The RV/Camping Show

Each year, the RV/Camping show in Green Bay is our first precursor of spring.  For five hours, we tramped through two huge adjoining buildings, the Green Bay Arena and the ShopKo Center, looking at recreational vehicles in every size imaginable.   We talked to campground owners and bought our 2011 state campground sticker which will give us half price admission.  

We were joined by the Battens from Batavia, Illinois.  We first met them at Beaver Lake in the Chequamgon National Forest.  They drove up from Illinois because they want to change from their current camper to something larger that will also serve as a traveling office.  The Stellicks, who live near High Cliff Park, were there, too, thinking of upgrading from a pop up to a hard sided camper.

Gary was in his element, taking our friends around to talk to vendors he knew.   We were not buying anything this day, but he could help with the decision making process.   He is moving closer and closer to deciding that he will join me this summer on my trip west.  If we were to buy a new camper, it would have to be one with a second bedroom that could be converted into an office for me, a place I could work on various writing projects. But that will probably have to wait for another year.

The next step toward spring will come in February at the Boat Show.  This year, kayaks and canoes will be part of the show for the first time. Gary is very interested in adding a kayak to his flotilla of canoes so we'll be back in Green Bay, tramping through the Arena and Center.  

March brings spring, my birthday, and likely our first canoe trip of the year.

Brrrrrrrr!

It is that time of year when the topic of conversation is either the weather or the Packers.  I'll go with the weather.

It was -10 degrees F. outside and only 50 degrees in this office when I got up. The heat doesn't kick in until 6:00 a.m.on the programmable thermostat so for fifteen minutes I shivered.  Now I am sitting here in a fleece robe, warm wool socks, and mukluks.  Under the robe is some long underwear I got on a terrific sale yesterday.  I'm wearing a warm coat over all of that.  I have a little space heater under the desk that is warming things up, plus I lit five candles around the house. They don't warm the house up much but give the illusion of heat.

 The temperature in here has already raised to 56 degrees.  Still cold!  I am keeping my hands warm with a cup of tea.

Gary and I are talking about going to the heated arthritis pool at the aquatic center and sitting there all day.  We would get all wrinkly but at our age it doesn't make much difference.  Meanwhile we talk about beaches we'll visit in the summer.  I'll be sitting at the edge of the Pacific Ocean in July, but before that, there will be the little lakes that dot Wisconsin.  I have photos of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans here in my office and I stare at them pathetically.

It's still 59 days until spring.  

Fighting the Good Fight

Yesterday morning, I spent forty minutes in the pool at the Seymour aquatic center.  In the afternoon, I did an hour of yoga practice at the Good Shepherd Home.  In the evening, Gary joined me for upper body strengthening exercise at the fitness center at the high school.  I lost two pounds.


Then this morning, I made Gary a full breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs and fried potatoes with onions. "Win some, lose some,"  I said.   Gary said, "No, it's "lose weight, gain weight."  He is probably right, but I spent over two hours walking around the Fox River Mall in Grand Chute, dodging shoppers as I made three mile circles around the interior of the facility.  The mall is the only place where I can do long range walking when the wind chill is -30 degrees, at a point where Fahrenheit and Celsius meet.   


I'll know if it was enough when I weigh myself tomorrow morning.  

Looking out the window

Rascal and I enjoy looking at the birds through my office.  Being half Siamese, he mutters under his feline breath  and twitches his tail.  His viewing has murderous intent, but snow keeps him inside and harmless.  Me, I watch with a small pair of binoculars and a Sibley's guide.  

I start a new year long bird list in January.  My goal is to reach 200 birds for the year, and with an upcoming trip this summer, that is likely to happen.  This year, I'm having a slow start, perhaps because my eyes are so often on the computer as I work on short stories, novels, and essays.   If I looked up more often, my list might be bigger.
At the moment, it stands at thirteen, in order of sightings:
Kestrel
Crow
Black capped chickadee
White-breasted nuthatch
House sparrow
House finch
Cardinal
Downy woodpecker
Rock dove
Mourning dove
Hairy woodpecker
Starling
Dark eyed junco

By now, goldfinches, blue jays, red-breasted nuthatches, red-bellied woodpeckers and their deadly enemy the Cooper's hawk should have visited, but I haven't seen them.

Once the weather improves, Gary and I will be out exploring again and I will be sure to add more birds.  We know that there are eagles on the Fox River and there may be a snowy owl near Freedom.  With wind chills below zero, it seems best to stay where we are and watch the birds through our window.

Worry, worry

Modern communications are wonderful.  I can talk to people via e-mail, instant messages or Skype all around the world.  In a matter of minutes, I can talk to friends in Scotland, Ireland, Great Britain, and  the Netherlands and on the other side of the world, to Australia and New Zealand.

When blizzards hit Europe over Christmas, I was able to find out that Heather in Scotland was safe though stuck in the Highlands.  I learned that things were not that bad with the Crisps, who live in Essex.  Bernie Dunn, former Wisconsinite who has lived in and loved Amsterdam for 35 years, video taped the vehicles sliding around and posted his treks around the city on You Tube and alerted me of that on Facebook. He was able to show me what was going on as he Skyped in from a restaurant.  

When an earthquake hit New Zealand, Margaret Copland was able to reassure me within an hour to tell me all was well.

However, when the communications system breaks down, I begin to worry.  Sue Robin, from Brisbane, gave me updates about the Australian floods as they progressed down the Brisbane River through Queensland.  Places I visited there, like Toowoomba, were inundated, but she thought that Brisbane would be fine if the dam hold.  Hold it did, but only by letting the overflow go through the system, meaning that parts of the city were flooded.  But it was at that point that Sue stopped sending me reports.   Did her beautiful home overlooking the river survive?  Her children have homes in the flood zone.  Are they OK?  And what about an elderly couple she told me about that required care for their dementia.   Were they and their caregivers evacuated in time?  

So I wait until the lines of communications are opened again.  Meanwhile, I worry.

Late Morning

For some reason, I overslept this morning, which meant that Gary's and my liftoffs started simultaneously.   So instead of eating my usual sensible breakfast of toast and a grapefruit, I  splurged on blueberry pancakes topped with real butter, blueberry syrup and a dollop of whipped cream, with a side of bacon.  In an hour or so, I'll go off to the aquatic center to see if I can wear some of it off.

Last night, his niece was complaining that her husband wants her to cook like me.  I told her it took me years to learn how to cook, and I still only have a handful of stellar recipes.  The rest of the time, ease is what I have in mind when I open the freezer, refrigerator or pantry doors.

It never pays to advertise cooking skills in a small town, or soon one is on demand for every bake sale.  When I returned to Seymour some thirty years ago after living elsewhere, the ladies of the Methodist church asked me to make a Jello mold for some event.  I told them I didn't know how to make Jello and got a reputation of being a novice in kitchen skills.  I never let it be known that the reason I didn't know how to make Jello is that I didn't like it.   I kept the reputation which has saved me hours of volunteer work.  

Lack of green and gold fervor

Seymour, Wisconsin, my hometown,  is a mere sixteen miles from Green Bay so you would think I would follow the Packers, but I don't. For me,  football is a game,  and only that. I wonder about people who seem to owe their sense of self worth to whether a sports team wins or loses.

What I do like about Packer games is that during their duration, I can go on solitary hikes, knowing that there will be little or no traffic noise and no one to disturb wildlife with guns, snowmobiles or ATVs.  Christmas shopping is made so much easier when the Packers are playing. My favorite coffee shop is empty so I can sit with my notebook computer and write short stories.

I take no foreign visitors to the Packer Hall of Fame. Why would they care?  There is so much more to see in Wisconsin than that.

 If I were to follow football, I would only watch the final quarter, which seems to me to be the important one.  I mentioned this to a friend, and went on to say I never saw the point in watching anything but the ninth inning of a baseball game, the last few minutes of a basketball game, and so on.  She said, "You really like to cut through the crap, don't you!"   She was right.

So no, I own no green and gold shirts, wave no pennants, worship no quarterbacks.  I yearn for February when the season is over and my friends will once again be capable of sensible conversation.