Beautiful People

Morning finally came after a fitful night of sleep, dry camping at the rest stop where the Raven had broken down. My nights are especially fitful when we dry camp because, without power, I am without my CPAP. I have a very bad case of sleep apnea, which includes episodes when my brain forgets to tell my body to breathe.

The AAA tow truck towed us ten miles into Yreka to a garage called A1 Auto. Their first assessment of the situation was as we had feared—the starter and solenoid needed to be replaced. Didn’t we just have our regular garage overhaul the starting and charging systems? Yes. Yes, we did.

We signed off on their estimate, but after they began the work, they found the real problem. Now, I’m not a mechanic, so I don’t know the proper terminology. Just bear with me. The last person who replaced the ignition module thingy did not do the most crucial step of smearing grease or goo or insulation gel under it. Without the goo, it shorted out the whole system. We were not happy, and needless to say, we have to go back on the first guys for financial resolve on a few matters.

My stress level and lack of quality sleep were eating away at the last little bit of fortitude I had remaining. When they said our rig would not be completed that night, well I was very near tears.

We (including Tinker Belle) parked ourselves in the coolness of their waiting area for the duration of their open hours. I found a bible amongst their reading material and read a bit. People came and went. A nice Hispanic family joined us for a short while. They had picked up a few peaches at a stand down the street, and she gave me one. It was a sweet blessing.

All the people we had dealt with up to this point in Yreka have all been beautiful people. When I say beautiful, I am not talking about outward appearances. I mean the beauty from within, the beauty God sees. The glow of a kind and generous soul. The bubbliness of a joyous spirit.

Then a very beautiful woman and her son came into our little sanctuary from the outside world. We had such wonderful, beautiful conversations, and if we had not been traveling in different directions, I venture that we could easily have become fast friends. Her name is Willow, and I believe her mother named her correctly, as I can see the grace and beauty of a magnificent willow tree in her actions and words, the way she so openly cares and gives of herself, joyously.

Willow told us a bit of wisdom from her grandmother, which is that “Breakdowns lead to breakthroughs.” We’ve yet to encounter that breakthrough, though.

The guys at A1, by all rights, could have told us to go find a motel for the night, but they allowed us to sleep in our rig, inside their locked fence. (Yes, we had the  lock combination in case of emergency.)

All of the staff there was so wonderful to us that Ken had to bring them a box of donuts from Raley’s to say thank you.

By noon the next day, we were all fixed and settled up with them, and ready to hit the road again, but we no longer had a destination.

You will have to tune in tomorrow to see what happened next!

Love and blessings,

Jenni

I’m Getting Better!

Hey, maybe drawing and painting is like riding a bike, after all. I am improving by leaps and bounds after years away from my artwork.

But I will let you be the judge. Check out me using an actual quill to draw an owl in pen and ink!

I needed to slow myself down, and if you struggle with your art, I challenge you to try pen and ink because it really makes you think about every stroke, unlike charcoal, where I, for one, make broad, sweeping strokes and erase and smudge a lot.

Enjoy!

Blue bird done in pen and ink and colored pencil.

This Virgin Mary I am working on as a commissioned piece. It is in soft pastels. I may start again, this time using paints instead.

This sailing ship was done in watercolors. The great thing about having a light box is that I can make one drawing, copy it, and do it several different ways, as below, which is done with colored pencils.

Thank you for viewing.

Patience . . .

 

So, patience seems to be a virtue needed in every walk (or roll) of life, and my patience is wearing thin. When Ken took the Raven to be repaired, I was feeling too ill to go with him. Big mistake number one. I also assumed it would not take seemingly forever to fix her. That was big mistake number two.

Normally, I can be a rather patient person.

I prefer my meals home cooked instead of micro-zapped.

I actually like the chilliness on winter mornings, when the furnace is turned way down and a fire has yet to be built. Then, I like to slowly thaw out in front of a blazing fire and later feel that robust warmth as it penetrates the entire house. (Unfortunately, we don’t have a woodstove any longer.)

I like the scratchy feel of graphite on paper. It is a tactile thing, an almost earthy sensation and an ever so slow process that typing at break-neck speeds cannot give the writer. It allows me to think about each word choice as I form my thoughts.

But then, I also like drawing with graphite. All that smudging and the emotional nuances one can add with deliberate fingers that she cannot get with keystrokes and CGI.

I prefer making things myself, rather than buying mass-produced junk. But if I do need to purchase something, I can be patient enough to wait for just the right one.

Surprises make me anxious, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t fun. I prefer to give rather than receive, but if I do receive, I like it to be on Christmas Morning, not on the Eve. And I enjoy watching others open their gifts before I even touch mine. That is where the joy is, in seeing the excitement of others.

Even though I can be patient in many aspects of my life, not having the Raven home is driving me crazy. I feel naked, or rather, the driveway looks naked without her. But the worst part is big mistake number three. I forgot to get some very important things out of the Raven before she left to be repaired. It seems every day I am saying, “oops, it’s in the RV,” about one thing or another.

My good fabric scissors are in the RV so I cannot finish the Roman shades. Besides, I forgot one vital measurement, so I cannot get any farther anyway.

A few weeks ago, I had a cup of hot tea explode on my belly. Unfortunately both the aloe gel and the big first aid kit were in the RV. Luckily the neighbor was there to help out.

On Thanksgiving, we were short a few of our usual serving bowls because I had needed them on our last trip and they never came back inside.

The list goes on and on.

And so does this waiting game.

Patience, darling, is all Ken can say for now. The Raven will be home soon.