live. work. dream.

Jim likes to tell people “Stop shoulding all over yourself!” Shouldding is unproductive and creates misery. Shouldding keeps you from doing what you really want to do.

It’s not easy to eliminate it from your vocabulary. We’re conditioned to take on obligations that “should” lead to happiness (I should go to school. . . should make lots of money. . . should start a family. . . should buy a house). Meanwhile, all this shouldding all over ourselves creates huge demands on our time, and brings our youthful dreams to a screeching halt. Then one day we wake up and realize we are trapped in the “Someday Syndrome.”

We can all use some help finding our way back to our dreams, and Alex Fayle’s new book, “Someday I’ll Get Around To It” is the perfect place to start.

Alex is a “Someday-busting Coach.” He helps people dust off their dreams, sort them out, and create a plan for obtaining the life they really want. His new e-book, “Someday I’ll Get Around To It” shares his strategies for someday-busting.

In this 100-page workbook style format, we learn how to make conscious choices to create happier lives that more closely reflect our dreams. Alex walks us through ways to overcome inertia and understand our limitations and obstacles. We learn how letting go of control will free up time and enable us to achieve our goals. And finally, his useful worksheets in the back of the book will help us draft simple, doable plans to help achieve our dreams in step-by-step increments.

Life is short. Live your dreams. And remember, you can’t justify putting your dreams on hold, by listing all of your obligations.

Because like Alex says, “In not pursuing your dreams, recognize that you are choosing not to pursue your dreams.”

If you are at all doubtful that Alex can help, just read about his life here. You can also read his interview with Jim and I.

Don’t wait for Someday.

Sell your crap. Pay off your debt. Do what you love.

We hit the road yesterday for the first time since early December. And as with all first days on the road, things didn’t go quite as smoothly as we would have liked. We are definitely rusty.

First, we missed our exit to the Slabs, and almost ended up in Quartzsite. Drove about 25 miles out of our way.

Next, when we were in search of water, we took a wrong turn and drove another 10 miles in the opposite direction. The small road we were on was so flooded from the recent rains, we couldn’t find a dry enough place to turn around.

Once we got to the Slabs, I opened up our door, and saw hummus everywhere. Good thing the flour didn’t spill too!

As I proceeded to clean up the mess, Jim tried to turn on the Motosat dish. Guess what? That pain in the ass dish is acting up again, and won’t go up. Thank Dog we have Internet redundancy with our MiFi setup. If we couldn’t get online to manage Tripawds, we would be on our way to the nearest service shop. Apparently our F2 motor is dead . . . again.

All this, during our first day back on the road. In the past, I might have fallen apart at so many mishaps in one day. Because when you’re new on the road, multiple screw ups in one day happen a lot, and they can be upsetting. At least to me they were. Jim’s always been a little better about not letting them get him down.

But after almost three years on the road, I’m happy to say that we are both able to handle these things with a smile.

A few cocktails also work wonders.  Good thing we’re stocked up.

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!

A few people have been surprised to learn that we came to Nevada because I took a job for The Great Satan*. Yes, a J.O.B. It’s true; I’m working for the man again. I’m another cog in the machine. Punching a clock, drooling over that carrot they dangle over our heads called a “paycheck.”

A few months ago thanks to our friends at NuRVers, I learned about the seasonal job opportunities available at Great Satan locations around the country. Everywhere from Delaware to Las Vegas, thousands of little elves spring up out of nowhere and take over the company’s million-square foot warehouses to fulfill all of those holiday season orders for consumers.

The hours are grueling and so is the work. But the money is great and I’m really thankful to have this opportunity during such an awful economy.

Originally we were going to Kansas,where most fulltime RVing workampers go. But a few weeks ago, thanks to Jenn at HiTek Homeless, I learned about the Satan gig in Fernley, Nevada, just outside of Reno and south of the road to Burning Man. So we pointed West instead of East, and will be here until Christmas.

I’ll be punching a clock, while Jim stays home to run our Internet endeavors and babysit Wyatt the Wild Dawg. Tomorrow is my employee orientation, and then I start working ten-hour days next week.

Meanwhile, as all of you consider your holiday purchases this year, remember all of the bargains that Satan has to offer! And when you shop, please help us out by starting here with our link, so we can get an additional cut on the action!

*Recently I was told that I signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement which stated I cannot disclose anything about the Great Satan’s company or work conditions. Therefore, the real name of this company has been changed in all blog posts.

Epic road trips are the stuff that great drinking stories are made of. But few of us have the skill to turn those tall tales into a full-length novel, and keep people laughing till they snort so hard their beer spews out their nose.

David Jerome is the exception, in his road trip adventure tale, Roastbeef’s Promise: When Your Dad’s Dying Wish Is to Have His Ashes Sprinkled in Each State, What’s a Son to Do?

A stand-up comedian and former comedy writer for Jay Leno and other Hollywood comedians, Jerome shares the mishaps and adventures that happened to him on his travels across America in the mid ’90s. Slightly autobiographical and mostly so strange that you can’t possibly believe this stuff actually happened to him, Jerome tells the tale of Roastbeef, a shiftless, broke college student with an older father who’s ridden with Alzheimers. But Roastbeef’s dad isn’t just any old patient suffering from dementia. No, this guy truly believes he’s Franklin D. Roosevelt.

Shouting presidential orders from his hospital bed, Roastbeef’s dear old Dad demands that upon his death, Roastbeef must spread his ashes in “all 48 states” (remember, there were only 48 states in FDR’s time). Always the dutiful son, Roastbeef humors his Dad and halfheartedly agrees to it. But when Dad finally dies, Roastbeef rises to the occasion and takes up the cause of keeping this unusual deathbed promise.

He sets out in his crappy college-student car to literally dust every state with his Dad’s cremains. But hitting the road without much money presents challenges, and Roastbeef doggedly pursues his mission on everything from a moped to freight trains, while working odd jobs across America to help him fulfill it.

From the time Roastbeef unknowingly befriends a pot dealer and gets thrown in the slammer, to hitching rides with pregnant brides and psychopaths, to being coerced into visiting a Tiajuanna whorehouse with his Dad’s old military buddy, Jerome’s dry humor never runs out of gas.

In the back of the book, Jerome promises that if any reader takes a photo of him or herself holding “Roastbeef’s Promise” in any of the specific locations mentioned in this story, they’ll get a free Roastbeef’s Promise t-shirt for their efforts. So because I’m tightwad looking for a freebie, here I am at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, where Jerome spent a couple of weeks couch surfing with frat boys.

I really loved Roastbeef’s Promise, and not just for the free t-shirt offer either. Get your copy today, or, before October 30th, send me an email along with your funniest road trip story (which we get to publish on our blog). In return, you can have my almost new copy (hey I have limited space in my rig, I’m happy to give it away). If we have more than one person who enters, we’ll draw a random name.

For information about Jerome, check out Facebook/roastbeefspromise.com

Over two years ago, when our last box got taped shut and we bid farewell to our remaining stuff, I wasn’t sure if I could live with the few essentials that we had packed in the rig. I assumed we would end up buying duplicates of things we had put in storage.

But in all this time, we only needed to acquire a few household things that we had put in storage. They were:

• Two kitchen serving spoons
• Some dish towels
• Drink pitcher
• Toaster
• Cookie tray
• Rechargeable batteries
• One Pillow

Keep in mind that this is just household stuff. The clothes we’ve acquired along the way are a whole different matter . . .

I’m kinda proud of what we’ve lived on for the last two years. One rule we’ve lived by for the fulltiming RV lifestyle is, when it comes to kitchen stuff, whatever utensils we have in the rig must serve at least two purposes. A single use tool has no place in the RV galley. In our new home base, I think I’ll stick to that rule.

The best advice we got for packing? Carol White’s Live Your Road Trip Dream book. Don’t hit the road without it.

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.

The search is over, all votes are in. After two years and about 40 states, we’ve determined that Colorado is our favorite spot, and Fort Collins is our ideal town.

But many other people also know this, and real estate prices here remain high, even in a supposedly down market.

The search for our dream property has been frustrating and emotionally charged. After two months of hard searching here, we finally accepted the hard truth;

we have enough money to buy a few acres of land, but not enough to build the kind of house we want.

Living in our RV is fine, but the whole point of buying land was to put something on it that could hold our remaining stuff (presently in storage in California), while we continue roaming the country as digital nomads. We thought about just building a garage, but after doing so, it wouldn’t leave us with enough funds to build a future house too.

And so, we widened our search criteria to go beyond raw land, and include fixer upper houses and cabins. That’s when we walked into the sad new world of bargain basement foreclosed homes. Our realtors have tons of experience with repo properties, making the process less daunting.

Last week, we made an offer on a sprawling ranch house set on nearly one acre of horse property, about 10 minutes from town. The offer was accepted.

We instantly liked this place because:

• The area is rural and quiet, but still close enough to the fun stuff in town.
• It needs a ton of work, but extensive house rehabs are nothing new to us.
• The property is big enough to park multiple RVs on (hear that, NuRVers?)
• At the peak of the market, it sold for twice as much as we’re buying it for now.
• And the biggest reason we took the plunge: it’s a bargain, and we can stay debt free, even after repairs.

Surprised? So are we. It’s not quite what we had in mind when we first hit the road in search of Jerry’s Land. We originally had visions of off-grid living in some remote, rugged location like Lake City. But the last few months have been a good reality check. We’ve learned that:

If we want a seriously rural lifestyle, we’ll need a lot more money to do it comfortably, not Ted Kaczynski style.

We don’t feel like this is a compromise. We’re getting into this property because it’s practical; it fits much of our criteria, and everything indicates we can double our money after repairs.

We like the home enough to live on indefinitely, but it’s still one more step we’re taking to reach our ultimate goal. Like Jerry would say, never give up!

The house won’t be livable for some time (notice the leaning chimney?). It’s stripped clean inside (Jim is standing in the kitchen area in this photo), and needs extensive repairs from new plumbing to a roof. While it looks scary, we’re not running away. At 1,895 square feet, the house isn’t exactly small, but not nearly as daunting as our previous fixer, a 3,770 sq. ft., 106-year-old Victorian.

In the meantime, we’ll spend the rest of summer here, go back to Texas in winter, and return in spring. We’ll live like hillbillies in our RV out in the horse pasture, and one by one we’ll knock projects off our punch list without a contractor. In-between, we might even start a small garden and grow some kind of specialty item to sell at local farmer’s markets. We’ll need the funds.

Escrow closes sometime around the end of July. Stay tuned. More adventures are sure to follow.