So, we took off Saturday morning in the ironically named "Sunseeker"...

Heh. The post's title really says it all.

You'd think my affinity for horror movies would have swayed our decisions, but no, we really did just about everything wrong by the "code."

First, we decided our preparations were "good enough."

Then, we took a shortcut. Right after saying "we bought the RV to be adventurous." To this decision I have only three words: Wolf. Creek. Pass.

We assumed the call for tire chains was, oh I'dunno, from yesterday.

Later in the evening, while experiencing a white-out, and with a cell phone teetering dangerously close to zero battery power, we called a random RV park to ask if they had availability. Despite having seen the Jessica Biel "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" more than 3 times, we opted to actually go to that RV park even though the attendant's voice was clearly suspiciously sweet.

I summoned oodles of sympathy for a hitchhiker up ahead, valiantly fighting his way through the storm, when Phil said simply "Rutger Hauer." Thank god for Phil's level head - and for a horror movie that he didn't sleep through.

At mid-morning on Sunday - after surviving our terrible Saturday decisions - we happened into a spectacularly clean rest stop/gas station somewhere in western New Mexico - or perhaps it was Arizona already - it's all a blur at the moment. After a quick visit to a stall, I figured I'd take advantage of running water and soap to wash my hands and face. This is when I noticed there were no mirrors in the restroom. I washed up really fast. Really, really fast. And left.

After surviving potential stuck-in-a-blizzard, stuck-in-a-blizzard-in-a-haunted-forest, stuck-in-a-blizzard-with-an-ax-murderer, stuck-in-a-blizzard-and-thinking-I'm-safe-but-actually-in-the-company-of-an-ax-murderer's-sympathizer, and moving-through-a-blizzard-but-gave-a-ride-to-an-ax-murderer, there's no flippin' way in hell I was gonna become a holiday feast for a hive of vampires.

I'm no dummy.

Okay, here's the not-neurotic Nana's version of what happened.

On the way out of Nederland, our in-dash navigation system suggested we go down the 93 rather than 25, and cut through the mountains as a shorter way to Holbrook, Arizona. I suggested we try this, but then thought about it and said "nah, let's not - there's weather coming in." Phil agreed, but then said "hey, we bought the RV for adventure, so let's go the more scenic route."

Both of us had in mind a timely arrival in Holbrook, setting up the chairs outside of the RV for the evening, and drinking Irish Creme Liquor by a campfire.

Didn't happen.

Surely just about everyone else in Colorado knows that route includes a nearly 11,000 foot mountain pass with 9% hairpin turns on the downside, but we sure didn't. Phil is a hero - and probably the person most in the world I would trust with such conditions. He kept his cool, his fear betrayed only by a death grip on the steering wheel.

Another Application of "Don't Try This at Home."

Going 5 miles an hour across ice will certainly impact your arrival time; thus the call to a random RV park in only-god-knows-where New Mexico. The woman who ran the park was really very sweet - genuinely very sweet, even though she was eerily reminiscent of "the Tea Lady" in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and she had very nice grandchildren (who, thankfully, never mentioned He Who Walks Behind the Corn).

I have to admit my experience at the rest stop the following day is 100% true. No mirrors in the bathroom, quick exit. Think about it - a horror movie in which our intrepid adventurers escape every un-supernatural danger in their paths only to be massacred by vampires in the end. It could happen.

In the end, we arrived at Destination: Owen about an hour after his bedtime, ate some spectacular Chinese food made by Courtney and Adam, downed a glass of wine like a heroin fix, and passed out.

More to follow.

Don't Try This at Home.

This morning I snuggled really close-in to Hagrid and whispered sweetly in his ear:

"Do you want to go see Courtney?"

The answer, of course, was an emphatic YES; and a Hagrid emphatic YES always includes a swing of the paw.

For some reason this makes me think of the old ketchup jingle/Carly Simon song...
Anticipation.... Anticipa-a-tion... is making me wait. 

We're nearly packed up, just clothes and yarn and knitting/crochet needles to go, and then we're off on our first great RV adventure.

We've ordered up WiFi in the campground for tonight (actually, I believe it's Kampground), so I'll be sure to take some photos and make a post over macaroni and cheese.

Until then...

The Happy Kamper.

An (Over)Abundance of Caution

...is just what the insurer ordered.

While last night's snow didn't exactly create a winter wonderland, it did create slick roadways as evidenced by the little Nissan Versa in front of me. Poor li'l fella was having a heckuva time.

Our last snow, which graced us on the day we went to check out RVs, relieved my Subaru Outback of its front end. Well, the mountain into which my Outback slid technically did the relieving, but the end result was a fat check from our wonderful insurance company.

Bet you never thought you'd see those words put in that order in a sentence, did'ja?

Let me make it clear that this is no reflection on Subaru Outbacks. They really are everything they're supposed to be under lousy roads conditions. The issue was the new tires I got from (yup, gonna name 'em) Big O on 30th and Valmont in Boulder. After only 7,000 miles they'd lost their useful tread. The insurance adjuster suggested that perhaps the tires they installed weren't as new as they lead me to believe.

This is the second non-Ford I've owned that found itself nose-less through no fault of its own, so I figured that's the nether's way of telling me I really am a Ford person. So off to the Ford dealer we went and got a car that's two years older with 70,000 more miles on it than my Subi had. I guess it's not technically a car, it's more like a tank with a sweet leather interior, heated bucket seats, and an entertainment center.

Fuel economy be damned, I've finally got my Explorer. An Eddie Bauer, at that. Getting back into a Ford felt like going home. Just everything about the way it drives, the feel of the steering wheel, and even the solid sound of the turn indicator is like making a left at the top of Bedford Road in Pocantico Hills. Ah, home.

One thing I'm still a bit envious of in my daughter's Explorer is her horn. Yeah, mine has a wonderfully blaring, distinctly American sound, but the horn in Courtney's Explorer will knock you out of your shoes. It's the kind of horn that makes you want to get stuck behind someone who is still dialing their phone when the light turns green.

Aaanyway, this morning was my first venture down Canyon in icy conditions. 4x4 on, kept it in 3rd, and moved at a pace slightly better than a crawl. The only issue I had was that upon reaching the Sugarloaf intersection I thought "holy crap, I'm only at Sugarloaf?" Yes, yes, but I'm at Sugarloaf intact.

I was going to add a photo of my new baby tank, but the camera in my phone rots. Instead I'm going add the first clear photo I could find on the card.

Yeah, we tried to shame our cat. But in addition to having no sense of humor, she has no shame, either. The end score was LittleKitty 1, iPad screen 0. WreckCenter games won a bill for 200 bucks.

T-minus 4 full (work) days.

Rubber-based rugs...check.
Melamine plates and plastic cups...check.
Christmas presents for Owen, Courtney, Adam, and Owen...check.

Phil has an inventory of which toys Hermione can't live without.

Throw it all, the dogs and cats into the RV, head down Canyon to 28th Street/ US 36, to I 25, to I 40, west until stuff starts looking all California-ish and sorta coastal.

What could go wrong?

A Deadly Srius Question for Someone Smrtr than Me.

How old do you have to be before you consistently remember that adding flour to a running mixer is a bad idea?

Wait... it's December?

How'd Courtney put it? "Ooops... how time flies" or something like that?

Please know that I haven't neglected everything since my last post - things got vacuumed, dusted, vacuumed again. And again and again. Iron stains have been removed from the toilets and shower. The dogs have been walked, brushed, and walked again. And again and again.

Fall finally came to Colorado, and for once it didn't give way immediately to Winter. It's been unseasonably warm and dry, extending the fire season by a few months. Or maybe we're in next year's fire season already. Either way, this morning brought sweet, sweet flurries to our little mountain town; so far just a dusting, but every little bit is welcome.

How beautiful is this? Oscar and Cara sharing some yummies in their stable while nature decorates the rest of their corral. It's wonderful having horses next door. I get the joy of watching them frolic and play without the expense of horse ownership.

Especially fun is the first warm day after a real snow storm. Oscar, the white one, likes nothing more than to roll around in the mud. He prances around so proud of himself, "look... a horse can change his spots!! Well, at least he can paint some on himself with a nice mud puddle."

So, we're seven days out from embarking on our first big trip in the new RV. I have no doubt we'll be desperately unprepared. My priority before taking off was to get rubber-based throw rugs to enable Hagrid's movement from one end of the RV to the other while in transit. We'll see how that works out. The dogs love a stationary RV. Who wouldn't? There's an easy access bed and windows everywhere! Once in motion, however, an RV is nothing more than an enclosed, rumbling terror. And the only way to overcome that terror is to sit in Dad's lap. Even if Dad is driving. 

The best part of our upcoming trip is the destination: Owen. Owen is all baby now. Here he is doing his best Bob Wilson impression:

And here he is being his Daddy's little man:

I really need to scoop him up and kiss him silly. And I'm pretty sure he's been a good boy, so Santa will be bringing him wonderful presents. Although we're hoping Owen's opinion of Christmas festivities improves over this:

It may be, however, that seeing Mommy kissing Santa Claus was a bit overwhelming. Being a part of the festivities seems to suit Owen better:

Well, I'm off to make some batter bread. Get the house stinkin' good for the weekend. 

By the way, whatever you do, never, ever watch a show on Animal Planet called "Too Cute". There's even a disclaimer at the start of the show urging viewer discretion because the subject matter is, after all, too cute. Puppies. An hour of puppies. I think I need to find a Labradoodle puppy. Ugh. Too cute. And baby sled dogs. We need a baby sled dog. Oh wait... I already have a baby sled dog. It turns out Hermione is a Siberian Husky/Lab/Collie. We did a DNA test because she was looking less and less Lab as she got older. And despite her size, she's more 'dog' than we've ever had. Anyway, this show is turning me to butter. Quick, someone remind me that I don't need three dogs!

Batter bread. Gotta make the bread.