Prisoners in Texas (Prisoners of Air Conditioning, That Is)

At Cicada Springs RV Park, Killeen, Texas...

I knew it would be bad. During our reentry into Texas, my gaze fixed on the outside air temp gauge on Phannie's dash as we crossed the New Mexico/Texas state line. I had already seen 96 degrees at Roswell, so I was fearful that it could get much worse. We cruised through Midland, San Angelo, Brady and San Saba into Killeen, during which the temperature only increased to 99, so at least we didn't make it into triple digits. But 99 was bad enough.

I wouldn't have been so obsessed about the temperature had it not been for our being spoiled by the idyllic summer spent in Colorado and New Mexico, where we often ran the heater in the mornings. But, the longer we're here, the more accustomed I am becoming to being coachbound, as Phannie's air conditioners seem to run incessantly, keeping us from a certain death by heatstroke. Spending any time outdoors is out of the question for a few weeks longer, I'm afraid.

We overnighted in Midland at the Midland RV Park, a dusty, gravelly place with lots of long term trailers and a howling wind that caught Phannie's entry door as I opened it and jerked it out of my hand, testing the integrity of the door stops. They held with no damage, but I looked at them closely to see if anything had pulled loose. The wind had been blowing like crazy out of the south since we left Roswell and, needless to say, Phannie's fuel economy was abysmal. I didn't even check the computer to see what it was; I really didn't want to know.

We are visiting friends and relatives in the Killeen area before heading up to Fort Worth for medical/dental appointments and to attend the wedding that is the purpose of our early return to our beloved state. (Although you couldn't tell from my constant complaining about the weather here, we still love Texas, although perhaps not quite as much from June through September, when it is largely uninhabitable.)

Phannie's windshield and front cap are very bug-spattered after our dash from Santa Fe. In my mind, this makes the coach look unkempt--something like this classy rig:

Okay, that may be a bit overblown, but I notice this coach has its cockpit door open, which probably means that they, too, are in Texas in September.

I'm still working up the courage to go outside and wash off the bugs. On the other hand, I may just wait until we get to Fort Worth and get the mobile wash folks to do the whole rig. That would make more sense than calling the paramedics, I think.

Trapped inside Phannie as we were, we decided to to a little housecleaning. (Well, just to be accurate, it wasn't WE who decided that.) I was put in charge of vacuuming the floor and polishing the woodwork. Here's a photo of Sandy, showing me how it was to be done:

She had to show me over and over, because I was having trouble understanding the concept. She said that I was perhaps the poorest student she had ever had in her 30 years of teaching. I actually took a bit of pride in this, as I really hadn't exceeded any of my teachers' expectations back when I was in school. I finally figured out the process, however, but it didn't take long for this to become a real chore. There is much more wood in Phannie than I realized!

Well, that's enough for now; I have to rest up. Check back in a few days to see if we're still alive.

Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful life; please forgive me if I don't appreciate it enough each day.