Out with the Old; In with the New

The 300 mile drive pulling my teardrop was a breeze because I kept repeating a valuable tip gleaned from my practice ride with Sally:  "WE stay in the lines...IT stays in the lines."

I'm still processing my new surroundings.  It's another 'dream' - living in a resort community along the coast, able to hit the beach any time I want.  I've spent my first week-plus gradually ridding myself of stress and anxiety to the point where I was THRILLED this morning to vividly recall a dream; the first one (since Tino died) in glorious Technicolor.  His sudden death knocked the REM right out of me, until last night: when I allowed someone to put Brilliant Green on my hair in an attempt to be With-It, as Mom would say. ONLY in my dreams, but I like to look at other's nerve.

The park is very nice and I like my fellow Workampers.  For new readers, I recently started a temporary-hopefully permanent assignment working a certain number of hours per week in exchange for a space to live in my RV.  There are a limited number of full-time residents, and the other spaces are already pretty much booked for the summer.  Ever-rotating neighbors, wouldn't you like that, too?  If I wasn't working here I couldn't afford to stay, so as I've told everyone I know, if they say, "JUMP!"  I'll answer, "HOW HIGH?"  Darn, here's the rain hail/snow again. I'll post pictures when the sun comes out.

As you can see, I don't have far to walk to work.  My job is in the office: making reservations, checking customers in and out; selling gifts and restocking (they've got the cutest kitsch) and playing nice with everyone, representing the company.  It's no schlub outfit.  There's a rec room; spa (no pool, just a beach within walking distance); 24-hr laundry; kitchen and dining areas for groups; all with combination-lock doors.  There's a fire pit on the upper level (with a view), where after Memorial Day they hold Saturday Happy Hours with appetizers, BYOB. Sunday mornings are bagels and donuts, I've got to avoid those. My 'uniform' is a nice embroidered-logo shirt, Emerald Green or Basic Black; I supply the bottom half.  Our monthly 'staff' meeting will be a Pot-Luck this Wednesday, I'm bringing Brats and Kraut, prepared in my unfamiliar MICROWAVE, how hard can that be?

Love my kitchen, w/space to paint

I'm parked on a concrete space, with a small grassy area on one side; Rhododendrums on the other; and my teardrop behind me, then some trees and a fence.  Workampers with HUGE rigs are parked on either side, which helps me from being buffeted by the wind.  It's been crazy weather, and for those who have never visited the Pacific Ocean from the Left Coast, you DON'T go swimming like the East, Tino and I learned that in '94.  The water's bitter cold even in summer, and as a 'Jersey Girl, used to walking out seemingly forever into the surf, out here there's a DROP 100 yds or so offshore (I'm probably inaccurate, but you get the drift). Walmart's a half-hour or so down the coastal Hwy 101; but there's a huge Goodwill just up the road.

The day we arrived I noticed a boo-boo on BC's elbow, so my first job was tracking down a new Vet.  Good thing it doesn't seem to be an Emergency, since even the first emergency appointment I could get was 9 days out (with only 2 Vets in town and both short-staffed).  New town, new rules.

We're several sites away from one of the Park's dog parks, which is nice.  But we had a hiccup involving BC after she and a pseudo-Rottweiler lunged at one another (BC was tethered inside my area, like this).  The owner complained that BC got her dog worked up and I was asked not to allow BC outside unless I'm outside; that's a bitch but not an uncommon rule in parks.  I agreed, of course.

Next hiccup was this month's bank deposit: my Social Security was short by about $150, what the??  Turns out the garnishment is from an old (2007-ish) SBA loan I had in Puerto Rico, when I was flat broke and couldn't pay it off.  I'd have thought, because I've collected SSI and SS for almost a decade, that if they wanted their money they'd have taken it already; which goes to show, you can't escape the Treasury Department.  They'll deduct the same amount out for the next 4 months or so and then we're square, coulda been worse.  As you can imagine, I'm thanking my lucky stars this Workamper gig started when it did; but annoyed I'm still paying for my last partnership (with 'the Captain'). 

Kit view to back

So several days later, puttering around my RV, I heard "Arf, arf," from BC and that same dog.  A couple of neighbors told me the dog had already caused issues from lack of exercise; and two weeks of obedience classes hadn't helped.

BC's been attacked a number of times during our travels, so we've both become skittish (me more than her) around strange dogs, particularly big ones.  But I've learned that if I first go over to the strange dog and owner while BC watches, she relaxes and no longer views the situation as threatening.   I didn't want to have an issue every day in my new digs, so on their way back, keeping BC calm while the strange dog tugged, I asked the man if I could approach them and why, and he said, Sure.

Duke's Master wasn't sure how Duke would react so I kept my distance, spoke softly and tried to stifle any fear-hormones.  The owner was friendly and we were chatting a bit while Duke sat picture-perfect by his side.

Playing cat and mouse

But apparently Duke had been eyeing BC, who was quietly watching us in the distance; when all of a sudden Duke took off in her direction.  I watched the beast drag his owner across the road, closer and closer despite the man's obvious strength, but Duke was determined.  My heart was in my throat as the owner kept yelling and tugging without any control, and I could only manage, "Beece!" as I envisioned a nasty fight, with my girl torn to pieces.

Thankfully Duke stopped just short of her nose and the owner dragged him away.  I was so proud of BC.  The encounter was witnessed and later described to the managers by another Workamper who came over to see if BC was OK.  The owner, hand bandaged from the encounter, made it a point to come over (alone) to BC and me the next day to apologize.  I think I handled that well.

Rust will be my greatest enemy.  I love the expression, "Oregonians don't tan; we rust," and so I've got to address the inevitability and paint the underside of the RV, unless I can hire someone to do it for me, please, God, I can use some help.

My old RV is gone, that's all I'll say. I yanked off my painted USA flag to put on my teardrop and replaced it with another metal USA sign (found in Goodwill), but instead of individual states I gave it a topographical look, kinda different.

"Out with the Old," in more ways than one.  It's a new town with changing characters, and I have an opportunity for real personal growth.  Looking forward to everything.