In search of fleas...

One of the most well attended gatherings in the area is the flea market in Donna Texas. Thrice a week, this shabby little village just east of here, is mecca for vendors of all products from fancy belt buckles and whips to silver jewelery and hubcaps. It's probably a disease that some medical journal could explain, but whatever draws people to these affairs is quite potent. Or maybe just everyone around here is bored ... but whatever the reason, they come and they buy. And it really doesn't matter if you're in need of anything, just people watching is worth the trip.

Tent after tent, booth after booth the vendors are a seasoned lot. Many, I suppose make a living at this but it's got to be a meager one. Surrounding the market is a ring of trailers, fifth wheels, and motor homes where some of the vendors live. Most of the rigs have seen many a market day and were pretty rough. Sewer hoses disappear along muddy causeways between the rigs; going where, is anybodies guess. Apparently electrical service is also present but it must have been installed while the inspector was out to lunch.

Amongst all the different rigs was a motor home of some distinction. The Barth coaches date back to their introduction in 1963 and served as platforms for not only custom built motor homes but other specialized vehicles for the government and industy. The quality and fit and finish of these coaches is mirrored in several of todays units. Sporadically built into the 90's, they now enjoy an almost cult status. I didn't get a chance to look this one over much but it was a first for me. So if you are into coach watching (if you are you can get medical help) keep an eye out for one of these old gems.


Some say you can judge a man's personality by his face. You know...laugh lines and the like. So with that sage piece of backyard psychology I often seek out those who have happy faces and ask if I can take a picture or two. Most cases they obilge and I'm getting to think that the old saying really works. I watched from afar this guy selling trinkets of one sort or another. Looking over his black framed half-eyes, the twinkle in his eyes, the way he engaged his customers told me this guy was a good candidate. After several customers were taken care of I stepped up and he spoke first asking if I had been taking his picture. Well I couldn't really deny it as the shutter is a little noisey and I said "yes" and asked if I could take more. He removed his glasses, as I don't think he wanted to be photgraphed in them, and gave me the okay. We talked a little as I shot and based on that short conversation, I confirmed he fit the mold ... he was an interesting character who was perfectly happy selling his trinkets. I thanked him and stepped aside so as he could ply his trade. Another neat human being.


The market is sort of like a living organism. It grows... it shrinks... it changes with the weather ... it rearranges itself each time you go there. Vendors swap booths. Some leave ... new ones arrive. New products are added. You return the next week to locate that hat you wanted to buy and you spend a half hour trying to locate the seller in his new location. Maybe that's what is making these markets so successful. Nothing changes but everthing is changed. Anyway it fun and we look forward to finding our next one.

As we were about to leave we saw a small crowd gathered in a semi-circle intently watching something interesting. Positioned just behind a country band made up of some real 'good ole' boys' picking a little Ferlin Husky tune, was a poorly dressed clown. I could see he had his old van parked nearby and there was a racoon on the roof scampering around. Interesting, I thought. There was also a rather rambunctious rooster perched on a stand startling passerbys if they got too close.

The clown was working the crowd with jokes and pranks and an invitation to take a seat and have your picture taken. No big deal I thought and working for a $1.oo a Polaroid picture was no way to get rich and besides, who amongst the retirees would really want a picture taken with a clown. As I eased my way closer to the front I saw an old women who was wearing an outragous hat with orange hair sticking out the top. At least 80, this old dear was now the main attraction and I could see what she was really there for. For $5.00 you could sit down and get your picture taken, not with the clown but with a 5 ft alligator on your lap. It quickly sinks in that this side-show has some serious uniqueness to it. She gingerly sat down and the clown removed her weird hat replacing it with a camouflage jungle hat. He then placed a large yellow tarp over her lap the grabbed this gator' from a nearby table. The old reptile wasn't too happy at being moved and began whipping his large tail around. Luckily the old girl wasn't slapped by it as he menuvered around to place it on her lap. The gator's mouth wasn't taped nor were the long, clawed feet; the only restraint was a dog harness around its neck and front legs. Weighing in at probably 60 pounds, this leathery reptile, though seemingly calmed down now, was placed on the old girls lap. The clown, now moved to her rear placed an opposum on her head and his assistant snapped the $5 dollar photo. From my vantage point about five feet away, there was no way I'd have they toothy flesh eater anywhere near me or my grandmother even. The jaws of this critter could have grandma's head for lunch before old sparky the clown could have recited one of his tired old one-liners. But, as it turned out, grandma escaped unharmed; (and un-crapped on thanks to the tarp and hat) no doubt pleased with her new photograph and accomplishment. A good lesson for us youngsters... you only go round' once so grab all the gator' you can. But I really think the crowd owed her a bit of graditude for having the guts to do this in the first place. We didn't stick around to see who the next customer was but it sure the hell wasn't me.

So neither fleas nor alligators got close to me but it was another great outing and another tale to tell.

We want to again thank Mo, Di and Molly (small brown weiner dog) for their hospitality and all the time they spent showing us around this interesting part of the county. Without their encouragment to visit here we would not have ventured here and as a result, became even closer friends. And we have vowed to learn a little Spanish before we come here again however. When in Rome..

So tomorrow we end this chapter of our journey. In the morning we head towards the city of Galveston Texas. With an overnight stop in Victoria, we should be to our next destination near the gulf coast just north of Galveston and south of Houston. We're looking forward to some time near the gulf and to enjoy some fresh seafood, visit the Houston Space Center, and soak up some of the local culture. Tag along if you'd like as we're still ... livin' the dream.

Dogs, birds, monkeys and a GMC

Lots of little adventures the last couple of days. A trip to the local dog track, though it didn't prove too profitable, was fun and gave me a chance to shoot some images of the skinny little speedsters. Originally I was told I couldn't take photos but turned out to be okay as long as I didn't use a flash. Later as I approached the starting box where the dogs are launched, someone asked if I was with the 'paper'. Of course I nodded yes and proceeded on.












The shooting location was a lot closer than I had planned, which was fine with me, but I sure could have used a flash. As I was down shooting pictures, Sharon was almost betting on a big winner up in the clubhouse. I say almost as she got behind a slow bettor at the parimutuel window and missed making the wager. So $277.02 went to some other player and she fumed all the way home. It was one of those famous 'hunches' of hers based on the numbers in her fathers birth date. Maybe next time.

We were driving around, almost lost, yesterday and stumbled across a stone marker planted on the corner of a remote road. I briefly got a glance of it but motored on telling Sharon I'd stop back later and take a picture. She urged me to turn around to check it out as I probably wouldn't pass this way again; and I'm glad I did. Here in the out-of-the-way area, overgrown with weeds was this marker in front of an old, dilapidated house that noted that this was once owned by the famous jurist Williams Jennings Bryan (Scopes "monkey" trail where he argued against Clarence Darrow back in 1925, remember?). Okay so this wasn't such a big deal but how many of you knew it was here in southern Texas? Anyway something to remember when I'm older and greyer.

Some folks may vaguely recall that this area is also smack in the middle of some of the largest migration paths of waterfowl, northern song birds, and butterflies. So, every now and again some of them stop and rest on whatever they can find to land on. Trees, fences, telephone poles...what ever looks comfortable I guess. Well it hasn't taken me too long to figure out where not to park the car. Whew...what a mess. They are interesting to watch however when it gets close to roosting time towards evening. Thousands upon thousands in the sky moving like the northern lights...dancing in rhythmic waves in the sky...pretty cool I'd say. This area is also famous for its birding (bird watching) locations drawing many from all over to view the migration and winter nesting. I stopped out to one of the state run stations the other day and had a very informative discussion with one of the workers. This is serious business with these folks and they help preserve the habitat needed to keep the bird populations thriving. When I asked about the butterflies she said in one acre they had seen over 32 species last week. Weird you may say that I was even out there but it sure beats mall hopping.

We were checking out some of the other RV parks in the area and stumbled across a rare old RV that many of you may remember. Technically, the GMC motor homes were way ahead of their time with a unique, innovative design that even today is modern and stylish even after almost 40 years.

The limited production (some say they were built just for GM execs) units had a fiberglass outer body and used an Oldsmobile Tornado front wheel drive train. They now have almost reached cult status and when I see one I like to grab a photo or two. This one was a gem.

We did have a few laughs yesterday (of course at someones elses expense) when the propane delivery truck stopped by the site across the street from me to delivery some of the 'liquid gold'. The worker was just a little too hasty, and careless when he dragged the hose from the truck to the empty tank.

Apparently trying to pull it around a water outlet pipe, he managed to bust the pipe off at ground level causing our own 'old faithfull'. Many were without water for several hours but as I'm told by some of the 'locals', this is nothing new.

So goes another day poking around places we've never been, discovering new things, and meeting new people and still....

...livin' the dream

Readers....

We just added a new feature to the blog that records the location (on a map) of where each of you who log on to this site are. (It's located within the panel to the right of your screen further down the page.) It's just a little feature we added to verify that few people actually read this thing and this is really just an exercise in finger gymnastics and blatant self promotion. Our plan was to originally sell this blog to either National Geographic or Boys Life, become filthy rich and re-retire in a motor home somewhere in Texas. It looks we're going to have to fall back to our other plan of writing a screenplay for a reality based TV series. Something about old people driving mega-ton RVs along America's back roads.

As always and still ....livin' the dream.



Phil & Sharon

Wandering ...again

As our (almost) daily case of cabin fever set in, we decided to head out to South Padre Island. This sandy (duh) island about 40 miles southeast of us is about to become a temporary home to many a college kid seeking the sun, fun, and mostly the chance to try out all the sins adults take for granted. The island is quite isolated and is reached by causeway from the west.
As they say 'timing is everything' so the island was pretty quite now as college spring break won't officially kicked off for several weeks. Not that fighting our way through throngs of barely clad coeds or trying to remain upright during the midnight conga line on the beach would have been bad....just a little awkward... maybe. Thankfully the scent of Ben-Gay permeated the sea breeze and bald and grey made up the 'in' crowd this time of year. Not having to weave around muscle cars, unicycles, and skateboards but only an occasional aluminum walker and a 1998 Buick LeSabre, made getting around much easier. Hotels, condos,bars, hotels, condos, and bars made up most of what's there. Sure there was the Golden Arches, a marina, and lots of beach but where the hell was Home Depot, Walgreens, and a good vitamin shop I ask?

Speaking of sand and wind... there were several folks out practicing for the upcoming kite flying championship. After watching these guys for a few minutes I think this sport is a little dangerous. As the wind quickly shifts direction...the kite flyer has his hands full just keeping these little nylon cloth birds aloft and at worse, getting out of the way of one that decides, like a boomerang, to quickly return to the guy holding the string. The upcoming contest should have hundreds of flyers and would be something worthwhile to see.

Leaving the island, we wander back through the city of Harlingen. An ever-growing winter playground for northern escapees, this sprawling community is joining others like it along the Rio Grand Valley into forming an almost continuous city ranging the Brownsville to Mission. My guess is that more and more boomers will discover this relatively inexpensive retreat and it will, for good or bad, lose it's charm and become more of a reflection of Florida.



We thought we'd check out the airport in Harlingen as it's probably the best one to fly into for the area. Modern and convenient to the major highways it was serviced by Southwest Airlines.


Near the airport, there was a duplicate statue of the Marine Corp memorial in Washington DC. It was on the grounds of a military prep school and was part of the cadets responsibility to maintain it along with a Corp museum. I don't know why someone decided to build this memorial here in the tropics of Texas, but the impact of this art is dramatic and everlasting. See it once, see it a hundred times, it commands respect and gratitude for what it represents.

We also managed to locate the local dog racing track in Harlingen. It happened to be 'Winter Texans Appreciation Day' so we got in free; this should have been a clue that this was going to be the one only thing that was free this day. We purchased a program and a tip sheet and headed off to find a seat. We opted for the reserved section, complete with tv monitor and began the secretive process of picking a winner. Since neither of has been to a track lately, reading the racing form has always been a challenge with all the unique 'track' language used to explain the dog's past racing history. From all this data: weight, starting position, class, pedigree, racing times, does it eat Kibbles and Bits, or Iams...the information is overwhelming. Making ones decision based on name, color, or whether or not he stopped to relieve himself is far more precise... maybe. I am beginning to think our current political campaigns are maybe best judged this way as well.

The weather has turned sour again with cold (41) and rain for the past two days and will remain this way for a day or so longer. This will allow me time do work on some photos I'm going to display here in the park and give Sharon some time to do some sewing. We're promised the 70's and 80's this weekend so we're planning our outdoor activites now. The bird sanctuary and butterfly farm are currently on the agenda.

Scouting Mission

The weather forecast was a little Michigan-like with the highs in the mid 40's and rain so we decided to head up the coast to Corpus Christi to check out some of the rv resorts in that area. Our stay in Alamo is scheduled to end in a couple of weeks so what better time to find out a little something of our next planned stop. I say planned stop as we thought we'd make a stop in this area to soak up a little of Padre Island, Port Aransas atmosphere before heading on east to Florida. After reading a number of the slick rv park advertising brochures we were excited to see for ourselves what was available.

We arrived in the southwest area of Corpus Christi and were surprised a little by its size. Lots of freeways and shopping areas. We headed to the first park only to drive into the Naval Air Station by mistake. I kinda of got distracted as one of the new Marine Osprey VTO aircraft was landing and it was interesting to see it in person. Anyway, the corporal at the gate got us turned in the right direction and we quickly found the first park. Oceanside, pool, WiFi and all the am entities the brochure said...well I suppose that could be the case but one look told us I wouldn't park a dump truck in this place. Muddy streets, trailers and rv's older than some of jokes I tell, and all packed in there like sardines. Scratch this one off the list. We headed north to several that were nearer the city and made another discovery. Corpus Christi is a oil refining town in a big way. Cracking towers and miles of piping made up much of the nearby skyline. Plumes of billowing smoke of unknown materials filled the sky and some strange odors permeated the air. We arrived at the next park only to find it, like the other not quite as advertised. Not only was is down wind of the refinery but next to an aging cemetery. In addition is was poorly maintained and had far too many 'vintage' unkempt rv's to suit me. Not that I'm getting snooty but there was more mold and moss on some of these units than you see on a trip through the Everglades.

And so it went...park after park in poor condition and greatly over promoted in the brochures. To make matter worst, several of the places even had good ratings in the national rating books. We moved on to Port Aransas and found it a little too remote and then on to Rockport. We did find a modern, well kept park there but in the end decided that it was too remote. Maybe we're to accustomed to nearby malls and other places to visit but this area was just not getting it for us. The only highlight of the trip was an ocean side restaurant where we enjoyed one of the finest shrimp dinners we've ever had. If we had only had been there on Wednesday night as it was 'all-you-could-eat' shrimp night for only $11.99. Great place for seafood with a great view of the bay... a nice ending for a crummy day of park hunting. But we're sure glad we looked before booking ... something we don't usually get a chance to do. It was getting late and we had a three hour trip ahead so we headed back knowing that we had to make some decisions soon as where our next camp will be.

Routines... and Mexico

Getting used to retirement is like getting used to anything else. There's a few rocky fits and starts but after awhile the groove sets in and life is normal again. I think we're surrounded by normal people who have got it figured out and we're the examples who haven't. You see we're not content yet. The wanderlust, that invites changes, is still present so we're actively planning our next move. Not that we're not happy here as it's been one of the best places we've been but there is that something that gets us excited about new places that wait around the next bend.

One of the neat things that have made this stop fun is that Sharon's aunt and uncle winter here and have taken the time to show us around to all the sites in the area. Not only the best places to go but the ones to avoid as well. They encouraged us to come to south Texas in the first place and their advice was golden. The people, the park, the weather, and the chance to be with family again has made this a special stop. We've still got about two weeks to go and plans are quickly forming to take advantage of every day.



The rainy weather the past day or so has brought the temperature down and has kept us from visiting some of the outdoor attractions we had planned. However it ended this morning and we all decided to take a trip to the little city of Progreso just across the border. As with many border towns I suppose, they're not much to look at but novelty is the draw and maybe even a bargain or two. Our tour guides (you remember...Mo and Di) have been here many times so it was nice to have a little help in understanding what we were getting into.

As we waded through the vendors and beggars we can upon a vendor that Mo knew would offer good deals on hats. As it turns out we were all in the mood to buy so before long the young Mexican hat salesman and his sister had us all trying on various styles and sizes. Di finds a dandy and we all agree it looks good on her. Don't you think so too?

In total the four of us purchased five hats and probably could have had more if we had stayed a few minutes longer. At around $10 each we all thought we were getting a good deal.

As we have travelled around it never ceases to amaze me of the inventiveness of people who create opportunities for themselves no matter what their circumstances. There is no argument that Mexico is a poor third world country and its people need to scratch and dig for most of what they have. Few handouts from the government, and a still struggling economy, has created a region that exemplifies the old saying 'necessity is the mother of invention'. Easy examples are those who have taken advantage of the lack of drug distribution laws. It seemed like every other establishment was a drug store with employees on the sidewalk hawking every thing from Amoxicillan to Zocor. No prescription needed. Step right up. These stores were busy filling orders from those who shun Walgreens and WalMart on our side of the border. Where their stock comes from or is it counterfeit is any ones guess. Saving big money on medical expenses rules.

Another eye opener was seeing the many medical offices offering a wide variety of medical procedures...eye lifts, teeth whitening, liposuction, and tattoo removal...the list goes on. You need it done, somewhere in the bowels of Progreso is a shop that will do it for you. These people have figured out how to eck out a living doing what their laws and conscience allow. Their market is the steady flow of US citizens who seek them out.

Maybe not the most unique or demanding job on the planet is shining shoes. Cowboy boots, work boots, high heels, low heels, wingtips, or penny loafers..the street corner vendor can do it all. But I ran across one who saw a need, created the service, and by all observations has a steady clientele. His speciality was shining white gym shoes. Bring on your filthy Adidas', your grungy Nikes... it makes no difference. I watched these mud magnets turned into Cinderella slippers in this man's hands. He may have not been the mother of that invention but he certainly took advantage of the throngs of Gringos needing a cleanup. Good for him...honest, hard work to help take care of his needs.

Among the citizens of Progreso a number chose, for whatever reason, to beg for money. During the two or three hours I was there at least 25 people approached me asking for money. Youngsters as young as 5 holding out dirty Styrofoam cups gently.tapping on your arm, 'please senior, Please'. I've had this happen to me in other places and it's still hard to turn your eyes away and keep walking. If you didn't you may never leave, but you do anyway. This small army of pan handlers are joined by mother's sitting along the main sidewalks, holding their nursing infant in one hand and holding that dirty Styrofoam 'begging' cup in the other. A distraction at best, a tragedy at worse.

I will probably not return to the border towns again. The novelty quickly wore off and the extremes in cultures are a little to much for me. Maybe feeling a little guilty because what material things we have is part of it, but like many, I'll choose to turn away and just avoid it. Probably nothing to be proud of I suspect. As we were leaving the small town and were about to walk over the bridge to the US, we caught some movement at our feet.

Small vertical openings were present along the edge of the bridge walkway. Not more than 4 or 5 inches wide; just enough to get a hand through, this last window into poverty had a withered hand thrust through it holding an upturned hat. A last chance to get a donation, a handout, maybe something to buy dinner with, maybe something to put into their IRA...who knows.. but it was there. Sharon succumbed to the plea and put a few coins in the hat. It wasn't much, it didn't undo the sadness.

On a much, much lighter note...my daughter requested that if we were going to Mexico would we pick up several bottles of tequila as the prices were very low. Since I know little about the fiery concoction, she offered up a few names to look out for. Noting that we would be gone for another four months she was undaunted in her request. So, as we wandered among the shops we found many a bottle of the potent stuff. Prices were good as a ten dollar bill would buy 80% of the brands. However the brand she wanted was not on every shelf. I looked and looked. Three, five, six shops were scoured for this magic elixir with little luck. But, with aching back and sore feet I finally found it at the last shop I visited just before leaving the country. Don Julio 1942. What a pretty bottle I thought. What made this pale yellow liquid so appealing? Why was it so scarce? Was it that the locals thought it a bad product? Was it in high demand? No...no..no

It was the price! Not for the faint of heart, this fluted bottle of buzz juice was priced for the champagne budget...not a Budweiser one. As you can see it's a pricey little gem that for some, may be the answer to the perfect drunk but for me and my old conservative ways, nothing I could ever justify.

So sorry Scott...sorry Leigh...sorry Kevin...sorry Jenny...sorry Steve. I've let you down and those bottles are still on the shelf. This old Gringo just couldn't swing the deal this time. As for the other Don Julio 'flavors' you requested, none were found.

How about some Stiner Bock?

Alamo ... The city of Two Summers

We're all settled in and had a chance to meet several of the neighbors over the past several days. Apparently these folks have stopped taking their meds as most are as full of 'it' as some say I am. Most don't realize their are supposed to be sedated or pounding out some ancient rhythm on a bingo card. They are alert, active, and some might even say normal and most don't fit what I thought would be 'retired folks'. Since we're sorta new to this retirement thing, knowing how to act is a learning process. Being a little reserved and timid I could have been fair game to these local jokesters but I quickly learned that the best defense is a good offense. Verbal sparing is an art form that is well tuned here. If this is what retirement is going to be like well let me in. I hear that laughing, smiling and having fun makes for a long life so these folks must have a lot of time ahead of them.

I had the coach cleaned top to bottom yesterday by a group of 5 locals. The old girl (the coach) hasn't shined as good in months.

One of the neat things we've learned that even though this isn't prime fruit and vegetable time, there are plenty of vendors about with all kinds of fresh stuff.

Today we unashamedly made our second trip to the 'no-name' restaurant. Mo and Di took us (Shar and Ph) there a couple of days ago and it warranted a return visit. When we first arrived there I was sure we were at the wrong place. Located in a sub-division near the town of Donna, the place shared the space with a now defunct massage parlor. Visions of some really bizarre combo meals crept into my head but were quickly extinguished by the dear wife. If you can imagine a small, unkempt commercial building with large windows in front, no signs what-so-ever and a small rat like dog guarding the front door you'll get a mental picture of this place.

Upon entering the front door we needed to find a path through the tables to the counter in back. Not exactly the Four Seasons but apparently they had something going for it as there was wall to wall people eating or waiting to be fed everywhere. I immediately thought there were giving out free drug samples as why would so many people be here but soon realized this place was the areas not so secret hot spot. Three ladies were working behind the counter. One taking orders, one prepping the meals and one cooking. Poetry in motion one could say. Feeding this steady stream of winter Texans took coordination, organization, and stamina. The menu was spartan so as not to complicate the staff. If you wanted a hot dog...too bad, chicken sandwich...too bad, salad with those cute little shrimp...too bad. If you wanted a hamburger the size of a dinner plate, with meat hanging over the bun like a overstuffed couch... this was the place. The menu options were simple...hamburger with or hamburger without, cheese. That's it. When served, on an unassuming piece of wax paper, the meat overflowed the 6 inch bun by at least two inches. Easily dinner for two, this one pound monster had what it takes to fend of any hunger pains for at least a fortnight. Lathered up with all the goodies like pickles, onions, mustard, tomatoes and mayo, making it into one's mouth was a challenge. Having accepted this gastronomic challenge, we dove in and enjoyed this king of the burgers. And what a burger it was. One would think that such a culinary delight would be of such a cost that you might have to forgo your next pedicure but alas...the paltry sum of $3.00 was the asking price. Talk about living the dream, this is my latest, newest, most favorite place.

Our next adventure took us to the weekend flea market. Throngs of winter Texans filled the aisles. From hubcaps to sunglasses (some quite fancy); t-shirts to carpets, a cornucopia of all things interesting. The market runs three days a week throughout the winter. I checked out some vendors who make custom window coverings for RV's. Got some ideas and prices so now I have to figure out if I really want them.

So a day or two has passed and our tour guides, Mo and Di , have again widen our horizons. Life is good.

Lose some...win some

While in San Marcos we decided that we might break up the trip to Alamo by stopping off at the resort we had already booked for two weeks after the one week Alamo stay. It wasn't quite on the way but close enough. We chose this resort for a couple of reasons...One, they had room and second, it was sort of near the coast but cheaper than coastal RV parks. Since we had booked for two weeks we thought it would be nice to check out the surrounding areas to find out what fun things there were to do.

We arrived in the area in mid-afternoon and our Garmin GPS indicated we were in the right area but where's the resort? we asked ourselves. We knew ahead of time it was a new place and the people said some of it was still under construction but when we pulled into the 'resort' (tucked behind a RV trailer sales lot) it sort of looked like a freshly plowed field in the Texas outback. The 80 site park was void of occupants with the exception of the owner and his wife and kids (one who paroled the grounds with his newly gifted BB gun) and somebody who worked for the owner. We should have got a clue when we called before arriving and were told "if we're not here just pick any site you want". Since most parks this far south are usually booked for the winter, her comment somehow didn't register.

'Making the best of it' is our new motto; so with a little hesitation we picked a spot and pulled in. No sooner than I turned off the engine then a big pickup (remember we're in Texas) pulled up and the owner jumped out to greet us. He said 'aren't you the folks who have a couple of weeks booked with us later in the month?' and Sharon (bless her heart) without missing a beat, came up with a story about how we had a change in plans and we were so sorry but we couldn't make it and this would be our only night staying here. Now I know the par 3 golf course wasn't completed, or the fishing pond, or the paved roads, or the internet service ... and (did I forget to mention the reason why he handed us two gallon jugs of water) because there wasn't any usable water, or there wasn't a restaurant or anything located within ten miles of this place so why wouldn't we want to stay here for two weeks? Oh well, Sharon did tell a little white lie but we did have a good nights rest and we headed out for our next stop, Alamo.

Miles and miles of empty range with an occasional cow grazing (on something that we normally have Chemlawn take care of) or an overhead, circling vulture looking for anything not moving, kept us entertained for the next two hours.



Arriving in the Alamo area we began talking with Sharon's uncle Mo to get better direction to our next destination. Over yonder in Michigan 'Mo' used to be known as Maurice but once in Texas people have a tendency to get right to the point and not clog up their lives with long words. So with that, other changes have been creeping into our vocabulary... like the unexplainable use of yup, yall, and howdy ... so 'Mo' seems to work.

Moving on ... we arrived at our destination and were greeted at the gate by uncle Mo and aunt Dianna (we're not sure if it's Di or Dianna yet). Driving a highly modified golf cart (with extra gauges and special hubcaps) they thankfully knew the lay of the land and escorted us to the front desk. They had arranged to relocate us to a site closer to theirs. This was really good as I don't think I could have squeezed the coach in between the trees on the original site. A quick look around the park plus the drive into the area, convinced us that one week was not enough so we asked to extend to an entire month. Though we may have to move to another site, we'll have plenty to see and do here.

Once we got settled, Mo, Di, Shar, and Ph (pronounced Ph) headed out for barbecue. Ended up at a place called Rudy's and had a scrumptious dinner of brisket, pork loin, sausage, and chicken. All is good and wonderful... bellies full, campfires are lit, coyotes are howling, and the sewer hose isn't leaking. We again are... 'livin the dream'