After starting with over $51,000 in credit card debt on three cards, I am now down to $32,000 on one card!
Credit Card Debt:
American Express: $31,997
My interest expense on that card is about $250 a month, so maybe my interest rate is higher than I thought? I thought it was prime plus 3%.
Never again, I promise!
I have been able to make bigger payments than I originally budgeted for the last couple of months because I am rarely paying camping fees and my dining out expenses plummeted to almost nothing. I also sold my car (to pay taxes), so was able to drop the insurance and maintenance expenses of that vehicle. (When my permanent address moved to David’s house, our insurance also dropped on the RV and his car.)
I believe I am now upside down on my mortgage in Austin, as I owe about $238K and my new county tax appraisal dropped for the second year in a row. They say my house is now only valued at $225,400. (My lot is valued at $223K and my ‘improvement’ is only valued at $2,400! My house is only worth $2,400!?)
I am clearing (less property management fees) about $1,400 a month on rent. My payment is $2,020, but taxes should drop that just a bit (and I’ve now overpayed my escrow account for the year.)
Hopefully I can keep up with some big payments on that last card. If so, I’ll be out of (credit card) debt in one year!
I am trying again for a refinance on my home mortgage, as I have 6.75% fixed rate on it right now. (I was declined last summer.) I may have to do a cash-in refinance, though.
My plan for now is to start making huge payments on my mortgage (after my credit card debt is paid off) to try to get that paid down in 15 years or so. It is a central Austin house, which I believe will be a good long term investment. If I can do that, then I’d have a paid off, income generating asset by the time I am 55ish. (I’ve had stocks go to zero, so am more interested in investments I can understand and that have some inherent value!)
When I sunk into the mud and started spinning my wheels in David’s back yard, I was grateful to the nice neighbor-man who was able to pull me back onto the grass. He couldn’t pull me any farther, and I (quite mistakenly) believed that when the ground dried out, I’d be able to drive off, since I always park here.
But, two days later I realize I am still stuck.
It finally occurred to me, Oh yeah! I should call that Good Sam emergency service thing and see what they can do for me!
Within an hour, super-winch arrives. (Though there was a slight miscommunication about the size of my rig.)
Yep, that oughta do it.
Hooked up
Honey, is your yard okay?
How many of you go into complete panic mode when someone yells, "Cut left! No, left!" There are some things I have to accept that I cannot learn.
Almost there...
Jenny was here
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Lots of misadventures this week! I’m not sure why.
When I wasn’t doing very well, I got really, really OCD. I would keep my food, my dishes, and my clothing obsessively organized.
My cabinets and house would get so orderly that it freaked my husband out. He finally angrily protested, “It’s like a f*cking Stephen King novel in here!”
But anyone who has ever lived in an RV knows that it is really hard to keep things that upright and symmetrical.
I opened my pantry this morning and realized I am making great progress.
***
I got my Mini stuck in the mud! : ( Luckily, a nice neighbor towed me out.
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I’m still having fun redecorating my RV. I’ve painted, hung curtains, pictures, etc. I hope to get carpet installed. I’ll post pictures when I am done!
Speaking of where I am, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned one of the unexpected challenges of my solitary, nomadic lifestyle.
Whenever I am in a daily driving mode (which is much of the time), I almost always wake up in the middle of the night in extreme confusion. I am alone, in a completely familiar environment (my Mini), but have a disturbing sense of dislocation.
Where am I?
It is always with a sense of alarm. I have an irrational middle-of-the-night fear that I’ve fallen asleep in some inappropriate place – like a gas station, or on the side of the road.
The problem is that, with no visible indicators of where I am, I have to completely wake myself up to figure it out.
Oh, now I remember, I am on my way to Michigan and am parked at a Walmart in Iowa.
But by that time, the adrenaline rush (and cognitive work) have me wide awake.
When I hit the road to drive back to Texas, it started up again. I woke up in Green Bay, Wisconsin in complete confusion and fear.
Exasperated, last night I was determined to fix this problem…
This is the post I’d written for Monday, but I had an unexpected this-feels-too-personal reaction and didn’t want to publish it. Maybe it is because it came from a journal entry, since it isn’t that much more personal than stuff I’ve written before. I don’t know. It just feels really personal! (And is kind of long…)
I’ve had my Mini for almost 6 months now. (Can you believe it has been 6 months?!) So many people tell me that I’ve changed a lot over the last two years, so I wanted to journal a little bit more about that…
I feel like I should be able to write some wonderful, coherent narrative about it, but can’t. So I decided to just start with the simple examination of “I’ve learned…” and see what came out.
So, these are the things I feel like I’ve learned, so far. ; ) Some are repeated, some expanded, some new.
I’ve learned that I can engage in activities that I don’t know how to do well – that I don’t have to be the best at something to derive pleasure from it. (I’ve learned that my desire to be the best was really an attempt to the get the outside world to mark me and my work as valuable.)
I’ve learned that I am still my slightly agitated and anxious self, wherever I am. External circumstances (pretty natural environments) can be helpful and healing, but they don’t do all of the work. Learning to be centered is something I have to remember to practice, accept that I often do poorly, and keep attempting to do.
I’ve learned how to ask for help.
I’ve learned that I can do things that completely terrify me.
I’ve learned that practicing courage is important, especially when I don’t feel courageous. I’ve learned that I need to keep practicing, so that I can connect with that courage when I need it.
I’ve learned to at least try to tackle problems that seem completely beyond my comprehension.
I’ve learned to feel proud of myself. (And to tell people I am.)
I’ve learned that being honest about the darker sides of my character brings people closer to me, but also invokes hostility. (Many a deleted comment!)
I’ve learned that bumps and bruises (my poor Mini) are part of every journey. Instead of perpetually cocooning myself in an attempt to avoid risk or injury, I need to use each event as an opportunity to practice my ability to cope. The more I practice that skill, the more faith I develop in myself. The more faith I develop in myself, the more freedom I have.
I’m slowly learning to hold on to my own anxiety and not be annihilated by it – and to not attempt to get the outside world to solve that problem for me.
I’ve learned that suffering is an important part of the journey. Being brought to the end of my endurance (in suicidal depression) is what it took for me to finally learn to be humble, to listen, and to start over in my attempt to make sense of myself and how to live well in the world.
I’ve learned that I am here to learn from my own journey and have no idea what other people are here to do. This helps me to stay centered when I am around others, and not feel overwhelmed or anxious about what they are struggling with.
I’ve learned that I am not going to figure out the mysteries of the universe. I’m not going to discern meaning in a critical theory course at the University of Chicago. That a big part of the answer is, “I don’t know.” There is an inexplicable mystery that will forever be beyond my comprehension.
I’ve learned that I have no idea who my teachers are. When I am silently ruminating over how I think I know more than some person who is irritating me, I am more likely shutting down the voice of a teacher that I need to learn something from.
I’ve learned that kindness is not something I merely indulge myself in when everything is going my way, but is a discipline I need to practice – especially when I feel tired, irritated, or feel like I have a justifiable complaint against someone. Being mean is being lazy.
(I try to remind myself that my gentleness towards others is something I want to be borne out of my own choice. That my response to the world shouldn’t be determined by this jerk I want to strangle this other person on his own mysterious journey, but by my own decision about how I want to be in the world. To put it more simply, I want to be kind, because I choose to be kind, and not because others are doing and giving me everything I want. )
I’ve learned that living imperfectly in the world is how we do it. That I need to know how to forgive myself as much I need to know how to forgive others.
I’ve learned that the things I am learning do not make up a coherent narrative, but are more like patchwork growth in a never-to-be-competed quilt. (And I think the mixed metaphor works here!)
I’ve learned that I want more connection, but I’m still learning how to do that.
I’ve learned to have faith that if I stay with this, I will learn how.
This post is an overview of the maintenance issues I’ve had since I started my trip. It is probably only of interest to those of you who are worried/curious about this aspect of RVing (or just are really into RVs)!
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Walking out of a fast food restaurant in Anchorage, Alaska:
What is that pool of fluid under my Mini? Oh, crap, it’s oil!
The oil spilled out of my generator, but a local Onan generator shop could not reproduce the problem.
Diagnosis: Oil cap must have shaken loose on my trip. Refilled with oil and no further problems…
Trying to make popcorn at Prince William Sound:
Why doesn’t my microwave work anymore? Is it related to all that sawdust I cleaned up?
Turns out I literally shook loose and destroyed my crappy convection oven microwave on my drive up the Dempster.
Diagnosis: RV dealer said he could reinstall the microwave for four hours labor, or at $125 an hour, for $500. I told him to rip the piece of sh*t out for $50 and throw it away.
Driving into WalMart:
SMASH! Yikes! What in the hell is crashing back and forth in my Mini!
Diagnosis: The magnet that holds my bathroom door fell off. The light wooden door was flying (and smashing) open and closed so hard it came off its tracks. I removed and reinstalled the tracks (simpler than I thought it would be) and used wood glue to cram the magnet back in place.
Waking up in Denali National Park:
Why is my fan kicking off? Oh no, my Mini is running on battery power, even though I’m plugged in to 20 amp!
Diagnosis: My proudest moment! I got out the schematic and was able to figure a little bit of it out! I knew it had to be really early in the shore power system, so thought it was my transfer relay. Someone on RV.net told me to also check my adapter (what you plug your 30 amp into so it will fit into a 110 plug), and that was actually the problem.
More Dempster Damage:
Exterior steps were essentially destroyed, so I had them removed and thrown away.
Two big cracks in my windshield. Replacement will be $394.
Smashed my tail pipe closed. $30 to fix it.
My air conditioner has gone out three times:
First time: Burned out a capacitor, probably due to low voltage. $174
Second time: AC froze up, but turning on the fan for 30 mins fixed the problem. $0
Third time: Actually a failure of the generator to power the house – discovered while stopping for a nap in Oklahoma. (I’ve dumped paying for RV parks and sleep in a lot of truck stops, now.) I drove hard to get to cooler weather and have yet to get fixed. I think its my transfer relay, since plugging in does power the house.
More it’s-too-hot-in-Texas damage:
Caulking around my skylight melted in the scorching sun. After a long day of driving in the rain, I discovered my entire cab over bed was completely soaked. Currently duct taped.
Holding tanks + hot weather = SmellslikeshitRV. Holding tank fans $80.
Other misc:
Ever since I bought my RV, I’ve noticed a very tiny bit off water under my kitchen galley. My water pump will also kick on every 10 minutes or so. (If I forget to turn it off.) It must be part of my fresh water system, but I can’t discover the source.
My overhead dome lights stopped working, but I think it is a fuse. I have to buy fuses and figure out which one it is.
I didn’t cover the generator issue I had (along with the leak) before I crossed into Canada. It was basically just clogged with dirt and debris. The service place just cleaned it out and it works fine now.
Thanks to all of you who helped me with this stuff over at rv.net!
***
The maintenance and repair can feel very demoralizing. When my AC kept going out in Texas, I started writing whiny posts and questioned my decision to move into an RV.
A few things I have to remember:
A quote from my sister, “Jennifer, you took your RV off road four wheeling for 1,000 miles down the Dempster! What did you expect!?”
I knowingly purchased an RV that many have said was poorly constructed to save money. (I really wanted the expensive chassis and wasn’t able to also pay for the higher quality house.)
This isn’t an infinitely complex system. Much of my frustration evolves into encouragement when I realize I’ve learned a bit more about how this RV works. That part makes me feel even more self-sufficient, even though it is a painful process.
It’s good I’ve got a cheaper house, because I’ve already ripped out my dinette and am hoping to get things primed and painted soon! I love the extra space already!
My spirits lifted after I got back on the road and into cooler climes.
I’ll post pictures of the remodel-in-progress soon.
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I enjoyed this RV road trip and repair story:
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I’m flying from Northern Michigan to visit my husband in Santa Fe for a week! I was going to drive,
but decided to keep my home base up north until it cools down.
I do wonder if contending with an extreme level of freedom is giving me a sense of vertigo. If so, it seems like it may be worthwhile to sit with that discomfort and see what comes up, rather than make a hasty retreat to something familiar or traditional to fill that empty space.
I also wonder about motherhood. Did I actually ‘choose’ to be child-free? Or did my fearfulness of commitment and personal relationships force my decision? If so, that doesn’t sound like ‘freedom.’
Mostly, I wonder about my search for ‘inner peace’ in this whole exercise. Sometimes I wonder if I am still looking to the external world (natural parks, etc) to provide that for me.
I mean, is it really a spiritual exercise to demand a nearly perfect environment for contemplation? Or is it a better spiritual exercise to work on centering myself wherever I am? Even if I experience that space as irritating or chaotic?
I guess to put it more simply, is my transition to this lifestyle one of finding inner peace? Or of demanding outer peace?
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For those of you wondering where the RV talk went, I finally am writing a
maintenance, repair, and remodeling (yeah!) update for later this week. ; )
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9 months of sobriety today!
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If you enjoy Bob G’s comments, you should know he’s finally back to blogging. He just posted new videos of his nicely updated 1993 Lazy Daze RV.
As I’ve made my way back to the Texas Gulf Coast, I’ve had this nagging feeling of… So now what?
And another nagging feeling of…I really missed David. I don’t want to feel that emptiness for a while.
And another… So this is it? An indulgent, pleasure seeking life that is all-about-me?
I wish I could drive to Antigua and study Spanish. Maybe participate in a charity there. But you really can’t drive through Mexico right now. (I tend to think that fear-mongering is overblown, but two Mexican friends have insisted that it is not safe. One from the university town of Monterrey says he’s even put his regular road trips home on hold.)
I like natural settings, but after five months I’m getting bored with sitting in scenic spaces.
Learning to be still is good, but wanting (or needing) engaging challenges has to be good, too.
My mind wanders to things like… Study Arabic in Egypt for a month? Start a non-profit charity?
I think the nagging reality is that my life lacks the critical component of making a meaningful contribution.
But I am afraid of commitment! And I am really afraid of personal relationships!
Maybe my next big challenge is to commit to making some kind of contribution, even if it really scares me.
I’ve had some ideas floating around in my head. (Though haunting me is probably a better description.)
One of the voices that keeps getting louder is:
“Hey, Jennifer. Wow, nice life you have now! Remember when you felt trapped as a stripper? When you spent your shift in the dressing room because the customers were dumping you for the younger girls? When you couldn’t get another job because your resume was blank for eight years? That was a scary time! Good thing your husband rescued you from a terrible fate! Hey, quick question – ever thought about about extending a hand to some of the women who aren’t so lucky? Or is your life just too sweet now to be bothered with stuff like that?”
As I started to get well last year, the first realization that something had fundamentally changed in my life was clear as I spent the summer rehabbing a run down mobile home that my family used when I was a child.
My father has owned the trailer for almost 40 years, but it had been long abandoned and essentially destroyed with a caved in roof, extensive water damage, and innumerable animal and pest infestations.
Impractically, I decided to move in and rehab this childhood relic. The restoration was emotionally intense, as the place had been left years ago with all of our toys, photos, and trash untouched. I found my childhood clothing hanging in the closet.
I spent $1,000 repairing the roof and countless hours on the gut-challenging task of cleaning up after raccoons and rats that had moved in (and sometimes died).
Windows were missing. Cabinets were wet and rotten. The stench of animal waste and death seemed to permeate even the woodwork. It was a solitary summer of excavating, of remembering, of bringing it back to life.
With my careful restoration or replacement of each 1970s artifact, I developed a new and intense attachment to this long forgotten place.
It was difficult. It was healing. And it was magical
Before
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.
.
After:
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After the restoration, my plan was to go back this fall (and every summer and fall!) for at least another six weeks.
But I’ve just learned that my sister Joey has moved in. She says she is in love with it and has negotiated a purchase agreement with my father. Just as I did last year, she is now enthusiastically buying vintage items, putting furniture in the woods, and speaking of her magical experiences at the trailer.
I feel an intense grief – even a resentment.I restored it. I felt like it was mine.
But, it isn’t mine. It is my father’s. And he’s agreed to sell it to her. (Since Joey also wants it, my desire to purchase it exclusively was rejected.)
It seems like I should have learned some lesson about ‘things’ or ‘attachment’ that would allow me to better process this.
I think the fact that the restoration of the trailer is such a powerful symbol of my psychological healing makes this harder than it should be.
The trailer is on six spectacular acres. I learned last summer that there are Native American graves that were desecrated and made invisible as a nearby farmer was granted the land in the Homestead Act in the late 19th century.
As I process this loss of something that I imagined was ‘mine’, I can’t help but wonder what those original Ojibwa inhabitants might say to me.
It wasn’t mine. Nothing is (or everything is). And I need to know that.
As I’ve made the effort to be still and immerse myself in the beauty of Alaska, I’ve neglected my efforts to record and/or write about it. Part of that change was not unexpected, as I had a sense after reaching the Arctic Ocean that I may go into a more quiet and reflective mode.
I didn't see her, but Bob did. Mt. McKinley, courtesy of Mr. G.
I have spent most of my time just being still and watching things around the coast, but did travel up to Denali National Park for a week. Since you can’t drive your own vehicle in, if you want to see the park, you have to select one of three tours, each going farther down the road before making a u-turn and coming back.
All are, regrettably, via school bus, so with six hour, eight hour, and twelve hour round trip options, I decided to start with the shortest one.
It’s early in the morning and I’m at the front of the line to board the bus. Channeling some 7th grade version of myself, I make a beeline for the last row, kick my backpack under my seat, and stare out the window, nervous about the random potential of a six hour travel buddy.
The line of tourists filing in is lightening up. Then I see her, hipster California lady, eyeing filled row after filled row. She finally notices the last empty seat next to me and quickly plops down.
Me, pathologically accommodating, “Did you get separated from your travel partner? I can switch seats.”
Out of breath and talking fast, “Oh, no. There are five of us and I am the fifth wheel.” Extending her hand, “Hi, I’m Sharon. I’m from L.A.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Jennifer.” Pausing, “So, what do you do in L.A.?”
“I’m a writer.”
Interesting.I like writers. “What do you write?”
“For a trade publication.”
Curiosity killed the cat.
“What trade publication?”
“AVN.”
Blankly, “What’s that?”
She pauses a moment, as if considering something while looking me over. Then blurts out, “Porn. I review new adult novelty toys and movies.”
Oh my word. Don’t blush, Jennifer. Please don’t blush.
“Oh, okay,” trying to sound nonchalant.
Adopting a more defensive, almost aggressive tone, she’s off and running. Loudly, “Yeah, my friends are always grilling me. ‘Hey, what’s new and good! Send me something!”
9 minutes in. 5 hours and 51 minutes to go.
Seemingly mistaking my silent shock as conservative censure, I’m now getting a lecture on misconceptions about women who work in the sex industry. “These women have it together! They are smart and educated! One of the most popular entertainers is a trained nurse!”
I nod, remembering my insecure defensiveness when I worked as a stripper.
As a former newspaper journalist, she actually ended up being a very interesting conversational partner (who also valued silence). But when she migrated back to the adult entertainment topic late in the day, I finally divulged my history, noting that I was not one of the women who’d “had it together.”
The Denali tour was lovely, but it was a typically cloudy day, so, like most visitors, no views of Mt. McKinley. My campsite outside the park was a paradise overlooking river rapids, so I spent six days watching birds, trains, and a constant stream of river rafters who would (strangely, without exception) wave to me as I sat on the cliffside.
But now I am headed out of Alaska. I thought I might travel down the Pacific Coast or to Northern Michigan, but I’ve decided to head back to Texas. I have hardly seen my husband in three months (and have a new family member to meet!), so am ready to make a fast trek back to the Gulf. My current plan is to spend a couple weeks there before heading out to the Southwest.
On another note, with the paucity of posts, I haven’t been able to write about meeting solo woman fulltimer Rae of Travels with Miranda! I felt such an instant connection with her, and even went out for an evening! A rarity for me. With all her RV mods, she’s even inspired me to make some changes to mine. I think when I get back to David’s house I am going to rip out my dinette and paint my interior. We’ll see.
“Did the entire building just shake back and forth?”
The woman on the other end of the phone line speaks to me with emphatic calmness, “Yes, we just had a little earthquake, but everything is fine.”
Alaska keeps your ego in check. Up here, you never forget that Mother Nature has the upper hand.
Mini, I don't think we're in Canada anymore.
Still, I’ve had a hard time slowing down into her natural beauty.
As I made my way from the Texas Gulf Coast to the Arctic Ocean, every evening was occupied with my planning for the next drive.
I defended that practice, and, to a point, still do. I wanted to get to the Arctic, not take a leisurely tour of North America as I journeyed upward.
But, when I arrive at Prince William Sound and my mind immediately starts clicking with, “Okay, where will I go after this?” I realize I am out of control.
Because of some unexpected good news (which arrived moments before our mini-earthquake), David had to leave Alaska earlier than expected.
I’ve just dropped him off at the airport and am at Prince William Sound alone. It is raining and cold and I am in my Mini, waiting for a clear day to tour.
Surrounded by giant mountains on every side of my RV, each with countless waterfalls rushing down from snow capped peaks, I have my head buried in my computer, frustrated by a poor Internet signal.
It is a bad spiral. I get agitated, I go online. I go online, I get more agitated. As I get increasingly uncomfortable, I start to recognize that it is my compulsive interaction with my phone and Internet that is worsening my mood.
This has been a process. As I’ve removed compulsive behaviors, piece by piece (shopping, drinking, television, etc), I become more aware of that constant background brain-agitation that is constantly scanning my environment for some distraction.
It feels like the more I remove from my life, the louder it gets. I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of my almost constant attempt to engage in some distracting activity.
The realization actually feels pretty good. There is something strangely cathartic about having to contend with it head on.
I close my computer. I turn off my phone. I make some tea. I open all the windows.
I watch the waterfalls and listen to the cacophony of noises that race up, and down, and around in my brain.
It’s a start. And I feel very, very good about my progress.
***
The sun finally came out and I got to take a cruise of Prince William Sound. Teeming with life is an understatement! I saw salmon jumping like crazy, eagles flying, and caught these guys on camera.
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I could learn a lot from this guy.
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p.s. I literally have not opened my laptop in over ten days.
