Recycling is important to me as is reducing my plastic footprint. One of the areas that I’ve had the biggest struggle with is my Keurig. I loved my morning cup of chai latte but I couldn’t continue justifying the continuing daily use of multiple non-recyclable k-cups. So, I did the only thing I could do – I went cold turkey.
Image courtesty of depositphotos.com
I switched to a powdered chocolate chai latte mix and heated water in the microwave. I didn’t enjoy the mix as much as I did the Cafe Express brand k-cup mix I was using, but that turned out to be a moot point because it irritated my acid reflux which made it a no-go. I also tried a couple of different teas with the same result – my acid reflux wasn’t happy. However, I do enjoy a warm cuppa something in the morning to help me wake up. So, what to do? Well, it turns out that I just went back to having a cup of coffee. Years ago, I started having problems with coffee giving me indigestion so I made the switch to my beloved (and still mourned) chai latte. I used the Keurig for my morning fix while Kenn continued using the coffee maker. As the years have passed, we’ve changed brands of coffee and what we’re using now doesn’t give me indigestion. (Yay!) Now we just have to find a travel-friendly coffee maker to replace the Keurig in the travel trailer.
One thing has helped make the transition easier. I always used a travel mug for my chai latte but now that I’ve gone back to coffee I use a regular coffee mug. This means that I now get to use the mug my youngest son’s girlfriend gave me last Christmas; she knows how much I love John Hancock from the Fallout 4 video game. Now I get to spend every morning with him!🥰
Ghoul of Goodneighbor image by Crystal Fae on Redbubble.com
So, any recommendations for a travel-friendly coffee maker? Or acid reflux-friendly teas, etc.?
It doesn’t matter if you live in the city, the ‘burbs, or the country – squirrels are everywhere. You can’t swing a cat without hitting a squirrel, sometimes literally since one of their favorite pastimes seems to be running into the road and then losing their furry little minds. I do my darndest to never harm a living creature, but squirrels make it difficult. Kenn affectionately refers to me as the Squirrel Bellower for my tendency to yell at both the squirrels who are in the road unable to make a decision as to how to proceed and the ones beside the road trying to decide whether or not they should go for it.
As suicidal as Southern squirrels tend to be, we decided during last year’s road trip that Northeastern squirrels were even worse; they like to dart in front of you at the absolute last second. We even saw a few running across the interstate. At some point during our trip Kenn made a statement along the lines of “I prefer chipmunks over squirrels.”
Image created in Canva
Of course a statement like that begs the question of why the preference for chipmunks over squirrels.
. Per Kenn, “When a chipmunk makes a decision, it commits; there’s no running into the middle of the road and being overwhelmed by indecision. Nope, the chipmunk just goes for it.” Since then I’ve paid attention on the rare instances a chipmunk crosses the road in front of me. It seems that he is correct. Chipmunks just go for it and race across the road with no hesitation. But, for the record, I yell at chipmunks too – just in case.😉
There have been a lot of things that I swore I would never do. I have done them all.🤷♀️Now, I’m doing it again. Once I retired, I had zero plans to ever go back to work. Writing and blogging, sure; those things bring me joy. A structured, on-a time-clock job? No way. I’ve had enough of living my life around someone else’s schedule, not being able to travel, etc. However, almost three years ago, Kenn landed the perfect retirement job; it’s an “intermittent” position with extremely flexible hours. (Intermittent means that it’s part-time, but has a cap on the number of days and hours that can be worked over the length of the position.) His boss didn’t bat an eye when Kenn told him that he would be gone for the month of September last year. Kenn usually works two or three days a week and spends most of his time driving heavy equipment; he loves it. I told him that if I could find something similar, I might give it a go. He talked to one of the other supervisors and one thing led to another.
I started my new “intermittent” position as a Biological Science Aid for an entomologist last week. As of this writing I’ve only worked three days but I have enjoyed it. Getting out of the house and getting a lot of exercise has meant that I’ve slept better at night, LOL. Of course, working outside in the Georgia heat and humidity has been kind of rough. I coat myself in sun screen and wear an SPF-50 over shirt for added protection. Basically, the clothes I would normally wear when hiking are the clothes that I now wear to the “office”.
Now that’s a sun hat!
My new supervisor was on leave the week I started so one of the other full-time employees showed me the ropes. She greeted me with a stack of supplies including a master key that will get me into virtually any office and a key to my very own work truck.😮 I was not expecting that! However, since I already drive a big honkin’ truck, driving one at work is no big deal.
My work truck
One of the new skills I’ve learned is how to drive a John Deere Gator. I feel all kinds of fancy driving across the fields in a utility vehicle.😂
Unlike Kenn, I don’t see myself working this position for more than a year or so. In the meantime, it’s flexible enough that I can live my own life and we can still travel all while I bring in a little extra money. I may be turning 60 in a few months, but I’m not to old to try/learn new things!
Kenn is the plant person in our relationship. He has always done a great job of keeping our yards looking good. However, we’ve learned the hard way that some plants are the gift that just keeps on giving – and not in a good way.
Our last house had a terraced yard which included a few raised beds. One of the beds at the front of the house contained azaleas which gave a nice pop of color in the spring. We planted lantana in the other to add color in the summer and fall. Kenn decided that he wanted to plant bamboo in the beds to the sides of the house, I was a little concerned about it spreading because invasive plants such as kudzu love the climate here in the southeastern United States. Kenn said not to worry, he would be taking steps to keep the bamboo contained so the planting commenced.
We moved out of that house almost five years ago but still maintain it as a rental property. Over the years it has become obvious that the attempt at bamboo containment failed. Not only did it fail, it did so spectacularly. Our property now has a bumper crop of bamboo and it is busily spreading throughout the neighborhood. Oopsie. Our bad.😬
Yep, the bamboo is thriving
I would say that bamboo grows like kudzu, but if you’ve never lived in an area with kudzu that means nothing. Kudzu grows several inches per day. So does bamboo, which is another fact we’ve learned the hard way. The growth is most noticeable in the spring when the new sprouts begin pushing through the soil. The next day, those sprouts are six inches tall. By the end of the week, they’re six feet tall. We’re now taking steps to reclaim the back yard at our rental property from the bamboo jungle it is becoming but it’s going to be a never ending battle. Wish us luck!
Do you have any experience with bamboo? If you have any tips on how to kill the bloody stuff, please let me know!
As of this writing, I have 104 followers. Mind. Blown. 🤯 My thanks to everyone who found my “random musings of a redheaded rambler” and enjoyed them enough to follow. *blows kisses*
Image from depositphotos.com
I started this blog as a place to write about our travels and any other random thing that crosses my mind. In other words, the sort of things that I wasn’t interested in posting on my now much-neglected writer blog (isabellanorse.com). Yeah, I probably ought to start blogging over there occasionally too.🤷♀️
Stay tuned for more photos and posts about trees, rocks, shark’s teeth, and more.
In honor of my random musings I’m going to end with a random question: what is your favorite number? Mine is the number four.
Being an adult is filled with wonderful things such as making your own decisions, staying up as late as you want, and eating ice cream for breakfast. Of course, adulting also has its downside: bills, income tax, colonoscopies… you get the idea. One of the things that we have avoided is reviewing our insurance (home and car) annually. We have been with the same insurance company for decades in spite of growing dissatisfaction. This year, we reached the breaking point.
We purchased our current home, The Cabin, in 2017. We filed a claim against our homeowner’s insurance when Hurricane Michael moved through the area in October 2018 and ripped off part of the ridge vent on our roof. We’ve had several severe hailstorms move through the area since December resulting in damage to our roof (based on the pieces of shingles we’ve found). Kenn filed a claim with our insurance company. Following their procedures, we had our roof checked by several roofers who all agreed that yes, there was hail damage. The insurance adjuster came out where he met with our primary roofer. The adjuster apparently told the roofer that yes, there was hail damage but he told the insurance company that there wasn’t, so: claim denied.
A couple of months later another hailstorm moved through so Kenn contacted the insurance company again. If he had talked to me first, I would have asked him not to. I figured they would just deny a second claim and probably raise our rates to boot. Ah, if only it had been that simple. Yes, they denied our claim. Then, they added insult to injury by sending us a letter that basically said “Your roof is old, therefore it’s a liability. If you don’t replace it by July 28th, we’re going to cancel your policy.” To summarize, they won’t pay out on the policy that we’ve been paying on for years but they will threaten to cancel our policy because our house has an old roof. We have now submitted a letter from our roofer stating that yes, the roof is old and will need to be replaced in the next 2-3 years. We were notified this morning (finally) that the underwriter accepted our letter and our policy will be renewed for another year. We already have a plan in place to replace the roof next year.
Image from Depositphotos.com
However, this was the straw that broke that poor, much maligned camel’s back. We began the process of requesting quotes from several other insurance companies. Full disclosure: Kenn did lion’s share of the work; he spent hours on the phone with various individuals. Why? He is far more patient than I am. My skills came into play in reviewing the quotes, comparing them to our current coverage, and making recommendations. We selected a new company and began the process to transition all of our policies. But, that extra call to our current insurance company came back to bite us in the butt yet again. The underwriter for the new company won’t cover The Cabin because we’ve had three claims in five years. The fact that two of the claims were denied is immaterial.
We decided to go ahead and transition all of our policies except our homeowner’s. We’ll work toward moving our homeowner’s policy when the 2018 claim drops off in October 2023. In the meantime, it’s probably going to cost us a little more to have policies split this way (since we won’t be able to “bundle”) but we decided it’s worth it for us.
We got good, comparable rates from the new company but you want to know one of the things that made the biggest difference to us? Most of Kenn’s conversations during this process were with the actual owner of the agency. She was shocked to learn that in all of the decades we’ve been with our current agent, we’ve only spoken to him two or three times. Now, I get it. When dealing with an insurance company, or large medical practice, etc., you don’t always get to deal with the primary agent or physician (or whatever), but it shouldn’t be a choice that is actively discouraged at all times. So, our new agent’s personal touch meant a great deal to both of us.
So long Jake, your khakis are no longer enough – it’s time for us to embrace a little Mayhem.
Image courtesy of Allstate
So, how long has it been since you reviewed or updated your insurance?
We recently traveled to Louisville, Kentucky to spend a weekend celebrating the marriage of one of Kenn’s nephews. (Congratulations Alex and Mattie!🥳) Little did I know that I would also get to check off one of my lesser known Bucket List items while in Louisville. A couple of weeks before our trip Kenn told me of his plans to treat me to a Drag Brunch at Le Moo. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known such a thing as a Drag Brunch existed if Alex hadn’t sent Kenn pictures from one he attended with Mattie and her coworkers. Kenn does not understand my love of drag queens so the fact that he was not only treating me to a drag brunch but also accompanying me… if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.🥰
So now, ladies and gents, queue up Shania Twain (Let’s go girls!) and enjoy the show!
This name appeals to my love of all things bovine
The theme for our show
Kenn may now have flashbacks whenever he hears Cher.😂
Brunch was yummy! Yes, my plate is the one with the most food.
Let’s do this!
Umi Naughty – my favorite queen
Anya Androvna
Chasity Marie
Champagne (And can we talk about those boots?!)
Champagne
Umi Naughty (again)
Y’all, I had so much fun! Seriously, the whole thing was an absolute blast. It might pain him to admit it, but I think Kenn had fun too. Even if he still doesn’t understand my love of drag queens, he had fun watching me have fun. (It turned out that he was videoing me during the last part of the show and I’ve caught him watching that video several times. It makes him happy to see me happy.) He even joined me for the post-show photo with the queens.
I think this picture may make it onto our Christmas cards this year.🤔😂
I’m not a very sentimental person. At least, I’m not someone who gets attached to things. Fortunately, this trait comes in handy when it’s time to do a purge of “stuff” – even when the stuff isn’t mine. In 2010, we moved my parents from the house they had lived in for over 45 years to a much smaller house right across the street from us. My purging skills came in handy because my Mama was the complete opposite of me; for Mama, the memories and the items were tied together so she didn’t get rid of much. Let’s just say there was a lot of stuff to go through. We made many trips to the landfill and Goodwill. Of course, there was also a pile of things that I set aside for family as well.
Also in 2010 we moved my mother-in-law from her condominium into an Assisted Living facility. Fortunately, my in-laws had already downsized a couple of times: the first when they moved from the home where they raised their sons into an apartment, the second when my mother-in-law moved from the apartment to a condo after the death of my father-in-law. So, while we had some things to go through, it was nowhere near as much as what we dealt with when my parents moved.
The next opportunity to practice my “skills” came after my Daddy’s death. Kenn and I were still working full-time so Mama moved to North Carolina to live with my oldest sister and her husband. We tried to do some cleaning out before Mama moved but it was too hard on her so most of it took place after she left. This was the hardest one. There were a lot of items that went to friends and family but there was still a bunch left. This was the hardest purge for me. I was heartbroken and missing my Daddy and Mama’s leaving was kind of like losing her too. Yet, we needed to get the house cleaned out so that the owner could rent it out again. I did as much as I could but once I hit the I-can’t-do-this-anymore wall, we took the remaining boxes of stuff and stored them at our house. When we unexpectedly found our dream home a few months later, all of those boxes moved with us.
I steadfastly ignored the stack of boxes for as long as I could but finally had to grit my teeth and start working my way through them. Some were easy such as the boxes and boxes (and boxes) of papers to shred. Fifty year old income tax returns and bank statements anyone? However, there are the things that fall into What The Fluff territory that I have no idea to what to do with; the things that seem like they would be important to someone, but who? My Daddy was into model railroading and we had several boxes of N gauge train cars and tracks, miniature buildings, etc. Kenn had a brilliant idea and contacted the local model railroading association who gladly took all of the railroading paraphernalia off our hands. I came across several metal boxes containing photographic slides among my Daddy’s things. The photos dated back to the 1940s and 50s; none of them were labeled. I didn’t know who any of the people in the pictures were and had no way of finding out. Even though it hurt my soul a little, these pictures went into the trash. Cold? Possibly. However, I just can’t bring myself to keep boxes of photos that mean nothing to me.
Now I find myself faced with items like the ones pictured: newspapers and magazines dating back to the first moonwalk and possibly other historic events. These aren’t newspapers that have been properly preserved; they are folded in half and yellowed with age. However, I can’t just toss them because of their historical significance. So, dear readers, do you have any recommendations? A Twitter friend recommended contacting local museums however, where I live there are no local museums, LOL.
Dealing with all of this stuff for so many years has made me determined to not leave our boys with a mountain of crap to deal with when Kenn and I shuffle off this mortal coil. Of course, there will be some stuff, that’s unavoidable. Sorry, not sorry, for the random rocks and baggies of shark’s teeth guys!
Until next time, happy (and hopefully uncluttered) trails!
Okay, I realize that my experience in mostly solo camping is hardly on par with the ordeals encountered by the family of Laura Ingalls Wilder and the other brave pioneers who dared the unknown wilds of our country, but it’s the closest I will ever get since I don’t ever see myself boondocking. (This post is best read with Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman playing softly in the background.😉)
We towed our camper to the “wilderness” of South Carolina (aka an RV park) in mid-January 2022 where it would become my home for the next few weeks as we eagerly awaited the birth of the newest members of our family – girl/boy twins. (FYI: The twins are here! I blogged a bit about them HERE.) Shortly after we learned about the existence of the twins, I told Kenn that this was what I wanted to do. I knew that twins were likely to be born early and I wanted to be close by so that when my daughter-in-law went into labor I would be on-hand to take care of my grandson rather than being several hours away.
Technically, the first “excitement” was Winter Storm Izzy but that happened when Kenn was with me. (I posted about it HERE.) My first solo problem to resolve was when I woke up freezing at 4:30am the morning after Kenn left. Obviously, the propane tank was empty so it was just a matter of switching over to the other tank. Easy peasy, right? In this case, yes and no. I pulled on my boots and threw a coat on over my pjs and wandered out into the pre-dawn cold where I pulled the cover off the tanks and made the switch but then couldn’t turn the valve to the On position. I even tried turning the valve to the Off position just to see if it was already open and… nothing. The darn thing wouldn’t turn either way. I noticed that the line connected to the tank seemed to be loose so I tightened it before deciding to go inside, thaw out, and redress the problem once the sun came up. Once I could see what I was doing, I realized that not only was the connection to the tank loose, it wasn’t threaded properly at all so I removed it and reattached it at which point the connection showed green instead of red. I wish I could say that I realized that everything was good to go at this point, but I didn’t. I was tired, cold, and frustrated. (Seriously? This was my first day on my own and this is how it started?🤦♀️) It took Kenn reminding me that the green connection should mean that gas was flowing to the camper before I tested the heat – which was working fine.🤦♀️🤦♀️ I reduced the temperature on the thermostat in order to reduce my propane consumption and let the electric space heater do most of the heavy lifting as far as heating the Micro Lite went.
When Kenn came back for the weekend, we took both propane tanks to the nearest Ace Hardware for refilling/topping off. (Side note: we later learned it would have been cheaper to go to Tractor Supply.) We also used this as a test to make sure that I was able to disconnect/lift/move/reconnect the tanks both when empty and when full; I could.👍 Ruby is such a big truck that getting the tanks in and out of the bed was a bit of a struggle but I could make it work. Oh, we also checked to make sure that I was able to turn the valves on both tanks, which I could. I don’t know who tightened that valve so tight the last time the tanks were filled but geez, dude. I couldn’t turn it at all and it was a struggle for Kenn.
The next problem, a clogged camper toilet, occurred when Kenn was packing up to leave so we resolved that one together. The next solo problem, no water, occurred the morning after Kenn left. (Hmmmm. Does anyone else see the pattern developing here?🤔) I discovered the lack of water when I made my pre-dawn visit to the necessary. Fortunately, after Winter Storm Izzy, we began keeping a few gallons of water on hand for just such an emergency. Honestly, I was surprised. Yes, the temperatures the night before were in the 20s (Farenheit) but so were many others and I had left water dripping just as I had on all of those other nights. Once the outside temperature rose above freezing, I went outside and disconnected the water hose so I could move it into the sun; that’s when I discovered the problem: the water had frozen at the connection where the flow enters the camper. I used some of our stored water to melt the ice plug at the connector and then flushed the hose to make sure there was no ice in it. (There wasn’t.) Before reconnecting the hose to the camper, I MacGyvered a protective cover for the connection out of a zippered plastic baggie and a dish towel. It wasn’t pretty but did it help? Yes. Maybe.🤷♀️ There were several more nights in the 20s and we only had issues one more time,
My MacGyvered protective cover
It may not seem like much, but I’m proud of the not-quite-a-month I spent sort of on my own. (Kenn was with me on weekends and when the twins arrived.) You see, I’m one of those people who’ve never lived on their own. I didn’t want to move home after college, but I did since I wasn’t sure I could afford to live on my own. I wound up staying there until Kenn and I married. I’ve proven (at least to myself) that I can live on my own and deal with whatever comes my way.
February tends to be a rough month for me. In 2010 Kenn and I moved my parents from my childhood home (their home of almost 50 years) to the house right across the street from us. They remained there until my daddy died on February 16, 2016. Daddy had been Mama’s primary caretaker until about 3 months before his death. However, Kenn and I were both still working full-time and in-home care for Mama was prohibitively expensive so she moved to North Carolina to live with my oldest sister and her husband. Daddy’s death was hard enough but Mama’s move immediately afterward felt almost like losing her. We made regular trips to NC to visit but it was obvious that Mama’s health was also failing; she died on February 24, 2017. (My sisters and I would not have been surprised if she had died on the anniversary of Daddy’s death.)
Everyone’s grief journey is different. My experience is that grief lessens over time but it doesn’t completely fade. I also don’t look at the calendar and go “Oh, wow. It’s February. I need to be sad.” Invariably what happens is that I find myself feeling blue and wondering what in the heck is going on and eventually realizing “Oh. It’s February. No wonder my heart is aching.” Kenn is a great support and is always willing to provide hugs as needed. I also turn to Mass Effect, my favorite video game, and spend time saving the galaxy with my virtual friends. (What can I say? Some people have comfort foods or books or movies. I have a comfort video game.)
Mama and Daddy
The picture above is one of my favorites of Mama and Daddy. It was taken at our local Cracker Barrel (their favorite restaurant) in February 2015.
This year, I have something new to ease the February blues. Earlier this month, our oldest son and daughter-in-law welcomed twins. Meeting (and cuddling) these new little ones has definitely brightened my life. I will always miss my parents and the anniversaries of their deaths will always be hard, but having two new lives to celebrate (year round, not just in February) will certainly make things easier going forward.
Until next time, happy trails and… take the time to hug your loved ones and tell them how you feel.
Linda Lou's Life 