Kernut was in Kerrville, Texas. Again.
“Home, home on the range. Where the deer and the antelope play.”
Kerrville, a town of about 22,000 in the northeastern area of Texas Hill Country, is where my grandparents had a small ranch for about 30 years. I was last there when I was twelve – a few decades ago, or 10 years ago. Hard to say, my math isn’t so good. I’m 29, dammit!
Kerrville has grown quite a bit and now includes the ubiquitous WalMart. My grandmother sold the last section of the ranch several years ago, but I decided to drive by and see how it’s changed since I was a kid. When I went by I found a portion of the original property was again for sale.
And guess what? There’s a pyramid in Kerrville, Texas! Like the one in Quartzsite, Arizona, I’m pretty sure the Egyptians didn’t build this one, either.
Entrance to the ranch in Kerville.
I’d totally forgotten about the gate guard pyramid. I think my grandfather built most of it and then the current owners refurbished it.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a little.) . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Home on the Range – the ol’ family homestead in Kerrville, Texas
This blog is about to change. A lot.
For the better, I hope. But I can’t make any promises.
I’m almost officially a gypsy. If all goes as planned by this time next week I’ll have no “permanent home”, and few possessions. Before you start to feel sorry for me, know that I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.
Uhh, what did you just say?? You’ve been looking forward to this?
Remember, I’m here because I’m not all there.
I didn't know you could get them gilded! Next time I'm ordering mine gilded.
For almost two years now I’ve fantasized about getting a motorhome, traveling the country like a gypsy while writing about my adventures. Granted, I often don’t know the difference between a fantasy and a plan. But is there really a difference? Must they be mutually exclusive?
And my dream is about to begin. I bought an RV, and will take possession of it in about a week. I can’t wait! I’m excited, and really hope I can pull this off.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : The Great Roll-About: Single Female Traveling Long Term in an RV
Guess what I learned recently? A study found the brain views money as a drug. They found it lessens social distress and physical pain.
No shit? Well, color me addicted.
They also suspect it is a substitute for romance.
Coincidentally, I’ve just found my new boyfriend!
This is a picture of my bank account after I win the lottery. No, wait. It's a picture of my new boyfriend. No, that's not it either. It's a picture of BOTH!
To quote the article Study: Your Brain Thinks Money Is A Drug by David Kestenbaum,
If you’ve ever thought of money as a drug, you may be more right than you know. New research shows that counting money — just handling the bills — can make things less painful.
Money As A Substitute For Love
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : My Brain Thinks Money Is A Drug and My New Boyfriend
Holy heart failure Batman! I joined an exercise Boot Camp.
The cat took me for a walk.
In case you don’t know, Boot Camps are a hardcore outdoor exercise program where they run you backwards up hills, and make you do backwards pushups and a ton of squats and other evil stuff. There’s also a strict diet plan that doesn’t include sweets. They’ve set me up to fail.
I don’t know why I signed up. Really. The only thing I can figure is I was under the influence of an overdose of cold/flu medicine at the time.
I believe being “under the influence of cold medicine” is grounds for temporary insanity. Not that I necessarily qualify for the “temporary” part.
This particular Booty Camp is ten weeks long, and it started this past weekend. (I’m calling it “Booty” camp because it’s all about getting my booty in shape.) Needless to say, my booty was bringing up the rear of the booty camp. Thank goodness I wasn’t the very last booty, like I was six months ago. This time there were about 200 people so my odds were better.
“Before” photos were required. Mine are really awful looking – which is why I joined the Booty Camp. If I do well, I may share the “after” photos. Maybe… but they might be awful, too.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Atomic Batteries to Power, Turbines to Speed
Sunset cruise on the Princess Monterey. It helped, but just enough to get me through the week.
From Mega Yachts to Tiny Houses.
This blog all over the place.
But if you’ve read at least three posts here, you already knew that. Besides, I wouldn’t know how/where to categorize this whole blog, given the limited options provided by Google and Yahoo.
Whatever. Their loss.
Actually, “Whatever” might just be the perfect category.
But I digress. Yet again.
Lately I’ve had this sense of unrest, this sense of needing to GO. Go where, I don’t know, but just to GO. Somewhere, almost anywhere, really.
I have a bad case of wanderlust. This happens to me quite regularly. I do love my wanderlust, it takes me to the most interesting places, on some interesting journeys, and fun adventures.
But it won’t be ignored. Like an intense craving, or more like being pulled towards something. I HAVE to go. I can stave it off for a month or so by spending a day or three at the coast, either Monterey or Santa Barbara. For years that has been enough.
But not anymore. It seems my wanderlust has grown stronger. A trip to the coast only seems to stave it off or a week or two rather than a month or two. Now it calls to me ALL. THE. TIME. Three months ago it was already calling me constantly when I mentioned it in Panic Much? FEAR = F*ck Everything And Run. I still want . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Tiny Houses and The Great Wanderlust