Home Sweet Motorhome

Hey y’all!  So, the last time I posted, it was a piece my husband wrote about scammers on Facebook Marketplace falsely advertising top-notch motorhomes and RV’s for ridiculously low pricing. 

Today, I’m writing because we finally made it happen.  Yes, we bought our motorhome!

This week has been so anxiety driven and action packed, I’m simply glad we were able to accomplish the enormous task. 

Hubby and I have been scouring Facebook Marketplace for what feels like months.  I swear to y’all, I was checking the site 5, 6, 7 times a day just to see if anything new had been added, and I was rechecking motorhomes and RV’s which we’d already read over deciding not to inquire.  Well, last week, hubby found this one, a 24ft with 2 sleeping areas. 

So, through the weekend I enquired with the seller, first making sure it was still available, exchanging numbers for better communication, and finally, arranging it so that we had a ride to go and look at the motorhome. 

On Monday, my dad and his wife agreed to take my husband, daughter, and myself to go and look at it; just under an hour to get there, and the same to get back.  The motorhome looked just as it did in its pictures, the interior is needing some work, but no more than we can handle, and my husband started it up.  It cranked over like a beast on the first try. 

On Tuesday, the guy selling it was nice enough to help us out a little further, and personally drove the motorhome to us though Hurricane Ida was making her way through.  I was browning some ground beef to make chili when I happened to look out our kitchen windows and saw our motorhome drive by on the next road over from ours. 

The only detail I don’t like about the motorhome interior is its carpet.  I hate carpet.  I hate carpet.  Did I mention, I hate carpet?

On Wednesday, after I finished with my scheduled classes for the morning, my husband and I tackled face first into the next project… ripping the carpet out.  We spent that afternoon and Thursday afternoon ripping carpet out and removing the trash accumulated and left behind by previous owners. 

Sorry, it’s not the best, clearest photo of the carpet before I tore it up, but you get the idea that it had to go.

On Friday, I admit I didn’t do anything with our motorhome.  Instead, I taught 3 scheduled classes, took a nice long nap, and then proceeded to do very little through the rest of the day.  Everyone needs a day off from working and I was more than exhausted. 

Same general area as previous photo, but after I ripped the carpeting out. We’re going to put down water resistant wood laminate.

I’m hopeful that next week we’ll be able to get it properly tagged and titled as well as install new flooring in it.  Once the new flooring is in, I can properly scrub everything inside, from top to bottom, then proceed with the details of minimizing our belongings.  We’re not hoarders, but we do have a lot of things, most of it being in the media department.

I said we had a lot of books.

So, everything has been a process, but we’re getting there… one day at a time.  I know it’ll all be worth it once we’re moved in and settled. 

As always, thanks for reading y’all!


I’ve met my fair share of needy people.  Now, I’m not talking about people that need things like food to eat or a roof over their head, or clothes, I’m talking about needy, clingy, I wave to a stranger in a friendly manner and they misread my friendly wave needy.  I’m doing nothing more than waving in acknowledgement, but they acknowledge it as come over anytime and tell me all about your life.  Having encountered so many who are like this, I submitted myself to hermitage.  Keeping to myself to the point I wouldn’t even go outside.  I withdrew myself from the likes of society.

This has changed.

My husband and I moved into our own place, but we do have neighbors closer in distance to us than the last place we lived.  I didn’t really think about how close our neighbors are as we were moving in, but I swore to myself I wouldn’t walk down that path of friendliness again.  I enjoy having friends, but I also enjoy spending time alone because that’s when I can dive into my creative thoughts uninterrupted.  I lose myself in sketching or writing, or reading a really good book, whichever direction my thoughts take me at that particular moment.  These are my favorite pastimes, but not everyone accepts this, and most of the time it’s because they don’t understand it.  I don’t expect others to understand my creative fulfillment, but I do expect them to accept that art is who I am.  It’s what makes me who I am.  I accept others for who they are and what they do, but I also expect the same in return.  In other words, if you don’t understand it, don’t criticize me for it, allow me to either educate you or leave me alone.

On an evening, within a week after my family and I moved into our new place, we experienced a ‘tiny’ ant problem around our kitchen sink.  I noticed our landlord was across the road, on our neighbor’s porch visiting and in conversation, so I sent my husband over to inquire on some bug spray of some sort.  They didn’t have any bug spray, but they did offer us another solution which helped put an end to our ‘tiny’ ant problem, and because my husband went over to inquire, he also met our neighbors.  My husband is an old ‘hippie’ and he’ll be the first one to tell you this about himself, so he’s able to feel others out.  Not in the touchy-feely sort of way, but he can read them like characters in a book.  After cleaning up our ant problem, we finished cleaning the kitchen from dinner, and then my husband convinced me to go with him to return the borrowed ant killing solution.  As hesitant as I am on a regular basis, I allowed myself this neighborly meet and greet.  I’m glad I did this because in meeting our neighbors, rather than avoiding them like I normally do, I stepped outside my comfort zone, allowing myself a change in socialization.  Before this, I practically closed myself off from the rest of the world because of a handful of people I chose to allow to take advantage of me.

In meeting our neighbors, I did some soul searching, seeking advice from my inner self, and following my intuition.  I have to follow my heart.  By following my heart, I have to accept that I’ve made mistakes in my past, allowing people to practically walk all over me in a figurative manner.  By following my heart, I’m following my husband, trusting that he, who has years of experience before me, can read a person enough to sense whether they’re genuine or pretending to be something or someone they aren’t.  There are too many fake people in this world, but I can’t continue judging others according to those I’ve already met and distrust.

This isn’t the only thing changing in my life either.  I’m changing as an individual person as well.  No longer hesitating to ask about things I’m curious about.  No longer fearing I might offend someone.  No longer worrying about being misjudged or judged for my sometimes eclectic personality.  I admit, sometimes I ask questions that really shock a person, but I don’t expect my questions to be answered.  I’ll be the first one to tell you, if it’s too personal, tell me, don’t feed me a line of lies because my question crossed the line.  Tell me I’ve crossed a line.  As a mature woman, I will understand.  In return, ask me anything, if it’s none of your business, I’ll tell you.

It’s been so long since I’ve surrounded myself with real people, it’s quite refreshing.  I feel renewed hope and real connections.  My husband and I were visiting with our neighbors the other night when the idea to write this blog surfaced my thoughts.  Instantly, I was asking for a piece of paper and a pen or pencil to write.  They offered up both without question and even as I proceeded to spend a good 15 to 20 minutes writing out my thoughts, neither of them questioned me or criticized me for taking the moment to write what I had on my mind.


Good and bad, changes come in all shapes, sizes, and levels of importance.  Throughout the last two months, the changes have come as expected and completely unexpected.  Moving.  Exploring an unknown destination at the most inconvenient time thanks to an error in GPS.  Adjusting, planning, and anything else I’ve encountered but am unable to list, the changes have proven to be for the best.  I didn’t understand them at the time, but because they occurred, I had to change, to become a better person.  Each experience is a lesson.  I had to learn that I’m going to be okay, that things are going to be okay, that we are going to be okay.  Most importantly, there are still good people out there, I just have to listen more closely, and follow my heart.

Artistically Speaking

I found myself sketching out a new piece this morning during my daughter’s Math class.  I’ve had a vision, an idea, for the better part of two weeks, and today I finally allowed myself to fall into sketching it out.

My first sketch ever, was a free-hand sketch of ‘Rabbit’ from “Winnie the Pooh”.  I was somewhere around 10-years-old, and my cousin swore I traced it, comparing it every so closely to the picture I was free-handing it from.  To this day I don’t know if she was serious or not, though it I didn’t let it deter me.  I stood my ground, swearing, “I did not trace the picture!”

My husband and I were talking about how my first free-hand sketch was of Rabbit.  Everyone remembers Rabbit.  The no-nonsense character in “Winnie the Pooh”.  Loved to garden, cautious of everything, smart, and picky on the subject of organized cleanliness.  Strangely enough, my great-grandmother was the same way.  I believe I get all of my artist ability from her.

As I sat drawing, listening in on today’s lessons, I had to turn my daughter’s attention back to her teacher a couple times where she was fascinated with my creativity.  She keeps telling me she can’t believe how good I am.  I love her compliments, and I thank her for them, but I’m still telling her I’ve only been drawing longer.  Experience is practice, and practice makes perfect.

Sketching relaxes me.  Even my husband has said so.  It’s like I melt into a different world.  I focus so strongly on every feeling and detail until it feels complete.  Hours pass feeling like minutes.  Only the art speaks the truth.  I knew this feeling only one other time in my life, my preteen to early teenage youth.  My love for free-hand drawing found me taking on an early, pre-college experience as a result of submitting an entry of a drawing of a no-name, cartoon bear wearing a hat.  By this time, I was building my own portfolio of sketches.  Characters from Disney’s “The Lion King”, “The Little Mermaid”, “Pocahontas”, and a sketch of the two-headed dragon in “The Quest for Camelot” dressed as Elvis Presley.  I drew him for my grandmother who was an obsessed fan.  Unfortunately, the art assignment grew more tediously detailed, I was redoing several assignments, the critiques urging me to ‘Try Again’, and the entire process was done through the USPS.  I lost all interest, and a short time later, my portfolio.  I got rid of it.  Threw it out.

I’ve grown.  I started sketching a new piece today.  I can’t wait until it’s completed and I can show everyone.  I’ve only the completed the first layer, but I feel it’s going to be magnificent when I’m through.  You must feel the art.

Thanks for reading!

Be Inspired


Being a writer, I’m inspired by things I see or observe, people I meet, and things I learn.  Having said that, I watched a little girl named Beni, absorb the teachings of culinary genius, Gordon Ramsey, throughout the entire season 6 of MasterChef Junior.  I witnessed, through live action news, the joining of two countries in holy matrimony, because an English Prince fell in love with an American–not for her social status, but for who she is.  Finally, I spent a very entertaining evening, seated in a huge auditorium of a high school, watching live performances from students in performing arts.  I watched as a couple hundred students, expressed themselves through interpretive dancing.

The innocence of a child is not something that should be taken advantage of, but something that we, as parents should celebrate.  Their minds haven’t yet been corrupted by the conflicts of peer pressure–downers telling dreamers it can’t be done and so on.

In watching Beni throughout Season 6, I saw her as an open notebook taking it all in.  She faced every cooking challenge with an open mind, she listened intently, taking every remark, tip, and critique from Gordon Ramsey, Christina Tosi, and Joe Bastianich, and going with them.  Every Friday, you could physically see her technique mature.  If I remember hearing correctly, Beni also made the swim team with her school, but she gave it up to be on MasterChef Junior, and then she won!  I’m anxious to see what she does in the coming years!

When watching the royal wedding between Prince Harry of Wales and our ‘American Princess Bride’, I felt the union of America with England, and to marry into the royal family–an honor of it’s own.

I was inspired the most by all the children I watched perform on stage while attending my daughter’s part in the show.  She’s a first year gymnast with Kidz in Step, and she part of a gymnastics routine to “The Greatest Show” from The Greatest Showman.  I’m amazed with how much she’s doing now compared to the common cartwheel and somersault she was doing a year ago.  I taught her the cartwheels and somersaults, Kidz in Step taught her the uneven bars and the balance beam.

Other performances included ballet, tap dancing, Jazz routines, Hip-Hop, a few Contemporary numbers, and a skit in Musical Theater.  I was immediately captivated, nearly to tears,  by the opening of the show because I watched dancers tumble in and tumble out, jump in and jump out, and finally come together in a huge group of talented performers of the arts, filling the stage and surrounding the audience in a choreographed dance number like that of Justin Timberlake’s closing number in his recent Super Bowl half-time appearance.  The owner herself in the act, dancing as seriously as her students.  She’s the owner/director, but her favorite place to be is in the class rooms.  She likes the dance floor.  That night, I also witnessed the owner, as a teacher, investing in the future of her students when she and her husband recognized four senior girls who’ve been dancing with her since she opened her dance studio.  There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.  It was such a special moment, and so touching.

The point to this post is the inspiration we can get in watching our children, and encouraging them to do the things they like to do.  My daughter wants to be an actress when she grows up.  I can put her on the path to following her dreams through performing arts.  This year and next she’s in gymnastics, next year dance might make the schedule.

Feel the technique and create a new, delicious appetizer, entree, or dessert.  Feel the music and create an entire new dance number.  Set the sky as your limit, and follow your dreams.  Gain confidence from watching our children be confident.