It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

That’s my new term for ”mani-pedi” appointments.

As we round up the cattle and head for home, a stop to ”Piane’s” in St. George and subsequent spa day was required. It was the perfect ending to eleven days on the road! My fingers and toes are beautiful and I’m ready to return to my humble abode.

Anyone interested in learning the fine art of RV cleaning is invited to join me Monday morning. Since my nails look good, I won’t be able to do much with cleaning agents, but I can give directions!

Tally Ho!

When visiting national parks it’s quite handy to have a senior citizen with you who has a lifetime pass.

We have visited five parks and were feeling quite proud of not having to pay entry fees amounting to $175. However, with an RV, one is required to purchase a ”tunnel” pass for $15 in Zion. Why? Because you hand the ranger your pass as you approach (she or he will stop you and ask for it) and they close the tunnel just for you! You and your larger-than-when-the-tunnel-was-built rig can drive safely through the middle of the two lanes and hold up traffic on the other end. While you may feel a little special, you also know the other vehicles are cursing the fact that they missed getting through before you arrived on the other end.

All in a day’s fun when you’re lumbering along. By the way, I’m enjoying reading your comments, loyal readers, anonymous as you may be. Keep exploring!

As I wrote yesterday morning the Keurig was brewing my coffee, the heat – provided by the generator – had kept the desert chill at bay, and I had internet via the mobile hotspot tethering I did with TMobile’s plan and my husband’s phone. Am I really ”camping?”

Technically, we were ”dry camping.” We had no provided electricity and water, were in a national forest with access provided by our tax dollars, but we were not in a tent freezing our tushes off as we slept on the ground, kindling sticks together to cook a meal.

I remember wanting to camp as a child and my mother commenting, ”Why would I want to cook and clean outside?” Good call, Mom.

On our way to Utah we ran into a large canyon, rather grand I would say. On my previous trip here with my daughter, we had visited a friend employed by the National Park Service and we hiked the rim. This time, we unhitched the “horses” and rode the paved bike trails through the park. As a last ditch thought upon my actually paying attention to the map, I assisted my color-blind spouse in noting a trail to Yaki Point.

What a beautiful, unoccupied with guests, rim-laced journey. Although it was another blustery day, we had the most gorgeous bike ride ever. Elk, deer, wild horses, and little reptiles scattered around us, all while viewing God’s magnificence exalted in nature.

Not sure where the day will take us, but we are poised for more grandeur.

We have crossed Route 66 periodically on this trip. Naturally, we stopped in Winslow, Arizona and stood on a corner. 40 years ago I did the same. The photo is somewhere in the archives of my basement storage bins though, so no proof. And really, this photo proves nothing either, other than it’s been windy, windy, windy.

Not many people make it to Cornville, I’m guessing. Obviously, it’s a farming community. The local convenience store supplied our gas and could have done the same for our horse. It was tempting to purchase a bale of hay just because we could. However, a previous hay purchase killed that idea.

In college, an over-ambitious idea, to “decorate the floor of the residence hall for fall,” led to the purchase of hale bales. Unbeknownst to the zealous R.A., mice inhabited the bales and were thus given a holiday in a very comfortable dorm. The ”Marge in Charge” set traps, caught the offender, and was properly bitten by the rascal. The nurse recommended treatment, the R.A. refused, and all lived happily ever after.

I have never purchased another bale of hay. But I could have!

Usually I pack quite lightly when traveling. Case in point: I traversed France, England, Austria, and Germany with a backpack in my youth. I don’t like toting much. However, when we camp in the RV, I have a rolling Clampett-mobile. I think I have five pair of shoes with me! (I say, ”think,” because it’s possible I threw in two extra after I packed and I don’t want to go and count them.)

There’s room, so I use it.

We entertain ourselves quite nicely with silly games, too. ”Guess how many pair of glasses I have in my purse?” was our first game. ”Five,” answered my spouse. ”No, four. It would be five, but one is on my head now.” ”How many little hand-sanitizers do I have in my purse?” ”Three,” answered the commander. ”Two,” I said. ”Wait, let me unzip this little-used compartment. Three,” I corrected. It was nice to know my husband knows me so well.

The only other game was ”bug-our-neighbor-from-the ”Land of Enchantment” and see where we are!” Thanks, ”Parsha.” Next we’ll be bugging our friend from the ”Grand Canyon” state. Just keeping the travel lively!

From one of our Indiana contributors, confirmation in keeping the blog going! It seems I do a bit of reflexive reflecting on reflections. I take to heart the last recommendation. Looking forward to a worthy opponent in my Scrabble play.

Yesterday I rode my bike to ”Pat’s” house to play bridge. I arrived and engaged in the art of negotiation and defense, the joys of the game.

In the middle of play I touched my forehead and found it gritty. I continued to test my skin and concluded that I had a layer of grit all over me. I was right. The nightly news informed me that sand from the Gobi Desert is crossing our state, blown along with the smoke from fires in New Mexico and Russia, skewing our mountain view and clogging the air with particulates.

Free microdermabrasion ala Mother Nature! I may have to go for another spa ride today.

And from the annals of the APB, this gem which did make me sing.