Tim’s got conferences.
Lola and I are along for the ride, in our longest RV adventure yet, covering 13 states in just over two weeks!
Who says RV parks aren’t classy?
Gritz Family Restaurant in McDonough, GA
Rolling onward, we found this place — no hiking trails, no lake, but plenty of character and lots of new farm friends for Lola. I think we’ll like it here at Gram & Pap’s.
But the place where we are finally set up — after two hours that made it seem as if we’d never even seen our own truck or RV before — is lovely. See? Self-serve produce, horsies on site, and pretty clouds over the farm house.
I shall explore and get back to you.
Enjoying a cool summer breeze
In soft, clover-filled grass
Not sweating
Nor being eaten by fire ants
In the middle of the afternoon
In July.
That’s a whole lotta “Can’t do this in San Antonio” right there.
Aaaaaaaahhhhhh.
Tim and seven attendees surround me at this one. I can’t follow the conversation about mobile syncing, terabytes, external accounts, hosts and clients, so I’ve been counting instead.
Much to my surprise, wedding bands outnumber Apple Watches, 5-2. One guy is wearing both.
Sigh.
This is a Canine Tie-Out Drying Apparatus with Optional Handlebar Lingerie Hanging Accessory.
I win.
Every year in July, my mom and a few friends from our Frostburg days gather at a river cabin in WV for a weekend of their own. The rules: no husbands, no kids, no counting calories, and what happens at the river stays at the river.
I was 14 in 1983, the first summer they went, and jealous beyond words to have been left behind. Surely I was mature enough to hang with the grownups? I was smart. I knew things. But no. Much pouting ensued — at least until I became a mom myself, and then I finally got it. Still wanted to join the fun mind you, but I got it.
And coincidentally, that year I became a mom — 1995 — was the year my FriendFest group started meeting, inspired by these River Women, and we are all still at it!
This year, their 33rd, the River Women broke the rules — but only for the final hour of their stay dontcha know — to welcome two daughters (also friends since 1983), two granddaughters, a son-in-law, and a dog. We got lunch. And hugs. And this. Historic. Photo.
Aviva, Shosi, Jennifer and me in the front; Lee, Sky, Mona and Elizabeth in the back. River Women Maureen and Nancy had already headed home, and all of us miss Linda, River Woman who floats on in our memories.
It was without a doubt the most unpleasant gift I have ever bestowed — and I once gave the boys a book called “Owl Puke,” which came with an actual owl pellet for dissecting.
Anyway, Tim tried to placate me with the reminder, “You know, it’s my understanding that the spiders were here first.” True. But really not helpful.
And since those fuckers were strung up every 8 feet along the entire 4.2 mile trail, I finished it looking and feeling like I’d been trussed up for a spider’s gourmet lunch. Cue the “helllllp meeeeee” scene from the end of “The Fly.”
Also? Ew.
Selfie taken after the hike around the lake, and before the hike into the lake.
Baby got back.
