Mar 31    You know the old saying, "If March comes in like a lamb it goes out like a lion." We found out today how true it is. We were up early and eager to drive down the mountain to Tom Johnson RV, then over to graphic store to have our decal put on the back of the coach. During our breakfast of shredded wheat and sliced strawberries topped with warm milk and a dash of Stevia, we reminisced as to how we had now been at Mountain Stream RV Park for a full month. Remembering how nice the weather had been and how well everything gone that first day of March 1st. I am certain that at this moment neither of us had a thought of that old saying in our heads. We hadn't moved for almost three weeks, so out came the check lists, to be gone over twice, instead of only once as we normally would. Everything was going smoothly as I sat down in seat to start the big Cummins diesel engine so it could warm up to operating temperature before we pulled out. That was when March changed from a lamb into a lion. 

I inserted the key and turned it to the pre-start position. Strange, I thought, no dash lights or sounds. Maybe it's been so longsince I started it that I just forgot to turn it far enough. More turning of the key. Nothing. That was when the adrenalin kicked in big time. Two or three turns of the key in rapid succession brought my heart rate ever higher. Time seemed to stand still as I slowly got out of the seat, stood, and turned toward Linda. "We have a problem.", is all I said. She looked at me quizzically for a second, saw the key in my hand and very matter of factly stated, "It won't start, will it." Now reflect on the words, won't start,  for a moment. To me won't start didn't begin to describe the problem we had. My concept of, won't start, implies it does something, but the result is the engine doesn't continue to run. You know, dials move, the starter grinds, the engines fires but doesn't keep running, something at least happens. Won't start, wasn't the problem. Dead as a door nail more aptly described the situation. Of course my response was all wrong as usual, but I said it anyway, "I knew your playing the radio all the time was going to run the battery down." Why couldn't I have said something like, "When I turn the key nothing happens." Which is exactly what I blurted out before taking another breath. I think the term is, 'digging the hole, climbing in and shoveling it all over yourself.' 

In hindsight, I think Linda was too shocked by the idea the engine wouldn't start to hear what I said. Anyway, she asked, "Are you sure you turned the key all the way?" A brief conversation ensued that resulted in my going outside and looking at the headlights. No head lights, nothing. Then we remebered the "Battery Boost" switch. As explained to us during our walk through and as we knew from our previous RV, this is one of those 'good' switches. It ties all the batteries together when one set is low to give you the voltage you need. In our previous RV, it made a very audible click sound when it engaged. We pushed the switch, no sound, ah this is one of those big diesel motor homes, everything is in the back, so no sound, I thought. With all the confidence of the perennial bench warmer called upon to quarterback the "big" game, I turned the key as I held the switch down. Nothing, nada, zip. 

Think I was worried before, now I was really worried. What to do? Was there enough battery to start the generator? If so then maybe the engine would start. Never mind that we we were hooked up to shore power. That the generator starts off the coach batteries. We're talking pressure here. Major league pressure. At least I had the presence of mind to unhook the shore power before trying to start the generator, smile, though the energy management system should have taken care of it. Push the switch and nothing happens. Deep breath, collect wits, pause, think. Push battery boost and push generator switch. Nothing. Think hard. Long time since we started the generator, suddenly remember switch goes two ways. Down to prime, up to start. Think, well it sure ought to start since I primed it twice, smile, if I now push up on the switch. Sounds! Sounds! Sounds! The generator is cranking. Tries to start, fires a couple of times, doesn't catch. Stop, deep breath. Think. Okay, no battery boost, that's okay, almost started, lets try it again. Once more, no battery boost, down to prime, light on, up to start, cranks, sputters, starts, whoopee!!!! I got something to run, the day is looking better. Let the generator run for about 10 minutes, everything looks good. Try key, nothing, try battery boost, nothing. Bummer and double bummer. 

Since the cell phone doesn't work in these mountains we have to use the phone at the upper end of the park. You can make local and 800 number calls, so Linda gathers up the phone number for the Monaco tech line and our coach number and goes over to make a call. This way I can serve as the 'gofor' in case they tell us to try something. The call is  a brief conversation that includes some eye rolling by Linda and the call is completed. She was not on the line to a service tech,  just the person that answers the phone. She is told to call back in about ten minutes.  Said it was interesting because the first question they asked her was, "Are you safe?" Wanted to know if we were on the road or off it in a safe place. Guess that means our problem could have been a lot worse. We go back to the coach, I get out the coach manual and start looking for the magic elixir. Don't find it, but looking for it kills the ten minutes. 

Back to the phone we go. This time Linda is put on hold for a while until a tech becomes available. She starts speaking and from her smile I can tell it's a real live person, one who may know something. Hear her say we had pushed the battery boost switch and nothing happens. Lots of okay's on Linda's end. They she asks the persons name in case it doesn't work, whatever it, is. Mike is his name plus she gets his extension number. 

As we return to the coach she tells me he said to push and hold the battery boost switch down for a minute before trying to start the engine, that gives it enough time to charge the batteries. Doesn't really sound reasonable, but then a drowning man will even grab at a straw. I push and hold the button, Linda stands behind me staring intently at her watch. Finally she says it's time. Reluctantly I let up on the switch and slowly reach for the key. It was almost as if I didn't want to turn it. Finally my fingers came in contact with the key. Slowly very it turns. Dead silence. Try once again, nothing. Think maybe if I hold down the switch and turn the key it will work. Same dread, same result. 

I look toward Linda and see her already heading for the door. Another conversation with Mike the tech. They will dispatch a truck to get us started. Linda is to call back in ten mutes to confirm a truck is on its way. Decide to call Tom Johnson RV to let them know we will be late. Linda hangs up without saying anything. It was an answering machine and believe me, even though we have used an answering machine for years, she wont talk to one, smile. Suggest it might be a good idea to leave a message, that way we may still be able to take the coach down today. She makes the call. The ten minutes is up, once again it's time to call Monaco. Yes a truck has been dispatched, should be there within a half hour. By now it's after 8AM, so call Tom Johnson RV again. No problem, bring it down as soon as you can they say. If it's going to be a while give us a call before you leave. 

Walk back to the coach, look out window and see a red truck circling the park road. Know it doesn't belong to a camper, maybe it's the service truck. Indeed it is. Truck stops and we meet Ray who works for H&A Towing in Marion. Right off we like Ray, a big man with a jovial laugh and a confident manner. He asks a couple of questions, asks me to try to start it, nothing, try the battery boost, nothing. 

Goes to his truck and gets a rather large battery charger and then a small generator. Hooks it up. Batteries are dead, very dead, Starts generator, plugs in battery charger, connects cables, says now try it. Nothing, not even a tiny peep.

Touches hand to chin. Tells us our battery is very dead. Lets it charge for a while, says now we're getting something. Shows me the meter on the charger, has a small flicker. At least life hasn't been extinguished yet. I notice the yellow marker lights on the side of the coach are flashing. More signs of life. Ray says try it again. Turn the key, lights light, buzzers buzz, jacks retract, lights blink and blink and blink. All this noise is supposed to stop. Why isn't it stopping? Decide to turn key anyway. Nothing, no engine sounds, just the blinking lights and raucous sounds. Ray says, well he will just put the jumper cables on and connect the engine batteries and the house batteries together. I watch as he  attaches the jumper cables. I think, isn't that what the battery boost switch is supposed to do? Ray says now it should start. I go back into the coach and with a deep breath turn the key. As before  there are lights alight and buzzers buzzing, lots of blinking more blinking. Acts the same as before, why isn't to stopping? Decide to turn key anyway and again nothing happens. 

Ray comes up front, says there is one more thing to try and if doesn't work we've got a real problem. This is what you call the good news, bad news statement, lol. Figure I'm going to let the man alone as whatever it is, it is better to make sure he has his full attention on what he's doing. Sit down at the computer and start writing even though I really don't feel like it. Time was once again standing still. Ray came back to the coach and instead of asking me to start the engine, quickly sat in the seat and turned the key, Engine sounds, engine sounds, not just a starter cranking, the roar of a big 400 HP diesel, hooray, hooray with peanut butter, chocolate and sugar frosting on it. 

Before I can even ask Ray how he did it, he's out of seat and down the steps. Later he explains he used the 60 amp boost and it can only be on for a minute at the very most. "Let it run for a while and you should have no problem driving down the hill", he says, Adding "It would be best if you don't turn the engine off until you get to Tom Johnson's". Everything is working, we sign the papers he has and he leaves. 

Suddenly Linda sends our joy crashing to the ground. "We can't bring the slides in with the engine running.", she says, not too calmly, but at least she wasn't yelling, smile. I see Ray's truck down near the pavilion. Maybe I can catch him . "No you can't" she says, "he's gone." Now I'm no Jessie Ownens or Bob Hay's and I'm certainly not one of the drugged up sprinters of today that pretend to follow in Jessie and Bob's footsteps, but over the next few seconds there was one posed man running down the road after that truck. Reflecting back, there I was running at full speed, waving my arms and yelling and never missing a step. You just don't know what you can do until you absolutely must do it. Just before turning onto the highway the truck slowed and I was able to catch up with him. Turns out that he had lust overheard on his scanner that the house next to his was on fire which was why he stopped. We talked for a moment, I said if he wanted go check on his house I would just see what would happen when we turned off the engine. He insisted on coming back to the coach. Quickly we retracted the slides  and resolutely turned the key The engine started right up, but as it did,  suddenly there is a loud blast from the air horn. My hand turns the key off so fast it practically smokes, smile. That's all we need, to have the air horn blaring away in the morning I was thinking. Once again Linda came to the rescue, "It's so happy, it's tooting its own horn.", she says. I had to laugh and the tension of the past couple of hours was swept away. 

As Ray was getting ready to leave again, the scanner started squawking its unintelligible sounds. He put it close to his face, listened, then smiled and said, "Good news, it wasn't the house next to mine. It was an old trailer down the road a ways." Maybe things are looking up all around, I thought. Linda went over and called Tom Johnson RV again to let them know we would soon be on our way. I drove very slowly down the mountain. An uneventful trip except when I was rounding the sharpest blind corner of the trip, the thought hit me, sure hope I don't meet a truck here. The thought was still dangling at the edge of my mind when I caught a glimpse of a huge blue logging truck coming at me. Several less than happy seconds later it was past. Guess this day was still not done acting like a lion, smile. As we came up to the light at Rt-80 and 70, there were construction vehicles everywhere. There were flagmen stopping traffic, there were very, very long lines of vehicles backed up in both directions. However luck was with us. Just as they allowed traffic to pass in the direction of Tom Johnson RV, the light changed allowing us through. Not all things are going against us I thought, of course at that same moment we came upon the entrance to Tom Johnson's. 

There are two entrances, the first one is a straight shot into the sales lot and back to the service area. The second requires you to make a sharp right turn, go through the congested front car parking lot, then make a sharp left turn in order to go back to the service area. They were working in front of one of the two entrances. You can guess which one. The March lion was striking again. Now, not only did I have to turn into the difficult drive, there was also a dually pickup coming right down the center of it. I did what anybody driving a 38' long 33,000 pound RV would do. I turned in. The pickup quickly started backing up and gave me plenty of room. That was a lesson remembered from the RV driving school. Sometimes you just have to "impose your will." Soon I was safely parked in the service area. As we entered the service area office, everyone, and I mean everyone was smiling or laughing and saying , "Well, you made it", or something to that effect. Went over what was on the list we had brought, they wrote up the service order, we spent some time in their store area, spent some money on holding tank chemicals, checked on the coach and left for a while. 

Went to the Walmart to get wrapping paper for the presents we had bought last week. The wind was really blowing as we drove to the back of the parking lot. Time to wrap presents. Parked the Explorer so we were somewhat in the lee of the wind, which was now blowing so hard I had to hold the door open so Linda could wrap. The paper was blowing all over the place, she was getting more and more upset. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Finally she did. She had left her window down and the wind was roaring in through it. Her tone as she told me to close the window carried the impication it was my fault it was open. Who can understand women? I did do one thing right. Instead of pointing out that if she'd have bought the wrapping paper last week when she bought the presents, (you know where I'm going) I just kept my mouth shut, smile.

Eventually the gifts were wrapped, we made a quick stop at Subway for turkey on whole wheat and baked chips, then to the Post Office, next, groceries and soon we were on our way back to Tom Johnsons. They were still working on our coach, so naturally we looked at the coaches they had for sale. It once again confirmed our lengthy shopping experience and our conclusion that the Endeavor was the coach that best fit our needs and budget. In amongst all this we spent a good bit of time talking to the techs who had worked on our coach. Turns out there is no battery maintainer on the Endeavor, so if it sits long enough the battery will slowly run down. Second, the battery boost switch did not tie all the batteries together. When the fuse for the battery boost circut had been installed at the factory, the fuse had twisted slightly and the bottom prong had not made contact with the fuse holder. This meant we had an open circut, the same as a blown fuse. It worked perfectly now. I thought how stupid it was that one moments inattention at the factory caused Monaco to pay for the service truck call and the work to fix the problem. We felt comfortable they had taken care of our problems. They had been unable to fix the closet latch and had to order another one. The cheap plastic ones keep breaking and have been replaced with a metal latch. They would order it, so we also scheduled a transmission fluid change for the 17th. 

Even though it was getting late we decided to stop by the graphics store and get the decal put on. Linda called before we left and they said come on down. We get there and the fellow who does the installations is out. The lion strikes again. The girl was very apologetic and other than our being disappointed and the need to come come back down again, no harm was done.

The drive back to the park was slow and uneventful. But did we have a pleasant suprise when we arrived back at the park, Roscoe and Carol, the other work camper coupler had arrived. I teased Becky about us taking a workday off so they had fired and replaced us, lol. Dessert was peach cobbler warmed in the microwave and topped with ice cream. As I scrapped the bottom of the bowl, I decided maybe March had gone out like a lamb after all.  

Mar 30   Was I mistaken yesterday about birds everywhere. Today we had finch overload at the feeders. All the perches on the finch feeder were full. Finches hanging from the wires that fasten the feeders to the branches, finches perched in the tree, guess you could say there were finches here, finches there, finches everywhere, even finches in the air. We witnessed arial combat taking place. When an airborne finch tried to displace a perched finch, both would suddenly be in the air wings fluttering, skittering with thrusts and parrys like two dueling swordsmen. The males are definitely molting, their bright yellow colors becoming more apparent by the day. As we watch the "dog fights" take place we notice the perched bird often has no yellow showing indicative of its being a female, while the airborne intruder has the bright yellow coloration of the males. After a few brief, but furious seconds, the clash is over and a bird is once again occupying the momentarily vacate perch. Linda is always quick to point out that it is a female who invariably alights on the perch. Guess it is true that while men may strut their stuff, the woman rules the roost, smile.

After a breakfast of oatmeal, smile, we cleaned up around the coach, at least Linda did, I worked on the web page, then gathered up our gloves to start our work half day. The morning sky was cloudy but the air was still, so it looked like today would be spent killing vegetation. We got the equipment shed open when Becky came up and said we'd better check with Ron before spraying. It was becoming obvious there is more to this spraying business than meets the eye. Sometime later, after checking the weather report and giving us more instructions on the potential pitfalls that can befall the untrained or inexperienced applicator, we made ready to attack those pesky weeds, stories of past work campers experiences with this powerful herbicide fresh in our memories. Like the couple that didn't pay attention to the warning about not walking on the areas where they sprayed herbicide. This stuff is so powerful that even the slightest amount on the sole of your shoes will kill whatever it touches dead, as in dead dead for four years, thats potent in my book. Anyway, this couple ignored what Ron told them about how potent it was.  And of course it took a few days for what they had done to show up. Bet you've already guessed what happened, yep, everywhere they had walked on the grassy areas was a perfect set of brown grass footprints. Now it's bad enough to walk all around the edges of where you're spraying, even the short cut you take from one area to the next shows up, lol. 

I decided there was only one sure way to make absolutely, positively certain that I didn't track any of that stuff somewhere it wasn't supposed to be. I drove the golf cart and let Linda spray that menace to any living plant, herbicide, smile. That deadly liquid is contained in a plastic tank that permanently rides in the back of The Sound & the Fury. Now TS&TF is technically a former golf cart, but today we could nickname it, "The Engine of Death" or Ted for short, lol. This was a learn as you go project. Since we weren't told how to do it, just how not to do it, we figured what the heck, anything else we do must be okay. Anyone who's followed us during our brief work camper sojourn knows when I think left, Linda usually thinks right and when Linda thinks left, I'm usually daydreaming and don't have a clue what to do, smile. Right off the bat we've got a problem. Seems we have the trailer hooked up to "Ted" and don't think to unhitch it. We start out to spray. Since I'm driving and we're not the world's greatest experts in murdering vegetation (Actually Linda has much more experience than I, as she was known as 'The Roundup Lady' at our house, often standing somewhere in the flower garden with the bottle of Roundup® clutched in her hand, fingers vigorously squeezing the trigger, dealing death to unwanted plants, while yours truly was safely ensconced in the house, daring to venture out only to snap a quick picture then quickly scuttling back to safety before being enveloped in a poisonous cloud, lol. And me a chemist by training, double lol.) we wanted to start out of site of the office. That way Ron could only wonder if we were doing it wrong, but if we had started down by the office he would know we were doing it wrong. No sense in giving him apoplexy if we don't have to, smile. After doing a couple of sites I was scowling and Linda was frustrated when we realized it wasn't us, it was the stupid trailer. I couldn't pull far enough into the site to let her reach all the areas with the hose. Right there we unhitched the trailer and left it. Now the job became much easier I'd pull into a site and she'd spray in front of me and then try to keep me from running over the hose as I backed out as she sprayed. Once again I was scowling, smile, as she seemed to miss about half of the vegetation. Our task as outlined by Ron was to spray anything that grew in the white gravel. I was beginning to think maybe she was colorblind, no that couldn't be it, maybe she was just blind, why can't she see all the plants she's missing? Several cryptic comments and gestures pointing out missed area only exacerbated the situation. To say we were a little tense was an understatement. Then I finally got to thinking, maybe she's just as uptight over this as I am. She's got the hardest part trying to spray but not let the spray drift and kill something it shouldn't. Work with her, dummy. I start backing all the way into the site to begin with, this makes it so I can't drive over the hose. We do one side then back into the other side of the pad and do it. We are now working together, what a change. almost before we knew it we were all the way around the outside of the park. Only the inside was left when we ran out of the Roundup. 

We go to check with Ron to get some more concentrate to mix up and he was out.  Becky shows us how to use the Ros2000, the computer reservation system they and many other parks have. As we are working on the system a really nice 40' Foretravel motor home pulling a toad drives in. When Ron returns he discovers  he is out of the type of vegetation killer we were using so gave us a broad leaf weed killer. We look at each other, shrug our shoulders and go out to mix it with water in the tank. we realize one of the site they may assign to the motor home is one of the sites we have been watering. We gather up all the hoses just before the motor home comes up and starts to park near the site we just removed the hose from. Made us feel good, maybe we are starting to think the right way, smile. By the time we got the solution mixed the wind had come up and we could no longer spray. Ron had come back with the pickup loaded with soil (yes actual soil, not dirt that needed to be sifted) so we filled in a number of low spots in the center grass area. It was shovel, shovel, shovel, stomp, stomp, stomp, rake, rake, rake and repeat the process. Linda found my imitation of a vibratory roller so hilarious she took a photo of me doing my dance. Before we knew it, it was time to call it a day. 

Spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the coach in preparation of taking it down to Tom Johnson's RV in Marion tomorrow to get some warranty work done. As we were cleaning we saw Ron using the tractor and roller to do more of the same thing we were doing. Obviously we've still got some learning to do, as using the roller would make the job so much easier, oh well, we got some good exercise, smile. 

Looking out at the bird feed we saw a finch and cardinal perched in the tree above the feeder. Truly a Kodak moment. Dinner was Salmon Patties on whole wheat bread, and excellent meal that still adhered to the principles of the South Beach Diet we have followed for nearly a year now. (80 pounds lost between the two of us, equally divided and kept off, smile). Later it was relaxing with TV for Linda while I worked on the website. However, Linda wasn't done for the day. last night we had eaten the last of the soft chocolate chip cookies, so it was time to cook dessert. Always thinking ahead, at least when it comes to dessert, we had bought some peaches during our last trip to the grocery. This meant that the coach would soon be filled with the smell of fresh baked, healthy, peach cobbler. Cobbler to die for! Later, as we ate it still warm from the convection/microwave oven, smothered in butter pecan ice cream, the smacking of lips and screech of spoons scraping bowls clean was heard.   

Mar 29    Something new this morning. Birds everywhere. Birds at the feeders, Birds on the ground under the feeders. There were even wild turkeys in the meadow across the stream. Even saw a new species we had not seen before, a solitary purple finch. He stopped at the finch feeder and feasted on nijer thistle for a while. When something frightened the birds and they all flew away, the goldfinches quickly returned. We never saw the purple finch again. While all this activity was taking place up at the feeders, on the ground, the pair of doves who are regular morning visitors  worked at cleaning the area under the feeders. There seems to be something here for each and every bird.

As I watched a movement caught my eye, it was Ron in one of the sites at the upper end of the campground. At first I thought he was watching the wild turkeys across the stream, but that was not it. He got back into the truck and slowly drove past a couple more sites, again stopping and walking toward the end of the site. This behavior was repeated several more times and as the truck approached our site my curiosity got the best of me.  Turns out he had ordered the fresh gravel to be delivered to the park this morning and he was checking which sites needed additional gravel. Before long the truck drove in and fresh white gravel was appearing on various sections of the park roads and sites. The driver spread most of the gravel while backing or driving forward depending on the location. When he left to get another load, Ron used the garden tractor with the blade to do the final spreading. It was obvious from watching, this was not the first time this particular job had been done.

We later found out they dress the gravel several times a year, usually in the early spring and again in mid-summer in order to keep the park looking sharp. Ron and Becky are rightfully proud of Mountain Stream RV Park and as they proclaim, roads and pads are white stone, all other areas are either flowers and plants in beds or grass so there is 'no mud after rain'. As we watched through the coach windows we could see the splash of white stone as it bounced and rolled into the grass along the roads and pads. This is where attitude comes into play.

One point of view says this will mean 'stoop labor' to pick all the rocks up and the possibility of an aching back. The other point of view looks at the job and sees the great exercise we're going to get, all that bending is like doing "crunches", our stomach muscles will be strengthened meaning our backs will not be nearly as likely to hurt in the future. Attitude, one can be an optimist or one can be like this. If you have never been to the despair.com website you're in for a treat, here's the link. There are also a number of powerpoint presentations that have been floating around the net for years based on these posters. A search should turn them up.

Only too soon our oatmeal had been both savored as well as consumed, so we two intrepid work campers were heading toward the equipment shed. Just as we got there Ron came up. The man has a twinkle in his eye at times and as he neared I could see it, plus the huge grin that emanates from the corner of his mouth and spread completely across his face. I was definitely getting an inkling there was something other than spraying vegetation killer in store for us today. Quickly we learned our fate.

Yes, it was too windy to spray and it would be put off until tomorrow or later depending on the co-operation of the weather. Yes, we needed to finish raking and seeding the corner sites. But, and it was a big but, the little tractor with the blade could only do so much when it came to smoothing the gravel. What was required was hand work wit rake and shovel. No wonder he had a twinkle in his eye. He knows how much we love the exercise we get from hard physical work and he had job we would really enjoy for us today.

We loaded the trailer up with rakes, lime, fertilizer, grass seed and other assorted implements and attacked the thatch in the corner sites. We soon settled into a routine. I raked and Linda picked up and disposed of the debris. We used the spreader for the lime until the wheel fell off (the cotter pin had rusted through), then spread a very light dressing of 10-10-10 fertilizer and a 50/50 blend of annual rye grass and Kentucky Fescue by hand. Next we drove back and got three water hoses and sprinklers which we set up to water the majority of the five areas we had just seeded. Linda's precise placement of the sprinkles was a masterpiece of watering efficiency.

Next it was time to unload all the seed fertilizer, etc and load the shovels and rakes so we could attack the stone piles. At first several sites we need to simply rake the gravel in order to make it both uniform in thickness and as level as possible. This took little time and presently we were parked in front of our first rock pile to be moved. I can assure you no king about to lay siege to a castle ever studied his objective with more intensity than we did this pile of rock. I'll grant you it may have been only 8 foot wide and one foot high, but to us it was more than a pile of rock, it was exercise. We just wanted to make sure we exercised our arms, legs and lungs rather than our backs, smile. We each shoveled a while and raked a while, breaking in our muscles without breaking our backs. It soon became apparent I was much better suited to shoveling rock (something that my former co-works will attest is an absolute truism) while Linda raked with an easy stroke that quickly level significant mounds of rock, yet didn't wear her out. Needing to move the rock further than was easy to reach with the shovel, we brought the wheelbarrow into play. I loaded, pushed and dumped while Linda raked. If we had been constructed of metal we would have been a well oiled, highly efficient machine. As it was, we were two aging boomers, well, technically one very attractive boomer and an older guy who was born during the war, getting some exercise on a beautiful spring morning in the North Carolina mountains.  As I said earlier, this is where attitude comes into play. Soon we had all the piles spread but we still had a good sized area to cover with gravel.

One of the loads of rock had been dumped in the stock area so we could use it to fill in as needed. How could we get it to where we would need it? The obvious choice was to shovel this rock into the trailer, then use the garden tractor to pull it. Except the blade was still attached to the tractor. It would be a simple matter pull a couple of pins and drop the blade. Except we did not know if Ron was having more rock delivered and so would need the blade. Except that the only alternative was to use The Sound and the Fury. Looking up, we saw it there before us, patiently waiting, ready to do whatever was asked of it. Talk about a pleasant surprise. We emptied the trailer and drove over to the rock pile. No backfiring, no bursts of energy followed by coughing and sputtering, no flying gravel from a jack rabbit start. It was like the wild beast knew it was being asked to do the job of a Clydesdale singlehandedly pulling the Budweiser wagon! Almost before we knew it we had a trailer load of rock where we needed it. Now the question arose of how to unload it. I shoveled it out, but not happily. Within minutes we were back with another load. Linda came to the rescue. She suggested we dump the load, after all it was a dump trailer. We pull the latch and it slowly tips, gravel piling up, but about 4/5ths of the load remains in the trailer. What to do now? Linda again came to the rescue, brains and beauty what a combination, by suggesting we just drive forward and maybe the rock would just spread out the back. I didn't hesitate a second knowing TS&TF would pull the load. It worked like magic and soon we were done for the day. Unhitched TS&TF reverted to its old self, but it sure had earned the opportunity to show its wild side.

The rest of the day passed quickly, work on the webpage, then a tasty meal at Pleasant Garden Baptist. Tonight it was country fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans and angel food cake topped with canned peaches. Delicious, filling and eaten with good company. Later back at the coach we called a halt to tweaking the new homepage and converted over. We will be making some more changes, but rather than attempt to achieve perfection out of the gate, we decided to put it in place and add to it as we are able. Of course we still had to eat our dessert which was the last of the soft chocolate chip cookies with a side of butter pecan ice cream. All in all it was one of our best days yet.

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Mar 28    Not all days are exciting. They are not all some grand adventure. Some are simply filled with the profusion of small incidents which make up life. That's what today was. Breakfast, work, lunch, website, dinner, TV and dessert. It's almost as if the excitement of the weekend, all the RV's, all the people, all the activity, plus the trip to Spruce Pine culminated in an overload of our perception of life. Today didn't 'burst' to life astride an iceberg like yesterday, nor did it announce the onrush of spring with warm temperatures. It was 36º when I got up, partly cloudy with a few birds at the feeder. Like I said, it just was.

Breakfast would be oatmeal again since we again had fresh strawberries. For some time now we have been using the "old fashioned" style of oatmeal because we have been unable to find "thick" oatmeal. While we are not experts on the subject of either oats, the grain, or groats, the hulled oats that we eat, we do have the sum of no small amount of experience on this subject. Over the years we have eaten a fair number of different types of oatmeal, the oatmeal itself and the method of preparation. Ranging from the gray glop that masquerades as oatmeal in most restaurants to the light brown flecked, tan, aromatic, steaming food fit for royalty that we have prepared on a frosty late fall morning in the middle of the wilderness, we've had it all. This is a subject I can spend paragraphs on, smile. Today is not the day however, double smile (and lucky you, more smiles). In a few brief words, my preference is, find the very thickest rolled oats you can (this isn't the mashed garbage Quaker sells as "old fashioned", you want something that was loved and caressed by the rollers, not mangled and mutilated. Oats comes from the field to the mill to the roller to you. It don't need no stinkin' prooocesssing to make it better. Simply said, that's what I like. I know many people , to put it delicately, dislike prepared oatmeal.

Along this line of thought, there is a famous reference in literature to oats: 
Dr. Samuel Johnson who wrote the first universally accepted dictionary of the English language included this disparaging reference as part of his definition of oats:

A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

 His biographer, James Boswell, a very wise man in his own right, commented:

Which is why England is known for its horses and Scotland for its men

Just a little thought for the day, smile.

And as an aside, the writings of men like Johnson and Boswell are something we are exposed to, however fleetingly during high school, usually in a boring literature class, and is then quickly forgotten for the rest of our lives (but not if you had Mrs. Jones as your teacher, for which I am eternally grateful). A search of the web will turn up their writings which can be a real treat to read in those quiet meditative hours I take and advocate others to take during the day.

Just a short time ago we were talking about what constituted an excellent bowl of oatmeal and look where we are now. That's why I find life so interesting, it's all how you approach it. Soon it was time to figuratively punch the old time clock. We wanted to try starting to work somewhat on the schedule that we will be on when the park starts getting busy. That meant emptying all the ashes from the fire pits today. In jiffy quick order we had The Sound and the Fury hooked up to the trailer, two metal trash cans and both the small and large shovel loaded and were driving up the park road checking fire pits. Today was much easier than the last time.The ashes were not water soaked, the driver of TS&TF stayed close to the fire pits full of ashes and a spirit of co-operation filled the air. The last time had taught us (me in particular) a lesson. We took turns scooping out the ashes, I carried the can from site to site and almost before we knew it the job was done. A side benefit was the fire wood we collected which had been left at several of the campsites. Linda is going to have her fire more than once. Or twice or that matter. Look for more tales of pyro-mom coming soon, smile.

Next we replanted another damaged barrel. As before, there was good soil on top and dirt on the bottom. Getting lazy we used a wheelbarrow to hold the Hosta's and the soil, then dumped the dirt from the barrel onto a tarp. Just to show you we're not perfect we forget get the barrel from the stock area when we brought up the tools. TS&TF speedily (and noisily, smile) carried us on our journey. Then we had the wrong size drill bit but Linda just drilled a couple more holes than before, smart girl. Almost before we knew it we were trying to decide what to do with the remaining Hosta plants. Finally decided to put them up at the far end of the campground by the pump house. In between this we had also checked the bathrooms, which were okay, though we plan to clean them tomorrow. We finished out the day by replacing a rotted landscape timber in the bed next to the bathhouse. Ron had just noticed it. Why we hadn't I don't know because once he showed us where it was, it stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a full length timber so no cutting was necessary, drill and nail. Sounds simple. It wasn't. There were bushes hanging over the spot where the timber went, and the railroad tie we needed to nail it to was the densest, hardest tie we have ever encountered. I ended up using multiple blows from the sledge hammer to drive that piddly little 60d nail as Linda held the bushes back. Anyone watching us would wonder who those incompetents were.

Supper was the last of the spaghetti sauce with Bob Evans sausage. Next came NCIS. We really love that show. The way the writers give reality to the interplay between the main characters is wonderful. Next came the third week of The Unit, to which I'll say it improves each week. We couldn't get all the way through the Amazing Race, which is starting to grow really stale as its just the same thing week after week and fairly predictable. I call it Booooring. So after soft chocolate chip cookies with soft butter Pecan ice cream (anything but boring) we called it a day and turned off the snoozing race. Like I said, nothing special, just a day that was.

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Mar 27    While we slept the ice age moved in. Another 24º morning.  Wasn't expecting it, didn't disconnect the water hookup, puddle of water on ground suggests something is not right. So much for the new super duty brass wye we bought to replace our previous cheap wye. Remember, the one that split apart the last time I forgot to disconnect the water when it got down to 24º that night also. There seems to be a pattern forming here that doesn't look so good. The best solution would be to make Linda in charge of the water hookup. That way when cold weather is predicted she would know and could go out and unhook it. That would stop this broken fitting problem we have. Their might be a small problem in convincing her that this course of action would be in both our best interests, smile. Guess the safe and sane way of handling this problem is for me to disconnect the water any night it is either predicted to be 33º or less, or Linda tells me to disconnect the water. She also suggested a heat tape. Will pass on the heat tape for now. For now my watchword will be (with apologies to Paul Revere), unhook if by night and hookup if by day, smile.

While all this was going on Linda busied herself with fixing breakfast. When I came back into the coach the smell of oatmeal cooking filled the air. This puzzled me because we didn't get any fresh strawberries yesterday at the grocery store. The answer was, there were still some frozen berries in the freezer and we would be eating those on our oatmeal this morning. Actually we eat our oatmeal over the frozen berries as the hot oatmeal then defrosts them. The berries also have some cherries mixed in, so for frozen as opposed to fresh they are very good. That woman can even make frozen food taste great, lucky aren't I?, smile. Just before we were getting ready to leave to go to Spruce Pine, Becky knocked on the door. Tom Johnson's RV was on the phone letting us know all the parts had been received that had been ordered. So it's a go for Friday morning to get some more work done on the coach. Will provide a detailed update of our expectations and the actual experience at that time. Today the good was they called to say the parts were in, the bad was they couldn't find our appointment in their log until I told them the time, date and technician name who was scheduled to do the work. Life ain't always perfect. Let's hope for a bright ray of sunshine on Friday.

The trip to Spruce Pine was uneventful. Well there was the lane closure on Rt-80 for debris removal, then the small herd of deer we saw along the parkway and the beautiful views of the snow covered mountains in the distance aand even snow right along the Parkway. No pictures because we were on a fresh strawberry run, will get some on the return trip. Also noticed more traffic on the Parkway than before. Can only imagine how busy it must be during the vacation season. Our first stop was the SuperCenter and as always, just ahead after the nice lady gives you a cart is the display of fresh strawberries. The ones today looked really good. Though they were large, they were a uniformly deep red color. Just the way we like the larger berries. Now that the berries were in the cart the question was raised, what else did we come for. An electric blanket! So to the back of the store we went. Zipping up and down the bedding aisles, heads swiveling back and forth like NORAD radar antennas at the height of the cold war, lol. But just like the antennas never detected the wave of bombers or missiles that would signal the start of WWIII, our search for the elusive electric blanket was also in vain. Oh well, there is always mail order. Heading back up to the front of the store we stopped at the Easter goodies to get something to send to the grandchildren. We also have birthdays coming up in the family. Some purple things caught our eye, something special for a special little girl!

Our next stop was the laundromat. As before, a visit to the laundromat is a sociologists dream. Today we observed the philosophy of the full washing machine. Another possible name for this approach is - Even when the washer is full it's not full. The last time we were here we used two of the smaller front loaders. Each load cost $2.75. Today she was loaded for bear, walked right up to the jumbo giant $4.75 a load front loader and started stuffing things in. "Don't worry", she says,"it will hold everything." In went sheets, blue jeans, sweaters and sweat suits, shirts, towels and dainties. Her arm resembled the beam on a oil well pump as it went in and out of the washer. When she finished I realized she was as good as her word and everything fit quite easily.

After the soap had been added, the coins inserted and the machine started I noticed the machine beside ours. The clothes in ours were rotating, water was splashing, suds showed. It looked a washing machine washing clothes. Not so the one beside ours. If our was a whirling dervish, this machine was a giant ground sloth. The clothes in this one barely moved. It acted like it was moving in slow motion. I watched for five minutes and only saw the same blue and red pattern through the window. Ours on the other hand, changed constantly as the clothes rotated and tumbled past the window. This machine had been running when we came in. When we started I noticed ours showed more time to the end of the cycle. At the 10 minute mark they showed the same time. When ours stopped the other machine was still running. Is it possible to pack a space to the point that time stands still? How else to explain the phenomenon I had just witnessed.

 I had finished putting the clothes into the dryer and had returned to my observation post, i.e., seat, when a young women came in and opened the door of the time machine. She grabbed the red cloth I had observed for the longest time in the window of her machine and pulled. A small part of an item of clothing appeared. She tugged on it hard and a small bulge appeared in the mass of clothing fastened solidly in the opening left where the door of the machine had been. It was obviously not going to come out of the machine easily. With much tugging, upward, then downward, then repeating the sequence, the blouse was finally freed. The tangled mass showed no hint that an article of clothing had been remove from the machine. She continued to remove one stubborn item after another. One pair of pants even required the addition leverage obtained by planting her foot on the side of the machine. Finally as she repositioned herself to wrest a particularly entangled towel our eyes meet. Her sheepish grin begged a comment. "That's what I call a full load of wash", I casually mentioned. The face slightly reddened and she answered, " My boyfriend filled it. It can hold a lot more than you think. When the clothes get wet there is still a lot of room." I just smiled back realizing she didn't understand that the clothes needed to move around in order for the action of the machine to wash them. The innocence and inexperience of youth. By now she had about one third of the clothes out and the cart was way past full. She took them over to a dryer and as she returned our eyes met again. "From the looks of how hard it is to get the clothes out you should have your boyfriend do it.", I said. "He doesn't like to be seen doing laundry" was the answer. I left her to her task while wondering what other things he thought was woman's work and what kind of life she had to look forward too. Linda was still on the cell phone when the dryer shut off, so I took the clothes out and started folding them. What difference is it whether you do it at home or in public? Maybe the real secret is to think of everything as ours, not mine or hers. Linda returned and help finish folding. We walked out to a beautiful sky and another wonderful day of adventure.

Returning a long the Parkway we saw a rafter of wild turkeys. there were 10 birds in this particular rafter. The big male was in full spread as the females quickly moved off towards the woods. Of course as this happened I was stopping the Explorer as fast as I could. Fumbled with the camera and got in a couple of quick pictures. We are talking some well camouflaged birds here. I took the pictures and have a hard time picking out the turkeys, can you see the ten turkeys in this photo?. This was one of those blink and they are gone deals,  

A couple of miles later we passed the small herd of deer we had seen on the way up the Parkway this morning. So once again I stopped and thinking as quickly I stopped, this time I gave the camera to Linda. The result was you can actually see the animals in her photo's. Of course the fact there are somewhat larger than the turkeys and that they were in a meadow as opposed to being in the woods plus they were standing still browsing as opposed to the turkeys fleeing for cover had nothing to do with her getting a good picture as opposed to my inept attempt at nature photography, smile.

We had the requisite turkey wraps for lunch (we had bought the flat bread wraps we like to use at the SuperCenter, but need to use up the other brand first, bummer), then for dinner we had an old time favorite. It is a spicy but not hot, shrimp creole dish that is easy to fix and makes enough for two meals. Afterward Linda watched TV and worked on the website until it was time for Letterman and a dessert of soft chocolate chip cookies and butter pecan ice cream. The low fat no added sugar ice cream does not freeze as hard as regular ice cream. It is more like soft serve and ends up being a real taste treat.

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Mar 26    Well, it had to happen some day and this was the day. We finally ran out of fresh strawberries. Bummer. This meant scrambled eggs, Canadian Bacon and Toast with jam for breakfast. Tasted great and it was good for us. Think about it: eggs, a little water and some fresh ground four pepper blend mixed together and scrambled in a non stick skillet.  When served, a bit more pepper ground on top plus a shake of red chili pepper flakes for a little kick 'em up for Bob. Linda passes on the red chili pepper flakes. We like to use a peppercorn blend rather than straight black pepper. We also find there is no comparison between fresh ground pepper and the ground black pepper you buy at the store. The four peppercorn blend we buy is composed of black, white, pink and green peppercorns. Besides tasting great it also looks great. Two for the price of one, lol. Canadian Bacon is naturally low fat. We find a very light coat of EVOO helps and gives it an improved flavor. The lower the heat the better to bring out the flavor of both the meat and the olive oil. We prefer it soft, not crisp and find that when it is cooked this way it tastes just as good cool as it does warm. Since one of the electrical appliances we chose not to have in the motor home was a toaster, we improvise a little in order to make toast. We use whole grain bread, very low or no fat and and low sugar with the fiber content always higher than the sugar content.  We put a little I Can't Believe It's Not Butter or a similar spread on both side of the bread and toast it on a medium griddle. When the first side turns golden we turn the bread and toast the other side. The second side takes less time than the first side. The bread is warmer and so is the griddle. This is then topped with sugar free jam. We use our own that we make from fresh fruit and sure-jell sugarless, but also use store bought pure fruit preserves. We only made peach and nectarine jam last year, so for berry we have to buy it. That's not going to be the case this year with us spending September and October in huckleberry and blackberry country, smile.

Breakfast over and seeing as how we were out of quite a few groceries, we decided to go shopping. We knew we were taking a chance because this is North Carolina and many of the store are closed on Sunday. Our first stop was another little country church. But this one was down the mountain. Made an interesting observation. The speech, accent, what have you, of the people in the valley is different from the mountain people that go to the little church across from the RV Park. I could understand everything they said both before and after the service. This church was Carson's Chapel and was a methodist church. First time we'd ever been to a Methodist service. It has been great being exposed to all the different types of services. I would never have guessed there could be such a tremendous variation in how American's approach religion. It's amazing, the ways we can acquire new knowledge. There were about 40 people at the service, they even had a choir. The music was provided by an organ and bass. All this, coupled with old time favorite hymns and the beautiful wood paneled church was pleasing to both the ear and the eye. The minister is a local farmer who also pastor's two churches. In our travels we have heard preachers in churches that had hundreds in attendance that were no where as good as this farmer/preacher. Maybe that's why religion has such a bad name.

Our next stop was the Wal-Mart. We needed some more of their salsa, but also wanted to buy an electric blanket. What, you say, have our two hardened former tent campers be soft RV'ers? Well, it could be, but you know, it's not the climbing into the cold bed that so bad, it's the length of time it takes to warm up the bed after we climb into it, smile. Two comforters really hold the heat in, it just takes our skinny bodies a long time to generate that heat, lol. So we go to the bedding department and look and look, then look some more. No electric blankets to be seen, heck, not even a little old blanket. Nothing but comforters as far as the eye could see. We need a heat source, not insulation!. Finally see a lady in blue and ask, the answer was what we expected, they don't carry them. Man, these are tough people up here in these mountains, lol. Not in a rush to go out into the cold weather, we wandered by the bird food. Bottom line, a 10 lb bag of bird food for our existing feeder. It has very little sunflower seeds and more millet and milo. We'll see which species like this one. Do not think she was done with the birds. A bag of nijer thistle caught her eye and faster than a finch takes flight, the bag of thistle and a finch feeder were in the cart. There are either going to be some well feed birds at site 36 this week or one very disappointed lady. I'll bet on the happy birds, smile.  Leaving Wal-Mart we went by GO, but it was closed. We drove on over to Ingles and got most of what we wanted as well as some more of the same smoked turkey they had on sale last Monday. You gotta go with what's good.

Time to head back up the hill, but with a couple of stops on the way. The Marion area is famous for its rock and stone. We're not talking, minerals or gems, nor are we talking sand and gravel, we're talking building and structural stone. There are quarries and rock yards all around town. People say the rocks are the biggest cash crop in this part of the country. We stopped a one on Rt-70 west of town, Table Rock Quarries and were amazed at the amount of stone that is there. About five years ago we had built a small fish pond and planter at our house. We had spent a lot of time picking out the style of stone we wanted. Looking at what was spread out before us, it would have taken us weeks to make the choice from what they had here. To get an idea of the enormous selection of stone they have check out their website.


Our next stop was the pavilion in the lake thatwas featured in the movie "Dirty Dancing" It's on posted and patrolled private property so we couldn't actually go out to it, but we took some photos along the road. The neat thing is the movie was set in the mountains of New York, but this pavilion is in the mountains of North Carolina. Nothing is absolutely true on television or in the movies. Because it is only what they decide to show us, it is only the illusion of truth. By the nature of the medium, far more is left out than is shown. Editors edit what is shown. Directors select what is shown. Rant over, smile.
Back at the coach, we hung the new feeder, filled both feeders with food and waited for the birds to come. And waited. And waited . And waited. All to no avail. Not a single bird to be seen. We decided to look at the positive side. It can't get any worse. We'll see what tomorrow brings. We had open face quesadillas for dinner which must have served to whet Linda's appetite. It was later the baking bug bite her. The result was those soft chocolate chip cookies that are simply beyond words delicious. Complimented by butter pecan low fat, no sugar added ice cream it was the perfect end to another day in our life on the road.

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Mar 25    Up early today, ready for the workday. Look out the window and there are already groups of people,  standing together, coffee mugs in hand, talking. Maybe they are all the non-retired folks that came up. Nope doesn't look like it, oh well, to each their own, smile. Decide if they can have their coffee, then I can have my tea. I have been a life long tea drinker. Not sure why, maybe I was just rebellious even as a child. Growing up I remember most of the adults in my life always did two things first thing in the morning. They smoked a cigarette and drank a cup of coffee. Actually, it was more like the smoked a number of cigarettes and drank a number of cups of coffee. I remember them saying something about needing a cigarette and a cup of coffee to get going in the morning. Yet there was always one cigarette after another in the ash tray and one cup of coffee after another on the table.

I had a Great Aunt whom I often stayed with that drank something called Postum. It came in a glass jar and instead of putting it in the percolator she just put some in a glass and added hot water. As I got older I remember her telling me she started drinking it during the War when coffee was rationed. Tried it once and though my memory is dim, I recall somewhat of a burnt taste. So here I suddenly am, a teenager in the late 1950's, can't stand cigarette smoke, don't like coffee, what to do. To my rescue sailed Sir Thomas Lipton with his famous bag of tea. Here was an adult beverage, not to popular, but still an adult beverage, that I actually liked. Of course rather than have it in a tea cup, I made mine in a coffee mug, but at least what came out of the mug tasted good. For most of my life a bag of tea was my choice. I drank many different kinds, some, like Earl Grey, I liked, others I didn't. My jobs always seemed to require a lot of travel and slowly I was exposed to different types of tea. Decades before green tea became the popular drink it is today, a paper bag of gunpowder tea was ensconced in my cupboard, ready to give me a warm treat. At the same time, iced tea was the drink for warm weather. Fast forward to the Information Age. A whole new world of tea opens for me. So many teas to try, So many companies to order from. For the last 5+ years I have ordered my tea on line from Upton Tea Imports. There are many other suppliers to choose from, and all have great tea and fast service. If you're a confirmed tea drinker or just want to know more about tea, teamail, which is an email tea discussion group, is a great source of information. They cater to all levels of tea knowledge, from the basic, "I know nothing", to detailed reviews and commentary on tea growing or manufacture by world renowned experts in the field. While I try not to be a purist, I do find that the search for the perfect cup of a new tea can sometimes be elusive. I've found that proper water temperature plays a big factor in getting it "just right". In fact, I've crowed out the words "just right" so many times when I've really nailed a steep that my son got me heavy clear glass mug engraved, "JUST RIGHT!" Reading what I just wrote, I can see why many people get turned off by tea. It's too sophisticated. Let me assure you if you have ever drunk a ten minute steeped cup of young Puerh tea, one that was buried in the dirt only few years instead of a decade or more, you will have a totally new concept of what "strong" means when you refer to have a "strong" cup of whatever in the morning, lol, lol.

Well enough jabbering about tea. There was oatmeal to fix. Could be it for few days as we were using the last of our strawberries. Tasted just as good as ever. Then it was off to the Park workday. Our project was to work on installing landscape timbers on the last of the stream side sites. There were groups doing a number of different projects, a break for lunch then another couple of hours of work. I'll let the photo's tell most of the story except for (sorry Chaucer) "The Cooks Tale" which will be told at a later date with a SWP, Special Website Post, as I want to be able to do full justice to, errr for, the renowned chef Emeril Lafreemee.  I have to say we had a very wonderful time, got to meet and work with some great people. The only thing that could have been better was the weather. It snowned off and on much of the day, plus a cold cutting wind never stopped blowing. Despite this everyone had a great time.

After the workday was over we retired to the coach for some much needed rest, we both took a short nap, man we're a couple of wusses, worked on the website, had sliced roast pork sandwiches for dinner, talk about good!!!! They were nothing more than a slice of bread, fully covered with roast pork, a splash of the pork juices (they have partial congealed) and another slice of bread. Note, it is important that no bread show otherwise you won't have gotten as much pork on the bread as you could have, smile (yes, we LOVE roast pork). Finally watched a movie on cable to finish the day. Oh yes, almost forgot about the apple crisp and ice cream. Now the day was finished for sure, lol.


Cleaning up all the fallen fall leaves.









Making the pavilion weather tight.



Nailing timbers



Telephone guys working on timbers



Electricians doing what ever electricans do
                     


Helpers come in all sizes



What do you mean, it's off by an inch!!!!



Gathering of the Union of Professional Sidewalk Superintendents.

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Mar 24    Today starts the first big weekend of camping since we arrived at Mountain Stream RV Park. This is the annual work weekend. There will be 16 RV's coming in during the day for a free weekend of camping, camaraderie, work and food. In the very early morning hours a light rain was falling, but it quit before 7AM. It had chased the smaller birds to a safe place in the woods. However the larger birds were still out. Saw a larger black feathered bird I had not seen before. Tried to get a photo, but he was so leery of movement that whenever I moved it would fly away for a while. So it will just have to be known as a large black bird.

After a breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries, had to get a great start to the day, we went up to the equipment shed to get all the hand tools hung and organized for tomorrow. Ron and Becky are out this morning, so Larry is handling the office, checking in the campers as they arrive, while we work up close to the office so we can also greet the campers and help out if needed. Our job was not difficult, but it sure would make using the hand tools easier. We took each tool held it up to the wall, marked the location of two screws that would support it. Drilled the holes and drove the screws. We even managed to get it organized to the point where all the tools of the same type were together. When we were finished, we decided it really did look good.

As we worked different rigs were arriving. There were motor homes, travel trailers and fifth wheels. We thought it interesting that no one had a Class C. The people who were arriving had all camped here in the past. To them this was a very special place. Everyone had something nice to say about the park and Ron & Becky. As we've said before, this truly is a very special place. For us it was also a special day as our mail packet arrived. Since we are staying here for such a long time we are having the mail forwarded to the campground instead of general delivery at the Post Office. One thing that we don't worry about receiving is bills. We have everything set up to be paid on-line. With the Motosat internet connection it is so easy. It didn't happen over night and there were the expected problems getting several of the accounts set up. It's now been almost four months since we started to convert our accounts and the occasional frustration was more than worth it. This is one area where using technology to the max has really paid off and made our life much easier. Everyone needs to walk their own path when it comes to this area. We like to take the back roads in our travels, but taking the interstate multi lane expressway approach to bills was the right way for us.

This was one of the coldest days we have experienced while work camping. Lunch was a warm up meal for us of white chili. Delicious, hot, filling and nutritious. If it isn't going to be a turkey wrap, it needs to be a 4 star meal, lol. While the soup was warming, Linda decided to undertake a task she had been avoiding for some time, but the cold weather of today convinced her it was time to undertake. You see, the $5 pig skin gloves she had bought in Quartzite, low those many months ago, had developed a hole at the tip of one of the fingers. With the cold wave we were experiencing today, cold air was pouring in through the hole turning her finger into an icicle. Out came the needle and thread. The day laborer receded and the seamstress came to the fore. Quickly the hole closed. Barely had time to get the camera out and take a picture before she was done. Spent time working on the website then cooked supper, spaghetti with Bob Evans sausage sauce and tossed salad. To walk supper off, we took a couple of laps around the park. Amazing how different it looks with all the rigs here. The sunset was one of those special ones that cried out to have a photo taken. We ended the day by watching Monk and House on USA Network. Of course, as always, accompanied by dessert.         

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Mar 23    When I awoke this morning there was a definite chill in the air, since Linda was still asleep it wasn't something I said or did, smile. It was the air itself. I looked at the indoor outdoor thermometer we have setting on the counter. It was 24º outside, where had that come from? They were predicting 32º-33º the last time I heard the forecast. The water hose is gonna' be frozen, the water filter is gonna be frozen, man I'd better turn on the furnace or Linda and I are gonna' be frozen. Next I've got to go out and take off the Y-valve and filter and leave the hose disconnected to thaw out. Back inside I check and am relieved to see the system heat (for the wet bay) is on, whew, did at least one thing right. Anybody remember the song "Rock Me" by Steppenwolf?It has a verse that goes:

Don't know where we come from
Don't know where we're going to
But if all of this should have a reason
We would be the last to know

That pretty much sums up how I was feeling at the moment, a slight bit out of touch and without a clue. On the bright side, the furnace was now on, drawing water from our tank, I started to boil water for tea and though my fingers where too cold to type, I could sit at the table and watch the birds. Their reaction to the cold was to congregate in greater numbers than usual at the feeder. Looks like even the birds knew how cold it was before I did. Managed to get the camera out and take a few photo's. Normally there only one bird at the feeder at a time. Today it was a full house with a waiting line. Even the Cardinals came by. It was only a few days ago I was wondering if the birds felt anything. Today it appears that the birds know more than I do. Maybe it is true, that we would be the last to know.

With the coach warming up, it wasn't long before Linda's head peeked into the living room, well so much for writing the Great American Journal this morning. Soon the oatmeal was gently bubbling in the pot, fresh sliced strawberries filled a cup and the aroma of Linda's morning coffee filled the air. When we ventured out, trash in hand, the sun was already warming the air. We had one outside job to do. Finish putting the office window shutters away. Ron was in the office and got the keys. I say keys because each window had two locks and the locks were different for each window, Then again one window had two different locks on it. It produced a faint resemblance to the pick up sticks game we played as kids, only with keys and locks instead of sticks. The end result was the same. a jumble of keys and locks, smile. We made short work of the job, in fact Linda had each shutter placed under the office before I was barely off the ladder at each window.

Almost before we knew it, the job was done and we were in the office. What a grand day for an inside job. It is amazing how much needs to be done to bring a RV park out of hibernation and get it ready for the season. Up to now we had been readying the outside areas. Now we would have our first taste of stocking shelves. We would be placing all the tee shirts, tank tops, sweat shirts and hats on the shelves. They were stored in black plastic bags to keep them clean between seasons. First we cleaned the shelves, removed the shirts from the bags. Next we refolded many of them, then sorted them according to size, some sizes had only a few shirts and then only in one or two colors. Other sizes had many shirts in a wide variety of colors. As soon as this year's order comes in the shelves will be full once again.  

Before we quit for the day we had one other job to do. Since we first started working we had been fighting a stubborn sliding bolt latch at the back of the equipment shed. Today it made a major error. It refused to latch when Linda was trying to close it and she ended up scrapping herself. With screw driver and drill in hand I was going to make it pay the price. When I finished with it, it would be as docile as a lamb. In quick order the screws were removed, the latch lowered about a half inch and centered, new holes drilled and the screws put back in. Job done, Linda happy, Bob happy, life is good. Bring on the turkey wraps!!!

Lunch finished, a new problem cropped up. Linda could not get her desktop computer to recognize the shared drives on the laptop I use. This was very important since we keep the web pages stored on the laptop. I finally figured out that we had shut down the laptop and when it booted back up, Norton Internet Security started. Disabling it gave us connectivity once again. I'll tell you , I hate that product so much I will never knowingly buy a Symantec product again. Looking around I found how to configure it to not automatically start. At least something good results from Linda's frustrating experience. Of course that is no all that is frustrating for her.  She is at the point with her web page design that with everything she wants to do, she has to search the net to try to find out how to do it. I've come to look at her questions, not as an interruption, but as the opportunity to learn something new. Growth is sometimes painful but the result can be very rewarding. When she was first wanting to do this she began by looking at as many websites as she could and see what she liked about them. Gave her some great ideas, several which she is using, many of which she would like to use but can't figure out how to get them to work. But someday soon she will, because she can and will keep trying until she knows how. Her method is to work at it until she needs a break, then find a job around the house that is somewhat physical. This afternoons break resulted in the pantry being emptied of all its cans, boxes and assorted containers. The reason being the shelves were bowing and the shelf was separating from the reinforcing strip stapled to it. These are the type of design elements that cause me to shake my head and wonder. If it's designed as a pantry, marketed as a pantry and sold as a pantry, then why won't it hold the items a pantry normally holds. I'm not talking size, I'm talking weight. You'd think the designer figured people would only put bags of potato chips on it. I will definitely be a much more savvy consumer the next time we buy a coach. A little carpenters glue plus a handful of screws and the shelves were better than new. Linda's huge smile as she restocked the shelves told me "I'd done good".

When we were outside fixing the shelves Linda made a startling discovery. The Country Coach that had moved in next to us was a front for what could best be described as nefarious activity. The other night we had noticed that instead of the interior being aglow with light, there was only a single solitary lamp burning up at the front of the coach. All else was in darkness, seemed a little strange, but we thought little of it at the time.  As we were out working on the shelves we heard the door of the Country Coach open, then a male voice saying something. At the next opportunity Linda walked up to see who it was. All she saw was the backside of a man quickly walking down the campground road. That was when she noticed the movement in the coach. All she could see was a dark form. Then I hear , "Oh my gosh Bob, you got to come here and see this." Rounding the front of the Country Coach, I started to laugh. Why we had a high priced cat house parked next to us. Up on the dash was the blackest cat I have ever seen. But it was not simply standing there, it was rolling around, rubbing up against the window trying to touch Linda's hand through the glass. This is one case where the term 'cool cat' really applies. I watched for a bit, then finished up the shelves by myself, smile. For dinner we had some of the sliced roast pork from last night that had somehow found its way into our refrigerator, boiled sweet potatoes and salad. Linda baked apple crisp later which was topped with ice cream. The apple crisp has been giving her fits and tonight was no different. She had switched to Golden Delicious apples thinking they would cook down some and render more liquid. Didn't happen. Maybe it has something to do with using Splenda rather than sugar? Even if the texture wasn't what she wanted (it was okay as far as I was concerned) as she takes her cooking seriously, the taste was right on!!!

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Mar 22    It's just another day of work camping. I'm not ready to say we are settling into a set work schedule nor am I ready to say it's time to move on down the road. However, the days of the type of work we have been doing are slowly drawing to a close and the routine that accompanies the camping season draws ever closer. With these thoughts in mind, the oatmeal cooks on the stove and the strawberries await to be sliced. Talk about routine, this breakfast is about as routine as can be. Why I'd be half sick at the thought of eating the same thing everyday you say. So would I if it truly were the same each day. It's not. The same birds visit the feeder each morning, yet I never tire of watching them. Life is what we make it. Today, as yesterday and the days before, I try to make my life special. Take a strawberry for example. The ones we bought on Monday were much smaller than what we normally buy. It seems like the stores want to sell the kind that are so large that 10 or 12 fill the pound container. With hollow centers and an thin veneer of red over their white colored flesh, they look great in the store, but lack something in the bowl. These berries are small, some are gnarly in appearance, the fruit is solid, deep red in color and dripping with juice. Not the flashy glamorous berry that catches my eye and entices me, rather the solid good and long lasting variety, the kind we will truly enjoy. As we transition from the flashy, fun projects we have been doing to more mundane, repetitious tasks, may my vision change also, so I see my work as worthwhile, something that helps bring joy to the campers who are here for only an occasional weekend, or perhaps their annual week long vacation.

With these thoughts in mind, we set off to tackle the WB. After yesterdays experience in the mens bathroom (when it was untamed, MB was a apt name, tamed, ready for the season, it is simply the men's bathroom), but today we know what to expect. We marshaled our buckets, cleaners, rags and scrubbers. Retrieved our ladder and quickly dispatched the spots, specs, grime, soap rings and spider webs with speed, clarity and completeness. Other than a slightly more protracted battle with hair in the showers, every single task was far easier today than yesterday. Maybe the saying is true: "Men are such slobs", lol, lol.

Putting all our implements away, we ventured out from the heated bathroom into the arms of a beautiful cool, crisp spring mountain morning. As we walked over to the equipment shed, the last RV of the three that had come in this past weekend slowly pulled out, two cousins from the mid-west enjoying a brief trip to the Carolina mountains. They were returning to the routine of the life they live, we on the other hand were about to start The Sound and the Fury, smile. Our next task would be cleaning out the ashes from the fire pits, a new experience for us. When the season starts this will be one of the regularly scheduled tasks we will be doing. It will be one of our Tuesday jobs, scheduled that day so as to give the ashes time to cool after all the conflagerations of the weekend. Besides, there are a lot less people in the campground on Tuesday giving us easy access to more sites, at least we think it works like that, smile. So, you ask, what does a job like cleaning out the fire pits entail? Maybe you're also wondering just how difficult or physically demanding can it be. After all, it only involves placing a few light, fluffy ashes into a metal can, then later, dumping said can of cold ashes into the dumpster. Allow us to describe our ordeal, err, the easy job it was to clean the fire pits. To prepare we backed out TS&TF, hitched up the trailer, got a long handled flat shovel, drove up to the tool shed, got the small fireplace ash shovel and two metal trash cans. 

Starting with site 40 we check each fire pit as we drive up the road. This starts to get old pretty quickly, so we change our modus operandi. Instead of Linda driving and me getting out at each site to check for ashes. Linda drove the cart and I walked from site to site checking for ashes. Of course when I finally did find a fire pit with ashes, Linda was already three sites further up the road. She stopped and walked back carrying the little ash shovel. Knowing my place in the pecking order of life, I walked up to the trailer and carried the can back. Of course what I should have done was drive the cart back with the can in it. Maybe I was tired, then again maybe I was off my game so to speak. Guess I can't always be the sharpest tack in the box, smile. We shoveled, scraped and shoveled, eventually getting the pit clean. Of course the light fluffy ashes were a water logged, sodden, heavy gooey mess after all the snow and rain we had on Monday. The can, as I carried it to the next site, was already nearing my carrying capacity and we'd only done one site. The next two sites had only a minimal amount of ashes, so once again we were joined up with TS&TF. Linda helped lift the ashes into the trailer and we slowly worked and filled the can to the point where it was too heavy to lift anymore. Of course when this happened, Linda had once again parked TS&TF far away from where we were. A calm dispassionate discussion that allowed each of to present our respective points of view regarding the operation and parking positions of TS&TF took place. At the next fire pit as I worked by myself to clean it out, I decided that perhaps I did not appreciate the help I was getting from Linda, that maybe I had talked without listening and that indeed, maybe it was hard for her to park TS&TF exactly where I thought it should be parked when I didn't bother to let her know what I is thinking. The mysterious yet practical ways of women. By the time all the fire pits had been emptied, five metal cans of ashes had been placed in the dumpster while we worked together in close harmony. Always knew I was teachable, it's just that I have a short attention span when it comes to retaining what she just said, smile.

As we had worked along the stream we both realized how very beautiful this park is. It's no wonder Ron has put the sound of the flowing stream on the park website. Back at the coach we fixed our turkey wraps for lunch, however there was a pleasant surprise in store for us. When you eat the same thing day after day you become very intimate with every nuance of that particular food. We can instantly taste differences in the tortilla's, the peppers, whether green or sweet red, or the mustard, regular, Dijon or garlic (our favorite). Today it was the turkey that provided the surprise. Linda had bought some sliced turkey breast at the deli counter at Ingles on Monday. Thin sliced, but firm and juicy, according to our taste buds, it had been smoked to utter perfection. She had bought it because it was on special. What a find. Just when we think we know it all, we learn something new!! Life on the road, new towns, new stores, new taste treats, we love it.

As we finished eating we noticed a rumble, then a shaking. Next the nose of a coach appeared out the front window. The first of the work weekend campers was arriving. Not only was it the first worker, it very well might be the most important one as well. It was Larry, he of the coma and recent stay in intensive care, driving his Country Coach, wow, the neighborhood is going high class!!! The reason I say the most important worker is because Larry is the cook for this weekend's meals. Furthermore, we have been lead to believe he puts on a show that would make Emeril envious, smile.

 Later we both worked on our respective areas of the website. It takes a lot of time and effort to learn the new things we are trying to implement. One of the more vexing things has been the implementation of a counter for the website. Sounds easy to do, but for some reason it could not be viewed on the homepage. With the help of our son via email we finally solved the problem and it should now be visible. (It would have been easy to link to one of the free counters most people use, but not me). Funny how every symbol in every line of code has to be correct for everything to work properly. It was one of those cases of simply not knowing where and when to look for the error. (The web editor software I use was automatically changing one of the symbols in the code.)

Dinner time found us once again descending the mountain to eat at the Pleasant Gardens Baptist church. Tonight is a covered dish supper. Linda made deviled eggs and a double batch of her chocolate brownies (with the Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate). Throughout the years we've heard stories about the way Baptists love their covered dish suppers, tonight we realized they were all true!! As we took our turn and went down the table we saw several sliced roasted turkey breasts, or what we thought was turkey breast. As I was taking a piece I connected it to being in the south. It turned out to be simply divine, juicy, succulent sliced roast pork. Later back at the park we had leftovers for dessert. Didn't want those brownies to go bad, lol, lol. 

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 Mar 21    This was a work morning before we even went to work. As you probably know by now, I like to get up early and have some time just for myself while Linda, phrasing it the best I can, relaxes for a while longer before stating her day (we'll see if that passes the editors purview, yesterday we had some serious rewriting that had to done regarding stubborn behavior, lol). Though it might not be apparent, I truly love writing this journal of our adventure, the good, the not so good, the mundane, the repetitious (but I love food, I can't help it), the humorous, but always, what it was that we did that day. Sort of a true life adventure if you will. For the longest time I was on task and that allowed me to keep up on a daily basis with our life. Then came that fateful week late last month where I got behind for what amounted to almost a week. Don't know if I was suffering from writers block or what. Trust me, it ain't a gonna' happen again, lol. Anyway, I make notes on what happens each day then use them to refresh my memory when I sit down to write. So this morning saw me typing away, the keyboard near the smoking point, I was typing so fast. Well maybe not that fast, but I do pretty good with the two finger method I have perfected, smile. So don't be surprised to see multi-page updates posted over the next few days. And I'm not the only one who is busy. Linda is working both on the recipe pages and on a redesign of our homepage. And she's doing this with no past experience at web page design, just a strong desire to make it look and function better. From the brief previews I've seen she's doing great. Well, enough excuses for me and well deserved plaudits for Linda, there's breakfast to cook!!!!

Back to the old standby, yep, oatmeal and strawberries. We found a good deal on strawberries yesterday, $1.69 a pound, so two pounds are now residing in our refrigerator, hopefully to last the week. They were really ripe, but by refrigerating them their shelf life can be significantly extended without appreciable "off season" loss of quality. There are times when we lower our standards until locally picked fresh berries are available, sigh.

Today is going to be a little more "real world" work camping but we are mentally prepared, so bring it on, for this is the day we bring the MB out of its winter hibernation. It wasn't like MB was still slumbering, as we have already had RV's in the park, but what had been done to date was the equivalent of kicking it enough to wake it up. It was warm and had its life giving fluid flowing through its veins. Even so, the detritus of last season clung tightly to its vital organs. There were the tale-tell lines of Arachnids, the spots that marked the passing of Musca domestica Linnaeus, why there was even the dreaded remnant ring of body surfactant. We approached its lair with a mixture of trepidation, false bravado and misplaced confidence. Within moments we would be committed to our course of action.

We swallowed hard and attacked the..... Mens Bathroom. As befits Linda's high position, she got up on the step ladder and started cleaning the upper walls and ceiling with an oxy-clean type of product to remove hundreds of little spots. Our goal to return the MB to its lofty Good Sam rating status of 9.5. Stretching, reaching, wiping, cleaning, no spot too small nor too far, all fell before the onslaught of the Magnificent Washer Woman of Mountain Stream. Above shower, above commode, over bench and sink, on wall, on heater, over bench and basin, all gleamed white where her cleaning cloth doth pass. The pressure was on, the bar had been set, could I also pass the test? The job was going great until I reached the showers. They are fiberglass and held two very nasty surprises. The dreaded soap scum, and, as I soon learned, the even more dreaded human hair. Attacking the soap scum with the available cleansers and wipes resulted only in the expenditure of copious amounts of both elbow grease and cleanser with no reduction in the actual object of all this activity.

I was quickly reduced to referring to the offending coating as "the scum of the earth" and decided this phrase originated in the baths of ancient Rome. Everyone probably thought the Roman Emperor was referring to the slaves working in the baths when he first uttered the term, "scum of the Earth", but what he was actually referring to was the ring of soap residue that encircled his personal bath, smile. The scum final fell to an assault of "Freds Bathroom Cleaner" (it actually lived up to the claims on the label to remove soap scum) assisted by a green 3M scratch pad powered by a moderate amount of elbow grease.

Much too much rinsing and wiping later, it seemed like days, but probably was only hours, lol, the last hair was banished from the first shower and the second one attacked. This one was smaller and the task was completed in much less time. Meanwhile, Linda had been busy cleaning the overhead lights and was now ready to mop the floor as soon as I could take out the ladder. Moments later the job was completed. We felt good and the MB looked great!!

Our work for the day over, we retired to the coach to eat lunch, turkey wraps of course, and spend some time doing nothing. After spending a few minutes doing nothing I quickly became bored and as something was better than nothing, once again began working on the web page. Linda, being of the same mindset, was soon involved in the almost daily activity of clutter reduction. When you live full-time in an RV, clutter happens. (other things happen also but we won't go there right now, smile)

Then a really good thing happened. Becky had gone over to Asheville to the Sam's Club to get some things for the park store andhad asked Linda if there was any thing she wanted. One of the things we have not been able to find in the stores during our travels is Ghirardelli 60% Cocoa Bittersweet Chocolate. It's what makes Linda's chocolate chip cookies over the top. Well what should Becky find, but this exact type of chocolate, and in the three pound bags we always buy. Heck, this was even better than Becky telling us we did a great job on the MB, lol,lol.

Dinner was once again salsa chicken done the exact same way I described a few days ago. This is one awesome meal and tonight I remembered to take a picture. Note the near perfect placement of all the different food items. For a few moments I could visualize myself as a food stylist, you know, the ones that make the avertizing photos look unreal. Clockwise from the top: Non-fat sour cream, sauted rubbed chicken smothered in salsa, tomayos, green onions and our special refried beans, all on a bed of lettuce.

Later Linda worked on her web pages as I wrote for the daily journal. She's once again working to get the recipe pages into a semblance of order. What layout to use, include photo's, yes or no, provide a little more detail on how we cook it, what specal things we do, or just list ingredients and very basic directions. Decisions, decisions, decisions. The first attempt at the first edition, subject to repeated revision should be out in the next ten days, I hope, smile. Tired but still tasting our brownies and ice cream we closed up shop and headed to the back of the house.

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Mar 20    Remember the song by the carpenters, Rainy Days and Monday? Well that's what we faced this morning. However unlike the words of the first verse: Talkin' to myself and feelin' old; Sometimes I'd like to quit; Nothing ever seems to fit; Hangin' around; Nothing to do but frown; Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.  That is not how we felt this morning. We were talkin' to each other; feeling happy; ready to get going today; have things to do; need to get going on this Rainy Monday. Now I would be the first to admit that just a few scant months ago the words to the song were probably closer to how I felt on a day like today than the words that I just wrote. What about the birds? There are none at the feeder this rainy Monday morning. Are they huddled somewhere against the weather? What do they feel? Anything? Nothing? Questions I can not answer, but I miss my little friends.

Today we are breaking with our routine and having french toast for breakfast. This a meal you need to plan for if you want it "just right". Fresh bread just does not cut it, it needs to be stale. So last evening after dessert, Linda carefully laid 4 pieces of whole wheat bread at a slight angle up against the backslash. This was done to attain complete air circulation, thus ensuring perfectly uniform stale bread which in turn leads to perfect French Toast. Toss in a little whole wheat flour, fresh ground nutmeg and a few other ingredients, toast lightly on a medium hot griddle, serve with some sugar free syrup and a side of Canadian Bacon, and get total and complete perfection for breakfast. You had to know if it was something other than oatmeal with strawberries, it was going to be great. With a meal like that there is no way the words to the Carpenter's song could reflect our mood, lol, lol. While all this was going on, Linda was washing a load of clothes, which because we were going to leaving soon to go into Marion shopping, ended up hanging from various hooks and latches in the coach so they wouldn't wrinkle. Wonder if they'll be dry when we return, eh, eh.

As we got ready to leave, we looked out and saw snow!!! Wasn't heavy and it wasn't sticking, but it was snow. This meant the trip to Marion would be delayed for a time while pictures are taken and emails sent to make sure everyone in our family knew we were suffering terribly in this miserable North Carolina weather, lol. Emails sent, we were on our way.

We had light snow most of the way down the mountain which changed to sleet and rain, then rain as we arrived in Marion. First stop was the Wal-Wart. This is a small store with much less selection than a Super Center. We checked for some things but only found the salsa we like. Decided to check some other stores for salsa so didn't buy anything. Back outside the store the weather has now changed to sleet and rain.

Drove in towards town and stopped at the G.O., aka, Grocery Outlet. One of those stores that has a wide variety of items, mostly manufactures closeouts, label changes, freight damaged goods, etc. One of those roll the dice kind of places where sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Being strangers to this neck of the woods, maybe I should say this side of the mountain, lol, we knew we were going to make some mistakes, but what the heck, nothing ventured nothing gained. They actually had a number of things we gambled on, even bought some produce, grapes and lettuce (gonna' have salsa chicken again) and then I made a real find, fried in the shell peanuts. The display said, "Fried Peanuts, Eat 'em, Shell 'n All" Talk about waving a red flag in front of a bull, I almost ran down a little old stock clerk getting over there, picked up the bag and decided I'd like to try these. Of course there's nothing on the bag to indicate you eat the whole kit 'n caboodle, so why not as the clerk and find what the locals know about them. Her response was, "We carry them, people buy them, never ate them myself." Okay, I think, not the most scintillating reccomendation, maybe she's not a local. Let's think about this a little more. Notice there are two types, salted and Cajun. Think some more. I can understand the salt, after all isn't salt pork a staple around here, but the Cajun? Do they taste so bad they've got to be spiced up to be edible? Looking at the label it doesn't inspire a great deal of confidence. Looks like something made in someone's kitchen at home, maybe it is. Then again, maybe somebody cooks this up in a discarded oil drum to disguise the smell of the sour mash whiskey they are distilling on the back forty. Pretty much assured the clerk wasn't a local, I decided to do what I thought the locals did and dropped a bag into the cart.

Emerging from the store we found it was now raining hard with some snow mixed in for good measure. Found the next store, Ingles, without a problem. Ingles is the opposite of G.O., upscale with lots of choices, roomy isles and helpful clerks. Of course the prices were somewhat different also, smile. Undeterred, plus with all the money we had saved by, 1. not buying anything at Wal-Mart and 2. by saving money on what we bought at G.O., our budget looked safe. In addition Linda pointed out it is a monthly budget, so what, we go over it a little or even a lot today, we'll make up for it later. Yeah, sure we will, dear. Linda did manage to exercise a good deal of restraint as we we able to carry our shopping bags out to the Explorer in only one shopping cart, lol. By now we were walking through a slippery slushy mixture in the un-trafficked areas. Might be "fun" driving back up the mountain. We still had one more stop to make, the Wal-mart again, since we needed the salsa to make salsa chicken to use the lettuce we had bought earlier. This might be turning into a viscous circle if we don't watch out!! Up to this point we had been doing quite well navigating around town. As I was starting the Explorer, Linda remembered she hadn't called any of our kids and since the cell phone doesn't work up on the mountain, now was the time to make those calls. At this same moment I was deciding I knew my way around this town well enough to take another route to the Wal-Mart, instead of retracing the roads we had taken to get here. I will not divulge any of the gory details, no divorce papers were filed, we got to see parts of town only long time residents know about and we did eventually find the Wal-Mart, though most likely only someone driving an ancient pickup truck, and named Billy Bob, would go that way, smile.

Rain and snow fell as we drove up the mountain, but the roads were only wet and the trip was uneventful. I think Linda was secretly hoping for bad roads so we could put it into 4 wheel drive, smile. Rainy/snowy days mean inside the coach days, well at least if your at the coach, and after putting all our purchases away we decided to vacuum and clean. We had bought quite a few things, but somewhat to my surprise they all fit easily into the various cupboards and the refrigerator. As I've said, the four door refrigerator/freezer was one thing I had lobbied for when we were looking at RV's and we're both glad we got it (ranks right up there with the 3 slides and the washer/dryer). The neat thing about living in a small home is it doesn't take long to clean.

Linda  was almost done vacuumingthe living room before I looked up from the computer. She calls it not paying any attention on my part, I call it speed and efficiency on her part. Tearing myself away from the computer, I dutifully moved furniture, all four pieces and praised her for the excellent job she was doing. You'd think that after the "incident" with the wrong route to the Wal-Mart I'd be on my best behavior, what can I say, maybe I was just born with a stubborn streak (along with a number of other bad traits Linda says). Of course she does not believe she stubborn at all, no siree, not at all, smile.

Time passes, another web page get written and uploaded, someday I'll have to write about the programs I use for these tasks. I open the bag of fried peanuts, check the internet and find this link. A western North Carolina regional specialty it says. I try one. Wow, this isn't bad at all. Actually it is different for sure, but you know how it takes more than one of anything to know for sure. The second one better than the first. Fast forward, I eat almost the whole 10 oz package, they're worse than potato chips when it comes to having just one. Linda had a couple of handfuls also. She decided they were good, but next time I should get the other variety, salted only, no Cajun spices. There isn't enough peanut flavor in these Cajun ones to suit her. This means I'll have to buy two bags next time, mine and one for her in case she likes them. If she doesn't, I'll just have to eat both of them, smile. The white bean chili gets started, the aroma fills the coach, I make a mug of hot chocolate, we are content in our home on wheels, life is good. The white bean chili will definitely be on the recipe page. We enjoy CSI Miami, brownies & ice cream, laugh at Letterman's jokes and as midnight beckons, fold clothes and call it a very wonderful day.

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Mar 19    Greeting the day this morning were the finches, still in their drab winter colors. Their frequent visits and they are frequent, because at anytime during the day one or more of them can be seen at the feeder, piqued my interest. It's my time of the morning, what better a way to spend it than searching the net to find out about my little friends. This resulted in discovering the wonderful site hosted by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. As I've said before, we are not "bird" people, both of us just like birds but I find that a site like this is better than bird books for me because it has many more photos. These photos show the birds in different seasons and they can also be manipulated. Furthermore the actual song of the bird can be played. as opposed to some funny graph in a book, remember we are not birders. This doesn't mean we still won't use our bird book when were are away from the internet. Here I am, getting so caught up in the technology of the delivery of information about these birds that I'm not enjoying my feathered friends for the sheer enjoyment their mere presence can bring, shame on me.

Our plans for today have changed because the weather forecast is predicting a change. Remember, Sunday and Monday are our days off. You could say while we have most of everyday off, we have all of Sunday and Monday off, lol. The forecast is calling for cold, rainy weather on Monday, so rather than following our usual pattern, we plan to get in our sightseeing today and then shop tomorrow in Marion instead of going up to Spruce Pine. Following our breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries we prepared to walk across the street to the little church we have enjoyed attending. But first we had to check out the campground. There are three other rigs here this weekend. One of them, a travel trailer came in early on Friday night, set up and the truck that pulled the trailer took off and hasn't returned. We've seen several people over there and the lights are on in the evening. While we will never know about the people in the trailer we can have fun trying to imagine what might cause this scenario. Then there is the other travel trailer that pulled in Saturday afternoon. Pulled by a big black Suburban we were surprised when two ladies and a large German Shepherd emerge. It has to be just a wee bit crowded in that trailer. The third rig is a 36 or so foot long gas motor home. Parked up at the upper end of the campground, it has a couple who take a lot of walks and also take a lot of photo's. The are probably not from around here. Why not let our imaginations run wild, we'll never know the difference and it's great entertainment, smile.


A while later we were seated in the little church across the road with 12 other people besides ourselves. As usual, the songs were sung with feeling, the message delivered from the heart. I want to relate something that happened prior to the service this morning. This is the most casual church I have ever attended. Lots of chatter back and forth, friends and relatives greeting each other. There is only one problem for me. Other than Linda, Ron and Becky, I can barely understand anything anyone else says. These people are quite truly the salt of the earth. Natives of these mountains, they talk with an accent that is nearly incomprehensible to my ears. I don't know if it is considered a dialect, an accent or regional speech, but whatever it is, for me it literally goes in one ear and out the other. I chuckle when the music director announces the next song because the only way I know what it is, is to look at which page in the song book Becky has turned to. The funny thing is, once the preacher, Jimmy Buchanan, starts to preach, I have no trouble understanding what he is saying. Why?Who knows.

After church we fixed turkey roll ups to go and drove up to Crabtree Falls on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Crabtree meadows area is actually closed for the season, but you can park out front, climb around the locked gate, follow the road back to the campground and then walk over to the trailhead where the trail starts. There were two other cars parked out front when we arrived. It had been rather pleasant at the campground so I only had a sweater on, while Linda was wearing a light sweatshirt. No sooner had we started walking up the road leading to the trailhead than we noticed a definite chill in the air. In fact it was downright cold. The wind cut like a knife as they say, sending a bone chilling cold throughout our bodies. Figuring it couldn't get worse, we walked on. While we never got used to the cold. we found it wasn't as biting once we crested the rise and started down toward the campground.

Along the way, in the woods, we stopped to look at an area that had a bunch of pipes sticking up. Ones that are just like the sewer connections you find in a campground. We joking decided this must be the Parks primitive environmental tent section. But to make it totally environmentally correct each site has a sewer hook-up, lol.Never did see anything that gave a clue as to what it's actual purpose was, maybe a septic system leach field?

We located the trailhead and started the trek down into valley where the falls is located. Linda was quick to note the trail was a loop, 0.9 miles from the trailhead to the falls, with a longer loop returning to the parking lot. I strongly suspected we would be taking the shorter trail both ways, (I was correct). The trail goes through quite a variation both in terrain and vegetation. The photos below should give you some idea of what to expect. The