Boomer Perspective

In my day-to-day life, I don’t interact with too many Millennials. It’s not that I don’t like Millenials. Of course, I do. Some of my favorite humans are Millennials. But for the last several years I’ve lived in a community full of Baby Boomers. We Baby Boomers like to think the world always has — and always will— revolve around us.

Imagine my shock when I’m reminded it doesn’t.

Reminder Number 1: Your old work stories are boring. …

A lesson learned

One of my teenage jobs was as a clerk and cashier at W.T.Grants in Toledo, Ohio. Grants was an early version of a Walmart, lots of stuff, most of it cheap crap from China.

It was the early 70s.

I was 18 and working with a crew of much older women. They actually hired me to do grunt work. I spent my shifts being called Sweetie and Honey while lugging heavy boxes from the stock room to wherever they wanted them.

If I wasn’t lugging boxes, I was catching escaped parakeets. Those little suckers have a sharp beak. Their bite…

Coastal Maine

The phrase Giant Trolls does not show up in my conversation very often — that is until a recent visit to Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. Now I can’t stop talking about them!

The Giant Trolls are part of an exhibit titled Guardians of the Seeds by Danish artist and recycle activist Thomas Dambo. Dambo is the creative genius behind the Giant Trolls. According to info on the trolls page of the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens website:

He was one of those kids that scavenged the neighborhoods for discarded wood for his projects and carted it home on his bicycle.

Hubs and I recently had our first Harvest Host experience. Harvest Host is a collection of breweries, wineries, distilleries, and farms joined together to welcome campers overnight.

Campers are known to appreciate beer, wine, spirits, and grub. What could be better? And since we have recently returned to camping in our Wonder LTV, Leisure Travel Van, also known as our Mini Rig, we decided to try it out.

Our first Harvest Host was a brewery in Labadie, Missouri. It’s called Point Labaddie Brewery and is a family-run business. The primary brewmaster is Rob Grimm.

We arrived unsure what to expect…

We’re back!

After four years, we’re finally back on the road. We’re traveling across the country, literally from California to Maine, in our new-to-us Mini Rig. We haven't officially named it yet, so for now we’re going with the Mini Rig. The name fits since it’s definitely mini. It’s 25 feet of coziness.

The Mini Rig is a 2019 Leisure Travel Van, LTV for short. The model is a Wonder, as in we wonder if we’re ready for this level of togetherness. We’re not too worried after 4+ decades of togetherness, we're good.

Our plan with the Mini Rig is…

Fuzzy Butt Love

Recently I found myself standing outside in 100+ degree heat with a woman excited to talk about her Teddy Bear. I also have a teddy bear, but to be honest, the urge to talk about Ted hasn’t hit me in a number of decades.

The conversation started when I walked up to my designated standing circle which was six feet from her designated sitting circle just as she was finishing an animated phone call. She must have assumed I was eavesdropping and felt the need to explain.

She started right in.

Teddy Bear is her pride and joy. His fur…

This Happened to Me

I’ve never been a fan of bathing suits, at least not if I have to wear one.

Of course, no one can make you wear a bathing suit, but there are situations where not wearing one draws more attention than stuffing your keester into one and pretending to like it.

Every year I tell myself it’s the year to get over it. What the heck? I’m in my sixth decade of swimsuit season; you’d think I’d have let go of swimsuit angst by now.

Since I now live in the desert of Southern California, swimsuit season is a tad longer…

Thank you for your service

My Dad had some ugly legs, at least that’s what I thought as a kid. His calves were misshapen and definitely didn’t match. Multiple large oval-shaped scars stretched across deformed sections of what used to be below his knee. Both of his calves were scary.

As one of the older kids in the family, and the most observant, I was the first to ask Dad what happened to his legs. I was probably about five years old. Out of nowhere my Mom swept in and said “We don’t talk about your Dad’s legs.”

At the time I remember accepting that…