Thank You!!!

Just want to give a shout out to all the readers: my blog has reached 1000 views! Thank you so much!
To commemorate the occasion, here's my home sweet home in all its glory:

What a Beaut'!

I was struck this weekend with the thought, "I'm about 100 days to my wedding day." It's getting real, ya'll. Some days it feels like I'll never leave this tiny house on wheels, but the clock is ticking, and I know I'll be out of here before I know it. Don't worry though! I still have plenty of stories to share about my time as a vagabond (guys, I still haven't gotten through the winter tales yet). And now I'm singing Cher's Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves... If you don't know it, look it up!
Anyway, we still have 100 days of fun left, and adventures are still being had. I'm glad you're on this journey with me because writing about it helps me keep it light. Once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading this.

You really rock, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise,
-Ray

PS: I'm on Facebook at /AdventuresinTrailerParking and Instagram @adventures_in_trailer_parking

Let Them Eat Cake... Please!

The other night I had a nightmare. It was probably the worst dream I've ever had. I woke up upset, a little scared, and a little angry. I have to share with you how my dream went. 

It's the day of my wedding. It's a beautiful spring day (first clue that something is off since I'm getting married in September), and the sun is shining through the windows of my RV when I wake up. In my dream, I'm having a day wedding (not so in real life), and it turns out that I missed my alarm going off, and I've woken up late. Well the first thing I have to do is get my hair done, but the hair stylists are running later than I am! We rush to the venue (which in my dream changed to an old church in the country, not the beautiful, old hotel that the real me picked), and start getting as ready as we can before our hair is done. Time is flying by. So by the time my frantic bridesmaids, mom, and sister get to get our hair done the wedding is starting much later than it was supposed to. I also ended up with hair that looked like it just stepped off the set of a Molly Ringwald movie. 

Not cool. To top it off, the dress I'm wearing isn't my dress. It's ill-fitting, kind of raggedy, and I basically look homeless. 

But the worst thing is that with all the running late stuff, the reception was cut off. So we have the ceremony (which didn't stick out in my dream, so I'm guessing it sucked), then everyone just kind of filters out and leaves. Including Ross and me! We didn't dance. We didn't eat. We didn't get CAKE!

My beautiful buttercream-white-chocolate-raspberry-amazing cake. It's the best cake I've ever had in my real life, but my subconscious hates me and did not allow me to eat it. I guess even in my dreams I'm on a diet. Lame.

So Ross and I leave. Just leave. No grand entrance, so of course no great send-off. We just get in the car and head back to... THE HOUSE HE CURRENTLY LIVES IN.

Not only are we not going to our own first place together, but to a house that holds five people, two dogs, and a loose interpretation of the word "clean." Not a honeymoon suite by any stretch of the imagination. 

But we're not done yet. Ross plays on a competive Whirlyball team. If you don't know what Whirlyball is, Google it. Google it now. Then go play. It's so much fun! But only at the right time. When your new husband takes you to his dirty, old house and DROPS YOU OFF there saying, "I've got Whirlyball practice. I'll see you later," it is not fun. It sucks.

To recap: I was late to my wedding. My hair looked like a tornado filled with Mack trucks. My dress looked like I stole it violently off a bag lady. I didn't have a reception. I didn't have a honeymoon. I didn't even have a wedding night. And let's not forget that I never had my wedding cake either.

It's was horrible! Luckily, it was just a dream. There's no way I'll sleep in on my wedding day. I still can't sleep at night on Christmas Eve, and I know SPOILER ALERT that there is no Santa Claus. I'll be up at 4am for my 6:30pm wedding, I'm sure. There's no way we're not having a reception, and I'll be danged if I don't get a slice of my own wedding cake! 

May you always eat the cake you paid for,

Ray

PS: Are there any other brides out there that had a nightmare like this? Did your wedding turn out ok anyway?

 

The Lament of a Broke Bride

This evening I met a friend that lives close to my old apartment complex for some Zumba. That's what you do as a bride, work out. All the time. You also eat cake a lot, so really, it's a fair trade.

Anyway, since she lives by where I used to, I left work and got to drive by my old place. I got there in 20 minutes at 5:45 in Dallas. I almost cried. That could be my travel time if I didn't live out in Shady Grove. I could've been home by 6:05! 

So you can fully comprehend my suffering, I'll explain. I live so far away from civilization that people who live in DFW have never heard of it. It takes me an HOUR to get to work in the morning and another HOUR to get home. That's also on a toll road, so I pay for the experience. I haven't calculated it yet, but I bet I spend close to $10 in tolls everyday. To drive in bumper to bumper traffic both ways. So to drive by my old, wonderful, centrally located apartment 40 minutes earlier than I would ever get to Shady Grove hurt my heart a little bit. I miss that place. 

But then I think about how little I pay to live at Shady Grove (and that it's temporary). I'm consoled by the fact that my last rent bill (including water and electricity) was under $400. I'm not as broke as I could be. I'm going to pay off my credit card in 4 months (less than that if I stop buying stuff for my honeymoon). I can still go out with my friends (and not worry about bills). And most importantly, I'm not worried about paying for my wedding!

As much as I miss my old stomping grounds, I know it was the right-ish decision for me to move to Shady Grove. Plus, Ross and I will be in our own place soon enough. And who knows? We might move back towards the city. 

Here's hoping,

Ray

Cold Snap

As I said before, when it's the coldest winter you've seen in your lifetime, and you're living in a tiny "house" with literal paper walls, heating becomes paramount. Heat comes from the propane tanks that are hooked up to the trailer. They are larger than a normal propane tank that you might have for your outdoor grill, but when it's cold as a well digger's shovel outside, the heat runs constantly, and you can run out of propane very quickly. When you run out of propane, several things happen.
First, you don't want to get out of bed. Oh, yeah, the propane will ALWAYS run out in the middle of the night. You won't want to get out of bed because it's the only warm spot in your whole house.
Second, you'll get miserable and angry because you're freezing, but still have to go to work. I am not Elsa from Frozen.

You're insane.

Third, when, for reasons like procrastination or forgetfulness, you don't called the RV park office to get your propane tanks refilled, your water pipes can freeze. That means you have no water.
It's just a bad scenario all around.
Sometimes, however, you just aren't home to know your propane tanks ran out in the first place. This happened to me in March. Ross and I had gone to Aggieland, that is, College Station (WHOOP) to take our engagement photos. While we were leaving to come home on Sunday, a crazy cold front came through North Texas. We literally drove on ice for miles on the way back. When we got closer to Dallas, and road workers had spread sand on the roads, and we made better time, but a 3 hour trip took us about 5 hours total. By the time I got home, the temperatures had dropped significantly. I think it was 12 degrees out. When I park outside my trailer, I run in expecting to be greeted by a purring cat and warm, snuggly air. WRONG!
The propane tanks had run out while I was gone! This is what I came home to instead:

Icicles from my faucets and ice in the toilet. That's how cold it was inside my trailer. It makes me shudder just thinking about it. Luckily, I remembered and got my propane tanks refilled the next day and made it nice and toasty when I got home from work. Which was good because the icicles may have gotten as big as the ones outside:

Brrrrrrr!!!!

May you ALWAYS be warm when it's cold out (and procrastinate very little),
Ray

The Story of Bob and the Flood

As you know, this winter saw the lowest temperatures in history across the country. Texas was no different. Lucky me, this would be the winter I spend in a tiny place with paper thin walls. I think they are literally made of paper. Paper with a sheet of siding on the outside. Not super conducive to a warm, cozy house. However, the heating system in my RV works great. It definitely helps against the chill of winter outside. Until it runs out. If your propane runs out, you can't cook food, you can't heat water, and you can't heat your house. Your house with paper walls. Did I mention record low temperatures outside?
Thankfully, I had an electric blanket on my bed and a space heater (you know, the one I use for warm showers), so I could do ok until I got my propane tanks refilled. However, when it's freezing outside, the water also freezes. When I don't have water, I can't take a bower, I can't water my cat, and I don't have anything to drink either. Except wine. I have wine. But after a while of drinking wine every night, you get dehydrated. And when you don't have any water, are dehydrated, and only have a space heater to heat your entire house against degrees of 20 and lower (in Texas, that's SUPER DUPER COLD), you do the only thing you can do - call your soon-to-be father-in-law to come help you.
I've said before, I have the best parents-in-law ever, and it's true. When I tell Bob that my water is frozen and I don't know what to do, he and Fran come out to my RV, with sandwiches from Arby's no less, to see what they could do. When they get there, Fran and I eat our sandwiches at the table and Bob goes out to do manly stuff involving wrenches and gloves and spigots. It's taking him a while, and every now and then he comes in to ask me questions I should, but don't, know the answers to. Like, can the RV park owners thaw my hose for me? Is there a number I can call? Do they have a frozen pipe policy? Hindsight is, of course, 20/20, and I should have read the welcoming packet or the monthly newsletter Shady Grove gave me. If I had, the following wouldn't have happened.
Bob is outside again trying to turn the water off from the source so he can unhook my hose from it and thaw it out. Suddenly, Fran and I hear cursing and running water. Make that gushing water. The spigot broke off and water is spraying EVERYWHERE, mostly on Bob who is trying to shut it off. It's quickly flooding the area behind my trailer and running over to my neighbors' space. They've come out to watch the show. They probably heard Bob cursing. He's German. The man knows how to yell loud curse words. But who could blame him? It's 18 degrees and pitch black out, he's soaking wet with freezing water, and the wind is blowing hard and cold as well. Seeing how the situation has gone from a nuisance to a catastrophe, Fran and I scramble back inside to find a number to call. I finally read the bottom of my welcome flyer, and see there is in fact an emergency number listed. Yay! When I type it in my phone to call, my phone already knows the number. Turns out, it's just the main number for the trailer park. No one answers. Not cool. As we contemplate what to do next, I finally read everything on that flyer. One line says, "During freezes: if no water, do not turn handle to water spicket ,as it will break. Call office." Oops.
They are correct. It will break. And this will happen:

Fran, the cool-headed thinker that she is, says something about the owners living right next to office, and that maybe they could help. I'm anti-social enough that I put off calling the office to refill my propane tanks even though I'm cold in my own home, so I really didn't want to go tell the owners that their new tenant is making them a small pond behind my space. Especially at 10 o'clock at night. But water is still pouring out of the spigot, and we've got to do something. At least Fran went with me.
The owners were watching TV when we walked up, and I had to knock loud enough to bother their dogs for them to notice someone was at their door. When a frazzled Karen (name has been changed to protect the rude) opened the door and heard our lamenting cries, she showed no pity. "Well, you weren't supposed to do that. The handle broke, didn't it?" Me: "I guess so..." Fran: "We don't really know what to do. We've never camped in the winter before and don't really know about the pipes and hoses freezing. Water is getting everywhere. Can you turn the water off for us so we can cap it?" Karen: "No we can't. It would turn off water to the whole park." Me: "...so... What can we do?" Karen: "You'll just have a high water bill."

 

So, we left and went back to the RV. Bob is miserable. I feel terrible. And he has to go to Lowes to get a cap thingie to plug the spigot. While he's gone, Fran and I listen to the soothing sound of water flooding my neighbors stuff and wait. Soon we hear some shouting, and some cursing, but this time it's not from a tall German man, but a woman. Karen came over to inspect the damage. And I guess she saw it.

In what seemed like 15 years, Bob returns and goes to work shutting that stupid spigot off. He tells us when he come back inside that Karen griped at my neighbors for having a bunch of stuff outside their RV (you aren't supposed to store things outside, or, ya know, throw trash on the ground). She also wouldn't let them move their cars out of their parking spots and move them to the office parking lot, even though everything that was wet (so, everything) would be ice by the morning, and they may not even be able to move their cars at all by then. Yeah. Karen is a peach. Granted, this is what my neighbors' space looks like:

But really, Karen, don't we have more important things to be angry about? You're standing in 6 inches of water right now. Whatever. Bob got the water turned off, finally, and looked like he just jumped in a pool with all his clothes on. If he hadn't been shivering, it might have been comical. He and Fran left with a couple of towels, and Bob came back the next day to re-hook up my water hose to the RV. While I was at work, the RV park had fixed the spigot. Thank you. At least Bob had easy work that day. He wasn't too happy about the situation as a whole, but at least he stayed dry this time. And I had water again! It may not have been fun, but it sure was an adventure.

May you always read the fine print and stay warm and dry,

Ray

It's All Fun and Games Until the Meth Heads Show Up - Laundry Day

When I lived in my apartment, laundry was no big deal. I walked a few yards from my bedroom to the laundry closet and did load after load easily. I actually really like folding clothes too. Turn on the TV and fold, fold, fold. Very nice. Living in a trailer park however, I'm back to carrying my clothes in laundry bag over to the laundry facility (luckily this is on-site and I don't have to drive somewhere to do laundry) and washing all my clothes in one load to save time and quarters - just like the good old days back in the dorm.
At the trailer park, the laundry facility, workout room, rec room, and "library" are all connected. Yeah, library. More on that later. When you walk in, you're in the laundry room. It's got one wall of washers, one wall of dryers, and two 8ft plastic tables pushed together in the middle. Sometimes there are chairs to sit on! Passed that is the workout room, which in all honesty, is better than the one at my old apartment. Further back from there is the library and vending machines. Off to the left of that is the rec room that's only open whenever I'm not there to see it. Thursday is ladies card game night. I haven't yet attended.
The first time I did my laundry, I went on a Tuesday evening. I had finally run out of clothes. I had been putting off going to the laundry facility as long as possible. It seemed like a big 'ol boring time. Plus, clothes don't really get that dirty, right? You can wear things more than once, right?

It being a Tuesday, I figured it would be deserted since most people do their laundry on the weekends. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet as I watched TV shows on my laptop with ear buds in and waited on my clothes to wash. I don't know about you, but where (and when) I come from, ear buds in your ears mean you aren't open to having a conversation. However, in Shady Grove, that rule does not exist. When I get to the laundry room, I get my clothes going in the washer and sit down with my laptop. There are two other people doing their clothes, but one guy has his in the dryer already. He'll be gone soon. The other person was a cute little old lady (retirement village, told ya.) who was sitting and waiting on her clothes to wash too. So I sign in to Hulu after the precursory stay-away-and-don't-talk-to-me half smile to my neighbors and settle in for some Sleepy Hollow and Big Bang Theory catching up. It's easy to avoid eye contact when you have a 17 inch screen in your face, but the chairs are not comfortable, and the machines take forever to wash your clothes. I had to get up a few times to stretch my legs, and every time someone would say something to me. I'm not an unfriendly person, but I don't really feel in my comfort zone at zero dark thirty in a new place with strangers around me. Though the man now folding his tighty whities seemed safe enough, I just felt out of place talking to him about the weather. Finally, I put my clothes in the dryer. The lady was getting her clothes out of the dryer, and the man had left. While starting my clothes in the dryer, the lady strikes up a conversation with me about what I do for a living. At the time, I was working at a horse riding center for children and adults with special needs. Turns out her granddaughter has a disability, so she was very interested in learning more. It was a nice conversation. But she soon left. Finally, I was alone with the sound of a dryer in the background and that Ichabod Crane character in my ears.

You're welcome.

Since the dryers are old, it takes two cycles to actually dry your clothes in one. I was in the laundry facility really late. The cool thing about the laundry facility is that the door automatically locks, and you have to be a resident to get the code to open the door. What's not cool is that when I walk up to the laundry facility, I usually find the door like this:

I guess the old lady left the door open when she left, or the next guests were actually residents. In any case, I'm pretty sure they were high on meth. The girl had the greasy, two-toned hair of someone who stopped caring about life, was in Spongebob pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her companion was a guy in sweat pants, Carhart jacket, and house slippers. They came in and looked at the washers, went to the vending machines, came back and looked at the washers some more. Since I had my ear buds in, I couldn't hear much of their conversation, but then my dryer quit and I started folding clothes with my laptop off. Turns out, THEY HAD NO IDEA HOW TO WORK THE WASHING MACHINE. This couple was in their 20s, my guess is living alone there at the trailer park, and couldn't figure out that you put the quarters in here, the water comes out there, and you need some detergent in the mix at some point. How they made it through life to that point is astounding, though when I think back, it's pretty easy to guess that maybe they never washed their clothes. Ever.
They left after finally seeing how to work the machines, presumably to get some clothes to put in them, and I soon left with my very full laundry bag of clean clothes. My RV isn't too far away from the laundry/rec/work out room/library, so I didn't have too long to think about what might jump out at me in the darkness. Meth heads in pajamas are the things of nightmares in a trailer park. But I had survived to tell the tale!
The next time I did laundry there, I went in the day time.

May you always be able to avoid conversations with strangers or at least leave before the idiots arrive,
Ray

Shower Time

In an RV (or at least in mine), the hot water doesn't come on automatically. You have to flip a switch that tells the propane to heat up the water. It takes a little while for this to happen, and not a lot of water gets heated at once. When I was moving into my RV, my future in-laws warned me that my showers would need to be much shorter. Fran, my future mother-in-law recommended shaving at a separate time than when I actually showered. In my head, I was thinking, "Oh ok. So a 10 minute shower? I can do that...if I have to."
You see, I enjoy showers, and baths sometimes, very, very much. The hotter and longer, the better. I also like the air around the shower and in the bathroom to be warm so I don't freeze when I get out and dry off. Basically, I like to stay very warm in and out of the shower. In the RV, things get a little tricky.
The first time I try to shower in my new abode, I shaved in the sink first. I figured I'd be using less warm water for that than I would in the shower, so I'd be fine. Leg shaving goes well. The water was barely running, and it stayed warm the whole time. So then I turn the water on in the shower, let it get warm, and get in. It's nice at first. Perfect temperature, nice and steamy. I shampoo my hair, then put conditioner in and lather up my body. In the middle of using my little puff ball thing to dispense my body wash, I feel the water temperature start to lower. And lower. And lower. Suddenly, it goes ice cold. Literally. It's December, and the water comes from OUTSIDE.
I quickly turn it off, freezing to death with conditioner in my hair and soap all over my body. I can't very well stand there all soapy until it heats enough water for me to rinse off, so I turn the water on to the tub faucet. In my head, I just repeat over and over, "This is for Ross. This is for our wedding." I get down on my knees and put my hair under the cold cold cold cold water. That part wasn't too bad, except that my hands got cold. But I'm still covered in body wash. If you can understand how much I hate being cold, and how much I hate being cold inside my own home, you might appreciate the fact that I didn't actually cry out as I cupped my hands under the freezing water and splashed myself with it. It was reminiscent of the self-flagellation of the uber-pious monk in The Da Vinci Code. Not a good experience.

The second time I tried to shower, I thought I had learned a thing or two. I got some advice from the Wunders about how to really take a shower and not want to die at the end of it. Turns out, you can't keep the water running the entire time. So, I turn the water on, wet my body and hair, and turn the water off. I shampoo my hair, turn the water on and rinse, and then turn the water off. Then, I condition my hair and soap up my body, and turn the water back on to rinse. It's getting colder though and turns to the temperature of a penguin aquarium before I can get all the soap off of myself. Once again, I'm left feeling like I may weep from the cold and contemplating how long a person can go without bathing. I didn't even try to shave. "This is for Ross. This is for our wedding."

Finally, I have discovered how to properly clean oneself in an RV. It's actually called a bower and is a combination of a bath and shower. First, you must let the water heat for 30 minutes or more before you even try to use it. It also helps if you have a little space heater that you can use to heat the air in the bathroom. After the water heats, turn the faucet on and fill up the bath tub as much as you can with water that you (I) think is warm enough to bathe in. This usually ends up being about 2 inches of water before the water temperature starts to fall. Climb on in. The tub is small, the water is shallow, but hey, it's an adventure, right? Get a cup. Using the cup, wet your hair and body with bath tub water, and shampoo. Then, use the cup again to rinse out the shampoo. Put conditioner in your hair and stand up to bathe. It is best to do all of this as slowly as possible. After you bathe, turn on the faucet and let it get warm again, which it should, since you've been moving very slowly to give it time to heat up. Turn on the shower and rinse off completely. Then step out into the warm space-heater-heated air, clean and not wishing for death.

It is no longer a gauntlet to clean myself, though I do only shave when I visit Ross on the weekends. That may be gross in a few weeks when it warms up and I can wear shorts outside. I may go back to shaving in the sink. But I'll never shave before my bower. That's just asking for it.

May your water always be warm,

Ray