Wednesday, July 19, 2017

The grey line between Vacation and Retirement

Early retirement is a bit confusing when you throw homeschool into the mix.  There are definite obligations that need to be met.  We do homework every morning from 9am until around noon.  The question of whether we are doing a good job at this remains to be answered.  I guess we will find out when the kids try to get into college.  There are assessments we are trying to use before then, but until they take the ACT, I don't think we'll have an accurate idea of where they fall in with their peers.

Besides homeschooling, though, retirement looks an awful lot like vacation, especially lately.  We've been fortunate to meet up with friends from Minnesota over this summer. We had playdates in Minneapolis, shared Yellowstone with my daughter's bestie and explored Banff and Glacier with people we've known for over 15 years. 



We went out to eat a lot more than we would if we were on our own, most likely. But other than that, sharing our friends' vacations looked an awful lot like our normal life as it is now.  I don't say that to glorify it or to brag. It's just the reality of our lives now.  It's pretty tough not to be grateful on a daily basis for the scenery we've been able to enjoy.  It was clear to us that when our friends left us, they were going back to their jobs.  We were going on to our next destination.  I was so relieved not to be returning to my job.  I remember taking vacations like this when we were working. And it was exhausting in its own way!  At the end, I often felt like I needed a vacation to recover from the vacation. 

If there's anything that truly separates this version of retirement from vacation, it's the amount of driving we have been doing. And on this matter, we're all in agreement.  It's way, way too much. All four of us are getting burned out by the road. We have been changing locations about every two to six days.  The routine of setting up and tearing down the trailer has become rote, and we can do the whole thing in about half an hour.  The trips themselves have fallen into a routine. We start with quiet acceptance but that's quickly followed by progressive crankiness, senseless bickering and finally sullen silence.  The discussions lately have centered around stopping, as in "Please when can we stop for a month or two?"  We talk about being burned out on being tourists.  With each new location, we start over, check in to the latest campground where we know no one and find our way to the nearest services.   The month we have scheduled in Corpus Christi, TX is looking like nirvana at this point.  The month that we were stationary in San Diego seems like a lifetime ago.  I can see why so many RVers choose two or maybe three favorite locations and simply wander between them.  We may get there, but it won't be any time soon. We have the next year planned out. After Texas, we'll be making our way up the East Coast in the Spring with the goal to see Nova Scotia by Summer.  I am praying that the roads get less bumpy as we travel East, but I am doubtful. 

People are always saying that it's the journey, not the destination. But I am starting to think that the destination is pretty darn nice. 



Thursday, June 15, 2017

Paring Down

When we sold our house and most of our possessions, I truly believed we had downsized.  We left  Minnesota with plenty of clothing, kitchen supplies and various games and activities.  It turns out we needed only a fraction of what we brought with us.  The paring down started right away when we quickly realized that we weren't going to need our lifejackets in the RV.  I'm not quite sure how they made the initial cut. We put them in a box and sent them to my mom for use at her lakeside home.   Then we realized that I have a mild spice addiction.  Okay, oksy, maybe it's more like a moderate to severe issue. I can not leave spice store empty-handed, and I have Penzey's on speed dial.  I started to throw away old bottles of thyme and sad-looking packets of fennel.  Also, why I had three full boxes of cocoa powder is beyond me. Out they went, but it still wasn't enough. 

So at the end of our first year of RVing, we did it again.  We got out boxes and filled them with things for Goodwill.  We discovered that we don't play board games very often. But when we do, we play the same two or three.  We found out that my childrens' addiction to stuffed animals makes my spice rack look like I have never set foot in a kitchen.  Bags and bags of toys went to Grandma's for "storage".  If a few of those toys find their way into new homes, well, my guess is that my kids won't miss them. My husband went through his ever-growing pile of t-shirts.  An aside: T-shirts have a strange way of multiplying.  I believe this warrants further study in the scientific community.  No matter how many he leaves behind, his stack of t-shirts grows. Many were just thrown out this time, but even more were sent to storage.

And you know what?  It's even better the second time around. Every time we get rid of the stuff, the clutter, in our lives, it frees up space in our heads for the really important things. 


We are probably still carrying more than we should. We are certainly carrying more than we need.  With each purge, I feel a little clearer and a lot cleaner.  I highly recommend it. 

I am also aware that someday, we will be done with the traveling and settle somewhere.  I have no idea where that will be, but my goal is to remember this feeling of freedom.  I hope never to fall into the trappings of stuff ever again.  For as surely as saffron is the spice of life, too much of any good thing becomes a prison.  I don't ever again want to be held hostage by our accumulations. 

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Can you go home again?

Yes, I do realize that it's been over a month since I blogged.  I was stalling.  I wanted to have the return to Wisconsin and Minnesota behind me before I tried to dissect this question.  The process of catching up with so many dear family members and friends has left us all feeling completely overwhelmed.  I have lost track of all of the conversations, hugs and tears we have shared in the last month. 

Here's what I have learned, in no particular order. 

We came back too early.  There was an entire week wasted in Illinois in an absolutely beautiful campground due to the rain.  It rained. And then it rained some more. And then we hit Wisconsin in time for more rain.  On one of our last days in Minneapolis, the sun shone. And then it rained again.  I will never again return to the Midwest in what passes for Spring.  It's one thing if you have a house. It's an entirely different experience in an RV.  The sad thing is that I really like rain! ...just not this much of it in consecutive days.

We came back too early in terms of seeing our friends as well.  School is still in session, so the kids were really limited in terms of play dates.  Most everything had to be scheduled on a weekend, so those were jam-packed. 

We saw our old house and our old cat. Neither remembered us. They have moved on and created new memories in the year of our absence from their lives.  They are both healthy and were nice to see.  But they are definitively not ours anymore.  And that was just fine with me.  We have moved on too, as it turns out. 

As we traveled around our old stomping grounds, we could not shake the sense that we were supposed to be working.   The associations with having to be somewhere at a certain time are still very strong.  The roads we traveled for our jobs are still just as clogged with traffic, just as time consuming and frustrating.  The reasons we took our feet off the treadmill surrounded us in the Twin Cities. 

On the other side of the spectrum, seeing loved ones face to face can not be underestimated.  Sharing a hug and having a real conversation simply can not compare to a phone call or Facebook post.  We will be back in Minneapolis in the Fall, and I'm already looking forward to seeing these people again.  The acquaintances we've met at various RV parks around the country are lovely, but they can't yet hold a candle to the deep knowledge we have of our own people.  Am I closed off to meeting new friends?  No, but that does seem to require a certain amount of standing still.  Maybe we just don't have the hang of this yet.

Because our plan is to eventually move onto a sailboat, I've been gathering our people to us.  I'm reminding them that they need to prepare to visit us at sea, because naturally we will be more isolated.  Thankfully, most of them are willing. 

All in all, I'm happy that we can visit. But that's now what it is, a visit. This isn't our home anymore.  And that's okay.  

Thursday, March 23, 2017

The Art of Saying Yes

I think optimism is a widely admired trait.  Yet so many of us have a desperately hard time maintaining it. It's something that we've been talking about a lot lately, especially as fortunate as we are.  Both Henry and I grew up in low income brackets, he more so than I.  There was always food and a house, but there weren't a lot of extras.  We both worked our entire adult lives up to this point, and we were lucky enough to live in the US and get quality educations.  Somehow though, good fortune still brings out the pessimism in us.  How can it possibly be this good?  When is the bottom going to drop out?  We both just feel "too" lucky. 

We now have a 2 year plan to continue RVing across the US. We've started to make our way East again and plan to be in the Midwest by the end of April. After a Summer and Fall "back home", we'll be making our way to Corpus Christi, TX for the winter.  The following Spring will mean a slow trek up the East Coast with a Fall in the Midwest.  We may winter somewhere warm once again, but then...

Our current plan has us buying a sailboat at that point.  Because we have been discussing this more seriously lately, I have actively been trying to shut down the naysaying inner voice.  "What if something bad happens?" it says.  "I welcome good fortune into my life," I say.  "But what if you can't afford it?  What if the market crashes or you get robbed or...something else horrible occurs?" it says.  "I am content and capable," I say.  "We can handle whatever happens.  Now, shush!" 

It's pretty persistent, the little bugger. 

But here's what I have learned.  No matter what happens to us, we cope with it. It's not always perfect or what we expected, but we make it through.  Our successes in simply surviving should give us all confidence in the future.  Now, when we reach for something resembling greatness, we practice saying "That could totally work out! I think that's going to happen!" Or even better, "That is going to be even better than we think. Look what we've done so far!"  Trusting ourselves to handle adversity is a huge step.  We all have within us the ability to overcome.  This is, to me, what makes optimism possible and worrying such a waste of energy.

It may seem new-agey to meditate or practice affirmations, but I find that until I talk to myself differently, nothing around me changes.   There's a terrific Improv exercise in which you may only say "Yes, and..." when your partners make a suggestion, no matter how outlandish. And in the beginning, it's tremendously difficult for actors to stop saying "No, but..."  I think this is an essential trait for life.  When the idea comes to you, "Hey, I could..." your inner voice should say, "Yes! And it's going to be amazing!" 




Thursday, February 16, 2017

How lazy am I?

My lack of ambition has often plagued me.  Shouldn't I want more? Is it the Midwestern upbringing?  I was taught to work hard if I wanted to succeed, that anyone can go halfway.  I was taught that when you vacuum a carpet, it has to take a certain amount of time and effort. Otherwise, you didn't do it right. I was taught that in order to get good tips, you had to hustle and stay on your toes.   I've been working, in one form or another, since I was 12 years old. I started by babysitting, because it was the only work I could get.   But in North Dakota, 14 is the working age.  So I got a job waiting tables, then at the local newspaper and then at a retail department store. I have had jobs at McDonald's and in telemarketing.  I have been on call as a manager for a group home and in sales support at a computer company.  I have held two jobs at the same time, more than once in my life, just to make ends meet.  I can remember working 8-5 after college and then standing on my feet for another 4 hours at a movie rental store.  From age 12 until age 48, I worked. That means my working life spanned roughly 36 years. 

And now, I don't know that I'll ever work again.   I am constantly surprised and a little unsettled that I'm okay with that.  Am I lazy? I certainly don't shy away from cleaning the bathroom, and if I see a dirty dish, I do it.  Wouldn't a lazy person let the dishes pile up? 

I never had lofty goals of being the best in my chosen profession.  In fact, it's specifically the reason that I chose not to pursue theater full time after college.  I had landed a sweet little gig directing children's theater productions.  It was a sought after position, and I know how lucky I was to get it. It was 12 hour days for very little pay, but it was prestigious. It was complete and utter hell.  The kids were great. Their parents, though, were another story.  In order to succeed in that world, I would have had to sacrifice much, including my own dignity and sense of worth. So, I stepped away from that career path and pursued another.  My ambition didn't go that far.

Now that I have had a pretty successful run in both radio and dog training, I find myself wondering if I should be doing something else with my time.  Retirement is notoriously rough on people with no purpose.   (Of course, the kids are a built-in purpose, so maybe judgement day is 6 years in my future.)

Then again, maybe I can agree with myself not to term it "laziness".  Maybe I can call it adaptability and contentment.  I've entered a phase where I'm happy with whatever I am doing, whenever I'm doing it.  I am able to sink into the new normal and enjoy it.   Every day, I consider the rat race that was my life before retirement and note my gratitude.  I miss absolutely nothing about Minnesota in the winter, driving from one obligation to the next on frozen, treacherous roads.  I don't miss the cold. I don't miss seeing my kids only on the weekends.   I don't even miss working (and I thought I would).  I miss the people, my friends and clients. But I don't miss the struggle.

I know how lucky I am, and I deeply appreciate everything that has led to my being able to do what we are doing now.  There are still sacrifices; of course there are.  But the payoffs far outweigh them.

Point Lobos, California


I hope that I can instill in my children this sense of gratitude.  For now, I will make that my ambition.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Walking down the middle

This was going to be a completely different post. I started with the notion that we are finally at a point in our journey where we don't have to be somewhere else by a certain time. Our time is now truly ours. 


However, I can't shake the sense of division that is instead occupying my thoughts today.  I stay as far away from politics as I can, but I have watched the political divide ruin friendships and start verbal wars this week.  And I am walking the line. I think it's the line that a lot of us want to walk right now.  It's most clearly defined as, "You have a right to your opinion."  And then I continue walking.  What happens next is often that someone on one side and then the other tries to pull me off the line.  And it's becoming pretty thin. 

There's a lot of sentiment about uniting and working together. After all, we do all have to live together.  But in practice, I'm seeing a very different reality.  When two of my closer friends are on opposite ends of the spectrum, neither of them can be wholly happy with me.  It's an incredibly uncomfortable place to be.  I'm expected to choose a side.   Alright then. Here I go.  I choose freedom.  I choose the right to freely express your views, whatever they may be.  I choose to go forward with love and kindness for all. 

Also, I voted for Johnson.  :D

Okay, so on to the journey. Are we done yet?  Well, mostly, I think so. I think we are done with having to be somewhere at a certain time.  I keep thinking we're done with it, but then something else happens to create an obligation. The latest was a happy circumstance, but it did mean traversing half the country in a pretty short period of time.  My college kiddo marched in the Holiday Bowl, which was so fun to watch.  And then he stayed with us for 12 days, 12 fun-filled, busy and expensive days. It was worth it, but I suspect a long recovery. If I'm not mistaken, we don't have plans to meet anyone else or have tickets to anything else. At least, not until July. Could this finally be the freedom we've been seeking? 


The days were indeed fun-filled.  We have been seriously indulging here, in more ways than one. We were on such a good run with eating healthier, but this area offers nothing if not great places to eat.  And because we had a guest who was basically on vacation, we went on all sorts of expensive outings.  Part of me is grateful that it's going to rain for our last few days here so that we can stop spending! 


On Monday, we leave San Diego behind and head into Northern California once again. We'll spend a couple of weeks in Solvang, near Santa Barbara before going on to see our family and friends in Napa County.  And then begins our long trek back to the familiarity of Wisconsin and Minnesota.  I completely underestimated how much I would miss our people.  Everyone on the road really has been welcoming and kind, but there is something to be said for those who know you well, whatever their politics.


Saturday, December 24, 2016

Our First Christmas Away

I think I'm supposed to be depressed today.  After all, I'm away from my friends and extended family for the first time over Christmas, and we don't have a tree or any other decorations up for the season.  But I can't quite find it in me to be bummed.  We are in San Diego after a grueling 7 hour day on the road yesterday. It's just under 60 degrees here today, and this is the coldest it's going to be for our month-long stay in this area. Back in Minnesota, they've had a few record cold days and quite a bit of snow.  I keep thinking about how grateful I am that I am not driving around in that.  Between taking the kids to school, their activities, and driving to my own classes and private appointments, I was in the car almost as much as I was at home. Today, we're all hanging out together, talking about our plans as we watch the Green Bay Packers play the Minnesota Vikings.   If we were up north, we'd be on the road to see one of our families, the car full of presents, food, baggage, sour tempers and harried parents.

Instead, we are headed to the Holiday Bowl on Tuesday to see our kiddo march in the U of M band, and we made sugar cookies today. 



So we didn't have a big, holiday feast. And there are no presents under a beautifully lighted tree.   There was no running around, buying stuff we probably would never use. I didn't wrap presents only to have the floor littered with packaging as my kids tore through one present after another. I didn't spend much time in the kitchen at all, actually.  Even if I had, I'd still have been in the same room as the rest of the family.

...I am so much more relaxed! Don't get me wrong. I think all things have a place.  We have had many of those busy, packed holidays. They are great.  What we're doing now, though, is right for us at this point in our lives.  I'm happy to say that the kids are just as excited about having stockings stuffed tonight as they ever were about 10 presents under the tree.  They had just as much fun decorating and eating cookies as they did when they were little and for Santa (this year, they're just for us). 

I am feeling just as grateful this year as any other I've ever experience.  After all, this is our campground for the month:



Merry Christmas indeed!