So, now, we’ve got a lot of time to kill. We think maybe we shouldn’t plan to drive back to Fredericksburg after midnight. We think we’d kind of like to see our favorite Monday night TV programs – Dancing with the Stars (Susie), 24 (Rob). Hanging out at the River Walk, or going to a movie, or doing anything else during the wait, doesn’t appeal. So, we drive out near the airport and get a motel room. This sort of freaks Heidi out, when she talks to Mandi, but Mandi assures her that all we’re up to is TV. She knows our interests. We don’t know whether to be insulted or not, and if so, by whom, but as soon as the TV shows are over I don’t feel tired and start to think that we/I can drive to F-burg (about 70 miles) after we pick up Heidi. Also, I’d like to leave Fredericksburg by 10:00 am Tuesday and I doubt that we could get around early enough in the morning in San Antonio to accomplish that. So, we leave the motel, meaning our payforview TV expense is probably similar to what people paid for the big boxing match a few nights earlier.
We drive over to the airport, circle through various construction zones and unmarked exits and intersections until on the third circuit we find the short-term parking lot. (This whole city, I remember from being here often years ago when son, Jeff, was in school at Trinity University, has lots of weird, badly signed intersections, streets, and highways and it hasn’t gotten any better.) By the time we get in the terminal I’m starting to feel a little punchy - I tend to blame myself when I can't drive directly to my destination - and think maybe we should go back to the motel when Heidi arrives (we didn’t check out – that would have been embarrassing; we just left and left our key cards in the room. We figure now we could make up a story and get the room back). But, by the time she arrives I’m revived and we drive back to F-burg with no problems – Susie and Heidi heroically talked all the way to keep me alert.
Speaking of Jeff reminds me: to see granddaughter Malia dancing go to http://bringinghomemalia.blogspot.com. There's a video to click on in the May 6 posting.
Tuesday goes as planned. Gastronomic highlight is lunch at a barbecue joint on the south side of Lampasas where we had eaten before (intersection of 281 and 190). This is one of those places where you pick your meat off the smoker grill outside the restaurant, ask the grill guy to slice off what you want, take your meat in to be weighed, pick your drink and sides, pay, then eat off butcher paper. Of course, country music in the background. Texas barbecue the way it's meant to be. Monday, on the way to F-burg we had followed the Calcotes’ advice and stopped at Cooper’s in Mason, which has the same modus operandi. Heidi, who works alongside world-class cooks for the Bellagio restaurants, is quite impressed. RVing is pretty exciting foodwise. It would get even better, come Wednesday.
We have a Lampasas story that Susie loves, so I’ll insert it here. Next time she starts to tell it, you can say you already heard it. Our second night out in Tuzigoot, back in 02, we stayed in a Lampasas RV park, located near the aforementioned barbecue joint. It’s an old park with a jumble of sites, not neat ranks of parallel sites as in new parks. Also had low-hanging trees. As I pulled out and headed for the exit I was paying particular attention overhead, dodging branches, but still scraping some. Susie said "Someone’s hollering at you to stop." But I didn’t until too late. In the side view mirror I see a geyser. I’ve broken off a water faucet and scraped the side of our brand new motor home. The park manager shuts off the main valve and heads for his hardware store – he owns it, too -- to get repairs – it’s happened before. We disconnect the car and extricate ourselves from the mess. A bystander says, “Yup, there’s sure a steep learning curve with these RVs. The worst are them doctors that can’t even program their VCRs.” (Well, a few days earlier, before leaving home, we had spent most of our practice outing trying to get the VCR to work.) Not wanting to provide any more entertainment for the Lampasas folks I told Susie, "Just drive the PT and follow me to Austin. We’ll hook up later" – in the RV sense, I mean.
My Tuesday objective is Camp Tonkawa Springs, near Nacogdoches, TX. (Somehow I came across this site in looking where we might get to after F-burg, going generally in the direction of Nashville.) Here’s another Texas locale named for the same Indian tribe as my hometown in Oklahoma. (Click here for a scholarly website on the Tonkawa Indians. Nothing is said about cannibalism, so maybe that report is a myth. Interesting fact: Tonkawa means people of the wolf. They wouldn’t kill a wolf and they wouldn’t farm – said wolves don’t farm.)
We get to the camp, several miles down a narrow, rough road off of the highway, after the office has closed. Lots of room, we park, I check out the springs, planning to swim, but the pool below the springs is pretty stagnant and full of leaves and twigs. The water level is several feet below the spillway – not attractive for swimming, though you can tell that’s the usual activity. Next morning I find out that the pool had been drained for repair and it was just in the process of refilling itself. Once it’s full, the trash would have washed out and it would be a nice swimming hole. So, if you’re ever near Nacogdoches, check it out. I also find that a Boy Scout camp at the site had been the source of the Tonkawa moniker. There doesn’t appear to be a local Indian tribe connection – ditto from the above website.
We have a pleasant evening, the skies threaten once again and Susie and Heidi try to figure out where we should take shelter, but nothing much happens.
Enough for now.
Cheers,
Rob and Susie
Day 2 starts with an unusual problem -- About 6:30 am I start to leave for a trip to the KOA facilities and I can't unlock the front door. That's the only door. The lock had been working smoothly, up to now, but I can't budge the deadbolt knob. What to do? I could wait until someone walks by and throw them a key and see if the door will unlock from the outside. The wait might be too long and would be embarrassing. I could force the knob, but that might make things worse. I could go out the emergency window -- but I'm not sure but what when I release its latches, it might crash to the ground, which you would want in an emergency but not now. So, I decide to climb out the driver's side window. The decorative bed spread is laying nearby (we have daily rituals of unmaking the bed and making the bed) so I get the idea to lay it over the window sill and hang it down the outside to protect the motor home. I squeeze out backwards, dangle, and drop lightly, catlike, to the ground. The lock won't budge from the outside either, not surprisingly, so I get a screwdriver out of my toolbox, get the ladder out of the basement, climb back inside and with a little bit of work -- the knob was lined up with the screws -- take the back off the lock. Still can't retract the deadbolt, so it's back through the window and somehow working the key in the loosened lock retracts the bolt. There is a second door lock, so we won't be without security until I get the lock replaced. Getting the back of the lock back on just to hold the lock on proves difficult -- a three-hand job with only two hands. Susie soon arises, though, I tell her about the excitement, and together we soon get the lock secured and away we go.
You may remember that Malia received a Buddhist blessing in China in December. Now, according to your point of view, she's either protected in two religions or this baptism overrides the Buddhist blessing.
Here, tourists (Jason, Karen, and Mike) stroll the portico of the Palace of Governors in Santa Fe.
