Why is the floor moving? OR Let the war begin!

Let me just start by saying that I LOATHE public showers. 

I am a slight germaphobe; for instance, if I drop a cookie on the floor I enforce a “2 second rule” rather than a “5 second rule.” The only way I would feel comfortable using a public shower, were if I scrubbed it down first with a disinfectant. The shower curtains are the worst. The minute you shut the water off it creates a vacuum effect which sucks the filthy, raggedy drape of plastic inward to cling onto your freshly cleansed body. Never fails. 

Okay, I am ranting. Boo hoo. Put on your big girl panties and just deal with it, right? Alright then.

As we are trading God’s beautiful nature, for sewage hook-ups, we must do our duty and do our big dooties (well not BIG, necessarily, but our dooty-dooty) and our showers in the campground bathroom to save room in our RV tanks.

It had gotten to the point where the flies were buzzing around me more than the dog, so I figured it was time to give in and go use the campground shower. <<shivers>>

I loaded up my supplies and headed over, through the obstacle course that nature in the dessert provides and I arrived, without cacti attached or scorpion stings. Pat myself on the back - I am getting good at this!

On the advice of my husband, I entered the handicap shower...He had seen me pack my razor and knows full well that if I don’t have a place to sit whilst I shave my legs, I will end up doing the splits onto the shower floor, not voluntarily of course.

I opened the door to find a large, private room with its own sink, a cement floor with two drains, two hooks by the shower stall for hanging your ‘whatevers’, and two benches; one outside the stall for dressing and one inside the stall for shaving. Ugh, I looked at the shower bench and imagined a gazillion dirty butt prints . . . never mind, I’ll use my electric razor when I get back to the rig. 

I got myself all set up. I had my clothes laid out in the order that I would be putting them on, had my hair towel and bath towel hanging on the hooks; hair towel closer as I would need it first, and my shower gear set up in the shower stall itself. Let’s get this over with.

Flip-flops on, of course, I enter the shower. It had a hose that I could take down off the wall, so I was happy with that, as well as the fact that there was no shower curtain! Yay!

Waited for the water to warm up, it never did, so I began my cold shower. No grumbling from me though. What’s the point if there’s no one around to hear it?

I had washed my hair and bent over to put the conditioner in when I noticed the floor moving. My first thought was, crap – I’m going to faint, until my eyes focused and I realized it was not the floor moving, but spiders, the same color as the floor, fleeing the wet area I was standing on. As one ran across my foot I screamed (didn’t care that no one was listening) and grabbed the shower nozzle. I sprayed and sprayed and SPRAYED! Those dang spiders would not die; they just kept getting back up and running.

I grabbed a flip-flop from my foot and began smacking them until there was nothing moving. Hopping around on one flip-flop, on a slippery wet cement floor - chasing spiders that were much faster than me was no easy feat, but I killed them all. I am completely amazed I didn't slip and crack my head open. (Now I sound like my mother).

Just proves spiders have no brains. If only they had all turned and charged toward me, they would have won that war!

I had enough of this shower business. I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, gave my body the ole once over and shut off the water. Stepping out to dry off I got my first real look at the ‘war zone’. This was a big room and not an inch of it was dry…including my towels and the clothing I was to change into. <pout>

Oh well, I won the war and that’s all that counted. <mental victory dance> I donned my wet clothes and headed for the rig . . . We’ll see how long I can last before Mark drags me back to that shower...we'll be here for another week.

At least I won't be hairy! <wink>

There is no "I" in Cactus or Velociraptors are still contained ...

This morning a very strong beaked bird pecked out one of the taillights on the RV, so this afternoon while Mark and Cotye worked on replacing the light, I took off on a wee hike to check out the local flora and play with the new camera lens attachment I got for my phone.

And may I just say, FUN gadget! Totally replaces the need for a big, bulky, camera. It is a small, single piece that clips easily onto your phone, and has four lenses to choose from; panoramic, fish eye, 10x magnification and 15x magnification.

I got so wrapped up in playing with my new “toy” that I had no idea I was collecting “hitchhikers” as I was taking photos.

When I began to walk back to the path (I had strayed) I started to feel extra bits moving around on me that I didn't remember feeling before.  

I looked down to find my shoes were covered in very long spikes, some of which were trying to make their way inside my shoe.  Plus, I had golf ball size clumps of cacti stuck to my shirt in various places, all the way around my shirt.

So here I was, simultaneously hopping up and down on one foot, trying to extract the spikes that were inside one of my shoes, while reaching around to remove spiky balls from body parts I didn't know I could reach, without stabbing holes in my fingers. AND, I was doing all of this while making every effort not to bump into more cacti that seemed to be closing in all around me.

It was a bit of scene, to be sure. Just hoping I did not catch the eye of any of the neighboring campers. Do you ever wonder how many videos there are out there, of you doing stupid stuff, or is it just me?

I still have one stubborn spike that is embedded in my thumb; looks like he will be spending the night.

Here are a few of my favorite shots from today…

So many types of cactus and I apparently only brushed the surface.
 (Pun intended, tee hee)

Looking forward to seeing many more types of cactus on our travels. I never realized how beautiful they really are.

Oh, I think I may have solved the mystery of the whistling, communicating critters that had us running for cover the other night...Yellow Bellied Marmots? Also known as "whistle pigs" . . . Mark still contends they were birds, which there are a lot of around here, whistlers as well. 
I am just happy to know there are no Velociraptors on the premises. 

<<shivers>>

Do you hear whistling? or Yoko-cicada ran off with the band . . .

Hello from Usery Regional Park, just outside of Mesa, Arizona.  There has not been a whole lot going on since our last post. Our great adventure has had a very dull beginning. It seems the only RV Parks with sewage hook-ups in Arizona, are either parking lots or mobile home parks in the center of Any-City Metropolis. 

This was our view this morning - yawn . . .

 And this is our view this evening - Oh so much better!

Okay, so we don’t have a sewage hook-up. But we are surrounded by nature, we can hold it in for a few days! Not really. But we will be using paper plates while here, no washing dishes. <big smile>

On our way to Mesa, our first stop was Yuma. We stayed several days and never could figure out what the draw to this place is.

 It was noisy, with Border Patrol Helicopters buzzing continuously overhead.

You can see Mexico just on the other side of the fence.

 It was hot. There was nothing to do in town. And the cost of homes in the area rivaled that of LA! For example, they wanted $350,000 for an adobe style park model home in the RV park where we stayed. Granted they were adorable, inside and out...but really?

We went for a drive to scout the area, as we had this nagging feeling we must be missing something. Why do so many people flock here in droves for the winter? 

This is what we found...

Okay, I must admit these are very impressive toys. 

But still, we left Yuma scratching our heads.

Next stop was Casa Grande. We actually looked at a few housing communities while there and really liked the area. Took some photos but when I uploaded them from my phone into my Drop Box to share, I deleted them from my phone too soon and lost them all. Bugger. 

The one photo that made it through is the one at the start of this post, the gravel parking lot start to our day. That is the Casa Grande RV Park. Cotye loved this park and for good reason; the dog park was HUGE and grassy with a little LAKE in the middle! It was the prettiest part of the RV Park. He was not happy when it was time to bug out.

Tonight when we sat outside it was warm (not hot), beautiful and quiet. Our souls reclined and in unison, heaved a huge sigh of contentment.

Cotye, on the other hand, had his nose working overtime. So many new scents! 

Then the new sounds kicked in with one unsuccessful cicada who made several attempts to get an orchestra started...but no one joined in. Maybe they had already 'bugged' out for the winter...heehee

Next there was a hoot owl, which made Cotye's head tilt in complete curiosity every time it called out "WHOO"  "WHOO". 

And, lastly, there was a whistling creature that none of us could make out whether it was a bird or an animal. 

It was rather scary at one point when there were several of them, whistling communications with each other and it became obvious they had begun to surround us.

First one on the left of us whistled to one directly in front of us, who in turn whistled to another on our right and so on . . . I was beginning to have flashbacks from the movie Jurassic Park. Remember those cute little dinosaurs that talked back and forth to each other and then pounced on an unsuspecting man and ate him up with their razor sharp teeth?

We decided it was getting dark and we should probably go inside. 

We'll investigate the "whistling creatures" tomorrow. 

In the daylight. 

I do feel adventure in the air. . . and it is looooong over due. 

Meanwhile, it is time for a movie and a sleep. 

Lessons Learned, Viva la Vie Boehme!

We packed up and flew out of town, well as fast as you can fly in an RV, towing a car, in LA traffic, that is standing still. It seems the past week took its toll on more than just me. We are, after all, the Three Musket Ears. (This is what Cotye thought we were saying in the beginning and we thought it was cute, so The Three Musket Ears it is!)

Giving all you've got, and then leaning on the Grace of God when you run dry, is hard to explain to someone who has not been there yet, but to those who have, you know exactly what I mean.

I am so grateful for this past week with my sister. We laughed, we cried, I hope I helped her understand some of what she is going through. She seems calmer; no longer throwing fits of rage or becoming uncontrollably agitated. I feel like I need to be there 24/7 to insure she stays comfortable, but I know that is not an option.

I did take away a few “lessons learned” from this experience that I’d like to share. 

Lesson One)

There is safety in numbers  OR  Little old ladies are bad asses!

Remember The Penguin? The guy that would sit in his room and yell unintelligible, scary things that would frighten me so bad I’d run past his room with my head down?

One evening I was sitting next to my sister’s bed, she was sleeping quietly and I could hear The Penguin, he was banging his tray table around and screaming up a storm (still can’t understand him…it is some serious mumble/yelling).

I also heard some women whispering outside the door.

“What is he saying?”

“I don’t know but he sure is mad.”

“Yes, he is angry a lot.”

I peeked out to see four cute little women in their wheelchairs; two on each side of The Penguin’s door. He was new to the facility and they were, as inconspicuously as possible, trying to get the skinny on this new enigma. All I could think of was, gosh they were brave! And then the nurse’s aide came and shooed us all away.

After that, I realized how silly I had been. He was just a man. I was determined to get a look at this guy. I walked towards his door, leaned in for a peek, He let out a scream/mumble and I about peed my pants as I ran away.

I don’t know, maybe your ovaries drop and you grow a pair of kahuna’s when you reach your 80's. I just don’t get why I am such a big chicken. Now I’ll never know what the REAL Penguin looks like.

Lesson Two)

It’s the Simple Things in Life  OR  You can’t control the wind but you can adjust your sail.

I needed a distraction and found I could no longer work on my Expert level of Sudoku with a pen, much less do the Beginner Level in Crayon. The brain is always the first to go when stress hits, at least for me. I resorted to Word Find, which, if you are an avid puzzle doer, you know these don't count; as puzzles they are for toddlers.

However, it was obvious I was disintegrating in the chaos that was my surroundings, so I found the simple act of completing a Word Find, in the order the words were listed, and forming PERFECT circles around each word, gave me the order I needed, one page at a time. This kept my mind from running a around in circles, in full blaze, inside of my skull.

Lesson Three)

When one falls, they all fall  OR  I am the glue.

I knew I was beginning to struggle when I had gone from Wonder Woman on steroids to, I wonder where I put my cane. I was struggling with walking, sleeping, breathing, everything was falling apart. I half expected the nursing staff to mix me up for a patient and force me into a bed. Not that I would have complained.

Since “the boys” stayed home every day and watched TV, took leisurely walks, and basically chilled while I was gone, I assumed they were doing fine. Turns out they were both going nuts. Cotye started to lose his hair - - he must have felt the stress in the air, or was bothered by my not sleeping at night - - he is so sensitive. And Mark, he was very understanding with where I needed to be, but there he sat, watching the walls close in on him a bit more each day. He was starting to go a bit off his rocker.

Either we are all connected on a really deep level, and/or I am the glue that holds this family together . . . the glue fails, the parts fall off. Maybe I should ask for a bigger paycheck? Wait, am I comparing myself to an old horse who has been sent to the glue factory?…I should probably rethink that one.

Lesson Number Four)

How to say good-bye to a loved one  OR  Pull the Band-aid off quickly, then run!

Jeri and I both knew the day and time we’d be saying good-bye. We talked about it often so she would be ready. And I spent every moment that I wasn't tending to her, holding her hand or stroking her head, and telling her I love her, constantly. By the time “the moment” arrived, I simply leaned over, gave her a kiss and a hug, told her I loved her, again, and that I would call her tomorrow.  

I walked through her door, thanked her nurses, then practically ran out of the building; did run to the car and had Mark hit the gas and drive away as fast as possible. No, we did not go back to the RV where I could wallow… but rather to a nice restaurant where the atmosphere demanded celebration. Celebration for the time I got to spend with Jeri; celebration of her life; celebration of the possibility that I will see her again. One never knows.

We have been in semi-seclusion for two days now. I talk to Jeri daily. She sounds well. Had a bit of a scare when they connected me to the wrong room last night and a woman, who could not speak due to a recent stroke yelled into the phone at me . . . Thank God they hadn't accidentally connected me to The Penguin! Can you imagine?

Meanwhile, all three of us are still convalescing. Cotye’s hair stopped falling out but he is sleeping a lot. Mark too is sleeping around the clock but is not so purple in the face, and me…I've put away my cane, or did I lose it?…no matter, it is not needed at the moment and that’s a start.

The best part is we are finally living life day-to-day. It took us almost six months to reach this point and it is like a bit of heaven we thought we may never taste.

Here is to Good Health and Great Adventures. 

I have always said real life makes for the best stories 
and I love telling a good story!  

Viva la Vie Boehme!

Healthcare providers are super humans!

Healthcare providers are super humans. I know this for a fact.

From the moment I arrive to visit my sister at her Nursing facility, to the moment I am carried away by my husband, who keeps asking me why I am yelling instead of talking when I come out of there, my heart is racing, all day long.

Today I arrived in time for lunch. Food service hours are the busiest times of the day. There are trays to be passed out; complaints and switches of menu items to be made; calming of patients whose meal did not arrive on the scheduled time; assisting of patients with non-meal-related issues, as well as interruptions from well-meaning loved ones who want help heating/serving food brought in from the outside (which has, of course, not been cleared ahead by the dietitian). It is like walking into the eye of a storm, without the eerie silence.

As soon as the trays and debris begins to clear, the quiet chaos resumes. i.e. the patient at the end of the hall, that yells “Yoo-hoo! You-hoo! You-hoo!” every 5 seconds throughout the entire day, starts back up on queue.

And the gentleman that speaks in a loud, muffled voice that sounds like The Penguin on Batman starts in with his angry mumble/yelling. I don’t know which room is his. I don’t know what he’s saying. I don’t want to know. He scares the hell out of me – occasionally you can make out words such as, “You’re all filthy” or “Kill them! Kill them all!” But mostly, you can just feel the anger and it makes me avoid eye contact as I head to Jeri’s room.

Every time I enter the hallway, someone asks for my assistance.

Today a sweet little lady asked me to help her to her room. She gave me a room number that was non-existent, so I consulted an attendant who directed me to a two-bed room.

As we entered I asked, “Is this your bed?” “

Well,” she replied, “I’m not sure but,” nodding to a teddy bear on the first bed, “I do know this bear and I have met before.” (Melt my heart!)

Another time I ventured out to head to the visitors bathroom, and the halls were lined with roll-away plastic laundry/rubbish bins that the aides use for the disposables after cleaning up patients’ beds, etc.

There was a sweet little lady blocking my way, as she was stopped in her wheelchair, thumbing through the clean bags that hung from the front of these bins, seeing if she had use for any, I guess. Trying to get by her without disturbing her ‘shopping’ spree, I grabbed the cart to my right to move it and squeeze by. As my hand grasped the cart, I felt something soft, wet and mushy. I couldn't look.

I somehow made it to the bathroom and without breathing or looking down, I was able to scrub my hands clean, several times. You just can’t un-see stuff. If I had seen or smelled someone else’s poop on my hand, I’d still be in that facility, wrapped nice and tight in a straitjacket right now.

Tonight, my sister awoke, crabby and hungry, only to find her dinner was 30 minutes late. “Go check!” She said! As her roommate was screaming at the top of her lungs, “AAAaahahhh, I HAVE TO POOP!” . . . something snapped. 

I ran out into the hallway, eyes as big as saucers, saw an attendant who appeared to try to fly by the door unnoticed - I grabbed him, looked him desperately in the eye and shrieked, “BED 2 HAS TO POOP!  BED 1’S DINNER IS OVER 30 MINUTES LATE!  AND I NEED A VALIUM!”

His brown eyes went from distracted and all business, to warm and laughing. I had just made his day, and he had just made mine with his calm, controlled demeanor.

Healthcare workers are superstars.  It takes a special blend of strength, people skills and compassion to be able to do what they do, day in and day out. We cannot pay them enough, in my opinion.

I am a wreck every day I leave that place. I am going to roll around in my Tumbleweed with my Toad of a husband and my wrinkly old dog till the day I die. All I need is a lifetime supply of Valium.

Four or five more days and we are checking out of here; back to adventures on the road, rather than in a hallway.

All I can hear are the words to Hotel California . . . ”You can check out any time you like but you can never leave. . .”

Now where is that Valium!?

Splat!

Has anyone else noticed the similarities between humans in their infancy stage and the geriatric phase? I don’t like what I am seeing.

I think those of us nearing our retirement age should seriously be thinking of alternative means of care, rather than that given by current standard nursing homes.

There must be another way. Why should we, who have been toilet trained, go back to wearing diapers? Go from preparing our own meals, to having mystery meals prepared and spoon fed to us, excess dribbling down our chin?

Live our whole adult lives only to age and be told how late we can stay up, what we can watch on TV, or even when and if we can watch TV.

We are simply moving backwards in time. Except, instead of ending back at the love and comfort of our mother’s bosom, we end up at the mercy of strangers who are paid to care for us.

Take the basic wheelchair for starters. Designs have not changed much in the past few decades. Why not try hover-mode, rubber bumpers, personalized horns, and satellite radios?

And diapers; gosh, there must be a way to avoid this messiness, again! What about some sort of spaceman-like pants that just suck the schmud right out of you…no goosh involved.

Food: If you can no longer chew, why not replace with delicious, nutrient infused liquid options, such as Margarita or Daiquiri flavored protein shakes, alcohol optional?

The only Jello on the premises would be in a shallow swimming pool in the courtyard.

Activities coordinators could be so much more creative - - - What about replacing afternoon Bingo, with a Bounce house? At the end of each bounce session, think how much fun it would be as each person scrambled to collect their own extra bits! It would be like a life-size game of Mr/Mrs Potato Head, with everyone attempting to match up the right hairpiece, teeth, hearing aids, etc. to the right person.

Or perhaps a rollicking game of hide-and-seek while wearing florescent balloon animal hats in a black-light lit, padded, activity room? The possibilities are endless.

Forget curfew and other non-grown up rules. Kitchen is open 24/7 . . . If one wants to eat dinner at 2pm or 2am, the customer is always right.

Today at my sister’s nursing facility there was a gentleman, laid back in what looked like a giant pram, taking what looked to be the most comfortable nap of his life. Now that looked like freedom.

In our “golden” years, we need something to look forward to. 

Creative minds unite! For our future looks like a big old déjà vu of our beginnings, but with all of the good bits removed. M  (tic-tock)

It was a surreal day of reality, hitting gray matter, hitting emotion...hitting the wall...

Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe I’ll be dealing with less emotion, more gray matter and zero walls.

Meanwhile, once again we found ourselves back at our new fave, the old Norms!

I like Norm's.

Life is a Scribble.

What a roller coaster ride of emotions. I guess that is fitting for Santa Clarita Valley, home of Magic Mountain and the best selection of roller coasters all in one location!

So, second time around, dealing with emotions of elation, nostalgia - - - I was rushing around this morning to all my local haunts, while I knew where I was, i.e. Michael s, Sally’s Beauty Supply, my local pharmacy, where we are all on a first name basis. Sad but true. Lol 

Driving the Toad to meet up with Mark. who was getting the tire pressure checked on the Tumbleweed, I turned the music up and was mentally thinking, “This may be the last time I ever drive around in this area by myself.” (sigh) – Then the radio pops on with Tom Petty, “Don’t come around here no more . . . Well fine! If that’s how you feel. And here I was feeling all sad.

Seriously though, I am ready to let go of everything. Everything but my hair dresser. I just LOVE her! Is it wrong to kidnap, wait no, hijack, uh, invite my hairstylist to travel with us? I’d even turn the Toad into a temporary chicken-coop for her beloved little egg-layers!

I went in to see her yesterday, for a final root touch up and a special panel of purple on my underneath layer. You can only see the purple if I pull my hair up, otherwise it only peeks out on occasion. 

(I call it my quiet rebellion)…

I was SO excited to get to see Cheri again. I got in the lift, went up to the second floor, opened the Salon door and I have NEVER sucked in so much air in one gasp as I did at that moment! (Diminished lung capacity my tooshy!) 

The whole place had been cleaned out, down to the bare cement! No paint! No flooring! What the heck!!! Cheri and the posse had been kidnapped! Of course that was just a fleeting, first thought.

They must have moved! Had I really been gone that long? This place could not have been anymore dismantled unless they had knocked out the sheet rock as well.  

I went back to my car to ring Cheri and left a voice mail message. I looked the Salon up on-line and they were still listed at the same address. So I rang Cheri again, and again, got her answering machine. Left another message, almost in tears. I was feeling very, I don’t know – like I had just walked into a Twilight Zone episode!

Meanwhile, Cheri, at her NEW LOCATION was waiting for me, and getting annoyed with her phone as it kept buzzing and buzzing (me calling) as she was trying to set-up for my color appointment.

Long story short; the original salon owner had given the staff a two week notice and Cheri was now working at another salon just down the road. As this happened a few months ago, she assumed I knew. 

Once she got annoyed enough to pick up her phone and see who was pestering her, we got things sorted out and I was at the new salon in no time. Seeing those big, blue smiling eyes brought me back to happy. Plus, the new salon is lovely! Much better for her, perfect fit.

And can I just say, I don’t just love Cheri because she does such a good job on my hair. I love her because she is one of those rare people who, especially in this industry, does not look at you like an ATM; pushing product and costly unneeded treatments at you, trying to see how much they can pull out from any one visit. 

Cheri cares about each of her clients on a personal level. She has the amazing gift of remembering the most minute details of your life. Okay, so maybe she forgets slight details of her own life, such as she is working at a new salon…lol. But honestly, she makes you feel cared about and it is not a pretense. It is just who she is. 

SO, with that being said, if you are in this area, and are looking for a great haircut or style, you would be wise to treat yourself to Ch­­eri. She is a jewel.

Here is a pic of her business card at the new location. ­

Cheri darling, I love and miss you already. 

See you when I pass back through!

We are currently driving down LA’s bumpy freeway; are these craters or sink holes?!! And are on our way to the Newport Beach area where my half-sister is in a nursing facility. Her health is fading and I am fortunate to be in the area so that I can spend time with her. 

Hence, (yep, I said hence . . . I am practicing my grown-up words as of late since they keep telling me I am getting old) – our meandering trip to Arizona has been postponed and depending on my sister’s situation, may end up being more of a dash than a meander.

Life and death. 

They call it the Circle of Life. I feel like it is more of a scribble.

It is getting late. After spending the evening with my sister, my heart felt like it had been wrung out like a rag. It is such a helpless feeling to watch someone you love, suffer.

Mark arrived just as I kissed her goodnight. She was finally drifting off into a peaceful sleep after receiving her evening meds. 

As neither of Mark or I had eaten dinner, we stopped at Norm's on the way back to the rig. I cannot believe, in almost a decade of living in CA, we have never been to a Norm's, but there you are. 

 

I like Norm's. It was like mom cooked a comfort meal, just when I needed it most.

Tomorrow I get to spend the day with Jeri. I'll be able to see what her days are like, how her attitude is, check out the quality of her care. I'll pack a DVD player and some fun movies, if she is up for it. I have great memories of the two of us staying up all night, watching Golden Girls or I Love Lucy and seeing her slap her knee in hysterics as she laughed so hard - which of course made me laugh all the harder.

Please keep Jeri in your prayers. Pray for peace, comfort and a heart that is right with God.

Now I will leave you with one of my biggest pet peeves, just because. And guys, you can stop reading here, because you just won't get this:

I hate it when you are in a public restroom, place a paper toilet seat cover atop the toilet seat, go to sit down and "whoosh" the automatic flush goes off and pulls the seat cover down with a flush, just as your bare tooshy lands on an uncovered, God-only-knows-what-germs-are lurking, toilet seat. 

Just had to get that off my chest. It's been a tough day.