Showing posts from April, 2012

Blogger to Blogger

Hi Mark, I have been lurking for a month or so, waiting to introduce myself, until I finished your blog since 2007. As a wannabee fulltimer, I have been researching selling my house, business etc. and hence found Boonie, , Mobil Codger, and Glenn, blogs which led me here. After reading it all, I kinda feel I have lived in Ouray! Although, I have done some ballsy things in my life, going fulltime scares the shit out of me. Should I trade this: for this? As I got started, I found Mark and Bobbie selling everything and hitting the road, come what may and fulltiming for real. Taking your chances and seeing what would happen...this is going to be my kind of blog! I was almost stunned when I found out you all had taken the nest egg, and bought the house in Ouray after only 6 or so months on the road and didn't men


Messers Bell and Taylor: The esteemed Mr. Bell asks the question about reunions in general. On two fronts, I feel very qualified to shed light on this subject. Firstly, my father is a professional reunion attendee .For more than 60 years he has attended any and all reunions, to include, but not limited to Camp Virginia, St. Christopher’s School, The Episcopal High School, Woodberry Forest Sport’s Camp, The Gloucester Banks Association, The University of Virginia, including sub sets such as St. Anthony Hall and Eli Banana. I will be attending his 60 th reunion of the Marine Corps Veterans’ who were in Korea in the 1950’s in Seoul this September as his “companion” and a guest of the South Korean Government. As my mother is wont to say,” Ever Ready Eddy never met a crab dip he didn’t love”. Secondly, since 1980 graduation, I was out of Charlottesville maybe five of those years, so in effect, I never really left the UVa. reunion scene, albeit as a vendor and not an attendee. S

Last Date with ex-wife

Thank you councilor!   It was an attempt at humor and I hope it gave you a slight smile. My attorney here in Charlottesville has the same advice. He has made me promise to not get married anymore. I don’t know if you have heard that Jimbo Bell has written a book and, if you are so interested, it is available at It is the story of Jimbo’s pursuit and later happy 25 year marriage to Heidi. Ted, Peter, Thomas, Claire, all make appearances during the college years, the names changed to protect the guilty. At one point, Jack and Nick are living at 43 Pine Street, Nantucket, in 1980, “waiting for a train or a boat somewhere”. As Jimbo and I talked, getting some names, dates and places verified, I begin to wonder about my own story, why was I living in that dump, waiting to go somewhere? Why 35 years later, am I living as frugulist in a mountain holler, still waiting for the train or boat that is never going to come? As foil to Jimbo’s true devotion

Death Spiral at Crabtree Falls

Uncle Ted on the Road discovers a magazine article. Score a couple of points in favor of unexpected detours. Dear Folks, (feel free to pass the lesson learned on to the kids at a time as you deem appropriate), I stealthily parked my car at the Dark Falls Trail Parking Area today, which made it appear that I had gone to the open section of the park, and hiked two miles in the opposite direction to the closed Big Meadows campground where I have spent time in more temperate times. In the summer it is teaming with Rv’ers and campers of all kinds. Today, I was the only person there, trespassing around in the still winter air, snooping on the empty sites, cabins and the closed for the winter lodge; a herd of deer as curious of me as I was them. I decided to take a different path back to Charlottesville, going down 211 though Luray and on to 340 which follows both forks of the Shenandoah River. I stopped in the small town of Shenandoah at a non descript Italian restaurant. A

Chats with Caroline

Although it has been sometime ago, generally as a family and specifically me, have burned and ruined about 25% of our "steak nights with Dad". This stems from doing other things and NOT being the grill master when it really counts.In my case, it is sipping red wine, then putting $75 worth of three inch T-bones on the grill, and then going inside to take a long distance call from my Mom. Folks, some seriously sad stories have resulted from this charred malfeasance! So we constructed this block for the*GRILLMASTER*. Whoever sits here, and they may delegate the actual grilling, is responsible for the steaks, and under no circumstances can they abandon the post until those babies are safely resting on a platter inside, dusted with Maldeon sea salt. This was my daughter last night as *GRILLMASTER*, as we chatted about both of our futures. On May 20, we had another visiting*GRILLMASTER*, first it was the recently graduated from James Madison University, cum laude Giles

A Courtroom Story

A COURTROOM STORY: Los Cruzes, New Mexico Summer 2002 Why I think my adolescence I don’t know, unless it is because of Dostoevski. The night I sat down to read Dostoevski for the first time was a most important event in my life, even more important than my first love. But the world stopped dead for a moment, that I know. It was my first glimpse into the soul of a man, or shall I say simply that Dostoevski was the first man to reveal his soul to me? Maybe I had been a bit off before that, without realizing it, but from the moment I dipped into Dostoevski I was definitely, irrevocably, contentedly off. The ordinary, waking, workday world was finished for me.   I was like those men who have been too long in the trenches, too long under fire. Ordinary human suffering, ordinary human jealousy, ordinary human ambitions- it was just so much shit to me. On the contrary, I have only felt pity for everybody and everything. From the very beginning I must have trained myself not to wan

Fearing death at the catered affair

AN ALUMNI HALL STORY JULY 2004 “It is imperative, as Mr. Sabato has a live interview with CNN at 3:00 PM, that the meal be totally finished by 12:30 PM .The Vichyoissoise should be served no latter than 11:45 AM.” A quarter century ago. Cultural anthropologist. Pulitzer Prize winner.   “You did such a great job at our last event; I hate to rush such a special meal.”   For a time, during the primacy of Freud, it was huge. Central thesis is one of the most disturbing analyses of human behavior ever set in print.   “Mr. Sabato, strangely enough, will probably eat at Subway at Newcomb Hall. But we do have some vegetarians.”   Everything we are, our personalities, our attitudes, our personalities, our very being, is an elaborate lie, a carefully constructed self-delusion constructed to avoid having to face a fact so terrifying it would drive us mad: “Attention everyone, ‘slowly pour the ice out of the cups, pour in the Vichyoissoise, using these pitch

Meet da' Shaggin' Wagin (the test rig)

Tent and da 'wagin. Let me introduce you to “the Shaggin’Wagin” (this name comes from the gross baby blue early 1990’s shag carpeting throughout the rig). About three years ago, I bought this ride, as is, off Craig’s list for $1000. The odometer broke two years ago at ~300,000 miles. This was to be a practice run for RV’ing to see where I fit in that world, as I planned my exit strategy. After more than a few humiliating experiences, such as being carried off (flatbed tow truck) the Blue Ridge Parkway with blown radiator hoses and other such trip ruiners, I have spent about $5000 and she is running well. I carry lots of supplies, tools, tents and other camping gear. The kids, friends and I use it as a home base for car camping and for music festivals. Sometimes I go a wanderin’ and a ponderin’ alone and stealth camp in a bed in the back wherever I end up. Last night I went up to Big Meadows and grilled a skirt steak and drank some Albemarle County red wine. Although I had se