Penny was on the dashboard again this morning, watching the golf carts go by. She has, without any fanfare or adjustment period, become an RV cat. I don’t know what I was worried about.
I sat with the first cup of coffee for a good half hour before I wrote anything in the journal. Sometimes the right response to a quiet morning is to just be in it rather than document it. The plans I’d made for this week — campground reviews, video ideas, content schedules — have mostly dissolved into something I wasn’t expecting, which is just genuinely enjoying being somewhere different from where I normally am.
The smallest things become an event out here. Cooking an egg outside requires assembling ingredients, navigating around the cat, setting up the propane stove, cooking, eating, and then doing the dishes. At home that’s a five-minute process. Out here it takes twenty and somehow feels more satisfying. I talked to my brother about this — he sells RVs for a living — and he said something like: that’s the whole point. The simplicity is the feature, not the bug.
All the Videos I Haven’t Made
I had big plans for this segment thru Florida, Mississippi and Alabama.
There were going to be campground reviews. Photography challenges. “Sounds of Travel” style B-roll experiments. A time-lapse of Penny every hour. I even brainstormed with ChatGPT for 20+ video concepts in case it rained the entire week.
Spoiler alert: not a single drop.
And you know what? I’m not mad about it. I’ve just been living the experience … cooking outside, cleaning up, navigating small-space life with a cat, and enjoying the slower pace. Every mundane thing feels a bit more meaningful out here. Making eggs feels like a ritual. Doing the dishes is peaceful. I’m not chasing content. I’m living in it.
Walmart Runs and Small-Town Dreams
I did make it to Walmart … twice.
Picked up a small propane grill. And a small charcoal grill. Because why not? I’m now armed for any outdoor cooking situation that might arise.
I also had one simple mission: find a refrigerator magnet from Alabama. It’s the only thing I’m collecting from every state. Not mugs. Not shirts. Just magnets. But no luck. Three stores, no magnet. I may have to settle for Amazon again.
On the way to try my luck in Fairhope, Alabama. It’s a small town I wrote about on my blog last year. I drove the RV through streets lined with pastel buildings and lazy water views. I couldn’t stop long (parking’s tough with a Class C), but it was worth the detour. It’s a perfect little town that still feels like a hidden gem.
Fairhope
Fairhope, Alabama was one of the small towns I’d written about on the blog before this trip started — AI-assisted research, bullet points, two-day itinerary, the whole thing. Standing in it for the first time, I wanted to go back and apologize to the blog post for underselling it.
It’s one of those towns that just works. A proper downtown with locally owned shops, a bluff above the bay with parks and benches and water views, an arts community that fills the galleries without overwhelming the streets, the kind of place that doesn’t require any justification for stopping. I was glad I made it work with the RV even though parking was its own small adventure.
The magnet mission update (again): Walmart had nothing. I needed a gift shop or a CVS or something with a rotating display of state-themed tchotchkes near the register. I eventually found what I was looking for. The magnet system — one per state, one per national park — has had some supply chain issues in the early going. Oregon had to come from Amazon. I’m determined to get Alabama in person.
Biloxi Bay Campground: My Favorite Stay So Far
I’m currently parked at Biloxi Bay RV Resort & Marina, and I can honestly say, it’s my favorite spot yet.
My site is right on the water. The sun sets over the bridge to Biloxi, and the moon rises just behind the trees. Last night, I cooked dinner, watched the light fade to gold, and later caught a full moon climbing into a cloudless sky. I tried to photograph it. We’ll see how those shots came out.
Penny sat on the dash, completely mesmerized by the view. She’s gotten so used to this way of life. She watches people walk by. She tracks golf carts. She chills under the pillows and then reappears for sunset. Honestly, she’s living her best travel cat life.
Laundry, Golf Carts, and the Joy of Small Things
This campground has everything, clean laundry rooms, a lazy river, even a karaoke night I stumbled into by accident.
I rented a golf cart (finally figured out the pass I bought didn’t include the cart—lesson learned). Drove around the loops. Talked to some fellow campers. Watched kids fish off the pier. It’s quiet and relaxed here. I could’ve stayed longer.
Doing laundry felt like an adventure. Breakfast was bacon, eggs, and whatever was left in the fridge. And yes, I did run out of propane mid-cook. Always have a spare tank. That’s a new note on my mental checklist.
The RV Tour
Since I’ve been talking about the inside of this thing for three episodes without properly showing it: three-burner stove under a cutting board, compact fridge and freezer, microwave I use more than I expected, the shower that’s currently also the cat litter box location, storage in places you wouldn’t think to look, and the loft above the cab where the cat has claimed squatter’s rights. The dining table converts to a second bed. The TV has never been turned on. The oven is decorative, as far as I can tell.
The black and gray tanks need emptying tomorrow, which is one of those RV maintenance tasks that nobody glamorizes for a reason.
Golden Hour on the Golf Cart
I rented one of the campground golf carts with the iPad-looking screen and did a loop around the park at sunset, Osmo mounted on the thing. Beach area, food truck, karaoke starting up near the clubhouse, a baseball game on the open field, full moon beginning to rise. Ninety percent of the rigs here are fifth-wheelers. I’ve only spotted two Class Cs including mine. We are in the minority.
There’s only one flag you see flying next to the American flag at campgrounds like this, and I’ll let that observation sit there without comment.
Barbecued chicken wings, baked beans, and leftover squash for dinner. The full moon came up over the water while I was cleaning the grill. Penny watched from the dashboard until she decided she was done with the day.
Mississippi tomorrow.
