Madonna of the Trail, Revisted

Today we revisit the Madonna of the Trail. Not literally, of course, because it's raining like mad here, and I didn't even venture out to get the mail today, let alone drive to Upland.

But see, just this afternoon I was thinking that I should update the blog. I don't have much to report, though. Steve and I are trying to figure out what to do with our life, but we've agreed not to think about that until after Christmas. And I could mention that we entered our neighborhood in our Homeowners Association's holiday lighting contest and won for Most Energy Efficient. Neither of those makes for a great reading, though.

Then, when I sat down at the computer a few minutes ago, I found that I had an email from the great-grandson of August Leimbach, the artist who sculpted the Madonna of the Trails statues. He shared with me his website, which is an homage to his great-grandfather's life and work.

It turns out that August Leimbach had mainly done ornate architectural work and, because of that, hadn't been considered as an artist for the Madonna statues. But in just three days he had put together a model and the rest, as they say, is history.

Check it out if you're so inclined.

And because I probably won't update beforehand, I wish everyone a very Happy Solstice, Christmas, Kwaanza, Festivus, and Belated Hanukkah!

Merry Christmas to Me!

I got my license on Friday! Woo hoo! I'm really glad because my California photo is really good and my Texas photo makes me look like a meth addict.

Poor Steve hasn't gotten his yet. So he still can't take his written test to get his permit so he can get his license so we can pull Homer. But what else is new?

Ho Ho Ho and DMV

As promised, here is our very special Christmas decoration for this year. If we can't go camping, at least Santa can. (Sorry for the horrible photo and glaring sun.) See the cup in the chair? In-N-Out.

In other, somewhat related news (like, related to why we can't go camping), we still don't have our licenses. I called DMV yesterday and the automated system said it can take up to six weeks to process a license.

I figured the person who told us 2-3 weeks was full of it until I opened the paper today and saw the headline, "Drivers aren't getting licenses." Apparently due to a new license design, a new computer system, and general inefficiency, it has been taking longer and longer to process licenses--possibly as long as three months. At least we're not the only ones.

DMV recommends going to get a temporary license if your other one expires before the permanent one arrives. Awesome idea. There's no way I (or anyone else) should have to PAY for another one, though. Nor should people have to take time out of their lives to go to a DMV office to correct the state's problem. But whatever.

Our temps expire on January 1, so it looks like we're unlikely to have licenses before then. I still have my Texas license, so maybe I won't worry about getting another temporary. Steve's out of luck, though.

And, as usual, we'll probably stupidly go do the right thing, which WILL mean taking time out of our lives to get another temporary, and we'll probably have to pay for it, too.

Merry Christmas, DMV.

Retro Holiday Craft

A woman on my car seat message board was looking for some ideas for retro ornaments she and her kids could make. I got all giddy about it, and she shared a link she found.

They looked so cute and easy that the kids and I threw some together after breakfast this morning. All you need is card stock, a ruler, scissors, and a stapler. Oh, and fishing line or something else to hang them with, which I don't have at the moment.

These will look AWESOME in an Airstream, if we ever get one...

A Not-Much-of-an-Update

Remember how I said I was going to update more often than every two weeks? Sorry about that.

There's not much new to report.

Back on November 3, when we went through the new/old license issue at the DMV, we were told that we would receive our licenses in the mail in two-to-three weeks. It has now been exactly 30 days, which, for anyone not great at math, is more than two-to-three weeks.

I have considered calling to check on the status, but I would rather pour tomato juice over fresh paper cuts than call the DMV. Plus they probably wouldn't have an answer for me anyway, plus I worry that the operator I talk to will somehow sabotage the whole thing just because s/he can.

So we continue to wait. Our temporary licenses do expire sometime in January, though, so hopefully this doesn't go on too much longer.

Of course, without his real license in hand, Steve can't take the Non-Commercial Class A written test (again), at least according to the people from the Santa Ana office who might or might not be correct about that.

So Homer still sits languishing on his own. Lonely. Cold.

Meanwhile, we're still figuring out what the hell to do with our lives.

Thanksgiving went very well thanks in large part to the Pyrex casserole dish set I found at Costco for $30 and the double set of pie plates I found at Target for $10.

Oh, and CarSeatBlog.com published another one of my posts today. This one is about the CPSC's new database and whether it will solve problems or create more.

In other news, our holiday lights are up! That includes the super-special decoration we bought for this year! I got a photo of it the other day, but the light was awful, so I'll try to get another one tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Flying with Car Seats

This has nothing to do with RVing, but a lot to do with traveling with kids.

If you're flying with your kids (for the holidays, perhaps?) and plan on taking a car seat onboard, you must read this post over at CarseatBlog. It talks about your rights as a passenger and tells you how to produce the information you need when the flight attendant tries to make you turn your 3-month-old forward facing or tells you you're not allowed to use a seat at all.

And why am I posting this here? Well, first, because it's important information to know.

Second, because I wrote it!

A couple months ago the folks over at CarseatBlog asked if I'd be interested in writing for them. I was honored to receive the invitation, since the people who write for that blog are among the most knowledgeable car seat people you'll ever find.

So while I was in the process of neglecting this blog, I was moonlighting for that one.

Look for posts of mine there every two weeks or so. And look for updates of this blog hopefully more often than that.

Re-Cluttering

Sorry I haven't updated for about two weeks now--time flies!

After making so much progress in decluttering our house, we're now in a position where we need to replace stuff we had gotten rid of.

As I mentioned before, I am hosting Thanksgiving again this year, but I got rid of my pie plates, rolling pins, and most of my casserole dishes. Since we're here for a while, I figured I should buy reusable ones rather than relying on disposables. My mom is bringing out a pie plate and rolling pin, and I found a great deal on a set of Pyrex at Costco the other day.

Steve is in a bit of a panic over Christmas decorations. He's really into Christmas lights. Remember how I said I'm obsessive about Thanksgiving? That's how he is with decorating for Christmas. He's won awards for it and stuff. It's a big deal.

We did save some decorations, but we got rid of a lot. He has been bringing decorations over from the storage unit and he did discover that we had saved most of the lights. He was a bit hesitant to admit this to me since he was supposed to have sold them/given them away, but at least it's one less thing to worry about.

Earlier in this process I had been planning on getting the kids very small, lightweight gifts for Christmas. The other day I realized that I don't need to worry about that anymore, but we have gotten so deeply entrenched in this "less is more" mindset that I don't want to get big stuff, or a lot of stuff. The thought of it actually makes me kind of sick.

I'm hoping we can resist re-cluttering our lives too much during this limbo.

I will admit, though, that Steve did buy one new Christmas decoration, which I will photograph once it's up. It's very apt. Stay tuned.

OMFG, DMV!

Warning: If you're looking for a quick, clear recap of events, you won't find it here. If you like wading through the intricacies of large bureaucracies, this is the post for you!

What a twisted day it has been.

We decided we'd take our chances and get licenses/partial licenses today. The plan was for me to get my Class C, and for Steve to get his Non-Commercial Class A permit (while temporarily keeping his Texas Class C in the meantime).

We figured the Laguna Hills DMV office would be our best bet. See, Laguna Hills, besides being the office closest to us, is a tiny, quaint suburb. That office is bad enough, so we couldn't even imagine how awful a bigger office would be. That's why we were surprised when each time we checked the approximate wait times online, the Santa Ana office had waits of less than half an hour. Santa Ana is Orange County's largest city, the county seat, and the kind of place you don't go to if you don't have to. But after lunch the wait times were 17 minutes, so off we went.

We filled out our forms and checked the box for "new license." Sure, our old licenses weren't due to expire for years, but we had gotten other licenses out of state in the meantime. We couldn't reinstate our old vehicle registrations, so it didn't even occur to us to apply for a replacement of our old licenses. In fact, it seems downright dishonest and would probably be considered illegal.

So when I was called up to the window and the guy asked if I'd ever had a license in California, I said that we were coming from Texas, but that yes, I used to have a California license. I gave him my old number. He pulled it up, had me do the thumb-print thingy, asked me for my $31 and said my license would arrive in 2-3 weeks.

"I don't have to take a written test?" I asked--both relieved and a little disappointed.

"Nope, your old license is still valid, so we'll just send you a replacement of the old one."

Ooooookay....

That seemed too good to be true, so I went and checked with someone else who said that since my old license wasn't expired, that's how they do it. What's weird is that they didn't take my Texas license, hole-punch it, or even look at it.

Steve, on the other hand, had a little more trouble.

First they had no idea what test to give him, because, as we have learned, people at the DMV often don't actually know what they're doing.

They finally found it and I waited with the kids in the "waiting area" (a long dark hallway) while he took it.

When I noticed him standing at the window again, I headed over to see how it went. He had a pained expression on his face, which I interpreted to mean that he failed the test. Turns out he passed (100 percent!) but there was a problem. Because he, too, had checked the "new license" rather than "replacement license" box, the clerk had created a new record for him. Only they're not supposed to do that, because everyone is only supposed to have one file.

So they got other employees and at least one supervisor involved. First they tried blaming Steve for checking the "wrong" box, but he explained his line of thinking. (If we have to start over again with the vehicles, why not the license?) Plus he had told the woman at the window that he had had a California license as recently as two months ago, but she must not have understood.

They were all a little baffled that Steve didn't pop up in the system anyway, when she entered his information, but for whatever reason he hadn't.

By this point the kids were going nuts, so I took them out to the truck for what I thought would be a quick wait.

An hour later Steve texted me that they were calling Sacramento to see if they could locate their asses.

Elias had to go to the bathroom so I went back in, only to learn that they were insisting that Steve needed to take the Commercial Class A test, which made no sense at all, especially given that numerous DMV documents clearly state what a Non-Commercial Class A is for (fifth wheels over 15,000 lbs).

A guy insisted on going out to look at the truck to see if we had air brakes. What??? Steve played along, and it was finally determined that, oh yeah, you need the Non-Commercial A.

Then it turned out that part of the problem was that in California, Steve had had a Restricted Class B Firefighter license, and the system, for whatever reason, couldn't add a Non-Commercial Class A to the Class B.

The other problem was that in Texas, Steve had just gotten a Class C since he doesn't really need the Class B, since he doesn't drive fire trucks anymore.

So Steve explained that if it was the Class B holding things up, he was willing to forgo that.

I said that the most important thing to us would be to walk out with his Texas Class C still in place, and his California Non-Commercial Class A permit.

Then I had to take the kids back to the truck, so I missed the rest of the dealings, but heard about it from Steve.

They wound up reinstating his Class B license. They also hole-punched his Texas license (making it invalid), and told him that he couldn't get his Non-Commercial Class A permit until his permanent license (as opposed to the paper temporary) arrived in the mail in 2-3 weeks. So that means that even though Steve passed the written test (with a 100 percent), which should have allowed him to get his permit, he didn't. And we also can't legally tow the trailer in California since he no longer has a valid Texas license.

So we walked out as official Californians again, but probably worse off than we were at the beginning of the day.

I'm not at all confident that any of the stuff they did was correct, nor that it won't come back to bite us in some way later.

In the meantime, it's a good thing we decided not to go on a trip over Thanksgiving because there's a good chance we still won't be able to pull Homer by then.

To think that if we had skipped the whole Texas thing we'd probably be done with this process by now...

Sigh

I guess it was pretty naive of me to assume that the DMV employee knew more about DMV regulations than the AAA employees.

I did drag the kids to AAA. Four employees, a supervisor, and another call to Sacramento confirmed what we had initially been told: Because the vehicles were registered out-of-state, we do have to go through the whole process anew.

The trip was not for naught, though. The very kind (and efficient, and knowledgeable) AAA people felt very bad for me and gave me forms to fill out to request a partial refund from DMV since we have, essentially, double-paid a good portion of our registration. They said to include a detailed letter and to be prepared to wait months for a response. I'm not optimistic about what that response will be, but I do write damn good letters, so we'll see.

Also, I did find the verbiage on our Texas registration that shows we did not transfer title. So the AAA woman was able to take that, do the VIN inspection, complete our application, and issue our new California registration and license plates for the Pilot.

In all the confusion I forgot to ask how I go about actually canceling (again) our old California registration--or if I even need to now that there's a new one associated with that VIN number--but that's a battle for next week. I'm taking the rest of this week off.

And the Cluster$*%^# begins again...

When I got the mail yesterday afternoon, I was amazed to find two letters from the California DMV. We had only registered our vehicles on Saturday at 4:00. How could they have mailed us something pertaining to it by Monday?

Turns out, it wasn't regarding our new registrations. Instead, they were Notices of Intent to Suspend (our prior registrations) because of a lack of insurance.

See, the DMV would have received notice when we canceled our previous California insurance, which we did after we secured insurance in Texas.

However, they also should have received the form I sent in, within 10 days, as required, notifying them that our vehicles were insured in another state.

So I took on the always exciting task of calling the California DMV. After wading through the automated menu I was able to zero-out to get to a representative, all of whom were busy. One thing I can give DMV credit for, though, is having a system that will let you enter your phone number to get called back rather than waiting on hold. I was able to take a shower while waiting for a call back.

The conversation I had with the representative was pretty interesting.

She confirmed that the registration on the Dodge had, in fact, been canceled, so we could disregard that issue.

Then she said that our Honda registration was still valid.

So I explained the whole situation to her--about registering in Texas and now needing to re-register here--and asked if, since our previous registration was still valid and paid up through July, it was possible to just reinstate it...or whatever the right term would be since apparently it was never UNinstated.

She seemed confused for a while, and it turns out that's because she showed that we had already paid for the new registration, which has not yet been issued pending that letter from Texas about the title.

Then she went to talk to her supervisor. She came back and said that, yes, the whole transaction should have cost $6, not the $300 or so (plus smog check) that we have paid to re-register the Pilot. She also said that if our Texas registration said on it "Non-Negotiable" or something similar, we should not need a letter about the title, either.

She suggested we call AAA to see if they had submitted the paperwork yet. If not, they should be able to reverse it. If they have, there's some way to apply for a refund, apparently.

So now I'm debating whether it's worth $294 to deal with dragging the kids back to AAA or standing in line at the DMV. It probably isn't, but it's the principle involved...

It's a Wonderful Life

I never visited Soviet Russia, but I imagine it looked a lot like the California DMV.

Many years ago, my local DMV office in Laguna Hills, California, was a lovely place. It had blue carpeting, counters made of wood (or some other dark substance), low lighting, comfortable chairs, and friendly people. On the few occasions I was there, I never experienced more than a 10-minute wait. It resembled a Starbucks more than a government office.

Then something happened. At some point the office was remodeled and transformed into the height of bureaucratic institutionalism.

Now there are white floors, white walls, and glaring fluorescent lights. There are rows of chairs cordoned off into what resembles a holding cell. The line to check in extends out the door, and once you check in, you are tersely given a number and sent to the holding cell. Last year when I had to renew my license in person, we walked in and Elias immediately whimpered, "I don't like this place." It does give off a truly cold, unsettling vibe.

Our experience in Texas was much different. Before we left on our trip I had to call a few times with questions. The folks at the Polk County Tax Assessor's Office and the Department of Public Safety answered both the phone and my questions in a timely manner. When we got there, we saw that the Tax Assessor's Office looked like something out of Bedford Falls. I half expected to see Jimmy Stewart manning the phone. The people were helpful and, best of all, accessible.

Even so, I was concerned about my task for today: calling to get a letter stating that we never had the title to our Pilot issued in Texas. It seemed like a slightly unusual request, plus it's always harder to prove a negative. But I figured I needed to call and get the ball rolling.

So I called the Tax Assessor's Office where we had registered our cars. The woman who answered transfered me to the vehicle registration department (which was probably the woman sitting right next to her), and I explained the situation. She asked for our license plate number, our names, and an address. Then she said, "Ok, I'll try to get that letter in the mail to you today."

Wow.

Needless to say, we will miss that kind of efficiency.

I just tried making an appointment to get my license here in California, since you're supposed to get your license within 10 days of becoming a resident. The first available time slot is December 7.

California, Here We Are

We have officially started the process of becoming Californians again.

It has been an expensive, though so far relatively headache-free, process.

Although our vehicles were previously registered here well into next year, we had to start the process over (and pay the associated fees) as though they never had been. We figured that would be the case, but it was still a bummer to have it confirmed.

We had to get California insurance again, and because of the two months we were insured in Texas, we lost our California "continuous insurance" discount. We had to pay the difference in sales tax on Homer. We had to get smog tests for the car and truck. We had to tow Homer over to the AAA office so the insurance people could take photos and so they could do a VIN identification for the DMV.

(By the way, we have been able to take care of all the registration at the AAA office. They are so much nicer and more efficient than the DMV people. They also had a toddler-sized picnic table set up by the desk, and an employee brought over coloring books and crayons for the kids.)

We can't register the Pilot yet because we have to get a letter from Texas stating that they never issued a title there. (They were huge sticklers about us registering our cars, but they couldn't have cared less about the title: They specifically gave us the option of changing the title or not.) Hopefully we can get that faxed over on Monday.

There is still the issue of the licenses, which we have to do at the DMV. We're going to get our Class C's for now, and then Steve will start the process of getting his Class A. Unlike in Texas, we actually have to take a written test here. I took five practice tests online and only missed three questions, so hopefully I'll be ok. I'm sure Steve will be.

The thing that sucks most is that we're not going to be able to vote in this election. Based on the amount of campaign literature we've been receiving, we're still on the books in California, but we're technically registered to vote in Texas. (We figured we were doing our civic duty.) We could probably walk into our polling place and vote and no one would know the difference, but we're not really keen on committing voter fraud, so we'll sit this one out.

I don't know the total cost of everything we paid to register in Texas, plus the additional cost of re-registering here. I could total it up, but I'm not going to. I figure we'll chalk it up as part of the experience.

Incidentally, there was a young couple next to us at the DMV desk at AAA today. The husband was in the military and newly stationed here. They thought they needed to establish residency here and register their vehicles and everything. That would include paying the difference in sales tax on the car they paid 3% on in Virginia (so they'd be paying another 6% or so). The AAA people explained that because they're military, they didn't need to register here. The couple seemed hesitant and kept talking it over. The AAA people, while not overtly telling them not to change their residency, were subtly begging them not to do it. Steve and I kept whispering under our breath, "Don't do it, don't do it!" They left, still Virginians, to go home and think about it.

Although it feels strangely reassuring to become Californians again, the extra taxes and fees are among the main reasons we're still looking forward to leaving.

Thanksgiving

To say I love Thanksgiving would be an understatement. To say I'm obsessive about Thanksgiving would also be a bit of an understatement. To say I'm a control freak about Thanksgiving would be...well, you get the idea.

The holiday has always played a central role in my life: I was born on Thanksgiving day. As a kid, I thought it was awesome that my birthday was always on/around the holiday, and it didn't hurt that I got to gorge myself on turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and birthday pumpkin pie (who needs cake?).

That's not to say that all of my Thanksgivings were great.

There was the year we had dinner with my mom's friend, who had disliked me since I was a child and made passive-aggressive remarks to and about me the whole night.

There was the time that my mom and I had dinner with some friends of hers and their college-age daughter. We would later find out that the couple was getting a divorce, which explained why (with the exception of a few pleasantries exchanged between the daughter and us) no one spoke during the entire meal. They also sent us away without leftovers.

There was the time, when I was about 8, that my parents were both working around the clock on different projects: my mom on her Master's dissertation, and my dad on a series of articles that would later win him a Pulitzer.

That year, Thanksgiving was just another day at the office. I spent the afternoon playing with my new birthday presents and the Billy Joel album I had received a day or two before. As the sun started to set, I began to wonder when we would eat and why no one was in the kitchen cooking.

When I inquired, it became obvious that my parents had either lost track of time or forgot it was Thanksgiving all together. By then, of course, it was too late to make a turkey (if we even had one), and all the restaurants were either closed or booked.

We had pancakes.

These experiences (especially the pancake dinner) are what drove me toward my current obsession. When I grew up and moved out on my own, I decided to reclaim the holiday. If I were in charge, I'd know it would be right. I could make sure I had all my favorite foods, done correctly. (Stuffing with sausage? No.) I could make sure everyone went home with leftovers. I would ensure there would be no pancakes.

So for the past 10 years or so, I have compiled recipes that I file in my Thanksgiving binder, which represents, by far, the height of my organizational skills. Around September I start planning recipes and decorations. By the beginning of November I start working on my schedule for Thanksgiving Week. I spend two or three days cooking a meal that lasts 40 minutes. And then, the day after Thanksgiving, I vow that I'm taking the next year off, although I never do.

Until now?

It looked like this year would end my streak. We were going to be living in the trailer by now, and it would be hard to cook a feast for a dozen people, even if they wanted to make the long drive out to the middle of nowhere.

We considered taking Homer to the beach, but he's too big. So then we decided to go to Solvang, just us and the kids. We'd make a small turkey breast and some sides.

But then Homer had his hitch issues, and we've been going back and forth about everything, and now it's probably too late to make reservations, plus I'm having minor panic attacks about Thanksgiving not being "right."

My dad offered to host at his house, but his oven is too small to make a proper turkey. He offered to take us to a restaurant, but that feels sacrilegious.

So, I made the only logical choice: I'll host and cook as usual.

I'll need to restock my kitchen supplies, of course. I have no pie plates, rolling pin, or casserole dishes. I'm not sure I have a roasting pan. But I will overcome. Nothing will come between me and a perfect Thanksgiving feast.

Bumps in the road

This is a post I have needed to write for a few days now, but I haven't even wanted to think about it, let alone sit down and type.

Until recently I thought that baseball offered the best analogies for life, but now I'm starting to think that the road does. You see, we have reached a dead end. Or perhaps just a detour. I don't know.

But the bottom line is that we have decided to postpone our launch date. Instead of leaving in March 2011, things are on hold...for a while. It could be another six months, or a year, or up to two years (likely not beyond that, though).

It's no surprise that thus far, things have not gone as we planned. From the whole Texas-paperwork-fiasco to the trailer breaking within a half-hour of owning it to the housing market taking another nosedive, we have not gotten off to a good start.

These setbacks have forced us to take a closer look at the overall situation, which has been hard in itself. Once you start down a road, you want to keep going.

At some point, though, after hitting pothole after pothole, you start wondering if maybe you took the wrong route.

In literal terms, leaving right now doesn't make financial sense.

Steve went to a required retirement seminar the other day and came home with a breakdown of what he would retire with now vs. when he maxes out his pension (in two years). The difference isn't enormous, but it's significant.

Starting in February we will also have an increase in income that will last until Steve retires. If he leaves in March, we would only see that increase for one month. The longer he works, the longer we benefit.

Obviously we already knew all that to some extent. The biggest factor has been the house. The market here has been depressed for a couple years but had recently experienced an uptick. We expected to be able to take advantage of that and sell the house for what we paid, thereby recouping our down payment. That, in our minds, would compensate for not maxing out the pension and giving up the added income.

But to sell the house now would mean giving up all of it. Renting it out, besides being a humongous headache, wouldn't make a lot of financial sense either, in the end.

Then we also learned that when our mortgage readjusts next year, our payments will indeed increase, but not by nearly as much as we expected.

Add up all the factors, and, frankly, we'd be idiots not to hold off for a while.

Of course, this decision comes with new headaches. If we're staying here, we have to re-Californianize ourselves, making the whole Texas thing a huge waste of time and money (not to mention the toll it took on our sanity).  

It also raises questions about what to do about Homer. To tow him here, as Californians, we need the Class A license. He is way too big to use as an occasional vacation trailer, and it makes no sense to keep him in storage for the next who-knows-how-long. So, as much as it hurts to consider it, we are thinking about selling him or trading him in for something smaller until we need something bigger again.

So that's the situation.

For my entire adult life it has been my mantra not to plan too far ahead because once you start speeding down one path, you're likely to miss other--potentially better--ones.

Still, though, this feels like admitting defeat, like we failed before we even set out. It probably doesn't help that we just watched Lost in America, in which the characters did just that.

It's hard to get halfway to your destination before realizing that you left the stove on. But at that point, you can lose some time and go back to take care of it or you can keep driving and ignore the imminent disaster. Ok, maybe that analogy is a bit too dire, but that's how it feels right now.

I plan on keeping up the blog in anticipation of when we do actually set out. I hope you'll keep reading while we are parked here on the side, waiting for the road to get smoothed out.

Lost in America

Many, many years ago, when I was still in high school, my dad decided that he was going to have me watch several Albert Brooks movies. I think Dad had come to the conclusion that Brooks is a cinematic genius and wanted to share that genius with me. Since we typically have similar tastes in movies (Citizen Kane not withstanding), it was a reasonable request.

It turned out, though, that Albert Brooks would divide us the same way Charles Foster Kane had. After dutifully sitting through two Brooks movies, I declared the man a bore and refused to watch anything more.

One of those movies was Lost in America. The movie had such little impact on me that until recently I forgot it even existed. I would not have been able to tell you any of the plot, let alone any of the dialogue.

Then my history professor from college (the one who taught my American Highways course) emailed me a couple weeks ago to suggest that I watch it.

Slowly, bits of the movie started coming back to me: A couple sells all their belongings to head out in an RV. Well, that's certainly worth a watch!

So I put it in my Netflix queue and waited.

It arrived the other day, and Steve and I watched the other night. (The rest of this post contains spoilers, so if you don't want to know what happens in the movie, stop reading.)

Basically, a guy from LA gets passed over for a promotion. He quits his high-paying, white-collar job and convinces his wife to do the same. They decide to "drop out of society" and travel the country, like in Easy Rider. They forgo the deposit on their newly purchased house, liquidate their assets, and head out with a $145,000 nest egg to last the rest of their lives.

Their first stop is Las Vegas, where the wife gambles away all but $800 of said nest egg. They keep driving as far as Podunk, Arizona, where they decide they'll get jobs and rebuild their savings.

They quickly realize that they are not cut out for entry-level blue-collar life and decide to high-tail it to New York, where the husband begs back his old job, at one-third the salary, "but with better dental."

As soon as the movie was over, Steve said, sarcastically, "Well, that was inspirational."

It's true that the movie is a bit unsettling given our current situation. Southern California yuppies leaving their lives behind to experience America on the road, then failing miserably after only a couple weeks.

At the same time, though, the movie is absolutely hilarious, and I'm not sure why I didn't see that before. Maybe when I first saw it I was in a bad mood, or maybe didn't have the life experience to appreciate it, or maybe I was determined to prove my dad wrong about something. But I will admit it now: He was right, and Lost in America is a piece of genius. I might even watch it again before I send it back to Netflix, and I'll probably add a couple more Albert Brooks movies to my queue. I'm still not admitting defeat on Citizen Kane, though.

Getting Some Kicks

We headed up to Pomona today for the 58th Annual California RV Show. It was pretty disappointing, to be honest. Since we already have our trailer, we went mainly in hopes of checking out some peddlers of various wares we might need while on the road. To our dismay, there were hardly any vendors there.

Since we didn't spend much time at the show, I decided to take Steve and the kids on a fun little trip.

First we stopped at No Sugar Added in Claremont, my favorite purveyor of cloth diapers, wooden toys, and other such articles.

Then I had everyone pile into the car to go on a little trip down Foothill Boulevard, part of old Route 66.

First stop was to see the Madonna of the Trail, which I wrote about in a recent post. Sure enough, she was right there at Foothill and Euclid. I really don't know how I missed her all those times, but, in my defense, she stands on the center median of the Boulevard off to one side, not right on a corner. I always drove past her, rather than toward her.

I left Steve and the kids in the car while I went to get some photos.



I wanted to try to get a photo of myself with her, but there were no available pedestrians around. I'm a big fan of pointing one's camera at oneself with outstretched arms, but there were a ton of cars waiting at the lights, and I was sure the drivers were all staring at me, which made me too self-conscious to try.

Then it was off to the Wigwam Motel!

I had driven there twice before. The first time was my freshman year of college, late at night, when my friend and I were starving. We were sick of Taco Bell, and Denny's had an inexplicably long wait that night. There weren't too many other dining options at midnight in Claremont back then, so we decided to drive until we found something.

My sense of direction isn't that great, so I headed toward what I thought was Ontario Airport. Instead, we drove and drove and drove down Foothill Boulevard--encountering no open restaurants--until we reached San Bernardino, about 30 miles away. At that point we resigned ourselves to two facts: This wasn't the way to the airport, and we weren't eating until morning.

I turned the car around only to notice a ring of giant teepees in front of me. I knew of the Wigwam Motels, but I had no idea they were right there! I vowed to go back another time, preferably in daylight.

A year or two later, on a day I had nothing else to do, I drove out there again. I wanted to see the teepees, but I also wanted to drive farther down, just to find more evidence of Route 66's heyday.

The area is built up now, but once in a while, between newly constructed strip malls and housing tracts, you can glimpse indications of the past. There are some tiny old buildings--some abandoned, some still in use--ancient motels boasting "Color TV!",  and the occasional signs in googie-architecture style.

So that day, back in college, I decided I'd drive until it got dark. But I underestimated how long it would take to get to the Wigwam Motel, and by the time I made it, the sun was going down. A little ways up ahead was a rail yard with a giant smoke stack that freaked me out, so I turned around and went home. (I have a fear of tall lurking objects.)

Today I had no intention of trekking farther than the Wigwams (which, yet again, took longer to get to than I imagined), but this time I was going to stop and check them out.

For many years the motel was extremely seedy and actually embraced that image, boasting a sign suggesting that people "do it in a teepee." However, I had read that new owners had recently renovated the place and tried to make it more family-friendly.

When I pulled in, the manager, a young guy, came walking up to the car. I thought he was going to tell us to leave if we weren't staying there, but instead he offered to let us look around and even showed us the inside of one of the teepees.

I have to say that the room, the grounds, and the pool were impeccable. Elias, of course, was thrilled that they looked just like the Kozy Kones from Cars.



We talked with the manager for a while and walked around a bit. We told the guy that we'd love to stay there sometime, and we weren't just giving him lip service. We really do want to stay there. Who wouldn't want to sleep in a big, old, historic teepee? (I did not see any signs imploring us to "do it" in one.)

Next time we go back (hopefully soon) we will stay there for a night or two. Maybe we'll make it down a bit farther on Route 66, because I would like to see some more relics of the era. Steve will have to drive, though, because of that big lurking smoke stack.

Life's a Hitch

Sorry it's been a while since I updated. I try to post as often as I can, but not much has happened lately, other than being stuck in real estate limbo. But what else is new?

Anyway, you might recall that we were having some problems with our hitch. In the past few days we have been making some inroads in solving our hitch problems, and in the process have created some new ones.

In an attempt to be clear, concise, and interesting, I have written this post four times. I have come to the conclusion that the details of our hitch problems are far too involved to be clear, concise, or interesting. So here is a very abbreviated recap:

We're having hitch issues.

Some of that is due to improper installation of parts.

Some of it is due to the fact that the components just aren't playing nicely.

Camping World in Katy, Texas, which initially installed the hitch, has offered to reimburse us to have fixed what they messed up. We'll see if they make good.

In the process of having the hitch fixed, we have come to realize that we might need to swap out some parts to make it work better.

Also, after the problems were partially fixed, Homer wound up smashing the track of the Canyonero's bed cover. So that raises a whole new set of questions, and also requires yet another repair.

Slowly but surely we're getting things worked out. Or so we think.

A big change of plans

The macro-plan (head out full-time) is still in place, but we're tweaking some of the other details. The main change is that we're taking the house off the market.

The housing market is just absolutely dead here. We have already lowered the price three times and can't go any lower. Even if we could, I don't think it would matter. People just aren't buying anything.

Part of me wonders if I got a defective EcoJoe, but honestly, god herself couldn't sell this house right now.

Our revised plan, then, is to rent out the house. We have another year until our mortgage readjusts, and rates are so low that it might not be that big a deal when it does. We probably won't be able to bring in enough through rent to cover our expenses, but we should be able to come close. Having the house as a write-off should make up for any loss we take. You know, if things work out the way we plan. And you know how well that's worked out so far.

This is a big change for us psychologically, because we had prepared ourselves to make a clean break. Now we're still hanging on a bit, and it's going to take some getting used to.

In the meantime, things around here are getting back to normal: the sign is gone from our yard and my living room is a mess.

Close to My Heart

I have written about a couple parenting issues I feel very strongly about. There are car seats, of course, and I wrote about the nurse-in in Arizona. Another issue I strongly believe in but don't think I've written about yet is baby-wearing.

Baby-wearing is gaining in popularity, but a lot of people still don't understand it, let alone practice it. Most of the comments I get are positive, although some people look at me like I have two heads. (To be fair, most of those looks came when I was wearing Anna in a sling facing out, with her legs tucked under her, so it sort of looked like I did have two heads. Push, the talking trash can at Disney World, told me that I looked like Signorney Weaver from Alien.)



Baby-wearing got a much-unneeded setback a couple months ago when some carriers were recalled due to baby deaths. These particular "bag" carriers are very padded and do not properly position the baby, who is worn low on the parent's body. The padding can cause suffocation, and it was possible for baby's head to tilt too far forward, cutting off his airway. Most baby-wearing advocates were happy to see that particular type of carrier recalled.

Babies worn in slings should be worn up high, at chest level or above. They should be worn close to the parent's body, and a good, properly fitted sling will allow that. The baby's head should never be tilted toward his or her chest, and fabric should not flop over the baby's face. The recalled carriers do not allow any of that to happen, and were, therefore, inherently dangerous.

However, many people don't understand that there is a difference in types of carriers. They are quick to assume that all carriers are dangerous, even though the reality is that most carriers are perfectly safe if used and fitted properly. Unfortunately, among the people who don't quite "get it" is the Consumer Product Safety Commission, the government agency in charge of urging/forcing recalls.

According to the Baby Carrier Industry Alliance, the entire industry is in jeopardy. Supposedly, a popular manufacturer of (safe) slings was recently approached by the CPSC and told to cease operations immediately. The CPSC, supposedly, claimed that although they had no proof that this company's products were dangerous, it insisted upon a recall anyway. The CPSC has, allegedly, threatened legal action against the entire industry.

I put a lot of "supposedly"s and "allegedly"s in there because apparently the company in question doesn't want to go public right now, so there's no way to verify all that. The story sounds both implausible and completely believable at the same time.

Without being able to confirm details, I have no way to know what--if anything--has been embellished or misunderstood. What I believe, without a doubt, is that it's very likely that CPSC plans on targeting the baby-wearing industry because the agency can't or won't understand the differences.

There is a campaign to get people to write to/call elected officials in position to stop any unnecessary action CPSC might be taking. (see list below) I'm in a bit of a quandary in that Barbara Boxer isn't technically my senator anymore, and I'm ashamed to admit I don't know who my congressperson in Texas is. So I'm figuring out how to proceed.

What I am sure of is that the government should not be taking away our ability to keep our babies close to our hearts, where they belong.



If you live in one of these states/districts, and you are concerned that safe baby carriers might be targeted for unnecessary recall, please contact your representatives. If you don't live in one of these areas, contact your reps anyway.

SENATE: Mark Pryor – Chairman, AR (202) 224-2353
Byron L. Dorgan, ND (202) 224-2551
Barbara Boxer, CA (202) 224-3553
Bill Nelson, FL (202) 224-5274
Claire McCaskill, MO (202) 224-6154
Amy Klobuchar, MN (202) 224-3244
Tom Udall, NM (202) 224-5941
Roger Wicker – Ranking Member, MS (202) 224-6253
Olympia J. Snowe, ME (202) 224-5344
Jim DeMint, SC (202) 224-6121
John Thune, SD (202) 224-2321
Johnny Isakson, GA (202) 224-3643
David Vitter, LA (202) 224-4623


HOUSE: Bobby L. Rush, IL, Chairman 202-225-4372; 773-224-6500
Jan Schakowsky, IL, Vice Chair 202-225-2111; 773-506-7100
Ed Whitfield, KY, Ranking Member 202-225-3115; 270-885-8079
John P. Sarbanes, MD 202-225-4016; 410-832-8890
George Radanovich, CA 202-225-4540; 559-449-2490
Betty Sutton, OH 202-225-2266; 330-865-8450
Cliff Stearns, FL 202-225-5744; 352-351-8777
Frank Pallone, Jr., NJ 202-225-4671; 732-571-1140
Joseph R. Pitts, PA 202-225-2411; 717-303-0667
Bart Gordon, TN 202-225-4231; 615-896-1986
Mary Bono Mack, CA 202-225-5330; 760-320-1076
Bart Stupak, MI 202-225-4735; 231-348-0657
Lee Terry, NE 202-225-4155; 402-397-9944
Gene Green, TX 202-225-1688; 281-999-5879
Sue Wilkins Myrick, NC 202-225-1976; 704-362-1060
Charles A. Gonzalez, TX 202-225-3236; 210-472-6195
Tim Murphy, PA 202-225-2301; 412-344-5583
Anthony D. Weiner, NY 202-225-6616; 718-520-9001
Phil Gingrey, GA 202-225-2931; 770-429-1776
Jim Matheson, UT 202-225-3011; 801-486-1236
Steve Scalise, LA 202-225-3015; 504-837-1259
G. K. Butterfield, NC 202-225-3101; 252-237-9816
Robert E. Latta, OH 202-225-6405; 419-668-0206
John Barrow, GA 202-225-2823; 912-354-7282
Joe Barton, TX 202-225-2002; 817-543-1000

Domestic Diva

One thing I can say about having our house on the market is that it has never looked cleaner. Every time we prepare to leave the house, I run around wiping down sinks, making beds, picking up toys, straightening pillows, putting away dishes, hiding dog bowls, recycling newspapers, and doing any number of other necessary tasks.

One thing I can say about being a great housekeeper is that it sucks. I'm not cut out for immaculance. (To the best of my knowledge, I just made up that word. Let's start using it and get it added to the lexicon.)

Madonna of the Trail

(photo by WG Finely, used under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic License)


During my senior year of college I took a History/American Studies course called "The American Highway." It was basically a study of the history and cultural implications of (wait for it) the American highway, from the early days of dirt roads to the completion of the Interstate system.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I had kept nearly all of my books from college. I also mentioned that I wound up parting with most of them this summer when I finally cleared out our bookshelves. There were, however, a few that I kept.

One of those is a book I was assigned to read in my American Highway class: Uneasy Rider: The Interstate Way of Knowledge. I'll admit that I didn't read the entire book when I took the class. (I admit this with knowledge that I'm going to send a link to this post to the professor who taught the class. Hi, Stu!) I got partway through, then my very important life (read: baseball games) got in the way. But I always meant to go back and read it, and now I am. We're about to set out on the road, so why not read up on it?

The author's premise is that, unlike other writers who look for the "authentic" America on the backroads, he can find it on the Interstate. I could write a whole treatise on that theory (and did, for the class), but that's not the point of this post, so I'll spare you.

The book is filled largely with the author's ego, and also with a tremendous amount of tedious minutiae. It is also, though, speckled with incredibly interesting nuggets of information, which is what keeps me reading it.

I discovered one of those nuggets yesterday: The Madonna of the Trail.

The Madonna of the Trail is an homage to the pioneering spirit of the women who accompanied their men into the western frontier. As you can see from the photo above, the Madonna holds a baby in one arm and has a child clinging to her leg. I can relate. (She also carries a rifle, which I don't, but feel almost obligated to do now that I'm a Texan.)

There are 12 such Madonnas installed in as many states along the National Old Trails Road by the Daughters of the American Revolution. They were all dedicated in the late 1920s, and were part of a pet project by future president Harry Truman.

As an American history nerd, I was excited to have "discovered" these statues, but also regretted that I hadn't known of them before.

When I read the list of where these statues are located I almost literally kicked myself. The westernmost statue stands at the corner of Foothill Blvd. and Euclid Ave. in Upland, California, less than five miles from where I went to college.

I can't tell you how many dozens of times I passed through that intersection. I even recall being stopped at that intersection many times because there is also a Euclid Avenue in my hometown-area of Cleveland, and apparently I was too busy reminiscing to notice the 18-foot-tall monument on the corner.

I do have to question the relevance of locating the statue in Upland. Yes, the highway passed through the city (Foothill Blvd. is also part of the old Route 66), but beyond that, it seems like a stretch. I admit that my memory of westward expansion is rusty, but I don't recall pioneers flocking in their covered wagons to Upland. It's the thought that counts, though.

For a while now I have planned on taking the family on a mini-roadtrip up to that area. One of the original Wigwam Motels still exists in San Bernardino, a fact a friend and I discovered one sleepless college night while searching in vain for a midnight snack. Now I have another stop to add to that trip, and a renewed desire to go.

"We might need it some day"

One of the main roadblocks people face when decluttering is the belief (usually a fallacy) that they might someday need the products in question. We used to say that all the time (still do, to some extent), and you do, too. Admit it.

That ice cream maker you haven't used in four years? What if you suddenly get a hankering for peach-mint ice cream and need to make some? That DVD of Gone with the Wind that is still in shrink wrap after 10 years? What happens when you want to watch it, but Blockbuster has gone out of business and Netflix doesn't have it?

Yes, tough choices indeed.

We have, by necessity, gotten better about getting rid of things. If we haven't used it for a while and have no prospects of doing so anytime soon, we have been able to part without too much heartache or second-guessing.

The downside to that, though, is what happens when you suddenly do need something you no longer own. I have been faced with that predicament twice in the past few days.

The first time was last week when my mom and I were making potica/kolache (Hungarian/Slovenian nut roll). We went over the list of ingredients several times to make sure I had everything we needed. We determined that all we lacked were walnuts and enough butter, so Mom walked to the grocery store to buy them.

Shortly after she left, it occurred to me that I had sold my rolling pins, sort of a necessity for rolling out dough. See, I hate rolling stuff out. I don't like flouring surfaces that inevitably need to be cleaned. I can never roll things evenly enough. The only time I used my rolling pins were for making gingerbread cookies at Christmas, and I guess I figured we could live without those for a couple years.

Anyway, I tried calling my mom, but she had left her cell phone here. I'm not sure the grocery store would have sold rolling pins anyway. I envisioned us rolling out the dough with bean cans. I wondered if  I could substitute PVC pipe for a rolling pin, but I worried about toxic chemicals leaching into the dough. (I never said I was rational.) Finally I calmed down and went to borrow a rolling pin from my neighbor. It was a win-win: I was able to roll out the dough, and my neighbor got a free nut roll.

The second instance of realizing I might have gotten rid of something prematurely occurred last night. I had made some chicken mole for dinner. The cocoa and spices remind me of Christmas, and I commented that it would be a good Christmastime meal. That prompted a discussion about last year's Christmas Eve dinner: Swiss cheese fondue. Elias didn't like it much because he prefers orange cheese. I asked if he'd like to make cheddar cheese fondue this Christmas Eve, and he said he would.

That's when I realized I sold the fondue pot.

I'm sure I could rig something up, but I'm also sure that I won't bother.

Now, do I regret having sold my rolling pins and fondue pot? No, I don't. As I have learned, I can borrow a rolling pin if I need one. True, it might be harder to find one in an RV park than our regular neighborhood, but I bet it's possible. As for the fondue pot, really, we'll live. It's best not to trust Elias with a long sharp fork covered in scalding cheese anyway.

Happy Child Passenger Safety Week!

Today marks the start of a week dedicated to Child Passenger Safety. As most of you know, that's a topic I'm very passionate about. A fellow mommy-blogger interviewed me for an article on her blog, and it occurred to me that I should probably write a post of my own.

There is a lot to know about choosing and using a car seat, but here I present my Top Five Tips for Keeping Your Kids Safe in the Car.

1. Keep your child rear-facing as long as possible.
One year and 20 pounds is so 1990s. The new recommendation is to keep children rear-facing to the limits of their seat. With seats that now have tall shells and can support children to 35, 40, or even 45 pounds, most kids can rear-face for years. Anna will remain rear-facing until she's at least 3 years old, and possibly to 4 or beyond.

We would all be better off riding rear-facing, but that's not an option for adults. Little kids are lucky enough to be able to, so let them.

2. Keep your child in a harness until he's mature enough for a booster.
Just because you can put a toddler or preschooler in a booster doesn't mean you should. Until a child is mature enough to sit in a booster without lunging around and playing with the seatbelt, he should stay in a harnessed seat. We don't recommend boosters until kids are at least 4 years old, but it really depends on the kid. Elias, who has always taken car safety very seriously, didn't ride in a booster until he was 5, and even then it was only-part time. Now that he's 6, he's finally in one full-time. (And even now we have to remind him now and then to stay in position--though in his defense, when he leans over he's usually trying to help retrieve a toy that Anna has thrown down.)

3. Keep your child in a restraint (harness or booster) until the seatbelt fits PROPERLY on its own.
Under California law, my son is old enough to ditch the booster and ride in the seatbelt alone. As CPSTs like to say, though, the laws of physics trump the laws of man. An ill-fitting lap belt can cause terrible internal damage, like ruptured organs and severed spinal columns. When a shoulder belt rubs against a kid's neck, she's likely to put it behind her back, setting up the perfect scenario for head trauma in a crash since nothing is there to restrain the torso.

That's why my children won't ride without a booster until the lap belt fits low on the hips (not on the tummy), the shoulder belt sits across the middle of the shoulder, they can sit all the way back against the seat, their knees bend comfortably at the edge of the seat (to prevent inevitable slouching, which would make the lap belt ride up), and they can stay that way for the entire trip.

4. Know your seat, know your vehicle.
Read the manuals. Really. They're boring and tedious, but they're also full of extremely important information. You might find that not all the information you need to know is included (for example, if you own a Honda, you won't learn that you have to stop using LATCH when your child weighs 40 pounds), but you'll know more than you did when you started. Maybe you'll learn that you can't use LATCH in the center of your car. Maybe you'll learn that your child restraint can't touch the seat in front of it (check the airbag section). Maybe you'll learn that your car seat has an expiration date, or that you can't have your infant seat's handle up in the car. The manuals are a wealth of information. So read them. For real.

5. Get your seat inspected.
Find a Child Passenger Safety Technician and have them check your installation. Many people think they can just go down to the fire or police station, but the reality is that most public servants are not CPSTs. (That doesn't stop many well meaning firefighters from trying to help, but that can put you in a worse position than when you started.) So make sure whoever is helping you is a certified technician. You can find one near you at the SafeKids website or from this thread at car-seat.org. If you're in Orange County, CA, you can get in touch with Safety in Motion for an appointment or to learn about free events.

Sadly, not all technicians are up-to-date on their information or training. A good technician will make sure you install your seat and are comfortable doing so. They won't pressure you to turn your child forward-facing or move to a booster or seatbelt before he/she is ready. They won't tell you to install your seat in a way that contradicts the instructions. (How will you know that? Read your manuals, remember?)

If you want more information on Child Passenger Safety, these are some great resources:

car-seat.org

carseatblog.com

carseat.org

Have a safe and happy week!

Apple-Picking

Here are a few photos from our apple- and raspberry-picking adventure in Oak Glen last week. Our efforts resulted in enough fruit for two amazingly wonderful apple-raspberry pies (not pictured).











This final picture has absolutely nothing to do with fruit harvesting, but I feel bad that Anna dominated the previous photos. This is my handsome boy and the Lego Star Wars vehicle he built the other day.

Shoos!

When I used to dream of having a daughter, I imagined molding her into a miniature version of myself.

Funny how it doesn't really work that way.

See, I was (and largely still am) a tomboy. I preferred baseball to Barbies and Matchbox cars to Rainbow Brite. I never cared for fashion or makeup. Even today, my wardrobe consists of jeans, Old Navy t-shirts, and flip-flops. The closest I get to makeup is Burt's Bee's tinted lip balm.

Yet somehow I have created a daughter who loves nothing more than purses, sunglasses, and, most of all, shoes.

When Anna was about eight months old I had her in a kid's clothing store, and I remember her reaching out to touch the shoes. She threw a fit until I gave her one to carry around while we shopped. I thought it was funny.

One day a few months later we were in a store, and Anna started pointing and saying, "Ooze? Ooze?" Awwww, she was saying "shoes!" One of her first words.

Now it has evolved into a full-blown obsession.

When we were in Texas at the mall where Elias played in the human hamster ball, I took Anna into Stride Rite to look for some shoes. She was in the carrier on my back, and as soon as we walked in I could feel her start squirming with giddiness.

"Ooze!" she yelled.

"Yes, SHoes," I repeated, stressing the "sh."

"Ooze!" she yelled again.

"Yes, SHoes," I repeated.

Imagine that exchange occurring as we passed each of the next three dozen or so pairs of shoes.

Finally, she got the idea that there should be a "sh" sound in there.

"Oosh?" She started saying, a welcome change from the ooze.

"Close. SH-oes."

"Oosh?"

Then she did it.

"Shhhhh. Ooo."

"Yes! Shoe!"

For the next two hours, Anna kept repeating, "shhhhhhh. oooooooo," carefully puckering her little lips into a perfect "sh."

It was quite adorable.

Since then, "shoe" and "shoos" have become her favorite words...and her favorite things.

We were shopping the other day and passed a shoe store. Anna stopped and pointed to each pair in the window, exclaiming, "Shoos! Shoos! Shoos!" She then put her hands behind her back and pressed her face to the window in apparent adoration of the display.

I bought her a pair of cold-weather boots and put them in her closet. When she woke up the next morning, she insisted on holding them while I changed her diaper, and insisted on wearing them all day despite temperatures soaring into the 80s.



Yesterday we went to a Disney outlet store. I was perusing the goods while Anna hung out with my mom in another part of the store.

"Oh!" I heard Anna exclaim. We thought she was happy to have spotted me. A split second later, she squealed, "SHOOOOOOOS," jumped out of my mom's arms, and made a beeline to a display of black Crocs lined with red fur. She grabbed a pair off the rack, sat down on the floor, and proceeded to remove her brown Converse to try them on. How could I tell her no?

I realize that buying my daughter shoes negates our attempt to reduce the number of things we own. But they're so cute, and they make her so happy, and they're small enough that they really don't take up much room. (Plus I only buy on sale.)

And that is how my 17-month old daughter came to own more shoes than I do.

Photos from the trip

Sorry it's been a few days. We've been settling back into our "normal" routine.

Lucy seemed happy to be picked up from boarding, although as usual she never lacked attention while she was there. Apparently they had her sit in on some staff meetings.

Elias has started first grade, and we have work due soon so I've been scrambling to make up for the two weeks we lost while on the road. (Not that we didn't do educational stuff during the travels, and not that I can't have that count as our work, but I do need to get our organization in better shape.)

Steve has gone back to work.

The house is still for sale.

Oh, and Camping World might have messed up our hitch installation. Steve is talking with a hitch expert about that. Could be fun.

But without further ado, here are some photos from our trip, including the remaining photos of Homer's interior that I wasn't able to upload before.

Here's a big rocket at the Johnson Space Center in Houston. See Steve and the kids at the bottom? (At least I think that's Steve and the kids...)


This is the guard station at the Igloo factory in Brookshire, TX. (For the record, they have a factory store there, and we scored about $60 worth of coolers for $20.)


This is the World's Largest Fire Hydrant in Beaumont, TX. It's actually only the third-largest now, but who's counting? It sits outside the Texas Fire Museum and was created to publicize the release of the live-action version of Disney's 101 Dalmatians.


They also have some normal-sized Dalmatian-themed hydrants:


And Elias found a Hidden Mickey on one:


Anna driving a fire truck in the museum:


And Elias:


Here's Anna by the river at the KOA in Junction, TX:


Elias at the site where Billy the Kid was sentenced:


Anna being a goof:


The kids' wardrobe and bathroom in Homer:



Our first dinner in Homer:


A photo of the whole rig:


And finally, a rock Elias found at the campground in Yuma. He thought it looked like a fifth wheel, and I'd say he's absolutely right:

We're home!

Eighteen days and 4,444 miles later, we have finally made it back!

Homer is resting comfortably in an undisclosed location. Lucy is still at the "doggy hotel" (we can't pick her up since it's a holiday). Elias threw up all over the kitchen. Anna is cranky. But Steve is doing the laundry, so I can't complain much.

After we left the KOA where we stayed our first night on the road, we stopped at another KOA in Las Cruces, New Mexico. It wasn't nearly as nice as the first one, but it did the job. We had planned on staying at a place about an hour east of El Paso, but it looked really questionable so we kept driving. We then planned on staying somewhere else (Deming, maybe? It's all blurring together now.), but those also looked sketchy. So we wound up in Las Cruces, which was much farther than we had planned on driving.

Then yesterday we planned on making a short trip and staying two nights wherever we ended up. We figured the kids had put up with a lot of driving and deserved a break, plus we didn't want to drive back into Southern California on Labor Day when we would be sure to hit awful traffic.

Again, the first few places we planned on stopping looked a little scary. So we kept driving and wound up in Yuma, which resulted, again, in far more driving than we had planned. I scoured RV-park reviews online while we were driving and managed to find two that had pull-throughs, 50-amp electric, a pool, and were "family friendly" (a lot of the parks around there are reserved for seniors).

When we finally pulled in to the one we chose, it was a ghost town. Nothing but taped-up trailers waiting for their owners to return in the winter. I think there were only four other people in the whole park, including the people working there.

It was pretty sparse and ridiculously overpriced. Another internet search revealed that there is absolutely NOTHING to do in Yuma during the summer. The camel farm doesn't open until October. It was also 110 degrees. We decided that if we left early enough in the morning we should be able to beat the holiday traffic.

In the meantime, it was so hot that Steve and I were both able to shower this morning without turning on the hot water. I'm not exaggerating: the cold water was warm enough to bathe in at the same temperature we normally would.

We did hit a little traffic, but not enough to make us regret our decision.

In retrospect, we wish we had stayed at that first KOA (the one with the amazing barbeque) for another night or two. But there will be other opportunities.

I have many more observations and things to write about and photos to post, but those can wait until later. Right now I'm going to get the kids to bed and take a nice hot bath.

We're on our way!

We have made it out of Southeast Texas!

And we have hot water!

Someone from my car seat message board (the person who initially shared the link to the trailer we wound up buying) suggested that we see if we have an electronic water heater. Steve poked around a little this morning and didn't see one, but he did realize that we had propane after all. I'm willing to give him a break since he was setting everything up in the dark with rain pouring on him last night.

We left the Houston area this morning and figured we'd see how far we made it. We did have to plan a little bit since the middle of Texas has large expanses of nothingness. I had campgrounds picked out at different intervals, but they were all either too close or too far.

Eventually we decided to stay at one of the "too close" campgrounds. We figured with all the problems we've been having it was better to err on the side of having extra time to set up. Plus Elias had been begging to go swimming, something we hadn't had much of a chance for with everything going crazy.

So we pulled into a Kampground of America camp. We were apprehensive. Steve hadn't had good luck with KOAs in the past and I have an aversion to things that are intentionally misspelled, especially with a K.

But this place is actually really nice. Pricey, but nice. The "playground" is kind of lame, but Elias enjoyed the pool, and the campground is on a lovely river. Anna and I went to hang out there while Steve and Elias swam. We saw several teeny butterflies, some damselflies (I think), and some kind of huge yet elusive jumping bugs. They even have canoes for rent, which I would love to do if we were staying here longer.

For dinner we went to a hole-in-the-wall-inside-a-grocery-store barbeque place and had, possibly, the best meal of our trip. Steve and I were both full half-way through our meals but couldn't stop eating. It was so good I might dedicate another post to it.

We're actually having--dare I say it?--fun! Not that I didn't hope it would be fun, but the trip has been so stressful I had largely given up on it.

I do feel a shift, like the clouds have parted and things are looking up. That statement will be hilarious if we wind up encountering some horrendous problem tomorrow, but I'm sticking with it. I think maybe our luck is finally changing.

Homer's Innards

Today I finally got to see inside Homer. In fact, I'm sitting here at my new desk as I type. Next to my new "fireplace" and TV.

The internet connection is pretty slow, but I was able to upload a few pictures. There are more coming, but I lost the connection during the upload so those will have to wait for another day.

With no further ado, here is the inside of Homer.

The master bedroom:


Dresser, TV, window:


Washer/Dryer:


Closet:


Master bath:


Linen closet:


Living room/kitchen/dining room:


Table and couch:


TV, desk, fireplace, fridge, stove:


The rest of the kitchen:


The kids' room:


Elias is sleeping on the mattress on the floor for the trip home. Later on, we'll get a bed rail and figure out some way for him to get up to the top bunk. Then we'll either leave the spot below as a play space, or we'll put a toddler bed there for Anna. Not sure yet.

Steve has the electric, water, and sewer hooked up, but apparently the dealership failed to fill up our propane as they were supposed to, so we don't have hot water. I guess that means no shower tomorrow.

We will, however, leave tomorrow to start our trip home. Uh, presuming we have no more delays. Fingers crossed.

My mom also pointed out to me the irony of the "Free-Range Family" being so desperate to get home. Obviously once this is our home, it'll be easier. Right now we're sort of in limbo and just want to get back to our normalcy.