Spare Tires, Bingo Wings and Welsh Castles

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Back from a trip to the UK, we were no further forward. To complicate our already fuzzy plans, Jimmy had come down with shingles. Nerve pain, numbness and weakness in his leg forced him to walk with a stick which seriously curtailed his activities.

Should we continue? Could we continue? Could I take over the heavy process of hitching and unhitching the trailer? Desperate not to give up on our grand plan of seeing the contiguous 48 states while looking for the perfect place to live but considering Jimmy’s infirmity, we did the obvious. Nothing.

Look! Sunshine! 4th of July parade, Steilacoom WA
Look! Sunshine in Washington! 4th of July parade, Steilacoom WA

Blessed with sunshine in May and June in Washington, a state of great beauty but often dubious weather, it was a perfect excuse, if we needed one, to do nothing. In late July the weather reverted to wet with grey skies and cool temperatures which forced our hand.

We considered moving one state south to Bend in Oregon and to dither there for a while. It was on the list of places we were considering as a home port so it would be a constructive move, even if not in the right direction as the plan had been to head east.

One benefit of staying put for several weeks had been the convenience of swimming regularly. It gave me the opportunity to boost my sluggish metabolism and to try to lose a few pounds.

“Your arms are looking good,” himself told me.

“How do you mean?”

“You’ve got muscles.”

“You mean I’ve got big arms?”

“No, you’ve got nice arms.”

“Just bulked up.”

“Well, yes.”

“Great.”

“What?”

“I’ve been swimming to try to lose some flab around my middle. Not only have I put on weight, I’ve gained shot putter’s thighs and now you tell me I’ve got weight lifter’s arms.”

“What I said was that they looked good.”

“I guess there are worse things,” I said, making my bicep twitch a little while trying to work up some pride in my new sturdy physique.

“Yes, there are worse things, like bingo wings.”

“Bingo!”

“Well anyway, (after a pause where he’s thinking I wish I’d never said anything) I think you’ve got lovely arms and thighs and this bit too,” he said, poking his fingers three knuckles deep into my stack of spare tires.

I sighed in defeat. “I’ll just have to eat less.”

“You eat like a bird as it is.”

“Birds don’t have three glasses of Chardonnay with their dinner followed by ice cream and then chocolate before bed.”

“True.” At this point and before I could respond, his attention was totally riveted on the TV with the lowered brows and jutting chin that says, Don’t talk to me. I’m trying to listen to this.

It was Sharon Osborne on America’s Got Talent. He can’t stand either.

I know your game mister but I’ll let you off. I hadn’t much cared for our conversation anyway.

“So,” I began on a new topic, “shall we stay or shall we go?” That got his attention away from Sharon.

We went.

Next installment – Bend and Crater Lake.

12 thoughts on “Spare Tires, Bingo Wings and Welsh Castles

  1. Having seen you in personal…..you are soooo exaggerating any faults, at least in the physic dept….lol. The Welsh countryside looks beautiful. There are worse places one could call ‘home’. I’m looking forward to your posts on Oregon.

    Like

      1. I have been mulling over your comment over my coffee and realize that I have become so mid-Atlanticized (sorry, had to make up that word) that I’m never sure whether what I’m saying is American or English. I’m still not sure which side of the Atlantic bingo wings flaps on but if you check Google images you will be horrifying sure of what it means!

        Like

Please chat - put your two pennyworth in!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s