So, the Princess and I survived our first two camping adventures without hurting each other. I always try mightily to back my Casita travel trailer into our camp site but I echo Blanche DuBois (A Streetcar Named Desire), “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” when I fail miserably. My job is to sweat and cuss and try and try again to back the camper in the right direction. Yes, I know you have to turn the wheel in the opposite direction from where you want the trailer to go. The Princess’ job is to stand around looking adorable with an an imploring look & pleading smile while nearby campers rush to volunteer to back the trailer in for us. I guess it takes a village. Whatever.
This time we’re heading to St. George Island State Park in the Florida panhandle. We’ll camp on the beach and explore Apalachicola and other coastal towns. We’ll eat lots of seafood — shrimp, oysters, mullet, etc. It’s going to be cold (30’s-40’s at night) so walks on the beach may mean bundling up in several layers. Picture two female Pillsbury dough boys and pray we don’t trip. “We’ve fallen and we can’t get up.”
I’ve prepared and frozen two meals, chili one night and chicken cacciatore for another night. I plan to store them in the freezer compartment to help keep the refrigerator cold, then use my slow cooker to defrost and heat up our dinner when we’re ready. I’m buying steaks & Idaho potatoes for our first night. Since we don’t have a very good track record with grilling on an outdoor fire, I’ll buy New York strips instead of rib eyes just in case our dreams go up in smoke (again). The Princess is responsible for cocktails and appetizers for the trip and local restaurants and bars will fill in the gaps.
I live in southwest Florida and the Princess lives in central Florida so we coordinate our departure times and meet at the confluence of I-75 and the Florida Turnpike in Wildwood. Her husband transfers her luggage (matching pieces of course) to my car and off we go.
I’ll let you know when we get there.
Categories: Aging Gracefully, Camping, Family, Humor, Life, Retirement, Travel, Uncategorized
Tags: blanche dubois, camp fires, camping, Casita, humor, laughing, mature women, road trip, sisters, st. george state park, streetcar named desire, traveling
Daily Prompt – Just Another Day: Our days our organized around numerous small actions we repeat over and over. What’s your favorite daily ritual?
Dusty is a 20-year old calico cat. She’s mean, obnoxious and her meowing sounds like the screams of an old lady in pain. I’m scared to death of her. She’s blind, can’t hear very well and is crippled with arthritis. She loves me. I can only feed her small amounts at a time or she vomits. When I hear those retching sounds I run to carry her outside but seldom make it in time. Then it’s my turn to retch.
Dusty and I have a morning ritual that I have come to enjoy. She wakes me with an old lady scream between 4:30 – 5:30 a.m. I stumble into the kitchen and prepare her plate of food that I set out on the lanai where her litter box is kept. This accomplishes three things – she eats, she poops and I can check the weather.
I then bumble around making coffee and cleaning up the kitchen until she comes back inside and limps down the hallway to stand next to my bed. I arrange her quilt on top of my bedding and gingerly (she is not de-clawed and I have the scars to prove it) pick her up by the scruff of her neck and place her on her very own hand-made quilt. Until a few months ago I have never allowed an animal in my bed. (Well … I mean … you know). She settles down for a little nap because she’s only had 14 hours of sleep.
I plump up my pillows, carefully crawl in bed next to Dusty with my coffee, my iPhone and my computer and we settle down for an hour or so of pleasant social media mindlessness. But, God forbid I move. There’s that old lady scream again — mine.
DAILY POST: Life After Blogs ...Your life without a computer: what does it look like?
Without a computer I would have even more time for/to:
Chill in the pool
Visit our cottage in the northern woods
Quilt on my longarm machine
Encourage my grandchildren to be silly
Participate in raising funds for breast cancer research
Because it’s one of our favorite camping sites and just 30 miles from home and since we’ve spent some fun camping trips there and I’ve often wondered who Oscar Scherer was, I finally googled (that’s a verb?) “Oscar Scherer”:
In 1955, Elsa Scherer Burrows bequeathed 462 acres of land to the state of Florida for use as a park. The land was donated in memory of her father, Oscar Scherer, an inventor who developed a process for dyeing leather for shoes in 1872.
After a year of preparation, Oscar Scherer State Recreation Area was opened to the public in 1956. In 1991, an additional 922 acres were purchased as part of the P2000 initiative. This increased the parks total acreage to 1384 acres.
It appears that Elsa and Pinnochio had a lot in common, famous fathers involved in shoes. Now we know and “knowing is half the battle” according to GI Joe.
Oscar Scherer State Park is where I often go when I need to run away from home for a couple of days. I particularly love this park because the campsites feel private and wild although you are only 20-30 feet from your neighbors and have access to water and electric and the showers & restrooms are clean – which is about as wild as I want to get.
My last escape from reality I was joined by my husband and we had a good time although things do tend to get a little bizarre when you have two 60-somethings escaping reality together:
Bobcat on the Red Trail
Would you go swimming?
Delightful camping site
No, I didn’t hit him … clunked himself on the trunk’s hood! But that’s what first aid kits are for.
Categories: Camping, Family, Humor, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Travel, Uncategorized
Tags: camping, Casita, oscar scherer state park, retirement
Granddaughter: “Oh, you’ve got a boo-boo on your neck. Does it hurt, Grammy?”
Son: “Ew! That’s gross, Mom.”
Daughter: “Here, Mom … let me show you how to wear a scarf to hide that.”
Grocery store clerk: smirks
Sister: “You go, girl!”
Doctor: “What’s this on your neck?”
Me: “I burned myself with my curling iron.”
I really did burn myself with the curling iron – heh, heh, heh!