MY QUEST FOR FISH TACOS: Redfish Willie’s To The Rescue


June 8

Aransas Pass

I’ve looked forward to this part of our most excellent journey for two weeks. We are now on the coast — my most favorite place on earth to visit. And, since we’re here, my mouth is screaming for  fish tacos. But as we cruise the town for the “restaurant most likely”, the only ones our naked eyes can see are McDonalds, Dairy Queen, Wing Stop, and quite a few Mexican restaurants, none of which I would trust with my specialized craving.

So, here’s the point at which I whip out my trusty phone and Google “Restaurants in Aransas Pass”. Just as I thought, as Google’s list unfurled, until I see a place called Redfish Willie’s Waterfront Grill, located on the marina.

“Betcha they would have fish tacos,” I tell Jeff. “And the marina is easy to find. It would be the place with boats in the water.”

“Okay. Where is it?”

Just finding the place makes us giggle, as we make one wrong turn after the other.

“Great. Reckon it’s even still there? Reckon Google’s playing a trick on us?” I muse out loud.

“Or it’s now a bar full of big ol’ ugly dudes I’d have to whup,” Jeff quips.

With my iPhone in his left hand and the steering wheel in the right, Jeff turns this way and that until we finally arrive at the marina and an expanse of cement.

“Um…reckon this is a road?”

“Try it and see. What do we have to lose?”

So we follow the  cement “road” to a boat storage building. It seems to stop right there until we press onward out of sheer curiosity and — voila! — find that Google really was telling us the truth. There, before us, stands an indoor/outdoor restaurant and a sign saying “Redfish Wilie’s”. Also true, the restaurant is most certainly located on a waterfront.

“Welcome to Redfish Willie’s,” says a cheerful brunette who introduces herself as Jade. “Would you like to sit inside or out?”

Jeff and I look at each other. “In there,” I answer.

As she directs us to a table, a friendly server named Debbie greets us and hands us a menu.

“What can I bring y’all out to drink?”

“I’ll have a beer,” Jeff says.

“And I’ll try a Bloody Mary,” I add, feeling adventurous.

As we study simple black-and-white paper menus, I point out to Jeff that, Redfish Willie’s does indeed offer tacos made with either fish or shrimp. After Debbie tells us that the “house” fish is redfish, I order my tacos with blackened redfish; Jeff orders a basket of fried  shrimp and fish.

After we have been sipping our drinks for awhile, Debbie presents our food. Seeing three soft, corn tortilla tacos heaped with blackened fish and cilantro with a mango garnish, I spoon the mixture onto the first taco, bite into it, and close my eyes, as I savor the combination of flavors: sweet mango, piquant cilantro , and smoky seasoning that instantly sends me to my “happy place”.

While we dine,  I  watch the people and take in the sights and the feel of the place. Red, yellow, and blue “Rock the Dock”  tee-shirts hang outside the bar. Couples lean back, swirl their wine glasses, and relax. Families who appear to be on vacation sit back and enjoy their children. For the most part, no one is dressed up. Shorts, tee-shirts, and flip-flops appear to be the unofficial mode of dress.

As we pop the last bites of shrimp or fish into our mouths, crumple our napkins, and push back our plates, Debbie comes around to tell us about the new pastry chef. The one who makes outstanding asparagus soup. One and the same one who concocts to-die-for almond tarts and Oreo pie.

“Have you two saved room for dessert?”

At first, we say no. At first. Then, our resolve weakens. We trade grins that we know mean “Here we go…again!”

“Hey, babe, how  about sharing something? Then we would get only half as fat.”

As Debbie promised, the small pie with its creamy chocolate center, slivered almond top, and mini-scoops of ice cream with chocolate syrup is perfect, in size and substance.

After paying the bill and giving both Debbie and Jade my business card and the address to KimTerrysBlog, we thank both women. Jeff snaps off a picture of Jade, Debbie, and me before we leave with full tummies and satisfied minds.

We plan to return to Redfish Willie’s, soon. That’s a fact. We’re already planning what we’ll order next time. But more important is that  I want to share this marina restaurant with you.

What and where was the last restaurant you discovered? Jeff and I would love to try it ourselves and, I’m sure, so would other readers. I love reading your comments. Please post them immediately below this post by scrolling down to the “Comments” box.

Stay tuned for our next adventure. There’s just no telling what we two crazy “vintage honeymooners” will get into next.

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ON THE ROAD AGAIN: “Winding toward Wimberley on the Square”


June 6

Wimberley on the Square

I’ve wanted to explore Wimberley  and its shops since I heard about it, three years ago. As a hard-core shopper, I had yearned to see and experience it to its fullest.  At last, since we were in the general vicinity of it, Jeff and I day-tripped over there on June 6.  True to its reputation, Wimberley on the Square offered far more than I expected.

For any of you who want to scope out this picturesque shopping mecca, it is nestled in the hills on Ranch Road 12, near Dripping Springs. This little town holds something for everyone who loves one-of-a-kind clothing, accessories, toys, or home furnishings, or for anyone drawn to boutiques or restaurants. In fact, the only “disappointment” was that we got there later and has less time to spend, that afternoon, than we had hoped.

First on the docket was The Old Mill Store, which offered a cornucopia of souvenirs, toys, and boutique items. I found a mint-green tee-shirt emblazoned with “Ranch Road 12 — Wimberley, Texas” on the front and back. So, I snatched it up, thankful I hadn’t squandered the money on a shirt, somewhere else.

Yes, the store had tee-shirts, short-sleeve and long, in every size and color. As if a rainbow of teeshirts in a wide range of sizes weren’t enough, we found vats of Blue Bell Ice Cream in at least eight different flavors in a case at the back of the store.

Blue Bell. Whoa. Time for a break, already. Our double-scoop cups piled high with strawberry ice cream (for Jeff) and Triple Chocolate  with Cookies and Cream (for me) deserved our full attention while we savored  every creamy spoonful we poked into our waiting mouths.

But, sad to say, all tasty things eventually come to an end. Gathering up our napkins, spoons, and cups, we dumped them into the trash and explored the rest of the store where the merchandise got pricier toward the back. Handcrafted handbags, imported gold and silver jewelry, “statement” pieces for the home, and handcrafted toys were only some of what we saw. One toy that fascinated me was a hand-carved kaleidoscope that held me spellbound with its endless variations of colors and patterns.

The next store I took in, while Jeff took a business call, was one called The Gypsy Market specializing in Bohemian fashion including long skirts, scarves, bags, and jewelry that you just will not find in mainstream stores. I purchased a “Broken Stones” ring. The single multi-colored stone was actually made up of several broken and pieced back together in a whole new creation set in Peruvian silver.

By the time I left The Gypsy Market, store owners were beginning to lock up for the day. I had time for only one more shop, so I breezed into the Queen Bee where I found Chala and Montana West handbags, a long teal scarf in a yellow peacock pattern,  Kenny Ma jewelry, and an assortment of dips and salsas all made in Texas.

Hadt, we  these and other gracious merchants been willing to stay open at least one or two more hours, I’d have been glad to relieve them of a few pieces of inventory so they wouldn’t have to keep track of them. Yes, I’m that kind of “giver”.  Alas, we had a newly-shorn dog back “home” and growling stomachs, to boot. Jeff had promised that, before we left New Braunfels, we would have some German food, so we stopped at Friesenhaus.

Now, as we batten the hatches on our RV and prepare to drive down to the Texas gulf coast, we have only to remember the time we spent with family and the sights we saw in New Braunfels, Gruene, Wimberley, Landa Park, and many other attractions. Although we couldn’t see it all, especially the Snake Farm Zoo on Interstate 35, What we didn’t see this time around will definitely be a sight worth returning for in the future.

Do you like to travel? What is one of your favorite towns to explore? What is it about that town that keeps you returning for more? Let us know! Jeff and I are always up for a  road trip to a town we haven’t been to.

Enjoy this post? Please let me know by scrolling down and leaving a comment in the box below. I love hearing from you!  Up next, at the device handiest to you, my post about our sojourn down to the Texas coastal towns of Aransas Pass, Port Aransas, Rockport, and Corpus Christi. Stay tuned for the next adventures of Jeff and  Kim, the vagabond “Vintage Newlyweds”.

 

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ON THE ROAD AGAIN: Going Gruene or Going Home


June 5

Gruene, Texas

When a late-afternoon rain shower and too many other stops along the way  cut into our plans to wander into Wimberly, we decided to go to the Gruene Historical District. It’s not as if we hadn’t been there, already, as Jeff grew up in New Braunfels, and I had visited both areas with my parents and Jeff, so I thought I already knew all there was to know about the community until I picked up the 2016-2017 edition of The New Braunfelser, a local tourist magazine about the City of New Braunfels and its tourist sights.

According to the “History of Gruene” blurb,  the  community was named after a German immigrant named Ernst Gruene who, along with his wife and sons, arrived at the recently-established  New Braunfels in 1845 where they discovered that prime acreage had already grown scarce. Then, just across the  Guadalupe River, they chose to buy nearby river frontage, and thus founded Gruene.

Who would have thought, more than a hundred years later, that such a settlement would become a trendy tourist sight for eating,, shopping, listening to country music, and dancing? Most likely, not Ernst Gruene.

Our first stop, as we ducked and dodged raindrops, was The Grapevine, a winery that offered samples and served  glasses and bottles of wine and beer. There, we relaxed over a glass of blackberry wine  and a bottle of imported beer that, according to its description, left notes of coffee and chocolate on the taster’s palate.

Rendered euphoric by our libations, we strolled the shops, purchased picture postcards for family members, and browsed a rainbow of Gruene tee-shirts which, even on clearance, cost more than we wanted to pay. As we left the store, Jeff paused as he looked across the street.

“So, now what?” I asked, recognizing that gleam in his eyes.

“We can eat something here or go home,” Jeff said. “What would you rather do, next?”

“We could eat at The Grist Mill, again.”

“‘Spose we could,  but don’t  you want to try something new?” he asked.

I linked my arm through his. “Y’know? You’re right. Lead the way,”

So we walked back to our pickup and headed on down the street to street to Adobe Verde, a Tex-Mex restaurant. Since “Mexican” is my go-to eat-out food, I let Jeff lead me to the brightly-colored building with the green tin roof. Our server, whom I’ll call “Casey”, was quick to take our drink orders and give us a few minutes to study the menu as well as offer helpful suggestions about our drink and entree orders.

After studying the menu, I chose one of my favorite Mexican dishes, a Chili Relleno stuffed with ground beef and smothered with a tangy ranchera sauce, rice, and borracho beans, and garnished with lettuce and tomato, pico de gallo, and  a dollop of guacamole.  Jeff chose Pollo Arroyo, a plump chicken breast smothered with spinach and cream sauce with the same sides and garnishes. He ordered Shiner Bock beer and I had a Black Barrel margarita with a splash of Midori (a melon-flavored liqueur), salt on the rim, and a wedge of lime. The chips were crisp and held their own underneath the salsa that delivered that perfect amount of heat.

As we got up from the table, Jeff left our  cards for our server along with our debit card. We were stuffed senseless and wished for a wheelbarrow valet to roll us out to our truck. As we drove home to our RV, Jeff and I agreed to take in Wimberly, the next day.

So, have you explored Gruene, yet? If no, what are you waiting for? If so, please share the name of your  favorite store or restaurant and what they are known for,

I always love hearing from you. Please scroll down to the  “comments” box below this blog and leave yours.

On its way to an iPad or tablet, Smartphone or iPhone,  Mac or PC near you is the next  post about  our jaunt to Wimberly. Stay tuned  because you just never know where we  crazy “Vintage Honeymooners” will turn up  next!

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“THE CUSTOMERS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT”: Or Are They?


Hill Country RV Park

Sunday, June 4

What a difference a soft, cleansing morning rain can make! With a rested body and renewed mind, I am revising the draft of a blog post that teetered on the edge of being a “downer”, after some negative stuff that happened, yesterday.  But, as I said, that was yesterday. Today is today. Now,  as I watch raindrops bead the outside of our kitchen window while I sip “cuppa” number-two in our air-conditioned RV, I’m in a much more positive frame of mind.

Friday presented us with a mixed bag of negatives and positives. The positives,  a  visit with Jeff’s son and family and, most important, our waking up to each other. The negatives were that our truck, that we expected to be ready by Saturday around three p.m., would not be ready until Monday around noon. In the meantime, we had clothes to wash, cards to mail, groceries to buy. We needed “wheels”. But, when Jeff called about renting a car,  the phone rep  gave him grief for  calling  at the end of the day.Not letting my husband get in a word edgewise, this rep put him on  hold, told him that it would  take an hour to fill out the paperwork, paid little to no attention to our situation. Jeff’s calls got dropped multiple times, putting him through needless cycles of automated button-crunching.

Hold on a minute, I thought, as I heard my husband become more and more agitated. What happened to  “the customer is always right”?

In the past, anyone who worked with the public had the axiom drilled into their heads. Now, it seemed to have become a thing of the past. For example, yesterday, employees in three places we went showed us, beyond a doubt, that they had never heard of that principle.

First, you need to know that New Braunfels is Jeff’s hometown. We love seeing its sights, soaking up its centuries-old German heritage, and exploring nearby Gruene. We had  groceries and RV supplies to buy, but we still expected  to have fun, as always. But even otherwise good places have stupid people who do or say stupid things. Things that make us wonder: “Isn’t the customer still always right?”

First on Saturday’s list of errands was Wal-Mart. I realized, long ago, that no matter where it was located, Wal-Mart is still WAL-MART.  Stuff happens there that causes reasonable people to scratch their heads. On top of that, it was a Saturday when weird people act even weirder.  We had made a beeline to the RV section to get doodads and gizmos that would make our vagabond lives as simple and easy as they could possibly be. After tossing this and that off the shelves and into our basket, we were leaving that section of the store when I remembered some clothing I needed.

“Hey, babe,” I said,  “I think I’ll go check out their shorts and capris. Maybe even look for a spare bra.”

“Okay,” said Jeff. “Go ‘head on. I need to find some shorts, too. I’ll come find you.”

So, off I skedaddled to Ladies’ Apparel and slowed down when I saw a rack of navy, electric blue, fuchsia, and khaki shorts and capri pants in various sizes. They looked like they might be comfortable, but I needed to try them on, first. But when I got close to the fitting room, I found a long line. A long, long line. To make matters worse, as I waited my turn, I  realized an urgent need to hurry off to the restroom, but when I found it, I saw that a man — a man! — about to clean the restroom. In fact, his cart was blocking the door.

Okay, Kim, I thought.  You can do this. Just pay for these items, first, and try them on when you get back to the RV. Whatever doesn’t fit, you can always bring it back with the receipt.

But when I unzipped my purse and looked for my debit card, I remembered that Jeff still had it. Now,  I really, REALLY had to “go”. Querulous as a  two-year-old lost in a mall, I pecked out a quick “Hey, babe, where R U?”

After a couple of seconds, I checked my phone.

“Come to the fitting room,”Jeff had replied.

So I did and, boy, did I ever tattle on that man cleaning the bathroom.

“Tell him you have to go. Make HIM leave.” Jeff said.

So off I marched up front to the women’s restroom and spoke in my bossiest voice.

“Hel-loooo. I really have to go. NOW.  I’ll leave a puddle if you don’t let me in.”

“Use the other restroom,” he barked.

So off to the back side of the store I trotted with steam spewing out of my ears. When I finished, I wandered up one aisle and down another until I found Jeff waiting near the dressing room. Getting the attention of “Fitting-Room Lady”, he told her that he needed to go in with me because I’d had shoulder surgery and still needed  help dressing.

Surrounded by watchful eyes, the lady shook her head, at first, until Jeff  reasoned with  her. So, a few turns later, she  motioned both of us into a dressing room where, with my husband’s help, I tried on and cast off the shorts that did not fit right, but a bra that fit as though it had saved itself just for me.

After the Wal-Mart ordeal, we swung into  McDonald’s for two  grilled-chicken snack-wraps and “senior” iced teas. They were the same snack wraps that we’ve had at countless other McDonalds, everywhere, for the past three years  and the same Jeff had ALWAYS been able to find, no matter the location.

But not today. And not at this location. The  young lady at the counter stared at us with  open-mouthed stupefaction as if she had witnessed an alien de-boarding a UFO in the parking lot.

Snack-wraps? Um…we don’t have those, sir.”

Jeff flashed his famous grin. The one that could charm me into eating worms.

“Come on. Of course, y’all do. I’ve had them at every McDonalds,” he protested.

“Whadda they want?”  a co-worker asked.

“Snack wraps,” she said, with a shrug that seemed to say “Imagine that!”

“Don’t have ’em,” he growled.

“We have sausage  burritos,” she offered, hope glistening in her dark brown eyes.

“Sorry,” said Jeff, sliding the debit card back into his wallet.  “Not gonna happen. Gotta have snack wraps.”

The scenario we had just witnessed reminded me of a scene from a movie where the waitress had told a customer that the toasted BLT she ordered was impossible to make until the customer reminded her that, since the restaurant served burgers and breakfast, they were bound to have bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes. And if they had some kind of toaster? Well, there you have it.

As we wandered out to the car, I remembered my experience waiting on customers. No matter how crazy the order was, our manager helped us find a workaround that would benefit the customer.

“They did so have snack wraps. They had chicken, and soft tortillas. We were the customers, darn it. They could have come up with something had they wanted our money, badly enough.”

The weirdness didn’t stop there. When we left the Arby’s with our tummies full at last, we stopped at a camping-goods store for the supplies we didn’t find at Wal-Mart but nearly wilted in the heat before it was all over.

“Man, it’s hot! I feel like just walkin’ outta here,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,  I know, I’m going to the front to ask them to turn up the A/C,” I said, turning on my heel.

But after I told someone up front that we were going to leave unless they cranked up the air, a manager who looked younger than my sons were handed me some half-baked excuse.

” Ma’am, I can understand you’re hot, but it is, after all, a hot day out there.”

“Hold it right there,” I spat, as my ire gathered steam. .”I don’t want your excuses. My husband and I are so hot in your store that we’re about to leave without buying anything.”

But, as we continued to shop, the temp did not change. In fact, it grew hotter.

At the register, the cashier admitted that he got docked if he dared to monkey with the thermostat — even at a customer’s request. And, since that day, several other McDonalds employees have told us that they stopped carrying the snack wraps we love. And when I posted about the restroom incident on Facebook, many of my friends agreed that times were changing, and that hiring a  man to clean the women’s restroom was a new normal.  Times had indeed changed. We could choose to crumble  or cope.

No longer is the customer always “right”, because the word, as we know it, no longer seems to exist.

Or does it? Has “right” been redefined in a way we don’t recognize it, anymore?

I love to hearing from you and receiving your comments. Please leave them in the “comments” section following this post.

Coming to a tablet, iPad, Mac, or iPhone near you, more travel adventures from the ” Vintage Honeymooners”.

Stay tuned!

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A NEW START: On the Road to New Braunfels…Eventually


6-2-17

Hill Country RV Park

New Braunfels, Tx

Before driving our pre-owned RV and pickup off the lot, last Wednesday, we had agreed to stay local for the first week. So, from May 25-June 1, we hung out at Treetops RV Village in Arlington, Texas, in case we discovered any kinks in either one. Both RV and vehicle behaved like model children who knew their parents were watching.

The week flew by, with Jeff and me learning our home’s whims and little ways. Almost every night, we blazed a trail to our storage facility where we dug out boxes of items we had hoped to use — such as the toaster oven and the standard toaster — only to realize they hogged our kitchen’s counter space. So, back to the facility they went, to be unearthed if we upgraded to a bigger RV.  But most important of all, we reduced the rubble from F5 status to at least F2 — F1 on a good day. We were finally ready to venture out.

Yesterday, June 1, we awoke with every nerve pinging. We were all dressed in our traveling clothes and caps and had already connected the RV to that doohickey that holds it in place in the truck bed when we discovered one of our three slides was stuck. Seeing our distress, Treetops employees Jim and Franny putt-putted over in their little golf buggies to assist us. Together, the three of them pushed, prodded, and flipped the switch that retracts or expands all three slides, one by one.Only  until Jeff called  Jeter, the Fun Town employee who led us through the walk-through before we left the lot, was he able to solve the mystery: a tiny, black reset button located near the battery. Once he mashed that button, the slide slid.

After we drove away from Treetops, we veered west on Interstate 20, and then south on Interstate 35. Jeff and I were close to Alvarado when it dawned on us that the A/C that had been turning my knees into knee-sicles, a week ago, was by no stretch of imagination, blowing  cool air,

As soon as we could find a gas station, we stopped to buy cans of Dr. Pepper, let me find a restroom, and Russet, a patch of grass. Jeff called his son, John, to ask him who he knew on his end who could fix our A/C. At the time, we thought it was a matter of stopping at a  Ford dealership. After calling the name of the person John gave, Jeff arranged to leave  the truck at an automotive shop, the next morning. Toward the end of the afternoon, the breeze grew cooler, reminding us of why God gave us windows.

When we pulled into our pull-through site at Hill Country RV Park, wind-blown and sunburned, we had just enough time to unhook, expand the slides, and brush our teeth before rushing off to watch one of Jeff’s grandsons play basketball. By the time we got home from one and a half games and stopped at Taco Cabana, we fell comatose quicker than you can say “fajita bowl”.

Yes, we were two pooped puppies. So, when Jeff told me that Russet and I should stay in bed and rest, this morning, I didn’t argue with Jeff.

“I’m going to go over there, drop off the truck, and be back. You rest, babe,” he said, before giving me a good-bye peck before he left for Landa Tire and Automotive. After he returned, we waited word from the “other” Jeff at Landa.

As I’m writing this post, we  have found out that our vehicle will not be ready until Monday, around noon. So we have a choice of putting our son and daughter-in-law out or renting a car to get around in the meantime. Something tells me we’ll choose Door Number Two.

So, once again, Life has been eavesdropping. We’re not only in Jeff’s hometown but, also, one of the prime summer vacation hotspots in Texas. Oh, well. We still have the next six days to see as many of the sights as we can see. Hey, with any luck, we just might get to see at least one or two of them.

Coming soon at your friendly neighborhood PC, iPad, smart phone, or tablet near you: a running account of our adventures in New Braunfels, as soon as we get our wheels back.

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From the ‘Treetops’: Getting Ready to Roll


5-30-17

Well, here we go, ready to hit the road…almost. On Thursday, May 25, as soon as the money for the house hit the bank, Jeff and I headed in to A & L Imports in Colleyville to pick up our Ford F-350 that our sales rep, David Pickle, had been holding for us. Once we paid for it and drove off the lot, we headed down south to Fun Town RV  in Cleburne, where we hauled off our fifth-wheel RV,  a 2011 Wildcat, after going through the required walk-through session intended to orient us to it.  Hours later than we expected, we were, at last, towing our newly-purchased home-on-wheels behind our equally newly-purchased pickup. With our wheels and our RV, we were all ready to hit the road, the next day, right?

Whoa. Not so fast! As we had discussed on the week before we moved, we were going to stay in a local RV park while we put things away, oriented ourselves to living in an RV, and allowed Jeff to keep his doctor’s appointment. Most importantly, we had to move out of our stick-and-brick home that I moved into in September 2006. Although the new owners had specified that we vacate the house by six p.m on Friday, May 26, they had never laid eyes on us, so they had no way of knowing that expecting us, “vintage youngsters” to move that fast by that date might be asking a lot. As a friend had said he wanted some of the items we were going to sell, he came over to buy them and help us get out of there. Everywhere I looked, every drawer and closet I opened, we had something we needed to move, leaving even more convinced that it’s much harder to move out than it is to move in. As it happened, we were not out of there until we had moved three loads. Before they started moving Load #3, I knew my back would not let me move so much as a pencil, so I agreed to hang with our dog, Russet, amid piles of clothing on hangers, dishes and glassware in boxes, and miscellany in bags, at our space at Treetops RV Village, in Arlington. Although surrounded by schtuff and junk, Russet and I hung tight until after midnight, when. Jeff and I began to text each other about his estimated time of arrival, or ETA. At around two a.m., I received the text I’d been waiting for: that he was on his way with a sack of burgers from Denny’s Restaurant, the only place open at that wee hour.

Since the day we took up residence here, after pulling box after box out of storage, we discovered that some items we had looked forward to around would not work within our limited space.  Our china could break. We lacked counter space for both our coffeemaker and my beloved Keurig. And the many pictures that had hung on the wall along the staircase of our previous home would be destroyed in the living area once the sliders moved in. Knowing that we might upgrade to an RV with more space, we socked these things back into storage until we had the space for them.

About two days later, we had problems finding the switch for the water heater and discovered other glitches that needed fixing before we would feel comfortable heading out.  Today, even more glitches presented themselves, but Jeff assures me we’ll be ready to roll out of here on Thursday, June 1.

Even though we had envisioned ourselves immediately rolling out of here on the day after we closed on our house, we can’t help feel relieved that we took our time to become acclimated to our RV and put away whatever could weigh us down.

So, on Thursday, June 1, we’re set to roll on south to New Braunfels. See my post titled “Shhhh…Your Life is Listening”, as I’ve learned that plans, however certain we would like them to be, are written in sand.

So, readers, who among you has lived or traveled with an RV of any kind? What lessons did living in it teach you? Please leave them in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.  Stay tuned for our next RV adventure tale, coming soon to a desktop, laptop, or tablet near you.

SHHHH…YOUR LIFE IS LISTENING: When ‘Best-Laid Plans’ Run Afoul or Amok


05-26-17

Well, the moment for which my husband and I have been waiting months has finally come to pass. After closing on our house, one day, we finalized the purchases of our Ford F350 Lariat at A&L Imports and, almost in the same bated breath, plunked down the rest of the price on our fifth-wheel RV, a 2011 Forest River Wildcat, at Fun Town RV. As we pulled away, we reminded each other of so many other times we’ve seen others pulling RVs behind their trucks, we said, “There go Jeff and Kim!”

Now, it’s finally our turn to say “Here go Jeff and Kim!”. But I hasten to say that, just about the time we had it down as to how all of these events — the sale of the house and the purchases of our truck and RV — would come to pass, something or somebody threw a monkey wrench into our plans. It was almost as if Life did his impressions of The Three Stooges’ character, Curly.

“Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk” he would chuckle when he played an evil joke on Moe, the mean one. Well, so goes Life. I’ve had it happen so many times that, every time I tell someone what is going to happen, I hold my breath and wait for “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk. I’ll fix you. It’s all going to mush, those plans of yours.”

And so it goes. Our plans to get out and travel, although they came true, morphed into something slightly different from what we expected.

For one, we were originally set to “close” on the house on Thursday, May 25 before we saw the next text message from the title company:  about closing on Wednesday, May 24. Well, that was a pleasant surprise.

But, then, the new buyers allowed us only 48 hours to move out.

“Not a problem,” we thought, until we started trying to vacate our house within that period. Boy, did we ever realize we had amassed a lot of junk!

Another change: we decided to stay local for the first week, to make sure everything is in good working order. Besides, Jeff has an appointment with his cardiologist. Gotta make sure the ol’ ticker’s not going to give out. So, we reserved a space at Trader’s Village. Only, it didn’t turn out to be Trader’s Village in Grand Prairie, which would have allowed us free admission to the grounds. Only it didn’t, because we decided to put down at Treetops RV Village in Arlington.

Then there was the “Big Truck Switch” that resulted in our getting a better truck at a better price.

On the big day, when we drove down to Cleburne to pay for our high-dollar “baby”, someone ran into a light pole and blew a transformer at the RV lot. And when each of our purchases ran longer than expected.

There is some truth to the fact that people should not broadcast their plans. Doesn’t James warn us against it in the Bible, advising us to say, instead, “If God wills,…?”

Or, how about the wise soul who advised us not to “count our chickens before they hatch.”? Once upon a time, someone, somewhere, on up the line knew what dingbats we people can be about telling everyone about what we’re going to do before the day comes. And don’t even get me started about what we tend to do on Facebook!

Still, anyone knowing how Jeff and I have dreamed of this day when I would finally be retired and we would sell the house, liberate ourselves from our car payments, and hit the road.

So, dear readers, what day in your future have you looked forward to? How many people have you told about it, in advance? And what actually happened after you told everyone in the Free World?

I look forward to reading your comments. Until the next time, when I related the first=hand lessons Jeff and I have learned the hard way about living in an RV.