Opportunity

We had a window of opportunity.

With 6 new tires, 6 new brakes, and nothing else needing work on our trailer, we could leave Canada a day or two earlier than planned. 

American Thanksgiving, with its associated traffic, was a couple of days away.  

A Canadian snowstorm was coming in one.

We don’t normally like long days of travel. Pulling a trailer down the interstates alongside big tractor trailers and going through cities with little cars zigzagging unexpectedly in front of us can be tiring and stressful. To me anyway.

Plus you miss lots of interesting areas as you roll on by.

But this opportunity was too good to miss. The weather was good, and wasn’t going to stay that way. So we pointed our nose south, and didn’t look back. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.

This was the first time that we had crossed the border at the Ambassador Bridge in Detroit. It isn’t an especially easy crossing. There was the stop and go traffic of Windsor before the bridge, and a misleading sign directing cars and RVs along one blissfully quiet lane only to discover that we had to merge back into the same truck traffic later.

The scowling border guard threatened us with a $500 fine, confiscating of our truck if we had any undeclared meat, fruit, or vegetables and then let us pass after our wide eyed disavowals. Thank goodness we had given away our frozen packages of chili back at the trailer service center.

Once on the I-75 and heading south, we were golden. The roads in Michigan were rough, but the weather was perfect. We took the time to visit the Airstream factory in Ohio looking for some specialized parts, but other than that, we didn’t slow down until we hit Cincinnati. And then the late afternoon rush hour traffic did that for us.

At least when we did stop for the night, at an all night truck stop, we were beyond the snow and the below freezing temperatures.

The next day was one I didn’t even know existed: Thanksgiving Eve. But here in the States, that’s a real thing. And it turns out to be the busiest travel day of the year. Businesses close early, and everyone rushes to where they want to be on Thanksgiving – one day early. We expected the real Thanksgiving Day to be the road closure, but we were mistaken by one day. 

So we struggled through the day in bumper to bumper-car traffic and reached a campground just south of Atlanta to rest and recuperate for a few days.

Wait. Did I say rest? But we have not stayed in Atlanta before, so “resting” is done on our feet, checking out the tourist areas.

We visited the World of Coca-Cola, which was extremely busy on Black Friday.  Isn’t everyone supposed to be shopping? I couldn’t believe how many people wanted to go through a building holding the history and antiquities of a product that was 130 years old. But hey, we were there, too.

And we really enjoyed the old TV advertisements playing in the theatre. Oh, and all the free samples at the end, too.

Our first tourist stop of the city was to see the Georgia Aquarium. They have one humongous tank there that you can see from many different windows and angles, including a walking tunnel along the bottom of it. 

And that is where they keep the whale sharks. Huge gentle giants in among the manta rays, green turtles and scores of fish species.

And for some reason, we wanted seafood for dinner that night.

That was an opportunity that we wouldn’t ignore as well.

W

Home Renovations

Anyone that has been following this blog for the last 5 years knows that we no longer have a house. And that we willingly offer our skills and labour to our friends and family for work that needs to be done on their homes.

I have often said, since we don’t have a house to work on, we can work on yours.

However, that was put to a lie this week.  This week we undertook kitchen renovations in our own home – our 34’ Airstream trailer.

It started last fall.  The kitchen faucet started leaking from its base and needed to be replaced. Hubby said that he would replace it after the winter, since we were planning on spending the cold months in a house up here in Ontario.

It’s not as if he was taking the winter off – he had another project on the go involving fixing up an older trailer.

Spring came, and as promised, a brand new faucet was purchased and hubby removed the old one. To find that the sink underneath had rusted out after 21 years of life. Yeah, some days, I feel like that, too.

That started the project of finding another sink to fit that space.  It really wasn’t that hard to find, but it was not available anywhere close by, so had to be ordered online. While we were waiting for the sink to arrive, we looked at the condition of the similarly aged countertop. Well, why not? If the sink has to come out anyway….

This time we found a local supplier, but because of the RV dimensions, it needed to be cut to fit. Another two week wait...

Meanwhile, we have been living in this lovely trailer with no kitchen faucet. So washing of vegetables has to be done in the bathroom sink, and hot water for dishes has to be carried back to the kitchen. 

The benefit of a trailer is that the two rooms are only 6 feet apart. I can put up with that for a couple of weeks.

Finally the counter arrives! Out comes the sink. Out comes everything under the sink and several of the cabinet’s drawers. Out comes the stove… oh wait. We don’t have a plug for the propane line feeding the stove. Oh well. Turn off the propane. Surely it will only be a day. Or two. Of course, it also means no hot water for that time as well. Sigh.

We had a nice sunny day to remove the old counter. It meant hubby could use the outside deck as a workshop, putting up sawhorses to hold the countertops. Measurements were taken, and retaken, and then taken again.  Several times we were in and out of that tiny little space that is my kitchen.

Matters were complicated by a guest that stayed with us for a few days. This Australian Shepherd seemed to think that the best place to be was underfoot. And she’s big enough that when she lies down, it means the whole hallway is blocked. That made it interesting when the new countertop was continually in and out of the kitchen for fitting and cutting. 

So the dog and I went for long walks.

By the end of the day, the counter was in and secured, the stove squeezed into its proper place and the propane line hooked up. Yippee, we have hot water at the end of Day one!

Now begins the job of installing the sink. While the actual dimensions around the top of the sink are the same as the old one (don’t forget, we hadn’t originally planned on the new countertop), the new sink bowls are a good 4 inches deeper. This means re-plumbing the drainage lines. It also means visiting hardware stores to get all the parts and pieces necessary. And once out shopping, there are always groceries and other assorted things to pick up.

So ends Day Two.

Back to the hardware store we go the next morning. Seems we missed a vital component the first time. For certain, this will only be a quick trip in and out! Well, okay, maybe one extra stop at Bulk Barn. 

And a drug store. I think hubby is getting a headache.

Things start to look promising. Like the counter, the sink goes in and out of its allotted spot several times over the day. Another emergency trip to the hardware store is taken. This time, hubby hopes to save time by just getting me to go alone. The next half hour is spent trying to explain to me what is required. My “deer in the headlights” look should assure him that I fully understand. He gives up and goes with me. Day Three is finally over.

At least for me it was. I was exhausted. Dear hubby stayed up most of the night working on the plumbing and caulking. When I got up on Day Four, I had a sink installed. It was held down with the heaviest moveable objects he could find to keep the sink anchored until the caulking set.  Minor adjustments to the drain lines and the final caulking were accomplished before breakfast, and cabinets could be restored to their former full status. Tools were put away, and I had a beautiful new kitchen!

I really don’t understand how my hubby can do all the work of a renovation like this, and yet I am the one that is worn-out by the end of it. 

Before

After

W

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I know that I stole the title of this blog from a movie, but it just so perfectly describes our trip home.

For some reason known only to the gods of travel, we were unable to get any flight out of San Francisco in the daytime.  And the one that we could afford had an extra two stops before it landed us in Ottawa. So this “early to bed, early to rise “person gave up what little health, wealth, and wisdom she had left to board a plane shortly after midnight.

Air travel has changed. Gone are the days of being pampered by an air hostess, offered treats and pillows. Nowadays, pillows are for the first class passengers only. I felt lucky to find a tiny, thin blanket in a plastic bag thrown carelessly onto my seat when I arrived. And I must have missed the beverage cart during my half hour nap, because I received absolutely no refreshments through the 3 hour flight.

I did enjoy watching the sun rise rapidly towards us in the morning, and through the magic of time zones we landed in Minnesota in time for breakfast.

At the beginning, I had been a little concerned about this hopscotch flight across the country. On our reverse trip west, in reasonable daylight hours, our first flight was delayed due to mechanical problems. So we missed the next two flights, but were offered a new and more direct option, which would have turned out well except that plane also sat at the gate receiving emergency resuscitation before we could leave. Again.

But this midnight gamble paid off. All flights went smoothly and all connections were made without any mad dashes down the airport concourse. We even had time for meals in between. Since they obviously aren’t offered on the planes anymore. But it lent the trip a unique flavour: breakfast in Minneapolis, and lunch in Detroit.

We landed in Ottawa just before supper time. As a new treat, we had booked a train ride from Ottawa to Kingston. It had been years since I rode a train, and I was looking forward to the experience.  I even expected to enjoy supper in the dining car on the last leisurely leg home. Guess what?  Train travel ain’t what it used to be, either. Gone are the glamorous days of luxury and ease. Why drag a dining car down the tracks for the passengers’ enjoyment when a “snack cart” would do? Instead of hot meals, let’s offer a sandwich! I’m sure there was some bean counter involved in that decision. Have you noticed the drop in rail passengers? Hmmmm...

Oh well.  At least wine and beer is offered on the menu, and a cheese plate, however tiny. That at least is not a bad way to end a very long day.

So it was disappointing to be told that they had run out of wine. It must have been the French indulgence, since that particular train originated in Montreal and we got on in Ottawa. The rail executives making the supply decisions obviously didn’t think this through.

Our very last leg before a real bed was the automobile. Or in our case, our truck, graciously driven by my brother-in-law coming to pick us up at the station in Kingston.  Except he didn’t make it. Our truck, miffed at being left out of our recent trip, flashed red warning lights in his eyes just after he had driven too far from home to walk back. This wasn’t a subtle hint that maybe he should turn around and go back. No, no. This was a firm “STOP ENGINE” warning. So he did. At the side of the road.

Thank goodness for cell phones.

We were met at the train by a different member of the family, but we were met. And we all made it to our beds that night, although much later than originally expected. The truck was towed to a repair shop and the not-so-dire problem fixed the next day.

Ah, adventure. By planes, trains, and automobiles.

W

Spring Break

Mother Nature took a hissy fit this spring. There was more snow in March and April than we had all winter.  So to escape this very Canadian temper tantrum, we flew off for a month to California.

Now normally when one is heading for a Spring Break in California, one would pack shorts and suntan lotion. We pack tools and paint clothes.

Guess we always did take the road less travelled.

This is our third go-around in the San Francisco area since we retired. We are lucky to have family living here, and have enjoyed a lot of the touristy things the place has to offer. We have toured Napa Valley (a particular favourite of mine), eaten oysters by Bodega Bay, crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, and walked up the famous steep streets of the city. But for this trip we have other priorities.

Since we sold off all real estate holdings seven years ago now, we are very obliging about helping out family members still bound to the ball and chain of home maintenance. It doesn’t seem to be so much of a hardship to paint another person’s walls when you are not fretting about what should have been painted in your own home, had you gotten around to it.

So we have painted, and replaced carpeting, and fixed the various things that always need to be fixed in a house.

Again, we have turned my sister-in-law’s house upside down. 

In order to paint and re-carpet bedrooms, someone has to be moved out of it. It isn’t as though we have an extra bedroom to play musical beds with, either.  We invited a nephew who was in-between jobs to stay and play with us, and then kicked him and his belongings out of his room a few days in. At least we were fair. Hubby and I also had our turn at trying to find our luggage in amongst the relocated furniture and linens. And so did the poor beleaguered owner of the house.

To say that my husband is enthusiastic about projects like this is understating the matter.  He attacks these things like a football player tackles the opposition. We always start out with a well defined plan and specified improvements that could easily be accomplished in our time schedule. Yet even before the first goals are achieved, other things seem to come up that are important, too. 

So instead of merely having her upstairs redecorated, my dear sister-in-law now has a new kitchen sink and the main water shutoff valve to the house replaced. 

The front patio, started many years ago by her late husband, is now finished and new motion sensor lights adorn the outside walls.

But alongside these multiple projects, we also had summer without enduring a fickle Canadian spring. The weather was usually sunny and warm. Jackets were optional, and only occasionally worn with the shorts and flip flops that were our daily uniform. The landscaping that we slaved over four years earlier has come to maturity, with masses of flowers creating a colourful carpet in the garden we built.

And we had one fun day in San Francisco, playing tourist. We enjoyed a stop at the Golden Gate Bridge in the morning, clam chowder in a bread bowl along the Fisherman’s Wharf, and a visit to the Bay Aquarium before giving up the pretence of being tourists and joining the rush hour crush heading back home.

We are flying back into Canada in the first week of May. With luck, Mother Nature has matured into a more reasonable version of spring. We are more than eager to pull our Airstream out of her winter home and get her ready for summer.

It’s time to get our own house in order.

W

Snowbirds

After five years of heading to warmer climes when the snows threaten, one begins to wonder why anything that has freedom and mobility wouldn’t do the same. It must be enjoyment. Love of the fresh air and the crisp and sparkling snow. It certainly can’t be pleasure in the treacherous freezing rain and ice.

But since we have committed to spending this winter up north, hubby and I have been finding our own pleasure in the season. Because we don’t have to be out of the driveway at an unreasonable time in the morning (that's anytime before 10 am), we have been happy to use snow shovelling as an exercise. We even got the snowshoes out after a nice dump. The cross country skis have yet to be dusted off, however. We are waiting for a little more snow to cover the rocks along the back lane.

It turns out that many things don’t go south in the winter. And it is not all that obvious what those things are until it snows. Just a dusting of that white stuff creates an artist’s canvas on which the footprints of passersby paint their movements. Some of these expressions are cute, like the squirrel prints hopping from one tree to the next. Others are startling, as was the prints of the coyotes that came alarmingly near the house during the night.

Equally unexpected were the footprints of a lone turkey.  I wonder if he met up with the coyote.

And then there are the prints you talk to. “No, no, little mouse! Stay away from the house. Stay outside where it might be cold, but is much, much safer.”

We much prefer the bird prints. We refuse to feed the squirrels, and coyotes, and mice, but we do enjoy feeding the birds.

We have experimented with different types of bird seed, from buying it ready-made in bags to mixing our own from bulk stores. Suet was a new adventure for us, and after getting instructions my hubby the cook quickly went about making some. There is always a feeling of satisfaction when the food disappears quickly. 

Unless it was because a horde of starlings descended on our feeders en masse and didn’t leave until everything was cleaned out.

This house has lovely windows to see all these birds. Unfortunately, it’s the sound of them ricocheting off of the glass as they try to swoop through it that is bothersome. We’ve tried pulling the blinds down, but then we can’t enjoy the view, or watch the birds eating. Hmmm, feed the birds, kill the birds. That’s quite a dilemma.  Actually, I don’t think we’ve killed any yet. After the collision, I usually peek out the door to see a spread-eagled body, but later I notice the poor little thing is gone. Since I don’t see any coyote tracks leading up to the window, I assume the bird has shaken itself off and flown away. Hopefully wiser.

There are bigger birds than the turkey that have decided to winter in the cold. They caught me by surprise after a snowfall when I was driving along the lakefront. I saw small white “icebergs” in the water near a flock of geese, but it had not been cold enough to freeze the lake yet. 

Another glance saw the body of a swan come back upright after feeding on the bottom. My camera was never available whenever the swans did their “bottoms up” trick, but as there are 6 pairs staying in the area, we have been seeing them frequently.

Now, I don’t know for sure why all these other creatures decided not to go south for the winter. It may be that they knew it was going to be a mild one. Or that they knew just how far the loonie would fall compared to the US dollar. For us, it was merely happy circumstance.

It was a good year to be a snowbird in the snow.

W

House Wife

I’m no Martha Stewart. I consider myself a barely adequate and unenthusiastic housewife.

I don’t like cleaning, or polishing, or dusting all the knickknacks that one naturally collects over one’s lifetime. Putting out pretty plants that need tending, decorating for amusement just to take it down before the next occasion – I can do without that. I’m sure that makes me a terrible housewife.

It’s been six years since we sold our 5 bedroom house. We became free from house and yard responsibilities, traveled wherever we pleased, and the only cleaning and maintenance required was confined to 34’ feet of trailer.  I am a happy trailer-wife.

This year we are experimenting with staying a full winter season in Canada, staying in a farmhouse on the shores of Lake Ontario. 

It comes with accommodation for our Airstream, a lovely lane stretching back past the fields, and a scenic view overlooking the lake.

It is located in a friendly rural area, which means people drop by, often unexpected, at all times of the day. I quickly learned that I need to have tea and baked goods at the ready. As a result, I have gained weight. And its not that we’re eating more. At the trailer, people would often come over for campfires and happy hour, and indulge in snack foods and alcohol with us. I just didn’t realize how fattening tea could be.

Adapting to a temporary home does have some issues.  For the first little while, our feet were automatically searching for the pedal flush of the RV toilet. And it is disconcerting, first thing in the morning, when one is not quite awake, to come upon an unexpected full length mirror. Downright shocking, in fact. Especially after a full week of that sinful tea.

In a house that has more than 10 times the living space than we have grown accustomed to, we have a lot more storage space than we have had for many years. As a result, we have been buying in bulk during sales, gleefully shopping in Costco, and picking up larger sizes of supplies than we normally would have.

This means we are more likely to lose things. Or forget we bought them in the first place. I just hope we can use our stash up by the time we move on again. Especially the tea. We‘d better not have too much of that left over.

So far the experiment has gone well.  Hubby is happily involved in a massive project, located in another building on the property. He is completely gutting and renovating an old Airstream. His project keeps me happy, too. It means he’s not underfoot all day, but he is still nearby. 

And there are many amenities at the farmhouse that we have enjoyed: a laundry room, a huge flat screen TV, and a lovely woodstove to comfort us on cold evenings.

All this does not mean we want to stay stationary permanently. The opposite, in fact. We miss the excitement of having new places to explore, the comfort of being in our own little space, and the freedom to head off on adventures. We realize that we made the right choice in our lifestyle.

I love being a trailer-wife.

W

The Other Saskatchewan

I am vertically challenged.

Yes, I am physically short, but I also do not like being high up. I do my best to stay clear of standing on anything taller than my shoulders.  And don’t forget how short that is.

You would think that Saskatchewan would be an ideal place for me to hike. Everyone knows what the quintessential prairie province looks like, right? Flat.

No humps or bumps and definitely no cliffs or steep slopes.

So imagine my dismay when our daughter showed us the highlights of her province. High, being the operative word.

We camped at Buffalo Pound Provincial Park – as if there hadn’t been enough bison in our lives recently. But at least these hairy residents were tucked in behind tall fences, and observed at a distance.

This park is situated along a river, in the southern, and flatter, part of the province. But the river carved a few hills along its route. And it was these hills that we got to hike on.

Up and down we went, not a flat piece of earth anywhere. 

Nothing too terribly steep, but at one spot at least, the downward slope was such that I worried if I slipped, I wouldn't stop rolling until tomorrow.

Hubby and daughter were kind enough to leave me behind for the next hike. Castle Butte is a large hill of sandstone and clay, but it is craggy and steep, and I’m glad I stayed home in my cozy tent. For some reason, they seemed to enjoy the scramble to the top and the view of their tiny car at the bottom. I find it ironic that they had to drive over flat farmland to get to it.

Being in the prairies, it meant that when the weather changed, we could see it coming and act accordingly.  In other words, head for the car and keep ourselves dry. 

In fact, we headed for the underground. 

Someone in the city of Moose Jaw was smart enough to realize that outdoors was not a place to be when winter hits Saskatchewan. So, many years ago, under the downtown of the city they created tunnels to get across the streets and from one building to another. 

There is now a company that demonstrates what else the tunnels were used for in the past decades. They have recreated an old Chinese laundry, with bunkhouses and workrooms, and carefully explained the prejudice faced by these immigrants in the late 1800’s. Then they showcased the gangster life of the 20’s when Al Capone took the train from Chicago. They had hidden doors and staircases, and a tunnel behind a fireplace. 

Now, this is where I'm comfortable! 

I didn’t even have to duck under the doorways.

W