In going, the great stumble passing through the gate;
Do not enter that house.
I have a picture in my mind
Of the place where I was born,
But nothing about it means "home" to me
Except by how it reminds me
Of the place where my parents were born.
That place is a kind of home for me.
I'm a homeless house sparrow.
Nancy: We left Oshkosh and I talked Bob into taking a route that would go by some rock formations, namely "Jailhouse Rock" and "Chimney Rock." The plaques by them said that these structures were landmarks for the pioneers. They signaled the beginning of their trek through the Rockies.
We arrived at Scottsbluff in the late afternoon. We were getting pretty hungry and a little grouchy. Bob wanted to go to the Taco Bell but I wanted to go to a nicer Mexican restaurant. The food was horrible! They made cheese enchiladas with flour tortillas and their "hot" sauce was like watery ketchup! We stayed pretty grouchy while we had difficulty finding Lake Minitare where we were to camp out for the next nine days. We finally found it after Bob asked for directions at an "airport" just outside the city.
We had to buy a year's permit plus $10 per night for a campsite with electricity. We decided to pay as we went. We chose a site close to the bathrooms and showers that was on a peninsula jutting out towards the middle of the lake. There were hardly any other campers around. Tall trees grow out of the murky shallow water by our site. Across the road there was open field. I was already getting bitten by mosquitoes. I couldn't see how I was going to stay there for nine days. I tried calling the girls three times that day with no answer. We had walked down to the tip of the peninsula to use the pay phone by a lighthouse and a marina. Both were closed but the phone worked.
They still weren't home! I got so depressed that I fantasized about walking out into the lake until my head disappeared. But then, I wouldn't ever see my girls again. We went back to the camp and laid under the fan in the van. I could tell that Bob was "walking on eggshells" around me. I was not having fun. He said that it is always hard adjusting to slowing down your pace when you're camping, after working so hard to get there; with the implication that I should just adjust my attitude. That only pissed me off more. What was I doing there? I had no idea about what I was supposed to do. What did he expect of me? I knew he didn't want me to have the nervous breakdown I felt like having.