A beginner's guide to weight loss

I've been a collector of stuff, things that were so important to me that they've been hauled across the country and back again, but not so important that I used or looked at them even occasionally. Why did I have to have this baggage, where did this need to accumulate come from? When did the I Want become the I Need? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure, but I had to have this stuff.

I had a huge collection of children's books. I'm talking into four digits, I'm sure, but I never counted. I do know I had an entire wall of IKEA shelves six feet high that was nearly full. It all began with one book, The Boy with a Drum, a Little Golden Book that was so loved by my older son we wore it out and had to buy a second copy.  "There once was a boy with a little toy drum. Rat-a-tat-tat and a rum-a-tum-tum."

We loved that book. It never got old. It has a rhythm to it that's mesmerizing. (Go ahead, read those sentences out loud and tap it out on the table. See?) The replacement copy was purged along with other childhood things as my sons grew up, but somewhere I got the idea that I'd like to have that book again. Listen to me, children, and do as I say, not as I did: don't buy that first book! There was exactly one copy on Amazon when I went looking and I paid $20 for that sucker, I had to have it so bad. Thus I began my descent into madness.

The collection spread like a virus. Later, I wondered why in the heck I'd ever bought some of these books. I know now, just as any recovering addict knows to avoid dangerous places and situations, that it's not safe for me to go to used bookstores or sales at the library or even, God help me, to look in a bookstore window.

At some point I decided to lighten the load. I sold many, many books on Amazon. I took another big chunk to my grandsons because kids, unlike their grandmothers, can never have too many books, and I've kept some. OK, many, but a small fraction of what I started with, including The Boy with a Drum.

When I decided to cruise at 60 I had to decide what to do with all of my stuff, not just the books. There's another pile of boxes to go to the grands. More books went on Amazon, including craft books that were a good idea when I bought them. I weeded out a lot of craft things, but interestingly, this has been the hardest category to purge, I think because I sunk a lot of money into it. Still, a lot is gone. The little girl next door who I taught to knit is the beneficiary of a good amount of yarn. All the furniture and almost all belongings that are not being claimed by my ex-husband are being split up between my sons. What a bonanza for them! We have some nice antiques that came down through the family. Art we collected is going the same way. Christmas ornaments. Pottery. Lamps. Canning equipment. Paint, electrical, and plumbing supplies. A tile saw. Garden tools. Shop tools. Generators. Folding tables. Patio furniture. Clothing.  Jeez, we have a lot of crap. I had a choice to pay to store it somewhere for however long I'm on the road, or to let them have it and enjoy it now. It seemed like a pretty easy choice. The more I parceled out the better it felt. I would never have thought it possible to let go, but these things had turned into an anchor and now they've been cut free.

The fraction of the things I'm holding on to is being foisted on one son who has storage space. I think it's only fair that he stores it all for me because I've ferried his belongings around the country for a long time. In a year I'll look through the boxes again and see what else I can live without. I'm sure I will distribute more and it will feel good all over again to unburden myself. I want to see how simply I can live. It's taken me a long time to realize that it's not the things you own that make you happy. We all need to find our peace and contentment inside ourselves. I'm workin' on it.

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Thought for the day: Even Socrates, who lived a very frugal and simple life, loved to go to the market. When his students asked about this, he replied, "I love to go and see all the things I can live without." Jack Kornfield (After the Ecstasy, the Laundry)

Meet Grace

She needs a bath. You can see past the dirt, right?


First, obviously, the outside. She's 20 feet long and about 8'9" high, which I need to remember for parking garages. I like the extra windows up top. They can close off with a curtain but I like the light.

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The "kitchen." I'm bummed because there isn't an oven, but I don't use the fancy convection oven at the house, so I wonder who I'm trying to kid. I'll wait a year and if I think I have to have one, I'll take her somewhere to have a convection microwave installed. There's a small microwave to the upper left here already. So there's the two-burner stove with a solid cover to close it off when it's not being used, which gives a flat surface. A tiny sink to its left with the cover in place, and under the sink is a fridge the size of a shoebox. The freezer is the size of a matchbox. I won't be using ice cubes.

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At the back of the van is the bed. Grace isn't really listing like this. I swear every picture looks straight when I take it. I put beach towels over the benches to help save them from cat hair. There are panels under the cushions to put in the space between the benches, then the cushions fold origami-like over the panels to make the bed. I haven't done that yet; I've been trying to get used to sleeping on one of the benches. Not working yet.

The hole in the floor is where a pole goes to hold a table top. Haven't done that yet either.

The purple string is the end of a yarn ball. All the money I've spent on toys for the felines and they go for a ball of yarn and an empty box.

To the left in the foreground is the end of the bench that I'm forced to use for storage. The black bag is most of my camera gear and the white bag behind it is my library. I'm restricting myself to that many books or I'll end up like Lucy in The Long, Long Trailer. Thank heaven for e-books.

Since this was taken I've added a small folding table under those two bags, to be used when I'm dry camping and there's no picnic table available. And a folding beach-type umbrella in its carry case. I swear, that's all that's going back there.

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The TV, a little thing but I guess a bigger one would make me blind at the distance I'll be from it. There's a DVD player in the cabinet behind the TV. The TV pivots out to face forward so it can be seen from the captains' chairs up front. Speaking of DVDs, I just bought Monsters, Inc. and Finding Nemo in the 3-D version. I have simple viewing tastes.

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Across the aisle from the sink and fridge is the bathroom, if bathroom can be defined as a toilet. That's the door. Yes, you sit or whatever you do with the door open. There are doors that swing out to the left and right to close the space off completely if you're of a delicate nature. The cats don't care and neither do I so we're good.

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This is the ceiling in front of the bathroom door and that's the track for the shower curtain. You shower in the aisle and when you're done, the curtain goes back into the toilet space. There's a drain in the floor directly below, and everything is neat and tidy. A problem: Grace didn't come with a shower curtain. I went online to find a replacement and the only place to get one is from a Roadtrek dealer. The clips that hold the curtain to the track come in two pieces and are 45 cents each piece. OK, not too bad. The curtain, a shower curtain, plain, one purpose only, not even seen when not being used, is $205. I kid you not. I'm not stupid, there's no way I'm paying that! When I told the woman who took my order for the clips I would pass on the curtain and jury-rig something from Walmart, she warned me it might not work as well. It's a show-er-cur-tain! It does one thing! I think I can figure it out.

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Looking forward. The cats' scratching post in the ridiculous hope they'll leave everything else alone, a couple of storage cupboards, and the part that gets me from here to there. Grace is just old enough that there's no MP3 jack and what a bummer that is. The seats pivot around to face the middle of the van and there's another small table that's on a post like the one in back that goes in front of them.

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Last picture. This seat is wasted space for me so it hold my spin dryer, my yoga mat, and a yoga block. This dryer is described as "mini." Pfffttt. I think not. For as much space as it takes, it had better be worth it. And that's my brand-new Tilley hat hanging above it. I'm in love with my Tilley.

Grace is so small I had to get a little creative with placing things. In my last, bigger, motorhome, the litter box could go in the shower. My shower here is in the aisle and that's obviously not a solution. It sits in the foot-well of the front passenger seat, actually a good, out-of-the-way location, with the only drawback being anyone looking in can see I travel alone.

So that's Grace, named for my mom, a remarkable woman.

I know!

I know it's been forever. Hell broke out in my life, again related to being Suddenly Single at Sixty, and it's taken me a while to find my way out. Winston Churchill said, When you're going through hell, keep going. That's what I've been trying to do, keep going. The second hell took me back to the beginning of the pain and the fear, and let's mention anger and an overwhelming feeling of betrayal, and I've had to make up lost ground.

It's a little better. I have the best friends in the world, better than I could have ever hoped to have, and they have carried me through when I've been incapable of moving, let alone thought. So thank you, all of you, and you know who you are. I can't ever hope to repay you for your love and support.

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A few weekends ago I took my van, who I'll introduce you to a while later, to the Oregon coast for a couple of nights. One of them was spent at Fort Stevens State Park, near Astoria. While I was there I talked to a campground host about volunteering. Campground hosts greet visitors, get them signed in for camp sites, answer questions, do light maintenance, deliver firewood, light duty like that. In exchange, they receive a free site with full hookups for water, electric, and sewer. It can save the hosts a minimum of $20 a night at state parks. The more popular parks charge more. There may be a minimum length of duty, like a month, but in many cases the host can stay for the season. This is a good deal if you really like the area you're volunteering in, and you're not just assigned, you choose the campground you want. Some have more competition from volunteers than others, as you can imagine.

I'd known about this kind of volunteering for some time but it hadn't yet trickled back into my brain since I decided to cruise at 60, and talking to this volunteer got me thinking. One of these good friends I mentioned above told me she met volunteers doing work like this at Glacier National Park and thought I might be interested in one of these short-term jobs. When I got back to the house I started searching the volunteer.gov website, just looking for what was available. It's late in the season for the hotspots like Yosemite, Yellowstone, Point Reyes, or Glacier, but there are still lots of slots for other places.

So here is what is amazing, and proof positive that God does shine his light down on me, or that a net will appear if you just take the leap. Petrified Forest National Park advertised for a librarian to organize and catalog their collection, minimum commitment of two months. I have a masters degree in library science and worked several years as an archivist, which turned out handy because they have work in that area too. And maybe in the museum, working with the collections manager. I am thrilled. So excited. Pleased as punch. I start at the beginning of May and am their woman until the end of September.

I admit to being nervous about heading out to parts unknown with no agenda, just following the lines on the map. I know it's the dream of a lot of people to be able to do exactly that, but I've never done it before on my own and I was scared. It was way more than being nervous. But here is a compromise, a transition that will give me a purpose to my days for several months. I couldn't be more pleased, plus I still get the free RV site with full hookups. What a deal.

Success! Success!

I'm doing the happy dance! The check was in the PO box this morning and I hied myself over to the bank before it turned into rubber.

Did you know Bank of America charges $6 to cash a BofA business check if you don't have an account yourself? I must have been a cave dweller for a long time because the teller said its it's been their policy, oh for years! I've never heard of this nonsense before. And it's only for business checks because of the "risk." Apparently personal checks have no risk because you can cash those for free.

Nevertheless, proud I am.

A dog with a bone

First, there was no check in the P.O. box yesterday and being unwilling to let anything go, but I'm working on that problem, really I am, I called. A couple of days ago I sent an email to this dealership telling the manager who'd promised me the check that if  I didn't get it by Friday, today, I had my finger poised over the speed dial buttons for King County Police, the BBB, and Angie's List. Almost immediately I got a call from the promiser that the check was being sent out toot sweet. I know that's not how it's spelled. He didn't mention the email so the call may have been prompted by a few phone messages I left.

Next I got an email from someone at the dealership I hadn't heard from before, asking me to call him. All it said was, "This is Daniel. Call me." When the check wasn't in the mailbox this is the call I made and had to tell this person who I was and what the problem was. Now think about this. A customer emails and threatens wrath on your business if it doesn't follow through on promises, and you don't even have her name in the back of your mind? Well, I don't think I need to say it but I will anyway, you might want to consider this the canary in the coal mine about how this place does business, and while we're at it, does no one teach people anything about email etiquette? I had to ask Daniel who he was in the hierarchy.

It turns out it was just a silly misunderstanding on my part. Twelve years of Catholic education and having read thousands of books over the years, and I didn't understand the meaning of tomorrow. When they said I would have the check "tomorrow" they didn't mean tomorrow tomorrow. They meant tomorrow as in when it gets here.

There's a lesson here, at least for me. I've said previously that I was taught not to question anything, which went hand in hand with being nice and not making a scene. This has been a very difficult habit to break. My usual response has been either to be a doormat or to go to the other extreme and way overreact. Assertion for some people comes naturally, I think, but it's a quality I'm just developing and am pleased with my actions on this mess. At first I kind of wrung my hands and was at a loss as to what to do, feeling powerless and weak. With the encouragement of a friend who learned this skill the hard way and long ago, I realized I couldn't just let this go and be left feeling like a sucker. Whether or not the alleged check comes, and it damn well better come, I've taken another step forward. It's a good thing.

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Thought for the day: The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life and the procedure, the process, is its own reward. (Amelia Earhart)

Bad news, good news, it more or less evens out

There isn't much to report on Part Dos of the battle to get my refund.

The bad news is I still haven't gotten the refund check.
     The good news is the creative fiction, and I love a good story, told to explain it. When was the last time anyone forgot to put a stamp on an envelope?

The bad news is I still haven't gotten the refund check.
     The good news is it's supposed to be here via Priority Mail today.

The bad news is I can't hold my breath all that long. 
     The good news is... Well, I don't have any good news to counter that one.

The bad news is I spent an uncomfortable amount of money yesterday.
     The good news is I got some cool gear for the RV: a low tech washing machine, a higher tech dryer, an average tech slow cooker, a talking tire gauge, and an anti-suicide power-checker thing.

See how things even out? A talking tire gauge is almost good enough to wipe out the missing refund.

I just learned about the power line monitor. Who knew that I could fry myself if I plugged in the RV's power supply to an incorrectly wired outlet? I suppose I'll learn about all of this as time goes by, but something like that would flatten the learning curve in a flash. Ha ha. Pun intended. Andy Baird is a full-timer who's generous with all kinds of RVing information and I read about this problem there, as well some of the gear that's shipping as we speak.

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Thought for the day: Ordinary riches can be stolen from you, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you. (Oscar Wilde)

That nice man? The one I gave $300 to?

Let's just start this way: I went to Catholic school in the 60s and early 70s. For 12 years. For the uninitiated, that pretty much meant you did what you were told and questioned nothing. Maybe your Catholic school wasn't like that but mine was and I can produce witnesses to back me up.

I found a used Class B motorhome on Craigslist, for sale by owner. This is the one I talked about in the last post. The seller asked me to meet him at a storage facility so I thought it was safe to assume the thing was stored there. It wasn't; he drove up in it. First red flag and as far as I'm concerned this deal was a scam from the word go:

• I still don't know his real name. 
• No clear Washington title, where the vehicle resides; the last title transfer was eight months ago in Florida.
• Not for sale by owner but on consignment at a dealership.
• Not bought from a friend but at auction in Florida.
• Driven 20000 miles in eight months with no service recorded.
• Telling me I was obligated to complete the deal...... just because.
• Telling me I had to complete the deal because it was already at Evergreen RV for my requested inspection when the appointment was actually two days later.
• and much, much, more.

With the help of the great folks at Evergreen, the owner of the dealership he was actually selling the Class B from called me and promised my money back. Time will tell because the check hasn't made an appearance in my mailbox yet.

So back to the lessons learned in 12 years of Catholic school and, as long as we're at it, the way I was raised.

I never learned to act on what my gut was telling me. I could hear it shouting and acting out many times, but because I never had practice at listening, or was never taught that what I felt was more valid than what I was told, I just dismissed it as noise. Well, not this time, buddy. I started smelling a rat as soon as I found out that while it was supposed to be for sale by owner, this seller could not have been the owner because he didn't know how different functions in the motorhome worked. Just a little sign that all was not right, but I started listening right then and there. Then all the other things listed above began to rear their heads and I started asking friends, "does this seem weird to you?" Well, yes, all of it actually did.

I knew I was at risk of losing my $300 but I canceled the inspection at Evergreen, saving more than $400 for their fee, and emailed the seller to start the argument of getting my money back.

Part dos of this story continues tomorrow.