I hate to be redundant, but I am, on the daily. It's often a question I ask others: "Have I told you this before?" Yes, the B-B's are falling out, because I have a whole lot of them and there's not enough space in there. Rather to have lots than not enough. Why not suck the marrow out of life? God's world is vast and there's lots more people to know before we dip out. Sometimes I feel like I'm rushing to not miss anything. That's probably not the best... might need to slow down and go camping.
The subject of camping seems to come up a lot with me, even though there was a massive gap without doing it between being a kid and an adult. But then there's the two years we camped on our land with four kids while we (literally) built our house. I want credit. We laid every block and 2x4 in that house, with help from friends and family. Two years of "home construction skills" added to our kids' homeschool arsenal. Who was I kidding? Math meant measuring wood and counting nails. English was, well, talking. I figured I was warping our children and that could be, but they turned out pretty awesome considering their warped parents.
That camper was well-worn when we bought it. The refrigerator didn't work, so we used it for my and 5-year-old Elizabeth's closet. The heating system didn't work, so we wore out a dozen space heaters instead. Ken and his Dad built a shelter over the camper and put a porch in the mix. I bought an old fridge for $25 at a yard sale, so we became true rednecks and had a refrigerator on the porch. I hammered big nails in the 2x4s and we hung everybody's overalls and had their boots underneath. We wore those all week and I washed and dried them early Friday mornings at the laundromat. In the winter, we wrapped plastic around the whole business, to help keep the warmth in. It was insane, but I still talk about it like it was yesterday. I really should stop. It has been a very long time ago. We sold that monstrosity of a camper to some guy who had six kids (it only had two twin beds and a couch sofa). I was only 36 when we had moved into that thing. 36. That is a baby. But we already had our four babies (ages 12, 10, 8 and 5) and I thought I knew what life was. The mountains and the valleys were coming, though God got us through them.
Years of life, then the boys' marriages, then a move to Villa Rica, then the grandbaby fest started, then eventually the baby girl married (their own babyfest starting when they came home from their honeymoon pregnant). Now we measure our days like a snowstorm, flurries of things to do and family and church and friends to see, ridiculous time spent in doctors' offices trying to keep ahead of our own creaky bodies.
I bought an old camper in 2020, when the world was falling apart. It was ugly, brown and dated. With some paint and imagination, I painted it inside and out (did you know you can transform the outside of a camper with Kilz and Behr products, no problem?) I figured why not live, so I turned it into a retro Barbie camper. I hate Barbies (please don't lynch me) but love the colors and painted it turquoise, coral and cream. Had a new label printed for the outside, some fresh floor love from our sons, and installed stainless steel tiles on the backsplash of the kitchen area and made cute curtains for the windows. It looked like a 50s diner. Then we actually camped in it. With a full-size bed crammed against the corner, Ken and I had a hard time navigating these Viking bodies around, especially at night when it came time to visit the loo. After a few camping events, with Ken feeling like he was suffocating, he mentioned how nice it would be to have a bigger camper. The operative theme here is that he wanted another one. I couldn't believe my ears.
Facebook marketplace has changed all of our lives, for the better (well, except for those murders, there is that). With the fancy upgrades to our camper and an FB ad, I woke up to three different people circling our city block, vying for their chance to buy the thing. I sold it for over twice what I bought it for, and started hunting another one.
After some hapless wandering, our son Jon and I drove to Lawrenceville, me with a bucket of cash and my gun strapped to my hip, to see another used camper. This one was much bigger, had room for actual Viking people and even a slideout, all for only a bit more than what I had sold the last one for. I became a little concerned when the guy had an electric cash counter to count the money. He obviously was accustomed to such things. But any fool who would mess with Jon Norton, or any of my men, might be losing his marbles.
We drove the thing home and have spent entirely too much money outfitting it between road trips. Just so you know, I'm done with Barbie projects for now. Ken's next project is to rip out the couch and put in recliners. Both my MawMaw and my Daddy died happy and content in their recliners. I don't plan on sitting there. I'll take the booth, thank you very much....
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