Milk Can Chaos

Mr. C. Cow likes to collect antique milk cans. Do to the cans being so large and unable to fit into the camper properly we usually have to ship them back to our home base. I think that we probably have a few thousand milk cans just hanging out in a barn out back of our house somewhere. None the less Mr. C. Cow keeps collecting them anytime he sees one that tickles his fancy.  It’s getting to the point that we’re either going to have to buy a second barn or he’s going to have to start giving people milk cans for the holidays.

Today was, in all honesty, the perfect day for Mr. C. Cow to go antique milk can hunting. We had found the perfect seaside town brimming with antique malls and I was itching to try out my new portable submarine I bought on dbay (or is it gbay? I can’t remember.).

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This submarine had all of the bells and whistles. Radio that got a signal underwater, sweet paint job, seats that accommodated someone of my short stature. I’ve never actually driven a submarine before so I was careful to not run into the various sea creatures, boats, and shoreline I would quickly come up to.

I would like to apologize to that large sailboat I ran up on quickly while screaming “Stop Submarine!!  STOP!!”. I wasn’t sure where the brakes were and thought they might just bow down to my commands. Sorry about that.

When it was time to leave I had figured out everything from doing donuts to quickly maneuvering around fish. Mr. C. Cow had come away with not one or two milk cans but at least twenty-seven. I tried fitting them all in the camper. Some sat in the shower. Others were stuffed under the bed. I even tried to put one in the glove box but it wouldn’t fit. I’m afraid to take all of these milk cans to the post office for shipping because it will probably cost me more then they are worth just to send them back home. I’m not upset with him buying milk cans (I did just buy a submarine off of an auction website). I’ll pay the shipping costs to keep him happy. After that I’m finding him a help group for milk can collection addiction issues. Or at least talk him into sending a few to friends.


“Tipsy” Cerulean

Second Life Location: Half Hitch Harbor (Part Of The Blake Sea) (M)


Doom Hike

Mr. C. Cow and I decided to take a night hike the other day. Try to find some nocturnal animals like an owl or two. Have a conversation with a bat. After this last night hike I have decided that Mr. C. Cow is no longer allowed to pick the path we take. At least until he figures out that not all paths are good paths.


Well…that doesn’t scream “Fun Hike”.

You cannot, seriously, feel that walking down a path lined with nothing but forbidding darkness, a feeling of certain destruction, and some sort of weird crying statues is a good idea.


Really Mr. C. Cow?

He was just humming away trying to do some sort of funky owl call (It mostly involved a lot of “Mooo Hooooo….Mooo Hooo” sounds. Do cow owls exist?). Having a grand old time. Not thinking about the fact that we were walking into some really scary looking places in the middle of nowhere.


You SERIOUSLY want me to walk around that? 

I can understand how some people (and cows) can look at things and positively spin it no matter how it might look to others. What I can’t understand is how an individual (Mr. C. Cow in particular) can look at a path full of weeping, broken statues, and think it’s the best place to look for nocturnal animals that won’t try to eat you.

Halfway through our doom hike we came to a large body of water that was full of skeletons trying to get out. I’m running around in circles making an “Ahhh Ahh Ahhhhhh!!!!” sound while Mr. C. Cow pays them no mind. He just thinks the water got too cold to swim in so they were exiting to dry off.


I don’t think they own towels. 

The last straw in our hike of pure terror was when Mr. C. Cow stopped to ask a large sea creature for directions to the nearest snack bar. They were nice enough but it seemed to me that every time we turned around to look in the direction they were pointing a tentacle would attempt to grab us. Mr. C. Cow thought they just had a mind of their own. I just thought they had a mind to grab us and plunge us into an underwater grave.


Snack Bars That Way!

Somehow, against all odds, we made it safely back to the camper. Somehow Mr. C. Cow was able to find a nice snack bar. I can appreciate someone who sees the glass as half full but his chipper optimism sometimes borders on dangerous. Next time we go on a hike I’m picking the trail.

“Tipsy” Cerulean

Second Life Location: Calas Galadhon’s ‘Neverland’ (M)

Open until Halloween so visit before it’s gone!

Haunting On The Lake

Every year Mr. C. Cow and I stop the camper at the Twin Lakes State Park in Virginia and take a few days to help them set up their “Haunting On The Lake”. It’s a really scary haunted trail you can hike for two days during the month of October.


Last  year when we stopped to help get the trail ready Mr. C. Cow tried spray painting his tongue glow in the dark instead of the scary object he was suppose to paint. I QUICKLY stopped him and informed him that paint goes on a scary object. Not on a tongue. He was really disappointed that he could not make his tongue glow. I’ve been trying to find him some sort of non-toxic tongue paint this year but it has proved to be difficult. He’s just going to have to wear glow in the dark hairspray or cow hide spray or whatever.


SPOOKY Picture We Took Last Year While Peeping At People Across The Lake.

This year we haven’t had any mishaps with spray paint (We didn’t let him have any.) but he did try to lick all of the hay bales. It’s hard to tell a cow they can’t lick hay but have to use it as decoration. Using hay as decorating material???!!!???  It does not compute in a cows brain.

What we did find is that Mr. C. Cow does a wonderful job of carrying equipment around. He, also, is really handy with an electric drill. If there was things to drill he was there like some sort of Halloween decorating super hero.

We can’t wait to see how everyone loves this years haunted trail. Mr. C. Cow is especially excited as he is planning on dressing as a human being. I’m not exactly sure how he’s going to pull this off but I’m curious to see how he does. Hopefully Mr. C. Cow doesn’t lick any hay bales while people are watching.

“Tipsy” Cerulean

This is a REAL thing that is put on every year at Twin Lakes State Park in Virginia. (Click on the park name for their webpage and more info about the park.) Mr. C. Cow and I HIGHLY recommend that you visit if you are in the area. We help out/go every year and it’s always a lot of scary fun!

It runs from October 21st-22nd 2016. 

The trail is open from 6pm-10pm Friday And Saturday 

There is also a fall festival to go with the haunted trail on Saturday October 22nd that runs from Noon-4pm. It’s a great thing to take smaller children to that don’t want to get scared by the haunted trail.

I would like to give a big thank you to those that work really hard each year to put this on. Thank you!

There is a Friends Of Twin Lakes Facebook page you can check out as well if you have any questions or would like to stay informed.

Stingy Jack

Halloween is almost upon us so Mr. C. Cow insisted that we buy a few pumpkins to carve. The logistics of pumpkin carving/decorating is interesting when you’re traveling/living out of a camper so I told him we could get one large pumpkin and rig it up to be some sort of holiday hood ornament.


After much thought and, weirdly enough, interviews, Mr. C. Cow finally picked one perfect pumpkin to be his masterpiece for the season. Contrary to popular belief (Is there even a belief in this?) a cow can, SERIOUSLY, carve the heck out of a pumpkin. If you want a  Pumpkinham Lincoln…yeah..he can do it. Creepy face…bah….too easy for a cow. It’s something about their hoofs. They can carve fruit magic.

After  a bit of lunch and wandering around Mr. C. Cow spent a good part of an hour trying to figure out exactly what carving most represented himself. I tried to explain that you don’t really need to take the pumpkin carving art as an extension of yourself and the easiest thing was to just make triangle eyeballs but he was having none of it. While he thought about the proper way to carve some sort of masterpiece I’ll just fill the time with more postcards.

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After I took a lot of postcard pictures for all of you I came back to an exhausted cow who looked like he had just painted the Sistine Chapel in one day.

Mr. C. Cow had carved a simple face into his pumpkin. Triangle eyes. Triangle nose. Didn’t seem so scary but when he explained that was a drunkard named Jack I didn’t much feel like putting this pumpkin on my camper hood as some sort of decoration. I don’t take to the whole myth/folktale/what not but any decorated pumpkin with a back story wasn’t going on my grill. Lucky for me Mr. C. Cow was easily distracted the promise of a candied apple and a picnic dinner that I didn’t have to bring that backstory pumpkin of forbidding anywhere near the hood of my camper. Saved by the sweets I guess.

I am REALLY glad that Mr. C. Cow is creative, unique, a cow individual. His love of art kinda outweighs his love of being bribed by sweets. I just need to find a way for him to not carve historical myths into his pumpkins during Halloween. Just to be on the save side.

“Tipsy” Cerulean 

Second Life Location: Devil Duck Halloween (M) – The decorations you see in photos should just be around for the holiday seasons. Which means…go before it goes away.

Who the heck is this “Stingy Jack” we speak of. Here is the wiki. 



Butterscotch Cures All

Mr. C. Cow got a paper cut on his tongue today. He is an avid “Letter To The Editor” writer kinda cow and likes to mail a lot of letters out. I keep trying to tell him to just use email but he likes the idea of someone having to take his message to the receiver. Do to the massive amount of letters he was sending today his tongue got a tiny little cut on it from all of the envelope licking. It bled for, about, three seconds then stopped. Instead of doing the normal thing he started to panic.

Mooo My God! I’m bleeding! Call the national guard! Call emergency services! Call my lawyer!

Ok. He didn’t really say any of that but he was pretty dramatic about the whole thing. To appease him we stopped in the nearest town to find a drug store that sold something that would make his tongue feel better. (I told him that lollipops would make him feel better.) Mr. C. Cow felt that a professional doctor in a hospital would be more appropriate to administer the proper lollipop dose.

Oh Boy!

The town we ended up stopping at didn’t seem like a very good place to find sound medical advice or a lollipop. I voted that we keep on moving and he just take a butterscotch candy and rest. OH NO! He was determined to seek medical attention. That’s when we ran into this place…..


I’m not joking when I tell you that I REALLY didn’t want to enter this joint. It looked like no one had bothered to mow the lawn in centuries and, seriously, I was afraid that all of the crows were going to poop on the camper. Nothing against crows…I just don’t want to deal with their shenanigans.

After wandering around in a place that probably was not a legit hospital (I mean….there was a lot of dust!) we finally found a doctor that looked like he was operating a little bit on the shady/crazy/no medical license/insane side.


The doctor “examined him” then declared that the best course of action was a complete tongue replacement. I quickly vetoed this idea. I mean…look at the guy he was working on!!!! I don’t thing he had very good insurance as I don’t think he was getting the exact treatment he was looking for. To the protests of Mr. C. Cow I quickly dragged him outside where we ran into this unusual gentleman.


I jumped back, not out of fear, but because he surprised me out of nowhere. Mr. C. Cow wasn’t scared and started in on this story about how he got a paper cut on his tongue and was afraid that he was either going to have to replace it or stop writing letters to editors. I started to explain to Mr. C. that a butterscotch candy would work just find in place of a medical doctor. The nice stranger winked at me and agreed. Pleased that we had found a “second opinion” Mr. C. Cow agreed to get back in the camper, take the butterscotch candy, and let us get the heck out of this creepy town.

I love Mr. C. Cow more then a martini on a jazzy kinda day but sometimes he’s a tad bit stubborn. Especially when it comes to paper cuts.

“Tipsy” Cerulean

Location: Halloween Storm (M)

Be sure to check this Second Life location out before Halloween is over. 

Cupcake Crisis

Mr. C. Cow and I were driving around looking at the fall foliage when we had this sudden urge to eat cupcakes. We’re not exactly sure how or if looking at autumn colors has anything do with cupcakes. Mr. C. Cow said looking makes you hungry for something pretty. I’ll go with his explanation.

We stopped in a small town that looked like it would have one of those fancy cupcake shops and realized that every single resident was a skeleton.


Not only were they skeletons but they didn’t seem to have a shop that sold cupcakes.


Right then and there Mr. C. Cow fainted. It wasn’t because the town was inhabited by skeleton people. It wasn’t because there seemed to be skeletons coming out of the road. It wasn’t because there was a skeleton that was stuck up in a tree. (I’m assuming that he ended up there by the bird next to him. Hope he’s ok. I tried poking him with a stick but he was stuck up there pretty good.)

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Mr. C. Cow fainted because there wasn’t a single cupcake to be found. No store with cupcakes. Not even the public market seemed to carry any. I quickly got him awake by waving a store bought baked good under his nose. Don’t worry as he was shaken up but fine.

Using my awesome powers of coming up with the most reasonable explanation I decided no cupcakes were the reason the entire town was full of skeletons. No cupcakes means that everyone just kinda wasted away into nothing. Who says that baked goods don’t save lives? Nobody. That’s who!

I safely got Mr. C. Cow into the camper, gave him a cookie I found in a cupboard, and proceeded to drive him to the nearest town with a cupcake store. I hope he never has to suffer a bake good related fainting ever again!

“Tipsy” Cerulean

Location: Spirit Creek (M) 

Alternate Transportation

You can’t drive a camper across a bridge if their isn’t a complete bridge. Campers cannot jump a bridge like some sort of action movie. They are too heavy and can’t drive fast enough.


You would think that someone in the road construction business would put up more barriers then a sign informing us a few feet from the drop that the bridge is out. The lights on the sign weren’t blinking so that’s, clearly, a safety issue. We’re lucky that it wasn’t dark out!

The sign says that we can click for “Alternate Transportation”. Mr. C. Cow thought this meant that a GIANT BIRD would swoop down, pick up the camper, and safely put it on the other side. I just thought it would give you a map for a different route. I kinda like his creative transportation better.

Before backing the camper up to a safe distance where we could turn around (which happened to be, at least, two miles of driving backwards) Mr. C. Cow jumped out of the camper to check out the edge of the bridge. I’m not a fan of half crumbling bridges mixed with heights so I thought he was being a tad bit nuts. To satisfy his curiosity we took a picture of the edge of the bridge and one of him posing with a sign.

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I agree with the sign. I can’t look either. 

Lesson here? If you’re doing bridge work don’t put your safety signs right before a large drop into a body of water. Campers have brakes but they don’t stop on a dime.

“Tipsy” Cerulean

Location: Route 8 In Darvos (G)