Hi, baby thing. Today, you graduated from high school. You got yourself up at 4:30 in the morning, got dressed, got your parking pass, had your cords and cap and gown all ready, drove yourself to the auditorium, parked, rehearsed, graduated, hugged your friends, hugged your teachers, and then drove your own car and met us out for brunch.

That slew of activities – none of which required any additional help on my part – got me thinking about all the things, big and small, that you have done over the past four years and how much you’ve grown.

Since freshman year, you  went from age 14 to 18. You went from riding the bus to driving a car. You went from “one of trumpets” in marching band to becoming a leader and someone the younger peeps looked up to. You found theater and stole the show in multiple ways – including taking over a last-minute role that included a solo and full dance number. You dealt with challenging teachers (bless their hearts) and had some amazing experiences with others, especially because you are the kind of kid that they love, remember, and go out of their way to encourage. You made art, so much cool art, and found your point of view in multiple different mediums.

You made friends. You busted your butt in classes, especially junior year. You had heart attacks (literally and figuratively.) You had crushes. You figured out who you really are and had the courage to become even more yourself. You learned how to do things in the way that works best for you and to ask, without apology, for what you needed.

You fed yourself breakfast. You put gas in your car. You took your kid sister to school as well as to Brewsters to get the gossip. You went to homecoming and to the prom and to late night Waffle House. You travelled the world, thanks to school trips (and by “the world,” I mean Disney World, of course, where you rode all the Star Wars rides before Daddy did.) You painted a mural in the library. You aced IB Lit. You got a fat scholarship and graduated with a huge tangle of cords around your neck. And if that wasn’t enough, you even went to go vote for the first time today, even though you’d been up since 4:30 for graduation.

The bittersweet thing about raising a kid is that one of the core goals is to teach them to function without you. You hold them up and feel so proud of them for every step, even while you know (and secretly hope) they will leave you in their dust. Their job is to beat their own path, and your job is to pay for the shoes they’ll do it in – from booties to cleats to black Converse high tops.

Oz, watching you walk through the world so far has been an unmitigated joy. You are one squared away little dude, as your father once said, and I have no doubt you’ll have a rich and beautiful future. I am grateful I get to be your mom, grateful to have you as my kid, and grateful I get to marvel at you being you, and I hope you know without a doubt how much we love you.

And when you’re ready for that next pair of shoes?  Kiddo, just call.

I know your size by heart.

You just need to tell me the style and color.

Originally posted on BlogSpot on Wednesday, September 24, 2008
​
Bowling Green/ Be Sure You Know How to Use Your “Comode”
 
















​Successful Acquisition:
So on Monday, we showed up at our local RV rental joint promptly at 1:00 p.m. to acquire the beast. We weren’t sure what to expect as far as RV training goes, but surprisingly enough you need little to no training nor a special driver’s license to drive an RV – a fact that makes me more frightened than ever to ride next to them on major highways. Before we could get the keys, we learned the ropes of the electrical, sewer, and water systems by watching a low-budget video hosted by a dude that talked like Johnny Cash (“You see, this here’s the e-lectric system – and if you get yourself an a-dapter kit, you can …”). After learning that grey water means sink water and black water is what comes out of the “comode” (spelled as such throughout the video), we hopped in the 33 foot Mirada with our names on it and were on our merry way.
 
Our plan WAS to leave Tuesday morning -- however, due to the crazy day we had and the sedative effect of the training video, we decided that was not really going to happen, so we opted to call Tuesday a packing day and sleep in our own bed one more night. We crammed our crap in over the course of the day Tuesday, and bright and early this morning, we saddled up for the first ride.(note the look of concern on Roxie's face as she gazes at the 18 wheelers
flying by just to our right)

The good news is, we successfully navigated all the way to Bowling Green, KY, safely out of the way of the gas supply shortage, and set up the beast in a lovely KOA campground just off the highway. Johnny’s little RV video turned out to be surprisingly helpful, and after about 20 minutes of fumbling and a little black water leakage as DJ fought with the sewage hose, we had power, water, and a functional toilet. After another 20 minutes of fumbling, DJ successfully hooked up the television, and we are now able to enjoy all 23 channels of basic cable, including two channels of CMT.

In fact, we were feeling so confident in our Rving abilities, that after taking in the sights at the RV park -- which included the mini-golf course, a dog run, and an inexplicable fenced off area that was decorated to look like a tiny farm, complete with ceramic pigs and roosters -- I made sloppy joes for dinner. This required lighting the stove, a live flame that’s fed from a tank filled with several gallons of highly flammable compressed propane (LP, in Rving terms), so I am very proud that we lived to tell the tale. Anyhow, so far, so good, as they say, and DJ and I are looking forward to drifting off the hum of the cars off the highway and prepping for day 2. Indianapolis, here we come!

Originally posted on Blogger on Sunday, September 21, 2008 

​Twas the night before pick up ...

​"When preparing to travel, lay out all your clothes and all your money. Then take half the clothes and twice the money."
~Susan Heller

As many of you know, dear friends and family, the Dobbses are about to embark on a little adventure. We have rented --for one FULL MONTH -- a 33-foot, class A recreational vehicle and are preparing as we speak to load up many of our worldly possessions, as well as our 10-month-old daughter Roxanne, and drive this vehicle through the vast wilderness we call America. Intended ports of call include Chicago; Twin Lakes, Wisconsin; Niagara Falls; Boston; Maine; New Jersey; Virginia Beach, and various other stops on a round trip from Atlanta; however, stop number one on the tour occurs tomorrow, when we pick up the beast and attempt to guide it safely to our driveway to load it full of crap.

To give you a small idea of just how much crap we will be taking, I'd like to call your attention to this photograph.

This is a glimpse of our dining room table, which holds ONLY the stuff we will be taking for Roxanne. Given that Roxanne's clothing is sized for someone 24 inches tall, you can extrapolate the sheer volume that this represents. I am not sure we will have room for much else, except for the burlap sacks marked with dollar signs that we've prepared to hand over at each gas station.


But, we are starting to get excited, and we all have our fingers crossed that DJ's impeccable driving skills and my quick skim of the multiple-page direction manual will soon have us on our way to steering 25,000 pounds of steel, glass, and canned goods in the direction of some old-fashioned fun.

Tomorrow, we ride!