I don’t have a picture for this blog, but if I did it would be the image of my middle finger waving stoutly to some mythical karmic being that I have apparently pissed off. Seriously, seriously? No, SERIOUSLY!! (I feel like the trailer for Grey’s Anatomy.) Part I: Let me just recap the events of this “trip of a lifetime”: 2 funerals, and an emergency trip to the dentist on my birthday. Not to mention five weeks in the town of Red Bay, Alabama getting our coach worked on. Don’t get me wrong, the people of Red Bay are wonderful; but it only has four stoplights, two of them are in front of the motor home plant. The best cuisine offered is fried catfish and the nearest Walmart is 35 minutes away. Also, it’s a DRY county. Ok, lesson in patience. Then we endured the tow-car fiasco. On our third attempt to leave Alabama Blaze broke his leg. Recently, in Tennessee we lost all power to the coach. Yup, the whole shebang went kaput. The joy of a motor home is that everything runs on power, even the toilets and the door locks, but especially the leveling jacks, the air compressor brakes and the slide outs. Luckily we were staying near our dear friends the Dyes again – who graciously took us in, cat, dogs, whining husband and all. Guess what? Back to Red Bay. We felt “lucky” on this return as we only had to stay two nights to repair broken wiring and a failed water pump (by the way, there are critical moments when you don’t want to find out your water pump has failed, I happened to find one of them! Thank God we have 2 bathrooms.). We were once again giddy this morning as we took off from Red Bay headed West, finally WEST!! Then the damn air conditioner broke. U-turn. So I say again…SERIOUSLY? I called my mother as I fought back the hysteria that threatened to boil in my blood. My mom can make anything better. She’s helped me through umpteen different disasters –cancelled weddings, expired passports and dysentery in a foreign country just to make a few, but I’ll save those for another chapter. Anyway, I dialed my mom, whom I lovingly refer to as Cath, and by her deafening moment of silence I couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or cry for us, probably both! She sympathized with my gripes and brightly reminded me that everything was still under warranty. Everything that is, except my patience. She estimated that ran out about 600 miles ago!! Sometimes it's great just to be understood - Thanks Mom! Part II: After watching our home ride the jacks up and down several times today we finally (gulp) left Red Bay, crossed the state line into Mississippi and kept on driving, ignoring every image we saw in the rear view mirror. HA! No need for vision when you can have sound! We were treated to a beautiful new noise in our motor home. It was small and wheezing at first, then it grew louder like a train horn continuously blaring. How long can you pretend you don't hear your home wailing like a freight train? We can probably go longer than most people. So, we barrelled down the road leaving Mississippi, blazing past Tennessee and alas into Arkansas. We crossed a HUGE freaky suspension bridge on the west side of Memphis and held our breaths as we stared wide eyed at the mighty Mississip flowing beneath us. This river never ceases to amaze me, for both its history and its sheer magnitude of strength. A six foot tree floating down river is merely a piece of lint being carried effortlessly out to the ocean. The sound continued though our amazement of this natural wonder. We found a campground called Tom Sawyer’s Riverfront RV, cool huh? We pulled in our site and cut the engine – the noise sounded like a 757 engine on a runway. It was so darn loud campers were coming out of their rigs to find out what had landed next to them. But it wasn’t a plane, it wasn’t even a barge horn, it was just the Madsons and their piece of shit motor home. Ok, so we like to make an entrance, but really? Good grief. There is nothing we can do about it today. So we just hooked up to our fabulous site right on the water and got to watch a larger-than-life barge pushing its load down the river. We enjoyed an hour of strolling along the bank and weaving in and out of a kudzu ivy covered swamp. It was replenishing. I think God gave us these moments of recollection to make up for the crap storm we’ve endured. He must have seen we were at our edge and gave us a lifeline to pull us back in. So from the banks of the Mississippi I bid you goodnight…until tomorrow’s fiasco begins.