Saturday, October 29, 2011


Packing the coach for extended travel is so different than when I was just going to the beach for a week.  I can't believe how much stuff I have loaded into the basement. 

Today I loaded up all the canned goods and found room for everything inside the coach.  I still have two empty storage compartments on the outside on the driver's side that are empty.   Don't know what I should put in them to even out my load.  I'll bet I'm over my weight limit.  I plugged in the refrigerator so tomorrow I can load the meat and dairy.  Then Tuesday morning we leave for Texas.  My neighbors are coming over tomorrow for a wine and cheese Bon Voyage party.  Monday will be for chilling out and taking care of last minute details.

The folding bike fits nicely.

That little black kitty has recently adopted my house as her own.  She is still pretty wild and won't let me pet her but I feed her daily and she comes when called.  My neighbors will feed her while I'm gone.  They think she is cute and try to catch her but she is too slick for them.  I think she may even be adopted by the time I get back. 

I bathed Xi Shi and bought her a new blue dress.  So she is ready to go.  Every time I take a load into the coach she follows me and sits in her seat as if to say, "Let's go."

The cats know something is up and have taken to sitting at the top of the stairs while I'm going in and out of the house with supplies.  They always know when I'm about to leave for a trip and run and hide under the bed.  They don't like to be caught and carried into the coach but once inside they're fine.

So I've had my doctor's appointment, my dentist appointment, my meds refilled, serviced the coach, bought supplies for a month, and secured the house for the winter.  I'm almost ready to go.  

Wednesday, October 26, 2011


You'll seldom experience regret for anything that you've done.  It is what you haven't done that will torment you.  The message, therefore, is clear.  Do it! Develop an appreciation for the present moment.  Seize every second of your life and savor it.  Value your present moments.  Using them up in any self-defeating ways means you've lost them forever.
~~ Wayne Dyer

It's never too late to have a happy childhood.
~~ Wayne Dyer

With half of all marriages ending in divorce maybe we need to look at it in a new way.  Here's my way.  Marriage is like a deck of cards.  In the beginning all you need is two hearts and a diamond.  By the end you wish you had a club and a spade.  And it usually ends up with the two of you not playing with a full deck.

With marriage... you've got to have a sense of humor.  Marriage is hard.  I don't know how people do it.

Monday, October 24, 2011


The beach is my Power Place. The place I go to find peace and tranquility. A place that rejuvenates me. Thankfully, I have lived most of my life along the Gulf Coast.

I believe everyone has a Power Place... a place where we belong on the planet. A place where we feel our strongest physically and mentally. For me, it’s always been the coast.

When I am at the beach looking out to the ocean, I feel at least 20 years younger. I am more at peace with the world than I am at any other location. I am most joyous at the beach. Out there along The Edge of the country is a magical place for all of us to enjoy.

Maybe it’s the salt air, the sound of the waves breaking, the seagulls singing their song, the wind in my hair, the warm sun on my back, the cool water as it washes over my feet, the feel of sand between my toes, or the vastness and power of the ocean. I think it’s all of these and more. Nothing on this planet is as curative as the coast. And it’s free. When you’re on "beach time," everything is go with the flow. No schedules. No rushing. No stress.

It’s essential to my happiness and peace of mind to have access to a coastal environment. The oceans are beautiful and peaceful, strong and majestic, alluring and rejuvenating. Dolphins smile. Pelicans dive. Crabs crawl sideways—how great is that?

Give me a pair of flip flops, my folding chair, my little Shih Tzu by my side, my latest Coastal Living Magazine, fresh seafood for supper, my RV parked nearby with my 2 cats, and happiness rides the sweet breezes. After a while I walk away with a sun-kissed glow on my cheeks and off to have a toast to the shore. Cocktail hour is waiting.

A love letter to the Gulf Coast and Grand Isle, Louisiana:
You’ve seen so much of my life over these many years. You welcomed my mom and dad and me when we visited you when I was a child and especially on my 10th birthday. You taught me how to float when I was 13 and almost drowned when I fell in a deep hole. You gave me a crunchy potato salad but the sand was the best part of our picnic when I was 15. You nourished me and my friends with a wonderful place to play during our teens. You saw my little boy’s first encounter with the sandy beach when he was two. You watched as I drove my VW van loaded with girlfriends into soft sand and got stuck when I was 25. You were the reason I went to work at the State Park so I could be closer to you when I was 30. You gave me many summers to remember throughout my adult life. I even bought a house near you and for a few years I lived with you while in my 50s. We both experienced hurricanes while we were together but we survived. Although I can no longer live with you, I continue to visit you often in my motorhome.

Then when I was 63 you were poisoned on April 20, 2010. You’ve been wronged, sullied, disgraced, and beaten and I want to lie down on your sandy shore and put my arms out and touch your gasping surface to say. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry we did this, that we all did this to you."

I’ll love you always,