Eat, Sleep & Drink

Places visited (according to Sienna’s on-going list): 43

Campgrounds: 28

Miles traveled: 4,700

States visited: 18

National Parks: 17

State Parks: 6

Days: 118 (the same number of days we have gone without ordering anything on Amazon!)

Number of shirts Nick has bought that don’t fit: 3

Number of hats Teagan has bought: 2 (not nearly enough as far as she is concerned)

Number of times Ava has asked if there is a Sephora nearby: insert infinity symbol here

Number of sweatshirts Sienna has bought with place names on them: 3

Number of showers we have taken: …and, now, on to other things.

I tried to make Oatmeal yesterday morning. Here’s how it went. First I had to clean the sand off my feet and climb up on to the dinette couch to reach the food pantry above the table. We are all too short to reach up there. I removed all the bread products (bagels, english muffins, sliced bread, french bread (moldy)) and retrieved the oatmeal. Then I put all the bread products back and poured…shoot, the fresh water is in the outdoor kitchen. Put the shoes back on and go get the jug of water. Back inside and dig the small pot out of the upper cabinet. I have to take the lid off the big one first, pull the small pot out, put the large lid back on. Finally I have water heating up. Oh darn, I need all the fixin’s. Back to the pantry, shoes off, climb up, remove all the bread, get the walnuts and craisans and put the bread back in. Now I add the oatmeal and cook it for five using the broken microwave’s timer (all it’s good for now. That and storage). Dang it, I forgot the brown sugar…yes, it’s behind all the bread products and the peanut butter and chips. Ok, I finally have all the gosh darn ingredients together. It’s finished cooking. I need the cinnamon. That’s kept in a small bin in a different cabinet. I pull that out and all the cups and other stuff fall into the space it occupies. When I put it back after using the cinnamon I have to recreate its little niche. I eat and it’s not like, after all that, I’m eating some culinary masterpiece, instead just a regular old bowl of overcooked oatmeal. 

I won’t go into the time I sprinkled cumin on it thinking it was cinnamon.

We had a time recently where we ran out of fresh water and ice and had no other drinks. We do not drink the water out of our water tank or from city water at campgrounds. We are constantly buying water or filling jugs at water bottle filling stations in campgrounds or gas stations or grocery stores. On this night we ran out and sat there looking at each other, ‘Do you have any water in your water bottle? No. Do you? No. What about in the cooler? No, there’s nothing in there. What about…’ The next day we drove to the store in town and each bought ourselves our own bottle of ice cold water and man did it taste good!

Wendy and I talk about how our life is simple, yet hard. Things – like aforementioned oatmeal – do not come easy. But our day to day existence and lifestyle is simple. We do not have multiple calendars to consult, different school schedules to navigate, jobs and appointments and meetings and things to juggle. It is just us. We do everything together and that lends a simplicity to lots of things. But sometimes the daily tasks are harder than we’d like.

For example, propane. We have a stove we cook with outside that takes 1lb propane tanks. One night Wendy started cooking and ran out of gas halfway through. So I went to grab the second tank. Shit, empty. Ok, here take the large tank hose adapter and let’s plug right into a 20lb tank. But first I have to remove the tank from the RV. Take off the big tank cover, flip the dual valve regulator knob, unscrew the big wing nut, unscrew the RV hose, take it off the stand and manhandle it over to Wendy. We screw it in and fire it back up but the power output is half what it should be. What?! Ok, I have an adapter that lets me move gas from a big tank to a small tank. Let me get that. Unscrew the big tank hose adapter and thread my adapter on, flip the tank over on the picnic table (but I need the wood blocks to hold it up enough to thread on the small tank). Finally, I do this and listen to gas whistle through the valve into the small tank. I take it off, hand it to Wendy and she is back in business cooking the steak that is now cold and half cooked on the stove.

Or, weather. We got caught in a huge thunderstorm that roared through Beltsville, MD one night and of course we had the awning out from earlier. Wendy and I awoke to its banging against the camper. You can’t bring it in once it gets that bad. So I went out in the storm in my underwear and held on to the thing for dear life while the wind and rain lashed through. It survived…my underwear didn’t. We had strong winds in the Outer Banks and the sand got everywhere and all efforts to keep it at bay were futile. I waged battle (packed everything up outside and stowed it, got a brush for everyone to use on their feet, closed windows on the windward side) and lost. Or, Tropical Storm Ophelia. It is never fun (well, maybe a little in a twisted kind of way) to clear out of a campground closing for potential natural disaster purposes.

Or, sleep. Sometimes it’s 90 degrees and humid and we have no power and someone decided not to bring a generator. So we lay in bed sweating and trying not to move too much. Or it’s a beautiful night, calm and clear and dry and there are neighbors talking loudly around their campfire smoking butts with the smoke wafting in through our open windows. So we close them, no it’s too stifling. Open them, cigarette smoke. Sometimes the rain is so loud there is absolutely no chance of sleep. I lay and listen to it drum against the roof knowing it is just looking for any way to get in. Teagan and I, after one such night, went to a hardware store the next day and bought everyone ear plugs. Some nights the girls can’t sleep and they lay chatting (or oftentimes arguing) until midnight and I can’t sleep until they quiet down. 

Or, driving. The rig drives well when it is loaded right and it’s not windy. But it’s always windy and it’s never loaded right. So we make do. People drive like a-holes and won’t let me change lanes when I need to. Highways are surprisingly difficult to follow and construction and lane closures are rampant. Rush hour traffic around a big city is like a magnet and we never seem to time it any different. When a semi roars by in an adjacent lane it makes the whole trailer move. So I hold the wheel loosely and don’t fight it. Gas stations are never big enough and often I have to back out of a pump lane. Some campground layouts make no sense and we often scratch our heads wondering how they intended us to park here.

Or, the constant nagging, subtle fear and uncertainty behind everything. Will the RV stand up to this constant abuse and continue to provide a viable home for all of us? Can I keep us safe from bad people, big storms, distracted drivers, fickle governments (think potential shutdowns canceling my pre-arranged Nat’l Park stays), broken equipment, low spirits, faltering motivation.

And, of course we always seem to be out of something: water, gas, propane, food, ice, clean clothes, dry towels, charge in our phones/computers, and so on and so on.

So I think Wendy was right when she said our life is simple, but hard. Before it was so easy to make a bowl of oatmeal, cook dinner, stay out of the rain, get a decent night’s sleep, drive to town but it was very hard to coordinate our schedules, be on time for all our obligations, get everyone where they needed to be and still have time for each other.

It’s funny, I’m not sure which I prefer: a simple, hard life or a complicated, easy one. Maybe there is something in the middle? Please tell me it doesn’t include an RV.