I chatted with a reader yesterday about anger. She said she was having some problems lashing out at people. She didn't feel she was necessarily angry with her late husband but she was sure as heck angry with everyone else in the world. She wondered if maybe that meant that deep down she really IS angry at him. Ahhhhh, she's getting it. In the early weeks after losing Mr. Virgo, I secretly hated everybody. I especially hated happy couples walking hand in hand or, God forbid, kissing. I was on a bus one time and it was everything I could do to keep from screaming "Stop it! You're killing me!!!" to the couple across from me. I hated them. Angry, white-hot hate that came from some primal spot in the innermost crevasse where my heart used to live, happily intact and beating. I think I did a pretty good job of hiding this anger from others since my MO as the "Keeper of the Non-Rocking Boat" has been pretty much the standard in my life. So it seethed and boiled inside of me, eating away.

This is a concept I do not have in my skill set. Less is more. I try. I'm more like "It's not done till its overdone." In decorating, for instance. I have this thing for miniature chairs. It all started when I bought the coolest miniature salesman's sample at an antique store years ago and decided to "collect" them for a display in my home. Three is a collection. Twenty-eight is hoarding. It no longer looks like a display. It looks like an AA meeting for Barbies. In my downsizing, I ended up getting rid of all of them except the original antique one. And it's boxed away somewhere.

Yesterday had God written all over it. As we saw in yesterday's post, it was the one year anniversary of my Bohemian life on the road. TOW-Wanda and I have logged thousands of miles as I've navigated the hollows of my heart. I awoke yesterday and set out to spend the day with an attitude of gratitude.

I drove across the Appalachian mountains under wispy thin clouds. The trees are preparing for their annual autumn review with the same anxious trepidation of a new bride waiting to step out in her wedding finery. The air was hushed with the anticipation of the riot of color about to be splashed over these ancient hills. As I navigated the kiss-me-Kate turns, I listened to Yo Yo Ma's "Unaccompanied Cello". That particular album evokes fall for me. Classical music is the backdrop for many autumn trips to Explore Bookseller in Aspen for my usual stack of winter reading material. I hear the lonesome strains of those strings and my mind takes me to walks over crunchy leaf covered sidewalks, cool crisp air, mugs of steaming cider, flannel shirts, long denim skirts, warm leather boots...pumpkins on the doorsteps. Yo Yo Ma breathes fall's goodness into me.

Today is a big day for me. Today marks one year living as a Wandering Road Queen! I closed on my house and traded in little TOW-Wanda for TOW-Wanda Grande and three days later I hit the road. What an amazing year this has been. Living on the family farm in the camper for three months, house sitting for six weeks in an old Victorian, then back into the camper on a bluff overlooking the Ohio River till May. The Nelsonville Music Festival was a great way to start off the summer before I headed to Colorado for three months for lots of summer fun. The Black Hills of South Dakota rounded out that segment then I headed for West Virginia arriving just before Labor Day.

I have a muse in the form of a middle aged woman going through her own existential crisis. She found herself downsized out of a job that she had a terrific love/hate relationship with. It was the typical case of not knowing how bad you feel till you start feeling better. I love her tremendously. She is one of my dearest friends and I have never met her in person and have only spoken to her on the phone once in the two years I've known her. We have this little mystical friendship that might change if we make it more traditional. But, maybe not. Why push it? Anyway, she and I have deep philosophical discussions. She asks the hard questions. She makes me look. She makes me think. The other day we were discussing friendship and what it means to us.

You know the saying..."Hindsight is 20/20"? I had an interaction with a husband at the Country Living Fair that initially set my teeth on edge but now that I've had time to think about it, I wish I would have handled it differently. So, here's an open letter to that husband. (I know not all husbands are like this, but there are many who are. If you aren't, good on you. If you are, listen up!)

This is the season of richness. An abundant harvest is the reward for many hours invested during the summer months. Autumn is a beautiful time of year anywhere, but especially in the east. I just spent three great days with three great gals...all camping women. And we spent those days encouraging women to go places and do things. By encouraging others, we ourselves were given a boost in our own enthusiasm for traveling in our campers.

What a beautiful day! A perfect fall day spent wandering around the Ohio State Fairgrounds, marveling at the beautifully handcrafted items and the glorious displays of antiques. I especially enjoyed the Kentucky Deep Dish Blackberry Cobbler a la Mode and coffee I had for breakfast while I visited with three of the coolest gals from Charlotte. They drove all that way just to come to the Country Living Fair! And it was well worth it. If you ever get a chance, go! I went to the one in Nashville in the Spring. Although comparable, the Nashville show had more clothes. Those southern girls LOVE their clothes!!! One of the best treats yesterday was getting to visit Girl Camper extraordinaire, Janine Pettit. A fellow camper, Janine has been a Girl Camping Ambassador for years. She has an amazing website and podcast as well as a regular post on the blog on GoRVing.

I remember distinctly the day I realized I had forgotten how to play. I was a young mom, working to support my family while Hubby #2 was in medical school. He was either on call, asleep, or studying. I was doing my best to keep an active grade schooler occupied and quiet. The days and weeks and years all looked the same and I was tired. We've all been there...that dreaded hour when you begin asking yourself..."Is this all there is?"
Once life eased up a bit and there was a little more time and expendable income, I learned to ski. I had a bike. I hiked. I camped a little. But, I never really played with that happy-go-lucky abandon like I did when I was a kid...until this last summer. This summer was magical and I want to hang onto that feeling forever!