Lost Shaker of Salt

It’s really a strange thing to wake up in a new location and it still feels like home.  I am 30 minutes from my first RV park in Grain Valley but I woke up in my bed with my knick-knack shit.  No matter the zip code, I am home.

Thanks, Hailey, for the another beer sign.  I bet you didn’t know I kept it.  Look at all that “stuff” in the kitchen.  It’s so weird to wake up in a different city and be home.

One of the deals I made with Vince is that I would purge a long the way.  He would like to reduce the weight of the camper until we buy a new truck.  At each campground, if I discover something I haven’t worn or used, I would trash or donate.  I kept my word.  I actually threw something away in Grain Valley.  I probably should have donated it but that seemed like a lot of effort and I was already mourning parting with yet another material item.


Farewell, glorious shaker of Parmesan cheese or multi-tasker of cinnamon and sugar.  It was either you or a pair of shoes and well, we all know the shoes will be last thing left on the side of the road.  Vince will be hitchhiking before any of my remaining shoes find new homes.  #byefelicia  I chose the shaker because it fell out of the cabinet when I was searching for something else.  Damn.

Anyway, our new campground is glorious.  The free WiFi connected on the first try to every single device we own.  My only complaint is a first world problem but really isn’t this blog all about first world problems?  Sorry, Susan, you can’t own a cheese shaker and have 8 washer/dryers.

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