Jo and I wandered around the camping area Sunday (as opposed to the permanent area) of the resort. We wanted to meet the folks who visit for a 10-day period.
We chatted with a couple who were talking with an overweight fellow who was missing most of his front teeth.
Charlie seemed to be the complainer of the park. He had complaints about Dick, the owner, about the neighbors who spy on him. About just about everything and everyone. You could feel the negative energy encircling him.
He told us he retired as an electrician and asked what I did. I told him I had been the publisher of a group of weekly papers. He immediately decided to pigeonhole me. "Oh. So you're an educated man?" he asked/stated.
I told him I had left school at 15 and he just couldn't buy that a high school dropout could scale the lofty intellectual heights of being a newspaper publisher. We danced around on that for a while and then the conversation rested on the five young people that Dick brings in from the Czech Republic each summer.
"Course, they don't pay them much," Charlie announced. "But the government pays them." He pronounced it "govmint".
I couldn't figure out what he was talking about and told him that. "The govmint pays all these people to come in. Just like they pay the niggers."
Mmmmm. And Barack Obama has to win over the Charlies of our country.
We left Charlie sucking on his toothless mouth and continued on around the campground.
At the end of our first two weeks of work here we were sucking air on Friday afternoon. Jo and I had been assigned to strip the flaking paint off more than 110 chairs and almost as many tables. Then we spray painted them. After we finished that (four non-stop days), we were assigned to rake the loose leaves on some of the lots owned by the park. We have discovered muscles that had long since atrophied.
Oooooh. the weekend rest seemed even more welcome.
On Wednesday of this coming week, we drive north to Connecticut to remove the winter cover from our boat. We'll spent a couple of days with her, getting her cleaned up for the broker we're contracting to act as our agent to sell her.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Wild Horses
The wild horses of Assateague, 50 miles south of where we live, are rough-coated, small and keep their distance. However, the group apparently voted to send one of their number over to the road so we could see him close up.
He stood quietly chipping away at the desireable new grass while humans got out of their cars and petted him - against the rules of the national park. The pony-sized horse seemed docile enough even though there were signs posted that these horses are unpredictale and should not be fed or petted.
The horses are thought to be the descendants of horses left on Assateague Island by mainland farmers in the 17th century who were trying to avoid mainland taxes on their possessions. They seem quite content with their lot as they stand at the edge of the land and water.
Farther south, on Chincoteague Island, there are even more wild horses. These are rounded up in July and herded across the water to the mainland where they are auctioned off. We might return for that event.
We had come south, stopping at Ocean City inlet to watch the surfers dancing with the waves. Ocean City seems to live mostly for tourism. There might be 40 miniature gold courses along the main road. Lots of seedy motels and condominiums rise into the sky.
As we sat on the rocks of the inlet jetty, photographing the wet-suit-wearing surfers, a rogue wave smashed over the rocks and soaked both of us. We retreated to the warm car.
Just a short distance from where we live, on the way home, we came to the Indian River inlet. The current was racing in at about three knots. Chinese families crouched by the inlet, casting their fishing lines into the water to capture dinner.
He stood quietly chipping away at the desireable new grass while humans got out of their cars and petted him - against the rules of the national park. The pony-sized horse seemed docile enough even though there were signs posted that these horses are unpredictale and should not be fed or petted.
The horses are thought to be the descendants of horses left on Assateague Island by mainland farmers in the 17th century who were trying to avoid mainland taxes on their possessions. They seem quite content with their lot as they stand at the edge of the land and water.
Farther south, on Chincoteague Island, there are even more wild horses. These are rounded up in July and herded across the water to the mainland where they are auctioned off. We might return for that event.
We had come south, stopping at Ocean City inlet to watch the surfers dancing with the waves. Ocean City seems to live mostly for tourism. There might be 40 miniature gold courses along the main road. Lots of seedy motels and condominiums rise into the sky.
As we sat on the rocks of the inlet jetty, photographing the wet-suit-wearing surfers, a rogue wave smashed over the rocks and soaked both of us. We retreated to the warm car.
Just a short distance from where we live, on the way home, we came to the Indian River inlet. The current was racing in at about three knots. Chinese families crouched by the inlet, casting their fishing lines into the water to capture dinner.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Work: What a Concept
Jo and I have been assigned this week to the company-owned Rattle & Reel hunting and fishing shop. Our job has been to check in the thousands upon thousands of fishing lures. These all are bar-coded and we laboriously check off each batch. We do muse about the possibilities of catching fish with worms like everyoine else in the world. Apparently that's no longer a reasonable option.
When we get through with a carton, we take a breather and stroll the store to check out this rarely seen world - at least for us!
"C'More Deer turbo-charges your hunt", the jug says. It only costs $59.90 a gallon.
"C More Bucks" is a hunger stimulant.
"Deer Cravin' Sweet Seduction" makes you believe in something that seems highly unlikely. In addition, there are Turkey calls that clip onto your rifle which you can pull while you sight on the turkeys. And there are copper 50-caliber hollow point bullets (20 for $25.99), while the platinum version is a bit more expensive. Boy, this is an expensive hobby.
On top of all these things, you will need to purchase the hunting suits that seem to have a thousand oak leaves sewn onto them ($280 for the top and the bottom) and then there's the moist towels that you use to eliminate human scent.
As we looked at all of these possibilities, the wonder is that there is a single deer or turkey or duck or fish out there. They don't have a chance.
The weather has been nasty: cool, drizzly. We run our propane heater in the motor home until bedtime. Then we huddle under the down comforter with the cat pushing in between us to borrow our body heat.
Looks like we'll be doing inventory control for a week because there is so much inventory that has just shipped in.
If you'd like to view Leisure Point RV Resort on Google Earth, just open Good Earth and type in the following address: 25491 Dogwood Lane, Millsboro, DE.
You'll see a very wooded site with hundreds of boat slips. We're located on the little lagoon at the top of the screen. Nice neighborhood.
When we get through with a carton, we take a breather and stroll the store to check out this rarely seen world - at least for us!
"C'More Deer turbo-charges your hunt", the jug says. It only costs $59.90 a gallon.
"C More Bucks" is a hunger stimulant.
"Deer Cravin' Sweet Seduction" makes you believe in something that seems highly unlikely. In addition, there are Turkey calls that clip onto your rifle which you can pull while you sight on the turkeys. And there are copper 50-caliber hollow point bullets (20 for $25.99), while the platinum version is a bit more expensive. Boy, this is an expensive hobby.
On top of all these things, you will need to purchase the hunting suits that seem to have a thousand oak leaves sewn onto them ($280 for the top and the bottom) and then there's the moist towels that you use to eliminate human scent.
As we looked at all of these possibilities, the wonder is that there is a single deer or turkey or duck or fish out there. They don't have a chance.
The weather has been nasty: cool, drizzly. We run our propane heater in the motor home until bedtime. Then we huddle under the down comforter with the cat pushing in between us to borrow our body heat.
Looks like we'll be doing inventory control for a week because there is so much inventory that has just shipped in.
If you'd like to view Leisure Point RV Resort on Google Earth, just open Good Earth and type in the following address: 25491 Dogwood Lane, Millsboro, DE.
You'll see a very wooded site with hundreds of boat slips. We're located on the little lagoon at the top of the screen. Nice neighborhood.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
On the Ocean
The waves, big ones, roll in from northern Africa and Spain. It's cool, refreshingly cool on the coast of Delaware. We've arrived for our Workamper assignment after driving through Angola into Rehoboth (pronounced re-HO-both) Beach.
We'll have to take time to unravel the linkage between these names and the country that sits above Namibia in Africa (Angola) and Rehoboth, the city in the center of Namibia that's the home of a distinct and proud group of people called Basters. They are a group of coloreds (a mixture of blacks and whites, hence the bastardization of their name). Strange places to be in.
The campground/marina people welcomed us when we pulled in. Dick, the head guy showed us on his layout of the resort where he had located us. It seemed like the best lot in the resort to us: our motor home overlooks the marina, with a view of the Indian River and out into Rehoboth Bay.
Rodney and his son helped us get hooked up. He fixed the picnic table that sits outside our front door and arranged for a sewer hookup collar. I plugged in the cable TV cord and water and electric and we were in business.
We unloaded our bikes and toured the facilities. There's a huge swimming pool, a 300-slip marina, a fitness room, a clubhouse with an 84-inch TV screen and a fireplace. Cozy!
Most of the people who live here use Leisure Point as a second home. The houses are manufactured homes and many of them have "for sale" signs on them. The motor home and trailer guests haven't come into town yet because the resort doesn't come alive until mid-April.
Jo and I drove our car to the beach and walked the sand. The roar of the ocean was therapy for both of us. That endless whoosh as the rolling waves break and smash themselves onto the sandy shoreline. We linger in the breeze, loving the sound, the peace.
Our journey into Delaware (a tiny state) took us across flat and verdant farmland. Enormous irrigation robots spread their legs across the fields. There's no need for irrigation on this day because rain had deluged the area in the night and water stood along the side of the road.
The journey from the hustling, dynamic Washington, D.C., area, through Annapolis, the capitol of Maryland, changed in tone the moment we drove across the enormous Bay Bridge across the Chesapeake Bay. This took us to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We'd sailed under this bridge many times, usually with a nasty chop on the water.
Now, we rolled along through the wetlands, past Kent Narrows, then the Choptank River. Tension drained away as the bucolic countryside whispered "relax" to us and we passed through tiny towns until we arrived on the Atlantic Coast.
Both of us look forward to the new work adventure that begins Monday morning. We still have no idea what our specific duties, though Rodney mentioned that the owner of the resort usually spends about $6,000 each year on plants and flowers, all of which must be planted. Jo is in her glory (at this moment) because she misses being able to garden. Rodney assured her she will get her fill of digging and planting and won't want to see another flower by the time she's through.
We'll have to take time to unravel the linkage between these names and the country that sits above Namibia in Africa (Angola) and Rehoboth, the city in the center of Namibia that's the home of a distinct and proud group of people called Basters. They are a group of coloreds (a mixture of blacks and whites, hence the bastardization of their name). Strange places to be in.
The campground/marina people welcomed us when we pulled in. Dick, the head guy showed us on his layout of the resort where he had located us. It seemed like the best lot in the resort to us: our motor home overlooks the marina, with a view of the Indian River and out into Rehoboth Bay.
Rodney and his son helped us get hooked up. He fixed the picnic table that sits outside our front door and arranged for a sewer hookup collar. I plugged in the cable TV cord and water and electric and we were in business.
We unloaded our bikes and toured the facilities. There's a huge swimming pool, a 300-slip marina, a fitness room, a clubhouse with an 84-inch TV screen and a fireplace. Cozy!
Most of the people who live here use Leisure Point as a second home. The houses are manufactured homes and many of them have "for sale" signs on them. The motor home and trailer guests haven't come into town yet because the resort doesn't come alive until mid-April.
Jo and I drove our car to the beach and walked the sand. The roar of the ocean was therapy for both of us. That endless whoosh as the rolling waves break and smash themselves onto the sandy shoreline. We linger in the breeze, loving the sound, the peace.
Our journey into Delaware (a tiny state) took us across flat and verdant farmland. Enormous irrigation robots spread their legs across the fields. There's no need for irrigation on this day because rain had deluged the area in the night and water stood along the side of the road.
The journey from the hustling, dynamic Washington, D.C., area, through Annapolis, the capitol of Maryland, changed in tone the moment we drove across the enormous Bay Bridge across the Chesapeake Bay. This took us to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We'd sailed under this bridge many times, usually with a nasty chop on the water.
Now, we rolled along through the wetlands, past Kent Narrows, then the Choptank River. Tension drained away as the bucolic countryside whispered "relax" to us and we passed through tiny towns until we arrived on the Atlantic Coast.
Both of us look forward to the new work adventure that begins Monday morning. We still have no idea what our specific duties, though Rodney mentioned that the owner of the resort usually spends about $6,000 each year on plants and flowers, all of which must be planted. Jo is in her glory (at this moment) because she misses being able to garden. Rodney assured her she will get her fill of digging and planting and won't want to see another flower by the time she's through.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Cherries in Blossom
We arrived in Washington, D.C., on a glorious day. We parked at our favorite campground, a county park in Reston, Virginia, and listened to rain being forecast for the next day. As a result, even though we were tired from the journey north, we got in our car and headed into Washington (about 20 miles away) because the cherry blossoms are in bloom and we wanted to see them in the sun rather than the rain.
Thousands of folks thought exactly the same thing so finding a place to park was tricky. Eventually, however, we parked at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, across from the majority of the 2,000 cherry trees.
The low-lying sun warmed the blossoms with its golden light. We wandered among families and lovers, single joggers, old and young. Muslim families posed for photographs, along with Japanese and Chinese and Mexican. It was the melting pot. And it was a wondrous thing to be among all these different people after being surrounded mostly be white old folks from Michigan and Illinois while at our winter quarters in Palmetto.
We drove out of Washington in the darkness, cruising along the George Washington Parkway, glad of having made the effort.
Thousands of folks thought exactly the same thing so finding a place to park was tricky. Eventually, however, we parked at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, across from the majority of the 2,000 cherry trees.
The low-lying sun warmed the blossoms with its golden light. We wandered among families and lovers, single joggers, old and young. Muslim families posed for photographs, along with Japanese and Chinese and Mexican. It was the melting pot. And it was a wondrous thing to be among all these different people after being surrounded mostly be white old folks from Michigan and Illinois while at our winter quarters in Palmetto.
We drove out of Washington in the darkness, cruising along the George Washington Parkway, glad of having made the effort.
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