FAQs

I’m calling this post, FAQ, but, frankly, I don’t have enough readers for questions to be put to me frequently. I could call this, “Misconceptions” or maybe “Complaints” if you think about this from my point of view. Whatever, I’ll let you figure out what I should call these. I have categorized them, at least.

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Leaving the Road

If you love nature so much, why didn’t you buy a house in the country?

I do love nature, and so does Tracy, and it’s not like we’ve had enough of it. It’s that living in a house out in the boondocks is a very different experience than occasionally parking your trailer out in the boondocks. 

With our trailer, if we got tired of a location, we left. We felt the bliss of isolation out in various deserts and on isolated mountain ranges, but we didn’t have to live there all the time. We didn’t have to routinely go into town for our errands or deal with wild animals on our land or feel threatened by wackos who are neighbors like you do when you live out in the sticks. We had it both ways: we could live in urban areas when we wanted and rural ones when we wanted. That does not mean I want to live in rural areas, only.

Out on the road, I enjoyed boondocking maybe even more than Tracy did, and yet I felt even more lonely than he did. I wanted to be part of a community very much, and that’s one reason why we picked an urban area to buy a house. Community. 

We’re also tired of so much driving. It’s worth it when you’re driving to beautiful places every week, but, damn, it’s not worth it to run to the grocery store. We’d both lived within walking distance of stores and restaurants and shops, and we’re both ready for the convenience and slightly higher sophistication of urban life over life in the sticks. 

Plus, we’ve both had enough of each other’s company! Time for some friends. I have joined a ukulele play-along group (and signed up for lessons), and I’m working on volunteering. Friends are bound to come from that, right? I have yet to make one, but I am so ready.  

If you hated people in campgrounds so much, how will you deal with having neighbors in the city?

This answer is twofold but I’ll be quick about it. 1) In campgrounds, you have a constant stream of people living within inches of your bed, and the stream changes every few days with new wackos living within inches of your bed. In a neighborhood, the people are there to stay. You get to know them. You know who to avoid and who you like. 2) In campgrounds, people go to party. They party, they yell at their spouses and children, the children run wild. Riles are off in campgrounds because people are on vacation. Do people act like that in your neighborhood? Point made. 

Why are you complaining so much about this lifestyle change? Why don’t you just buy a trailer and go back on the road part-time?

This one’s complicated, but I’ll simplify it best I can. For one, my money choices are my own, and they’re private. You plan your retirement one way, then suddenly have to spend $500k on a house, unexpectedly. It doesn’t make for an easy decision what else to do. Let me deal with that decision privately, please. 

Another part of this answer has to do what fulltiming was to us, which is a lifestyle, not travel. Think of it as being in a cult, or like following a rock band, or being a monk, or spending time on the International Space Station. The lifestyle we had was immersion in nature. Once we got off the road, the illusion snapped closed, and we were back in the real world with you. 

Take, for example here, the week we spent in Death Valley. We didn’t go back to our hotel every night after hiking.  We sat outside our trailer each night, watching the sun set, listening to the coyotes, looking at the stars. The next morning, as I walked Banjo I watched the sun rise, I saw how the light changed the way the sand looked around me. Morning after morning, evening after evening, day after day. At the end of our week, we didn’t go home to rejoin the grind of work; we went on to the next place where we immersed ourselves in nature yet again. It felt seamless, though, because we were always on the road. 

Yes, we perhaps could get a trailer and go somewhere for a week. But we’re no longer living that full-timing lifestyle. The illusion has snapped closed for us. 

There are other reasons, but I’ll move on to the next FAQ category.

Where I Chose to Live

Why didn’t you buy a house in Michigan near Finn?

Once he’s finished with his PhD program, he’ll move somewhere else, wherever he finds a great job or a great partner or a lifestyle he loves of his own. Could be California, could be Europe, could be Madison(!!). I’m not worried about where he’ll live, because I’m going to be stalking him and sleeping in his closet no matter where (I looked for the post where I wrote about this, and can’t find it. I’ve written a lot of posts.)

Why didn’t you go back to the East Coast?

The East Coast is so full of people. So many cities! So many interstate highways! Plus, I’ve lived there already. I’ve lived in the South and the Pacific NW. I feel like being adventurous, so let’s try the Midwest. It’s as foreign as the moon out to me. Tracy keeps laughing at me when I expect things to be like the East here. “Slow down, Shelly. You’re in the Midwest now.”

How will you walk Banjo now, if you couldn’t in a campground?

In campgrounds, people walk their dogs like they’re in a dog parade, and that’s what I used to call the noon walk. Dog Parade time! Dogs freaking everywhere. Plus, little children are sent out to walk the high-strung boxer with just a long rope as a leash. Drunk people walk their three dachshunds while they talk on the phone and ride their unicycle. And, there’s nowhere to go to avoid them: just one narrow road, with people’s off-leash dogs in the campsites on either side.

Here I have another sidewalk across the street to go to, or the empty street itself. I rarely have to resort to moving, though, because people here are aware of other dogs and they’re respectful. When you’re on a corner and see someone walking their dog down one sidewalk, you cross to the other sidewalk. Easy peasy, no need to worry. They don’t want their dogs to intersect with yours as much as you don’t want it. Unlike at campgrounds, where the goal is chaos.

I’m also sleeping better, which has reduced my anxiety and depression by a million fold.

Our House

Why did you pick an old house, if you don’t love all the work that comes with old houses?

We wanted the location, not the house. Our neighborhood is full of progressive-thinking people; we can walk or bike to nearly everything we need; we have a small yard for Banjo and, after the renovation, living space all on one floor for when we get old. To get those things, we had to buy a crappy old house. 

Why don’t you do a little renovation at a time?

In terms of money, we’re retired, so the money we have right now is the most money we’ll ever have. It’s not like we’ll save more for a later project. 

In terms of desires, we desire a nice house right now! We both lived in old houses previously, and neither of us is excited to drag this renovation business out. We had to buy old to live in our premo neighborhood near all the cool stuff, so we’ll make changes asap to start living this life. No more freaking transitions. We’re done with them. Can you dig?

Miscellaneous

Why don’t you drive?

I do drive, but I never learned to drive our one-ton diesel truck (that’s a long story, and I’m running out of time and space here). As soon as we’re finished with the renovation, we’ll sell the truck and buy a vehicle more suited to city driving and me driving, and I’ll be back behind the wheel again. When needed though, which I hope is rarely!

When can you get off Methadone?

Unfortunately, never. At least, that’s what it looks like from this point in time. Perhaps medical science will change, but right now I have an incurable condition (Restless Legs Syndrome, RLS) that only increases with severity as you age. Which freaks me out quite a lot, because I’m on what’s considered the max dose right now, and I’m still experiencing RLS quite a bit. But, I’ll deal with that as things progress, one way or another. For right now I can tell you I am quite strongly drugged up. If you get a weird response from me online, know that I am officially wacked out.

It’s great you love getting advice from readers!

I wish this were a FAQ, because then I could answer it each time someone says this as they give me tons of unsolicited advice in response to whatever I’ve written here. It’s true sometimes I do ask for advice, like when I asked if you subscribers could read my weekly email on your phones, or when I’ve asked pointed questions about what I’ve written so I can think about what I might put in my book. Generally, though, I’m not keen on getting advice that I didn’t ask for.

I know that that’s what happens when you write a blog. You say stuff about your personal life here in public, and the public comes back to you with stuff about your personal life. But, dude, I pinged my blogging mentor, Midwest Mark so I could feel better hearing about how someone else suffers with this predicament (human nature, right?). But he responded with, “No, I’m glad I don’t have that problem!” 

Wait, it’s just me?!?

I understand in person that I get a lot of condescension. I’m a woman, I’m under 5 feet (I looked it up, and I’m at the third percentile of height for American women). I’m polite, often self-deprecating. I end statements with question marks, and I ask people their opinion a lot because I respect others and am interested in them. So, I don’t come off as authoritative in person.

But, dude, online, too? When I was traveling, I understood that people enjoyed telling me where they thought I should go and what they thought I should do when I’m there. But, now that I’m in place, it’s like readers think I’ve never lived in a house before. Or, done anything before. I get advice on my health, on Banjo’s health and behavior, on the house renovation. I get emails full of advice on how to carry bags out of Costco. I get facebook comments on how to deal with my insomnia. I get comments here in the blog telling me that change is a constant and I should get used to it.  

Have I tried such and such supplement for my thyroid? What, am I sure I have to have my thyroid out? Have I tried such and such for my insomnia? I am INSANE to take methadone; it’s the worst thing in the world you can put in your body. I should do the renovation slowly so as to spread out the financing. I should walk Banjo with a whistle, I should use such and such weather app, I should understand how our healthcare system works. I’m a funny writer, unless I talk about politics, which I shouldn’t. I have an obligation to use my platform to talk about politics. I’m insane to put personal stuff online. 

The unsolicited advice goes on and on.

Before you tell me that that’s what happens when you make your blog public (or that I do that to you!) let me say that, I know. Just like I know that living in a city comes with risks, that I could buy a trailer and go camping sometimes, that I can fly to visit Finn. 

I know it’s, in a way, complimentary. You think of me as a daughter (or granddaughter). As a friend in need of some help. That’s certainly my persona, which is my doing. It’s my shtick: Look at my predicament!

Thank you for reading my writing.

Thank you for taking the time and trouble to respond!

If you’ve never responded before, please do—I’m always polite in my counter-response, unlike right now.

Thank you (in advance) for refraining from giving me advice when I didn’t ask for it, because, believe me when I say this, people do love to give me advice. I’m an advice magnet. If you’ve thought of some advice to give me, know that ten other people have already given me (or are typing away right now with) that advice. 

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Here ends this installment of my FAQs, which I hate to end negatively, I do.  I had planned to write a fun, positive post immediately after this one so my blog wouldn’t have this as the main entry, but I’ve worn myself out complaining. Coming soon to this space: something fun and positive!  I promise. (Now, please no advice on how to be fun and postive. Ha!)