What's in a name?

I wanted a new name for my trailer.  Unfortunately, I opened it up to my family for discussion.  When you want to maintain some control over something, never ask your family for their opinions.

My husband wanted to call it "Cardinal Sin"  because it  is a Cardinal trailer masquerading in a Shasta stripe. There is no way I am sleeping in something called "Cardinal Sin".  At least, not with my family in tow! Yikes!

My 13 year old daughter wanted to name it "Minnie"  because it is tiny and she loves anything Disney.  I told her that was a great idea if it was red and black. Actually, I wish that I had thought of the Disney idea first...

My 24 year old daughter wanted to keep it "Trixie" but I had already crossed that off the list.

And my son.  He takes the cake.  We were discussing names that reference its lovely blue/turquoise color.

And he came up with...(wait for it)...
Uranus.
Because Uranus is a large, blue, gassy planet....
URANUS???
As in... "Look! there goes Uranus down the road"
and
"We could go camping in Uranus"

That kid is hilarious.

I couldn't stop laughing.  Believe me, there is a lot of funny material with calling the trailer Uranus - 

most of it involving seventh grade humor. 

Uranus...that is just the best.

Unfortunately, soon it became apparent that the name Trixie stuck was going to stick...dang it!

 Darn that Madisen! she has a way of naming things in such a way that the name forever sticks. 

It is the advertising major in her, I suppose.  So, (begrudgingly) Trixie it is.

 I remember reading Trixie Belden books when I was in the fifth grade and really liked them.
 That was before I discovered Nancy Drew.
 I love Nancy Drew. Secretly, I still think that I am Nancy Drew...just ask any of my family.  They call it being snoopy...I call it being curious. It is then that they point out that I have binoculars in the upstairs window.  I tell them that it is because I am nearsighted and can't see anything good without them.
Somehow, that probably isn't the best logic.

 But, anyway, I have good memories of readingTrixie Belden so I guess I'm ok with Trixie.  

I'm not sure if I survived. Check back tomorrow.

I am back from girls camp.

Oh, my heck.

That's Utah-speak for "I survived"

For the most part.

Things began to unravel quickly.  My assistant camp director called me when I was getting my hitch put on.  

Her brother-in-law died.  She wouldn't be able to go.  

While I was sad for her, I have to admit I felt selfish.  17 girls and me.  In the woods.  Alone.  No electricity.

Luckily, we had a great camp cook - so, at least, we wouldn't starve to death.

So, I pulled my big girls panties up and marched on.

My trailer was the first casualty.  It was going to have to stay home.  There was no way I was going on a maiden voyage with no backup and 17 girls staring at me to entertain them.

Honestly, girls camp was fabulous.  The girls were awesome.  Teenagers get a bad rap, sometimes.  But these girls were adventurous, kind, spiritual, inclusive, deep thinking.  Again. Awesome.  We had so much fun.  We hiked and whitewater rafted, canoes and paddleboated, did mani/pedis, had an outdoor movie (Yes - we had no electricity - we ran a car for an hour and a half) on a giant outdoor screen made of sheets.

High above Flaming Gorge

Rafting the Green
See the man on the right? That is my brother that I steal  borrow stuff from.
I am standing behind him with my life vest still on.  I don't know why...

I had to sleep in a tent, which is no bueno.  My hubby *gasp* slept with me.  The scandal!  And during one night, our daughter had to sleep there too, because she had a stomach ache.  And the stomach ache felt so much better wedged between two overtired adults.  A two man tent with three people and our stuff. Also, remember that the hubsters is 6'6.  The whole night was a freak out moment of barely suppressed claustrophobia.

 Here I publicly state...I am not sleeping in a tent again.  So help me, God.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Mexico...

I do love cool paint.  Rustoleum brushed nickel, to be exact.  This is to be the color of my stripe.  Partially because my new car is silver and I want it to look simpatico.  So, I broke out my quilter's ruler and some tape and went to work.  That quilters ruler is cool too.  I must have my dad's blood running through my veins because that man could spend the whole day in the hardware store and just be tickled pink with all the cool things he could find.

Any who...
You've seen the before, so this is during...

And after....

Wow! Lookin' Good!

Don't you wish you had such a helpful dog?  

THEN...
as if this excitement wasn't enough...

I took my tiny turquoise trailer to the tire shop to get my bearings repacked.  You should have seen the look on the tire guys face when I pulled in...apparently they don't get many vintage trailers.
Two hours later, I got a call from Sean - the tire guy.  My axel is "unusual".  I asked if that was code for old. He said "yes" but that he knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy that could get me new bearings.
At this point, I figured that my new bearings were being bought from the back of a van in Mexico.
But, my brother (the one I steal  borrow stuff from) freaked me out by telling me stories of a buddy's horse trailer catching on fire (with the horses in it) because of faulty bearings.  So, I told Sean "Go for it" and the big one "Do I need to take my high blood pressure medicine before you tell me what it's going to cost?"
Long story short - Four days and $200.
In the meantime, I got a hitch put on my new Murano.  Riding in "Trouble" for more than an hour gives me the shakes and makes me hoarse from yelling over the diesel engine.  I have so many people say "Can your car pull that trailer?" Uhhhh.  Honestly, that question makes me nervous because I DON'T KNOW! ok?   I feel that I am well informed.  I researched and asked the dealer and both sources said "Yes"  My little trailer only weighs 1160lbs. plus tongue weight and my Murano can handle 3500 lbs. so I am in the clear.

 In theory.

"In theory" is such a gray area.

Sad

I won't see my boy for two years.  I will only be able to talk to him twice a year.  He will struggle, he will be homesick, he will be discouraged, he will want his mom, he will have people be mean to him.  But...He will grow into a man, he will learn to speak fluent Japanese, he will learn how strong and capable he really is, he will learn that the Lord loves him.
I love that kid.  The second the doctor laid him in my arms, I was smitten.  He was a momma's boy.  He was the one who finished my sentences and I was the only one who could make him smile when he was mad or upset.
I am so proud of him and how he has conducted his life.  Isn't the ultimate goal is to prepare our kids to live a good life and have the ability to take care of themselves without our help?  But, while my heart swells with pride, my throat swells with tears.  Good Luck, my boy.  I love you.

Two years seems like such a long time.