Our rig has been parked on the streets of L.A. for the last few weeks, while we catch up on the chisme with family and friends. Life here is as hectic and noisy as it gets, and every day Jim and I are reminded of why we chose to leave urban living behind.

We started 2009 with one goal; find Jerry’s Acres. Seven months into it, we did. Our Colorado retreat now sits underneath several feet of snow, waiting for our return.

With that behind us, we’re getting the other big part of our life in order, namely, making a real income again.

Our defnition of “real income” is different from most people’s. While we would love to be able to spend money on the finer things in life (like picking up a $20 bottle of wine instead of our old standard, Two Buck Chuck), we also aren’t willing to surrender our freedom in order to do so. My very short gig at Satan’s Castle was a good reminder about that.

People wonder, what do we do. How do we make any money? Well, we don’t do any one particular thing anymore. We don’t want to have one business again. And we don’t want to rely on one job to bring in money. We believe that putting all of your eggs in one basket is risky business, much moreso than varying your skills and finding multiple ways to generate income.

For us now, tiny bits of money trickle in from various web-based outlets that utilize our technical, design and writing skills. In 2010, we’ll work on building up our income revenue streams in these areas.

The money is iffy, the hours are long and uncertainty always looms over our heads, but we are much happier than we ever were in our previous lives. While we are still officially in the red and dipping into savings, I know that 2010 will be the year we are back in black, finally. It would be great if we could actually contribute to our retirement accounts once more. When that happens, I’ll know that we’ve truly been successful these last two and a half years.

On that note, I’ll say “Adios!” to 2009, and give 2010 a great big welcome. May this year bring the prosperity, joy and peace that we all need more of in our lives.

And many thanks to all of you for being a part of our world. Life would be pretty boring without you!

It wasn’t the work that did me in. It was the fact that I cannot be part of an organization that does not value the Individual.

From high school to my first office job at an insurance company, large impersonal institutions and I just never got along. Had I remembered this before I decided to work at Satan’s Castle, I could have spared myself some grief (and been in a warmer climate by now).

Last week we were supposed to start 12 hour shifts, but instead, almost every day, we got sent home after just a few hours of work. “The volume isn’t there,” said the outbound shipping department manager. Soon it became clear that the long hours and overtime Satan used as bait wasn’t going to materialize. His cheerleaders have been hitting the airwaves on NPR and CNBC, yet things have been very, very slow for us here at the Nevada warehouse.

With each shift cut short, I wondered if I was going to be able to cover the cost of December’s rent at the RV park. My patience was wearing thin.

Even more frustrating was that I just learned via Workamper that the lower-paid cogs in Kansas are getting more hours than we are. My theory is that Satan is cutting costs by shifting the bulk of the work to locations that pay less.

The Final Ingredients

Sunday morning, one of Satan’s minions walked up to me with a clipboard in hand. She was one of the nicer ones, who actually tried to remember workers’ names. The first thing she said when she saw me was “Rene, you’re going to hate me.”

She put her clipboard on my workstation, and showed me a warning notice that said I wasn’t “making the numbers,” one week into another outbound shipping job I was put on. The warning was based on the volume I processed, just two days into the new job.

I was stunned, because the Agency’s rules state that we have four weeks to get numbers up to that level. Yeah, I knew I was slow during my first few days, but for the last three days, I had consistently “made the numbers.” I couldn’t understand why I was getting a warning based on week-old volume.

The notice stated it was a “Final Warning,” but this was technically my second, because I had been kicked out of my first job for not being a “team player.” Every employee is supposed to receive three warnings before getting fired.

As a final insult, my name was misspelled on the warning.

Satan’s Minion was asking for my signature to acknowledge the warning. But I didn’t, and instead I said to her “They’re full of crap. This is only my second warning, and I was told I have four weeks to get to that production level. Why aren’t they following their own rules?”

The Minion got a distressed look on her face, and then out of nowhere, she started crying.

“I’m so sorry Rene! I hate this job! This is all I do all day long, and I only get fifty cents an hour more than you do! Yesterday I had to fire a 70 year old lady with Parkinson’s because she couldn’t make the numbers. They’re having me fire people after just a few days into training. This place is horrible! I just put in my two week notice because I can’t take it anymore!”

She stood there crying, while I looked on, stunned. She was very pregnant, and said she really needed the money, but she just couldn’t work for a place that treated people like crap.

I felt badly for her, but I was going to stand my ground.

I refused to sign it. I told her “I’m sorry, but I want them to tell me why this is a ‘Final Warning,’ and why I’m being expected to meet Week Four quotas. They’re ignoring their own rules. I won’t sign it, I can’t.”

She agreed it was wrong, and she said she would look into it, but couldn’t promise anything. Then she left, and five minutes later, another minion came by to announce that we all had to go home, two hours into our shift. There wasn’t enough work. “Come back tomorrow,” she yelled to us.

What’s It Worth?

As I clocked out and walked through the metal detector exit, my head was spinning. Could I stand working there for just four more weeks? Could I live with the uncertainty of the hours I was getting, or of being fired any minute without just cause? What if all this agony doesn’t even cover the $400 in rent I had just paid for December?

On my way home, I remembered that the RV park owner had said that if things didn’t work out during the first four days of the month, she would refund the rent and charge me a daily rate. That’s when I knew what I had to do.

I pulled into the park and stopped at the office. I asked the manager if I could take her up on that offer. Thankfully, she did.

I went to the rig, and told Jim what happened.

I won’t work for a company that relies on fear tactics and bullying. Maybe some people can tolerate that kind of environment, but I won’t. I have my self-respect, and cash-crunch or not, know I am worthy of better treatment. Life is too short.

Then I picked up the phone, and made my stand. I called Satan’s Agency to tell them I quit.

Jim is thrilled, and now I feel like a huge anvil has been lifted off my head.

Looking back, I realize that I took this job because I was letting fear rule my life. Almost three years into our sabbatical, our dwindling savings account is telling me that we have to get serious about making money. But instead of buckling down and earnestly working to make our new business venture happen, I opted for what I thought was the quick and easy way out; the false sense of security one gets with a paycheck. What a sham.

Instead of following our dream, I took the paved road to hell, and paid dearly for it.

I’m proud of my little warehouse worker. Just yesterday she vowed not to let it get to her, that she would just do her job the best she could and punch her clock like a good worker bee would.

This morning she apparently stood her ground and told them something completely different, and was then sent home early yet again. We got to walk Wyatt together, and now she’s taking a much deserved nap. It’s good to have Margie home again, but I’ll let her tell the rest of the story.

It sure would be nice to know what happened to all those lucrative overtime hours we heard about though. But then again, I also heard that consumer sales for this Black Friday weekend were up a whopping 0.5% from last year too.

Bonus! Two video posts in a row… At least this one is ours.

But since René mentioned the weather here at Jerry’s Acres and our impending need to head south for the winter – not just once, but twice – I figured I would let everyone see for themselves how beautiful it is here, how much fun we’re having, and just how cold it really is getting…

Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of living in a Georgia O’Keefe painting as much as any good ol’ country boy. And it is nice and comfy in our new home. But did I mention it is only October!

We do love it here, but the road beckons. It would mean one thing if we were settling down here for good. That time will come. But we’ve got our winter home sitting out front, with a lot of miles yet to put under its new tires. And that means we need to get those tires rolling before they are totally covered in snow.

I do love our mobile lifestyle, but it feels great to have a home base. Especially one with lots of room for our stuff, incredible views, and most importantly … unlimited running water and electricity!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for renewable energy and living off grid. But in the search for our perfect piece of paradise, we realized it just didn’t make sense to invest in a suitable solar array somewhere if we weren’t going to live there year-round. We did however consider a a few awesome off-grid properties …

The best of which was this fully self sufficient compound in the Sand Creek area of Northern Colorado. Which is a good thing, considering it is hours from anywhere and inaccessible year-round without a snowmobile.

The funny thing is, we first noticed this property for sale early in our trip during our first pass through Colorado. Returning to the area, we just had to check it out and see why it was still on the market. The realtor explained that everyone thinks it’s too remote. On the two-hour drive back to Fort Collins, via Wyoming, we agreed.

Since we were already way out there in Sand Creek, we decided to check out other properties.

These included a smelly mobile home with an old generator, and ranged from a remote cabin with no trees, no seclusion and no power, to this sprawling geodesic ranch home. It does have a robust power system, and it also has a huge barn, with a SnowCat inside.

Seeing the SnowCat was when we first started thinking twice about Sand Creek.

The craziest decision we almost made, however, was thinking twice about this incredible piece of property in Badger Creek, CO, just east of Salida.

The terrain was amazing, as was the amount of work needed. Our RV solar system is more powerful than the one cobbled together at this place sometime in the 70s.

We considered vacant land too, where we could boondock for a couple months a year. But when we did the math, we realized we would probably end up with only a well and garage, all for the same price as our new comfy digs.

Another funny thing … a vacant piece of land we really loved is just up the hill from where I’m sitting, in my Dad’s recliner . . .  listening to my stereo, with the lights on . . . without a single worry about my solar system batteries.

It was always apparent that we didn’t get rid of enough stuff when we left Eureka in June 2007. Our $250 a month storage bill said it all.

When we hit the road, we hired a moving company to store our stuff, thinking that someday we would be willing to pay to ship it to us, wherever we landed. But until the moving company actually put it all in their warehouse, we had no idea how much our storage bill would be. By the time we learned what the damage was, it was too late.

The Horrors of Excess

While in storage, our stuff took up five crates at 4′ x 7′ x 7, for a grand total of 980 cubic feet. Once we closed escrow on our house and saw what our finances looked like, that there was no way we were going to shell out the $5k the moving company wanted to deliver our stuff, so we opted to go get it ourselves.

The only problem was that I never actually saw how much space our junk took up, until we landed in Eureka for just one stealth night in August. When we arrived at the moving company’s warehouse with our 26′ moving truck, our jaws dropped.

A massive amount of boxes were stacked  and waiting. At first, the two movers we hired to help load weren’t even sure if it would all fit. As they started loading, I began making piles of stuff that we would ditch if it didn’t.

I wanted to cry. All this time I thought that we had really downsized. Who was I kidding?! The excessive boxes of clothes, kitchen stuff, and knicknacks, was unreal. I kicked myself up and down the parking lot, cursing at our naivety in thinking we had gotten rid of all but our essentials.

Eventually, the movers made it all fit. We left Eureka in less than 24 hours, and lugged it back to Colorado.

Note to Self: Lesson Learned

Two years ago, I thought we were keeping only the essentials. But I’m not the same person I was then. The road has taught me that I don’t need much to have an enjoyable life. I don’t need eight pairs of jeans, or three different sets of dinner plates to feel complete.

Sure, it’s nice to have some of my favorite things back under our roof, like my card making stuff and my bread machine. But when it comes down to it, I’ll take the incredible journeys we’ve had over all of our material possessions any day.

A few weeks ago we jumped the gun. In our excitement to actually commit to something tangible again, we told you about a fixer-upper house we were in escrow on.

I’d like to apologize for our premature announcement. We didn’t get the house.

Instead, we pulled out of that nightmare-waiting-to-happen, but only until our offer for a better property was accepted.

We haven’t wanted to say anything, fearing that we might jinx the deal. But now it’s safe to spill it, since we are closing escrow Monday at 11 am.

What Really Happened

We are now the proud owners of a 3 bedroom 2 bath mountain home, on 4.98 acres in Red Feather Lakes, about 50 miles northwest of Fort Collins.

A few weeks ago we learned that our fixer-upper had a very questionable foundation lying underneath it. Cosmetic repairs are one thing, but buying a house with bad foundation can be a horrible mistake. The heartbreaking news brought back bad memories of our previous money pit, of which we had to put a $23,000 foundation underneath. I cried as we debated whether or not to move forward on the deal.

That’s when we received a beautiful statue of St. Francis, from our friend Heather.

St. Francis was sent in honor of the 9 month anniversary of our Jerry’s departure, which happened on the Feast of St. Francis. Heather sent this to us on Jerry’s behalf, with an encouraging message essentially telling us to hang on to our dream. She had no we were already in escrow for the fixer-upper. “It’s out there,” she said, don’t give up.

Days later, as we were just about to give up on our search here, we saw the listing for something that sounded too good to be true.

Why We Bought It

Priced way below market value, the sellers are divorcing and just wanted to dump their weekend getaway. As soon as we saw it, we knew this was the spot we’ve been looking for.

It fits our criteria perfectly. It’s a simple, affordable property that won’t get us into debt. It sits on manageable mountain acreage near a town we love. And it’s almost within 2 hours of a major airport (Denver). The house is 9 years old and has hardly been used. It’s in perfect working order; it even has running water and heat! Other than the ugly kitchen cabinet doors, we love it.

The house lies in a beautiful mountain subdivision with exorbitant HOA fees, but they get us year-round road maintenance, and all the fishing Jim wants on about a dozen private lakes and river frontage. We could live here all year if we wanted to.

At 8400′ above sea level, Red Feather Lakes is a cool summer escape and a winter wonderland for Fort Collins residents. There’s a small community nearby with a couple of restaurants, a bar, a convenience store, gas station, and a post office. Many people live here year round, as Fort Collins is an easy drive to make. What more do we need?

It’s as close to perfect as we can get, but there’s just one problem:  Unlike the last place, which had a big flat space for RVs, this house sits on top of a gradual slope. and the driveway isn’t big enough for more than two RVs, at least until we do some grading. But, the good news is that the subdivision runs a nearby private campground with full hookups ($20 a night) for property owners’ guests.

So, with many thanks to Jerry and his pal St. Francis, and everyone who encouraged us to hang in there, we can safely say that we have found our dream property at 21 Hopewell Court, Red Feather Lakes Colorado.

I know my thoughts about the homeownership myth seem contradictory to what Jim and I are doing right now (buying a house), but hear me out. . .

For too long, Americans have been shammed into believing in the homeownership myth. We have been fooled by our banks, our lenders and even my financial guru, Suze Orman, into believing that buying a home is the greatest investment we’ll ever make.

It’s a lie. Over the years there have been studies that show that if you take the amount you spend on a home and put that same amount into the stock market, even in horrible markets like we have now now, the stocks will always yield a greater investment over the long term than the house will. So, why have we always been so convinced by financial “experts” that overextending ourselves to buy a show home is such a great investment?

Now that people are waking up to the fact that buying a house isn’t going to get us on the Forbes Who’s Who List, could we be entering a new era when people finally understand the true cost of home ownership?

I just finished reading John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley, his classic road trip journey into the heart of 1950s America. In one section of the book, I was pleasantly surprised to find Steinbeck’s musings about the exciting new era of trailers and mobile homes in the 1950s. He was captivated at the thought of a home on wheels, and interviewed trailer park dwellers to ask them about their choices to live in a trailer instead of a stick house. One of them explains:

“Who knows that is in store tomorrow? . . . If a plant or factory closes down, you’re not trapped with property you can’t sell. Suppose the husband has a job and is buying a house and there’s a layoff. The value goes out of his house. But if he has a mobile home he rents a trucking service and moves on and he hasn’t lost anything. He may never have to do it, but the fact that he can is a comfort to him.”

Steinbeck goes on to say that even if the homes are financed through a lender,

“the payments, even if high and festoned with interest, are no worse than renting an apartment and fighting the owner for heat. And where could you rent such a comfortable ground-floor apartment with a place for your car outside the door? Where else could the kids have a dog?”

And so, I ask you, dear reader, when was it that trailer parks started getting such a bad rap?

Steinbeck asks a father living in a trailer court: “One of our most treasured feelings concerns roots, growing up rooted in some soil or some community.” How did they feel about raising their children without roots? The man answers him with:

“How many people today have what you are talking about? What roots are there in an apartment twelve floors up? What roots are in a housing development of hundreds and thousands of small dwellings almost exactly alike?”

Steinbeck wonders, “Don’t you miss some kind of permanence?”

The father answers::

“Who’s got permanence? Factory closes down, you move on. Good times and things opening up, you move on where it’s better. You got roots and you sit and starve. You take the pioneers in this history books. They were moovers. Take up land, sell it, move on. . . “

He adds: ” . . . suppose the place I work goes broke. I’ve got to move where there’s a job. I get to my job in three minutes. You want I should drive twenty miles because I’ve got roots?”

Even back in the 1950s, being able to go where the money is just made so much sense. I’d like to know when this ideaology fell by the wayside, and we started believing that being a chained to a mortgage and a big house was the smart thing to do. Everyone wants a nice place to live, but what’s the real cost of that lifestyle?

So, why are Jim and I buying property? Because there’s got to be a happy medium, dontcha think? For starters, it’s nice to have a break from campground fees. And we also need a place for our stuff! We think we can reconcile our need to roam with property ownership, because we’re only buying what we can afford, and won’t be indebted to a bank. Without that threat hanging over our heads, we’ll still have the freedom to live on relatively little income, move with the seasons like snowbirds, and go where the work is, if and when we need to.

At least, that’s the plan.

Visiting the Escapees park in Livingston when we joined the club was a worthwhile 250 mile detour from the Hill Country. Escapees has built a number of parks that anyone can stay at, in various points throughout the nation. Members get a generous discount on stays, activities and more.

The Livingston park feels less like a fulltimer retirement community and more like a college campus. Sure, most of the people are over 65, but they defy their ages. There are clubhouses and activity halls, and the calendar was so packed with activities every day, I couldn’t keep up.

One day I went over to join a yoga class, snickering to myself that it was probably going to be chair-yoga or something like that, but nope, it turned out to be a pretty good workout that even left me a little sore the next day!

One of the highlights of our visit was attending their daily social hour. OK, so there were no cocktails (oops, we showed up with some!) and sure, the meeting started out with obituary announcements, but still, after that sad business was over with, we got to hear the founders of Escapees, Joe and Kay Peterson, give the weekly talk. Joe and Kay have been RVing since 1970, when they sold their stuff and hit the road in their early 40s!

Joe and Kay are a kick! I hope Jim and I are as active and happy as they are when we hit old-timer status. They’ve lived an amazing life, truly something to aspire to. And the group they created is truly a testament to how people with a common identity and purpose can create a tight-knit community that’s as close to utopia as possible. I wish more towns across America were like this.

During the first “official” NüRVers get-together at the Lazy L & L, we had the chance to interview a handful of young fulltime RVers and share how they make a living on the road.

We ended up only making one movie.

Basically, because we were headed back to Landa where most of the Nü Crew was saying for a while. Or, it might have been the Mai Tais.

We’ll try to catch some of them with videos to come, but I digress.

Meet Emmy (aka; emmymau):

Emmy and the lexmachine travel fulltime while writing and photographing, respectively. And while enjoying the cross country club scene, together .

No, that sweet ride is not their toad. It’s a test car he will write about for his automotive review column at their elepent blog. Then he has to give it back.

Bummer, but I’m sure he’ll have some another classy chassis lined up to test drive, somewhere down the road. Sweet ride. Sweet gig. Sweet people.

So, what’s an elepent? If you ask me it’s great name with a cute history. Stay tuned for more insight on how others live life on the road. How do you do it?