Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Betty The Best, by Kimberly Valzania

This Description of Vintage Camper Heaven is No Joke.

Via Kimberly Valzania
on May 29, 2017

A vintage camper is my own private Idaho.


What is it about a vintage camper that gets me all hot and bothered? Do I want to run away? Do I pine to live the life of a vagabond, a nomad, exploring the many secret (and not so secret) pit stops and places that this great, wide, open, and wondrous country has to offer me?
Yes, that must be it.
I imagine myself relaxing inside, (or outside, or on top), reading a book by myself in the middle of Red Rock, Sedona, or Bluegrass, Kentucky, or Big Sky, Montana, while a tea kettle begins to whistle on my little mini stove, and the wind chimes (the ones I bought when I went to see the Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico), gently lull my senses.
Is that too much to ask?
I am seduced by these thoughts. These thoughts of vintage campers and wanderlust. They have become a bit of an obsession. Is it possible for you to understand my yearning? And if it isn’t possible, can you at least indulge me for a bit?
I love traveling. Let me rephrase that: I love traveling inexpensively.  A camper provides a way to do it! No hotels. I could easily don a pair of shorts, and live this way for three straight summer months every year.
What’s not to love about that?
There is something to be said for all the activity surrounding the “set up” of a camper as well. Unrolling the canopy, putting out the lawn chairs, building a little campfire. I’m the type of cutesy person who would insist on a darling welcome mat for the doorstep. And I would more than likely pin up little solar lights for simple, twinkling, evenings of enchantment. I would heat up some chicken noodle soup to have in a mug with crackers on the side, after my rugged hike and quick dip in a pristine lake on a glorious day—a day without  worries.
That sounds exactly like what I want.
Also, the thought of campers and wandering sure beats the heck out of scrolling and trolling through my Facebook news feed.
I guess it’s the sort of retirement I dream about. A benign 55+ “community” (shudder) where a perky activities director tries like hell to get me all worked up about going to bingo once a week? Sorry, but no, thanks. I don’t want to go to “mixers”  where they play music from my generation. Honestly, what would that be like? A bunch of gray-haired people, post knee-replacement, dancing around to Jay-Z, Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Pearl Jam? (Cue the second shudder).
I don’t want another house. I want a camper. Seriously. I want my own private Idaho. 
Did you know that the word “Idaho” derives from the Shoshone language and means, “the sun comes from the mountains”? I didn’t either, but I love it.
I want to check things out firsthand, go to flea markets, and eat in greasy spoon diners (sometimes). It would be appealing to visit friends around the country, take in a few flea markets, or enjoy our nation’s parks, recreation, and landmarks. I want to camp by the ocean and walk to a coffee shop. I want to sleep in a cramped, but comfortable corner inside four sturdy walls with just a light, six-point Hudson’s Bay blanket to keep me warm, a cool breeze gently lifting the sheer curtains through an open window.
At night, I want to stare at the moon and swim. In the morning, I want to rise with the sun and listen to Earth wake up. I want to wash my damn clothes in a creek. No joke. 
I want to live frugally and respectfully and meaningfully and adventurously. For at least three months a year.

And any vintage camper will do, because I simply love them all.

How about this bright yellow 1964 Thunderbird?
I could live in it, cultivate my succulents, and read novels.
Maybe I could wear bright, busty, apron dresses with retro cherry clusters or birds on them while eating sliced and salted avocados and buffalo mozzarella on a French baguette for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Perhaps I would enjoy a few chilled Moscow Mules right around happy hour. For three whole months I could run in the canyons, float in the surf, and ride my bike through the Redwood Forest.
And my trailer would be tricked-out like a complete bad-ass.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
In my dream, her name is Betty. Betty The Best. 
~
Author: Kimberly Valzania

Sunday, June 11, 2017

A Memory from 2014

Camptown Girls at Big River Campground


Here I am. Hooked up, stocked up....and ready for the trip. I only wish my friend was on time....I had to wait a half hour. The drive was great, a Thursday morning, and little traffic. It took about 1 1/2 hours to reach our destination....Big River Campground.



Here is the campsite, a lovely place in the Ponderosa Pines along the river.



The river, so lovely......is known as the Deschutes River, in Central Oregon.



My picnic table, with floral tablecloth and solar candlestick.



Prairie Flower with the "trimmings", all ready for the weekend.



My friend Connie playing her violin beside the river. I snuck up behind her to get this pic. Her playing is very lovely, and I enjoyed the music very much.

The Big River Campground is very close to Sunriver Resort, and Bend Oregon. 






Happy Trailering...until next time. Have a nice campfire, and roast your favorite treat!!  Sharon

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Waiting for ?

Dear Ready Girl,
One of the worst mistakes we can ever make is to wait and wait and wait for there to be the "right amount" or the "right people" or the "right person" or the "right circumstances" to start living the life that is calling to us. No matter where we are or what we have, there is always a way to get headed in the right direction...and to just begin.
So, dear friend, begin today. Begin with something big or begin with something small, but begin. Begin with one step. And then just take another and another and another and another.
If you are waiting for the perfect time to start, the perfect time is now. If you think the time has passed and it's too late, it is not. Begin today.
We really just have to decide that we are going to make something happen, and somehow we will be able to pull together what we need to do it.
As the old Chinese proverb goes, "The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago -- the second best time is today."
Do what you can with what you have right now, today. Begin.
You are so very very very loved.
xoxo
(...pass it on...)

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Let others own their own words...

Dear Beautiful Soul,

Boy oh boy...relationships can be complicated, can't they? 

If you find yourself being on the other side of behavior that feels mean or vindictive or harsh or defensive or argumentative, try to remember to let others own their actions and their words. 

Sometimes things we do or say are triggers to other's unhealed wounds...wounds that have nothing to do with us but are simply unhealed. And often people will try to punish us for wounds that were there long before we were, just because we may have innocently and unknowingly triggered those old wounds.

So don't get sucked into all of that, and instead just lovingly let others own their own stuff. Make sure you own yours too.

The key to soul freedom is to own your behavior, your reactions and your thoughts....and to let others own theirs. 

It'll bring you more peace...it really will.

This is a daily message from Brave Girls Club.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Imagine Great Succulent Displays



I was out and about today. I stopped by a small rural roadside store, cafe, post office, and vintage junk place. All in one stop, shop. I took these two photos, because I thought that they are nice. Have a great day!