We're leaving TOMORROW! Maybe! Or maybe not.

Our plan is to leave tomorrow, but we're waiting for a critical Internet-related package, so we may or may not head out then. We've already pushed back one of our campground reservations in Tennessee just in case. We figure we might want to take our time getting there anyway. 

Today was an interesting combination of busyness, fun, and relaxation.

We woke up in the RV, which is currently parked in the driveway. Here's Sam demonstrating how the over-cab bunk is supposed to work:

He loves that space. It's entirely his own and he's excited about organizing it as he sees fit.

We made huge progress in cleaning out our house. Two rooms are entirely empty, a third contains only the items we plan to drop off and store at my parents' house, the kitchen is less of a disaster than it was yesterday, and the family room now houses only the stuff that we haven't moved to the RV yet.

Biscuit freaked out at all the emptiness and spent hours hiding behind the toilet; to make her more comfortable (and bathroom use a little more private), we created a cat fort out of a folding chair and towels:

We finished cleaning out my office and turned in my keys:

And then we had some time for making a delicious dinner and playing Try-To-Spray-Me-With-The-Water-Hose-Good-Luck-I-Have-A-Moldy-Umbrella:

We're in a little bit of hurry-up-and-wait mode, but it's fine. At this point, what's the rush?

Two days to go, and here's where we're at...

Major furniture recycled or rehomed: CHECK.

Messy house achievement: UNLOCKED.

That's salt all over the counter. I had a little salt grinder accident at lunchtime.

Even the resident ants took part in the mess-tivities:

(This is a good time to be an ant in this house: there are plenty of snacks, and at this point we're too lazy to try to get rid of them.)

By late this afternoon, we'd made some progress in terms of getting items out of the house and into the RV. At least the kitchen is starting to look a little emptier and less frenetic.

Take away message: Moving is never fun - regardless of whether you're moving into a new house or a tin can on wheels.

Thoughts on jobs, status, and doing something different

Today I taught my second-to-last on-ground class of the semester (or maybe ever? Who knows). I was leading a discussion about how people respond to natural disasters, trying to get my students to consider the economic, political, social, etc. effects of unpredictable, high-impact events like volcanic eruptions.

In one of the scenarios we examined, the (imaginary) owner of an (imaginary) sandwich shop was explaining how a small nearby eruption had hurt his business. Here's a paraphrase of the off-topic discussion that ensued:

Student: Who cares about a sandwich shop? Maybe he should have tried owning a real business.

Me: ...That IS a real business. Think about all of the restaurants and cafes you've been to. Those are all real businesses. This person could have a business degree. Maybe he's making six figures a year. Who knows?

Student: Yeah, but a sandwich shop is just so... sad. That person could have done so many other things with his life.

And then several other people nodded in agreement.

I was flummoxed. To me, owning your own business means creativity, hard work, persistence, frustration, and careful money management. It's a meaningful and important responsibility. I don't approach the cashier at a store and think, "Your life sucks, and that's why you work at a deli."

On the other hand, I could kind of see where they're coming from. When I was in college, I thought I was going to be the most special of the special snowflakes.  I was going to graduate, attend grad school, get a great job that I loved, spend my career moving up in rank and salary, make a difference, change the world, maybe appear on Oprah, and retire with a healthy bank account. Why wouldn't I think that way? That's what everyone tells kids they can and should do. Nobody ever says, "Wouldn't it be so cool if you grew up and made turkey club sandwiches for cranky tourists?"

Just for context, I'm pretty sure most of my students are a little loopy with end-of-semester madness, so I don't want to judge their sleep deprivation-induced commentary too harshly. But it did make me wonder what they'd think if they knew that I'm quitting my job to go live in an RV, homeschool my kid, travel around the country, and not work a 9 to 5 gig. 

My almost-empty office

I feel like people in the United States are obsessed with work and status. Apparently, even my students are obsessed with status, even though they haven't graduated yet and may not be fully aware of just how challenging, stressful, and limited the job market can be. If you're a lawyer, a doctor, a professor, a successful entrepreneur, or an engineer, people automatically assume you're smart, dedicated, and SOMEBODY. If you're 50 years old and bagging groceries at Kroger or pouring coffee at Starbucks, they assume that either you couldn't cut it or you're on your way to something bigger and better.  

(Side story: After I earned my Master's degree, I took time off from school and worked as a Starbucks barista. I was burned out on academia and wanted to have a new experience. On at least two occasions, people who had no idea of my history or personal life took it upon themselves to encourage me to "go back to school" and "make something of myself." "You're still young," one older man said. "You should at least get your college diploma."

I can't recall, but I hope I decafed him for his ignorant commentary.

And yes, baristas do that sometimes - if a customer is a jerk and the all-powerful Starbucks Big Brother isn't watching through the security cameras. Be respectful of the person who wields the caffeination power!)

One of the best places we've called home is Santa Cruz, California, where people truly seem to work to live. Rarely did anyone ever ask us what we did for a living. They seemed more concerned with whether we surfed and how we felt about social issues. Nobody cared whether you earned money at the local pizza parlor or in a fancy office building in San Jose. It just didn't matter, and it was refreshing to have entire conversations in which nobody ever mentioned their career or how they were planning to move up in the world.

I'm tired of the job/work obsession, and I wish that our country would be less focused on that aspect of life. Is it so awful to have a job that's just a job - nothing more? If you're not stressed out, exhausted, and anxious all the time, does that mean you're not earning your keep? Is it so terrible to not want to move up a career ladder or become wealthy and "important" (in quotes because really, even if you think your job is important, is it really that crucial?) 

I'm not saying we should do nothing and mooch off everyone else. I'm certainly not saying that income isn't important! Trent and I do worry about that, and we strategize all the time. I'm just saying that I'm looking forward to exploring what life is like when my life doesn't totally revolve around my job. 

The kitchen gear not voted off the RV island

We've made amazing progress in reducing the amount of STUFF we own and identifying what we want to take with us. Today it was all about the kitchen gear.

Here's a rundown of what we decided to take with us on the road:

1. Utensils: Four regular knives, four forks (one currently in use), four spoons, two serving spoons.

2. Knives: We like to cook, so these are important.

3. Dinnerware: Three plastic bowls, four plastic plates, four small bamboo plates, one small bamboo cereal bowl.

4. Pour-over coffee maker: We had a press pot, but cleaning it is messy. On our last shakedown RV trip, I managed to spray a full cup of soggy grounds all over the interior of our rig. This coffee maker is much easier to wash.

5. Variety of necessary kitchen paraphernalia: Stirring spoons, measuring spoons, measuring cups, bottle opener, bag clips, grater, peeler, spatula, etc.

6. Mugs and cups: So far we've got it narrowed down to four ceramic mugs, two plastic camp mugs, one beer glass, and three juice glasses. This is a small percentage of the glassware we previously owned. We need to make another cut here, but for some reason I'm having trouble letting go. Of drinking glasses. Yeah. 

7. Pyrex measuring cup: I think we've had this since we got married. It's awesome for measuring liquids as well as heating up water in the microwave. It's coming with us.

8. Pots and pans: One wooden salad bowl, one plastic mixing bowl (with handy gripper base), Pampered Chef mixing bowl (I can't part with it - I use it almost every day), saucepan, 8 x 8 glass pan.

9. Instant Pot: This thing is amazing. Every 5-star review you've seen is totally justified. Beans go from dried to fully cooked in less than 30 minutes, and it has a crockpot mode for soups and stews.

10. Our beloved, grimy toaster oven: We really thought about giving this away, but we use it all the time. We make toast in it, bake bread in it, and roast vegetables in it. We'll house it in one of the storage bays, pull it out when we're in camp, and use it as part of our outdoor kitchen.

Going through our belongings to figure out what we need to take, what we want to take, what's easy to let go of, and what we find ourselves attached to has been an interesting and informative experience in itself. What does it say about me that I have a death grip on a coffee mug? (Although come to think of it, maybe that's not too surprising...) What does it mean when we are desperate to sell things we thought we just HAD to have when we purchased them? Should we be giving out plastic- and candy-filled goodie bags at the end of every child's birthday party? (Answer from someone who just spent an hour tossing these foot-piercing pieces of cheap crap: NO! STOP WITH THE GOODIE BAGS.)

One thing I've realized is that I want to become a more thoughtful consumer. I want to spend more time weighing the pros and cons of my purchases - not only in terms of cost, but also in terms of space, emotional aspects, environmental effects, and social impact. Am I buying things because I truly need them or because I want to keep up with the latest trends I see on Instagram, Pinterest, and HGTV? Are the things I'm buying worth the price and the space? What is the cost of disposing of something that looks kind of ugly but that is still completely usable? 

Roadschooling: Our current plans

A couple of people have asked us about our plans for homeschooling (or roadschooling) Sam while we're on the road. Although we recognize that our approach will evolve, our current strategy is to use a combination of child-led discovery and a more traditional approach.

Looking cool in Trent's old army jacket

Sam loves to read and enjoys history, so we selected the highly-rated Story of the World series to cover the social studies bases this year. He's already about 1/3 of the way through the first book and has trouble putting it down to go to bed.

For math, we picked the Life of Fred series. Trent's sister has homeschooled her kids for years; her whole family loves Life of Fred. It's not a typical math workbook. It consists of funny stories in which Fred has to use math to solve various challenges and problems. I think this may be a bit of an adjustment for him; he's used to more traditional math workbooks. But we'll give it a try and see how it goes.

Writing is a crucial skill, and I think the best way to learn how to write well is to just... do it. A lot. So he'll be journaling throughout our time on the road. He'll also be sending letters and postcards to his relatives. At times, I may help him edit his work and write a second draft, but mostly I just want him to have fun with it. I want him to see writing as a way to express his feelings, work through his experiences, and develop his ideas. We'll also be working on some basic grammar skills using a Scholastic Success grammar workbook.

Learning from Biscuit, our feline sage

We won't have a structured science curriculum. Trent and I are both scientists, and we both believe that scientific inquiry is something that all of us do naturally if given the opportunity and headspace. In our opinion, children are the best scientists in the world. They're keen observers. They ask tons of questions without fear of "sounding stupid," formulate creative and unbiased hypotheses, and treat the testing of those hypotheses as a form of play. At this point, we'd like the scientific learning to just unfold in a natural way. (He's also totally addicted to science programs like Cosmos, so when we can, we'll give him the opportunity to zone out with those shows.)

He's also a bit addicted to the iPad. Oh well.

Other than that, we're going to let Sam's interests and our journey guide his learning. If we're in Texas, for example, we'll learn a little about Texas history, climate, major cities, and social issues. If we're in the mountains, we'll talk about how mountains form, high elevation ecosystems, etc. We'll take advantage of local museums, parks, and concerts.

We also want to give Sam a chance to just be a kid - to ride around campgrounds on his bike, hang out with other kids, explore. Playing is such a crucial part of learning. Simply having this adventure with us will be a tremendous learning experience for him.

Those are the pie-in-the-sky plans. We'll see how it actually pans out. I think we're flexible enough to tailor our approach to Sam's specific learning style.

Holding pattern

We leave in 2.5 weeks! [insert googly-eyed emoji here]

Until then, we're in a bit of a holding pattern. Our focus right now is on cleaning up the house and figuring out what we want to save and what we still need to recycle or throw out. Currently, though, the house is a bit of a disaster area. This photo makes the situation look better than it actually is.

Although we're in disbelief that our departure date is so close, we're definitely excited. I interviewed Trent, Sam, Biscuit, and myself (can you interview yourself? I say yes) to get their thoughts on the impending move into the RV:

Q: What are three words you would use to describe our impending travels?

Sam: Do we have to do this right now? [I think he meant the interview.]

Trent: Unknown. Different. Exciting.

Me: Adventure. Nature. Problem solving.

Biscuit: My. Moving. Palace.

Q: What are you most excited about?

Sam: Everything, except the parts where we get really mad at each other.

Trent: A change in lifestyle, and the fact that it'll be easier to move when you get bored. [Me: And by "you," you mean... Trent: I mean you. Susanne.]

Me: Experiencing new places and being closer to nature.

Biscuit: Looking at hot guy cats out the window. Meow.

Q: What are you most worried about?

Sam: The water not functioning and you getting really mad. [Me: And by "you," you mean... Sam: You. Mom.]

Trent: Money.

Me: First of all, I don't know what you mean by "really mad." Second, I worry about RV issues, like the roof leaking and damaging everything and then we have to live full time with Biscuit in a tent because that's all we have left.

Biscuit: I am not living in a tent. Sorry.

Q: What's our biggest hurdle before we leave?

Sam: Please stop asking me questions. I'm trying to relax.

Trent: What Internet setup is right. Also, how are we going to get rid of our broken treadmill?

Me: What do we do with our gross old mattresses?

Biscuit: Catching all the bugs you've let into the house over the last few days.

Q: What is one thing you can't part with - something you have to take with you even if it isn't practical?

Sam: Biscuit. [Me: I meant other than members of the family. Sam: Biscuit. That's my final answer.]

Trent: My frisbees. I don't want to get rid of any of them, but I have six of them.

Me: Real glassware and my two favorite coffee mugs.

Biscuit: My eight bajillion cat toys. Even though nobody ever plays with me and I'm the most neglected, misunderstood cat ever.

The Great Stuff Purge, Part 3: Garage Sale

Before dewinterizing Clark this past weekend, we held a last-minute garage sale in an attempt to get rid of as much of our stuff as possible. Although many full-time RVers put at least some of their belongings in storage, we want to avoid that. First, we don't want to spend any of our money on a storage unit (cash is going to be kind of tight, and we'll need it for essentials), and second, we don't want to be burdened by things. We plan to keep and carry only what we really need. We want to feel light.

Our decision to have a garage sale was pretty last minute - less than 72 hours beforehand. We batch-mailed about 300 people from my workplace, stuck a sign at the end of our road, and crossed our fingers that someone would show up. (Did I mention that we've never had a garage sale before and had no idea what we were doing?)

Then we rushed around dusting and sticking price tags on everything.

Thankfully, Saturday turned out to be a beautiful day. We got up early, moved Clark, and started setting up shop in our driveway. Sam totally stepped up to the plate: he was out there from the get go, helping to move things around and organize our wares in an aesthetically-pleasing fashion (neither Trent nor I have ANY. style). We were really proud of him.

The sale was supposed to start at 9 AM, but the first people showed up around 8:40. I guess that's the thing about shopping garage sales: you only get the good stuff if you get there first. We didn't think about that and were still trying to shove our couch out the front door when our first buyers came through.

All in all, it was a huge success. We sold our couch, a TV stand, a desk, our kitchen table and chairs, mirrors, picture frames, glassware, mixing bowls, kitchen gear, toys, a bajillion Hot Wheels cars, and even an old litter box. 

Whew.

This is what our house looks like now: an open space covered in random bits and kibbles.

One thing that's surprised us is how well Sam's adjusting to this change. We expect that at some point it will catch up with him, and we're (sort of) prepared for the fallout. I mean, his life is definitely going to be upended for a while. But he seems super excited about life on the road, unconventional schooling, visiting relatives and friends across the country, and hanging out in his bunk. So at least at the moment, he's happy to give up some of his things in exchange for an adventure.

We dewinterized Clark. Nothing broke and nobody cried.

Last night we drove Clark to Two Rivers Campground in Kentucky to flush out his systems and dewinterize him. We were nervous about this because we'd never done this before and our user's manual is not always helpful (sometimes it references other models, rendering the instructions kind of useless). We had a walk through when we purchased Clark, but the guy giving the tour explained everything really quickly; as a long-time RVer, he clearly seemed to think some of our questions were rather ignorant (I'm sure they were).

Besides, Trent and I have a long history of accidentally breaking stuff or buying things that turn out to be duds. We were concerned that this could be the moment when we realized that Clark isn't as fit as he looks. This is going to be our home and we paid a lot of money for it, so the thought of realizing we'd made a bad purchase totally freaked us out.

We chose Two Rivers because it is close and relatively inexpensive ($36 per night with a Good Sam discount), and has full hook-ups. Not knowing what to expect in terms of quality, we were pleased when we arrived at a clean, well-equipped campground with flat RV sites, picnic tables, plenty of space, and a viewing platform overlooking the river. 

After initial setup (making sure Clark was level and hooking up the electric), our first task was to find the low-point drains and close them. These drains allow water to drain out of the rig; what we wanted, however, was to fill up our freshwater tank, so the drains needed to be shut.

There are two low-point drains in our rig (don't I sound all official when I say "rig"?) One is easy to access and was already closed. The second is located underneath the bathroom sink... and to get to it, I had to stuff my arm down a tiny space behind the lowest drawer in the sink vanity. But I couldn't actually *see* the valve, so we spent a good 45 minutes or so using our phones to take pictures and orient ourselves with the setup.

See that little white rectangular thing? That's the low point drain valve.

So I stuck my arm down there and turned it, and then we turned on the water... which proceeded to cascade from the undercarriage of the vehicle to the cement pad. I stuck my hand in there again and rotated the valve, thinking that maybe I had not positioned it correctly. Still a waterfall.

At that point we decided to give it a rest and just connect our pipes to the city water so that we could flush out the antifreeze in the pipes. We were thrilled when that worked. We made a little video to document our success.

Next step: activate the hot water heater. We got it to heat up water... but the hot water wasn't flowing through the pipes. Trent spent some time interpreting the owner's manual and realized that (predictably) a valve was closed. The manual suggested that we could locate this mystery valve by opening up the grate beneath the fridge, so we did that. Once again, we couldn't actually *see* the valve until we stuck our phone in there and snapped a picture. Once again, I had to stuff my arm into this tiny space in order to access it.

No joke - here's how my arm looks today:

But it worked! We opened up the taps and voila - hot water.

The last thing we needed to figure out was how to open up the low point drain. Trent posted an SOS on our Facebook RV group asking for help, and within minutes someone responded to let us know that these valves don't work by rotation... they work by pushing them in or pulling them out. 

Duh. Why didn't we think of that?

By this point my arm was actually bruised and swollen, but we were determined to get it figured out. It was worth the effort because it totally worked! We were able to clean and fill the freshwater tank and rinse the system.

All in all, it was an extremely successful trip. It allowed us get to know Clark better, boosted our confidence in our ability to problem solve without destroying anything, and demonstrated just how helpful the RVer community can be.

Three more weeks until we're doing this full time!

Certified

(Susanne is your driver for this post.)

Things are a little crazy right now.

I'm teaching a spring term class - a one-month intensive course on volcanic hazards.

I'm training for my new job.

Trent's working two jobs.

Sam is finishing up third grade and has a seemingly endless parade of homework, meetings, and standardized tests to deal with.

And then there's the whole moving-our-lives-into-a-house-on-wheels aspect of things. We've been busy re-homing our belongings, dealing with paperwork, and cleaning.

As part of our preparation, we've researched numerous organizations and clubs that we think will be beneficial for our RV lifestyle. We now have memberships with Escapees mail service, Thousand Trails RV parks, Good Sam RV Club (for discounts on gas and campsites), and the ASTC Travel Passport Program (for access to science centers all over the country).

I think we're all eager to hit the road. Just one more month before Clark becomes our roving home! I'm glad we've taken so much time to plan and prepare, but at a certain point, you just have to go and do it.