Blizzard

We've had a good bit of snow up heya in Maine, to say the least. Like 30 inches or so. Nemo has packed the bulk of his punch at this point, and thankfully the power, phone lines and internet have all remained up and running. I know that hasn't been the case for many folks. My thoughts and prayers are with everyone affected by this storm.

The last time a blizzard invited me to participate in person was 35 years ago. I was in Rhode Island and getting ready to turn 7 years old. Did I just reveal my age? Ah well. I remember standing inside my neighbor and best friend's house, looking out the storm door at all the snow and wondering when my dad would get home. I forget now exactly how he made it home, but he did, safe and sound. And, if memory serves correctly, I think my friend's father was one of the folks whose car got stranded along I-95, and he actually walked home from there.

That was a lengthy and likely dangerous proposition.

Fast forward to today, and this is what greeted me when I opened the door this morning.

Just a rather small, manageable wall of snow

There actually are steps under there

Steps begin to emerge

 Making progress

Success!

With the deck done, I pondered next steps. This is what lies in wait.

See the particularly big lump at the 

bottom of the stairs?

My landlords shovel a path around to the back of the house so the oil company can get through and fill us up if need be. Usually I continue with the clearing and open up the rest of the walkway. Today, however, I think good enough is good enough and I'll leave just that small path through the snow. I'll focus my efforts on digging out the car. 

But first, warmth, lunch and possibly a nap are in order.

After all, moderation is wise, is it not? 

Blessed: Part 1

My writing hiatus has been longer than anticipated, but thanks to a couple of folks who gave me a friendly nudge, I’m back. 

It feels good. As does being surrounded by such loving encouragement to write. I’ve been a professional writer and editor for just about 20 years, and I’ve been paid well for my work. But it’s much different to write about what floats my boat, which is both easier and more challenging than writing for money (easier because it’s what I know, it’s fun and, when inspiration is present, words just flow; more challenging because it requires me to put more of myself into it, and out there, than an assignment does). 

Often lately I have reflected on how I am so very blessed by, and feel eternally grateful for, the many, many wonderful people in my life. The recent road trip may not have worked out as planned, but it enabled me to connect with folks in my old Southeast stomping grounds sooner and for longer than I would have been able to manage while on the road heading for Maine.  

For example, during the two-week visit I was treated to my first Thanksgiving with my beautiful spirit family in Asheville, NC, all of whom continue to amaze me with their unflagging love and acceptance. And with a quick trip to the Atlanta area, I got long overdue visits in with a few longtime friends there.

The weeks following Thanksgiving passed in a blink, and then it was Christmas. I spent the day with Miel, as she has been known to call herself, and her great two- and four-legged kids. Clifford fully enjoyed his time with fur and non-fur people alike, though so much fun usually wears a little body plum out.

Perky one minute

Pooped the next

The holidays this year have been absolutely magical, but not because of giving or getting. They were about just being with loved ones, which is a blessed gift indeed. 

I hope you felt that kind of holiday magic. And may the entirety of your new year be filled with all the love, abundance and joy you can possible imagine. And then some.

Go Girl

If your sensibilities are the least bit delicate, you may want to skip this post.

However, if you are female and have ever found yourself in need of rest room while out and about -- or not excited by the possibilities at hand, like a port-a-potty -- you really need to try Go Girl.

There are various types of devices like this that enable you to pee standing up, and admittedly this is the only one I've tried. But it works well, is easily stored and overall is freaking amazing. Not to mention that standing up is quite liberating. After using Go Girl, I wondered where she's been all my life.

Check it out: www.go-girl.com

(I don't have any affiliation with this company, and I'm not receiving compensation for mentioning it. Just had to share, ladies.)

Enjoy!

Home

Yesterday’s homecoming was bittersweet. On the one hand, it was wonderful to get back. On the other, I wondered whether being in my own four walls again meant returning to the same sense of stuckness I couldn’t seem to shake before I left.

Not a good feeling, to say the least.

Thankfully, a wise friend reminded me that it’s all about how I choose to look at it. That helped me get some quick perspective. After taking a much needed nap and stepping outside to walk Clifford, crisp Maine air, tall trees, a nearly full moon and twinkling stars greeted me. It was as if all those elements breathed together, right into me, right there in the driveway. Welcome home, they said.

With tremendous gratitude, I opened my arms wide, tilted my head back and received the beautiful offering.

Today I realized that the key to being here is not to be here. That is, to think of my apartment as base camp and get out much more than I used to -- to explore, write and be in ways that both gather fodder for this blog and fit the new sense of freedom gained from the past few weeks.

In other words, to really live. Simply getting by and existing lead to the proverbial pit where hope and faith tend to wither as depression and despair vie for position in the mind and heart.

It’s high time for living, isn’t it?

I don’t know about you, but I have just one answer to that question.

Amen.

"Are we really home?"

Change of Plans

I've delayed writing this post for various reasons, but the time has come to get 'er done.

To be right out with it, my traveling companion and I parted ways last week, just after our visit to Foss State Park. I asked to be dropped off at the airport in Oklahoma City, and I flew to Asheville, NC -- where I am now -- to spend a couple of weeks with my beautiful spirit mom Mary.

The decision to cut the road trip short was not an easy one, and it was not arrived at lightly in my mind or heart. As I pondered it all on the plane heading east, I firmly put aside the yackety-yack about failure that wanted to invade my thoughts and instead came up with four solid reasons why I consider the trip a success.

Connecting with Bear. This is something I felt strongly led to do for two years, since a dear friend first mentioned his name. There's nothing quite like looking into the eyes of someone with whom you've connected through emails, phone calls and texts over a period of time. Or getting one of his amazing bear hugs. Highly recommended.

Feeling the freedom of the open road. There was just a sense of rightness about being on the road, able to go and do and be at will -- and as led. The day we drove down from Mt. Lemmon, following my first rather humorous and definitely memorable night in the camper, the sun was shining through the windshield, beautiful evergreens dotted the mountainous landscape around us, cool and sweet mountain air was coming in through the windows, and all felt right with the world. Or at least my world.

In short, I liked it. A lot. And I got confirmation that on the road is indeed where I want and need to be.

Getting more clarity about the rig. I now have a better idea of what is likely too little, too much and just right. A teardrop, though small, lightweight and extremely nimble, would be too small for me on a full-time basis. Definite things I need in a rig of my own: room to stand up and move around; facilities of my own immediately at hand, like a toilet, a shower and an indoor kitchen; a real bed; and room on the roof for solar panels so I can boondock (camp anywhere without electric, water or sewer hookups) at will with modern lighting and juice for my laptop and cell phone if I want it.

Go ahead and call me city girl. I own it now.

Sensing a workable rhythm. I learned that I like a good mix of being out in nature away from it all and connecting with people in civilization. Too much of the former and I'd probably become a grouchy, out-of-touch hermit. Too much of the latter and I'd likely feel a lot like I did at the airport just after parting ways with Bear and still do now, in my spirit -- hemmed in by the world.

While I feel a lot is still up in the air, one thing is for certain: It will be fun to see how all the next steps unfold.

Foss State Park

We left the flat, dusty landscape of Texas behind and entered Oklahoma. We were headed for a wildlife refuge that Bear had stayed in before, but we mistakenly ended up in a beautiful little state park next to an interesting copse of trees. Most of them had trunks that extended upward toward a branch in one continuous piece, rather than trunks that led up to multiple separate branches. I don't know if that's clear from the photos. Overall, the trees made for a spooky looking, yet cool, setting.

Speaking of cool, the wind was whipping pretty ferociously off the nearby lake when we arrived Sunday evening. But by Monday morning, we enjoyed this placid scene before taking off and heading toward Oklahoma City.

On the Road Again

From what I read on blogs of folks who live on the road full time, not every day is exciting. There are just the average times of everyday life, like travel days.

We’ve had a couple of those.

We set out from Flagstaff on Thursday afternoon, making it to the first rest stop in New Mexico that evening. We camped there, adding another first to my list of them during this trip.

It wasn’t half bad. I actually slept the most soundly that night out of any in the camper yet.

Friday and today have also been travel days. We crossed the desert of New Mexico and now face a flat, dusty stretch of Interstate 40 through Texas. The excitement mostly consists of being blown around by the strong wintry wind, which knocked Cliff around while he was lifting his leg earlier and blew me sideways when walking out of a building.  We are also enjoying busting tumbleweeds that blow into out path. Bear likes watching them disintegrate on impact, like a snowball. It is indeed fun to watch.

I had my first truck stop shower today, too, which wasn’t half bad. A very nice trucker named Nick saw me about to pay for it, stepped in and provided a code that enabled me to get clean for free. It’s amazing how unexpected little kindnesses, especially from seeming strangers, can be so meaningful. Thanks, Nick, for the shower and for what will likely be a nice memory.

I took a bit of time underneath the hot spray, leading me to wonder if Bear is regretting telling me about what he calls teardrop time. My understanding of it is that time passes slowly, in a sort of meander where there is no rush and, in fact, hardly any time at all. I think I might be taking that a bit too literally, leaving Bear much like the country song: waitin’ on a woman.

We are hanging out at said truck stop in Amarillo, waiting to see a friend of Bear’s who will be driving through here in a couple of hours. Bear also got an unexpectedly necessary brake repair done on the trailer while we’ve been here, taking further advantage of that teardrop time.

As promised, here are some images of the ponies (Jeep) and stagecoach (teardrop camper) that keep us moving and sheltered on this trip.

Here's the yurt we stayed in for a couple of nights. It's like a big, round, sturdy tent with a floor and a raised ceiling.

Clifford really loves being outside, enjoying the air and sunshine.