Launch Minus 5
The time is approaching. I've taken the book shelves and the coffee table to Kristy's house, and I've reclaimed my face painting gear from her storage shed. I've schlepped bags of clothing and a few household goods to Goodwill. If I haven't worn it in the last year, I won't. I've discarded old letters and faded photos (after taking a digital of the photos). Why do we feel compelled to carry around boxes of memories? Just a few more items to review, then my goods are ready to be rehoused in my new turtle shell, my mini home, my travel trailer: Big Top.
Yesterday I took my truck, Carny, in for an inspection before hitting the road, only to be told I need new shocks and struts. Of course. Life rarely flows smoothly from the starting line to the finish. That's why we keep repositioning both lines, hoping for a happy ending. I contacted the dealer who sold me the vehicle and certified that they had checked everything prior to sale, to see if they can give me a deal. Thursday, Carny goes to the dealer for a review. We'll see.
In the meantime, I did a bit of self maintenance as well and got my flu shot. I also bought a bathing suit on sale (80% off... yes, thank you) while awaiting my truck's diagnosis. I anticipate with delight revisiting the gulf beaches of my youth. Clearwater Beach. Fort DeSoto Park. St. Pete Beach. Those were the days when only old folks lived in St Pete, and one drove with caution, looking out for the blue hairs in one's lane. Now blue hair is for the young, and I'm a senior. How strange.
Today was towing class. Saturday I'll pick up my trailer, bring it back to my apartment, load my belongings, then clean my apartment. Sunday I'll return to Lazy Days for instruction on setting up camp: how to connect hoses, fill and dump tanks, level the trailer - general set-up. My final night before I hit the road, I will check to make sure everything works properly and that I know how to keep it that way.
Monday morning, Labor Day, I symbolically drop my chains and soar. The reality may be that it takes a few days of flapping to get aloft. But whatever it takes, I will fly... and I'll share the view with you all.
© 2017 Joan Cichon All Rights Reserved
Yesterday I took my truck, Carny, in for an inspection before hitting the road, only to be told I need new shocks and struts. Of course. Life rarely flows smoothly from the starting line to the finish. That's why we keep repositioning both lines, hoping for a happy ending. I contacted the dealer who sold me the vehicle and certified that they had checked everything prior to sale, to see if they can give me a deal. Thursday, Carny goes to the dealer for a review. We'll see.
In the meantime, I did a bit of self maintenance as well and got my flu shot. I also bought a bathing suit on sale (80% off... yes, thank you) while awaiting my truck's diagnosis. I anticipate with delight revisiting the gulf beaches of my youth. Clearwater Beach. Fort DeSoto Park. St. Pete Beach. Those were the days when only old folks lived in St Pete, and one drove with caution, looking out for the blue hairs in one's lane. Now blue hair is for the young, and I'm a senior. How strange.
Monday morning, Labor Day, I symbolically drop my chains and soar. The reality may be that it takes a few days of flapping to get aloft. But whatever it takes, I will fly... and I'll share the view with you all.
© 2017 Joan Cichon All Rights Reserved
"Those were the days when only old folks lived in St Pete, and one drove with caution, looking out for the blue hairs in one's lane. Now blue hair is for the young, and I'm a senior. How strange." Ha!
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