The Off Ramp to Adventure

Sunday, September 18 was our last real day of vacation, a “last hoorah” if you will, before getting back to work. I phoned Dad that morning to remind him to drink lots of water in preparation for his surgery the next morning. He seemed in good spirits with no apparent anxiety. We lazed the morning away until hunger drew us over to the brewpub at the Main Street Casino. We really like the menu there and usually patronize it on each trip through Vegas. I settled in at a Lord of The Rings slot machine while Randie took his favorite spot at the end of the Let It Ride table. When we met up to go home for dinner (leftover risotto…yum) and compared notes, we both had bragging rights. For us both to be on a winning streak at the same time is a much too rare occurrence. With us both feeling the high of Vegas good luck, it wasn’t long after we’d eaten and walked the dog that we were right back at it again. As good fortune would have it, our luck didn’t abandon us during the dinner hour, and we went to bed that night none the poorer for our visit to Vegas.

We left Las Vegas at 9 a.m. Monday morning heading for home. Randie reminded me of the time difference as we got rolling on the freeway, and I put an anxious call into my Mom to see how the surgery had gone. An hour later, she phoned to tell us that Dad’s bladder resection was done and he had come through the surgery with flying colors. I agreed to put a call into the surgeon to get the lowdown on what was found and, relieved, hung up to pass the news on to Randie. Dad was released after the recovery room to go home with a catheter which he would need to wear until his follow up visit the next week. Unlike the SLC VA, they didn’t give my Mom instructions to deflate the internal balloon and try to remove it at home. This didn’t go well last time, so as inconvenient and uncomfortable as the bag is, it may actually be his preference to wait for the next doctor visit to get rid of it. Randie chose a slightly different driving route than the one I’d used on my trips to SLC via Vegas earlier in the year. We drove through Kingman and the tiny desert town of Yucca where we laughed as we passed the Honolulu Club. It was a large whitewashed square stucco building that wore a coat of paint that was new back in the 50s. Sitting atop the roof was a billboard sized sign that read Honolulu Club in badly faded blue letters. Although there was no plywood on the windows, the empty parking lot made us wonder if the locals had figured out the deception. We stopped for lunch in Lake Havasu City, taking a row of parking spaces in an empty part of the mall. While Randie kept the A/C running, I went in to Penny’s and picked out a birthday gift for my Dad. I bought him a zip up sweater in a soft but heavy cable knit. The man is always cold. They didn’t have an XL, but it looked big enough so I took a chance. While at the VA for his pre-op visits the week before, he had learned that the six foot frame of his youth had shrunk to 5’10.5”. So in the card I wrote that , being 5’10”now, I figured the large would fit him fine. Driving into Quartzsite, our heads were swiveling as we looked for any changes since our departure last May. New businesses? Closed businesses? The biggest change was the town’s beautification project . We were greeted at the town’s border by an attractive Welcome to Quartzsite sign, a prelude to the nice landscaping that was now lining our side of Central Blvd. The new plantings, rock ground cover, curbing, and benches have really cleaned up the look of the street, benefiting our park greatly. The park looked good with only a few weeds to show our neglect. Our Summer manager replaced the roof on the bathroom building after it was damaged by a microburst, but other than that, it all looked the same. We parked beside the Hippo, our name for our mobile home, and began carting armloads of stuff out of the RV. The heat, around 105, was oppressive to our unaccustomed bodies, and it wasn’t long before we wilted and quit. Before giving up though, Randie got the TV working for the premier of Two and a Half Men that night, and we removed all the silver insulation from the windows so it didn’t feel like a cave. Randie adjusted the thermostat in the Hippo so that, by the following day, it would drop to a life supporting temperature, and, after the show premier, we spent one last night in the RV.

Still operating on our vacation schedule, we got a late start on Tuesday. This was a mistake in the desert where the early morning hours are the best time to do work. We worked through the heat as we carried boxes and bags of stuff from the RV to Hippo. Every few trips, I would stop to move clothes through the washer dryer process. It seemed like a lot of stuff, a lot more than I remembered transferring into the RV in May, but then I realized that I had purchased quite a bit with the park in mind during our travels. After finishing off leftovers in the air conditioning, Randie headed off to a town meeting and I kept going on the RV. By late afternoon, I had all the clothes done, and all the food and my bathroom stuff repositioned in the house. As I relaxed and Randie was putting away the clean clothes I’d placed on the bed for him, there was a “Thud”. My wooden closet rod had broken under the weight of clothes and my wardrobe, with hangers poking out everywhere, lay in an elongated pile covering the floor of the closet. I teasingly accused Randie of hanging his clothes on my side of the closet. He fervently denied this but I claimed to know better. Without the strength to deal with it, I convinced him to let it all lie there until the next morning’s caffeine kicked in. While we adjusted to the heat of our new surroundings, so did Morgan. His desire for going outside was greatly diminished. When we take him out now, he finds a place to conduct business much more quickly and holds onto his water longer. As soon as he finishes, he makes a beeline back for the front door and stands patiently with his nose touching the edge of the door like a punished kid facing the corner. Gone are the days of that disappointed look when it was time to head back to the RV at the end of a walk. I have to remind myself that he is dealing with this heat while wearing a fur coat.

After our first night of sleep back in the Hippo, we awoke early Wednesday morning, determined to get the RV “off the grid” and moved into it’s slot in the M section of the park under cover. I made a few final transfers of office and gaming supplies and all the purchases stored under the bed, shaking my head in disbelief with every trip. By mid day, I was in the office sorting through paperwork, making piles, and setting priorities for the coming days. Faxing paperwork back and forth to the phone company to restart the DSL reminded me of the need to replace the cheap ailing piece of equipment we inherited. When I turned it on, it made a protesting clunking sound for a full minute before quieting down to business. I had to send each of the five pages through as individual faxes from the glass since the document feeder broke near the end of last season. Thinking it was TDS calling to say they hadn’t gotten all they needed, I was surprised to find myself speaking to my Dad’s surgeon that afternoon, returning my call. With the pathology report in, he was happy to report that the tumor was still considered T1 stage, not penetrating the muscle providing access to the bloodstream. They went fairly deep into the lining to try to get it all, but since it has grown back already once before, the doctor recommended BCG, a type of immunotherapy follow up drug. These weekly treatments will take more than two months to finish so our hope is that the family will be able to arrive in Q-town by Christmas. Kurt has to be in SLC for a heart biopsy in mid December, so the tentative plan is that they would just keep heading south from there and Dad would have any follow up visits handled by the Phoenix VA. Since Randie had given my car the once over the previous day, I took the Toyota out for a spin after lunch. I was doubtful that the windshield washer fluid, if it hadn’t all evaporated, would be able to cut through the think layer of dirt on the glass, but it did surprisingly well. With my vision restricted to only the area cleaned by the blades, I visited the post office to mail Dad’s gifts and pick up mail. The armload of mail I walked out with had accumulated over the past two weeks when our forwarding order had expired. When I got home, Randie invited me to join him on a run to Parker to pick up a prescription and do some grocery shopping. We transferred the Clive Cussler audiobook over to the Trailblazer and used the travel time to talk about park plans and continue the story we’d started. I looked at fax/printer/copiers while we were at Walmart and swung through the garden department too, looking for half whiskey barrel planters for my newly conceived Whiskey a Grow Grow program. Randie found the nerve to operate the BBQ in the heat that evening, and we enjoyed burgers for dinner along with the last of Uncle Don’s heirloom tomatoes. My favorite was the one called Bull’s Heart. It was ovoid shaped, more like a huge roma than a standard round tomato, with a marbleized red and cream outer skin.

We finally finished emptying the RV on Thursday morning. Randie phoned me that he was over on Washington Street behind the park, and I walked across the bridge to the M section to help guide him into the covered stall. Getting it into the sweet spot where the slides have room to extend but the shed door will open took a few attempts, but after so many years now, we work together pretty well. He understands all my hand gestures as he watches me in his mirrors, and when he doesn’t, I have a special gesture for that…just kidding. I spent the rest of the day in the office, processing the mail and organizing reservations more than anything. Randie worked outside until the heat drove him in to his desk. Feeling the heat, I put together huge salads with the new veggies we’d filled the fridge with the day before and we ate a couple two pointers we’d been storing since our last Costco visit.

Friday and Saturday our routine of early start with an early quit seemed to cement. I continued in the office while Randie continued outside trimming and watering trees, fixing the gate, covering the RV tires, etc. The lights which illuminate our street sign were not working and he managed to get them fixed. Only a week to go before the See You In October banner that hangs below the sign would be coming down. Kay paid me a visit in the office on Saturday, bringing me up to date on the town’s political discontent, a civic soap opera to be sure. I learned that The Dirty Bird had closed and reopened while Best Mexican had closed with no plans to reopen. This left the town with only the Grubsteak, the Main Street Eatery, and the new place on Main (name?) for restaurant choices this summer. Of course, there are numerous fast food choices as well. We were glad to hear the Mountain Quail (the dirty bird as we call it) had opened it’s doors again and made plans to do our Sunday breakfast there.

On Sunday, September 25th, we enjoyed our first breakfast of the season at Mountain Quail. Karen was there to wait on us, looking slimmer than the last time we’d seen her, and handed us new menus. The back room had been re-boothed and, we’re told, the kitchen equipment was all upgraded during the summer. On the way home, we called my Dad and sang happy birthday to him over the phone. He turned 87 today, and it is such a blessing to have him still around at this age. On our way home, we detoured into a visual tour of the town, driving through streets on both sides of the freeway, noticing new signs and minor changes since May. As we drove back on Main, we saw a new Welcome to Quartzsite stone sign, a twin to the one we’d passed a few days back entering town on Hwy 95. We also passed Paul Winer, the town’s rather famous frustrated nudist, riding his bike in nothing but a thong. Ahhhhh….it’s good to be home.

This ends the summer blog for this year. As my loyal readers know, I blog only during our summer “adventures”, not having the time to keep it up year round when business get’s in the way of fun. Please check back next May when we hit the scenic road again to escape the desert heat. A Hui Ho

Without TV on Sunday, Sept 11th, we missed all the programming aimed at remembering the 10 year anniversary of the terrorist attacks. We were in Germany ten years ago enjoying a Globus bus tour of the alps and surrounding areas. As our group entered the lobby of that night’s hotel, we saw video of the first tower being struck on an overhead TV tuned to BBC. It looked like a movie scene until the commentator broke in to talk. We huddled in my parents’ room all evening watching whatever coverage we could find in English. The next day when we loaded onto the bus, we learned that the airports had all been closed in the U.S. and our tour group’s ability to get home became the talk of the day. By the time the tour ended, about ten days later, the airports were open and we experienced shocking security in each airport we traveled through. In Frankfurt, we were questioned at numerous checkpoints, and at one spot, entered a bulletproof glass room one by one for a pat-down while machine gun toting guards watched from the catwalk above the room. Talk about fish in a barrel.

We enjoyed breakfast at a little spot called Perry’s in Ketchum, a delightful bakery with wonderful food. We bestowed on it the title of The Dirty Bird of Sun Valley. This brought to mind that it wouldn’t be long at all before we were back in Quartzsite heading to our old Sunday morning haunt. Once back at the RV, Randie went to work on cleaning the windshield while I worked on the blog. Checking facebook while online later, I chuckled at a friend’s unique 9/11 posting. He wrote: Science flies men to the moon. Religion flies men into buildings. As the hours passed, a thunder storm moved into the area and we decided to forego our plans to investigate town more thoroughly and stayed close to home, watching smoke rise from a nearby hillside fire started by the lightning. Randie made a Mexican casserole using the fresh tamales we’d bought from an old man selling from a carried cooler in Emmett a few days ago and combined with the tacquitos in our freezer, a jar of salsa, and I don’t know what else. What I do know is that it was wonderful.

As we left for Boise on Monday morning, Randie experienced trouble getting the RV into gear, a problem we’d thought had been fixed earlier in the Summer. Once in gear, everything is fine, but each restart brings with it the anxiety that the engine may not be cajoled into gear. We got in touch with the Allison Transmission people in Boise by cell phone and moved to Plan C, calling my family to let them know we wouldn’t be coming back to Emmett after all. We arrived at Allison just moments before the head mechanic was to leave for a week of vacation. As we thanked our lucky stars, he diagnosed our problem and scheduled work to be done in the morning to replace the wiring causing our problem. We checked in at the Mountain View RV park around the block, unhooked the toad, and made a run to Costco for two pointers after enjoying some of the Leavenworth cheese we are still working on.

We awoke early on Tuesday, dropping off the RV at Allison around 7 a.m. We enjoyed a nice breakfast at Cracker Barrel, wasting time playing dominoes and lingering over our meal. Still needing to kill time until our scheduled meet up with my family at lunchtime, we headed for the shopping mall after dropping off Morgan at doggy daycare. Randie dropped me off for a couple hours of wandering around Macy’s while he took the toad through a carwash and picked up concert tickets at BSU. Right on time, he picked me up out front at 11:30 and we headed to Subway where we found the folks and Kurt. While we ate and played dominoes, we discussed the movie choices, deciding as a group to diverge from our routine and visit a theater downtown where Contagion was playing. We followed the folks to Barnes and Noble where they dropped Kurt for the day (Borders being closed at this point) and we found a shady parking spot for the toad. Randie took the wheel of the Lincoln and dropped us all off at the downtown theater while he went in search of a parking spot, not an easy quest in that area. Dad doesn’t do long distances on foot very well, so the drop off plan usually is the best if there aren’t any handicap parking stalls nearby. Before turning off the cell phone and entering the movie, I coordinated with our CPA to fax the signature pages he needed back right away to my friend Carrie working very close by at BSU. If he couldn’t file our business return by 9/15, we were looking at a $400 fine, even though we didn’t owe anything. It was coming down to the wire. The movie was wonderful, entertaining, and thought provoking. Not for the germ squeamish out there though. Howie Mandell should definitely NOT see this movie. Everyone else…GO. After Randie brought the Lincoln around like our own personal chauffeur, we buzzed over to BSU where Carrie led us upstairs to a fax machine to do our paperwork to and fro. By this time, Randie was beginning to be concerned about getting to the Allison dealer by 5 to get the RV, so we dropped him there with the understanding that I would come back and get him at the RV Park in the toad, and we would all meet up for dinner. This would have worked well, except that Randie had the keys for the toad in his pocket. After getting back to the mall where the toad was parked, my folks heard my audible moan as the situation fully dawned on my dull brain. I tried to call Randie to tell him what he probably already had realized, but that didn’t work because his cell was inside the locked toad. Can you spell fiasco? We left Dad to relax at the bookstore and headed out to where we knew we’d find the RV. We found Randie watching TV, aware that we’d eventually come for him and having no way to call us. As we fought the rush hour traffic back to the bookstore, we kicked ourselves and swore that we’d get another Trailblazer key for my purse. The dinner conversation at Sizzler that evening was mostly centered on the movie which had made an impact on all of us. It was interesting to see how civilization took a giant step backward temporarily, but unlike in the Alas Babylon post-nuclear war book, much of the world’s infrastructure (electricity, government, flowing water) remained in tact. These kinds of scenarios make one think that the Mormons got it right with the 6 month supply recommendation. And the more prepared you are than your neighbors, the more ammo you need to protect what you have. When we finally got back to the RV that night, we were feeling as tired as Morgan looked after his day at The Doghouse.

I met my parents at the VA on Wednesday morning for the four appointments my Dad had scheduled back to back. In addition to the x-ray and EKG, we met with the anesthesiologist and the Physician’s Assistant (PA) to the surgeon. The appointments all went smoothly. We received pre-op instructions from the PA, and Dad shocked the EKG tech when she asked if I was his daughter. He replied, “Yes, but she’s not my favorite daughter.” I rolled my eyes. He loves to shock people with his sense of humor. I remember when my folks arrived for their first meeting with my future in-laws and were told dinner would be ready shortly by my future mother in law. My Dad turned to my Mom and said straightfaced, “And you said they wouldn’t feed us!”. Feeling good about the progress with the VA, I headed back to the RV, which Randie had relocated during my absence to the Cummins lot. He joined me in the car, and I gave him the medical meeting update while we drove to Red Robin to join my folks for a farewell lunch. The guys split two games of dominoes with us which seemed like a nice way to end things. As we said our goodbyes at the car and hugged, I reiterated the PA’s instructions to Dad. In the car, Randie gave me the good news that he was able to get tickets for the dinner event prior to the Zac Brown Band Concert that he had scored tickets for this past week, with the help of our Kona friend Barry. We worked back at the RV until it was time to head over to Carrie and John’s. They are always making us dinner, and we felt they should let us take them out to a sushi dinner (which they like as much as we do) before we leave town. When we arrived, along with Morgan who would play with Mollie while we were at dinner, Carrie was in the process of making Painkillers, complete with the nutmeg sprinkles on top. Our designated driver, John, took a pass, and we all sat chatting for an hour with our frothy drinks and sporting rabid looking foamy moustaches before we headed off to their favorite sushi place. Edamame was followed by miso soup and salad, and finally by numerous creative creations from the chef until we finally said “uncle”. Randie and I overindulged a bit, knowing it would be quite a while before we had another shot at good sushi. If you think it is tough to find good sushi in Boise, you should see the lack of these restaurants in the desert. John drove us by the Taco Bell Arena, site of Thursday night’s concert, while Carrie pointed out her “secret” parking spots near the campus. They generously offered to dogsit for us during the concert so that Morgan wouldn’t have to hold his bladder for 5 hours.

Randie washed the windshield Thursday morning, and, feeling that our traveling season was nearing a close, I dug out the wood conditioner and began to clean the woodwork which covers most of the coach’s interior space. I’ve been taking on this task every year since we bought the coach. It takes the better part of a day to rub the Molly Moppins product into every wood surface of cabinetry and trim, but the results are worth it. With the arid desert climate that we now spend 7 months a year living in, the application is more important than ever. The day seemed to slowly creep by, but eventually 4 p.m. arrived and we loaded up Morgan for the drive to Carrie’s. We put him in the backyard with his kennel, and, with Mollie to play with, he didn’t even notice us leave. Arriving so early at the stadium as we did, in order to attend the supper club event, we decided to scope out the area of the parking lot set aside for the band’s trucks and the meet and greet event. We found a spot that didn’t appear to have any signage banning our use, and circumnavigated the big semi trucks the band travels in to get to Will Call. The trucks were all shiny, looking like they belonged on a show room floor rather than sitting in a lot. As we came around the end of one truck, we saw a man polishing the side of the next one. Randie couldn’t help but stop and talk to the guy, noticing that the trucks used the same Bridgestone tires that had just been mounted on our coach. A little later, with red paper bands on our wrists, we were led with a group of similarly braceleted people to a patio dining area around the far side of the stadium. We were given cans of Landshark Lager, one of ZBB’s sponsors, and seated at long folding tables. Chef Rusty, who had appeared recently on the Today show with Zac, talked to us about the food we were about to eat and introduced our entertainment for this event: a ZBB band member and the concert’s opening act. Accompanied by all the Landshark we could drink, we enjoyed the meal as we listened to wonderful music, seated only a few feet from our entertainment. We finally left when they started breaking down the tables, slow to get the hint. Our seats for the concert were excellent, and we watched the stadium fill as the opening acts warmed the crowd. When Zac and the band took the stage, the roar that erupted was evidence that the arena was at near capacity. The concert was great. There were all the songs I’d expected to hear and quite a few new ones as well. The largest crowd reaction came with their rendition of The Devil Went Down To Georgia. ZBB has an extremely talented fiddle player who bows, plucks, and even strums it like a guitar at times. His abilities were showcased during this number as he and Zac, playing the guitar, volleyed musical salvos at one another. Being in an “unauthorized” section of the parking lot, we felt quite lucky as we followed the departing unfilled ambulances out to the street after the concert without any wait at all. Soon, we were tiptoeing into John and Carrie’s, trying not to wake up the family as we left a bag of coffee with a thank you note and retrieved our sleeping dog.

It was “Slides In at 7” on Friday morning, and we hit the open road for the long drive to Ely, Nevada. Along the way, we stopped at Subway to take advantage of the 2 for 1 special they were running nationwide that day. Two footlongs for $5 was a great deal, and, feeling we had scored a bargain, we happily put the extra sandwich in the fridge for the next day. When we finally arrived in Ely, we found the Hotel Nevada Casino’s free parking lot across the street almost full. The Silver State Classic Challenge car event was, unbeknownst to us, scheduled for the next day, and the lot was full of muscle cars and RVers pulling car trailers. With the help of an accommodating car enthusiast, we were able to squeeze in with enough room to open the slides and not have to unhook the toad, a feat that appeared unlikely when we first glanced over the situation. As dark clouds gathered, Morgan got a walk in, and Randie watched a bit of the car parade passing by. We walked over to the casino after dinner in the rain and spent some time on the penny slots before calling it a day.

With the time change giving us another hour, we arose earlier than expected on Saturday and got underway. As we slowly moved from the lot to the street, traversing the nasty dip in front of us at an angle to minimize the scraping of the towbar behind us, the chassis twisted enough to loosen the windshield enough to allow accumulated rainwater to trickle in onto the dash. As Randie navigated the small streets, I grabbed a towel and began mopping up. Seeing that there was still a bit of leakage, I puddled the towel around the dash mounted fans in the center where they could continue to catch any water. Add re-sealing the windshield to our list of to-dos. We made a stop mid-day to eat our free subway sandwich and then another stop to fill up on $3.73 fuel, making it into Vegas by mid afternoon. We parked at the Main Street Station for $19 per night, a couple dollars higher than the rate we had paid in May because they had changed to their Fall/Winter rates. After checking in and getting settled, we headed out to see our friends Thom and Shari in Lake Las Vegas. As we entered their home, Morgan strained at his leash with all his strength, to hurry us inside so he could see their chocolate lab Mocha. While the dogs played, we visited with them and their houseguest Uncle Don. Don and Shari were leaving the next day for a roadtrip to Mt. Rushmore, and we gave them suggestions for the trip, pulling up the old blog entries from a few years back to refresh our memories. Shari wow-ed us, as usual, with shrimp risotto and a Caprese salad using some of Uncle Don’s vine ripened heirloom tomatoes. And, since the three of them all had travel plans, we lucked out with taking home most of the leftovers to enjoy it all again later. It was a wonderful evening as we savored a great meal and shared with each other the events of the summer. We left with hopes of seeing them in the park over Thanksgiving this year. Next week, we will be back at work in the park, and I went to sleep that night making mental lists of all the things that need to be done as soon as I am back in my office.

We enjoyed our Sunday morning breakfast on Sept 4th at the Blue Ribbon, missing the CBS Sunday Morning Show in favor of the early bird special. When we got back, my parents headed off to Boise to look at used cars while I changed into my weed killing clothes and donned my plastic glove. I made three treks out to the road with the red wagon before finishing my chore for this year. Kurt was back from church in time for lunch and the three of us gathered around the dining room table in the house to eat leftovers and hear about the BSU game the night before. Kurt is a big fan. I spent the afternoon blogging, quitting around dinner time to rest my brain for a bit. As I approached the house, I found Randie manning the grill. Mom dug a pink Frisbee out of the shed and we set to playing, hoping Morgan would leap for it as it passed near him. Although he loves to chomp on it once it hits the grass, which happened frequently due to our lack of skill, he couldn’t grasp the idea of leaping for it, (pun intended). Randie looked on from the BBQ where he grilled up steaks until we were too tuckered to continue. We finished off the last of the big batch of corn on the cob we’d bought from a local farmer earlier in the week and paired it up with steak and Randie’s baked homemade fries laced with Slap Ya Mama spice. We lit the candles on the German Chocolate Cake one last time for Randie that night and sang Happy Birthday again, better late than never. We got three birthdays covered with one cake and we thought that was pretty good – especially Mom who has to make them. We only played one game of cards and then excused ourselves early so I could get the blog done on time.

Randie finished washing and waxing the final side of the RV on Monday while I worked on laundry and finding campgrounds for our excursion planned for later in the week. We joined the family at lunch time and then headed back to the coach to get ready for our trip to Boise. We arrived at Carrie and John’s, along with Morgan, around 5:00. They had enjoyed the day off, the last holiday of the summer, and fixed us a wonderful salmon dinner. While we talked, drank champagne, and ate around the patio table, Morgan and their dog Mollie ran and played. Once dinner was finished, they broke out a game called Apples to Apples. I had seen this game for years on store shelves, but was unfamiliar with how it was played. We laughed quite a bit, and I could see it’s value as a party game. Knowing it was a school/work night, we said goodnight around 9 and made the drive back to Emmett with Morgan sleeping on my lap.

Although the whole fam damly headed to Boise on Tuesday, we took our own car with plans to stay late in town to play games. While we ran errands, the folks took Kurt to a doctor appointment, and we all met at the predesignated time and particular Subway for lunch together. We separated again after that on diverse missions, reuniting again at Costco for shopping and two pointers and then at the movies. We saw My Idiot Brother for lack of anything better on the marquee. It was better than we expected, coaxing some real laugh out loud moments out of us. I’d give it a B- and suggest you wait for the DVD. My parents picked up Kurt after the movie and we rejoined them for the final time that day at Café Ole. Kurt has celebrated every birthday, not always on his actual birthday mind you, for the past 20+ years at Café Ole. The wait staff gather around the table, put a sombrero on his head, and sing a snappy latin version of Happy Birthday. A Polaroid photo is then taken for an instant memento. My folks have all these pictures of Kurt and, in a spooky Dorian Grey kind of way, the guy hasn’t really changed. Sure, his mustache is now pretty gray, but little else. That night, however, our waitress apologetically explained that the old Polaroid had finally given up the ghost and the owners had chosen not to try to replace it with anything more modern. They still sang to Kurt as he looked out from under the brim of a giant sombrero, but the chronological collection of pictures has stalled at last year’s age 48. I took a picture with my cell phone to make him feel better, but since I have no idea how to send it anywhere, it is of little use. We added our to-go boxes to the stack being bagged for my family and said our goodbyes in time to pick up Morgan at doggy daycare before the 7 PM deadline. He slept, exhausted from his day of play, as Randie and I played games at All About Games, joining the Tuesday night boardgamers. We played the new game I’d just received, Betrayal at House on the Hill, with a couple people who were already familiar with the game, giving us the benefit of their experience. It was fun, and we left that night thinking that I had made a good choice when choosing the game for my birthday last week.

On Wednesday morning, I gave my family a synopsis of my conversation with the V.A. doc who called me back the night before. Dad’s assigned primary care doc is on an indefinite leave of absence, whatever that is, and this very helpful man is stepping in. He agreed to follow up with the cardiac guy to get the ball rolling on Dad’s needed surgery and said that, in his view, the test results showed no decrease in his heart health since the last two surgeries in SLC. While I cleaned the house and bathed the dog, Randie worked on restoring the cabinet that had come off the wall during our slideout accident in Cascade Locks. Once he was done, you couldn’t tell it had ever been dislocated. I am so grateful to have such a handy guy to fix my mistakes. We had lunch with the family and time for one game of Oh Hell before Dad’s CPA arrived to go through his taxes. He wanted us to be in on the conversation and meet the accountant. He also showed me where he keeps his ledgers and other things I will need when he is gone. As much as I know these conversations are better had than not, I still don’t like having them. When I got back to the rig and checked email, I found I had my own tax issue. Our CPA in Phoenix needed our Federal tax number to finish up our stuff. Not having it with me, I spent an hour in queue with the IRS to get the information he needed. That ought to make the next cell phone bill a bit scary. I also emailed our logo artwork to the Idaho Independent Senior News for an ad we are placing in the Oct/Nov issue of this paper and the Montana sister publication. We picked up an issue in the lobby of the hospital and decided it was targeted at our demographic and, a real bonus, has an RV section. I had been looking for this type of publication with an affordable advertising rate for a while, so we were excited to accidentally come across it while waiting for Kurt to get labwork done for his recent heart transplant. We had dinner with the family and the Heimbucks followed by games that evening.

Randie dropped the toad off for an oil change Thursday morning and then met up with the rest of us at McDonalds for coffee. The girls won all three games of dominoes that morning which put the guys in a disgruntled mood. They can’t use the “we took a dive” excuse this far past my birthday. When we got home, we hooked up the toad and said a temporary goodbye to the family. Plan A this summer was to have done another loop to the west covering Yosemite, the Sequoias, Jack’s Grill in Redding, and meeting up with more friends. With wanting to keep on top of Dad’s situation, we moved to Plan B: a last hoorah of sightseeing with a small loop through Stanley, the Sawtooth National Forest, and Sun Valley. With so many years of my youth spent in Idaho, it is surprising even to me that I had never been to Sun Valley. We made our first stop at the Longbranch Saloon for lunch in Horseshoe Bend where we’d stopped earlier in the summer. The food was as good as last time, and we put our leftovers in the fridge looking forward to having the rest for dinner in the boonies somewhere. The boonies turned out to be a primitive no fee camping area in the Sawtooth Forest alongside the Payette River’s south fork. We could see only one other rig from ours, so it felt pretty private. We had made a stop at a ranger station once we entered the area, and one of the gals there told us about the spot, identifying it by milemarker 80 and assuring us we could find a spot large enough to accommodate the RV with the toad still attached. As we walked the area enjoying the pine scented air and listening to the river nearby, Morgan sniffed his lungs out enjoying all the foreign smells. Our only visible neighbor had, it turned out, a Brittany spaniel which Morgan made friends with. We let them play off leash while we soaked in our surroundings and Randie set up a small low solar light outside by the steps. With no TV, let alone cell phone coverage, we listened to the vampire book, Breaking Dawn, that we had started earlier in the week until bedtime. I asked Randie to make sure the door was locked before we turned in.

As I walked the dog Friday morning, bundled up against the cold, I admired the view of the Sawtooths we had from the river’s edge. There was a smoky haze in the air from what we were to later learn was a nearby forest fire. The sun’s rays pierced the smoky veil in visible shafts and shimmered off the river in a blinding fashion. We packed up mid morning and continued through Stanley, a small town, delayed only slightly by roadwork and forest fire warnings. Given our success the night before, we decided to try a national recreation area (NRA) campground at Redfish Lake. The campground hosts, Del and Irene, were camped at the entrance and ready to assist. They pointed us toward a site they thought we’d like, and we did a drive-by looping the campground to scope it all out. We made our choice, and, while Randie got us settled and set up the little doorstep solar lights, I headed back to pay the $16 for our one night in the no-hookup site. While settling up, I noticed the tole painting project Irene had on her picnic table. This led to an animated discussion about painting, favorite designers, and rumors that Creative Painting in Vegas may be taking over the national association’s convention in the future. Our site faced the lake with a fire ring, metal picnic table, and BBQ stand. It was a level site with a groomed area at the rear for tents. Inspecting our new digs, McGyver, I mean Randie, found an overlooked metal tent stake in the ground and scooped it up. With a gleam in his eye, he was imagining uses for this new item before he’d fully stood up again. With cell service again, we returned calls and took care of business between walks through the area. I was able to follow up with Dad’s doctor who gave me the good news that a surgery had been schedule for the 19th following a slew of meetings and exams set up for the 14th. Morgan’s thirst for the great outdoors was unquenchable. No more than fifteen minutes after his last foray, he’d wimper to go out again. Randie rigged up his leash outside using, you guessed it, the tent stake. He could reach the doorstep mat, but not the hazards of the road in front of our coach. While I typed away at the laptop, I spied a deer entering our campsite. Surprised, I said, “Randie, look out the driver’s side windows!” At that moment, Morgan either spotted her from under the RV or smelled her, because he barked….a rare occurrence for him. The doe was out of sight in two strong leaps. We guess she was heading to the lake to drink, having grown accustomed to campers but not so accustomed to dogs. In his attempt to get to the intruder, Morgan had wedged the length of his leash so completely under the front tire that we had to start the RV and back up to get it out from under the tread. Randie made the same dish he’d prepared for appetizers in Cascade Locks a couple weeks ago; thawed crab atop cocktail sauce coated crusty bread with melted cheese on top. Still without TV and internet, we played a couple games of Carcassonne, splitting the match, before turning off the lights.

Conscious of the peacefulness our neighbors were enjoying, we made coffee by boiling water and using the French press rather than starting the generator. We enjoyed a long walk through the area, taking in the views one more time, before bidding farewell to the lake around ten. The drive continued to overwhelm us with rugged nature, jagged mountains, clear rivers, and vast meadows. By about noon, we arrived at The Meadows campground in Ketchum which sits on the doorstep of Sun Valley resort. The manager was a talkative fellow who ranted about the RV park owners the entire time we checked in, then followed us outside and continued to fill the air with noise while we unhooked the toad. Then he asked us if we had any pets. After telling him we had one dog, he went on to tell us how he disliked dogs. In a whiney sing-song voice, he mimicked “But they’re like our babies”. I couldn’t imagine a worse representative for the owners of the park and felt lucky that we had found such great helpers last year in Helen and Wil for our park. With strong wifi for the first time in days, I did email and played on facebook while Randie took an after lunch nap. When our stomachs started to grumble, we drove into town for dinner at the Pioneer Saloon, recommended highly by Carrie and John the previous week. The amazing steak dinners we had there helped take the sting out of missing out on Jack’s Grill in Redding this year. The dimly lit bar/restaurant is a museum of old west antiques with walls covered in horned heads, lariats, branding irons, old rifles, wild west show posters, and much more than room here allows. The walls were covered in barn wood with knotty pine tables that showed the character of decades of use. It was amazing and so was the food. Don’t miss this place if ever you find yourselves in Ketchum/Sun Valley. We saved half our meals to make room for the warm blackberry cobbler we split for dessert, and eventually left toting our boxes in awe of the meal we’d just shared. To walk off a few of the calories we’d just ingested, we dropped the boxes at the car and began exploring the town on foot. Ketchum has an old west feel produced by the architecture in view at every turn. Lots of log cabin style, red brick, and exposed timber on every street accented by flower baskets hanging from the lightposts dripping with color. Another thing that caught our eye was the abundance of large outdoor sculpture sprinkled throughout the town. My favorites included a six foot tall bicycle, a rollerskating moose, and a cowboy boot clad pink flamingo. As we made the drive back out to The Meadows, we noticed miles of the Rails to Trails bike path that the area is well known for. Indeed, biking is a major recreational endeavor in this area with bikers everywhere you look, so the path gets a lot of use no doubt. Randie gave Morgan his final walk of the evening when we returned, steering clear of the park managers’ site.

As we were getting ready to walk out the door on Sunday morning, August 28th, for breakfast, the baler came rumbling around the side of the hanger. He was as stunned to see our RV in his path to the back field as much as we were surprised to see him. We headed back in to button up the coach, unplugged, and moved to a different part of the driveway system to give him a clear path. A bit later than planned, we made it to Blue Ribbon under the wire to get the early bird special. Back home, we moved back into our spot behind the hanger and let the man know the coach would be gone tomorrow morning to get new tires so they could get out then, and that worked fine for them. When it was time for lunch, we headed toward the house. As we approached the front door, we were hit with the distinctive smell of skunk. Inside, the odor seemed just as strong as it was outside. We asked Mom if Pepper, the cat, had tangled with a skunk, but she claimed the cat didn’t smell. That had been her first thought as well. At some point after lunch, the basement door was opened off the kitchen and it became apparent that this was the source of the odor. An investigation of the basement revealed unfamiliar droppings and a few items out of place as if there had been a tussle. The basement is a cement floored room housing a couple freezers and my Dad’s wood working shop. It is also the cat’s quarters with food, litter box, toys, and a plastic draped kitty door through a basement window, obscured from view outside by bushes. Apparently a skunk found the secret door to what must have seemed a wonderful new lair, complete with food and water. At some point during the night, Pepper came home and discovered Goldilocks in her bed and all hell broke loose. How she avoided the spray is a fortunate miracle. Mom sealed up the secret door and, for the next 24 hours, watched to see if there were any new droppings or food eaten to make sure that the skunk wasn’t hiding somewhere in the basement. At lunch, Randie and I told Dad that we thought he needed to “go rogue” as a friend recently put it. We suggested that, while the VA takes their time, his cancer is growing, and he needs to seek some outside help. Mom chimed in and, feeling outnumbered, he acquiesced to our plan. Before he could change his mind, we called Stan who gave us the name of the oncologist who treated his prostate cancer, and he agreed to call Dr. Gamboa for us the next morning. As we were clearing away dinner that night, Stan came by to talk to Dad about Dr. Gamboa, and we went to bed feeling better just because we’d made the decision.

We stowed everything and unplugged the coach on Monday morning for the trip down to Les Schwab’s for the new tires we’d ordered in June. I followed Randie in the toad and once the paperwork was done, we left the RV for the day. Those of you who read the blog regularly may remember the problems we had last summer with the toad’s brakes after Randie accidentally put power steering fluid in the brake fluid well by mistake. Emmett’s Les Schwab botched the repair job which caused us considerable problems until we were able to get the dealer to redo the job in Phoenix. We negotiated a credit to reimburse us for the repairs which would go toward the big bill of new RV tires planned for this summer. As we finished lunch, Stan called with the new doc’s number and said he was waiting at his desk for our call. I made the call, and, after verbally reviewing Dad’s case, set an appointment for Thursday. He agreed to request all the records from the V.A. and my folks headed down to Fayne’s office to fax a release form back and forth to his office. Randie hitched a ride with them and was dropped off at Les Schwab to pick up the rig. When he got back, he came looking for me in the house, very excited. “You’re not gonna believe this!” “What?!” “Les Schwab wouldn’t let me pay (the balance) for the tires. They wouldn’t even let me pay for the alignment. They said they were sorry for everything we went through with the brake repair and wanted to make it up to us.” All I can say is, Wow! That is stepping up to the plate. We’ve always been fans of Les Schwab, frequently stopping at different ones on our travels to put air in the tires, but now we are even bigger fans. They also told Randie that the fellow that did the botched repair was let go not long after that for multiple mistakes like the one we experienced. Our joy was shortlived though. Not long after getting the coach reparked, Miss Lillian called with bad news. As much as I love her, I’m getting so I hate hearing from her…it’s always bad news about someone from the park. This time it was Tino Lopez, another winter resident of many years. Tino was a quiet man who always had a smile, even though he had been living with a lot of pain. He was also very creative, fashioning decorative items out of scrap metal and such. This past winter he and his wife Sue made some beautiful and fun Christmas decorations: Foot high trees stemming from a glass block, the hollow of which had been filled with little twinkly lights to match the ones wrapped through the tree. It made a beautiful accent to my office counter during the holidays.

We headed for Boise Tuesday morning, as is the family tradition. While Kurt was seeing his cardiologist, we took the opportunity to run over to Camping World. For the past few days, our RV toilet has been making a loud protesting squeal whenever flushed. Silicone spray has helped a bit, but not enough to make it go away. A call to the manufacturer told us the toilet bowl cleaner I use was to blame for wreaking havoc with the seal. Randie found the recommended seal lube while I gave Morgan a walk outside, looking at new RV’s through the chainlink fence. With Kurt back in the car, we took Morgan back to the Doghouse for a day of romping around in the a/c, grabbed a quick Subway lunch, and then headed over to Borders to drop Kurt off. Mom gave him instructions to look for Breaking Dawn, an audio book I’d requested for my birthday. They had three copies last week, but with the clearance sale, she was afraid they might be out. He dutifully parroted back the book title to her satisfaction and headed for the glass doors as she shouted “Don’t forget!” through the car window. We convinced Mom and Dad to see The Help that afternoon while we chose Columbiana from the short list of films available that we hadn’t already seen. September is generally slim pickings at the theater since all the big summer blockbusters are old news and the next wave of anticipated megahits aren’t scheduled until November/December. Columbiana was a high action revenge piece. The plot was simply a vehicle for delivering all the martial arts and stunts. Unlike most of these types of movies, the hero is a woman, if you can call a hitwoman a hero. We stopped at Walmart so Randie could buy a couple solar lights. I swear that man has a “thing” for solar lights. Then it was on to the game store so I could pick out my birthday present from Randie. Mom came in too while Dad, parked in the shade, took a nap with the windows down. They were very patient as I roamed the aisles, reading the back of box after box. I enlisted the help finally of the clerk who was able to provide first hand knowledge of many of the ones that looked most interesting. I ended up choosing one called Betrayal at House on the Hill. In this game, 3-8 players add room tiles to a haunted house, exploring the rooms as they are added. At a random point determined by the game, “the haunt” begins and one of the players, also selected randomly by the game, turns traitor. The rest of the game is the traitor and the house against everybody else with victory conditions spelled out in a booklet for each of 50 different haunt scenarios, also randomly chosen by the game. I liked the fact that every game would be different due to all the variable factors. Mom also bought a game for me called Dominion, the card game Randie and I had played for the first time earlier this summer at the Samish Island reunion. I chose Olive Garden for my birthday dinner and we had a wonderful meal before picking up Morgan for the drive home. Dad picked up the check and insisted we have dessert. Olive Garden has a great selection, including little mini ramekin sized desserts that provide a small portion for when you just want a taste of something. Offered at 3 for $5.95, we got several to share and Mom got a slice of pumpkin cheesecake which I helped her finish. Don’t know where I found the room, but birthdays are a great excuse for being piggish. I was still full when we got back to Emmett an hour later. Before crawling into bed, I took out the French braid that April had put in my hair a few days earlier so I could get a good night’s sleep. The price I pay for the fun of having my hair up is having to sleep on a pillow full of rocks – at least that’s the way it feels.

Randie closed off the bedroom to all light and noise on Wednesday, my actual birthday, when he got up. As a result, I unintentionally slept until nine. When I brushed out my unraveled hair, I looked like the cowardly lion with wavy out of control tresses. I wasted away the morning on the computer while sipping on Kona coffee with no fear of rebuke. Mom had taken Kurt to Boise for a doctor appointment, so we invited my Dad to join us at the Blue Ribbon for lunch where we played dominoes and enjoyed the best tuna melts in the world. While I continued to do very little productive work in the afternoon, Randie installed the two new solar lights he’d bought the day before. He mounted them atop roof high PVC poles to provide lighting for us after dark when we stumble back to the RV behind the hanger using only our memory as a guide. Before dinner, we walked the dog together down to the horses and stole a couple peaches off the Heimbuck’s heavily laden front yard tree on the way home. They’re no bigger than a large plum, but they pack a lot of flavor and juice. Fayne has been canning daily and has over 50 quarts now with more to go. Wednesday and Saturday are game nights for my folks and the neighbors, so we all met at the new BBQ place in Emmett for dinner to try it out. We all had a tasty meal, and the owner generously kept bringing more ribs out, free of charge, for us to try. Great salesman. Before we got our to-go boxes, he brought out a round of butter pecan ice cream for all 8 of us, saying “It must be somebody’s birthday” as he set them down. I thought someone in the group had arranged it, but Roger said the owner brings out ice cream quite frequently, free of charge, and always uses the birthday line. Everybody sang Happy Birthday to me, and we all dug into the unexpected treat. We played a few hands of Oh Hell at Fayne and Roger’s and somehow found room for a slice of fresh peach pie before heading home to leave them to their pinochle game. As we turned the corner around the hanger, the new solar lights were there to greet us.

On Thursday morning, my facebook and email inbox were full of birthday greetings from friends far and near. Randie made a trip to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for my requested birthday dinner; beef stroganoff. Since Wednesday was a family game night, we decided to postpone the family celebration by one day. After lunch, I drove Dad to Boise to meet with Dr. Gamboa, the oncologist Stan referred us to. He was generous with his time, spending over 90 minutes talking with us and explaining what he found in Dad’s file received from the V.A. We learned that he has a stage T1 tumor which means it hasn’t penetrated the muscle tissue or wall of the bladder. At least it hadn’t a month ago when the last pathology was done on it. At stage T1, spreading isn’t as much of a concern, but if it isn’t removed, it will progress to a point where the cells will have access to his bloodstream. We also learned the he had an irregular heartbeat during both previous operations and tests reveal that he has some ventricular blockage. Dr. Gamboa had no difficulty hearing this irregularity for himself with his stethoscope. He shared with us the name of a couple chemo drugs that are considered effective against this type of tumor and we left feeling smarter and relieved to finally have a clearer picture of where things stand. Dinner that night, Randie’s stroganoff, was delicious. It was followed by Mom’s German Chocolate Cake, the tradition in our family since I was a baby. I blew out the candles to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday, and then we plated up the cake and scooped the ice cream. Dad had to skip the cake because of the test planned for the next day requiring no caffeine for 24 hours prior.

The alarm went off at 5:30 Friday morning and I was on the road by 6:30, following Mom and Dad to Boise for his lexiscan at the V.A. I drove separately because I had plans to meet my friend Carrie for lunch at Art in The Park, an annual craft show in Boise. Before leaving, Randie turned the morning news on and I heard the announcer touting the Spirit of Boise balloon festival happening this weekend…. to be followed next weekend by Art in the Park. When we got to the V.A., we were directed to the basement where all the “nuclear medicine” is handled. This is a fancy way of saying radiation and x-ray. The techs put an I.V. in Dad’s arm and had him drink some water laced with something. After 30 minutes, they placed him on the table to run a test and then told him to go have breakfast and be back at 10:45. The canteen served up great breakfasts, and we passed the time with my little domino set which is always in my purse. When we got back, they took Dad into the room and strapped him to a table. The door was open and as I sat outside I could hear the tech tell him all the risks associated with the test he was about to administer. The drug he was about to shoot into Dad’s IV is designed to emulate a treadmill test, making his heart work very hard. He had a very scary and clinical bedside manner and I could just feel the impact of his words on Dad. I stood at the door looking in and got the attention of a lady tech, not the one talking. She gave me a look and gesture that said “Do you want to come in?” I nodded and she pointed to a chair near the table Dad was lying on. Mom, noticing I had disappeared into the room, joined us a minute later. They injected Dad and, other than a little stomach cramping, he felt nothing much….which is a good thing. The tech put a note in the electronic file to have the cardio doc call us with all his test results and she suggested I also put a call into the surgeon on Tuesday to stir the pot. Carrie called before I left, frantic that I was headed for Art in the Park. With everything going on, I had forgotten to call her to find out what Plan B was. We met at Boise State University in the student union building where she works. I hadn’t been back on campus since leaving after my freshman year to move to Utah. There were plenty of recognizable landmarks, but plenty had changed as well. BSU’s enrollment, I’m told, has more than tripled since I went to school there. This is a direct result of their success in the football program. We walked across the campus to another building for lunch as I pointed to different spots remembering various classes I’d had in them. A nice young twenty-something stopped to ask us if we needed help finding a building. Carrie and I had a nice visit and made plans to have dinner together next Monday with the guys. As I drove down Emmett’s main drag on my way home, I detoured for a “Huge Moving Sale”, following the signs until I was in front of a table filled small front yard. The genes I inherited from my Mom kick in from time to time when I see a sign like this and I can’t resist. I picked up a four CD set of Spanish lessons, several pads of blue line, and a scrabble game for the park The man asked for $3.50. I gave him $4 and told him to call it even. The CDs were worth over $50 and were the same set I’d had in Kona and somehow lost in transit to Arizona. Score! We had stroganoff leftovers for dinner that night, tasting better than the previous night if that’s possible. This time we lit the candles on the cake and sang to Kurt since we were not all together for his birthday last May. And this time, Dad got a piece. The girls trounced the guys at pinochle for the fourth time in a row and they claimed they took a dive for my birthday. Hmmm.

Randie spoke with Jim Grant on Saturday morning and found out that he and Yung Yung had tied the knot. The eternal bachelor no more, we hope he will be very happy. I began spraying weeds on Saturday after hearing Mom complain about those #&+@! Goatheads, a type of weed with thorns tough enough to puncture tractor tires. They have a foothold along the dirt driveway road that leads in from the street and have begun to encroach into the road, taking hold even in the middle between the tread paths. Armed with a plastic bottle that was large enough to suckle a baby elephant and a single rubber glove, Michael Jackson style, I mixed the brew of generic roundup and water. I loaded the heavy plastic bottle onto the red toy wagon and rumbled out toward the street, slowly waving my deadly magic wand at every living thing except trees. Mom had loaned me some blue rubber shoes, similar to crocs but without the holes, so I wouldn’t get poison on my feet. She is a half size smaller than I, so the shoes were rather snug. Nearly airtight actually. As I walked out on the road, it sounded like I was stepping on tiny whoopy cushions as air escaped from the shoes on every step. After five trips, I called it quits for the day. Hot and tired and quickly becoming sore, I relaxed until dinnertime. Randie spent most of the day washing and waxing a side and rear of the RV to match the front he had done the day before. He came inside the RV as I recuperated with a cold drink, visibly upset. Attempting to readjust one of the new solar lights, he had stirred up a hidden wasp nest. Like in the cartoons, a huge swarm had come out and went for his head. He ran and yelled “Incoming!” “Run Morgan!” He got stung none the less several times. The five of us piled into the Lincoln at five and headed up to Sweet, an even smaller town than Emmett, to the little restaurant there called The Triangle. Fayne and Roger were waiting for us in the parking lot when we pulled up and we all walked in together. The place serves simple fare at reasonable prices and we enjoyed doing something different than Cold Mountain for a change. When we got home, Kurt disappeared up to his room to listen to the BSU vs. Georgia game on the radio. The buzz about BSU includes a bit of grumbling from the fans in Idaho. Since moving to a more lucrative league, only three of their games this season will be televised. The rest of us played some cards, and then Randie and I excused ourselves so the others could play pinochle. As we were leaving, Kurt announced that BSU had won their first game of the season. Go Broncos!

Randie walked Morgan along a small part of the Pacific Crest Trail early Sunday, August 21st. He tells me that this trail runs from Mexico to Canada, following the Cascade Range through the northwest. We watched the CBS Morning Show together when he returned. There was a segment about board games! The reporter spoke of the rise in popularity of strategy board games such as Settlers of Catan and Ticket to Ride, both favorites of ours. By mid morning, we had buttoned down the hatches and brought in the slides. I guided Randie out of our tight quarters, and we hooked up the toad on the street. We paid the toll again as we headed over the Bridge of the Gods to resume our path along Hwy 14 ( aka The Lewis and Clark Hwy), judging the Washington side of the river as much more scenic. This put us right in the heart of Skamania County. I wondered out loud if people from Skamania are called Skamaniacs. Before long, our scenic drive beside the Columbia Gorge took us past the site of what was the country’s last operating log flume in Stevenson. We made a pitstop at a marked rest stop and read the plaques as we walked the dog around the grassy park overlooking the river below. As described by Lewis and Clark and quoted on the sign, we were transitioning from the green coastal climate to the inland brown desert at this point. Our next stop was Celilo Falls’ old location, destroyed by the creation of The Dalles Dam. The Falls had been an important fishing location for various northwest tribes who built scaffolding over the water to enable the spearing of jumping salmon. The plaque here at Wishram showed weathered photos of this activity and noted that the tribes were paid 26 million at the time of construction as compensation for the loss of salmon fishing. A much better deal than the Native Americans on Manhattan received when they traded away their land for trinkets and beads. Moving right along, we made another stop at the Maryhill Museum of Art, former home of founder Sam Hill, famous road builder in this part of the country. Have you ever heard the expression, “Where in the Sam Hill are we?” He was a real guy. We chose not to pay to enter the museum, but enjoyed the grounds filled with large modern art sculpture and then drove a little farther down the road to Stonehenge. The replica was built to scale by Sam Hill to honor the area’s fallen WWI soldiers. The structure is built just as Stonehenge, in England’s Salisbury Plain, was originally constructed, before the millennias of time took their toll. As we made the last leg of the day to Pendleton, we finished listening to The Shadow of Poe, a mystery audio book surrounding the death of Edgar Allen Poe. Randie said that instead of a Who Dunnit, it should be called a Who Cares. It was slow and dull most of the time. We ended our travels that day at the Wildhorse Casino outside of Pendleton where we spent $21 for parking with a free shuttle to take us from the RV park to the casino.

We climbed the steep grade outside Pendleton around 10 o’clock Monday morning, before the day had a chance to heat up. As we neared the top, proud that the rig had handled the climb without breaking a sweat, we popped in a new book – The Jungle by Clive Cussler, a book in the Oregon Files serial featuring our favorite hero Juan Cabrillo, aka The Chairman, head of a black ops group called “The Corporation”. As we drove through the community of Starkey, Randie shut off the book to reminisce about his childhood hunting trips to the area with friends. Fond memories of shooting at game birds and camping in a Forest Service cabin they had access to since their adult chaperone, his friend’s Dad, was an employee sent there to complete surveys. We made an early stop for lunch in anticipation of the time change coming our way in the afternoon and eventually made our way into Emmett by mid afternoon. As we penetrated the county limits, I called the folks and was glad to get Mom on the phone. I got the lowdown on Dad’s upcoming medical tests and told her that we were going to come back to Emmett earlier than planned, hoping to be of some assistance. She said that would be great and we were welcome anytime. When I told her we’d be there in about 20 minutes, she about fell on the floor. She was very happy….or bluffed well. In the two months since our last visit, the trees had regrown limbs, and we needed to do some pole sawing and drag limbs to the burn pile before we could back the rig into our normal site behind the hanger. This was hot sweaty work in the 99 degree heat, but nothing compared to working in Quartzsite last summer, so there were no complaints. After showering the grunge off, we joined them for dinner at Cold Mountain, a local eatery, for dinner and then home for a few games before bed.

On Tuesday, we all went to Boise in our trailblazer. Dad had not yet put a fresh battery in the Lincoln, so the toad was the only vehicle we could all fit inside comfortably. We dropped Morgan at the Dog House for daycare, the same place he’d been in June. He seemed very happy to be back and hardly noticed that I left, I’m sure. We did lunch as a group and then dropped Kurt off at Borders. He can spend an entire day there and be happy as a clam. When they finally shut their doors for good, he’ll have to shift his allegiance to Barnes and Noble down the street. We stopped at Costco for pantry staples, a new battery for the Lincoln, and with lunch a vivid memory, somehow found room to share 2 pointers. The matinee that day was Change Up. Randie had been wanting to see this for some time, but I had always found something else on the marquee more compelling. It turned out to be much better than the hackneyed premise had promised. I admit it had a rough beginning with the script waaaay overindulging in needless profanity, but it turned out to be very funny in spite of it’s predictability. With Kurt back with us, we had a nice dinner at Red Robin before picking up the furry monster for the ride home. The heat takes a lot out of you, and we were all as tired as Morgan that night, although the girls found enough energy to open up a can of whoop ass at pinochle.

The folks headed to Boise Wednesday morning to have Dad fitted with a heart monitor halter. The delay in a third surgery to remove the bladder tumor he has is due to his new VA surgeon’s concerns over his heart’s healthiness. He has had an EKG and echo, is scheduled for a scan on 9/2, and must wear this halter for a 24 hour recording of his every heartbeat to detect irregularities. While they were gone, I took Kurt to a dental appointment and bathed the dog while Randie installed the Lincoln’s new battery. We ate lunch with Kurt at the dining room table, killing off leftovers, and talked about his improved health and Dad’s tests. Kurt, having lived his whole life with a bad heart, has insider knowledge of all the procedures Dad is going through and could explain them all to us in detail. Kurt is doing very well with his new heart, walking 30 minutes every day at a normal pace. Having seen him move at a snail’s pace for so many years, my jaw literally dropped when I saw him walking up the road with a steady stride. He used to take a few slow steps and then stop to breathe, and then repeat until he reached his destination. He says he has much more energy to match his new healthy coloring too. Dad’s long time buddy Gerry Ammann called from California as we were finishing lunch, and I gave him the latest news on Dad and promised to have him call. Taking in a movie after the doctor appointment, Mom and Dad got home finally around five with Dad wired for sound. He had wires taped to multiple points on his chest, trailing down to a small metal box clipped to his waistband. The five of us met up with Fayne and Roger, their neighbors, at Cold Mountain for dinner, and Dad warned us not to say anything incriminating because he was wearing a wire.

I asked Dad if he’d like some company on his trip to Boise to remove the halter on Thursday morning, since Mom had other medical commitments of her own. We had some nice father-daughter time on the drive. The technician who removed the monitor was not able to give any feedback. The digital device would be downloaded and forwarded to the VA for interpretation. We had a nice lunch at a Chinese Buffet of his choice, before heading back to Emmett. As we pulled into the long dirt driveway, we could see that Randie had mowed most of the front field in our absence. We gave the family the scant report on our trip, and then Randie headed to town for a haircut, but with a greater agenda to buy fresh roadside corn for our dinner that night. He returned triumphant, and I went to work shucking while Mom heated up sketti from the bowels of the downstairs freezer she is trying to empty. A strange combo, spaghetti and corn, but it took the wrinkles out of our stomachs as my Dad likes to say. I spent a little time with Kurt that evening up in his room on the second floor. I might note here that he climbs the flight of steps without stopping now. My mom had purchased a chaise patio chair that pivots from a sitting to reclined position given enough push from the legs. The purpose of it’s purchase was to give Kurt seating where his legs are higher than his heart, which his regular recliner piece of furniture does not. He hadn’t been using it because my Mom was convinced that he would need help getting in and out of the chair, admittedly an awkward undertaking. She is so busy, finding time to do this was an issue. I worked with him a short while, demonstrating and verbally walking him through the procedure until he was able to do it himself. He came back downstairs and proudly announced his achievement to my Mom’s happy surprise. He can do more than even he knows he can. At some point that evening, the water pump went out, and the house was without flowing water when it came time to do dishes. We made a call to the last guy who worked on it and got a machine. Flushing and showering would just have to wait.

I left another message Friday morning for water repair and again reached a machine. The folks headed in to Boise to get another test done, and Randie attacked the rest of the front field with the tractor pulling the big mower. Kurt listened for the phone while I walked the dog down to the alpacas for a little reunion. Morgan found an area where he could get up to the fence and went nose to nose with the skittish beasts after a few group retreats and returns. We also stopped to watch the horses across the street, more old friends, before heading home for lunch. Since there hadn’t been a return call yet, I called the main pump company in town and was immediately promised an afternoon visit to fix the problem. They arrived right after we’d finished lunch and went to work in the basement. Shortly, the problem was diagnosed, and repairs were being completed as my parents arrived home from Boise. Being without water for only one day drives home how much we take running water for granted in our lives – and how inconvenienced we are without it. As they drove away, toilets were flushing throughout the house and Mom set to work on the dishes in the sink. We retreated to the RV’s air conditioning until dinnertime, working on bills and reservations. There was a quite a stack of mail awaiting us when we got back to Emmett, and it was time to go through it. Mom’s enchiladas were enjoyed by all that night, and the girls kicked butt at pinochle again. All this and flushing toilets too. A good night.

We, along with my folks, met Stan at McDonalds on Saturday morning for coffee and dominoes. We enjoyed catching up with him and gave him the latest news on Dad, which wasn’t much to share. Back at the ranch, Randie provided help to my Mom making adjustments to the sprinklers. Walking the lawn, she found a gopher hole and declared war. She dug down the tunnel, mounding the dirt beside her excavation and set the trap. Then she put a cover over the hole to keep Morgan and her cat, Pepper, out of trouble. After putting together a couple loaves of oatmeal cake and having lunch with the family, I headed into town for a haircut. My friend Kim had moved to New York since my last visit, so I sat in the chair of another gal, April. She did a nice job and, when done, began braiding my hair. I wondered to myself how she knew I liked to have it braided after being cut and thought perhaps she’d seen Kim do it. When I went to pay her, she told me that Randie had already taken care of payment when he’d been in earlier in the week. He was the one that asked her to braid my hair, knowing that I like that. Such a thoughtful guy I married. Once I got home, I showed off my new ‘do to the family and then took a seat on the porch with Dad. We shelled walnuts while Randie BBQd chicken nearby and sat with us between grill visits. We admired the nearby hills as the shadows grew in the crevices between the mounds, making for a beautiful view from the porch. As we chatted and picked at the walnuts, the chicken sizzled nearby, and each time Randie came back to sit with us, he brought the smell of smokey chicken with him. He had made a batch of his wonderful baked beans while I had been to town so, with corn on the cob and Mom’s potato salad, we ate good that night.

We met Randie’s long time friends Tom and Maureen for breakfast at Hales on Sunday, August 14th. Randie endulged in eggs Spartan, a variation of eggs Benedict that substitutes a Tillamook cheese sauce for hollandaise. I also took a chance on something new: the triple crunch French toast. The recipe calls for regular French toast to be dipped in pancake batter and then rolled in corn flake crumbs before being deep fried. The mimosas set the mood, and we had a wonderful visit. We drove out to Randie’s step-mom’s in the afternoon. She has a dachshund named Shamie and was babysitting another dachshund when we visited. Morgan was in heaven romping in the backyard with the two girls as they took turns chasing one another. While the dogs wore themselves out, I did a few loads of laundry, and we saw JoAn’s photos from her recent trip to Ireland, a place we’d like to visit someday. She did a bus tour which provides a great overview but not a lot of time in any one place. We have done similar tours of England/Scotland and one of the Alpine countries, both with my parents. We were both reluctant converts to this mode of touring, but liked it enough to do a second one. They are a great way to cover a lot of territory and catch the highlights of a country in a limited amount of time. The three of us went to Chang’s for dinner, a Portland Mongolian BBQ chain. When we got home that night, I finished up the weekly blog and had it posted before midnight.

Other than walking the dog, we did not venture out on Monday until after lunch. We took in a movie that afternoon. The film we chose was Planet of the Apes, a prequel to the old movie serial from the seventies. It was very well contrived, explaining the circumstances which led to the rise of the ape population and demise of man in a very logical and believable fashion. That said, I would say it was good if you like this genre as I do, but not a great film. We tried a local sushi chain for dinner called Sushi Mio. Very good and reasonably priced food.

Randie met Tom for an early morning workout at the lodge on Tuesday morning. Not all lodges have this type of facility, but the Beaverton Elks has this AND a sauna which Randie greatly enjoys. We left Morgan at the RV shortly after 11 for another movie date. This time we saw The Help. We rate this movie an A+. The acting was outstanding and the story original and thought provoking. I’m sure it will receive a nomination. It was also fun to see Alison Janning who has been underemployed since West Wing went off the air. Back home, we took Morgan out into a grassy field adjacent to the lodge to give him some exercise and work off a little popcorn. That dog loves to run and he is good at it too. I made contact with my family that afternoon, hoping to hear of a surgery date for Dad. Instead I hung up frustrated after hearing that no progress had been made. Feeling like a nag, I urged Mom to call the VA to stir the pot and she finally agreed to give it a try. We visited Round Table for the dinner buffet for dinner. It is the safest way for me to enjoy their pizza. I can fill a plate with salad and then only have room for a couple pieces of pizza after filling up on healthy stuff. No leftovers either. I was surprised to see so many kids in the place. They must not find all the games at Chuck E. Cheese enough compensation for eating that pizza.

Early Wednesday morning, we got a new neighbor in the site beside us. Unfortunately, the RV held two dogs who barked incessantly. The owner(s) left shortly after parking, and the dogs made themselves comfortable on the dash between the privacy curtain and the windshield where they barked until you were sure they would wear out their vocal equipment. We took a drive up to Pittock Mansion that morning to escape the noise. Pittock was a rags to riches Portland forefather who is most famous for his ownership of the Oregonian newspaper and his love of hiking and mountain climbing. His mansion sits atop one of the foothills above downtown Portland with magnificent views of both the Columbia and Willamette rivers and all 5 mountains in the Cascade range. The first floor features a spectacular entrance foyer with flowing marble stairways, an extensive intercom system for calling servants, many communal rooms with intricate parquet floors and elaborate walls, and an elevator. The second floor held 8 bedrooms for the family. Most notable here was Mr. Pittock’s shower which resembled a torture chamber. There were spray nozzles which would attack from all fronts and, if that wasn’t enough, there was a dinner plate with holes hanging above the showerer and a nozzle pointing up from the floor. I remember seeing a similar contraption in the Hearst Castle so I surmise that these showers must have been all the rage among the rich in the early 1900s. The third floor, filled with housing for the household staff, was off limits on the self-guided tour. Mrs. Pittock was well known for her philanthropic enterprises, but also, most notably, for holding the rose garden affair that blossomed into what is today Portland’s Rose Festival, a major annual event in the City of Roses. As you might imagine, the grounds were beautifully landscaped with heirloom rose species. The view of the snow capped peaks in every direction was simply icing on the cake. From the mansion, we drove down into town and made our annual stop at Powell Books, Portland’s famous bookstore. The store encompasses about two city blocks with multiple floors. Inside is a maze of shelved rooms navigable only by using the color coded maps posted on walls and structural columns in central areas. I can’t imagine that there is a book in print that isn’t sitting on a shelf in that store. While Randie stood in line to sell our audio books behind a man with boxes of books loaded on a dolly, I headed to the recorded books room to search for new replacements. Randie joined me about 20 minutes later with a credit slip worth over $20. We settled on 4 used audio books and began trying to trace our steps back to a check out counter on the ground floor. We made a wrong turn somewhere, caught ourselves, and backtracked. Before long, we were handing over a credit card and heading for the street. Back at the Elks, Randie went over to the office to complain about the dogs who were still barking. They must have vocal chords of steel. The lady behind the desk was the owner of the dogs! She apologized and said she’d have a talk with them. Seriously? As if they were adolescents who could be reasoned with. Randie went out and got the toad’s headlight fixed after lunch, and then we loaded up Morgan and headed back to JoAn’s. Shamie and Morgan immediately began playing, excited to be reunited for another running session. Knowing this would go into the blog, I asked JoAn at some point how to spell Shammy. She spelled it out, ending with the “IE” and explaining simply that Shamie was a Farish. You see, Randie’s Mother and Father, Laddie and Mollie, both had names ending in IE and so gave Randie the same kind of spelling. We enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Takahashi’s, a well established Japanese restaurant in Portland. It looks like a bit of a dive on the outside, but the inside is decorated as only a long time restaurant can be. The floors, walls, and ceilings are covered in old country items lending authenticity to the place’s atmosphere. I have never seen it any way other than packed to the gills. Getting there early, we waited only 10 minutes for a table to open. Back home, while the dogs ran themselves into exhaustion, we played Guillotine. That night, I tossed and turned thinking of my Dad and feeling helpless.

When Randie returned on Thursday morning from his workout with Tom, he told me he thought we should drive back to Emmett early and see if there was anything we could do to move things along. I immediately felt some relief from this. It didn’t get us any closer to getting him the surgery he needs, but it least I felt that I would be in a better position to help if that was possible. After Randie returned from an unsuccessful mission looking for thicker o-rings for our still leaking water filters, he went over to the Elks office and convinced them we should be allowed to leave early, on Saturday, with a refund. Considering the dogs were making everyone in the lot miserable, they agreed. We made our weekly pilgrimage to Costco to get food staples and filled a cooler with two pointers for the freezer back home. I was recently asked by a reader to remind everyone what a 2 pointer is. This is the term we use for the chocolate/vanilla non-fat swirl yogurt that Costco sells in it’s food court. On weight watchers, they are only two points, hence the nickname we’ve labeled them with. We grab a box from beneath a nearby checkstand and tell the counter clerk that we need them with lids, no spoons. We sprinkle frozen blueberries on top in the evenings while on the road and enjoy the treat regularly as long as there are Costcos along our route. When Randie returned from a quick visit with Tom and Karen, we walked the dog and headed over to Guardian Games in Downtown Portland for our boardgame fix. There are two big game stores in Portland, each with gaming nights which, smartly, do not conflict with each other. We found the store had expanded in size since our last visit two years ago. The place was full of tables and equally full of people. We found a couple with a game we were unfamiliar with all set up and looking like they were hoping for opponents. I wandered over and they were quick to invite us to join them. We enjoyed them and the game although we lost badly. This isn’t totally unexpected when playing an unfamiliar game. Then we played Agricola which we had brought and fared equally as poorly. I didn’t mind coming in 4th on both games though (sob, sniff) because I learned a new game and learned a new strategy at an old one.

We finally ventured out of the RV for lunch the next day, Friday, in order to enjoy Chang’s one last time before our departure. We detoured on the way home to pass Intel’s headquarters where they are in the process of building the largest (not tallest) building in the world. To accomplish this, they have flown in the world’s largest crane in pieces and are now in the process of rebuilding the crane, using an army of regular skyscraper cranes. Turning back for Beaverton, we saw scrolling smoke in the air and Randie remembered that this was the first day of the Oregon International Aviation Show. While he kept his eyes on the road, I craned my neck and pressed my face to the glass to see the plane creating the maze of contrails, half expecting to read “Surrender Dorothy” when he finished. We worked off a little bit of our early lunch with Morgan in the grassy field, throwing the blue rubber ball back and forth and running him until we were all tired and ready for naps. We had eaten an early lunch because we had dinner reservations for 5 pm at Ringside Steak House, a culinary institution in Portland. Like so many of the great steakhouses I’ve been to, it has a dimly lit clubby feel with finely dressed wait staff, a packed house every night, and high prices. We met Jim and Yung Yung at the door minutes before they opened at five. By 6 p.m., as we sipped our wine and finished our dinners, I was unable to see an empty table in the place, nor an empty seat at the bar. We had a wonderful meal matched with a very nice red wine, but more importantly, we had an opportunity to get to know Yung Yung, who, as it turned out, is a vegetarian and doesn’t drink. When I asked her what her most favorite new food was since arriving in the U.S., she replied, “cherries”. She explained that she had seen them on occasion in Shanghai, but the cost is exorbitant, around $16 per pound. Considering the average income in China, they are out of reach from all but the most wealthy. My dinner salad came with raspberries and blackberries and she accepted them with delight when I offered some of them to her.

Randie and Tom had their final workout on Saturday morning. By eleven, we had gotten down off our tire ramps, dumped our tanks, and were headed out onto the street. Randie had decided to take Hwy 14 east, the Lewis and Clark Highway which traces the corps of discovery’s path along the Columbia River Gorge. Outside of Portland, we passed the Bonneville dam. Randie noted that it was releasing more water than he had ever seen in all his years of boating in the area. As we passed the huge monolith of Beacon Rock we encountered strong winds pushing on the motorhome. Randie recounted a story of his days on board Sovereign, his 43’ Hans Christian sailboat he lived aboard before moving to Hawaii. He had encountered such a strong unexpected gust of wind on a trip up the Columbia, that it had knocked the boat over to the spreaders (almost flat over in the water). By early afternoon, we were heading over the river on the Bridge of the Gods into the town of Cascade Locks. As we stopped to pay the $3 toll on the Oregon side of the bridge I noticed that all the booth windows were lined with troll dolls – those long haired ugly toys from the sixties. I had owned quite a few myself. I thought outloud that trolls were supposed to live under the bridge, not on top. Randie had timed our passage through this town in order to cross paths with friends of ours, the Paynes, from Marin County. We had to squeeze our 38 foot RV into a 36 foot site, but managed to make the only available site in town that could possibly handle our rig work. With poles and encroaching trees on either side, Randie stood watch as I sent out the slides. As one of the living room slides neared its expanse, I heard an unfamiliar noise. Randie insisted I still had room to go and so I hit the button again. Crunch! I thought my trust had been misplaced and then realized that the problem was inside, not outside. A case of diet pepsi which had been stored behind the driver’s seat had slid while we were underway, to the back corner, not readily visible when I gave a cursory inspection prior to sending out the slides. When the overlapping lip of the slideout got to where the pepsi impeded it’s final extrusion, it broke a piece of cabinetry. A slender floor CD cabinet popped its screws and stood lamely near it’s rightful place. Of course, wailing did no good. Randie rushed in to see what I was shouting about and examined the fine mess I’d gotten us into. After inspecting the cabinet and it’s method of attachment, he proclaimed that he could fix it and not to worry. Truthfully, I was much more upset than he was, finding his reaction much tamer than the time I nicked the paint on the side of the RV with the toad’s door. Perhaps it is the inside/outside, pink/blue thing. I damaged my own territory, which is less of an insult to his sense of motorhome beauty. Perhaps because I was distraught, I allowed him to skunk me at dominoes while we ate some leftovers. An hour later, we headed over to the house that Mike and Claudia and had rented for the night by the river. It sat near the end of a narrow deadend street, and, upon seeing the situation, we were feeling good about our decision not to attempt to boondock on the street outside the house. We caught up on each other’s travels and then huddled over plans for dinner. When the huddle broke, we headed back to the RV to pick up Samish Island crab, Leavenworth Stilton Cheese, whip cream, brown rice, and cucumber yogurt dip. They met us back at the house after picking up a few things at the local market and visiting the Indian salmon stall down by the river for a fresh salmon, filleted before their eyes. Claudia and I walked across the street and picked a colander full of blackberries off the wild bushes while the guys worked in the kitchen. Randie created a wonderful pupu of Dungeness on crusty bread with Tillamook cheese and cocktail sauce, Mike BBQd some plump big sausage which he sliced up and served with brown mustard, and we plated the stilton with crackers. We sat out on the front patio overlooking the river, talked of life and adventure, and washed it all down with a bottle of Scharffenberger champagne. Life is Good. Not that we really needed dinner after that, but Randie and Mike cooked up the salmon and I added some dill to the cumber dip which made a great sauce. We played a couple games of Guillotine and found some room, somehow, for a dish of blackberries topped with whipped cream. We waddled back to the toad and drove the mile or so back to the motel/RV park, lifted the CD cabinet off the bed, and climbed in.

Sunday, August 7th, was the last full day of the reunion. At 10 a.m., after breakfast was cleared, the decathlon rankings were formally announced. Randie’s team came in 4th and my team fared a little worse. One of the younger men at the reunion managed to coerce or convince several other men to participate in what he billed as the first annual polar bear swim. So right after the winning teams were awarded with their dimestore gifts that I had helped wrap earlier in the week, six of the guys, including Steve who was old enough to know better, changed into swim trunks. As the half naked adrenaline junkies crossed the street and headed down the steep path to the shore, they were followed by those of us who were whispering to one another, “I’ve got to see this”. They all dove into the icy water and swam out 20 yards where they regained their footing in waist deep water. They hugged themselves, shivering, while those saner individuals in the family gene pool took pictures. After 5 minutes, which must have felt much longer to them, they waded slowly back in to shore. Their skin was much pinker as a result of the cold water and they jogged up the narrow path single file, teeth chattering, followed by the laughing and joking relatives. What a parade! While the family got in their final visits and gaming, Randie and Lorrie put together the zucchini relish they’d been working on for a few days into jars. A third for Lorrie, a third for Randie, and a final third for Gail who had supplied the zucchini for their labors. Morgan took one last roll in the crab field while I was distracted with games and goodbyes. Those still present, gathered around the fire that night discussing the possibilities for next year’s assemblage.

On Monday morning, the clean-up began. We helped until lunchtime and then began the task of see-sawing the rig back onto the street and hooking up the toad. We settled up with Gail who tracks meals and cocktail participation by each family member and collects each person’s contribution before departure. She generously loaded us up with food leftovers, including plenty of cracked crab. We were sad to say good-bye knowing it would be a year or two before we have the chance to see our friends again, but before we knew it, we were weaving through the island streets heading for the mainland. We parked for the night at the Burien Elks Lodge, a suburb of Seattle. Their sites were all full, but they allowed us to drycamp for $10 which gave us the opportunity to use the solar panels and inverter. The sky in Seattle was pretty grey that day, but we were able to make do. We did some area research on the laptops, ate some reunion leftovers, and tried to catch up on some sleep.

We dropped Morgan off at a Doggy Daycare center on Tuesday morning and headed for the Experimental Music Project (EMP) next to the Space Needle in downtown Seattle. We were surprised to find out that a few years ago the focus of the EMP, founded by billionaire Paul Allen, was expanded to include Science Fiction. Not only were we provided an entertaining musical education, but the unexpected exhibits on Avatar and Battlestar Gallactica turned out to be our favorite parts. We paid the extra $3 for the Ipod necklace with headphones to get the guided audio tour of these special temporary exhibits, as well as a more comprehensive tour of the Guitar Gallery. The Gallery traced the history of the guitar from its earliest forms, through its changes from Hawaiian and Country Western influences, to its electrification and amplification and modern forms. The early metal versions, about 100 years ago, made both Randie and I think of a talented fellow who was in our park last Winter who makes his own instruments. He brings a guitar to the weekly jam which he has constructed using a pie plate face. Having some extra time before we needed to pick up the pooch, Randie drove us to Pike’s Market to complete our touristy outing. We aced a killer parking spot which was fortunate as Randie’s ankles were paining him after hours on our feet at the EMP. We wove our way under the awnings between sidewalk sellers and through a throng of people. Randie spotted the fishmongers who had been featured on an episode of Man Vs. Food. The aproned men yell back and forth as they toss the big fish through the air to one another and draw a perpetual crowd . We stopped to watch a while before taking a nearby seat at a little sushi bar. We didn’t imagine we could find fish any fresher than right there. With a little nourishment and time off our feet, we were ready to make our way back down the street to the car. With our goal firmly in mind, we were stopped only once by a fruit vendor standing on the sidewalk with a white nectarine and a paring knife. She would slice off pieces and hand them to passers by. In sales, this is known as the puppy dog close, and it worked on us like a charm. We bought three and made it the rest of the way to the car without further temptation. We were told that Morgan played well with others all day, non-stop, when we picked him up. We know he must have played hard, because he fell dead asleep as we ate our dinner. I managed to get the blog mostly finished before falling asleep myself.

I finally got the blog posted on Wednesday with written apologies to my followers. It is not unusual for a couple of my fans to email when the blog is late, so I know that there are at least a few people that actually read these self-absorbed ramblings. I checked in with my family and was frustrated to hear that they have not yet gotten a surgery date from the V.A. With a lot of encouragement, I was able to get a commitment from my Mom to call the next day and stir the pot. We pulled in the slides by mid-morning and headed off to Portland listening to an audio book mystery surrounding the death of Edgar Allen Poe. We chose the Beaverton Elks as our home base where we have stayed on a previous visit. The location is great, but the parking lot has a substantial slope. To compensate for this, we must use more than just our coach’s leveling system. The lodge provides sets of wooden wheel ramps that look like giant doorstop wedges. Randie backed the coach uphill as far back as possible and then jumped out to help me position the heavy ramps. Back behind the steering wheel, he slowly inched the front tires forward up the ramp as I squatted out in front to make sure our line up was accurate. We ended our climb with our front wheels about 18” above the ground. As you can imagine, this configuration makes our lowest step an Olympic qualifying event. The next day, Randie went out and bought a little plastic step to help us bridge the gap. Morgan doesn’t trust the new step though and throws himself through the air over it all the way to the ground. Based on his size, I would expect him to have to end with a tuck and roll, but he sticks the landing every time. Reaching the water with our hose turned out to be impossible, so we decided to live off our tanks another night. After going through our parking process, we were not going to move when simply purchasing an extension hose would solve the problem. We had dinner that night with Randie’s buddy Tom and his girlfriend Karen. When we arrived with Morgan, we took him to the backyard to explore while we got a tour of Tom’s new digs. Walking back onto the back patio, we caught Morgan licking one of two pieces of smoked tuna plated on a low metal coffee table. We apologized and promised to eat that piece ourselves. We didn’t realize there was food set out when we set him free in the backyard. Karen then told us that there had been THREE pieces of tuna on the plate before we arrived. Oops. After a cocktail, we enjoyed a wonderful BBQ dinner without further incident.

Randie was up early on Thursday to meet Tom in the lodge’s workout room. When he came home freshly showered, I had my nose in my laptop playing Frontierville. This is a free facebook game that I got hooked on about a month ago and has been replacing my previous time spent on other computer games. I’ve heard it referred to as the crack cocaine of the internet and I can understand the reference, however, it is very fun and free. About noon, we headed to the theater to see Cowboys and Aliens, making a lunch out of popcorn and candy. The movie was very good with an imaginative spin. That evening, we joined Tom and Karen at an outdoor concert at the Oak Knoll Winery south of Hillsboro. Randie remembers them starting out in the seventies from an old cow milking barn with some sweet fruit wines made from strawberries and other berries. Over the years, they have graduated to grape wine production, but still tend to be known for their sweeter offerings. We found a place on the expansive lawn to set up our folding chairs, bought a bottle of Reisling to share and some food, and soaked in the music. The group on stage performed a lot of classic rock including Beatles, the Stones, Springsteen, Jefferson Airplane, and Fleetwood Mac – a nice tribute to a great era of music.

We watched the Today show on Friday morning. We’d been anticipating the Zac Brown Band’s appearance for a few days and enjoyed seeing them perform several of their big hits. Although we’ve never been big followers of country music, we have been exposed to some of it through Radio Margaritaville and the ZBB is our favorite in this genre. I made a trip to a local Borders after the show was over to see if the discounts had improved since my last visit in CDA. The cuts were now at the 30-50% level which meant the short time I had available to shop would not be enough. We did another matinee after lunch that day, taking in Crazy Stupid Love with Ryan Gosling, Julianne Moore, and Steve Carrell. It was fantastic! I recommend it highly, and guarantee that the ending will send you for a loop. After the movie, I dropped off Randie at the rig and headed back to Borders and a Goodwill superstore. I had no idea these superstores existed. The place was huge, highly organized, and shoppable - not at all like the thrift stores I’ve been to in the past with things heaped and piled in a room full of second hand clutter. I was hoping for a Mexican Train game, but instead walked out with a battery operated card shuffler, some New Years Eve decorations, and a luau tablecloth for the park. While I was on a shopping frenzy, Randie was installing new o-rings on our water filter system in hopes of stopping the recurring leak along with the extension hose. I was gone so long, he also had time to make a wonderful Mexican casserole using up stuff he found in the freezer and a container of salsa. It was wonderful. Maybe I should go shopping more often?

Randie met Tom early Saturday morning for another workout at the lodge. He found me with my nose in the laptop when he came home, harvesting my crops and feeding my animals on Frontierville. The morning continued very low key, playing and working on the laptops and taking new reservations for the park, until it was time to finish off the casserole and head over to Randie’s nephew David’s new home. David and his family moved into a beautiful large (3000+ sq ft) home a few weeks ago. They were renting during the housing bust and are taking advantage of today’s relatively low prices. They have need of all that space not only because of the foster children they care for, but also because they own three great danes. When we arrived with Morgan, David explained that his nickname in their house would be “snack”. His dogs have chew toys that are literally the same size as our twelve pounder. Needless to say, Morgan enjoyed the view of the new house from the car window while we got the fifty cent tour. Randie’s stepmom JoAn arrived for the tour with us and David’s Mom Carol was already there with husband Herb. It was a mini family reunion. The dogs, the size of ponies, were excited to be part of the tour, but when we settled into the living room to talk, they settled down. Before long, they were laying sprawled fast asleep covering all the wide areas of carpet. David likened the living room scene to Jonestown. It looked as if the dogs had been into the koolaid and fallen where they stood. That evening we met our friend Jim Grant, his new love Yung Yung, friend Fred and his significant other for cocktails and dinner in downtown Portland. Jim has been traveling back and forth to China for years in furtherance of his granite business. During these travels, he and Yung Yung hooked up and, after a year of wrangling diplomats and plodding through a swamp of red tape, finally got permission to bring her to the U.S. They have 90 days to tie the knot before her provisional marriage visa expires. Did I mention that the sweet girl is 30 years his junior and a yoga expert? She is a bit shy, but her English is surprisingly good. They seem to be good together, each bringing something to the table. For his age, Jim is both physically and financially attractive and Yung Yung is pretty, undemanding, and fantasy flexible. We hope they are very happy. We took the long way home, detouring through the hills above Portland admiring the beautiful old homes among the tall trees overlooking the Willamette River and downtown. As much as we enjoyed the idea of living in one of these stately old homes, we reminded ourselves about how treacherous the roads would be in the winter snow and ice. I think we’ll stick with Arizona.

We left Issaquah on Sunday morning, July 31st, heading west to Samish Island off the coast of Washington. We made a pit-stop at a highway rest stop along the way to clear our tanks and top off our water supply. Washington state has a wonderful network of highway rest areas with free dump stations and potable water. When we stopped at one a couple years ago, I took a digital photo of the big sign at one of these which indicated where they were all located. So, before heading out in the morning, Randie found the old photo on the laptop and planned our course. We made one more stop at a Costco to fill up the toad’s tank as well as the freezer with two pointers and other items on our list. As we approached the island reunion, Randie drove over the landbridge and maneuvered the small island community’s streets like he’d done it more than the two previous visits we’ve actually made. The Hopley’s (Gail and Steve), who own the home which frequently hosts these reunions, came out to greet us along with Jim and Lorrie, our friends from Kona who are our entry to the Zimmerman reunion. You see, we are not related to this clan. We accepted our first invitation to attend a few years back when we were RVing the area after hearing Lorrie and Jim brag about how much fun their family reunion is each year. They did not exaggerate. We were amazed by the organization and energy involved to create such an event and were even more amazed to learn they do it EVERY YEAR! With only a couple passes, we had the rig backed onto the side lawn in the same spot we’d occupied on our previous two visits. The view through the windshield is out onto picturesque Bellingham Bay peppered with small boats and the mainland beyond. We introduced Morgan to the gang, and he made friends of everyone very quickly. Two years ago, with the help of the muscle available at the reunion, an old outhouse was relocated to the backyard with a new purpose in mind. That afternoon we got to see it now reincarnated as a hen house with an attached chicken coop enclosure. Having seen Morgan chase after birds many times, it was no surprise that he wanted to chase the chickens. This meant that he was only allowed off the leash during the reunion when we knew the girls were in the coop. If he tormented them in the coop, he went back on the leash. We couldn’t endanger the egg supply by having stressed chickens! We ate fresh Dungeness crab for dinner that night with the small group of early attendees involved in the prep work needed to pull off such a happening. We talked about what needed doing and Randie was pretty involved in the shopping trip list, having some experience with cooking for large groups.

On Monday we awoke to the beautiful view of the bay and made our way around the back of the house to the very large deck area where Lorrie was cooking blueberry pancakes. With 7 or 8 picnic tables, there is a good deal of seating available, and with 65 people expected, it would all be needed. We all worked at various tasks throughout the day to get things ready. The last time we attended, I was tasked with labeling all the kitchen cabinet doors and drawers with blue painter’s tape so those not familiar with Gail’s kitchen could find what they needed easily. This became my job again that day and I tried to make it fun. At the far end of the kitchen cabinets is a set of shelves with a clear glass door designed to show off curios. Gail has filled the shelves with antique kitchen items, mostly red-handled gadgets. Last time I labeled this cabinet “Sex Toys”. Not wanting to repeat myself, I labeled it “Illicit Drugs (recipe box)” this time. When Randie and the grocery shopping entourage returned from Costco, he went to work with Lorrie on the meatloaf production. Seven meatloaves would be made that day for use in meatloaf sandwiches during the reunion, a family favorite. I took a break in the afternoon and leashed up Morgan for a walk. The island neighborhood made for a fun walk admiring the variety of homes, gardens, and intermittent views of the bay. The wild vegetation growing along the sides of the road is mostly made up of sweet peas and berries, and the vacant lands, more plentiful as I walked uphill away from the water, were mini pine rainforests carpeted with ferns and topped by 80’ old pines. After a long day of work, our group of about 12 headed to a local tavern for dinner. Our number completely overwhelmed the single waitress and cook, and we waited a long time for our meals. As it turned out, it wasn’t a problem. With a drink in each person’s hand and access to both a jukebox and a table shuffleboard game, we remained in good spirits until the cook earned his paycheck. When we got home, still full of energy from our tavern fun, we gathered around a couple tables and played games until bedtime. Randie and I got to try a card game called dominion which was pretty good.

I touched base with my family on Tuesday morning to get the results of Dad’s doctor appointment the previous day. The Boise V.A. agrees that surgery is needed, but said they would call with a date. They expect it to happen sometime in August. Their lack of haste is rather disconcerting to us. The day was filled with chores again as we worked our way through the list. Tables needed to be moved, lights hung, and nets put up for badminton and volley ball, and Frisbee golf. Steve and his son Graham mowed the acres of lawn which would soon be covered by frolicking family and a platoon of tents. I cleaned out and reorganized the fridge with Lorrie (something my own fridge at home could use) and wrapped dozens of small dimestore gifts which would be used as prizes. We all took a break at 3:30 and 7 of us loaded into a couple vehicles and headed to the local casino after hearing about the Tuesday one dollar craps which ended at 5 PM. Twenty minutes later, as we crossed the driveway headed for the casino’s front doors, Randie yelled, “Hey, That’s Bob!” We walked/ran up to the big black pickup’s driver window as it was driving through the entrance driveway and got his attention. I think it took him a second to figure out who we were, seeing us so out of context. We traded greetings and he promised he had left us some money to win inside. Although we never found that money, we had a lot of fun rolling cheap dice for an hour until it was time to head back. We had an easy dinner of baked potatoes topped with “the works” when we got home and followed it up with a game of Stone Age.

Randie had breakfast duty on Wednesday. The daily meal schedules had been posted the evening before listing names beside each category of meal prep and cleanup three times a day and, most appreciated, the happy hour team who would deliver drinks at 5 PM. I found my name beside lunch prep for Thurs and dinner prep for Friday. Not sure how I avoided any cleanup assignments. Every attendee’s name appears several times on the chore list, including the kids once they reach about 5 years old. They can always set out the plates, napkins, etc or clear tables after the meal. After breakfast, Graham explained the team decathlon he had devised for this year’s reunion, naming ten of us, including Randie and I, as team captains. The events included an art project, a reunion trivia quiz, badminton rally, boardgames, cribbage, frizbee golf, croquet, and throwing games like cornhole, ladder golf, and horseshoes. Oh, I almost forgot the scavenger hunt. By lunch time, the new arrivals were coming in pretty steady. I managed to finish the croquet course along with Gail, Graham, Gail’s mom Barb, and a few others. Graham had designed the course as an endurance test with wicket spans that almost required binoculars. One wicket was below the lowest branches of a huge bush requiring the hitter to bend down and scrunch into the pokey limbs. Another wicket was hidden behind one of the portapotty buildings delivered earlier in the week. I warned Randie to avoid croquet, and he assigned this task to the youngest member of his team who was all too happy to comply. Morgan’s reunion situation changed quite a bit that day. Another couple arrived with a small dog. The dog, Pepper, was an older dog not interested in chickens or playing with Morgan for that matter…although that didn’t stop Morgan from trying. The other event was the arrival of the first toddler. Morgan learned quickly that the sippy cup full of goldfish tended to leak morsels. He followed the trail all day like Hansel and Gretel headed for the witch’s oven. Aside from a little cribbage, I spent much of the day working on the art project for my team. I designed a Hen House sign for Gail and Steve and hoped they would be chosen as judges. This was the first time this Summer I had pulled my paints out, and it felt good to get a paintbrush in my hand again. Brandon (the toddler’s dad) and I had dinner prep and together managed to get it out within 15 minutes of the targeted 6:30. As we clanged the iron dinner bell, the games temporarily came to a stop. Randie didn’t have much time for fun during the day since he offered to help Steve go get a cord of wood for the nightly fires everyone sits around at the end of the day. Splitting it and stacking it would haunt him with sore muscles for days to come, but it certainly is nice to enjoy the large circle of friends around the flames when the sun goes down each night.

While Randie enjoyed joining the group for breakfast, Morgan and I tended to sleep in a bit, usually joining the group between 9 and 10. By the time lunch rolled around on Thursday, the group’s numbers had exploded… along with the number of babies. Evidently there had been something in the water at the last couple reunions because the number of babies since our last attendance had risen exponentially. At first blush, this seemed to be a windfall for Morgan, but he soon found that small kids are not gentle or quiet, nor do they move predictably. By the end of the day, he was avoiding the little ones. When the chickens were out and he was leashed, this became a test of his leash’s strength. Consequently, Morgan’s time in the RV increased although he still longed to be with the group. Randie made an unexpected run to town with Jim that day to buy a pair of reading glasses to replace the pair that had been broken playing one sport or another that morning. I think it may have been a ploy to leave the compound in search of a geocache or two. This is a hobby of Jim’s, and Randie finds his enthusiasm contagious at the reunion. By early evening, the reunion’s final count of 65 people was reached. As the final members of my team of seven arrived that afternoon, I called a meeting for the next morning to strategize. After dinner, Randie and I got involved in a game of Ticket to Ride with a few family members. It turned out to be an exercise in patience as one fellow who we’d never met at a previous reunion couldn’t grasp how to play the game. Heck, he couldn’t even grasp his cards facing the right way all the time. The funny thing (and I use the term loosely) was that during the entire painful ordeal we assumed the sixty- something man was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s or dementia. We learned the next morning that he was just feeling the effects of three cocktails on an empty stomach

I met with my team members on Saturday morning, and I believe Randie did the same with his. We tackled the scavenger hunt items by passing out assignments for gathering items. After a discussion of individual skills, I delegated responsibilities for completing the throwing games, cribbage, and the others. Gage, our 7 year old member, took on the task of playing as many games of croquet as humanly possible. Points were awarded by simply completing a round regardless of your standing at the finish. Since I had no desire to face that course again and didn’t want to put another adult through it, his eagerness was a big relief. In the end, Gage played more games of croquet than anyone else at the reunion. That day was full of gaming. Randie and I played one game of cribbage and one game of cornhole, but other than that saw each other only in passing except for meals. Our cornhole experience this past winter at The Scenic Road RV Park proved to be an advantage over many opponents who had never been exposed to the game before. Randie volunteered to help with cleaning much of the crab that Steve had hauled in from his pots for the next night’s dinner. He also taught several of the younger men at the reunion how to do this. By the time dinner was served, a BBQ salmon meal following oyster pupus, we were all ready to sit and relax. I brought Morgan out of protective custody for a while and, with the chickens in the coop, gave him some freedom which he seemed to enjoy as he “vacuumed” the deck. Dessert that night was smores and campfire pies, a delicacy I’d never seen before. The pies are made with something that looks like a shrunken cast iron bed warmer. When the hinged metal pocket is opened, one lines it with bread on both sides and then plops in a filling such as jam or berries or peanut butter and chocolate. Closed, latched, and put to the fire, the bread makes a toasty crust while the filling is heated

On Saturday morning, Randie and I each gathered with our teams to take the trivia quiz. Since many of the questions were based on reunion history and family connections, our lack of experience made us less useful. Like the previous day, gaming was ubiquitous. Randie also donated his time to cleaning crab again that day. After lunch, Morgan was given some freedom to run, but it wasn’t long before someone informed me that he had been rolling and writhing in the crab cleaning field. Ugh! In the late afternoon, the art projects were due. The creativity shown was quite surprising. Among others, there was a mobile made of driftwood, clam shells, feathers and other island representations (Randie’s team), a zucchini sculpture, a family tree poem, Hawaiian style rock graffiti, and a puzzle. Lorrie’s team created the puzzle, and it was my favorite. They took headshots of everybody, including Morgan, at the reunion and made a composite design which was pasted onto cardboard and then cut into a jigsaw. Each attendee had an envelope with a piece of the puzzle inside which they needed to put in place. It was titled, “An Interlocking Family”. Very clever. Thanks to Steve, an experienced crabber, and the cleaning and cooking crew, there was a vast number of Dungeness crab ready for a magnificent crab feast – a reunion tradition on Samish Island. For an hour, the sound of 65 people talking happily punctuated by the thwaks of boards whacking against crab shells filled the back deck. When the hands were clean and the paper plates cleared, everybody gathered around the fire for the scavenger hunt resolution. Each team captain held a gallon sized Ziploc bag with his team’s interpretation of what was called for. For the something “Wholly holy or just plain holey” category, Brandon had contributed a pair of old underwear. For the item “above average” we included our 18 year old member’s drivers license. Bailey boasts a 4.0 GPA in high school – certainly above average. For the “something smelly” item, Morgan had made a small donation. For two hours, each team was called upon to produce their answer to one of the required items on the list. The deck would fill with boos or yays while the judges gauged the crowd’s response and awarded points. It was well past 10 before the show and tell was over and Randie, the dog, and I stumbled off to our RV. Tomorrow, the gathering would begin to break up with all the sad farewells, but for now we were full of crab and ready to sleep.

On Sunday July 24th, I took Morgan for a long walk while Randie finished waxing the RV. We strolled through the adjacent neighborhoods for well over a mile. Morgan likes to lead on our walks although he has no idea where we’re headed. He stays keenly attuned to the angle of my steps and where I’m looking, adjusting his course to remain in the lead. If I alter our course abruptly and suddenly he finds himself in the rear, he is compelled to race back to the front. Occasionally, the devil in me shows when I change my direction just to mess with him. I am thankful that he seems to have figured out how long the leash is and, while he extends the cord as far as it will go, he doesn’t pull on the leash. With the lower cabinets opened, Randie noticed one of the water filters was leaking after lunch. He had to muscle it on tighter in order to stop the flow. Realizing this must have been the reason the last fellow cranked them in so tightly, he felt much less criticism and took back all the things he had muttered under his breath earlier in the month. Mid-afternoon we headed out with Morgan in the backseat toward Chris and Lisa’s for a reunion dinner with his folks (my x-in-laws). The scenery was a quilt of green and amber fields stitched together with fencing and bordered with deep green pines on the surrounding unfarmable hills. We had allowed extra time so that we could stop at the CDA Indian casino near their home. Randie steered us around to the rear of the hotel where we could park in the shadow of the building and we headed in for an hour of gaming. The place has expanded a great deal since our last visit two years ago. There is no table gaming, but hundreds of machines and slots in every variety. We made a small donation to the operation over the course of a couple hours and then headed up to Black Rock for the dinner party. Lisa put together a wonderful pasta dinner which we enjoyed on the deck. With a beautiful view and interesting conversation, the time flew by. Before we knew it, we were straining to see each other in the dark and it was time to call it a night.

Morgan and I put another mile or more under our feet on Monday morning while Randie worked on the outside of the RV. It had come to our attention the previous night that one of the toad’s headlights was out. When I returned with the dog and he was sure he wasn’t going to have to send out a search party, he took the trailblazer in for a new bulb. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the bulb holder thingy and not just a simple bulb. The part would have to be ordered which didn’t fit our plans. It would have to wait. We shared a 2 pointer at Costco after lunch, picked up a few things, and filled up the toad on cheap gas. We finished our last day in CDA with a repeat visit to Bonsai on Lakeshore Drive for a sushi dinner overlooking the resort and lake beyond.

We left around 10 a.m. Tuesday and, after a fast stop at the RV dump in town, headed west. We pulled over in a small town park when we were hungry and put together some sandwiches. After I was badly beaten at dominoes, we got back on the road for the final leg into Leavenworth, Washington. This little town was suffering horribly after the depression and WW2. With businesses dying and people moving away, the town leaders got together and devised a scheme to reinvent the town as a tourist destination. It is now a little slice of Bavaria sitting on the Eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains. Randie and I toured this area of Germany in 2001 with my folks on a memorable Globus bus tour. The buildings in town have all been designed to match the look of a Bavarian village, complete with beautiful murals. The Americana staples that one sees in all towns across the U.S. like Cold Stone, McDonalds, Subway, Shell stations, etc, are barely recognizable in the unfamiliar garb dictated by the town’s building code. We pulled into the Icicle River RV Park by early afternoon and were escorted to our site by a workamper named Jerry. Randie expertly (with clenched jaw) maneuvered the RV through the winding uphill gravel roads skirted by tall pines to a platform of land overlooking the Wanatchee River. We parked at the right end of three other big rigs that had successfully negotiated the road before we did. Rather than backing in, we were instructed to pull in head first. Once we were in the site, we understood why. We were overlooking the most beautiful view through our front windshield. Just below us was a raging river full of enough white water to make even the most experienced rafter start a conversation with The Almighty. We opened the windows and let the water’s background noise fill the coach. Morgan and I took an investigatory walk, or I should say “climb.” We traversed SUV-sized boulders, climbed over fallen pines, and found wildflowers and scat to interest Morgan’s nose. Every once in a while I would venture close enough to the edge to see the river below. Morgan, unlike me, was fearless and would walk right to the edge and put his nose in the air to catch the updraft of smells. At twelve pounds, I imagined that if he somehow went off the edge, I could haul him back up without being carried down with him. Luckily, my theory was not put to the test. Back at the rig, we toasted our new location and Randie grilled us up some burgers. We were enjoying our surroundings way too much to think about leaving for dinner.

We ventured into the town late morning on Wednesday. After a rousing game of miniature golf (Randie won by a couple strokes), we found a parking spot at the edge of the shopping and dining concentration of businesses. We walked the streets up and back slowly, stepping in for a closer peek at those that interested me. Our favorite stop was the cheesemonger’s. We were enticed with free samples to make several purchases: a stilton, creamy smoked gouda, and an applewood blue. We checked out the displayed menus at the many German restaurants and selected Munchen Haus for lunch about the time Randie’s ankles were giving out. The smoke from the grilling brats and sausages wafted out to the street and caught the attention of many passer-bys. I found a spot at one of the communal picnic tables while Randie put our order in and bought a couple steins of beer. I chose a Hefeweisen – partly because it has a German name and partly because I know that if a drink comes with fruit in it, it HAS to be good. (Hefeweisens are generally served with a slice of lemon). Randie smothered his brat in apple cider sauerkraut and tested some of the plethora of mustards available; curry mustard, honey mustard, hot mustard, horsey mustard, ..even apricot mustard? I had an apple chicken sausage and declined all the fancy toppings. Randie claims the kraut was the best he’d ever had and vows to try cooking some in apple cider sometime in the future rather than the normal beer bath. The outdoor patio was filled with lattice and grapevines heavy with green unripe bunches of grapes. We produced a few curious looks from those nearby as we broke out the dominoes and enjoyed our surroundings and lunch. As we walked out, we noted that the line to get in had grown considerably. Back at the rig after lunch, I took care of some new reservations and worked on the laptop while Randie slept off his beer. That evening we headed back to town to visit King Ludwig’s, an authentic restaurant whose menu we had reviewed earlier in the day. The restaurant was quite full and we gladly shared a table with another couple who, as it turned out, were Bavarian! They spoke decent English so we were able to converse over plates of schnitzel, spatzel, and roast chicken and hear about their vacation in America. They judged the food quite good which seemed a strong recommendation to us.

We were sad to leave our riverside spot on Thursday. We pulled the slides in, walked the dog over the rocks one last time, and said adieu to our Montreal neighbor Pierre. I checked in with my folks once we were on the road and got the bad news that my Dad’s bladder cancer was back….or had never been fully removed more like it. The V.A. doc wanted to schedule him for surgery in late August (the soonest they could do it!) but my family said they would get it taken care of in Idaho. They are leaving for home in a couple days and will be glad to put SLC in the rear view mirror. Mom had an appointment scheduled for the next Monday at the V.A. in Boise before the day was out. We hope they can schedule his surgery a little sooner. The route we traveled toward Issaquah was lined with fruit stands advertising cherries. Eventually, this proved too much for Randie, and we made a stop to buy a couple big plastic clamshells of bings and rainiers. The Elks Lodge in Issaquah has a mowed grassy lot beside the lodge offering dry camping for up to 4 or 5 rigs for donation. Once settled, we took a stroll around the downtown area. Heading back, we passed a group of three girls in their late teens with beehive hairdos piled a foot above their heads. A few seconds later I realized that they must be heading to a dress rehearsal at the theater we had just passed which was festooned with posters for the play Hairspray set to open in a couple days. Back home, we popped a bottle of champagne and broke out some of the cheese we’d purchased recently. We savored both and, just as we were beginning to talk about pulling out the schnitzel leftovers, a knock came on the door. It was a woman from the lodge. She had our friends John and Joan on the phone who were worried about us since we had no-showed for dinner and they didn’t have our cell numbers. A phone call later, we had apologized for the misunderstanding about our dinner date, and we were in the car headed to their house. We had a late dinner with our friends, begged forgiveness for the mix-up, and caught up on each other’s lives. John and Joan are more good friends that came to us through Sea Quest, our previous business in Kona. They had been out on the raft dozens of times over the years before John began having trouble with mobility, and they still spend a portion of each Winter in Kona.

We had our schnitzel leftovers for lunch on Friday and then headed up to John and Joan’s place mid-afternoon. They live in an upscale development hidden away among tall pines. Sitting on their back deck, ornamented with boxes, bowls, and planters of flowers, engenders a feeling of immense serenity. The tall pines are all that are visible beyond the end of the lawn, and a few of these have faces nailed on. It provides a whimsical surprise for any visitors to their home. As we enjoyed conversation of the park, their recent cruises, and our travel plans, the sky above kept us entertained with a cluster of parasailers and hang-gliders slowly swirling in the updrafts beside the mountain in the distance. They shared a cruise brochure with us and made a case for us joining the same cruise next June. They have booked one of the three penthouse suites onboard so their “style” of cruising is much different than our cheapo inside cabin preference. Their response was, “sleep in your cabin, hang out in ours”. After snacking for more than an hour on melon and cherries, we drove to their favorite Chinese place in Issaquah for dinner. The food was excellent in spite of the unconventional appearance of the place. Looking inside the dining area, you would never know it was a Chinese restaurant other than by the ethnicity of the wait staff. There was not a single Chinese fan or paper lantern in sight. The artwork on the walls was nonspecific, but nice. The floral upholstery on the booths matched the hue of the wall paint as if a decorator had been in charge. We did the dinner for four, each choosing a favorite entrée, and then shared family style. The meal was ended with peeled orange segments as well as the traditional fortune cookies. A nice touch. We taught them to play guillotine at their dining room table that night before heading back to our RV.

As planned the night before, they met us at our rig about 9:30 Saturday and we headed over to the Elks Lodge for their annual pancake breakfast open house. Since they insisted on buying dinner the night before, we treated them to breakfast. We were hoping for an experience equal to that which the Ennis firehouse served up over July 4th. By the end of the meal (scrambled eggs, pancakes, and ham – all cold), we all knew that Randie and I had gotten the best end of the deal, but they were kind enough not to complain about the food. Since we benefit greatly from the Elks camping system, we try to support events like this whenever possible and realize it is a crapshoot. We rejoined our friends after lunch out on their back deck. We enjoyed the perfect temperature, watched the parasails floating high above, and played a couple games of Guillotine under the shade of an umbrella. During the game, Randie accidentally dropped his hand of cards. They hit the deck upright and slid through the small gap between the floorboards. I gave him a scornful look and he bellowed, “It was an accident!”. John told us there was an entrance to the area under the deck around the side and we headed around to inspect the situation. Randie pulled away some lattice siding, and I belly crawled underneath using a deck furniture tarp to keep off the damp mulch that covered the ground. The support beams under the decking made my progression beyond a foot impossible. Joan found a rake and a flashlight and with these tools I was able to slowly coax and cajole the cards to my position. We joked that Randie wouldn’t have to spend the night at their place after all. Periodically throughout the day I phoned my parents who were driving back to Emmett with their car filled to bursting. In the morning my mother confessed that she had spent the evening packing and repacking the car in order to fit in as much as possible. She ended up giving all of her foodstuffs to a neighbor in return for some temporary storage space until the family’s return for Kurt’s next check-up. Without any sleep, she had embarked on a 6-7 hour drive back home and I was worried for them all. Joanie broiled up some wonderful lambchops for dinner which got me salivating, although it was the corn on the cob which had Randie hustling to the dining room table. John has a nice wine collection housed in a temperature controlled wine room and shared a wonderful pinot with us which complimented our meal perfectly. We laughed about our near loss of the cards and finished off the night with a rematch. Before bed, we heard that the family had made it home safe and sound which allowed us to get some rest that night. Tomorrow we head for Samish!

We left the RV after lunch on Sunday, July 17th, headed for Scott and Sandy’s in Spokane with our lawn chairs and a cooler packed for a big day trip to Coulee Dam. It was a quick touch and go at their house. We left Morgan with Radar to tear up their backyard for the entire day and, with five of us in the toad, we headed off. We listened to Zac Brown Band and Jimmy Buffett as made our way through the countryside and small towns that span the two hour drive between CDA and Coulee. We arrived just in time for the 4 o’clock tour as we had planned. The last hourly tour is at 5 p.m., but if that one is full when you arrive, you’re screwed. The group size is controlled for security reasons. The tour lasted about 45 minutes and included the newest of the power houses (more than 4 football fields long) and a ride up onto the top of the dam which is closed to normal traffic. Exiting the transport van, I made my way to the safety rails. When I looked over the side, my heart (and stomach) was instantly in my throat. It is a very long drop, and what is amazing is that the dam continues below the surface of the water another 200 feet. I learned a great deal about Grand Coulee dam that day. Namely, that the Columbia River that it spans carries twelve times as much water as the Hoover Dam sees in Nevada and provides more than three times as much electricity. It ranks number one as the United State’s most powerful dam and number three in the world. Forty percent of its power goes to Southern California. When the dam was expanded to add the third power generating house, adding 60% more capacity due to improvements in generator technology, a treaty was established with Canada. The reservoir had to be expanded to serve the increased power capacity – and that backed it up into Canada less than 200 miles from the dam. Canada, as a result, receives an allowance of power from the dam along with the other northwest states. When we were done with the tour, we headed over to the museum where we watched a couple short films and enjoyed the exhibits about the dam’s construction and the area’s pre-dam history. We asked for restaurant suggestions from the museum help desk personnel, but found them constrained by rules from making recommendations. It was a shame since our choice by chance ended up being a sorry experience. The only one of us happy with their meal at Pepper Jack’s was Randie who ordered a cobb salad. I guess it is pretty hard to ruin a salad. Full but unsatisfied, we headed back to the museum parking lot which adjoins the viewing bleachers for the dam light show. Randie emptied our chairs out of the back of the toad while I made a makeshift table by covering the low wall behind the top bleacher with a towel. The girls sat on the top bleacher and twisted to face the wall while the guys sat themselves in lawn chairs on the other side. We passed two hours of time playing games this way while the bleachers around us slowly filled and the sun sank below the horizon. At dusk, our old eyes started having trouble with the fine print on the cards, and it was time to put away the game and force our now stiff necks to turn in the other direction. At 10 p.m., like clockwork, the laser lights began dancing on the white backdrop formed by the falling waters covering the side of the dam. The show lasted over 40 minutes and was more or less an enjoyable P.R. commercial for the dam, touting it’s benefits over it’s history. The car was much quieter on the long drive back to Spokane. Randie munched on coffee beans and Scott, sitting shotgun, kept him company. Morgan was excited to see he hadn’t been abandoned after all and wiggled from his shoulders all the way to his tail when he saw us. As we climbed into bed after 2 a.m., we thought about how long it had been since we’d been up that late. A long time.

We slept in a little bit on Monday, understandably. Randie took a walk to square us up with the lodge so we could stay here another week. Not much time had passed when he popped back into the RV saying, “Get me a brochure and a card, the Gypsy Journal couple are parked a few spots away.” I came out to say hello and we talked about their move from a bus conversion to a traditional motorhome and our purchase of the RV park in Quartzsite. Nick and Terry were instructors at the Life On Wheels conferences we used to attend in Moscow, Idaho when we first entered the RV lifestyle. They are pros at RVing on a budget, and I gained quite a bit from attending those classes. Nick, following a newspaper career, began publishing with Terry’s help The Gypsy Journal, a newspaper about RVing for RVers. Those of you among my readers who are RVers should check out his publication at GypsyJournal.net . We brought in the slides before the morning got away from us and headed to the town’s free dump station, a very nice facility not far from the elks. We waited our turn behind another elk RV making the weekly circuit to unload the tanks, and Randie wondered out loud why they don’t put a donation box out at the very least. Once home, I concentrated on getting the blog posted and cleaning house for anticipated company. I picked up handfuls of lobster guts off the carpet and swore we would not be purchasing any more stuffed animal (or crustacean) chew toys for Morgan. At 3 p.m., my friend Rich arrived and we greeted each other with a huge bear hug. Rich and his family were very close friends with my family from the time we were born until our early teens. Once both families moved from Southern California in different directions, get togethers became rare and finally stopped. Rich and I had been the best of friends in our childhood, climbing trees as Tarzan and Jane (I was Jane), playing games, and spying on our siblings who also were close in age. Rich, now a fireman and paramedic in Spokane, reconnected with the family when my brother Kurt was undergoing his heart transplant. After a couple hours of reciting memories, his girlfriend arrived and joined in the fun. We went to dinner and spoke of family, the good old days, and brought each other up to date on the progression of our lives. It was a wonderful reunion, and we promised to keep in touch and reconnect the next time we were in the area.

We had a low-key Tuesday morning, finally venturing out for an early matinee featuring Horrible Bosses. This is a great flick that kept us rolling throughout the entire show. It really ranks up there with The Hangover for the script. There were lots of well known actors in the show, and we were both surprised at how BAD they were able to make Colin Ferrel look. We retreated back to the RV as a thunderstorm made it’s way across the area. It is difficult to relate to all the reports of record heat in the rest of the country when we are barely topping 70 degrees here each day. I don’t leave the RV without a sweater lately and have even gone so far as to dig my slippers out of the back of the shoe cubby where we store all the shoes we rarely wear but can’t leave home without. In an RV, your stuff is categorized into need frequently, need rarely, and let’s take it “just in case life throws us a curve ball”. The latter category items go into difficult to access areas such as under the bed, deeply hidden in the back of cabinets, or down in the lower compartments. The bed raises with hydraulic cylinders which I don’t have the strength to lift. I have, however, found that by climbing up on the bed and inching my body weight out toward the foot of the bed, I can take the wild ride with an abrupt end to close the storage area. Yeeehaw!

On Wednesday, Randie decided to tackle the repair of the sleep number bed. This is the second time that the LCD number display has failed requiring the replacement of the handheld control. We hypothesize that the extreme heat is what has done this two years in a row, but we’re really just guessing. Just like we are guessing what number each side of the bed is set at once we set up camp in a new area and altitude. The legs of the digital numbers go gradually, so for a while there are pieces of the digital numbers to act as clues, but for the past month, we’ve been dealing with a blank screen and our own best judgment. Randie got me laughing pretty hard one night when the display was almost completely gone. He said “add some air, I think I’m low”. So I pressed the up arrow key for 15 seconds. The display changed and showed just one lone number segment. He looked at the indiscernible controller and said, “Oh yeah, that’s it”. So he raised the bed, pulled out most of the “just in case life throws us a curve ball” stash, and climbed in to do the repairs. He finished the job surprisingly fast. He explained that a) he’d done the job once before so knew better what he was doing, and b) the new replacement is the upgraded cordless model involving less work without having to thread the cord through the mechanics. I have a feeling that the control of this new remote has just shifted to the other side of the bed. At noon, we headed off to Costco for 2 pointers and provisions. I dropped Randie off at the rig afterwards so he could nap and start cleaning the outside of the RV again – a neverending battle. The man who owns the RV two slots away from us has put quite a shine on his rig and, after a new elk parked in between us, Randie told him he was glad there was an RV between us because the reflective glare was starting to get to him. While the battle over the shiniest RV was waged, I went shopping without much purpose but rather for fun and relaxation. My favorite stop was Jakes DryDock which carries Life is Good products exclusively. I love their stuff, especially the “creamy tees” t-shirts, and they were just finishing up a summer sale so I found lots of things for 50% off. Score! We cashed in a gift certificate at Olive Garden for dinner. They no longer have the shrimp risotto on the menu, but we still left talking about what a great meal we’d just had. I purchased a couple gift certificates a few months back when our Hawaiian Airlines miles were about to expire as a way to generate miles and keep the clock going on our frequent flyer accounts.

We piddled around the RV on Thursday morning until it was time to head to Harry Potter for the matinee. The line had died down so that the theater, while it had quite a few people, was nowhere near full and uncomfortable. Although not my favorite HP film by a longshot, it is a requisite for those who have been enjoying the series. Full of popcorn and soda, we headed to the Coeur D’Alene museum to work off some calories. The facility explains the origins of the town which are rooted in a military fort and later in logging, mining, and mostly tourism surrounding lake recreation. The name is derived from the term given the local Indians when the area was first put on the map. It translates loosely to sharp heart which is a reference to their shrewd trading skills. By the time we finished, the popcorn in our guts had contracted and we were once again hungry. Feeling a quart low on sushi for the past couple weeks, we headed to the place that had been recommended by two different friends over the past week. Perhaps it was the hunger for sushi, but we left feeling that this little town so far from the ocean had just served up a great dinner. I took the car after dropping Randie off at the rig and headed over to Borders. We’ve been hearing that they are closing and I had a gift card to use up. As it turned out, that was the final day for the chain before they entered receivership. I was told that the next day the liquidators would be in charge and the staff had no idea what that meant. I used the gift card on an audio Spanish program with plans of offering basic lessons at the park next Winter and made a mental plan to check back tomorrow on the other things I was interested in.

Randie continued washing and waxing the RV on Friday morning while I snuck back to Borders. The full parking lot was an early indication of what I was to find inside. The store was very full of bargain hunters, although the first stage of the clearance sale was a bit disappointing. Most shelves were marked at only 10% off. At that rate, one could find a better deal through Amazon – even with shipping charges added to the equation. I bought a couple audio books marked 20% off since we are running low on these and decided to try back in a few days to see if the situation betters. Randie was taking a break when I returned, and we decided to visit Mongolian BBQ to turn in our filled punchcard for a BOGO since our days in CDA are coming to a swift close. After lunch, I once again commandeered the toad and headed out to hit two used book stores in CDA to try and offload our used audio books and get some new ones. The first store I hit fancied itself a purveyor of rare and unusual books with no audio books available. The second store had about a dozen romance novels on audio and that was it. The lady drooled over the books I had for sale saying she’d love to have them all in trade. I told her that I had to consider my husband’s tastes and wouldn’t be interested in anything she had. Would she be interested in purchasing the books rather than trade? All she could offer was thirty cents. Seriously? Are you kidding me? It is no wonder that she hasn’t been able to expand her audio section to include books that more than 10% of the public would be interested in. We dined on Mongolian leftovers, watched TV, and played on the laptops until it was time to turn in.

Saturday morning found Randie back on the ladder working on the RV. I am so grateful that he cares so much about the RVs appearance and equally grateful that he doesn’t expect the same fanatic dedication in me to the rig’s interior. Around 11 o’clock, we headed over to Spokane, making a stop for lunch along the way. Scott and Sandy and Bekah came out to the car to greet us and help us carry in the burgers and buns, games, and a couple loads of dirty laundry. While the washing machine did it’s duty, we all sat on the back deck playing games as the dogs ran and romped. We played Guillotine and Ticket to Ride before the clock convinced us it was time to start the BBQ. The burgers and corn on the cob hit the spot as we enjoyed our last evening together for a while. While the gang cleaned up the kitchen, I disappeared to the basement to fold the clothes. When I got back upstairs, all that was left was to mop up the table for another game. What timing. Before we knew it though, it was time to trade hugs and say goodbye for another season. Living this traveling life gives us the gift of seeing new places and meeting new people, but the greatest gift is being able to stay closely in touch with the old friends that can’t be replaced.