One of the wonderful benefits of living life on the road is the ability to be spontaneous and make decisions on a whim.  We have some destinations in mind, but the days, routes, and pit stops along the way are flexible. On the flip side, life on the road also means we need to be prepared for the unexpected, and ensure that hiccups and kinks in our plans don’t disrupt ourflow. Naturally we learned this lesson the hard way several times on the very first day of our trip.

The first disruption was that we had to leave a day late because even after transporting two pickup truck loads of our stuff into storage (thanks Katie and Danny!), we still had WAY too much stuff. So we spent all day Saturday cleaning and packing, and stuffed the teardrop full of items to be stored at Andrew’s grandparents’ house in San Clemente (thanks Barb and Garry!). The back of the truck was also jam-packed, so Zephyr had to ride shotgun with Andrew. Imagine a 6’2” man holding a 95 lbs. husky mix on his lap. Yes, it was hilarious, although I do think Zephyr would ride the entire trip that way if given the chance.

Even more hilarious was when, less than five minutes away from our house, we heard a loud crash behind us. Andrew yelled, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” and I quickly pulled over, not knowing what had happened. Andrew jumped out of the truck barefoot and ran around the street in the middle of the night picking up the detritus of road life that had tumbled out of the teardrop when one of the side doors popped open. Note to selves: always double-check all doors and latches before embarking. I sat in the truck, exhausted and overwhelmed, and laughed hysterically at the absurdity of it all while Zephyr eyed me suspiciously.

The next day we drove up highway 395 in the Eastern Sierras. Our first stop was Bishop, where we met our friends Jill and Amy and took an impromptu trip to the Tri-county fair. This was where I experienced my first (and hopefully not last) demolition derby. We had a great time, but something told us we should leave early to make sure Zephyr was ok in the truck. This was our first day after all! As we walked back to the truck we discussed how we were going to install grates on the windows in the back to make it extra secure since Zephyr is an escape artist. Literally in the middle of this conversation Zephyr comes running down the street toward us, wet and anxious. He had busted the screen out and made a break for it. We don’t know where he went or what he saw, but I like to think he needed his own solo adventure to start the trip off right. And yes, we did install those grates!

Many of my readers were at our wedding and so are well aware that it didn’t exactly go off without a hitch. Andrew’s pants split down the crotch during our pre-ceremony photo shoot, we were an hour late to the ceremony (leaving our guests sweating in the sunny Joshua Tree heat), and our photographer’s digital camera ate some of the photos (aint technology grand?). In this case it is only fitting that our grand adventure started with some minor inconveniences. After all, when things don’t go according to plan, it’s best to lower your expectations, and lowered expectations allow us to marvel at all the small wonders we encounter along the way.

In light of this, our first night in the teardrop was phenomenal. We parked out near a hot spring that was crowded with partiers for the Labor Day weekend. We were exhausted so we avoided the crowd and passed out with the nearly full waning moon illuminating the ghostly shrubbery and mountains around us. Our bed is incredibly comfortable (although Andrew would say it’s a bit on the small side). We stacked two down blankets on top of the futon mattress for padding, and have a down blanket on top, and down pillows. It feels like sleeping on a cloud. It was chilly enough that I closed my window and cuddled up to Andrew and slept like a baby.

Charlie L. Skunkerton, our dashboard companion.

Because I know you all want to see pictures of us… this one is outside Mammoth.

Walking down to Horseshoe Lake, which is severely low due to poor snowfall last winter.

Zephyr enjoying his favorite activity: wait for stick to be thrown, jump in lake, swim, fetch stick, repeat.

Early morning at the hot springs outside Mammoth

“Uh, Honey?”
“Yeah?”
“The pipe upstairs broke. Water gushed through the ceiling into our open laptop.”
“Blurg.”

“Darling?”
“Yes?”
“It’s about 100 degrees in here. If we shut all the windows really quick we can get some AC out of the single vent in the bathroom.” “Ready, Set, Go!”

“Sweetie?”
“What?!?!”
“Goldie the chicken has decided to roost in the garage.”

“Boo?”
“Seriously….!?!?!”
“I love our apartment and I love you!”

It’s hard to say goodbye to this quirky, funky little love nest of ours. I have literally moved once a year since I graduated college. That makes this my 6th move in as many years. Some were just to a different neighborhood, but others were bigger. Moving to San Diego was a big one. Moving out of my shared apartment with my ex was another. Moving to Vista, which is about 50 miles north of San Diego was the biggest one yet. It meant I was engaged (squeee!), but it also meant that I was giving up my wonderful neighborhood with bars, coffee shops, and culture for Taco Bells, 99 Cents stores, and hot weather. I was not excited about this part, but I knew that it meant I got to be with the man of my dreams, so I shut my mouth and moved north.

And you know what? It really turned out to be great. There is a wonderful park within walking distance, an odd (yet delicious) hippie commune-owned deli nearby, and our apartment is endearing. Our landmates who live above us are friendly, fun, and helpful. Together the four of us share chickens, vegetables, tools, and laughs. We joke about the odd construction of our place, how the owner thought to put in crown moulding in our basement apartment but didn’t bother to finish the ceiling in the pantry. The shower is about the size of a phone booth, and we even had to buy a special shower head so Andrew could fit under it. But this was our first apartment together! We will always remember the quirks. We will always remember the beautiful view. The neighbor’s peacock running around on the roof. The feeling of having our own small space together to be a couple, learn more about each other, and nurture our relationship. It is perfect in its imperfection, and I am going to miss it.

I am also going to miss San Diego. We don’t know ultimately where we will land, but I have a feeling we will not be living here in the foreseeable future. We have reasons to come back to visit (weddings in October, travel to Baja for Thanksgiving), but it’s looking like the Pacific Northwest will be our stomping grounds for a while. I admire the beauty and lush greenery of Washington, but those of you who know me well may have noticed that my fingers turn white when it’s cold. And how “cold” for me is 65 degrees. I am a Cali girl through and through, and when I moved to San Diego I told myself I could die happy here.

Fortunately when you go on an adventure part of the thrill is letting go and allowing yourself to revel in the spontaneity of life.  This mindset is one I hope to cling to, regardless of whether we are on the road or starting to settle down. As long as I’m with my love I will be happy at home, wherever it may be.

We all need a little bit of om in our lives. Some of us find this through yoga, meditation, creating art. Others with running, cooking, or spending time with our loved ones. The important things is to find a moment to reflect, be thankful, and give ourselves the attention and affirmations we deserve. Often times we don’t think about our need for om until things get rough.

Unfortunately it has been a difficult week in the little Ide household. We got scary news about my mother-in-law’s cancer: it has wreaked havoc on her femur and she needs hip replacement surgery ASAP or her leg may break out from under her. This is in addition to the radiation she is receiving on her skull, and previous radiation on her spine. After the surgery she will need more radiation. Not to mention the chemo pills she takes to keep the spots in her lungs at bay. Then my 88 year old grandmother was admitted to the hospital with possible pneumonia and congestive heart failure, after being in a serious car accident several months ago.

Last, (and definitely least), I lolled about all week with a high fever and gnarly tonsils. I’m talking swamp monster gnarly. The kind of tonsils you take photos of and send to your friends and family. Thankfully strep is easily treated with penicillin. I’m generally not a fan of doctors and antibiotics (see previous rant about the pharmaceutical industry), but I have never been more grateful for these magic pills than I am now. I even got Andrew to get some when he started complaining of a sore throat. And for those of you who know him well…that is a triumph indeed.

Today I went to yoga for the first time in a long time. I had two goals in mind:
1) There are two things that can cause serious, nagging discomfort in my hips: sitting in the car for a long time, and walking/hiking a lot. The next three months of my life will be comprised of basically these two activities. Add to that sleeping on a futon mattress, and you have a potentially very grumpy Micha. And by extension, a very grumpy Andrew (happy wife, happy life!). I plan on going to yoga five days a week until we leave, in order to create good habits and open up those pesky hips.
2) I was desperately seeking om

Once on the road, it might be hard to find the time and space to keep up my yoga practice. But I think finding om will be a heck of a lot easier. What is more om-ful than sleeping under the stars, watching the sunrise from a mountaintop, or soaking in a lazy river? Today during my class the instructor kept correcting herself. She would start by saying “take a few breaths here” and revise it to “give yourself a few breaths here”. Yes. We don’t take while we seek om. We GIVE. We give to ourselves, our environment, our deities. We give thanks for all that we are given, and we spread the loving, living goodness around. So please give yourself a moment and embrace the om around you.

Namaste, young grasshopper. Namaste.

Today we knocked two things off our pre-travel TO DO list. We sold Andrew’s Subaru Outback (more on that later), and bought our new home: a custom built replica teardrop trailer, modeled after the style first displayed in Popular Mechanics magazine during the late 1940s. It is siiiiiiick. (I picked up that turn of phrase from my skater husband and his little brother. Sometimes, it really is the best adjective for the job. Sorry Dad!)

This little trailer is awesome. It fits behind our truck without obstructing our view at all. It weighs almost nothing, and is about the size of our futon mattress. How convenient! The hatchback flips up, revealing a cute kitchen galley complete with a pump sink and propane powered range. The trailer was built by two artisans, one who specializes in metal work and one in wood, so the carpentry and construction are quite nice. A few minor things will be tweaked to make it ours, but overall it’s ready to roll.

These past few weeks have been a flurry of activity. We have started organizing our stuff into sell, toss, keep piles, and have made a mess of our house and garage. My last day of work was yesterday, so I’m looking forward to spending my time cleaning and organizing, selling more stuff, and working on my sister’s wedding present (a custom painting).

We have sold most of our things on Craigslist, and this is also where we looked for the teardrop trailer. One thing I have learned through all of this: you meet really awesome people via Craigslist shopping. Sure, you get flakes and the occasional weirdo (or a roommate who turns out to be INSANE, but that’s a story for another day), but for the most part I have been really impressed. In fact, it’s a bit sad. I have met some people over these last few weeks that would probably have made great friends if we weren’t about to jet out of here.

We sold one of our refurbished wine barrels to a really cool young couple who just bought a house in Vista. We sold our Subaru to a very sweet French girl who is here for 6 months to study jewelry design. She might even foster my cat! And we bought the trailer from Jamie, the artisan mentioned above who makes furniture for a living (!!!), and also owns a tequila company (!!!!!!!!). His girlfriend is an interior designer (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) The gods are apparently messing with us for leaving San Diego. Since Jaime is so awesome, I will plug his companies here because I think he deserves the shout out. Furniture: http://surfacefurniture.com/. Tequila: http://www.montalvotequila.com. Rad.

Today is the first day of my last week of work (for now). I stumbled into this job when I decided to move to San Diego from Bakersfield (obviously an improvement…sorry Mom!). I put out some emails to Kenyon College alumni, and l received a response from Brian (class of ‘80-something), who at the time was president of a small biotech company. I jumped at the chance to work for him, and off I went to San Diego!

I never imagined myself working in this field. In fact, over the years I have developed what I consider to be a healthy skepticism surrounding the pharmaceutical companies and the FDA. I have given up my artificial hormones and use Dr. Bronner’s soap. I am a bit of a hippie (although I try to hide this by adding a little polish to my nails and stepping into heels once in awhile). So while I am not the most biotech-savvy employee, I have learned an incredible amount about the business world, about sales, and about customer service. All of these skills are going to serve me well throughout my life, whether I wind up a starving artist or an adept saleswoman.

There are some additional life lessons I will be taking home with me on Friday. I know that I will never enjoy working for a large corporation, where the bottom line is valued above all else. I know that I prefer a casual working environment (especially one where flip flops are allowed). I know that I can sell anything effectively, but I prefer to sell things I make with my own two hands. This weekend Andrew and I sold some refurbished wine barrels that we were going to use as planters before we decided to get on the road. I can’t describe the euphoria I feel knowing something we created will be used in someone else’s home and garden. Not to mention the joy of my first profit!

I can’t come up with a good segue for this topic, but it’s in my head so out it comes: Last night Andrew was watching a video on the computer and I overheard this statistic: Americans are exposed to around 3,000 advertisements in a single day. I don’t know if this is entirely accurate, but I can’t imagine it’s far from the truth. I assume I personally view less, since I don’t have a television. Although just browsing the internet alone provides enough advertising to blow my mind. When we watch episodes of Weeds on Netflix (commercial free), we are quick to notice the product placement. Did you know that every scene in a bar or involving beer includes Stone Brewery products?

And while I’m on my hippie soapbox: PARENTS. Please stop giving your kids and/or infants your iphones and portable gameboy thingamajigs. At restaurants. In the airport. In the car. On a walk. At the zoo. I don’t understand this. Granted, I don’t have children of my own, but I can’t imagine it does their brains any good to disconnect from the world around them to focus on some moving pixels. Rather than learning social cues and facial expressions, they learn to push buttons in the correct sequence and develop brand awareness. Sure, it keeps them quiet and sometimes I understand parents desperately need any help they can get. But I am worried about the long-term effects, about cancer, autism, ADD, and about all the medications marketed for these ailments (see, back full-circle to pharmaceuticals!).

This last week of work will prove to be introspective, as I have plenty of free time to think about my life, where I’ve been and where I am headed. I am looking forward to disconnecting a little bit on the road, enjoying the splendour of the natural world, and then sharing it with all of you via the internet. Thus a healthy level of skepticism is perfectly balanced with a healthy dose of hypocrisy. But at least I don’t advertise on my blog (yet…).