July 5, 2018
Hubby and I have been to Hot Springs before and enjoyed it, so as a stop on our gradual journey home, it made for an easy choice. It’s hard to break myself from calling Plano “home” even though we’re trying to think of the RV as home. It’s a switch, going from home as a spot on a map to home being this vehicle that you wander around the country in. Plano, with its population of soccer moms carrying their broods around in Porsche Cayennes and Mercedes SUVs, never felt like a place I identified with, but I do miss the house. I even miss pulling weeds, but only in a voluntary way when the weather is nice and the ground lets me have the roots due to a recent rain. Only a bit sheepishly, I pulled a few at our last campground, to Michael’s teasing.
But back to Hot Springs. Yes, they have the historic bathhouse row, and it almost felt like an obligation to go and get a spa treatment, until we did. I insisted on leaving our phones in the locker so when we had the bath it was just bubbles and hot water and cutesy LED lights in the water and calm. Calm. We rejoined the world briefly, pressing lightly-scented, cool cloths to our faces and drinking cucumber-infused spring water, before diving back into mental quiet on the massage table. Maybe I should adopt this routine as a religious observance. I don’t participate in organized religion, but if part of the point of that exercise is meditation and a positive reset for mind and soul, I think I could do worse than a soak and massage.
We’re way behind on travel updates but it’s been months since we’ve danced and there’s a session going tonight in OK!
Improvising pigs in a blanket. Looks like a meat Dalek.
Chip says “I want to walk across on the dam.”
“Why can’t we go all the way?”
Something about a road trip on a hot day turns a DQ sign into a hypnotizing tractor beam. I’m a kid again, on endless summer car trips to Grandma’s house in Mississippi. The only entertainment is dot-to-dot, word search, and keeping my eyeballs peeled for Dairy Queen or Stucky’s. Chocolate milkshakes from Stuckey’s were the most amazing things to be savored and made to last as loooooong as possible. It was like being let out of a dark prison cell for one glorious hour in the sunny exercise yard, after which there was only darkness again.Now that I’m a grown-up, going where I want and stopping as many G…D… times as I want to, yeah, I still can’t resist the siren call of D.Q. Ahh.
Staying in this small Lake Dallas park has felt like having a lake house without the worry over flooding. There’s plenty of space between sites, especially being half empty, and we have lake views from every window. The blue herons and snowy egrets stand sentry in the water, while mallards paddle along in groups. A nearby birdhouse hosts actual bluebirds! I still get a thrill seeing those guys and wonder where they’ve been all my life. A newly-built trail around part of the lake made for a couple of interesting exercise walks.
As a special treat, Michael built a fire tonight, and the temps cooled off enough that we could sit outside around 9pm without broiling ourselves.
We moved camp to a spot on Lake Dallas (Lewisville), and I decided to indulge in a little weaving time. Even though we’re not fully unpacked, and I still have half a gazillion boxes of slides to go through, I deserve a little creative time.
Right? Right. Besides, Herr POTUS who must not be named is liable to start WWIII tonight in Singapore, so drink up, me hearties, and do whatever ye like!
This little park near Denton features beautiful shade trees and miniature residents. I wonder what they’re saying about us?