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.