a book about the things that happen when you stand behind the chair for a living but this one is a standout.


It was 1993. I had just begun my career and I was working for Jana, a really nice woman who owned a small three chair salon in St. Helens, Oregon, an old dying mill town that sits on the Columbia River and has a perfect view of Mt. St. Helens in Washington. The salon was at the far end of the downtown core. She also had a manicurist, Jackie who worked three days a week. It was August and the afternoon temperatures had been pushing to the mid-nineties all week. The little salon did not have air conditioning so we would prop open the front door and the back door to keep air circulating. If you stood in the front door you would look over a roll top desk into the salon area and from there into the back room where there was a washer and dryer, sink and storage for our supplies. It was a straight line of sight from the front door to the back door and probably only 25 feet or so.















View of Mt. St. Helens from Oregon


On a sweltering afternoon I had a break in my schedule so I went downtown to get a birthday gift for my sister. When I returned I parked outside on the street so I walked into the front of the salon. Jana was getting her nails done and she and Jackie were gabbing. I got to the front of the roll top desk when something caught my eye in the back room. The door was open in the back so it was well lit. The voice in my head whispered "rat". The hair stood up on my arms. "Ah...ah...ah..." I stuttered as both Jackie and Jana looked at me with puzzled expresions.
Apparently I had lost all color in my face and my eyes were standing out of my head. My brain replayed what I saw, a King Kong dark brown mouse...no a ra-ra-rat had just danced across the floor of the supply room. "RAT!" I screamed and before I knew what I was doing I was standing on the deck of the roll top desk with my little gift bag in my hand. Jackie jumped on her manicurist chair and Jana jumped into action. I was stunned to watch her march into the supply room and slam the door that separated the salon from the back room. Jackie and I looked at each other in complete and utter terror. We heard crashing and banging in the back room. Then it went quiet. The door opened and Jana came out with a broom in her hand. "He ran under the supply cabinet and I can't get him out," she said in a very calm tone. I was thinking that this was the bravest woman I ever met. In a quivering voice Jackie said, "I'll call Brad." That was her boyfriend. Inside of 20 minutes Brad arrived to save the day. He chased the filthy rodent out of the supply room and we all sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. It was quiet for a minute and then I said, "Does anyone find it odd that a rat showed up in the middle of the afternoon on a sunny day and decided to take refuge in a salon with no air conditioning?" We all looked at each other with blank expressions.


I went home that night and recounted my story to my ex who said, "I hope it wasn't rabid or something." Multiply a large number of those thoughtful sentiments by 13 years and you'll understand why he is my ex. I spent the night tossing and turning and having RABID RAT nightmares. The next morning I went to work.
















View of historic hotel in St. Helens


I had a 9:00 frost and haircut to do on a client who was Jana's best friend Jill (Jana didn't do color). Jill arrived and I draped her in a dark purple cape. She was eating a cup of vanilla frozen yogurt for breakfast. I put her frosting cap on and started pulling strands of hair through the cap with a crochet hook until she looked like a big purple cactus (frosts are not a pretty thing when you are doing them).


Jana came in and decided that it was getting too warm so she propped the front door open. I thought is was getting too warm too but given the events of the prior day I was willing to sweat it out. The waiting area which was situated by a large window in the front of the salon was full of white wicker furniture and was visible from where I was standing. Jana was on the phone at the desk while I was busy chatting with Jill when out of the corner of my eye I saw a rat run past the desk, make a hard left under the wicker couch and then ran the perimeter of the salon finally dashing into the back room. This happened so fast (and at the same time in slow motion) that I barely had time to register my disbelief in my what my eyes were seeing. I remember thinking that I was still asleep in my bed and this was part of my succession of "Willard" nightmares. Not possible my mind screamed as I recorded the vision of the hugest rat I had ever seen. Of course it was the only the second rat (in less than 24 hours) I had ever seen in person which probably added to the drama of the moment. He had to weigh 30 pounds if he was an ounce and had a tail that was at least 10 feet long. He was demonic gray with shark like beady eyes. And fangs. Big fangs. It's amazing what your mind can create when you are terrorized. Apparently while all of these thoughts were playing out in my head I again screamed "RAT!". I jumped on Jana's salon swivel chair (crochet hook in hand) where I moved around in slow circles trying not to fall off. On one of my trips around I caught a glimpse of Jill. I'll go to my grave with this picture in my head. She was standing on my salon chair (which I had locked so she wasn't spinning), her blond hair standing at attention (sticking out of the frosting cap), purple cape hanging to just below her knees with melted vanilla frozen yogurt streaming down the front of the cape. I think when flight syndrome kicks in still shots are forever emblazoned in your memory.


Okay, so the rat is in the back room and Jill and I are standing catatonic on the chairs. Jana calmly hangs up the phone and then runs to the back room and slams the door BEHIND her. We hear clattering and crashing and then heard the back door slam. Jana walks out and props the broom against the wall. "He's gone," she says. "Are you sure?" Jill and I chimed in unison. "Yeah," she says as Jill and I climb down from our perches. "How can you be so calm?" I asked her. She said, "I had a pet rat when I was a kid." I couldn't stop myself, "Jana, these are not pets. These are wild sewer rats roaming the streets in broad daylight. Something isn't right with this." I truly thought I was living out a horror movie script. With that I got on the phone and called the city of St. Helens. I explained about two rats in two days and asked if there is some reason that rats are roaming the streets. The nice woman said, "Oh yes. They are doing sewer blasting downtown and it is running the rats out of the sewer." I shivered. "Thank you," I said and hung up. The next week at work was pretty tense and very hot because pet rat or not I refused to agree to an open door policy in the salon until the blasting was done. I have not seen another rat since then (there is a God) but I've seen tons of mice.


So after I discovered that there had been a mouse in the drawer in Mary I took a deep breath and started opening drawers and cupboards throughout the galley. This mouse had been everywhere. I filled the sink with blazing hot water and soap, got the spray disinfectant and went to work cleaning and washing everything that was in the drawers and cupboards. This mouse actually ate the end off of the spatula that I used to make scrambled eggs! I declared war. And I needed a comrade to do the tough stuff. John. Two hours later we loaded up and went to the local grocery store and bought four of the old fashioned mouse traps and a jar of peanut butter. We bought two containers of D-Con which I hate because I'm always afraid that a mouse will eat it, go outside and die and a bird will eat the mouse and die. Besides, I hate mice with a purple passion but that stuff is poison and not a quick kill. But I agreed to use D-Con as a last resort. John set two traps (not before tons of snapping traps and cussing) inside of the cupboards and put two in the bays of the coach. He said, "Now what?" I said, "You will need to check your trap line every couple of hours or so." He cracked up. "Trap line?" Oh yes, this is serious business.


Later we were getting ready to go out to dinner. It was about 5:00 and as I was rearranging my hair I heard the trap in one of the cupboards snap. "Got one!" I hollered. John came out of the bathroom. "Where?" he asked. "In the cupboard." He slowly opened the pan cupboard. He closed the door again. "He's still in the throws," he said. "I'll get him out before we leave." The goosebumps made their now now routine trek up and down my arms. One of the bad things about having a mouse in a confined area is that I'm sure I see them dashing EVERYWHERE. I'm constantly jumping out of my shoes because I'm sure I saw one running across the floor. Most often it is my paranoid mind. I sat down with Ransom and we had a talk. "Now I know your heritage is part rat terrier and mice are probably beneath you but if you see one..." Ransom slept through the entire mouse experience.
















Recipient mouse pasture at dusk

John disposed of the dead mouse (my hero), reset the trap and we went to dinner. When we got back I got the dogs and took them for a walk while he checked his trap line. As I as coming back I saw him coming out of the coach with a trap in each hand, dead mouse in each trap. THREE MICE. He jettisoned the mice into the pasture and then pulled the traps out of the bays. Two more dead mice. FIVE MICE. They must have put the word out to the entire mouse population of Springfield! I could see the bulletin: "Calling all mice! There is a giant luxury motor coach located at 37691 Upper Camp Creek Road. It's heated and there is FOOD for the winter. Only two freaked out humans and two lazy dogs. Come one, come all!"


We killed off an entire family of mice that night. The word of the massacre must have spread like wildfire through the mouse community on Camp Creek Road because after the initial five mice we didn't find another mouse in the traps and no sign anywhere close to it. Before we folded our tent and headed for Arizona we had a former employee of Monaco Coach come and help John replace a torn awning, adjust the entry door and work on the air compressor that levels the coach when it is parked. We were satisfied that Mary was fixed. Boy were we in for a surprise.


I have to tackle a list of things to do for Christmas. If all goes well I'll be back soon to fill you in on our adventure to Arizona! I hope the holiday season has been fun for all of you so far! And HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE!!! The days get longer from here! YAY!!!