The Cordrays Settle In

Because Home is Where You Park It

Today we celebrate one week of living in Memphis, Tennessee. When I let my daughter Courtney know we had landed, she replied “Glad you made it safely and welcome back to civilization!”. I was puzzled for a brief second because we hadn’t been boondocking or camping and had been amongst people for at least two weeks. Glancing around our furnished corporate apartment the light went on. Yes, this is more civilized than either of us has been in a good long while. The rugs, linens, and furnishings are white or grey, contemporary, with a few traces of red and black here and there. The maintenance man, while addressing a puddle that had formed on the windowsill, asked where we lived before relocating to Memphis. When I said the Sonoran Desert of Southwest Arizona a look of shock raised his eyebrows as he informed me that Memphis is second only to Seattle in annual rainfall amounts. Were we prepared for such a change? Having grown up in Houston and Dan in Jacksonville, Florida, and having traveled the country for many years with all of its weather variations, we would manage, I said. We could roll with the weather. Culture shock at living in a climate controlled box was another thing entirely.

I watched a vandweller video recently about one young lady’s transition from road life to living indoors full time. It was timely since I was packing for this adventure when I stumbled across it. Points were made that I hadn’t considered but I now know to be true. There are conveniences that others take for granted that have been far from my realm of experience for many years, at least on a daily basis. Not counting the 16 months when I lived with Dan at his old Kentucky home and time spent at an upper flat I rented with shared amenities, it has been quite a stretch since I used some of these luxuries on a daily basis, at least in my own digs.

It has been thirteen years since I used a dishwasher frequently. I have not had a washer and dryer in my dwelling space for that long. Most of my clothes have only experienced the punishment of laundromat. Dan had a microwave at his place, but other than the one that came with our desert casa that blew up after a weeks’ use, I have not owned a microwave for the same baker’s dozen 13 years. Never have I live somewhere with a glass-topped stove. I have not lived in a gated community for that long, nor have I enjoyed those fun bits that nicer apartment complexes have like a gym, swimming pool, community grills, etc like I did while living in my last apartment. I issue no complaint since the great outdoors has been my gym, the lakes and rivers my swimming pool, and a handsome man leaned over the campfire rustling up some chow for me and the pups (and sometimes friends) my community grill.

When asked what I miss most about living in a climate controlled box when we are on the road, the answer is always the same. A bathtub, I miss a bathtub. Our place in Quartzsite does not have one, although there is a community spa one trailer and the length of the shuffleboard court and horseshoe pit away. It is nice, and the shower there has more than a ten gallon hot water tank, but it is not a bathtub. During my living-in-bed days, the less than ten feet between my bed and sitting on the toilet waiting for the tub to fill felt like ten miles. If I could sit in the hot water awhile and let my Tin Man joints unstick I could possibly locomote to the kitchen and make breakfast for myself and my teenage son Jon. The bathtub was as useful to me as the king-sized pillow top bed in its massive oak frame and the 100 year old wicker chair and ottoman on the back porch where I spent the hours I was not sleeping or resting my beleaguered body. I was grateful for the dishwasher, washer and dryer, and other amenities available at that apartment that made it possible for me to function within extreme bodily limitations and made it easier for a teenage boy to help his mom.

Here, these amenities are standard although often overlooked by me. I percolate the coffee on the glass-topped stove in our old aluminum camp percolator with the jute-wrapped handle and reheat it that way, too, just under the microwave that I just simply don’t notice. I reheat leftovers in a pan under that microwave, and make nachos in the oven without even thinking about another option. I have done one load of dishes in the dishwasher just to confirm that it works, but I doubt it will get much play. There is a tv in the bedroom that I doubt I will ever watch and another in the living room that we have watched after retraining ourselves to use the multiple remote controls. We have a tv in Quartzsite. For the past six years it has been used as a tv maybe three or four times before it was converted into a computer monitor for Dan. He does watch movies and tv shows on his phone and I have Net-Flixed now and then but very rarely. There is too much to see outdoors to bother with such distractions and mind-sucks unless the weather is rough.

So my days are spent while Dan is at work turning the tv volume up to hear the Yacht Rock music channel over the combined cacophony created by the ice maker, the washing machine, and the sound of people walking overhead. The music masks but does not cover these noises that set the pups on edge in the earliest moments when you could add barking to all of that. Now settled into their chosen lounging spots, they rarely startle. The tall ceilings make the thunder seem louder which isn’t Libby’s favorite part. The squirrels running the fence line are. Layla sport-barks at the folks playing pickleball or tennis but shows no interest when let out to see what they are up to. Her favorite part is the patio. Her least favorite part was backing into a doorstop and fleeing in terror at the unfamiliar, twangy sound. I still can’t tell whether they want to explore or truly need to relieve themselves so we do the dog walk many times a day, although that Memphis rain and the spongy saturated ground slows them down slightly. I often open the door to the patio to give them the “it’s pouring” reality check before donning my Nomadland movie free pile Wellies (rain boots) and hooking them up to leashes. Layla sleeps in the kitchen if I am in there, just in case something drops. They seem content, although I am sure they wonder if we are merely house-sitting.

Dan is enjoying his job and I am learning new skills like ordering groceries through Instacart and using the big trash compactor instead of dumpsters. A trip to West Memphis (which is actually in Arkansas) gave us a chance to replace the white rugs and other furnishings with darker, pup-friendly colors. There will be mud, that’s a fact. It’s crazy that we once again live in one state and shop in another. That part is familiar, at least. I have my art desk set up and I am reminding myself how to watercolor. Dan has a desk area nearby where he is currently listening to work training videos with headphones on. If we just counted the dining room area where we are seated, it would feel like we were still in the van. The entirety of our new home IS cozy and less like a motel or someone else’s house as I add my little decorative and organizational touches but it is more real estate than we are used to.

As always, just before nodding off at night one or both of us says “I love our life” and the other agrees. I love especially that we have the courage to try something new and the willingness and chops to adjust to any situation. What a blessing as this is what makes it all possible. Nope, we have not explored this new city and have no pictures and stories to share about it but look forward to that particular adventure. The cover photograph is one of my watercolor paintings from my early road days, to inspire you until I snap some Memphis pics. In the meantime, you are caught up on life at the current version of Camp Cordray. And look who has written three count ‘em three blog posts this very week. Wooooo hooooo! As always, thanks for following our adventures!

Blue suede blessings.

Brenda Cordray

“The Desert Rose”

The moody Mississippi River, on our first walk along the greenway near our apartment.