From One Sh*t Show to Another

Our living room TV has been on since Monday. Not because anyone was watching it. It was because nobody could find the remote or bother to push the button on the actual TV. And I decided to play the age-old game of chicken to see how long it would take someone else to solve this problem other than me. Once again, I lost. This morning, I lifted up 2 couch cushions, found it, and turned off the TV with a collective sigh of relief from the 4 people who claimed to have been looking for it tirelessly these last few days. And this story pretty much sums up my whole life.

Returning from a week-long trip away from home feels like being hit with a tidal wave of responsibility. Everywhere I look, in every square inch of my house, there is something or someone that needs something. There are piles in every room that were long-forgotten until I stepped away from them for a few days, and now they're heckling me like those two old guys on the Muppets when I walk by. There are paint cracks that need tending to, plants that need watering, humans that need feeding (still. again. always), heaps of unmatched socks, 4 Costco sized jars of Nutella, yet not one single meal's worth of dinner food to be found. 

Every so often I'll go on strike, just to see what happens. Last night, I decided to sit on my front porch, drink some wine and hang out with my neighbors. I didn't announce my plans or my intentions. I just kind of disappeared from the inside scene. Nobody seemed to notice, except Max who banged on the window at one point around 8pm demanding to be fed. And then again when I finally came inside and told everyone to go to bed...at 10:30. Clearly, nobody is winning this game.

To be clear, this is not a rant against Jon. He was doing something else last night too. I'm not sure what it was because he didn't bother to tell me. But then again, I didn't tell him I was going to sit on the front porch all night either. He's also playing the game of chicken. In fact, he has the winning record. Such a natural, that guy.

So my plan is to gather up my strength and unleash my losing record of chicken into a frenzy of fixing and cleaning and purging and scheduling appointments and answering emails until I am at peace. OR I will patiently allow the piles and cracks and unopened bills to fade back into obscurity and await the next post-vacation tidal wave.

[R]e[V]iew of Page, AZ

Our last stop on the RV trip was in and around Page, AZ, about 2 1/2 hours north of the Grand Canyon. The scenery en route is dazzling, passing the north rim of the Grand Canyon and miles of colorful rocks. 

We arrived at the Wahweap Campground, which sits right at the edge of Lake Powell, and got settled in our spot. While the contrast of bright blue water and orangey canyon walls is very pretty to look at, something about this area just felt "off" to me. There are huge empty parking lots, a houseboat repair yard, a marina with a smattering of boats in the water, and very few people around. Maybe those wide-open spaces are filled in the summer, but at this time it felt like the setting for the next season of Ozark or a Dateline missing person story. But there were clean bathrooms and a laundry room, so yay!

There are only a couple of things to see in this area, and they all happen to be embedded into cracks in the earth. I kept thinking about how the original Navajos or western settlers must have felt when they stumbled across these beautiful spots after traveling hundreds of miles across sandy terrain. Even knowing they were there, it felt surprising to see it up close.

We first stopped at Horseshoe Bend, a site that is defined by the shape that the Colorado River has carved around a steep sandstone rock thingy. Droves of tourists walk down a paved path towards the promise of this view, to be met with a small fenced rim and an open pathway to rocks that jut out over the river 1,000 feet below. It is stunning. Truly. I glanced at it for about 10 seconds and then backed up and held my breath as I watched people stand within inches of the unguarded edge to take photos. I couldn't watch but I couldn't look away. I'm surprised that someone doesn't fall off that cliff every hour. In reality, it's more like a few people a year (yes, I Google'd it). We got out of there pretty quickly.

From there, we headed over to Antelope Canyon, the main reason I chose this region to visit. Because it's on Navajo land, the only way you can visit the canyon is with a tour. We met at our designated time and then descended a couple hundred feet down steep metal staircases into the canyon. The way the light shines through the cracks and against the wind-eroded curves of the walls makes for some very incredible photography opportunities. Our guide showed the kid how to use color filters on the iPhone to add definition to the colors and lines and they loved capturing and editing the shots. An hour later, we climbed back out and hit the road.

One last stop at Big John's Texas BBQ, which is worth mentioning because it was so good. 

If I had another day, I would have liked to see the area by boat. There are kayaks, rafting, and motorized boat tours of the lake and rivers which I think we would have loved. But we didn't. The end.

RV Livin’ - The Good, The Bad, and The Poop Tube

The scenery of Arizona makes an impression, but this trip will be mostly remembered for the way we traveled and lived these last 5 days on our 27-foot vehicle/bedroom/kitchen/living room/bathroom/iPad charging station.

Here’s the dirt and the dirty on amateur RV living:

We rented our RV from a lovely couple in Scottsdale through Outdoorsy, which is like AirBnB for RVs. I went with the newest rig I could find because that seemed like the safest bet for comfort, reliability, and not getting stuck with an old, beat-up RV for a week. There are enough unknowns as an RV-newbie without adding in the nasty factor.

We quickly learned that a well-organized rig is key. This one came equipped with a shoe basket, hanging organizers, and every compartment labeled with its contents. The RV is designed to maximize every inch of space while ensuring that everything can be battened down for twisty road travel.

Rules of the Road

We decided that living in a small space required a community agreement that we named “The Rules of the Road”. Nobody followed these rules. 

• No screaming
• No fighting/punching
• No cursing
• No farting
• No twerking
• Keep your stuff together and cleaned up
• Everyone helps
• When we say to get off technology, get off

The Good

1. Everything is a novelty. Like grocery shopping, grilling, throwing a football around, showering, and attaching the rig to electricity. We’re all a little out of our comfort zones and feeling the thrill of small successes, such as running water. There’s a shared sense of purpose that makes my mama heart feel good.
2. There’s space to spread out, nap, and play cards on long trips. Which makes the backseat cage-fighting match of our usual car trips obsolete.
3. There’s a bathroom, running water, and a stocked kitchen on board when you get stuck behind an accident on a 2-lane road for over an hour. 
   And again when your last leg becomes a 6-hour drive due to forest fire detours.
4. Togetherness. For good and for bad. Mostly good.
5. A different perspective - on the scenery, the people, the things we take for granted, the history of the earth, indigenous lands, the amount of water we use to wash dishes, the recklessness of selfie photographers, the clarity that comes from checking out.
   
   

The Bad
Not bad, per se, but these are the things that I’m excited to leave behind:

1. The mattress.
2. The constant awareness of water and sewage tanks.
3. Lack of dining options. I’m ready for someone else to cook me a meal.
4. Driving a giant ve-hicle (that’s for Jon, written in his new truck-drivin’ accent) through high winds and low visibility sand storms.
5. Hour six of the drive back to Scottsdale.

The Poop Tube
If you’re still reading, it’s probably because you’re waiting for all the juicy (ew) details on the…ahem…extraction. The traveling toilet tank is probably the biggest deterrent for RV travel. Our movie minds have been filled with fecal fear.

And rightfully so. This is not a thing you want to get wrong. And I’m happy to report that a) I had nothing to do with this process, and b) Jon (and his assistant, Tyler) made it through the week without any explosive, movie-worthy scenes.

To sum it up, this trip was a shitload of fun!

[R]e[V]iews of Sedona and the GC

We’re halfway through the RV portion of our week on the road, and getting a hang of the rig, the parks and the pace.

The first stop after leaving Scottsdale was Sedona, where we stayed at the Sedona Ranch RV Park. Without much context on RV park quality, it seemed fine but unremarkable. In hindsight I can now appreciate the shaded and private parking spots, the clean nearby bathroom and shower, and the creek that ran through the edge of the property.

It was a short drive into downtown Sedona, a town that has taken its reportedly mystical energy qualities and turned it into a mecca of crystal stores and psychic readings. Kind of cool, kind of cheesy. We weren’t there long enough to really form a full opinion. But one description that is for certain - this place is stunningly beautiful.

We got to dive into the scenery on one of the region’s famous Pink Jeep Tours, which take you off-roading, up and over steep boulders and right to the heart of the red rock panoramas that literally take your breath away. So touristy. So worth it.

From there we wound our way to the Grand Canyon, arriving late in the day to another campground, this time right inside the National Park. 

The Trailer Village RV Park was about as sexy as its name. It’s a giant parking lot with a few trees and an assortment of big and little RVs that looked like they had been there days or years. What the site lacked in ambience, it made up for in location, with the South Rim of the Grand Canyon just a 10 minute walk down a paved path through the woods.

That afternoon we made our way to Mather Point, a popular South Rim lookout point due to its accessibility and paved rim trail serving up the classic panoramic views of the Grand Canyon. The sheer size of the canyon is impossible to wrap your head around. I was last there almost 25 years ago and it felt like I was experiencing the beauty of it all for the first time again. Nature is cool.

I rate this viewpoint as a 3 out of 10 on likelihood of falling off a cliff.

The next day, we picked up bikes and hit the trails out to Yaki Point, an easy, paved route that winds through woods and out to the cliff edges. Scenic, fun, yet totally nerve-wracking to watch my kids cruising around bends that have very little space or barrier between a wrong turn and a long drop.

We could have easily spent many more days exploring the park and the trails recommended by friends. Next time, we’re going down that canyon. Maybe on a mule.

The Journey

You’ve probably heard the expression “it’s about the journey, not the destination”. In the case of RV travel, those words have never been more true. 

Time slows down on the road - not necessarily by choice but because it takes forever to do every little thing. Navigating a parking lot takes extra time in order to find the wide turn openings. Windy roads are driven at a snail’s pace. A 2-hour leg of the trip takes 5 due to an hour of stand-still traffic on a 2-lane road, yet another stop at Walmart for supplies, and then lunch (2 stops because we can’t all agree on one fast food restaurant).

Leaving our campsite means unplugging and unhooking hoses, locking down loose items, and closing up the pop-out wall. And then we have to find parking for our 27-foot vehicle wherever we go.

It’s a process. But that was the point.

There’s no hurry to get anywhere. The Grand Canyon will still be there when we arrive (ideally before dark so we can find our campground). In the meantime, there’s plenty to see and do along the way. The table setup in the RV allows for hours of card games. We celebrate every time we avoid hitting something on a tight turn. Sometimes we read poetry and talk about philosophy (JK, the boys just spent 20 minutes talking about their nuts). And I can tell everyone was as excited as I was when I found the “Roadtrip Sing-a-long” playlist on Spotify, with karaoke-style lyrics!

The journey is happening the whole way. The destination is the icing on the cake.

The destination

Life Sabbatical

A couple of weeks after we finished our trip to Asia in 2019, I wrote my last blog post and set it aside, thinking I really had nothing else to write about in the day-to-day of our fairly typical life as a family of 5 in the suburbs. I regret that decision. Little did I know, a global pandemic would change the entire world just one year later. I wish I had written about that adventure, too, if for no other reason than I would remember more vividly how it felt and what we did. 

When I decided that our RV trip through Arizona would be a good reason to pick up the blog again, I opened up the site and found this draft post that I must have started soon after the pandemic started. I have no memory of writing this:

A little over a year ago, I started this blog to capture the memories and experiences of our 2-month sabbatical to Southeast Asia. From the first words I wrote, it also became my personal journal. Writing provided a release from the hard parts and a mindful confirmation of the great parts. Sharing it was my way to connect with my world at home.

Little did I know that we'd be embarking on another family adventure this year. It wasn't one that we planned, and it certainly isn't one that we hoped for, but here we are. Traveling through th

And then it stopped. Abruptly. The rest of the story just evaporating in the fog that has shrouded my memories of the last two years. And it seemed so perfectly fitting.

Some day I'll try to piece together my recollections of that period. While my experience was hardly as traumatic as it was for many, it was a time unlike any other and I'd like to preserve it somewhere. 

I started this blog because we were doing something special and I like to write. These last couple of years have shown me that, a) I still like to write, and b) all of it is special. So I'll keep writing it down - for me, for my kids, and for anyone who'd like a peek into my unfiltered musings on life.

Early days of homeschooling in March 2020

The Best

My family loves Day 1 of a vacation. Wherever we are and whatever we're doing, everything is "The Best". (This is not to be confused with Day Zero, travel day, which is hell on earth and only endured thanks to whatever chemicals in the brain repeatedly wipe out painful experiences such as childbirth and long days of air travel so that you keep doing it.)

Day 1 is the bliss. The reward of arriving to a new place after a long day. The delight in new mini bottles of shampoo. Crisp sheets and warm air and magnetic key cards and discovering that the TV has Netflix, and "look, there's a Bible in the drawer!". 

The start of this trip was no different. We arrived at our hotel late on Friday to enjoy a one-night stop before picking up our RV the following day to drive around Arizona and see the sites. In my mind, this was also the last time any of us was likely to take a shower for the next 5 days, so I was particularly delighted by the bath products. As usual, it didn't take long before "the best" was being thrown around. 

"This is the best hotel we've ever stayed in" (take that, Hualalai). 

"This is the best breakfast I've ever had" (we do love a breakfast buffet). 

"Look at that view!" (Tyler's first words upon waking up to the rising sun on the red rocks outside). This one especially fills my heart because I've so desperately wanted my kids to appreciate "the view" wherever we go, and they usually don't seem to notice. 

I like to think all of that excitement and positivity isn't so much about the hotel amenities as it is about the feeling - the feeling of anticipation for new adventures, of uninterrupted time together, of taking a break from the things that have been hard. 

For me, "the best" is watching them feel it. It's seeing Max's curiosity about a cactus (and then watching Tyler pick cactus needles out of his hair and clothes when he got too close). It's the pride on Max's face when he carried back 12 pieces of french toast from the breakfast buffet. Or the sound of them all laughing as Dylan destroyed the boys in a game of Uno.

Max vs. the cactus

I probably won't remember most of those little moments, and I certainly won't remember the shampoo brand at that hotel, but I bet we'll all look back and remember these days as some of "The Best".