"The time has come," The Walrus said...

"To talk of other things. Of RVs and trailer parks. Of meth heads and propane. Of moving out and moving on to a place on Briargrove Lane! Kaloo Kalay we'll move Sunday to a place on Briargrove Lane!"

That's right, friends. Ross and I found our first home! My last day in sunny Shady Grove is Saturday!
As I think about leaving the trailer park behind, I am of course super excited, but it's also incredibly daunting. Well, maybe daunting isn't the right word. I am simply struck with the thought that I am closing a chapter on my life. I am starting another fun, beautiful, and exciting one with Ross, but moving out of the trailer park is signaling to me that nothing will ever be the same. I'll never live alone again, and I adore my independence. I'll cook for two, buy groceries for two, and (ugh) clean for two... I'll have two pets instead of one. I'll have to share DVR space. I'll have to be consciously tidy instead of cleaning up when I finally realize the place is dirty. I'll have to make sure it's OK if I invite company over.
None of these changes are bad. They're just different. I can't wait to live with Ross and marry him. I can't wait to have a full sized kitchen again. We've already discussed splitting up the chores, so cleaning won't be like pulling teeth. I love his (our) dog Lucy, and I've missed having a dog to walk. We watch many of the same shows, so it's not like the DVR will be taken over by crap TV. He's also going to have to work at being a little cleaner because we're sharing space so that's fair. And I would like him to OK it with me if he wants his friends over, too. What if I've had a bad day? What if I just want to zone out on the couch? I could say, "Why don't you just meet them somewhere?" And he could tell me the same thing.
I'm not really freaking out, but I just know that my life is changing, and it will never be the same. I almost feel like I'm losing something, or saying goodbye to something. But that's silly because I'm gaining so much! Ross is the man of my dreams, and I want to be with him forever. I don't want to be single forever, and I certainly don't want to live in the trailer park longer than absolutely necessary. Why do I feel like I'm going to miss being out here?!

Are any other newly wed brides or even long-time wives out there that remember feeling this way? How did you handle it?

Gathering boxes and packing tape,
Ray

How to Tell if Your Neighbors are Meth Chemists

I know there are some sketchy characters that live in my 'hood, but for the most part, the only people I see are the people out grilling or enjoying the evening breeze as I run/jog/usually walk by. These are the good ol' boys and girls of lower middle class or upper lower class who are hanging up their nomad spurs in good ol' Middle of Nowhere, Texas. They have hourly jobs and kids and dogs, or their dogs are their kids, or their car is their kid...

Anyway, they're just human beings getting by, living the life of no tie-downs. I'm there with them. As much as I want a real roof over my head with shingles and everything, right now, that just isn't my life. I'm getting by. I'm making it work. And they are too.

Then there are the people that make me question how safe I truly am out here in the sticks.  Let me introduce you to stall #141 and how to tell if your neighbors are meth chemists.
1. There is a car that never moves.
Stall #141 has a Mercedes out front that never moves. In fact, the car is plugged into the RV. Through the trunk. I'm no mechanic, but the battery is under the hood, not in the trunk. Not sure what's being plugged in there or why.

2. You never see a person coming or going.
I've never seen a person at stall #141. Not a single person. Ever. They moved in after me, I guess in the dead of night (hey, we have that in common!), and for the past 6+ months, I haven't seen a person coming or going. The car never moves and the bills that get stapled to their door handle haven't moved either.
3. Electricity is on, but the lights never are.
The electricity is hooked up. They have power to the place. What are they using it for? No idea. Their lights are NEVER on. At least that I can see. So maybe no one is in there.
4. Water out, but no water in.
The weirdest thing: they have their drainage hooked up, but not their water line into the RV. They can put things down the toilet or down the sink, but they don't have running water to go with it. Cue Twilight Zone music. Oh and here's Rod Serling, my hero:

Watch The Twilight Zone. It's the best.

So here's what I think: it's a meth lab. They're cooking up a storm in there, or they have cooked it all and picked it up and will only return when they need more to sell.

What do you think is going on in Stall #141?

Hopefully nothing blows up,
Ray

Pro Pain: The Saga Continues

It was a grey day in Texas today, and that reminded me of winter when the sun went down early and I froze half the time. And I remembered a great story I hadn't shared yet. It's a doozie.
By now, you know how much I hate being cold, and how easy it was to run out of propane in the winter. Well, one cold winter's night, I am curled up in my bed under about 3 blankets and a sheet along with a personal heater in the shape of a cat watching a scary movie when I realized that I was bundled up under layers of warmth and still really cold. Fearing the worst, I got up and turned the thermostat to 80 degrees. Lo and behold, nothing happens. I'm out of propane. Go figure. Shady Grove fills propane tanks every week day for a fee, but all you have to do is unhook your tanks from the lines into your RV and set them in your driveway for the propane guys to pick up. They return them to your space full, and you can hook them up to your RV and bask in the warmth they give. So, I get my coat and boots on and go out to unhook my tanks so I don't have to do it tomorrow morning before I leave for work.
I shut the tanks off and try to unscrew them from the hose, but the collar on one of them won't budge! I wrap it in my jacket and try. It doesn't give an inch. I go back in the trailer to find a pair of gloves to use, but I can't find them anywhere. I end up grabbing a towel and trying that, but to no avail.  I'm pretty sure it's frozen shut. That sounds like a big problem to me, so I call Bob the best future-father-in-law ever to see what can be done if the collar gets frozen onto the propane tanks. It's about 9 o'clock at night, but he answers with what can only be described as an unamused tone. When I explain to him that the hose connector is frozen onto the propane tank and I can't get it off, he tells me to get that pair of gloves he left. When I tell him that I've already looked for them and can't find them, he's not too happy and gives me a little lecture about making sure I know to fill my tanks BEFORE they both run out. But, being the great future-father-in-law that he is, he offers to come out there to unhook them for me. It's a 45 minute drive for him to come out there from where he and Fran live. I tell him it's really ok, I can go one night. I said I would borrow a pair of gloves from the place I worked and unhook them tomorrow after work.
"But then you'll have to spend another night in the cold because they won't fill the tanks until the next day." He lets out a big sigh. "I'll come out there, just hold on. There better not be a pair of gloves there."
I assure him there isn't, and we hang up. Well, it is still freezing, and I have 45 minutes, so I get back under the covers and start the movie again.
I was watching You're Next, a movie about a holiday that goes terribly wrong. It was just getting good, the bad guys were trying to kill the main character and the suspense was building, when I heard a knock on the door. I was so engrossed in the film that the sound jolted me out of bed before I realized that a killer probably wouldn't knock before he busted in to murder me. Nope, Bob was here. My hero.
I open the door and tell him he almost gave me a heart attack, to which he replied, "Why are you watching a scary movie by yourself?" Good point.
He handed me a pair of gloves he brought and we head to the propane tanks. I put the gloves on and try to turn the collar on the hose. It spins easily. I look up at him (he's 6'6") with my mouth wide open.
"I tried my jacket! I tried a towel! It really wouldn't move before! Really!"

He shakes his head and lets out another sigh. "Gloves make all the difference. You really don't have any? I thought I left a pair for you."
"No, I looked. I didn't find any."
We start back towards the door of the trailer.
"If I find a pair of gloves in here, I'm kicking your ass."
I chuckled at that. Then Bob looked in a drawer I swear I had looked in, and he came up with 2 pairs of gloves. TWO.

I felt what can only be described as hilarious shame.The look he gave me... Well, let's just say I was glad he was leaving. I felt so bad, I apologized profusely and promised I would do a better job of getting my propane tanks refilled before they both ran out.
As he is walking out the door he says, "And don't watch a scary movie by yourself!"
"Don't knock on my door!"
He turns around and says, "Then deal with your own fucking propane!" and climbs in his truck.
Deep down, he's really glad I'm part of the family.


May you always find what you're looking for (before a large, angry man gives you a death stare),
Ray

I'm a Sightseeing Adventurer

Today, I went on a run. By run, I mean of course that I sprinted for 10 seconds and walked for 50 seconds for 10 minutes. I'm not a distance person. It's important to have endurance, sure, I mean you've got to be ready to outrun the zombies when the time comes, but I think you're a little crazy if you run marathons and nonsense like that. Bad ass? Yes. Crazy? Yeah, you're that too. Let's be real; the first guy that ever ran a marathon DIED. Yeah, look up your Greek history. That being said, I'll never be one of those people that enjoys running. I do, however, love going on walks. At that speed (which isn't too much slower than my long distance running speed), you can see and take in so much more. You can feel the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. It's heaven on earth. So in my running/walking-then-walking-some-more excursion, I saw some pretty great things that I didn't know about my community. Let me introduce you to Shady Grove through pictures...

The dog park

We have our very own troll bridge!

Enclosed yard with a ramp? Living the dream.

Who doesn't want a ramp?

'Merica!

These are actually weather vanes.  Cool, huh?

See that bricked walkway up to their DECK??? #fancy

These folks aren't playing around.

They have a house behind their house... No clue.

The corner lot did some landscaping. Pretty sweet!

And then there are these people who are actually my neighbors. Now, that is what's up. #Firefly

I live in a pretty cool place. My neighbors wave and say hello when they see each other. A man who didn't speak English helped me fix a machine in the workout room. (I thanked him in Spanish, and thank goodness he didn't believe I actually knew Spanish. I have a very limited vocabulary.) All in all, it's a nice community with nice people who just like the nomad lifestyle. Who came blame them? Don't we all have that adventurous spirit within us that makes us wonder what's just beyond our vision?  That makes us strive for something new, something exciting? Don't we all thirst for that? I know I do. Let's really experience life and have some stories for the grand kids. 

Stay thirsty, and take a walk,

Ray

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