Not like in years past, though. This new living situation we’ve chosen has once again proven to have unexpected benefits. Since our kitchen is small, I can’t stock up on groceries, so I need to go out and face the world at least every few days. Add in our homeschooling friends about 60 feet away, and awesome neighbors about 6 feet away, and I have a hard time retreating into my Salinger-esque solitude of days past.

So while I’m having a hard time most days getting out of my jammies, I don’t feel myself sliding down the dark abyss. And according to a recent family poll, now that we’ve conquered most of our minor winter discomforts (dehumidifiers ROCK), no one is in any hurry to stop our camping experiment.

As far as editing my novel, I’m currently stuck on a particularly persnickety plot point (huge back-story dump related by one character over coffee), but I’ve recently joined a new writing website, and I’m planning to pick some brains in the very near future if I can’t figure this out on my own.

That’s about all I have for an update, my dear pair of readers… *grin*

Worst thing about my annual angst – it’s completely and totally under my control, yet I always let it get the best of me. I really thought I’d have it mastered this year, but I let the guilt of Christmas past sneak up and whisper in my ear.

We discovered hubby’s mother was suffering from dementia early in December, 2010. The majority of that month was spent running between her house and our apartment (a 55 minute drive one way) or to my sister-in-law’s (a 45 minute drive one way). At the time, we had managed the amazing (and most likely therapy-inducing) feat of having all three of our kidlets still believe in Santa (at the time they were ten, thirteen and fifteen). Between the lack of time, and our typically tight budget being stretched to the limit with the additional gas costs, we made the difficult decision to sit down and have “the talk”.

Any time I wonder if we’ve done an okay job raising our babies, I’ll simply remember their reactions that afternoon. The grief, anger and disappointment I was somehow expecting turned out to be joy, acceptance and excitement as they recalled moments through the years that we’d pulled off Christmas miracles and kept the holiday wonder alive. When we told them we’d have to do only a couple presents and stockings, they didn’t hesitate a second before declaring they’d be perfectly happy with only one present to unwrap and dinner around our kitchen table.

Christmas last year turned out to be magical even without an appearance from the white-bearded elf (although between you, me and the lamp post, I think he popped in for a bit – I still believe in the spirit of Father Claus). This year I was hoping to start new traditions and finally incorporate our pagan beliefs with our tree and stockings…but again, life got in the way of my plans. Nothing as dire (thank Goddess!) this time around, but lots of little things kept jamming up the works.

I take heart in the fact that we did end up with a tree –

And technically, our gifts managed to dwarf the tree –

I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. *sigh*

Hubby and I ended up doing last-minute, Xmas eve grocery shopping – given we live right outside of the capital city, and the closest stores are right off the main highway, I was dreading the potential claus-traphobic experience. Instead, we had an amazing and relaxed time wandering around a couple of grocery stores, getting supplies for our roast beef and potato feast. Relaxed except for that nasty little voice in my ear, encouraging me to buy things we didn’t need just so the kids could have more. I must be all kinds of susceptible to the subliminal selling machine that kicks in before the holidays because it was all I could do to keep from putting stuff in our cart. But I told hubby I was struggling and he talked me down, so we headed home we no extra (unnecessary) goodies stashed in the car. That’s a Christmas miracle in itself!

Needless to say, the kidlets each opened their present, much appreciation was shown, and we had a magical day. My goal for next year is to take the pressure off myself, and focus on the most important aspect of the holiday season – showing family and friends how much they are cherished. I wish the same for you as well, dear reader!

Better yet – my youngest crossed with me, completing the final 200 words of her story only about twelve hours after I hit the 50K mark. While her word count was much smaller, and she spent only a few days working on her story to reach her goal (meaning we weren’t working together every day) it was still wonderful sharing the experience with her.

Now, it’s time to walk the walk. Because my youngest set such a low word count goal, she’s barely scratched the surface of her story, and I’d love to see her finish it (she writes the kind of stories I wish I could, and can world-build like nobody’s business). So I’m trying to set a good example by continuing the good writing habits I’ve developed through the past month. I’m going to keep writing blog entries at least once a week. I’m going to edit and rewrite my NaNoWriMo and start working on the sequel. Most importantly, I’m going to work on Tangled Web, with the goal of getting it edited and published as an e-book by early next year.

So after spending a few days recovering from the furious November sprint, I’ve done some stretches, warmed up, and have plenty of water in preparation of the marathon ahead. I’ve already opened the Word file for TW, and now it’s time to start reading and taking notes. See you at the next finish line.

I’ve mentioned in other blog posts how I obsessively reread and edit my entries before posting them, so uploading something without changing anything is making me a bit crazy. Okay, crazier. *grin*

But as promised, I have an excerpt of my NaNoWriMo scribblings. This bit is from day 4, and involves my main character making a ghostly discovery. It has some basis in reality – I do have a friend named Gayle, and we really did see this woman over twenty years ago. Since this is still in rough draft form, I haven’t changed her name yet – hope she doesn’t mind!

So after I hit the “publish” button, I’m going to run away from the ‘net and hide, so I can’t hear people snickering at my unadorned verbiage. Next entry, I promise to cover up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She turned around to take in the scenery one last time for the night, like she couldn’t just turn around and come back here after dinner. As she turned, she caught something moving out of the corner of her eye – it looked like a late day sun bather was still lounging on the rocks in front of Shore Cliff, over to the right of where she was standing. But as she tried to focus in on the sun bather, the image of the woman (why she immediately knew it was a woman wasn’t clear, but she just knew in her gut it was a female), suddenly disappeared. She stared for a moment, thinking at first she imagined it, but then straining to see if maybe there actually had been a woman there and she’d fallen and Maeve would be her last best hope at being rescued, but the longer she stared, the more she realized there was actually nothing to be looking at.

She walked slowly back to the White House Inn, trying to process what she saw, or more accurately hadn’t seen, and decided she really didn’t want to eat dinner solo tonight. She decided to call a few different friends in the area, hoping someone would be home last minute. She hit it lucky on the first try – Gayle picked up the phone on the second ring (and she knew she was in town, visiting family after relocating to California with her husband) and said she’d be happy to join her for dinner. They decided to drive back into Gloucester and have a bite at the Pilot House – over steak tips and French fries; they got caught up on their lives since the last time they’d spoken in person.

Gayle had gotten married (which she knew) and moved to perform with her husband at venues all over California. She sounded so excited when Maeve mentioned her suspicion that Dave might be proposing sooner rather than later. She tried very hard to match Gayle’s level of excitement, and for a short time, she actually felt she was looking forward to the day she was going to be Mrs. so-an-so. She decided to ride this high for as long as it lasted, so on the way home, she asked Gayle if she should take the long way, for old time’s sake. Gayle laughed and said, by all means – besides, the moon is full and it’s far too beautiful to head home yet.

They drove slowly along Shore Road – for a minute, they thought about parking at the beach parking lot (a tiny little square of asphalt at the top of the road that overlooked the beach) and walking Magnolia beach, but after a whiff of the seaweed that had been fermenting all day in the sun, they decided to continue driving. When Maeve got to the point that she was where she’d been sitting earlier in the day, she pulled over, and she and Gayle went quiet for a minute and enjoyed the view of the moon beams dancing over the waves.

After a few minutes, they started to talk again, but as Gayle was discussing something wedding related, all of a sudden, Maeve saw that sun bather again – only now, given it was closer to ten at night then midafternoon, Maeve began to doubt the whole sun bather thing. She squinted, trying to see the thing more clearly, and realized that it was the figure of a woman, but she wasn’t in a bathing suit, she was in some type of garb that looked more like the 1800s than present day. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood up, but given that she still wasn’t sure what she was seeing (and the fear that her friend might decide she was certifiable), she decided to keep quiet.

After maybe two or three minutes of Gayle’s continued discussion on all things wedding, she suddenly broke off from what she was saying, and said, “Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but do you see that thing over there on the rocks?”

Maeve suddenly felt like there was a rock on her chest and she couldn’t breath – she was dizzy and disoriented as she tried to process that maybe Gayle was seeing the same thing. Two milliseconds later, she laughed to herself and realized she was letting her imagination get the best of her – she said to Gayle, “I think so – what is it you think you see?” feeling confident that Gayle would describe something like an animal or a piece of trash, and Maeve could have a good laugh at how paranoid her brain was getting.

Instead, Gayle said “Again, I know this sounds crazy, but I would swear I could see a woman over on the rocks in front of Shore Cliff.”

As soon as she said it, Maeve felt the blood in her veins go cold. Gayle, sensing Maeve’s reaction, said, “Oh, don’t even tell me you see her too!”

Maeve slowly nodded the affirmative, and Gayle let out a scared little noise. Gayle said in a very tight voice, “Okay, so what does she look like?”

Maeve, hoping against hope her answer was the wrong one, said “she’s dressed in something old fashioned, like a hoop skirt and tight bodice kind of thing – I want to say, even though she’s all white, that originally the dress was black and she’s in mourning.”

She turned to look at Gayle, and realized her face was as white at the apparent ghost (although neither one of them had used the G word yet). Maeve said, “So, you’re seeing the same thing I’m guessing?” and Gayle slowly nodded.

“Oh my freaking word – are you serious?” Maeve exclaimed, hoping that Gayle would laugh and say, ‘Nah, just kidding.” Instead, Gayle again slowly nodded and said, “I wish I was kidding, but that’s exactly what I’m seeing.”

“Okay, so just to prove we’re not crazy”… they took a minute to laugh a bit hysterically, then Maeve continued, “what is she doing right now?”

Maeve looked and noted that the ghostly figure looked like it was standing on the edge of the rock, gazing out at the ocean intently. She figured there was no way Gayle would say that. Instead, she felt cold chills going up her spine as Gayle said, “It looks like to me that she’s standing there on the rock, looking out to the sea, like she’s waiting for a ship to return.”

“Okay, so that makes sense given that we live in the town that honors ‘they that go down to the sea in ships’, right?” Maeve tried to grasp at any straw available.

“Yes, that’s true – this is part of our history as a fishing village, so it’s probably just something we’d expect to see, so no surprise our minds are playing tricks on us in such a similar way.” Gayle said, trying also to grasp at straws.

Maeve said, “So, just to see if we’re crazy, or really crazy, how about we sit here for a few minutes and see what happens?”

Gayle said, “I’m game” and their chatter about weddings, marriage and cool engagement proposals quieted down to nothing as the two of them squinted at the rocks not so far in the distance and tried to see what the ghostly figure was up to.

After about five minutes, Maeve noticed that the figure seemed to be moving back on the rock, like it was preparing to sit back down. She waited to say anything, and in very short order, Gayle said –
“did you just see her move back on the rock?”

Maeve’s stomach bottomed out, but she nodded the affirmative. “Yes, I saw that – what does it mean that we both saw it at the same time?”

Gayle said, “Damned if I know – so you did see her move too?” And Maeve said “yep”.

Gayle said, “Okay, does it make sense that I want to stay and see what happens, but at the same time I want to run screaming back home, so I can jump under the covers and hide for the next thousand or so years” And Maeve said, “yep, unfortunately I’m right there with ya!”

They watched for a minute as the figure turned, looked like it was spreading a blanket out, and sat down. They spoke in quiet but frantic whispers about what they were watching, and it completely matched each time. After the figure sat on the blanket for a few, with her hands clasped in front of her knees, she stood up, brushed her skirt off and got herself settled at bit, pausing for a moment to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, then she walked to the edge of the rock again, hands folded across her chest as if it were either chilly, or she was trying hard to comfort herself, and stared out again towards the horizon. She stood statue like for a moment, the quietly started to pace back and forth across the edge of the rock, always keeping her eyes towards the horizon.

After about ten minutes of pacing and staring, the figure would seem dejected, like the object she expected to appear – assuming a boat – wasn’t going to make an appearance after all, and she’d slowly make her way back to where it seemed there was a blanket, and she’d slowly sit down, settle her skirts around her feet, cross her arms around her legs, and continue to stare. Then there was a strange feeling of the scene resetting, and she would suddenly spring to her feet, as if she’d spotted the boat, and adjust her shawl around her shoulders as she eagerly gazed at the horizon. The slow pacing and eventual giving up and sitting back down would then replay itself.

“Gaylsies, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she asked, half hoping that Gayle would say no.

“If you mean it looks like we’re watching a widow watching and waiting in vain for her love to show up, then yes, I’m seeing what you’re seeing” Gayle said in a voice that sounded very far away.

They sat in the car and watching for at least an hour as the woman repeated her ritual over and over. They took turns at first describing in detail her movements, but after a short time, they just watched in awe as she repeated her motions over and over.

“Should we get out and go over there to see if it’s just a trick of the light or something?” Gayle asked in a hushed tone.

Maeve thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know. Somehow it seems like we might be intruding on her privacy, if that makes any sense.”

“Makes perfect sense to me”

“Besides, I don’t know if my jelly legs would cooperate at the moment,” Maeve said wryly.

Gayle laughed, and they decided they should quietly (or as quietly as possible, given they were in a car) drive away. On the way back to Gayle’s mother’s house, they talked about how bizarre the whole thing was – Maeve said, “I know this sounds melodramatic, but the hairs were standing up on my arms, and I was almost shaking”
Gayle said, “Not melodramatic at all – I felt the same thing!”

They discussed the possibility that it was the moonlight reflecting on something, but given how long they watched, and during that time how the moon kept disappearing behind the clouds but the figure never disappeared, they ruled out that possibility.

When they got to Gayle’s moms, Maeve thanked her for a very interesting dining experience and Gayle laughed. “Yes, we should definitely do this again while we’re both in town – but maybe we should skip on taking the long way home next time”

“Works for me,” said Maeve, and she waited until Gayle got to the front door before backing out of the driveway and heading back to her hotel room.

I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but we’ve been without a means of toasting since the end of July, when we sent our toaster oven/rotisserie to a new family via Goodwill. We promised the eldest we would buy the Hello Kitty toaster she’s been dying for because she was such an amazing help during our transition. However, while our living expenses are now less, we’re still in the process of using our extra money to winterize and such, so almost $40 for a single appliance is a bit out of reach at the moment.

Then hubby and I stopped by Target a couple nights ago – our vacuum bit the dust (pun definitely intended) recently, so we were window shopping for a new one. While we were in the home electronics area, I noticed a nice, basic toaster that was on sale for $15. I said to hubby, “Do you think she’d kill us if we came home with this?” and he said, “Not if we tell her we still plan to get the other one as soon as possible” so into our cart it went. A few aisles away, we found the seasonal cranberry bagels and English muffins we all love, so we felt the Universe was giving us the nod.

Sure enough, when we got home, the eldest was able to counter her (slight) disappointment at the lack of pink on our kitchen addition with the joy of being able to snack on her all-time favorite bagel. I was more surprised by our youngest – she was the only one at the camper when we returned (the other two were hanging out at the arcade, as usual), and she immediately unpacked the toaster, plugged it in, and toasted a plain piece of bread. She buttered it, and after her first bite, declared “I missed toast!” We’d also gotten her a fleece blanket she’d been wanting for her bed – a large one with a Black Labrador picture on it, and as she sat on the couch, wrapped up and munching, she said, “I’m so happy right now.”

This is the same child who, in the past couple of months, has gotten a new bike, new clothes, a new computer game (Sims Medieval) and a new hairdo. Yet, her day was completely made by a blanket and toast. We’d also gotten a small vanilla pound cake candle, set in a mini cast iron loaf pan, and all three kidlets stated multiple times how cool it was and how yummy it smelled.

I’m not sure if I’m noticing these things more because I’m making an effort to focus on the positive, or if our change of lifestyle has heightened our appreciation for the little things, but whatever the reason, I’m loving the result.

I’m trying to hold on to the fact that having 18 inches of snow and 20 degree temperatures in October is a great way to show us what still needs to be done with the camper to prepare for the “real” winter. While the storm itself was crazy, it did help us out by showing us not only is this doable in the colder months, it can actually be fun.

A few days before the storm hit, we spent time talking to other campers, and browsing through some websites, getting ideas for what we should do. We bought a new, shorter water hose, heat tape, insulating foam tubing, a “pillow” to block one of our skylights, plastic window wrap (although we may still try the bubble wrap) and a new bathroom vent cover. We figured since the bad weather would be relatively short lived, we could wait on doing the skirting and insulating under the camper until after the snow (and hubby is now starting to get it all installed).

We’ve discovered our biggest challenge is condensation. Camper walls are thin, and while we’re able to stay toasty warm with our forced hot air heating system, the air doesn’t dry out enough to counteract the moisture that builds up near the roof (in the cabinets especially). We’re planning to buy an infrared heater and place some fans at ceiling height to help clear things up. We’re also considering buying a couple of 40lb propane tanks – we seem to go through the pair of 30′s in about a week, and while we figure that will change once we switch to the heater, we still hoping to avoid changing tanks out so frequently. The campground does have the option of renting a tank that holds 100lbs, but the details of the arrangement doesn’t quite work for us, so we’re seeing if we can manage without.

The afternoon the storm started, our kidlets headed up through the huge snowflakes (so big they almost looked fake) to the arcade to hang out with their friends. After dinner, hubby and I headed up and met our friends for a card game, followed by a couple rounds of pool (the kidlets wisely decided to go hang out at our friend’s camper and play on the Xbox before we arrived). The walk home at close to midnight was wild – the snow was already close to a foot deep!

We realized we’d be in pretty good shape even if the power went out – our fridge automatically switches from electric to propane, we’d still be able to cook with our propane stove, the aforementioned forced hot air heater is propane fueled, and we have a marine battery backup for our lights. Granted, we’d be without television or computer, but we have plenty of card and board games, so I doubted we’d even miss it. However, we were in the lucky minority who didn’t lose power (there were some people who didn’t have power restored until late day on the 5th of November).

As I said, this unexpected blast from Mother Nature actually helped us realize that this little adventure of ours is still as enjoyable in the winter as it was during the summer months. We also discovered that while there are people here for many different reasons (vacation, money, transitioning to another area, traveling for work, adventure) one constant is we’re all in this together. There’s someone here who is in rather dire straits (I won’t share their story out of respect for their privacy), and I know of at least five people here who are doing everything from picking up groceries to using their own money to repair their heater. When I was talking to one of the “helpers” he said, “We’ve all been there [financial/health crisis], or we’ll be there some day. How could you not help?” Couldn’t have said it better myself.

While the name of this little corner of cyberspace is “Confessions of an Internet G33k,” lately it’s feels more appropriate to call it, “Adventures in Camping.” I’m happy to have been inspired to write entries on a regular basis again – nevertheless, I feel I’m veering away from the spirit of my original topics. Not sure if it matters at this point – my three regular readers aren’t complaining, so I guess I’ll ride the wave of inspiration rather than scrutinize if I’m on the right surfboard.

I’m going to wait until next week to post about our move to our winter campsite – I figured I needed a little more time to settle in and get my bearings. I will say the transition was much more hectic than I expected, thanks to vehicle and black water issues. However, when all was said and done, we we got everything accomplished with minimum (okay, maybe a teensy bit more than minimum) stress. Oh, and once again my eldest and hubby’s sister saved the day – this time they were joined by my sister-in-law’s husband in moving heroics.

So for this week, I’m going to write about… oh heck, can’t think of anything. *pout* I know I only have probably one more blog entry before NaNoWriMo starts, which will most likely be the update on our new location. After that, I’m thinking about posting short excerpts of my NaNo results each week in November, featuring the best (i.e. the most readable) sections. Not that I even know what I’m going to do for my next novel – at first I wanted to work on the sequel to “Tangled Web” but after trying (and failing) two Novembers in a row to get it going, I’m thinking a fresh storyline is in order. However, Cat and Jack refuse to leave me alone – every time I try to come up with a new set of characters, they start whispering (in very loud voices) in my ear and I can’t concentrate.

Still, I have eight more days to come up with something. That’s plenty of time, right…?

I don’t mean to sound defensive, but after numerous reactions to our new living situation that have bordered on rude (“Oh, really? When do you think you’ll be able to afford an apartment again?”) I wanted to clear up the misconception we can’t afford to do anything else. Granted, I understand our choice is unconventional, and given our monthly bills are cut in half, it’s a normal assumption this was about money. While cost was definitely one of the check marks in the plus column, it wasn’t the deciding factor. This move was more about wanting freedom – financial, physical and spiritual.

To be fair, this lifestyle has many cons as well as pros, just like any situation. For us, the positives outweigh any inconveniences. As I said in my last blog, we felt we were in a rut. Our neighborhood was not at all kid-friendly – here, my kids are outside pretty much all the time, going here, there and everywhere, alone or with friends. We’re comfortable with their meandering since this is essentially a gated community with a ten mph speed limit.

In fact many things move slower here. Since space is limited, there is no reaching in the fridge to quickly grab the eggs – first I have to move the Parmesan cheese, the bag of leftover Jasmine rice and the tomato before pulling out the egg carton. Breakfast becomes a gentle waltz instead of a frenzied rave dance.

We can’t let dirty dishes pile up – there’s simply no place to put them, and we only have a few to begin with. Same with leftovers – our fridge is so small it’s hard for things to get pushed to the back and forgotten. Also, no more stocking up at the grocery store, which means our food is always relatively fresh and there’s much less waste.

Our toilet is the standard camper type, but that means we control how much water we use each time. Pulling both levers opens the trap and rinses stuff down, then pulling the smaller lever fills the tank slightly to prevent any smell from creeping back up (since we drain our black water tank frequently, not usually an issue). And our gray water tank (water from the sinks and shower) is used to clean out the drainage hose after we’ve emptied the black water, so it’s all so very efficient.

The lights all require tiny bulbs, low enough wattage that if we lose power, they will still run off our battery backup. Our fridge automatically switches to propane if the electric goes out, so our food stays cold.

It takes less than five minutes to warm the entire place up, or cool it down with the central air (hey, the ac unit is mounted in the center of the ceiling, so it counts as central air in my book… *grin*).

We only have enough hot water to take between five and ten minute showers – however, it only takes five minutes for the water to reheat, so those of us with longer hair are still able to get all the conditioner out, and we’re all learning to shut the water off while soaping up.

The lack of cable TV hasn’t been as bad as anticipated – hubby & I had date nights at the rec center (with its free WiFi) over the summer to stay current with True Blood, and at our next campground we’ll have access to television again, so we can catch up with our other shows during inclement weather. As it is, we’ve revisited some favorite movies and series whenever the urge to sit and veg arises – my younger two even now laugh when I say, “Tomorrow is a rest day” on Wednesdays (last day of hubby’s work week).

I asked hubby what he considered one pro and one con. He said watching the kids thrive is by far the best thing about this experiment of ours, and the black water tank (a story for another day) is his nemesis. I agree on both counts (although the tracked-in sand tends to be the villain I battle the most).

Now, our daughters and son graciously agreed (okay, so maybe I made it a writing assignment) to contribute the following insights. I’ll leave you with their words and a request – if you’re curious about any aspect of our adventure, please feel free to shout out in the comment section. Given how many questions we pelted our poor friends with, I’d be happy to return the favor.

The Youngest (11 years old) – My favorite thing about living in a camper is my bunk, or “Cubby”, because it’s so big it feels more like a bedroom rather than a bunk. I have a lot of drawings taped up on the walls. I also like the outlets in it. There are only two but it helps a lot.

What I don’t like about living in the camper is the tiny bathroom. There isn’t much space for my bathroom necessities but it’s better than nothing. The shower isn’t very easy to use because you have five minutes of hot water and it’s probably a few feet width and length. That’s why I usually use the bathhouse showers because they are even smaller but it has steaming hot water for about an hour.

The Boy (14 years old) – My favorite thing about living in a camper in a campground is being able to go hang out with friends and being able to do stuff like bike around or go to places like the rec center, arcade, pavilion or playground, and I can’t think of anything else to say so I’m typing this.

The thing I like the least about living in a camper at a campground is the tight living space like how small my bunk is. It’s about half the size of my sisters and has no outlets to plug into and is really annoying to get in and out of.

The Eldest (16 years old) – My favorite thing about living in the camper is be able to leave all day and get a break by just hanging out with my friends all day. There’s so many places I walk to like the playground and the arcade and I’ve meet a lot of new people here.

My least favorite thing about living in the camper is how little space there is. I mean, it’s not that bad, but it’s a huge diff going from living in a 1,000 square foot apartment to living in a 300 square foot camper. It was really a huge change for everyone.

In July, we were living in a two-and-a-half bedroom, two bath apartment. We had about 1,000 square feet of living space, filled to the brim with items we’ve been toting around for the better part of two decades. Huge kitchen table we didn’t eat at most nights because it was covered in clutter. A living room we always meant to clean out so it didn’t feel so claustrophobic when we gathered to watch TV/eat/play on the computer. A master bedroom closet with a pile of clothes we no longer wore, but hadn’t sorted through yet, blocking the doors. So. Much. Stuff.

Now we’re in a 240 square foot camper with three regular beds (two bunks and a full sized bed), two pieces of furniture that convert to beds (couch and kitchen table) and one bathroom. The monthly rent we paid for the apartment just about covered staying at this campground for two and a half months. Everything we own fits into this camper and a ten by ten storage unit, which we intend to downsize in the very near future.

The reason we did this? Hubby and I had many discussions over the past few years, alone and with our three kidlets, about how we felt we were in a rut. We hated the neighborhood we lived in, were annoyed by the things the landlord neglected to address, and barely scraped by from paycheck to paycheck. We daydreamed about leaving almost everything behind and running away to various places (Arizona, California, Ireland to name a few), but couldn’t see a way of making it work.

Then early in 2010, a friend of mine, her husband and two (also homeschooled) boys made a decision to get rid of everything, live at a local campground for the summer, then travel the south with their 20ft camper and tent for the winter to promote her recently published book . I followed their adventures on her blog and recounted the details to my hubby. We slowly changed our thinking from “if only” to “maybe if.” For example, “if only we could figure out a way to save money every month” morphed into “maybe if we downsize to a camper, we can start saving the money we used to spend on rent and build up a good nest egg”. In the summer of 2010, we took out a loan from our 401k and bought a 1999 Suburban, with the express idea that we could use it to haul a camper.

Over the winter, our planning turned more into wistful conversations about “maybe if we get a camper” instead of hard core list making, research and resource building. While we talked about the someday, I got the sinking feeling it may never come to pass, and we would be living in our cramped little corner, across from our toxic neighbors, forever.

When we got our tax return this year, we made the firm decision to use it to either move to a new apartment or buy a camper. After a quick perusal of available apartments (almost zero in our price range), I focused solely on campers on Craigslist. We began the long process of emailing, calling, researching, and being let down when each camper we considered fell through for various reasons. I’m fairly certain we checked out pretty much every camper advertised in two hour radius, only to come up empty-handed.

In the midst of it all, our landlord made the unexpected decision to make us re-sign a lease. We had one when we moved in during October of 2007, but the following year he didn’t bother with a new one, so we coasted along as tenants-at-will. Yet out of the blue, at the end of June, he told us we needed to sign a new lease, or vacate by August 1st. I had some big reservations about the new lease, especially since it seemed so cookie cutter and had things not pertinent to our apartment. Plus, the idea of signing a lease, but then having to turn around and give him 6 weeks’ notice before we left, knowing we wanted a camper as soon as possible, didn’t seem logistically possible. There were other, minor reasons we didn’t want to sign, and in my back and forths with him through email, I got more and more annoyed with what I thought was his unreasonable stance to my concerns.

Hubby and I finally decided to stop worrying about resolving the lease issue for a place we didn’t want to begin with, and to focus on trying to get our camper to find us (I knew it was out there, and it was only a matter of time before the Universe put it in our path). We even went as far as reserving a site at the local campground, in the hopes that sometimes it’s a good idea to put the cart before the horse. We didn’t need to put money down on the site until it was available on August 1st, so it seemed like perfect timing. Perfect, except for the fact we didn’t have anything to park on it. Oh, and a big shout out to the office staff at the park, who patiently answered my many questions (“Could we squeeze a 33 foot on our site?” “How about 35 footer”?) over the weeks between reserving and arriving.

How we finally ended up with the camper perfect for us, for the amount of cash we had, is a story for another blog – suffice to say, we were worried up until the very end it wasn’t going to happen, and we’d end up resigning a lease and being stuck in our rut for another year. But through a serendipitous turn of events, our camper arrived in our driveway on July 24th, and all of us, including Sid (our cat) and Eddie (our dog) slept in it that night. Okay, technically the hammies (Sweetness and Sniffles – we lost Panda a few days earlier) stayed in the apartment that night, but they joined us soon thereafter.

I somehow thought procuring the camper would be the tough part, and getting rid of all our stuff would sort itself out…umm, not so much. If it weren’t for the Amazonian efforts of our eldest daughter (who took many tasks upon herself without being asked) and hubby’s sister (who cleaned the apartment top to bottom on our last day there, even though we were still moving stuff out around her), I get the feeling we’d still be knee-deep in packing boxes today. And in yet another amazing turn of events, our landlord graciously allowed us an extra week to get the rest of our stuff out, without charging us (although we did offer him our almost brand new washer and hand-me-down dryer in exchange, and he happily accepted… I <3 bartering!).

It took us a couple of weeks to adjust, especially since most of our first week was spent still moving. When all was said and done, we'd made close to a dozen trips to our local Goodwill, had a few Freecycle pickups, countless grocery bags dropped off at the NH Food Bank box, more than a few bags of clothes to Planet Aid, and still had a shameful amount of trash that now lives at the local landfill. So I guess it’s not surprising even with the small living space, I no longer feel claustrophobic – and even with how little we brought with us, we’re still weeding stuff out.

While we’re still not on easy street money-wise, I figure we’ll be there sooner rather than later – at the moment, we’re still playing catch-up with bills, buying things for the camper, and splurging on the occasional luxury items (like a family breakfast at a local restaurant). When I crunched some numbers, I figured out with the price of the camper, plus monthly park rent and utilities, it will take us until the end of December to break even on our investment. . Of course, if we go by monthly expenses alone, we’ve already chopped everything in half.

Beyond the money, I keep pinching myself when I realize we now live full time in a place where people come for their vacation. I posted on Facebook not too long after our arrival, “living in a camper is like finally having that super cool clubhouse you wanted when you were a kid.” Hubby and I sit by the fire Saturday nights while our kidlets hang out at the weekly themed dance with their friends, new and old. The kidlets are also so much healthier after spending huge chunks of each day riding their bikes, scooters, or walking down to the beach, playground or arcade. Hubby and I have also dropped a few pounds, and Eddie has trimmed out. Sid, on the other hand, has gained weight from his steady diet of chipmunks and mice.

Up next – we’re giving winter camping in New Hampshire a shot. We know our camper has already wintered at least one year with its previous owners, coincidentally at the very same campground we’re heading to in little over a week. There have already been a few chilly nights here, and we were very happy with how well the heat worked – it was a bazillion times more cozy than at our apartment.

We’ve had some practice being “stuck” all day & night inside, thanks to the recent rain systems that parked on top of us. Even without our boy’s Xbox 360 (damn you, red ring of death!), random internet service at our site (thank you Sprint Mobil hot spot, but damn you being limited to one phone!), and with only our Blu-ray player to keep us company, we managed quite nicely. At our new digs, we’re supposed to have great Wi-Fi at our site, along with Cable TV hookups – plus, our friends plan to spend some time there too, so I’m not worried about being stir-crazy… yet… *grin*

After a few months of winter camping… a move to Virginia may be next. Stay tuned…

Instead of the blog entry I had prepared, talking about the new lifestyle my family has chosen, I’ve written an account of the standoff at our new home. A few different news reports have come out about the events of Sunday, September 3rd (here, here and here), but this was such a surreal experience, I wanted to share how things transpired from my perspective. Fair warning – this is going to be a long entry, full of “tell” not “show,” since it’s an accounting of the events. While I do use some quotes, this is done from memory so needless to say the phrases won’t be exact, but hopefully are in the spirit of what was actually said.

For us, the story began Wednesday, August 31st. For pretty much the entire month since we’d moved in, we’d seen very little of our neighbor to the left, even though our campers were separated by only a few trees and maybe thirty feet. Because it was usually so quiet, it caught my attention when a truck pulled into the site. A couple men got out and talked to the guy in the camper. They were there for some time, at first walking around the site, then they started power-washing the camper, and even spread a big outdoor carpet on the road they hosed off as well. I said to our kidlets, “Maybe it’s some kind of pre-Labor Day ritual we don’t know about as newbie campers.”

Later that afternoon (okay, more like early evening, since it was around 6pm) the eldest and I headed to Market Basket. I texted hubby when we were heading home, and he replied he’d been talking to the neighbor, who said he was moving out and we could have the rest of his fire wood. When we got back, our younger two and Jim (my hubby) were still talking to the neighbor, who introduced himself as Mark. While the kids took the couple of wheelbarrows of wood over to our site, Jim and I chatted with Mark. Turns out we were kind of neighbors for four years on Moulton Street – we were at 11 and he was at 5, which doesn’t sound all that close, but because of the way the road curved, he was only two houses away from ours. In fact, we realized we’d called the fire department on him before when we mistakenly thought his garage was on fire (he was burning leaves in his back yard… oopsies).

He told us he’d been living in the camper for (I think) about a year – he and his ex-wife had been having issues, but they’d been working on them and they’d finally reconciled recently so he sold the camper to a friend of his (one of the men there the day before) for 11K, and was packed up to head home the following day. He chatted about a great deal of things – how he’d been with his wife since they were 14, and had two children and grandchildren together, and he was so happy to be back together. We talked about the hurricane evacuation, and he said he stayed on Moulton Street – his wife had said it would be silly not to, since he was moving back home soon anyway. He said it was such a shame we had to all meet on the last night he was there, and he hoped we’d stop by Moulton Street some time to have a beer around the backyard fire, since we couldn’t around the camp fire. After a fairly long conversation, we said goodnight, goodbye and good luck – he said his friend would be over to haul the camper in the morning, and he had his truck packed and ready to go.

The next morning (Thursday) was hubby’s day off, so after a leisurely morning, I looked out the window and realized the camper was still there. By Friday it still hadn’t moved, and Mark’s truck had come and gone a few times, but I hadn’t seen him out. Knowing it was Labor Day Weekend, I figured maybe the plans had changed because of the holiday. Saturday night, I went out to hubby’s work van to get his forgotten coffee mug, and saw Mark walking through his campsite… to be more accurate, stumbling through. I called to him, and it took him a moment to figure out where I was. I even said, “It’s your neighbor, over here by the van” to help him find his way. When he did, he came crashing through the small bit of woods between our campers, then leaned on the closest pine tree and announced he was too shitfaced to stand straight.

“Thank god for this tree or I’d be on my ass!” he said, by way of hello.

I laughed, and asked him what was up. He said he’d spent all day with the ex, so he needed to drink as much as possible to forget about it. I asked, “So the reconciliation isn’t going well?” and he said something incomprehensible, but it didn’t sound too positive. I asked what was up with the camper, and he said, “Oh my buddy’s coming to get it tomorrow.”

By this time, a couple pulled up on a golf cart. I called out to let them know where we were, since it was dark enough out that they’d have had a hard time seeing him. They came over and we talked for a few more minutes. Mark seemed like he was in bad shape, so I made my excuses, told them to have a nice evening, and headed back into our camper. A short time later, I noticed the three still sitting out at Mark’s picnic table talking, but didn’t notice when they left.

Sunday daytime was uneventful for us – no sign of Mark’s friend again, and his site was quiet. Around 6:30pm, I took a quick shower, and was hoping hubby remembered I’d asked him earlier in the day to pick up ice on his way home – it was super-hot, and the kids had powered through the two bags of ice we’d picked up two days before. My eldest came to the bathroom door to tell me they were home and their friend was with them (son of the couple who inspired us to try camper living). I said if they wanted to be forever traumatized by the sight of a naked old lady running through the camper to get the clothes she’d forgotten in the bedroom, they were welcome to hang around the kitchen table. For some reason, they decided to go back outside instead.

I’d just gotten dressed when my eldest came in again and said the park manager was across the street with the Raymond Police again. There had been some incidents at a nearby site, so that in and of itself wasn’t too surprising. I headed outside to see what was up – I noticed the police cars were parked on the opposite side of the street from Mark’s, not at the site I expected, and there were police moving through the sites and woods back behind those sites. My first thought was, “Great, someone probably robbed the 7Eleven or local bank, and tried to flee by foot through the woods.”

The park manager then walked down the road directly in front of our site and was saying to everyone, “Get in your campers, lock the doors and don’t come out until we say its safe.” I told the kids to quickly get inside – as soon as I said it, I noticed one of the officers grabbing an automatic weapon from his vehicle, and I started to get nervous.

After ushering the kids inside, I turned to lock the camper door, and noticed Mark walking through our site. He was about ten feet away from me, looked very unsteady on his feet, and it seemed like he was trying to get back to his site. I almost opened the door to warn him about the police situation – the words that popped into my head were, “Hey Mark, get in your camper and lock the door – there’s a something going on with the police over there in the woods,” but I hesitated. I knew how drunk he was, and I was afraid it would take too long to get him to understand. I didn’t want to be hanging my head out of my camper chatting while police were concerned enough to openly carry their weapons. I had an even briefer moment thinking I should tell him to come in the camper with us, but I dismissed that idea even faster, because I didn’t want him to be around the kids while in such a state. I finally decided the police and park manager were doing a great job of getting people quickly into their campers and I should let them handle him so, instead of opening the door, I flipped the lock.

The kids were whispering to each other, and their friend, who’d also noticed the gun, said he was going to call his mother. Two seconds later he said she was on his way to get him out. I got him to call her back and told her she couldn’t make it down our road (I heard security saying they were blocking traffic) and talked to her until I saw her headlights coming down the road down the hill from us. She asked if the kids and I wanted to hop in the car with her, and I hesitated as I thought about our animals. I knew Sid (our cat) would be fine, but there was no way I could get Eddie (our dog) him down the hill, even on a good day, and I had visions of canine units running around, looking for the perp, while he freaked out in our camper. But I wanted the kids to be somewhere safe, so I asked if it was alright to send the kids with her, while I stayed with Eddie. She told me essentially I was silly for asking because of course that was fine, although she questioned again if I wanted to come too. I told her I didn’t see this lasting long, so I thought it would be better if I stayed, then I opened the camper door to escort the kids to the hill. A guy from security sitting on his golf cart on the road in front of our camper asked immediately what we were doing. I said I was sending the kids to another site, and he said, “Good idea.” The kids quickly and quietly made their way down the hill. I noticed a couple of kids from the site below us were trying to climb the hill to see what the ruckus was all about, and my friend was telling them, in no uncertain terms, to get in their camper. It took their dad a moment to understand what she meant, but then he yelled at the kids to come back, and after a little arguing, they finally did.

I went back in the camper, locked the door, unplugged the nightlight in our bedroom, and peeked through my curtain. I opened the window a bit to see if I could hear anything, then quietly called hubby to fill him in. He said he was done with work, and was at the office cleaning out his truck. I warned him he wouldn’t be able to make it home, so to take his time and hang out there until I let him know the coast was clear. I also said I’d update him by text message, same as I was doing with our friend, so I could keep an ear out. I was in the camper for about 15 or 20 minutes, and I was catching stray phrases like “daughter reported he might have a gun” and “threatened” and “the demand”. Then I started thinking there might be a domestic issue in the campers across from us – everyone over in those sites seemed really nice, but it didn’t mean some relative didn’t come to visit and have a breakdown (yes, I spent a lot of time letting my imagine go crazy, trying to figure this out).

By this time, a couple of officers were standing over by their cars, and I was having a hard time seeing them from my bedroom window. I quietly moved into the living room and sat on my couch. I opened the window and lifted the shade to see if I could catch any more info. After a couple of minutes, I heard one officer call across the street, “Hey Mark buddy, why don’t you come out and talk to us so we can work this out?” I had one of those everything-moves-in-slow-motion moments as I looked to my left and saw, about 30 feet away, my neighbor Mark standing at the door of his trailer. He was yelling back to the cops he wasn’t doing anything until all the cop cars got out of there (I’m paraphrasing and leaving out the profanity). As the realization sunk in that the guy with the suspected gun was so close, and completely incapable of walking straight, let alone taking a straight shot, I was suddenly terrified.

I immediately called Jim, burst into tears, and whispered over the phone it was Mark who was “the situation.” Jim said he’d come home from work anyway, and was up at the camp playground (the established evacuation point), standing near the park manager. He then said to her, in a calm voice that somehow still conveyed his panic, “My wife is still in our camper.” I heard the park manager exclaim, “What? The police said everyone was evacuated. Hang on – I’m getting her out of there now!” Jim said, “It’s okay hon – she’s contacting the police down there, and they’ll come get you”. We talked for about a half minute – long enough for him to help me calm down and focus, then we said our usual, “Love you,” and hung up.

I peeked out the window to see if the police were walking up to the door, and I saw one officer taking cover behind our SUV, and another one walking around the side of our camper, towards Mark’s. Both were carrying big, black, automatic weapons. I kept reminding myself to breathe, and to not panic that it looked like they were using our car and camper as shields, because it was obvious they didn’t know I was in there. I put Sid in our bedroom and closed the door, after giving him a couple of kitty treats and an extra chin scratch. I got Eddie’s leash on, told him not to worry, and crouched down on the floor to wait.

In a minute that felt like an hour, I saw those two same officers, plus another, walk up to the camper door. One knocked and said, “Ma’am, you need to come with us.” I opened the door and said something ridiculous like, “No argument from me” through my hiccupy tears, and I quickly walked out with Eddie in tow.

The officers formed kind of a wall behind me, and walked me a short distance down the road. Then one said, “We need you to follow this road to the evacuation area. Walk quickly and don’t look back”. Fresh out of lame comebacks, I nodded, pulled Eddie along (he was desperate to relieve himself, but I didn’t want to take a chance), and walked down the road.

When I felt I was a safe distance, I let Eddie pee, then headed towards the playground. At an intersection, I saw a few security golf carts pull up next to each other and stop, so they could compare notes on what areas had been evacuated. I piped up with, “I was in the camper right next to Mark, and no one evacuated me until I called my husband” and I swear I saw faces turn white. Someone said something to the effect of, “let’s go through systematically again and make sure everyone in the area is out” as I was walking away. All I could think was how happy I was not to be in their shoes at the moment.

As I was walking towards the playground through the dusky light, I saw someone approaching me, carrying what looked like a bag of ice in one hand. I laughed and thought, “Of all days to remember to pick it up” and I walked even faster towards him. He hugged me for pretty close to forever, and whispered something that made me cry and smile at the same time (I’ll be dipped if I can remember now what it was). I noted the bag of ice in his hand, and he said, “There’s another one in my lunch box.” I laughed through my tears, and said I’d try to fit them both in, if he’d unlock his truck. I busied myself with the welcome distraction, while he filled me in on how the kids were doing while hanging out with our friends in the “safe” part of camp.

Eddie was staying calm, despite the excitement. We stood near the Comcast van for a few, listening to security as they talked back and forth to each other and the police, but it didn’t sound like much had changed, other than they were able to evacuate everyone possible, and were able to assist someone getting back to their campsite (not in the danger zone, but from what I could tell, there was a small part of the road on the way to their site in the danger zone) who needed to be on their oxygen tank since their portable was running out of battery life. I heard many of the campers near me grumbling about their meals still sitting on their grills or tables and how frustrated they were with having to wait. I knew we were lucky our three kidlets were able to be at their friends, but I was hopeful that if they had been there with us, we wouldn’t also be griping about the wait. I knew there was no way to rush things when someone is homicidal/suicidal, and I would hope the perspective that a man’s life was at stake would keep the grumbling to a minimum from all of us. Granted, there were a few around us who said, “The hell with my dinner, I’d rather not get shot, thank you very much,” but the complainers sang a much louder song.

We were at the playground with many of the evacuees for about five hours – during that time, some of the families left to go to the dance at the Pavilion (I figure management wisely didn’t call it off, because it was in the safe section of the campground and it provided a necessary distraction) or to another safe area where they were providing free hot dogs and hamburgers to all the families displaced by the crisis. We were told once we moved, we needed to stay put where we were, and I got the feeling they would rather we didn’t move at all if we didn’t need to, as long as we were out of the way . We stayed at the playground for a number of reasons – we didn’t want to add to the confusion of people moving from place to place; the biggest whiners were heading to those two places; and Eddie seemed pretty well tired out from all the excitement. I also had this irrational desire to rush back to the camper at the first possible second to make sure Sid was okay (which, needless to say, I didn’t vocalize at the time). So, as boring as it was to sit in the dark with the mosquitoes and occasional flashes of lightning, we knew since the kids were safe, we were better off for all concerned staying put. We ended up being in some great company – neighbors we hadn’t had chance to meet were sitting in the dark with us. One woman had been celebrating her birthday, and we ended up carrying the chairs and cooler from her site to the area behind the orange cones so we could all wait in some comfort.

We compared stories of what we knew about Mark, things we were finding out online and chatting in general to pass the time. I heard Mark had been drinking heavily all day, and at some point changed from his usual “mellow Mark” persona to a belligerent, angry man who threatened a number of people with a knife, and dared them to start something with him. He told more than one person he was going to kill them, and he allegedly had a gun either in his camper or his truck. There was also some talk he’d said something about wanting to commit “suicide by cop.” I had the sinking feeling this situation would not end well. In fact, I got a really bad juju feeling at one point – I was texting my friend, keeping tabs on our kidlets, so I know the time was 9:20pm, and it just seemed to her and I both like something really bad was about to happen.

We had a front row seat as police cars came and went, and the Southern New Hampshire SWAT team arrived. We heard a few scattered things from security, but they didn’t have much more information than we did, and were stuck between the police in charge, and the campers who, for the most part, were in Labor Day party mode and pretty well pissed off their fun had been interrupted. At one point we heard there was a minor riot over at the beach near the Pavilion – one of the campers was so angry (and drunk) he went after one of the camp employees, as if it were their fault Mark was having a breakdown.

By around midnight, it didn’t sound like this standoff wouldn’t end any time soon, and the bad juju feeling was long gone. Our friends said they had put mattresses and blankets in their tent and we were welcome to crash at their site for the night, dog and all. Since things seemed to be fairly quiet, I went up to one of the security guards and asked if it were okay for us to head to a site in the safe zone, and if so, could he give us a ride in his golf cart. He very kindly said, “Sure, hop on in,” so Jim, Eddie and I got a lift through the dark and quiet campground.

We arrived at our friend’s site, and they kindly had pizza and garlic bread ready for us to munch on. As we scarfed down a few pieces, we each took turns filling everyone in on what had happened during the ordeal. Knowing it was late, and knowing it had already been a long night, we turned in fairly soon after we arrived (after one last trek out to find some medicine for a kidlet headache – our friends were all out, but in no time flat, we’d found someone from security who had some stuff and was more than happy to help us out). Eddie was a bit distressed to begin with, but as soon as the kids snuggled him, he got comfortable and fell asleep.

We had just quieted down (a little after 1am) when our friend came out of the camper and said quietly, “I don’t think you’re asleep yet, are you?” We said, “Nope, what’s up?” She said she’d gotten a call from someone who had a site near ours, and they were being allowed back. The police ultimately used tear gas to end the standoff, and the report was Mark was being booked, and then brought to the hospital for evaluation. While we were very appreciative of the hospitality shown to us by our friends, we decided to walk back to our site – she offered to drive us, but since we weren’t sure if the roads were still blocked, or crazy busy, we decided to hoof it.

There was a light, misty rain as we made our way back through the eerily quiet campground. Given the time, the craziness of the day, and now the weather, I expected everyone to be silent and borderline grumpy on our trek – instead, we had an almost magical time winding our way through the dark paths, stopping briefly on the shore of the river to admire the gorgeous night sky.

When we got back to our camper, I was amazed by how normal everything appeared – there was virtually no sign anything had happened. Sid was very happy to see us, and I found he’d made a bit of a nesting spot in the pillows of our bed, but he didn’t seem too freaked out or stressed. Our fridge has propane backup, so the hours when the power was cut didn’t affect our food. We all tried to settle in – however, the walk gave us a second wind, so it was almost 4am before we all managed to get to sleep.

When we woke up early the next afternoon, there seemed to be a parade of vehicles going past our site – everyone wanted to check out where it happened, and compare notes. Hubby and I were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and trying to convince ourselves we were awake, when we noticed someone was digging through stuff in Mark’s truck. My first thought was, he’d sent a friend by to get things he needed, but the guy almost looked like Mark from behind. Jim and I agreed there was no way at 2:30pm the next day he’d be free to be roaming around, so I decided to call the main office. It went straight to voicemail so I left a brief message saying someone was going through Mark’s truck, and was now heading inside the camper. After I hung up, I heard Jim and the eldest saying, “Oh my god – it is Mark!” We figured the police must have driven him over, so we went outside to see – no sign of any police, but there were a few golf carts parked by the side of the road down by the bath house. We walked over to see what was up. One person said they saw a taxi arrive and drop Mark off, and we all tried to wrap our brains around the fact he was already back, and figure out how the hell he’d managed to be free so soon.

After only a couple of minutes of speculation, the police and park manager arrived. Jim, the eldest and I started to walk back up to where they were. I called over to the manager something along the lines of, “So, never mind about the message I left you since you obviously already know” and she nodded. A detective walked over to us and asked if we’d seen Mark. I gave him a brief rundown of what we saw, and he thanked us and asked us to please clear the street. I went back in the camper (ostensibly to listen at the window), but hubby and daughter hung out at a respectful distance next to our car.

I heard the detective explaining to Mark there was a restraining order on him, prohibiting him from being on camp property. I heard Mark reply, “but I got no place else to go” and I realized he somehow thought he was just going to pick up where he left off. I was shocked and a little sad that he didn’t seem to grasp how serious this was. Mark also said something about having blacked out, and claimed he couldn’t remember the night’s events. I later found out he still had the IV plug in his arm from his very brief hospital stay. The manager and police quickly took control – the detective called the ex-wife to see of Mark could stay with her temporarily, and someone on security drove their personal vehicle over to tow the camper to the public parking lot so Mark could arrange to have someone pick it up the next day. That only left Mark’s truck – because it had a breathalyzer lock, it was decided Mark would have someone pick it up the next day as well (I believe the manager told him something about needing to let them know a time frame). In relative short order, the police said they’d give Mark a ride and escorted him to the cruiser while security hitched the camper and drove it out. Sure enough, the very next day a man arrived and drove off in Mark’s truck, and I noticed the camper was gone from the parking lot soon thereafter.

In discussions with many people over the next few days, I got the impression Mark was able to go free because after he’d been booked on charges and posted bail, he checked into a hospital for observation – however, and I’m not sure on the specifics, there’s something about New Hampshire being a voluntary commitment state, so any time he wanted to check out, he could. If anyone out there has any further insight on how he could be out of custody so soon, please feel free to either comment below or send me an email.

From my perspective, the reason this story didn’t end with a gunshot is due to the way law enforcement and camp staffers handled everything. I’ve heard the griping about how it shouldn’t have taken that many people that long to get one drunk and despondent guy out of his camper. While I can understand the viewpoint (and I admit I wondered if too many I’s and T’s were being dotted and crossed), I think second-guessing and Monday morning quarterbacking leads to nothing but hard feelings among those affected by this – especially the people who deliberately put themselves in harm’s way to make sure all the campers (including Mark) were still around to enjoy Labor Day. I know it might seem counterintuitive for this self-proclaimed Libertarian to appreciate and defend the large police response to this small-ish incident, but after seeing how unruly some of the campers became, and how difficult it was to maintain the safe zone perimeter, I don’t think the number of officers was at all unreasonable. Yes, there is something to be said for the “if people are dumb enough to try to sneak back to their campers, they deserve what they get” school of thought, but I can’t help picturing a scenario where an officer gets distracted by a drunken camper desperate to get back to his steak before it dries out on the grill, and the ensuing commotion causes Mark to wildly fire at noise, killing the officer and camper in the process (did I mention we sat in the dark for a long time and I had plenty of time to speculate?).

So, to make a long story short (yeah, yeah – I know), while this experience had all the potential for disaster, thanks to the efforts of those in charge, tragedy was averted. I only wish everyone would take a moment, and try to see the events from a different perspective… maybe put themselves in the shoes of the desperate man who feels he’s out of options; of the park manager risking her life trying to protect families from danger while getting screamed at and blamed for the whole situation; of the daughter, grandchild, or former partner of a man who may die at any moment, listening to people calling for him to “shoot himself already so we can get back to our campsites”; of the parents of young kids abruptly ushered off their vacation site and told to please stay put indefinitely; of the security guard who signed up for a summer job at a family resort, now having to put themselves in harm’s way to evacuate people who, in some cases, are verbally abusive and worse; of the police who have a procedure to follow and skipping steps could mean someone dying. Then next time you see the harried mother of young children in the grocery store losing her cool, or the guy flipping you the finger as he passes you on the highway, or the alleged murderer waiting on death row – maybe you’ll see things in a whole new light.