A Rose By Any Other Name.

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Day Two of the trip home and I was kind of getting used to the idea of the big weighted playhouse following us down the highway. We were off the big freeway and on a slower road, we pulled over every chance we got when traffic stacked up behind us – and there was little traffic. We were both breathing normally and I didn’t completely hate the caravan.

Thoughts turned back to the name. It had to have a name. It was cruel to just keep referring to it with swear words.  I tried to think of romantic names that conveyed this phase of our life where we were going to just follow the wind but they were all so cliché. “Hearts Song,” Wind Dreamer,” blah, blah, I didn’t want some play on words or some stupid slogan that would end up on a t-shirt or the side of the van.

And then it came to me.

There was only one name for a true blue, new member of the family. It was a name that had always been assigned to every pet I ever had, my goldfish, my bunny, my kitty, my puppy, my pet cow, my pet pig, my brother and my children at one time or another …. “Fluffy.”

I told Derek.

He kept driving. I think sometimes he hopes that Alzheimer’s will set in and I will forget some of my great ideas but I have a mind like a steel trap. He tried to ignore me for miles and miles but my mind was made up.

“It’s perfect. Our caravan’s name is “Fluffy.””

That afternoon we stopped for lunch. We pulled over on the side of the road, taking advantage of the “we can stop anywhere we want and eat whenever we want.” attitude we so longed for. Nice view, lovely trees, and the smell of crap wafting in the breeze, giving way to the knowledge that we were not the first to stop there. Cars also liked to stop anywhere, anytime, and did not have the luxury of a toilet on wheels to use. We wanted to turn on the air-conditioning inside being as opening the windows was out, only to realize that nothing worked, nothing turned on and neither one of us could remember where that special switch was that turned everything off. We were worried, in the flurry to find some way to turn something on, we had accidently turned everything off. The fridge was off. It would only run now if we were driving. We ate whatever we could stuff in our mouths quickly and got back on the road.

The caravan was still named “Fluffy.”

It appeared that tonight was not going to be anywhere we wanted to be after all. We had to find another caravan park to hook up to power, and hope we could figure out what the heck we were doing.

I do have to say that people at caravan parks seem only too willing to help with everything, but it is really annoying how they sit there so calm and serene with not a care in the world. Everything works in their caravans. We were supposed to look like that, only better, because we would be off on our own, in the wilderness, having life changing interactions with nature. The only interactions we were having was with a whole bunch of brand new expensive crap that didn’t work.

It had to be the equipment, no way it was us, right? I mean not us. No way.

At least the people in the caravan park didn’t laugh at us or call us names or anything.

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