Glamper dreams for 2019 and beyond

To the one and only negative comment I’ve received in 15 years, my genre is Chick Lit, not Harlequin Romance, but thank you for caring enough to share. To all others, thank you for appreciating my words, and I am glad they bring joy to your world.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it’s beginning to look a lot like New Year’s and I am pondering new dreams and new attitudes. Multitasking my way through life left me feeling unhealthy, so I decided to conglomerate my future hopes and plans into one massive job description, and I wanted to share my organized chaos with you.

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Have you ever heard of glamping? It’s glamorous camping. That’s where you retrofit an old camper into a funky living space, complete with chandelier, outdoor shag carpet, neon pink flamingos and 1950’s diner colours, and tow it behind a similar-tinted vehicle and go camping in glampgrounds.  I want to do that, with either a Boler-type camper or a good quality Volkswagen van (I don’t talk Mechanic, so need something with low maintenance costs.)

Big adventures are my way of life; having lived with 37 room-mates so far has taught me how important people are, and I would travel almost anywhere for a fun time, spreading sunshine and lollipops along the way. 

I appreciate unique doors, historic buildings, pre-foreclosure real estate and renovation shows. Having spent my childhood on an island in the Pacific, and early adulthood watching endless prairie skies, I appreciate beaches and sunsets. 

Even though my brother gave me a harmonica and a book entitled Harmonica for the Musically Hopeless, and I sing in my own key, music is in my blood. To prepare myself for my journey, I’m learning to play the guitar this year.  The harmonica? Not so much, although I play a mean set of spoons, and have dabbled in Jew’s harps.

I’m a foodie.  That means I enjoy sampling real food, expect every meal to be an experience, and I usually take photos of the most delicious offerings. To wear off the goodies, I’ve learned through decades of trial and error that my body needs movement.  Exercise is more than finger actions on Netflix controllers while munching chips-and-dip. Who knew that boxing, dancing, walking and maybe even a Zumba class or two would make me happy?

Having hummed and hawed over lists and graphs, it has become clear that one of my retirement dream jobs will be a travel writer.  Picture me, in a glamper, crossing this great country, stopping at all points of interest, history, culinary delights and events that bring joy. I would fiddle around with photography, architecture, beaches, food and musical talent. Be on the lookout for a glamper-driving, chick-lit writing kinda gal, braking for all garage sales, and tasting local delicacies with trusty videographers in tow to capture daily shenanigans. Want to volunteer? I’ll add you to the list.  A caution; laughter and frivolity await, so expect to have fun.

 

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