The Sketching of Ren

April 22nd, 2022 (Thursday)

April 22nd, 2022 (Thursday)

Well.

Just like that I changed everything. Small things in my life opened my eyes.

For one thing, I love playing Minecraft with my grandson. I noticed that I enjoy building cool places to call home, but once its built, I’m restless again The realization hit me that its the exploring and searching for the next place that I love about the game.

I also have to admit that I can’t keep from craning my neck to see passing RVs or RV dealerships. I loved my little apartment, but found I was accumulating too many things. Perhaps it was to replace lost treasures. Maybe it was to make me love it here or love living in a stationary place. Whatever the reason, I could see that buying things didn’t accomplish any of that and it didn’t make me happy. Not really.

Previously, my life in an RV was simple. No furniture. No collections of things. No dusting under and around trinkets. There seemed to be more hours in the day and going around corners or over hills brought me to scenes that took my breath away. I’ve missed having my breath taken away.

Finally I realized that I’m lonely for other RVers. Nomads. Road Warriors. My own kind.

Discovering all that about myself turned on a light over my head. Ding. I want to go back to nomad life rather than stay in one place, accumulating material possessions that begin to own me rather than be owned.

So that’s exactly what is happening. It wasn’t a decision made lightly or quickly. I know me and what makes me happy. There are many things I can’t control and aren’t in my power to make happen, but this one I could. After doing a lot of research on RVs that would be right for me, it was a matter of finding an available one. Beckley’s RV in Thurmont, Maryland had it. I drove there on a Saturday. The salesman took me to the section featuring the Grand Design travel trailers. The one I thought I wanted was sold, but he let me look at it. If it was the one I wanted for sure, it could be ordered and I would just have to be patient.

After looking at the ideal one and at several other Grand Design Imagine floorplans, I actually eliminated the one I thought I wanted. It had a desk, which was a must-have. It also had an island, which I didn’t need. Also it was bigger than I needed. The 2600RB floorplan was 26 feet in length (living space), with a very large bathroom, and lots of storage for my art supplies. I felt like Goldilocks. This one was just right. Turning to the salesman, I said, “I want it” and I got it. Within about two weeks of making up my mind to go back to RV life, I had a travel trailer and a truck to pull it. I named the RV “Patty” and the truck “Patty Puller”. I brought the RV home on St. Patrick’s day.Some of the details have worked out splendidly.

Picking the RV first made it better for knowing what truck I needed. If I’d have bought the truck I almost bought, I’d have had to buy a much smaller, lighter RV. I know that would not have been good. I had a campground site reserved near where my apartment and work are. That was smart. When the date for paper signing was set, I asked to have several things added to the RV. Having that done before signing gave me a good discount and ensured a safer and more comfortable experience with life as a nomad.

I ordered three Fantastik fans to be installed where there were originally default fans. Good choice. I had a surge protector built into the RV so I would have peace of mind. Surge Protectors are quite expensive and easy pray for theft when they’re outside at the pedestal. It also protects my RV from damage due to power surges. The rig was pre-wired for a back-up camera, so I had one installed. A monitor comes with it and I can stick that on the windshield and easily check for obstacles or traffic behind my RV. I ordered several other items, but those were the biggest changes.

Sophia, the cat, and I moved into the RV right away. I would have two months left on the lease of my apartment, but several things needed to be done. Sophia needed to decide if she could live in a travel trailer. I needed to know if she would run away when the door opened. She often ran out the door of the apartment, but the hallway was not really the escape she hoped for. In the RV, if she ran out the door, she’d be free and I’d be Sophia-less.

Another thing I wanted to accomplish was moving things into the RV slowly and as I discovered a need for them. Some things I brought here turned out to be impractical, so they went back to the apartment.

There was one thing I was anxious about. The dinette. The cushions were lovely, but when I sat on one, they proved to be little cushioning at all. Perhaps instead of being called cushions, they should be called cushion-less or uncushions. The table was too high. It felt as though I were a little child, with my food mere inches from my mouth. I could find no redeeming quality about the dinette even from the start. Well, maybe one. It was color coordinated nicely with the rest of the RV.

BEFORE
AFTER

I had my friend Steve drill three holes in the back. So far I haven’t been able to decide whether to bring all three of my electronics. I have a desktop computer, which I love. The other two items are printers. One prints fabulous everything. The photos look amazing. The other printer is for printing art work and it prints up to 13 x 19 on almost any paper surface you could want.. However, that would be the ultimate and make my life great, but it adds weight. Not just to the RV itself, but to the slide-out which has a weight limit of 600 pounds and that includes me. There is storage space behind both upright cabinets. The purpose of that is to store my suitcase solar panels and the small solar generator. That means even more weight and it’ll be weight not just on the slide-out, but on the forward half of the slide-out.

Its a common concern with full time RVers. We enter into this life because its a simpler life. I’m all in for that. Its more of a minimalist life and it brings life’s focus to more important things. Do I want to be known for “she lived simply and wisely” or “she wanted what she wanted, no matter the weight”? Arg! Its so hard. Choosing to give up things that have been important in my life. Never a favorite thing to do.

I suppose that’s enough for now. By the way, it’s my birthday. I’m sixty-seven today. I’m shaking my head even as I say it.

February 26th, 2022 – Saturday afternoon

February 26th, 2022 – Saturday afternoon

Yes, I made this 🙂

When I moved to York, Pennsylvania, I did it on a whim. Arriving with what fit in a 4×6 U-Haul trailer, over the past year and a half I’ve moved to a second apartment, acquired possessions, and made a life for myself. Most of what I own came from a second hand shop on Carlisle. A few things were in boxes and required serious assembling. Each time I purchased something I had to ask myself if the accumulation of yet another possession would make it necessary for me to remain in one place. Having little, as before, made it easy to travel and move about. I loved that part of my life and miss it more than I have words to describe.

I often have little arguments with myself concerning my tomorrows and my nexts. I’ll probably have more tomorrows, but what will they look like? Unplanned bills keep cropping up. Dental work. Cataract surgery. Can I be more thrifty? Continue working at minimum wage jobs? What do I WANT to do when my current lease runs out? Stay? Have I settled in too much, making a move more difficult? I convince myself I’d probably better stay put. Then a couple days later I’m drooling at the sight of a travel trailer or the thought of getting to visit friends and family again, taking my cat and my own bed. My turtle shell. Its nice getting to visit people. I love it. Yet I love having my own little turtle shell to rest and recharge in. So my little arguments never get resolved, because both sides of it are good.

My life is like my refrigerator

My fridge contains Greek yogurt, organic milk, homemade apple butter, organic eggs, a casserole, Mission BBQ leftovers (salmon and half a chicken), a variety of teas, spinach, brussels sprouts (did you know its spelled like that – I didn’t), and Pepsi. I suppose it represents my desire to eat healthy, sensibly, to succeed quite often, yet fail all in the same day. So my life goes. Trying to do the right things. Exercise. Lose weight. Get plenty of sleep. Earn a little money to save a bit or spend on surprise bills.

I have two rooms. I’m kind of sandwiched between apartments above, below, and on two sides. I like that. The windows are very drafty, so the more walls that don’t face the outside the better. My floor looks like a big patchwork quilt. The lease states that tenants must cover the majority of the floor and it helps insulate.

The cat’s room

My half of the room (yeah, right)

The other end of the room is my computer room and art room, kind of. I separate the two spaces with a tri-fold partition. In just the short time I’ve been here, I’ve rearranged things several times. Most of the time its because of the cat (Sophia). She demonstrates how clever she is. Curtains have been pulled down half a dozen times. Anything on any flat surface (no matter how high) is fair game. In her eyes all things are toys or places to explore. I’m teaching her that the art table is my domain. I know she gets it. She just choses not to remember. I invited her to nap on the top shelf of my art cart and she likes that.

Sophia aspires to be an artist, too. While studying pens and colored pencils at this time, she hasn’t decided how she’ll fit paper clips into her projects. Perhaps after a nap, it’ll come to her.

The other room (you can see the closed door) is the bedroom. Its very small and gets very cold, so I keep the door closed on winter evenings.

The kitchen is in the main room and its the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever had, even though its quite small. The cupboards don’t go all the way to the ceiling, so I put my prints up there and light them up with strings of white lights. The view warms my heart and cheers me. I don’t have room to store the prints, so displaying them up above works very well. No one will ever see them anyways. I have no way to sell them and no one comes to my apartment. So it works good to have them where they are. I enjoy them.

What would Mom think?

What would Mom think?

I’m wondering what my mom would think about how my life has gone these past six years since she passed away. Sometimes I wish I could sit and talk to her about it all or call her on the phone. If I could talk to her, I’d probably cry and I don’t think she ever saw me cry as an adult. Well, maybe the time she accidentally brought the car hatch down on my head and made me see stars. I think tears might have sprung to my eyes that time.

She’d be happy to hear that, after 46 years of marriage, my husband and I are divorced. She would be surprised to hear that he’s the one who filed for the divorce.

“Did you have an affair?” she’d ask.

“No, Mom.”

“Oh”

She’d be excited (and a bit jealous) to know that I spent three months in Hawaii this year. That was where she wanted to go more than anywhere else. I don’t know if seeing my photos would make her feel bad or make her feel as if she’d actually been there.

She wouldn’t be jealous of my trip to Japan. I don’t think she was interested in going that far away. She definitely wouldn’t want to go if she heard that I spent 25 hours on planes and 27 hours in airports trying to get there. She hated to fly. But she would have flown to Hawaii…once.

She might be interested in the story about living in an RV for three years.

“Three years! Why so long?” she’d ask.

I’d have to say “that’s a story for another time”.

I’ve always been a dog person

I’ve always been a dog person

Not that I, personally am half human, half dog. I love dogs and have had one in my life as far back as I can remember. So it surprises me that I have a cat now. Part of me is resigned to the fact that my life will be alone. I think I’m a great person. My life has been filled with adventures of all types. Yes, many of the things I’ve done have scared me, but I did them anyways. About three years ago I went to Japan and went Scuba diving and zip lining. The zip line was a confidence course with nine parts. I don’t think I even made it through half. The one that did me in was a segment where I had to keep my feet on a cable and hold on to a higher one with my hands. It was an uphill trek and took a tremendous amount of arm strength. Before that I’d been very proud of my arm strength. In college I was the arm wrestling champion in my ROTC class. In later years I did so much photography and filming that my shots were extremely steady. I helped build two log homes in recent years. So when I got to that part of the zip line trek, I was so discouraged. Age seemed to be catching up with me after all. I did complete that trek uphill, but when I saw that the next segment required you to climb a pole to reach the line, I went and found a place to sit down. Enough.

Scuba diving. I did go. That first and only time was right in the Pacific ocean and the bottom was beautiful with colorful coral and many species of tropical fish. When we got out far enough that we could no longer touch the bottom, I knew in my heart that it wasn’t for me. Tremendous fear washed over. I doubled back to shore. Never again.

My life has been an adventurous one. However, I’m an introvert. Enough so that it takes time to get to know me and I don’t think many people are willing to give it that long. Just making friends has not come easy. Once people get to know me though, we are life-long friends.

My life consists of a small black Jeep Wrangler, a two room apartment in the city, a few books, a lot of art supplies, leather portfolios filled with artwork, a bin full of stories I’ve written, a couple bins of photographs, a few pieces of very comfy furniture, and a cat. I’m scanning the photographs and one day those bins will be gone.

Since Sophia was with her siblings her entire six months of life, I was warned that for a couple weeks she would miss them. She did indeed cry for a while on the drive home. Once in the apartment, I was prepared to open the door of the cat carrier and leave her be until she was ready to come out on her own. I opened the door and she slipped right on out. She walked a bit hunkered down, like she was on a dangerous mission. Once she had checked out every inch of the apartment, she searched me out to be petted and talked to. I felt as though I’d been given the stamp of approval. I took the photo above at that time. I think she looked a bit weepy.

Night time was probably hard for both of us. I went to bed and during the night when I stretched my legs out, I bumped her with my feet. She leaped away. The next time I awoke she was laying at the head of the bed, where a second pillow would be. That seemed to work well for her.

Today Sophia figured out favorite places to spend her time. She likes the window seat, but only for a little while at a time. A young couple was down below, trying to befriend one of the three cats that hangs around down there. My Sophia plays quite a bit. She has a flat round disc that has a circular track for a ball that goes all the way around. She bats at it and it goes shooting around the track. When she’s tired or bored she just plops down somewhere and takes a nap. Usually she does this on the floor near my feet. A couple times she’s gone to the door and cried a bit, then returned to find something else to do.

So here I am, a cat owner. Our first whole day together was good. I took lots of opportunities to talk to her, which brought her to me for petting. She’s very affectionate, but enjoys her alone time as well. Maybe she’s an introvert, too.

This is where she spent one of her naps. She laid on my art table, underneath two lights, as though she were sunbathing. Perhaps she’s going to be okay here with me.

Here Comes Sophia the Cat

Here Comes Sophia the Cat

Sophia is one of five kittens in a litter being lovingly fostered by friends of mine. I heard about these kittens three months ago. I moved to a new apartment earlier this month and found out that the tenants can have a cat. Last Saturday I got to see the meet the kittens. Sophia melted my heart and yesterday I signed the adoption papers for her. Today I will drive the hour to where she is and bring her home. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. My new apartment is very small. It has something she might like though. The windows have huge sills. If they were just a bit bigger, I could climb up and have a nap there myself.

This morning I’ll go to the store and buy a few necessities for Rose. For now its nice to spend a little time by myself. I want to remember how it felt, being alone and how welcoming it will be to have her in my life. She’ll be my companion for the rest of her life and since I’m sixty-six, maybe the rest of mine. Today is day one.

Stories

Stories

I’ve been a writer as long as I’ve been an artist. I’m not saying I’m a professional writer. I want to preserve a lives by the telling of their stories. My early writings were about fictional people. I was a child in a troubled family and difficult circumstances. We seemed to roll from one trial to another. I made up stories about parents I wished for and for a me I longed for. After a while I had different things to yearn after, so I wrote about my own life. I wish I wrote about something noble in myself, but my life and a noble life haven’t yet become acquainted. I write for me. I’m a journal keeper. I write about wishes, dreams, struggles, but for the most part I write about things I want to always remember. I love being able to open up one of my journals and bring good memories back to life. There is seldom a time when I go back to read about the bad stuff; the venting and weeping on paper. I can read about the stresses of parenthood, but also about its joys. There were moments in the raising of three children where it was so sweet that I wept from the joy of it. I want to recall all of it, because reading it helps me relive the good times, but also reveal how I often spent far too long on the bad times.

Now that my children are grown and have families of their own, fewer stories are about moments with them. I remember when I was their age and got so busy with life and my own family that I didn’t give my parents the attention they deserved. Now I understand why my mom longed for more time with me and even more telephone calls.

My mom passed away six and a half years ago. I can still remember her voice and see her face. I recall our times together, both good and bad. My grandchildren don’t know her very well. I wanted a way to tell her story for them. She was deep into her time with Alzheimer’s Disease when I realized how important it was to tell something about her. I could no longer ask her questions and hear stories about her growing up. I looked around her small house and saw the things she had hanging on the wall or sitting on shelves. I saw her quilts and her beloved dog Penny. So I told about her by sharing a video about the things she loved.

Sometimes a story is best told like that. As long as I live, it will bring my mom to life once more.

One of Those Times

One of Those Times

This is it. One of those times that is being etched into my brain and onto my heart.

Its my last day in Washington (state). I leave tomorrow morning early and I take a heart full of good memories. This place has been paradise to me. I’ve been to 47 of 50 states. Hawaii is a paradise for many and it was for me as well, but this time…this three weeks…was paradise of a different kind.

Just now Dan (my son) and I were sitting outside at the wrought iron table. We were surrounded by beautiful trees and lush green grass. Katie has planted all manor of beautiful flowering plants and fruit bearing plants. The sky is a brand new shade of blue; Newborn Blue, I’ll call it. It goes so very well with the greens all around. The air is so full of bird song and the feeders near us had waiting lines for a chance to partake. Its truly a garden paradise. The golf course is right next to the backyard and the massive, fully alive trees protect us from stray golf balls. We ate our sandwiches and talked about all kinds of things. But it was the sitting together, sharing a meal, and talking in general that became “one of those times”. They’re rare and you know one when you experience it. We haven’t gotten to do that in many years. Many. Many upon many. Its a treasure. I’m weeping as I write this because I’m loathe to move on from it and slowly begin to forget every detail of it.

Right now Dan is upstairs participating in a Zoom meeting with co-workers. I can hear his voice and its like sweet music. I’ve enjoyed this whole twenty-one day visit, but there’s just something about this last hour that Dan and I got to share, just us two. I’m writing it here now, because I want to come here and read about it from time to time, to keep it alive.

Dan took this photo in the field at the Grand Forest

While I was here, Dan, Hudson (4), Leo (the dog), and I went on a walk in the Grand Forest. It was magical. I would like to have gone there again, but I know I’d get lost.

One Sunday, which just happened to be a record breaking hot day here, we drove to the Pacific Ocean and walked in the shallows. The water was COLD. Yet the air and the sun were almost unbearably hot. It was so nice to watch my family enjoying the beach, the water, and the day. The girls (Aubrey and Lilly) worked on a project in the dry sand near where we were sitting. Later I moved a chair farther from the beach, to sit in a bit of shade. I watched many people. All strangers. Saw how they each made the best of the day at the beach. I listened to conversations near me. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I was so close, I couldn’t help but hear snippets of conversation. It was a man’s birthday and the others were there to share the day with him. They were all Christians and every now and then they talked about their faith. On the other side of me a young man was sitting in a little stool kind of chair, reading a book. It was a great day.

Its been a perfect three weeks. There has been a mix of busy times, going places times, and relaxing at home times. Hudson and I played a lot of Minecraft. He just likes being with family…doing things with them…being included. Me, too.

Dan built a hot air balloon in our Minecraft town

When I get back to my apartment, I hope that I will go back with a new layer of myself. I’ll draw it around me close when I’m lonely or sad. It will be a comfort to me, having it. It will be woven with fibers and threads of memories, laughter, conversation, board games, delicious meals, quiet walks with the dog, affection from the cat, Amber, seeing Lilly at her ballet practice, having tea with Aubrey at the tea shop in Winslow, and just being here. Taking time to just be.

Cartwheels

Cartwheels

I recall, as a child, having no doubt that I could successfully perform a cartwheel. I didn’t analyze the chances or consider all possible scenarios. Nor did I fret about potential injuries. I just ran and did a cartwheel. When I landed, it took a moment for a tiny dizziness to pass; to get my bearings (oh, I said “bear”-ings). Thinking about it, I’m suddenly flooded with other memories about the cartwheel. I was with other people. Other children. We were all doing cartwheels and laughing. It was summer and the air smelled of fresh cut grass, made even more fragrant by the sunshine. I can almost hear all the birds watching from the branches of the maple tree down by the sidewalk, having a whole twittery kind of conversation about the craziness going on in the yard below. My sense of touch is remembering the feel of the blades of grass and the softness of clover, the dampness of the soil beneath, my sun-warmed hair, and the feel of a drop of sweat trickling down my face.

Its a good memory; a sweet memory.

Dance then wherever you may be

Dance then wherever you may be

Don’t wait for this or that to be finished. Don’t wait until all your chores are done or all your ducks are in a row. Just in case more ducks get out of the row or more chores replace the old ones…dance now. Dance wherever you may be and whatever may be happening in your life. And…to be even more courageous, dance in spite of everything. Dance when you are in the midst of terrible tribulations. Dance your heart out! Lets dance together. Ready? One and a two and a…(whispers) dance.

I Made Pudding…reposted from my old website “Travels With Einstein”

I Made Pudding…reposted from my old website “Travels With Einstein”

Grey Nomad

I’ve been a nomad for the past three years; a grey nomad. Traveling the country in a travel trailer and then a motorhome. It was a glorious time and it was shared by Einstein, my Golden Retriever. The words that follow are from my travel blog. I’m not a nomad right now, but who knows. I have wanderlust and it remains to be seen whether or not I can be content with life on firm foundation.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

By Dylan Thomas

Keeping in touch through social media

I read on Facebook about the special moments my children are experiencing with their children…memories they are living right now and that they will cherish always. As I read I remember my own times like that. There were achievements, performances, events where I witnessed them coming into their own, shaping themselves, living in the moment. I guess I long to have that all back…but it is gone and done. If I had lived just a generation earlier, I would be retired from a job, collecting a small pension, and sitting on the front porch waiting for something…I don’t know what. Life would belong to the young.

But I made pudding today..

I’ve asked no one to take this journey with me. In fact, I’ve intentionally needed to take it alone. I have needed quiet time to sit and reflect on what came before and what might come after. I want to think about how all the things I’ve done and experienced fit into what’s left of my time on the earth. When I drive along in the RV, miles of road before me, I want to see that road with my own eyes and feelings and impressions.

Whether I am able to muster up the courage to speak to a stranger, ask questions, ask advise, find out how their own path has gone out here on the road or behind the cash register or that counter…I want it to be because I wanted it. Right now I don’t want to consider anyone else’s opinion. I want to fit it all together by myself. When I come to an intersection, even if I had a plan at the start of the day, I want the freedom to change my mind and go left instead of right.

I’m ever mindful of the lessening of days in my life. Little aches and pains niggle at my mind and body, never letting me forget. This is my time and I’m letting it fall upon me quietly or loudly.

So today, on this Tuesday, I made pudding…because I wanted to.