Setbacks and Solutions

Well. That's harder than it looks.

In my zeal to attempt this new career, it seems the Universe has aligned against me. Right after my last blog entry, the plague came to wreak its havoc on our household. I'm still not 100 percent.  I can hear a rumble, and I must clear my throat at least 40 times each morning. If you think it's annoying to listen to, I assure you it's at least as annoying to do.  Laryngitis was the biggest culprit, though a nasty cold and stomach virus attended as well.

As I started to think I could speak again, my computer quit working. Specifically, the speakers and audio decided to crap out. Fortunately, the top case was still under warranty! Yay! Alas, that was another 9 days gone.

It's taken the better part of 6 weeks to actually have the time and energy to get to where I am today, sitting in a quiet (enough?) room in the library. I recorded a few tracks just to get an idea of the levels and, honestly, to familiarize myself with the equipment and software I'm using.

Next step: get help. I'm not kidding, I am not sure these are good enough to submit to anyone or anything. I need a trained ear to listen and critique.

The good news is that the terror I had been feeling over all of this has subsided into a dull, ongoing anxiety. I'm not sleeping well, and I'm eating a lot (and I mean, a LOT) of chocolate. I can't decide if it's the fear of failure or the fear of trying that has me tied in knots. Maybe they're the same thing.

Above is the room where all of the magic happens. I'm choosing to frame this as my humble beginnings.

Funny observations about today:

The room I'm recording in shares a wall with the bathroom here at the library. So, when someone flushes, that's an automatic take 2.

I have forgotten how to annunciate. To me, I sound like I have marbles in my mouth. All the time.

I had forgotten how painful it is to listen to myself. I do not sound like this in my head. This disembodied voice is thin, wretched.

South Carolina LOVES leaf blowers. I do not understand this obsession, and I've never seen it anywhere else we've traveled. But, and I'm not exaggerating, I hear a leaf blower every single day here. There are not this many leaves in the world, much less on any particular rectangle of sidewalk. The sound from that leaks into this room occasionally, so that's an automatic take 3.

It's dark in here. I can't turn the overhead light on, because it's neon. It makes a low, humming noise. ...I need a studio.

So there you have it, my - ahem - dubious progress in this new venture. Thanks for reading, and I'll try to include some questionable audio takes next time!

My Second Chapter

Am I too old to have a new career? I am, right? I turned 52 today, and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't even be thinking about  starting a new job, especially one as high risk and full of rejection as I'm sure this one will be. Will I have the energy to see this through? I'm not the kid I used to be. I could just sit back and take up some nice hobby...perhaps macrame.

Oh, but wait, this idea won't leave me alone. I think I have to do it, I have to try. And, after all, I have experience that a lot of younger folks don't have. Maybe I better give it a shot, if for no other reason than to say I took a stab at a mid-life crisis.

For me, that's a core value. If I don't try, I'll wonder if I could have done it.

It's with this spirit of lukewarm enthusiasm and self-defeatist attitude that I announce my foray back into the world of voice work. It's been a long time, baby. The last time I was in front of a microphone I was just over 30 years old. 20 years is a long time to be away from a fast-paced and fast-changing industry. The last time I did a commercial, someone else did it for me. In a studio. With lots and lots of editing and fancy buttons. The industry today is unrecognizable to me. People record commercials in their own homes with their own equipment. Am I too old to keep up? Am I capable of learning the new tech?

I'll admit to being absolutely terrified, but unable to put this idea away. A few months ago, I reached out to a couple of people to get some advice. Fortunately, one of these is still very active in radio and was able to give me incredibly useful information about equipment and software. Another friend has offered to help me network in this area.

And still, I waited. I'm too scared. I'm too old. I'm overwhelmed. I have no quiet space in which to record. The last bit there, the one about no space, is actually my only valid reason for the stalling. I live in an RV. There is no space. So, I quit? Hmm, maybe.

But then, I took my daughter to a Tedx Talk here in Hilton Head. The whole day was amazing, inspirational. But the one thing that hit me hard, right in the gut, was the idea that we must figure out what we want. When we do, we must take small steps toward that goal every day. We don't have to be successful right away. We don't  even have to take a BIG step every day. But we have to work toward what we want with a small step. Every day.

Today, I ordered the equipment my friend said I needed. I'll be attempting to understand the software required. I've approached the local library, where I will be trying to record. The staff was so welcoming that I almost felt guilty for not  approaching them sooner. I downloaded something that a friend told me I needed. Something to do with turning it all digital...okay then! Small step. Every day. And hey, I started this blog! As equipment starts to arrive, I'll be putting this into video form on youtube as well. Small steps. Every day.

I'm 52. I'm too old to be starting something new. And yet, I'm going to try anyway.

Road trips vs. Prison

We're down to the nitty gritty. There's one more long drive in our immediate future, and then we find a permanent-ish residence. I have had a lot of time, and I mean a LOT, to reflect on ways that long drives are similar to prison. Okay, full disclosure. I've never actually BEEN to prison. But as I said, I've had plenty of time to imagine it.

1) Restricted movement. The truck cab is arguably significantly smaller than a prison cell. There's no room to get up and move around or even stand up, and as the day wears on I find more and more creative ways to contort my stiff muscles to get comfortable. Actually, I think prison inmates have more freedom than people on a long road trip.  Criss cross applesauce, feet on the dashboard and seated stretching exercises are regulars. And when all of that fails, Advil to the rescue. I mean, let's face it. I'm no spring chicken.

2) Everything is on a schedule. You're hungry before lunch time? You need to pee?  Well, you're just going to have to hold it, inmate. It's not time to stop yet, and anyway the next exit with any services is at least 35 miles away. This is especially true in the desert Southwest and Midwest. There are more rest stops in the Northeast, but you do run the risk of snagging your RV on a ridiculously low bridge. Side note: Shouldn't those just be raised at this point? Between trucks and the growing RV population, I think it's time. I'm looking at you, New Hampshire. 

3) There are other inmates, and they can be horribly obnoxious. Because we are lucky enough to have internet in the truck, the kids play Minecraft with their friends online. They are loud, loud people.  There has been actual screaming in excitement.  Does anyone know why they insist on narrating every single one of their actions? And where did my daughter learn to shriek like that? Thank goodness for headphones. 

4) That brings me to sleeping. Forget it. I assume that it's very difficult, at least at first, to sleep in prison. There are a bunch of unfamiliar noises and obvious stressors. Same with a road trip, but add to that inconsistent jarring and bumping around.  This is always worse on toll roads. Aren't smooth and well maintained roads supposed to be what our tolls are providing? It's like airplane turbulence bad enough that the captain has to make an announcement. 

5) The food is inconsistent and pretty unhealthy. As someone who's spent a lot of time and energy trying to get fit, I know what I can eat to stay healthy and have energy. I know that chocolate is not really good for me. I know that too many calories consumed will produce weight gain. And yet, on a driving day, I eat whatever is available. It's getting better, America.  Even the fast food chains are starting to offer healthier options. But by hour 4 or 5, that doesn't even matter. My stress level is so far off the charts that I will devour a King Size bag of Peanut M&Ms in under 8 minutes. Sue me. 

6) There's a warden and he's calling the shots. Ultimately, the driver is going to decide when and where we stop to eat or use the bathroom, buy gas or park. There is no democracy. You can put in requests, and the warden is a really nice guy and tries to listen. But in the end, he's the key to your freedom or imprisonment. 

7) There's a sentence of a pre-determined length.  For me, it's one more trip, one more long drive. It's about 7 or so more hours, more if we have another bridge incident (don't ask). And then, my debt is paid and I can return to normal society. There will still be road trips in my future, but hopefully they won't include towing a 37 foot RV behind me. Freedom! Freedom to park in the tiny spot, to go under any bridge without even thinking about it and to go home at the end of it? Wow! These things we take for granted are now new and amazing to me. 

So, there you have it! As grateful as I am to have been able to do this for the last three years, I'm anxious to use my get out of jail free card.  

If I even have to say it, all of this is very tongue in cheek. I am so lucky, and I know it. I'm incredibly grateful for everything we have been able to see and do.  I really love my warden and my fellow inmates. And this whole experience has changed me, deeply and forever. 

The Home Stretch

Now that the intense social whirlwind that is us visiting the Midwest has come to a close, I can finally gather my thoughts. It's been so long since my last entry, because we have been visiting. And visiting some more. And then visiting some more. I think we crammed in as much family/friend time as we possibly could, and now we're back on the road. The kids have left for camp, so I have a moment to breathe.

We are almost done with this chapter. In a little over a month, we will be in South Carolina, where we will stay for the foreseeable future. And my overriding thought is gratitude. I am so lucky to have been able to do this for the past three years. Our travels have taken us all over our country, and we've made some incredible memories.  There have been struggles, of course, but thankfully there's been nothing that we couldn't handle. I have thought a lot about gratitude lately, and how it relates to happiness. I think they're the same thing. 

It's so easy to slip into dissatisfaction, isn't it? I'm certainly guilty of it. Gosh, this kitchen is tiny. Ugh, I hate having to wash our clothes at a laundromat. Great, I broke another French Press. The latter is always a dire emergency and means a shopping trip immediately. Surely there's a Wal-Mart nearby. I need coffee! But I digress.

It's much harder to hold onto the big picture when the little inconveniences of this small, unstable place are what I see. But when I look at the view outside of our window right now and think back on everywhere we have been, I am reminded that my needs are very simple. And everything else is a bonus, only enhancing my life. 

So when my impatience to "get there" or "be done with the driving" kicks in, I am striving in each moment to take a look around my tiny house and notice my freedom. I notice my luxuries, like our air conditioning, our fireplace and, yes, like my 3rd French Press...I really should invest in a stainless steel one. 

Do It Because It Scares You

I recently heard this advice given to a friend contemplating a change in career. She wants to jump ship, but she's afraid of leaving behind the security of her current job. And the advice was, "Do it because it scares you."

...I don't get it.  I mean, not really. If I did everything I was afraid to do, I'd jump in a swamp where I know crocodiles are plentiful. I don't think facing a challenge solely because you're afraid of it is quite where the mentor was going. But if we scale it back a bit, could we agree that the advice could instead be, "Don't miss the opportunity just because you're scared"? That's closer to home for me. I try really hard not to make decisions based in fear - which is why I found myself modeling in a recent fashion show.

I think it's pretty well-established how I dislike being the center of attention. In fact, I wrote another entire blog entry on it and now admit freely what an introvert I am. To say that modeling is not in my comfort zone is like saying that North Dakota gets a little chilly in the winter time.

So when I was first asked if I would model, I emphatically and without hesitation replied "NO. I mean, no thank you." (because I always try to be polite) But then I was asked again and, here's the kicker,  was told that this would really help because someone had backed out.

Now, if you met the lady asking, you'd see why I had to reverse my stance. She's possibly the nicest person I've ever met and she was shouldering the burden of organizing this event of her own free will.  Who am I to make life harder for her?  Then too, I thought, you can't say no just because you're scared, you chicken. So, I said yes with, I'm sure, a look of utter horror on my face.

Unfortunately, saying you're going to do something and then actually going through with it are two different things. Leading up to the day of the show,  I had nightmares about all of the bad things that could happen. I could kick off one of my shoes and be unable to find it again. I don't wear flip flops for this reason, but I'd be wearing them in the show. Obviously, forgetting to put on an outfit came up. I woke up from that one in a cold sweat, but really, how ridiculous. Someone would surely stop me before I got all the way to the runway and suggest I put on a dress.  I obsessively worried about my big toe, which is damaged and can't look good in a sandal. I fretted about my hair as I don't even own a hair dryer anymore. I cursed myself for not keeping makeup as well.

A couple of days before the event, we had to go try things on and that part brought the fear home. Now it was real. I knew exactly what I'd be wearing and how exposed I would be.

It doesn't really help that my body has changed so dramatically over the last year. It's for the better, but it's new and weird. My body image has not kept pace. I still see myself about 30 pounds heavier than the scale says I am. And all of that would be on display? I resolve to stop eating until three days later. (An aside: this did not happen)

Anywho! The day arrives. The waiting is over. I do the best I can with Mother Nature's hair dryer and the mascara and eye liner I refuse to give up. Don't judge me, but I painted my nails and the big toe got some extra to cover up the imperfect pedicure. Poor toe, it's not its fault, after all. A little lipstick and I go for it! Well, not quite.  The models get to eat AND DRINK first, so I go for a bottle of the red liquid courage.  I'm completely terrified at this point, but there's no going back. People are counting on me now. There's an official list and everything! I figure I could faint, but that's probably the only way out of this now. I take deep breath and remind myself that I know these ladies. They're nice people and won't be mean to me. Once changed, I feel even worse. The fainting is not just an idea anymore. It might actually happen. I realize that I have either had too much or too little wine. I feel a little dizzy but I'm far too aware of it.

As I'm standing in line, waiting to hit the runway, I'm told there's a pattern to walk. NOW they tell me?  I go into serious panic mode and frantically repeat the instructions and ogle the other models to  see what they are doing. I mean, what if I had been first?! Clearly, in their wisdom, no one was going to let that happen. Unfortunately, there's a lot of waiting at this stage and that allows me time to ramp up the insanity within.  I try to remember yoga breathing, but it's no good.  I'll be lucky if I don't vomit on these beautiful clothes. And yes, that was in one of the nightmares.

Honestly, the first three outfits are a blur to me. I remember pasting a smile on my face and moving through the room, changing quickly and getting back out there. It's a blessing, really,  that I had an out of body experience.   I am there, but nothing is registering. I see but don't see the people.  I know they are there and smiling kindly at me, even giving me thumbs up, but I really can't engage. I had to be told later that my husband and daughter had come to show their support.

And then, blissfully, the wine started to kick in a bit. The last three outfits were more fun. I was a bit looser,  the smile more genuine. Of course, I was also thinking that it was more than halfway over, which definitely helped.  And then,  just like that, it's over and I'm back in my own clothes. I didn't lose a shoe or fall down or even throw up! Success!

I can't say that I have bettered myself through this experience, but at least I did it and I did not die (I mean, it could happen and, in fact, did in one of my nightmares).  I'm not eager to get back out there and have all of the eyes in a room on me, but I did not let the fear stop me. Oh! And I got a huge discount at the store of the sponsor, which resulted in a nifty shopping spree. I wouldn't have gotten that any other way.

The moral of this story is to try things not because you will be changed by them, necessarily. But rather, do them because you won't know what you might have gotten if you don't. I got a bit more confidence in my appearance and a great new pair of shoes - instead of the regret of not doing something that really helped someone out just because I was nervous. The payoff at the end of this experience was that I did something I was terrified to do. And now, if I'm asked if I want to model for someone I can emphatically say,  "No, thank you."

Winter in an RV

One of the key points in leaving Minnesota was to avoid cold temperatures. But despite driving about as far south as we could get in Texas, it's 41 degrees today with winds out of the north at 20 miles per hour.  Winter takes on a whole new set of exciting side effects when you live in an aluminum box. Here are my top 5 reasons why living in an RV is better in the winter:

1) Rare sights! Behold, the sideways palm tree! They bend but don't break...yet. Book your tickets now to see these all over southern Texas!

2) Family togetherness! Feel like you're not getting enough time with your loved ones? Are your teens distant and unresponsive to affection?  Well, forget the affection, but you will see them a LOT more if you live in an RV in the winter. In fact, they will always be there, every time you turn around. And when they're playing with their friends online, because no amount of distance can stop them, you will get to hear every ear-piercing, mind-numbing shriek of excitement as their Minecraft village is destroyed by zombies!

3) Promotes imagination! Your brain will instinctively kick into protection mode and will transport you to warm and luxurious surroundings.  You can visit Bali, Hawaii, even the Maldives, all from the comfort of your 4 square feet of bedroom space. Having an electronic device with search capabilities is key to enhancing this practice.

4) Closer to nature!  You will develop a new appreciation for each gust of wind as it rocks your entire house. It's not enough to hear the fury of nature's symphony.  Immerse yourself in this interactive experience as each gust of wind allows you to, in great detail, confront your insignificance in the face of the overwhelming power of the Earth. 

5) Sleep deprivation can result in cool hallucinations! Because the wind will either keep you up all night OR wake you violently every 34 minutes, you will be able to let go of the binding chains of reality. Are you simply daydreaming or can you actually see air now?  Perhaps you are a superhero!

There you have it! Now, sell that house and go out and buy your box!

PS - all tongue in cheek. I'm incredibly grateful to be here, with my family, warm and secure.

We have our decision!

After a lot of exploring, discussing and debating, we had narrowed down our options for permanent residency to three locations: Port Aransas, TX, Tampa, FL and Bluffton, SC.  We realize fully how lucky we are to have options like these and practice gratitude daily. We knew we wanted to be close to water, but so many other factors came into play. Schools for the kids, surrounding area, culture and easy access to an airport for friends and family were some of these. Weather, of course, has also been a consideration.

All that said, we can say with clarity that South Carolina is where we want to put down roots! That phrase is intentional, as the live oak trees actually factored heavily into the decision.  We didn't realize how much we missed the trees of the Midwest until we hit Savannah, Georgia. There's something very welcoming and soothing about them. So, even though it's a bit colder there than in, say, Tampa Bay, the trees won us over.

So! Now, we are trying to figure out how to get there. Even though we promised ourselves that we were done RVing and racing around the country, we have allowed a few fun obligations to overtake that plan.  To give ourselves a summer in Minnesota, we've decided to stay here, in Port A, until April 15th and then make our way north. The idea is to be in MN and Wisconsin for a graduation, a fitness celebration, and a family reunion before heading to New Hampshire. The kids will be in camp again in July-August, so we will stay there for a month or so. And then, we'll drive down to SC.

The easiest thing for us might just be to buy an RV spot while we look for a permanent residence. Our kids getting enrolled in school, changing our residency and renewing our licenses will take precedence over moving. Once all of that shakes out, we'll figure out the housing situation.

This was not an easy choice, I'll admit. I would have been just as happy to leave the RV in a ditch along a TX highway and drive straight to SC,  but that seemed a bit impractical.

So that's our update!

And now, if you were curious about the fitness celebration, allow me to explain further. We all got a bit chunky and unhealthy doing this whole drive across America adventure. You would think not. You would think we'd be hiking all the time and exploring caves and such. But the reality has been that on travel days, we eat whatever fast food we can find. And because of the pace we set for ourselves, there were an awful lot of travel days. So a few months ago, we issued ourselves a challenge. It wasn't a "let's lose weight" thing, though that was a side effect, but more of a "let's get healthier" thing. Below are photos of the "before" stage where we were all just kind of eating whatever fit in our mouths.

That was late last summer (2018). We started by just incorporating more salads and less meat into our diets. And as we went, we got more and more into plant-based eating. It was easy. Many people aren't going to believe me when I say this, but I don't miss greasy hamburgers. Anyway! Here we are a couple of days ago. I think Ethan is the most dramatic. He dropped 20 pounds. I'm down almost 30. Erin is the same, but she has cut out a LOT of sugar from her diet. Henry has lost 25 pounds or so. But, way more important than the weight loss is that we all feel better - like a LOT better - more energy, fewer aches and pains.

The agreed upon reward for this transformation was at least part of the summer in MN! We're happy to say that we have to pay up. See you in May, Minneapolis!

Our Worst Day of Travel

9am: We are ready to go! I'm particularly excited, because I have been counting down how many long days in the truck we have left. Two! Only two more travel days until we are done with this madness-I mean, this adventure. And we have this leaving thing down to a science. I've already gently coaxed the kids to get moving and they are doing their jobs with cheerful countenances.  What? You weren't there. I can say what I want.

The weather is not cooperating. It's sprinkling and supposed to start raining in earnest in a bit, but we will be on the road before it gets too bad. And then the radar shows us driving out of it within the hour. No big deal.  (This is foreshadowing in case it wasn't obvious)

My pep talk to myself started last night and continues this morning. I'm going to eat healthy today, because I'm doing so well!  I'm down about 15 pounds since we started this plant-based eating thing. And I only have another 15 to go. Salad for lunch, and I'm ready. Ha! I laugh in the face of hunger and temptation. Ha, I say! Nothing can break my iron will (more foreshadowing - I'm getting good at this).

My last order of business is bringing in the slideouts. And a one and a two and a - ummm. Hmmm. The slideout for our bedroom did not budge nor make a sound. I mean, not even a clicking noise.

The next thing I do is what any rational human being would do. I try what has worked in the past. So I push the button a dozen more times. Then, I stare at it.  Then, I push it a few more times. Nothing. Well, I have done my part. I tell Henry to fix it.

Henry immediately springs into problem-solving mode and checks all of the fuses and connections -that he knows about. This takes about 5 minutes and he tries it again. Still nothing. Well. So much for leaving today. I call 3 mobile repair RV places. As previously mentioned in this blog, these rarely work out. It will be Friday before one can get to us.  Another one very kindly offers to try to get to us sometime this afternoon. We may end up being at their mercy. I start thinking outside the box and go for youtube. Surely, we are not the first people to encounter this issue. There are a bunch of videos about how to bring it in manually. Except not the one we have. So I go outside and check in all of the front and side compartments. I tell Henry that it looks like there is another connection. He stares at me for a minute, gets up and goes out. It is now raining in earnest. He yells at me to try it. Nothing. He says try it again. I do, and incredibly, the slideout moves and we are ready to roll! He gives me all the credit, but really I know that it's the magic of his brain.

10:30am: We are outta here! So it's a little later than we thought, but it's okay. We should still be there before dark. The radar still shows us driving out of the rain in an hour or so. And I'm still not hungry! Amazing.

10:50am: We all hear and feel a bump but nothing major. We ignore it.

11am: We are still trying to get out of Dallas, when a truck slowly passes us. The passenger has his window down, in spite of the rain. Hahaha, how silly.  Except he's signaling to us that we have a problem. Oh. I guess he's not that silly then.  We pull over on what seems to me like a really crazy stretch of highway. Cars are zipping by at 70mph. This is the only truly terrifying part of the day for me, as Henry and his magic brain get out of the car and investigate the problem. I'm sure he's going to be run over. He isn't, but I can't quite shake the stress of that. He informs us that not only is our tire blown, but it's shredded.

Okay! I go into efficiency mode and call roadside assistance. No problem. Be there in 45 minutes. Well, it's Dallas, we say. That seems like a long time, but it's a big city.

This is where my ability to check out of reality becomes a Super Power. Don't worry, I use this for good, not evil. I tell the occupants of the car that we are warm and dry and have electricity AND internet. What more can we want?  Be grateful, I say. I then shut down all external function and do jigsaw puzzles and play solitaire.

11:30am: There is no sign of the tow truck. Henry calls again. Yes, right, he's on his way but it's going to be longer than he thought.

We decide to wait a bit longer. For the first time, I notice that I'm more than a little bit hungry.

Jigsaw. Solitaire. I then belatedly realize that I could also be reading as we are at a standstill. I can't read when the car is moving, but this I can do. Erin and I traipse through the rain and tall grass on the side of the road to use the RV's, ahem, facilities and I grab a book. My shoes and socks are wet all the way through when we get back to the truck. No problem, say I! It's fine, just an inconvenience. I congratulate myself for my ability to take all of this in stride.

12:30m: No sign of the tow truck guy, so we decide to try to limp toward the nearest exit. This goes well and we stop in a gas station parking lot. Tow truck guy is informed of our new location and he says he will be there in half an hour...or so. We're all hungry now.

1pm: Nope, he's not here. I'm ravenous by now and also working really hard at staying positive. Ethan is starving and says so, vehemently, every 2-6 minutes. I can see a McDonald's, so I make the executive decision to go on foot for vittles. I commandeer Erin to be my back up. Ethan is told to stay behind and "help" his dad wait for the repair guy.

1:30pm:  I had a Big Mac. Don't judge me. I think it was delicious, or would have been had I stopped shoveling it my face long enough to taste it.

1:45pm: The guy shows up! Omg, we can hardly believe it and practically weep with gratitude.  He fiddles around near the tire for awhile and then announces that he doesn't have the right size tools for this job.

...

He wants to go and buy them, because (and I'm quoting now) "I'll probably need them anyway."  You think? You think you'll need tools for your job? As a repairman?  I barely refrain from saying this out loud. After all, he still seems like our best shot for getting out of here.

Off he goes.

2pm: I go into the gas station and get a whole bunch of candy. It's a blur. I eat some/all of it. I don't know.

2:35pm: A tow truck pulls up and a guy gets out. It's not our guy! What the heck? Ah, we get it. The other guy called in back up. This new guy greets us and then gets to work. As he's fixing the tire, Tow Truck Guy #1 shows up and watches him. No sign of the newly purchased tools.

3pm: It is fixed! WHEW! We're okay. This is going to be fine. We thank them both profusely (especially the second guy) and we are on the road!

It is pouring like crazy, but the radar shows that we should drive out of this in a couple of hours. Great! We will be there by 9pm.

3:01pm: It's rush hour. In Dallas. I check out. Jigsaw puzzle. Solitaire. I can still read. That's how slowly we are moving.

4:30pm: We are leaving Dallas! Woohoo! Okay, so we'll be there around 10. Or so. That's fine! We'll still wake up in Galveston tomorrow morning. I call ahead to the RV park to tell them we will be a late arrival. The rep is so competent and friendly that I doubt his ability to live in the same dimension at Tow Truck Guy #1. I fall all over myself thanking him for his ability to do his job.

5:30pm: Everyone else wants to stop to eat. I, on the other hand, feel the Big Mac sitting in my stomach like a lump of wet sand in the bottom of a plastic bucket. It's sloshing around and generally making me nauseous. But we find a DQ and I have a salad. Everyone else seems revived. It is still pouring.

7pm: Still raining. Henry is tempted to just stop for the night. It's dark and we're all exhausted.  But radar says we will driving out of it in 20 minutes. We are all getting more and more annoyed with each other. The kids have started bickering, so I order them to look out their windows without speaking for 10 minutes. Of course, it is dark and it's raining, so this turns out to be a worse punishment than usual. Jigsaw. Solitaire.

7:21pm: Still raining. Radar says we'll driving out of it in 20 minutes. I'm holding it together, but barely. Maybe it's not a Super Power after all. Maybe long drives are my Kryptonite. I giggle maniacally at how funny this is, but I manage to stop when I realize I am dangerously close to an all out fit.

7:42pm: Still raining. In fact, I think it's coming down harder now. The storm appears to be shifting directly into our path. Radar says we're almost out of it, though.

7:48pm: Ethan asks what smells. Henry snaps back, "Your butt" and I feel something snap like a rubber band inside my brain.  A half snort/chuckle escapes my mouth and I'm off. Those who know me well will understand what happens next. I start laughing and Can. Not. Stop. This is akin to a tiny and mirthful panic attack. Henry glances at me, sees what is happening and rolls his eyes without saying anything.  Makes me laugh harder.

7:53pm: I am exhausted from the laughing fit and can do nothing more than stare disconsolately out the window as Ethan continuously asks if I'm okay.

8:45pm: Henry swears that if it does not stop raining soon, we will pull into the next hotel we see. The radar says we will drive out of it any minute now, honey.

9:30pm: We finally drive out of the rain. We don't actually believe it at first, because we can all still see and hear it in our imaginations. But it finally sinks in that we've left the storm behind us. I'd cheer, but I'm too tired.

10:30pm: We arrive!  Henry drives over the grass getting into our spot. No one cares. Thank goodness it's a pull through. No tricky backing into a spot in the dark. Yay! We stop the car. But then Henry tells me that it's not quite right. Could I just back it up 3 feet? I give him a look that really should have turned him to stone on the spot. But, well, that isn't my Super Power. I back it up. We set up and get inside at which point he tells me that it was probably better where it was the first time.  He is lucky to be alive.

There you have it! In the grand scheme of things, it could have been so much worse. No one was injured in the making of this horrific day. We were always safe (well, except for stopping on the highway).

Epilogue: We have now completed our FINAL long drive in the RV.  We arrived in Port Aransas, TX this afternoon after a completely incident-free trip! We will be here for three months and then? Well, we don't know! We'll be using our time here to make that decision.

The Shower Crisis of 2018

Granted, it was not on a scale such as the Cuban Missile of 1962, but I'm going to call it a crisis anyway.

Day One: The shower is draining more slowly than usual. I am standing in about half an inch of water. And to be clear, I don't take long showers. I live in an RV, and the grey water tanks are not conducive to 30 minute showers. And even if I didn't live in an RV, I don't like to prune.  I digress.  

Henry investigates by pulling the drain out and discovering what can only be described as a tube of hair, approximately 8 inches long. Completely grossed out. Can not discuss further. He continues to plunge and fishes up a plastic cone that I don't think was supposed to come out. I'm proven right when the smell of days-old grey water comes wafting into the bathroom.  Turns out that cone? Stops the odor from backing up into the living space. Roger that.

In this process, Henry discovers that the shower is also, in fact, leaking. Super. Shower now off limits. 

Day Two: After hours of first locating and then trying in vain to repair a hairline crack in the pipe, Henry resorts to calling a mobile RV repairman. This, only to discover that he will not travel this far. ...I did mention that he's a MOBILE repairman, right? Okay, just making sure that came across.  

Henry sitting very still, head down, for approximately five full minutes before admitting defeat.  

New plan - try again to repair it himself by purchasing new pipe at Home Depot. Meanwhile, we have no usable shower. We have two teenage-ish children living in close quarters with us. Off to the campground showers we go! Because the alternative is too offensive to my olfactory senses to contemplate. 

Day Three: We went to both Lowe's and Home Depot with poor result. No matching tube can be located. Drove to an RV parts store. Competence at last! They gave Henry all of the correct pieces...except the necessary glue. Back to Lowe's for a quick side trip where glue was procured! Upon arrival at home, Henry glued and cut and cut and glued without mangling his body in any way. Usually, these projects have some injury inherent in the process. Tomorrow, he shall restore all of the pieces to their original locations and bask in the glory of his success! 

Day Four: Ready to install.  The parts have been pre-glued. It is 95 degrees and humid but (and I quote) "This should only take a minute." Ethan's help has been enlisted this time, so much complaining ensues. He is supposed to hold the drain in place while Henry tightens it underneath the RV.  

10 minutes go by with little progress and abundant cursing. 

Ethan has been told to go to his room and not help anymore.

It leaks. And I mean, a lot. It's no longer a hairline crack but instead a pint size waterfall. Water is pouring out like there's nothing at all between it and the Earth with which is is trying to reunite via the floor of our camper. 

Henry claims he is giving up and informs us all that we no longer have a shower.  Campground showers only from now on!  I am unfazed as I am intimately familiar with this phase of my husband's problem solving process. 

Update:  Henry is sitting on the bathroom floor, thinking. 

Day Four (cont...): Henry went outside and then came inside several times. I want to say at least 7.  He just came in and said we have a shower! Success!  

He is very, very pleased with himself.  There was an explanation about what was actually the problem, but I've already forgotten what it was. 

There you have it - the glamorous post retirement that is our lives as we venture into lands unknown. It was only a warm up, however, for our worst day of travel yet.  Stay tuned...

Buckle up, this one is a little bumpy

I'm an open book sort of person. I will talk about just about anything, with anyone.  Exhibit A: This blog. All anyone has to do is to go back and read it from the beginning to see a map of my soul. I don't really have "taboo" topics, though I keep a lot of things off of social media.  In person, I will talk about retirement, religion, politics, sex and whatever else you'd like to discuss. This has served me well in terms of my careers both in radio and as a dog trainer.  Being willing to discuss whatever someone else brings to the table or has questions about is not just about espousing opinions, you see. It's about something much more important. It's about listening without judgment.

Let me explore that idea bit further. I've come to believe that truly listening to another person is (or maybe always has been) a rare find. It is not about just abstaining from interruption while someone else is talking. It's even more than hearing someone else speak, registering their opinion and then throwing in your own.  It's about connection. It's about hearing not just what is actually being said, but also how you can understand someone better because of their point of view. It's not just what they said.  It's about trying to understand why they said it.  In radio, as in theater training, a co-host or guest may throw out a topic. If I were to refuse to discuss it or become offended, the show grinds to a halt. Trust me when I say, in terms of dead air, uncomfortable silence is not a fun feeling. In dog training, owners were sharing their lives with me and often that would come with embarrassing confessions.  I had to be willing to discuss the most personal aspects of their lives without condemning their mind set or actions. If I closed the door on an owner who, for example, had hit their dog in anger, then I would not be able to help them change their behavior and improve their situation.

There are also times in which this trait has absolutely gotten me in trouble. I may say things that others people choose to be offended by.  To those people, I would say - You don't know me at all. If I'm talking to you about how we retired early and asking you about your plans, for example, I am not judging you. I'm sharing our story and attempting to connect to you through it.  If I'm talking to you about politics, I am not saying your choices were wrong. I'm saying, let's see where our common ground might be. And can I become closer to you for understanding your decisions? Because that would be my goal.

Listening without judgment. It's a big concept. It's probably too big for this blog, actually. But as this journey comes to an end and we try to figure out what we are going to do next, I've been asking people a lot of questions. Why do you live here or there? And where would you live if you could? And when might you retire and what does that look like for you?  I have had these conversations with dozens of people in the last two years. Because of the openness I have found in most of them, we are considerably closer to making decisions than we were when we started. I am grateful for that.

In terms of the larger conversations, like politics, I would hope that we could all learn to listen a bit more openly to what others are saying underneath the words.  We don't have to agree in order to be sympathetic. We don't even have to like each other to recognize that our personal experiences have shaped us into different people with different points of view.  I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt, trust in their motives, rather than condemn them or think them inferior in some way. And I would be so grateful if the people in my life would give me that same benefit of the doubt. I'm an intensely curious person by nature. I'm just trying to hear you, connect to you, and get to know you.

Since this is such a heavy topic for this blog, I'll end on a lighter note. I am so profoundly grateful to have been able to take this journey, to meet friends and family along the road that we would not have seen otherwise. It has been incredibly comforting to see friendly faces amid so much uncertainty. Our home is 400 square feet of neverending mobility. There have been few constants. So thank you, my friends and my family, for welcoming us along the way.  You can't even guess at how important that has been.

Well, this is way overdue!

I'm not even going to try to catch things up. It would be impossible. We have had a couple of months of straight up crazy adventures and big cities. I've really enjoyed myself. And now? The kids are at camp! It's the type of camp that actually has me pretty jealous. They have bunnies and horses and chickens, a zipline and a top-of-the-trees rope course. They have a climbing wall and archery and, best of all, someone else makes your meals for you!  They have been there for a week with a week remaining. We were able to visit them yesterday and here is what I have learned:

Camp away from your parents at this age (12 and 13) is making my children MORE of who they already were and are going to be as adults. Erin LOVES it and doesn't want to leave. In fact, she sort of shooed us out of there after about 35 minutes so that she could have adventure time.  Yes, mom and dad, great to see you - you can go now!  Ethan, on the other hand, would have come home with us yesterday. A true homebody, he is acutely aware of his lack of privacy and missing his "stuff".  Full disclosure, he doesn't miss US at all. He too was ready for us to pack up and go after about half an hour.  So, yeah, nothing like a camp visit to make a parent feel unwanted.

A pirate ship offering cruises out of Bar Harbor, Maine

But you know what?  That's what we are doing here, right? We're raising adults. I don't want my kids to need me. I want them to start venturing out, exploring the world and becoming independent.  To that end, there will be some changes made when they return.

When we first started this adventure, we made them go on hikes and we all got a lot of exercise. Now, granted, part of that was that we were in the Pacific Northwest. There's nothing but beautiful hiking out there. Then we got to Texas and things became more urban. And now, on the East Coast, it's been all about Washington D.C. and New York City.  It's not really an excuse. We've let things slide.  I'll be the first to admit that whining absolutely works. If you tell me one thousand times that you don't want to go and do something and THEN complaining the entire time you're doing it?  I'm probably going to stop asking you. This separation is like pushing the "reset" button on all of that. We will be going back to exercise, outdoor fun and family time.

Henry and I have taken advantage of the kids' absence to eat clean and take longer walks. It's been incredibly quiet. I have missed silence.  I crave it, and I revel in it when I find it. Also, he does not whine...much.

Meanwhile, we have officially turned the corner! We made it as far north and east as we're going by visiting Bar Harbor, Maine. Everything from this point forward is about moving south and west to land in Corpus Christi. We will be there from October to the end of January of next year. And then? 

Then...

We are back to NO plan at all.  We don't have a "then".  We have ideas, but no decisions have been made. It's all about the stopping right now.  I'm kind of mostly maybe okay with that. I do love a good plan! But there are too many variables and 6 months is a long time.  Boat or no boat?  Condo or house?  Or should we stay in the RV for another year and take a couple of bigger trips to far off destinations?  These are good "problems" to have and I remain ever grateful to have them.

Too much to see!

When you've seen too much, you appreciate nothing. I am afraid that is where I'm sitting lately.  Oh, don't get me wrong. The spirit, she is willing. But the flesh...the flesh is old and road weary and burned the heck out.

Having firmly established my introverted nature, it should come as no surprise that the insane schedule we've been keeping has caught up with me. And it should come as no further surprise that this finally happened in Washington D.C., one of the richest areas in our country in terms of museums and attractions.  If I thought my legs and feet were tired after Disneyworld, D.C. has had a wonderful time showing me how wrong I was. At least at Disney you get to sit down occasionally for a ride or a snack or a show...or another snack.  In D.C., we walk and then we wait in line to get into a museum. Then we walk through the museum, often standing in more lines. Occasionally, there are mini-movies about a topic that you can sit down and watch. Guess how often I pass those by. D.C. might also be one of the noisiest cities we have been in, just for it's sheer size, if not for the rowdy groups of kids trying to be cool on the subway. My inner voice is quietly begging for silence. "Please, a break. Please, no museums today."

It also doesn't help that I'm the sort of person that needs to read every single placard and tidbit in every museum we enter. At the Holocaust museum, for example, we were told that it takes about 90 minutes to walk through. It took us 4 hours.  I think the only way to get through that museum in 90 minutes is to read maybe every 10th piece of information given and to watch none of the mini movies. Granted, we are homeschooling as well, so museums take on more importance. They are our field trips, and we try to take advantage of them.

So, once again, I find myself in this precarious position of complaining about something that most people would be happy to do. I feel the need to repeatedly proclaim my sense of gratitude. I do recognize how lucky I am to be able to homeschool our kids and to see so much of this country. I am grateful every time I wake up without an alarm or have a meal because I'm actually hungry (instead of grabbing a bite in the car on the way to the next client).

But boy, if you told me that we could move into our house tomorrow and get off the road, I'd be hard-pressed right now to find a reason to argue. We do have plans laid out through January, so I'm determined that we honor and enjoy all of them.

I blame D.C. We need more down days. We've been trying to see as much as possible everywhere we stop, but I'm going to have to concede that our nation's Capitol is too chock-full o' history to see it all. So, despite having 400 more museums to see in the next two weeks, today is a down day. I'll agree to go to the RV park's pool, but that's it. I don't want to learn anything! My brain is full!

And my children, bless them, I suspect are feeling some of this as well. We're all getting more and more snappish with each other, quick to blame and anger.  Hurt feelings are everywhere and constant. I think we all need some space and silence.

In solidarity with my cranium, I was even going to refuse to post a picture this time. But I can't help myself. D.C. is just too good. Here we are at the White House, which is surrounded by gates and security.  I was informed that there are also snipers on the roof, though we couldn't see them. We were also unable to get a tour, but we'll go for that next time. We have been able to get a personal tour of the Capitol building and get to go to the Supreme Court on Wednesday. We took a bus tour through a huge portion of the city and Arlington National Cemetery, but we've barely scratched the surface.

We have also been very lucky in D.C. to meet up with a few friends.  That is always one of the very best parts of full time travel. I got to see a dear friend from High School, one of Henry's college pals and a friend I've had for over 15 years but never met in person!  We have also gotten to meet up with friends who happen to be traveling. That is always a terrific surprise. I want to encourage our friends and family to let us know when they're traveling. Who knows?  We might be close enough to swing by! ...but not today, okay?  Today, I'm going to be napping. 

It's more real when you tell someone

The title of this blog, "It's more real when you tell someone" is precisely why it has taken me so long to write it. We have made a couple of big decisions, but writing and publishing them gives me a sense of closing doors. Because, of course, when you make a choice it's inevitable that other choices are no longer available to you.

So! We have decided that our next step is no longer full-time boat living. Our fear is that it would be RVing on the water, and so we have come up with a compromise.

This is a Corsair trimaran. 

We hope that this is the compromise we've been searching for.  It's big enough that we can spend weekends, or even up to a week, on it. But it's small enough that we could keep it in a marina. One of the issues we had with buying a bigger boat was that you just can't take it everywhere. Bridges might be too low and marinas tend not to accommodate boats of too large a size.  And since we had ruled out a monohull, we'd have chosen a catamaran. That would limit us even further in the types of slips we'd be able to use.  This way, we can keep it at our own dock. The pontoons on this boat actually fold up and out of the way, so we can use a regular slip at a marina.  And if we get a small enough Corsair, it may even be trailer-able. We can take it wherever we'd like to go. 

While it's been harder than I'd have thought to let go of our dream of sailing full-time, the benefits clearly outweigh the negatives. We are feeling some pressure to reintroduce the children into some semblance of normal society. They are getting spoiled! And I'm getting nervous that we are missing key components in our homeschooling curriculum. There are also activities that they can not engage in on the move, such as sports and music lessons.  

We have been at this for two years, which is 4 times as long as we had planned. We now think it's time to find our home base. 

Now. Where might that be?  We think we've narrowed it down to either St. Petersburg/Tampa or Savannah/Hilton Head.  How things play out over the next year will help determine that decision.  Meanwhile, we have plans for the rest of this year and into January of 2019. We'll likely see all of that through before we buy a townhome or house. 

We've closed a door, but we are feeling really good about the open windows. 

Can a Boat Show give us guidance?

"We bought a boat!" - said a couple we met at the RV resort this week.  They still have a house in Canada, but they're taking the plunge. They are not at all experienced, but they seem confident that they can make it work.  They knew what they were doing when they came to the Miami Boat Show this year, and it seems like they were ready to buy.  Another couple admitted to being more excited about living on a boat after attending the show. Yet another spent all four days of the show excitedly taking classes and preparing themselves to move aboard.

I too felt confirmation. I am not ready to live on a boat full-time. Not even close. A lot of the reason is simply not knowing how much different it will be from RV living.  There's still a lot of traveling - but there's a lot less traffic, and things move a lot slower. It's still a fairly cramped space - but it's probably twice as big as the RV we're living in right now.  We still couldn't have people come and stay with us - but we've found ways around that in the RV lifestyle, so I have to imagine we'd do the same on a boat. It's still going to break - and I can find no positive in that.  The RV always has some little (or big) issue that requires Henry's attention.  As I type this, our kitchen sink has decided not to spew water and the bottom of our RV appears to be falling off. I don't see that getting any better with a boat.  Then there's the intermittent threat of motion sickness. I occasionally get carsick - and I occasionally get sea sick.  Oh, and did I mention hurricanes? We'd have to take our boat out of the water each year OR get out of the hurricane zone. So there is that to consider. It's no different in an RV. You have to avoid certain weather. I mean, there is no insulation in this thing, people. It's a tin can on wheels.

I guess what I am saying is that unless whatever we do next has some major lifestyle upgrade that I can fully appreciate, I'm not sure that I'm ready to give up our RV.  I don't want to move again, that's for sure. 3 times in 2 years really should be enough for anyone.  So. Thank you, Miami, for helping me to decide that this is pretty great. We are happy, and we're still having fun.

Our plan right now is to move into Orlando for the next month. There is so much to do there, and we're hoping to do as much as we can. The cheap lifestyle we've been leading allows us now to splurge on a few big ticket experiences, so we're looking forward to Disney and Universal.

Meanwhile, the East Coast awaits. We have made reservations up to New York in June. We're working on finishing out the summer as we head north. The plan is to spend another month in D.C. So our goal of slowing down seems to be working.

And then? Buy an RV spot and a small boat to play with? Or buy a big boat to sail away in? Or maybe we should buy a condo somewhere warm. Or maybe we should just stop in the RV for a few months at a time in our favorite hangouts.  We have 3 months reserved in Port Aransas, but now we're wondering if that's long enough.  Maybe it should be 5 or 6. Then we can reassess. Ultimately, we are happy and grateful to have these choices. We are fully aware of how lucky we are. We're content to soak in these experiences and decide not to decide on anything more.

Decisions Made Easy

Funny how everything can change in the course of one short month. Sometimes, things change in the course of one short hour.

We recently returned from our trip to St. Lucia. We had decided to go there, because our graduating college senior will no longer have month long winter breaks. We decided a last hurrah was in order. And what a beautiful country it is.  I'm in awe of its scenery (and its weather).  This is what's known as foreshadowing.

We returned to Atlanta where the temperatures were in the freezing range. Then, it snowed. Then, the roads iced over. In case you have never had the pleasure of towing an RV on an icy road, let me assure you that it is not to be missed.  For sheer suspense and even terror, the experience is unparalleled. Our decision-making moment came when we attempted to go up a hill. It was not even a big hill, but it was enough.  The tires skidded, we slid, and then were stuck. Brave, gallant Henry tried to back down the hill an inch at a time. But he quickly realized the futility of this plan as the RV slid closer and perilously closer to the ditch.  So, we stopped. And we waited for the thaw. I think we would still be there if not for the miracle (more foreshadowing).

It was around this time that Henry made his declaration. "I do not want to RV anymore or even sail." My first response was instant agreement. Then, I felt something akin to relief. Interesting, I thought, that this should be my first response.  But as I sat and contemplated, I realized that being at the mercy of the weather is particularly difficult with this lifestyle.  There will be times when you will be completely out of your own control. Mother Nature is bigger and meaner than you, even if she isn't smarter.  No matter how well-prepared or clever you think you are, she can kick your butt. And I'm talking about without even trying. Like, with her pinky.

I mean, come on! We were in Atlanta! We thought we were being so smart! Surely, it would not be 19 degrees in Atlanta! Did I mention that our tanks froze and we had no water for about 24 hours? I realize that this isn't an epic catastrophe, but we are both really tired of this type of surprise.  We made adjustments and survived, but it wasn't our finest moment.

So, the decision.  If we still sail, it will be sooner rather than later. We will need to commit to this while we both have some adventure left in us. The last couple of days have zapped some of that wanderlust energy from us. If we're going to take a bigger leap, it will have to be while our minds and bodies can still hack the challenges. I think a lot of people envy us this freedom, to retire and do what we are doing. So, I'm here to show you that it's not all fun and games. Sometimes, it's even quite dangerous. It's nothing less than shocking to me that someone didn't slide into us while we sat there. Not only were we unhurt, but there's not a single scratch on the truck or RV.

Oh, how'd we get off the hill? An angel - well, a Good Samaritan, whose life I hope is happy beyond all reasonable expectations henceforth, stopped, got out some chains, and pulled us up the hill.  I want his truck. While ours was backsliding, his was towing our truck and RV up an icy hill!

This is why I blog by the way. At the end of my rambling, I figure something out. And here's today's lesson.  Go ahead. Take the adventure. Because when you get stuck, another kind human being will stop and get you out of your mess. People are much nicer than Mother Nature, thank goodness.

Decisions, decisions, decisions

How do you make big decisions?  Do you make lists?  Pros and cons? Do you weigh out all of the risks and benefits, do research and then come to a careful decision?  Or are you more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants decision maker? Do you take trips on a whim? Change jobs when you're tired of them? Or do you worry over decisions and change nothing?

I live with a man who is notoriously wishy washy, even by his own admission. He doesn't make big decisions quickly, or sometimes at all.  And the answer I often get when asking what he wants is, "Do whatever you want."

And how do you figure out what you want? For me,  process of elimination works well. I have been starting from Everything In The Whole Wide World and working my way backward. What don't I want? The idea is that this will eventually illuminate the right path.

In case you haven't been following our saga, I'm talking largely about the decision of what to do once we've finished RVing.  We made a huge (for us) decision this week when we reserved an RV spot for ourselves in Corpus Christi. For three whole months next year! A commitment of that much time a year from now is huge for us. It'll be the longest we have stopped anywhere since we started this adventure a year and a half ago.  We love the park, so it's a great way to buy ourselves some time.

But where do we go from here? How close are we to getting the sailboat? Do we even still want that?

These are the questions that run through my head, and YES, they are good "problems" to have. Since I tend toward anxiety, I find myself stressed out when there are no resolutions. And living in an RV is nothing if not unsettled. The idea that we would have a more permanent location (say, a condo) is extremely tempting. I'm way, way out of my comfort zone moving as much as we have been.  So I find some comfort in the deciding, eliminating the things that we definitely do not want. And comfortingly, the list is growing.

In a nutshell:
- We don't want winter. Ever again. I don't miss it, and I certainly don't miss driving around in it. 
- We don't want to work, though we both would if it came right down to it. The freedom of retirement is such a gift. Our schedules are our own, for the first time in our lives. Neither of us is ready to part with that yet.
- We don't want to be landlocked. We both really like the water, especially the vastness of the ocean.
- We don't want to stop traveling, at least not entirely. There is so much to see and do.  But we don't need to drive. We can sail or fly or walk or bike. We are feeling the passing of time in our knees and shoulders and are determined to be as adventurous as we can...until we can't.

But above all else, we don't want to be pinned down on any one decision! We are trying to stay open to all of the possibilities, including eliminating all of the previous desires listed above. This is not an easy thing, to stay open. Living with arms wide open and and resolving to joyfully accept all that happens is constant effort, constant growth. The decision I make daily, even hourly, is to keep my heart and mind open.

Making our way South and other challenges

If you're a morning person, you can probably skip some of this. You won't understand. If, however, you're like myself, it takes you a little while to feel functional after a good night's sleep. Personally, I require coffee and at least 15 or 20 minutes of solitude before I'm fit for human conversation. 

My child, however, wakes up WIDE AWAKE and in full color. The morning "conversation" goes something like this:

Ethan: Erin! Erin! Erin! Come play with me. Erin! Wanna play on the Wii?  Erin!
Mom, did you sleep well?  Dad, did you sleep well?  Erin, how did you sleep?  Did you sleep well?  I slept okay.  Mom! How much longer until we go on the plane?  (in November) How many weeks is that? Will we see Reese?  Who else will we see?  Are we going to dress fancy to go to Murray's?  What time do we have to get up? 3? 3 in the morning?  I'm so excited!
Mom! What's for supper tonight?  You're going to see your friends?  What are daddy and Erin and me going to have for supper?  Dad! Dad! What are we having for supper?  Should we go to Burger King?  Do you love Burger King, dad? 
What do you think Reese is doing today?  He has school, right?  What are we doing today?  I want to stay here.  We did something yesterday.  Are you guys going for a walk?  Can Erin and I play together?  Mom! Make Erin play with me. Erin! Erin! Erin! Play with me. Erin!

Whew, right?  Yeah, this is all within the first 5-10 minutes of him being awake. This was a bit different in our "before RV" life.  I was a floor removed from the kids.  But beyond that, we got up at 6am.  I set an alarm and was up before they were.  I had those moments to myself, as tired as I was.  Now, Ethan is always the first one up and the stream of consciousness verbal tirade begins.  We can all hear it.  Heck, so can our neighbors, I'm sure. 

There are a number of things that have changed for us since we downsized. But mornings and bedtimes are among the most challenging.  Cooking in a tiny kitchen was an adjustment, but I have managed it.  Making the beds in an RV is an exercise in futility. It's only surprising when I don't pull a muscle. And subjecting your home to the equivalent of an earthquake every time you move to a new campground means not trusting any unopened cabinets once you've arrived.  But these obstacles have easily been overcome. 

Mornings and bedtimes, though, still try my patience and fortitude.  I'm so glad we've done this for our kids. I'm reasonably sure they will look back on this time in our lives fondly.  But I'm not too proud to admit that there will be things I won't miss as they get older.  Certainly, I don't miss diapers and the screaming of toddlers.  I won't miss mornings in the RV either. 

In the realm of other challenges, we've now had only our 2nd official breakdown! We pulled up into a gas station in Texarkana and didn't get out.  The truck refused to start.  It actually does this a lot, something to do with it being a diesel engine.  Nothing wrong with it. It just needs to cool down for awhile after working hard.   This time, it just wouldn't cool down. So it got a ride on the back of a tow truck while its family and its RV got a ride to the local KoA.  A few hours later, the Ford dealer called to say that the truck is now rested and happy to start up!  GAH! So, yeah, basically, $360 to cool down our truck for a couple of hours.  Meanwhile, though, the ants found us and invaded.  Apparently, there are quite a lot of them on the Arkansas/Texas border.  We've never had a bug infestation like it in the RV, though I certainly remember how many there were on the 10 acres in Shakopee, MN.  I'll admit that in a tighter space, it seems like a LOT more of them.  We are poisoning them as I type this.  I don't even feel slightly guilty. 

We'll be in Dallas for another week and then it's on to Houston and Corpus Christi.  We will stop there for a month, which I suspect is going to feel like a big, fat vacation.  I'm so tired of the driving part. I hated it before we started this adventure and, a year and a half in, that hasn't changed.  This challenge is at least as great as mornings with Ethan. 

Overall, we're still enjoying ourselves.  We are seeing museums and attractions that we never would have seen if not for this craziness. Arkansas was a revelation. We spent a beautiful afternoon at the Garvan Woodland Gardens.  Their chapel is one of the loveliest buildings we've seen anywhere. So far, the benefits still outweigh the challenges.  Onward, ho!

Cowardice and Social Anxiety

I may be a coward.  You can decide.  I've been writing this blog in my head for a few weeks now.  I'm hoping to strike the right balance between gratitude and brutal honesty.  My goal is to hurt no one's feelings.  I may not succeed.

The last few months have been a lot of fun for us. We've gotten to see so many friends and most of our family members.  We tried to cram a year's worth of socializing into 12 weeks.  Is it possible to have a socializing hangover?  If so,  I have one.

Here's the truth. I'm an introvert and suffer (sometimes greatly) from crippling social anxiety.  But Christi, you might say, weren't you on the radio? Yes! But, you see, I had a character to play. It was an exaggerated version of myself.  But Christi, you might protest, weren't you a theater major in college?  Why, yes! Again, I always had a role to play. That was not precisely me on the stage. Rather, it's a fairly clever way of hiding.  But Christi, you might scold, didn't you host parties at your house whenever you could and teach dog training classes to groups of people on a daily basis?  Yep, and I'm pretty sure "teacher" and "hostess" are roles with well-defined parameters.

The culmination of a very full social calendar in the Twin Cities was a surprise 50th birthday party for me at a friend's home.  If you are introverted, you might understand the horror of being the center of attention without clearly defined boundaries for an indeterminate amount of time.  Luckily, I was able to refrain from hiding in the bathroom for the entire party.

As I started to question why such a thing would happen to me, I realized that it is completely my responsibility.  I am far, far too good at masking my social anxiety.  Many of my closest friends admitted that they'd had no idea that such a thing would make me nervous.  That's on me. And that's why I might be a coward. Why mask at all?  Why not just come out and admit that parties take a toll. My husband, of course, knows this. He's seen me completely shut down after a party.  Entire rides home pass in total silence, recuperating.  And there are a few other people who know about my sensitivity only because we've directly discussed it (not because they see me freaking out at a party).

One could argue that it's not necessary to show off one's weaknesses all the time to everyone.  However, I feel that I need to come clean about this one, if only to make sure that I'm never the target of such a well-meaning, thoughtful and lovely gesture ever again!  I'm an Introvert. And I suffer from social anxiety.  If pushed too far, I will self medicate with cocktails.  And I will pay for the effort of seeming upbeat and cheerful later.  I will require lots and lots of quiet, sometimes for days.  The last few months of socializing have left me feeling the distinct lack of silence.  When we move on from Chicago, our last social stop for awhile, I suspect I'll soak in the silence like a hot bath for weeks before needing so much as a phone call.

So, cowardice?  Self-preservation?  Maybe it's a bit of both.  Either way, I'm done hiding it.

The Kindness of Strangers. Yes, Period.

There could have been several titles for this post.  Among the front runners were: I Love My Husband, Side Trips are Stupid and I Hate the Internet.  But ultimately, given the recent events in Virginia, kindness won out (as it always should).

I rarely have so much to say.  My entries generally, I think, scream "Brevity!"  But today, I find myself brimming with words.

We had one of our very worst days on the road today. Before I go any further, let me assure you that by "worst day", I mean a pretty excellent day by the standards of most people.  I mean, let's not forget that we are retired.  We were not in a hurry.  We didn't need an expensive repair on our rig or truck.  And we didn't have to be to work the next day.  I really do understand how lucky we are, and I am grateful that our bad days are on a small scale now.  Anyway, this particular day was completely unnecessary.  It is a side trip to see the solar eclipse, an event that I am assured will be well worth our struggles.  But to my mind, the teeth-rattling, bone-jarring, head-shaking roads that make up Minnesota and Iowa are among the worst we've experienced thus far, and no amount of moon-blacking-out-the-sun greatness can overcome that headache. I truly can not do this sensation justice in this post.  It was as I imagine a shaken toddler must feel when its parents are overcome in a fit of fear and anger right after it has run directly into traffic in the Target parking lot...except for 6 hours straight. At least the toddler gets a secure, bolstering hug to stabilize it after the nerve-wracking strain.

Besides the incredible discomfort, the bike that we had stashed on the back of the RV came loose. It did a fair amount of scratching and flailing around back there before we lashed it back on its moorings.  I can't yet assess my husband's frame of mind on that score, because there are bigger fish to fry.  When we arrived at our destination, I experienced a bit of Deliverance. Our host for the week struggled with the basic facts of where we should put our rig and how we should hook it up.  It was a 7 hour day, so my patience with Billy (oh yes, that is his real name) can only be described as heroic. I even smiled at him encouragingly. Where the heck is my Oscar? When we finally backed into our spot, our leveling system was so thwarted by how steep the hill was that it bowed out of the negotiations completely. I think we're level now, several hours later, but only by the sheer force of my husband's will. Our RV had nothing to do with it.

As all of this was going on, recent events in Virginia permeated our air space.  I tend not to lash out at hate groups on social media, nor do I feel the need to cast blame on our President or my fellow citizens.  These pitiful little groups were here long before any one President took office.  And they, sadly, will be here long after I or any one President will.  I do not wish to make light of the events in Charlottesville. In fact, I won't comment on them at all here, because it's far too large a topic. What I will do, however, is take to task those who have scolded anyone who won't engage in the dialogue on social media.  I have been passively admonished this week for being quiet.  A few of my friends, and a few "news" outlets have suggested that Silence Implies Consent.  How I have gritted my teeth over this attack!  Silence does NOT imply consent, any more than it makes one complicit.  I don't throw my thoughts about a great variety of topics out on social media, but that doesn't mean I condone evil. The reason I, and I think many others, have refused to jump on the latest train of fear-mongering is that we see that it gains nothing.  Fueling the fire of division and hatred makes it stronger. The fights I choose are smaller, more personal. And dare I say it? They're more effective. If I can change one person's mind about their thought process, I win.

So why this title?  Why kindness?  Well.  Remember the bike making a break for freedom?  The reason we caught that at all was because of the generosity of a stranger in his truck, signaling for us to pull over.  Not only did he alert us to our bicycle's escape attempt, he actually got out of his own car, on a busy highway, to make sure that we were able to secure it.  Oh, and that leveling system?  Our next door neighbor in this park helped us to level our rig manually. What's in it for him? Not a darn thing, except perhaps the knowledge that he did what he could on one day.

We have been doing this, traveling across the United States, for well over a year now. And I can say without any doubt, because I have experienced it first hand, that more people are kind than are not.  People are, by and large, inherently good.  They don't need to be bullied or scolded to be so. They simply are. And today will be a better day.  

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.