A small blip in our same old, same old was collecting the mail, always a welcome diversion.

Just received a book from a friend and former work associate of John’s. It is a book of short interconnecting stories, the main theme being “perspective” but family and small town living followed in close pursuit. After our whirlwind former week’s events, a good read from an actual printed-on-paper book, grasped firmly in hand, with real tangible pages to turn, is a rare treat. With so little space, most of our reading material is either on, or scanned onto, the computer.

I pause on the subject of perception as it differs between the two humans living in the box on wheels. Throughout the last two years of our journey, we have had little contact with family or friends. If we workamped near family, we were so busy with our duties, we didn’t visit as often as if we had vacationed nearby for a week and simply spent the time relaxing together. John thinking we had visited many relatives while my thoughts leaned towards not enough time spent visiting.  Our living responsibilities, which includes care of our furry family member, grocery shopping, laundry, continual motorhome repairs, car repairs, workamping duties, the same things that happen in everyone’s lives, interrupted social time. Constantly existing, that nagging cue stubbornly wedged in my brain, is that this is our way of life, never a relaxing vacation.

Although John enjoys living like a hermit, I enjoy life as part of a social group, something instilled deep into my being since childhood. Forcing a social gathering onto folks that have chosen living “hermit style” is not comfortable for them or me so camp host meet-ups are rare. Perception is directly related to ones own nature. I am certain that we will end the “continual movement” stage of our retirement days and settle somewhere. The “where” or “when” is still to be determined.

Robin Williams died today. My all-time favorite comedian and movie star. Sad that someone so vibrant and talented was so troubled…I cried.

Last night Oregon showed us a bit of its temper. Inside a 10 minute period, hardly time enough to store light fly-away things lying around the outside of LilyPad, a storm blew through. Strong winds blew limbs, pine-cones and debris, smacking them up against the side of our motorhome. The top of our motorhome garage was bombarded with huge splats of rain sounding like a baseball hitter practicing. Fire starting thunder lit up the sky, our temperature plummeted from 100 to 70 and the power went off. Somewhat daunting but with immediate action being needed, not enough time to fret. Dashed around securing our things, unplugged cords and started the generator, checked on the conditions of the campground and made sure our group was safe. They took it in stride, gathering under the pavilion with flashlights, socializing and enjoying the cool evening. A multitude of large and small old dead branches fell. Clean up is going to be a female dog.

John checked our fluids in Ribbit and found an unexpected “it’s always something” surprise. He thought it was debris from the storm until he removed the green moss and found nibbled wires. Our upcoming road trip with daughter Liz to visit family would have suffered greatly had it not been found. My hero handyman fixed it and we are good to go.

The lack of fine dining in the area has encouraged us to explore hole-in-the-wall diners. One such place is The Narrows Tavern. More of a bar that serves food than a restaurant. John looked it up on our favorite food review sites and talked me into stopping for a menu. Sitting on the ground near the front door with his back holding up the side of the building, was a young fellow with a handmade cigarette, smoke floating lazily out his mouth, smiling ear to ear while continually making an effort to stay sitting upright. He looked at Ribbit and threw his head back laughing, his mouth stretched open wide. By the time John exited the bar with the menu, he was joyously singing “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” and energetically waving both his arms in a cheerful good-by.

Picked up  Liz at the quaintly petite Eugene airport passing hay fields, their wares boxed  and stacked in the fields like gigantic straw walls erratically placed in the distance awaiting delivery to local farms.  Must be this years fashion is square, as last years hay bales were rolled.

We dined at Cornucopia, an eclectic little diner that specializes in gluten free and locally grown choices with an enormous array of microbrewery offerings. Our overnight was spent at our go-to, first year water damage repair living quarters, La Quinta Inn. After dinner, our just rewards was a bucket list cross off for Liz. The VooDoo Doughnut “Old Dirty Bastard”. Glazed doughnut topped with chocolate, dipped in crushed Oreos and drizzled with peanut butter. Splitting three ways didn’t eliminate the knots in our tummies or the sugar toothaches.

Drove around the downtown area site-seeing before we each stretched out in our own queen pillow top bed heaven for the rest of the night.

Early rise for the five hour drive to my dad’s home in Brookings.  Showing off our favorite haunts, Coos Bay for Market Day delights with some foot stompin’ banjo music was first on our coastal tour.

Next, a stop at our favorite cranberry sweets store in Bandon after passing several Ocean Spray cranberry bogs and a repeat stop at Misty Meadows outside Bandon for locally grown and packed berry butter/jam/jelly so Liz can give a bit of Oregon as souvenirs.

Lunch at the Fish Market Cafe, a smidgen of exercise walking through the Bandon Farmers Market but completely erased the positive by having samples of smoked salmon cheese cake and gluten free coconut fudge. Music, fresh sea air and back in the car for the next leg of our Oregon coastal tour.  The view along the coast is amazing no matter how many times we make the drive.

Arrived at Dad’s and spent a relaxing night with family, one more trip next morning to the mountain hideaway Brandy Peak Distillery for tastings and stashing more yummy Blackberry Liqueur in the car followed by a long walk until sunset on my favorite Brookings beach, Harris State Beach.

Next morning, hugs and farewells before the long trek home to Lone Pine for our overnight.  Lumber mills, Oregon’s main industry, are casually scattered along the water inlets.

This being fishing season, one tiny vintage fishing village had an enticing Kodak Moment prepared for a mother/daughter photo, along with a convenient parking space.

As we neared the home stretch, Roseburg area having 32 wineries, we happened upon Girardet Winery, one we had not yet visited.  Nothing special in the tastings but their fields were full of picture perfect plump dark purple grapes.

Arrived at LilyPad in time to show off Lone Pine Campground to Liz, its slightly cool evening serenity with Rock Creek gently flowing past mossy giant trees bending over the flow and shading the pathways.  Our little slice of heaven.