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Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
On family and the little things
Our travel adventure thus far has involved spending a lot of time with family and friends. While this was not our intentional focus, it has turned out to be a welcome bonus to our location independent wanderings.
Actually, the nature of our travels at this early stage has not been all that different from what Jeremy and I would have done had we had a home base. With my entire village being in Colorado (and by that I mean the "village" needed to keep a 50-something gal looking and feeling her best--doctor, dentist, hair stylist, etc.) I always make a springtime pilgrimage to Denver for visits to these and other service providers. So, heading off to CO to stay and hang out with my kids wasn't exactly considered living the high life of travel.
Then, as coincidence would have it, my brother announced his upcoming wedding in Minnesota, so this past weekend, we (and by "we," I mean the usual assortment of siblings, nieces, nephews, in-laws, kids and grandkids) all jetted off to Minneapolis to participate in the festivities.
These are things I would have done anyway--Happily Homeless or not. They have nonetheless added to our travel perspectives and taught Jeremy and me a thing or two--as this adventure is intended to do. They have in fact, helped us determine where our next hat-hanging spot will be. More on that later.
It's easy to delude oneself that Skype video chats, emails, Facebook, and phone calls are the equal of in-person visits. And indeed, they might come close--if the Skype video were left on all day, or emails flew back and forth incessantly. But since that is not practical, we use what we have when we can. And so interactions with family and friends have become reduced to a series of instant messages, texts, video chats, phone calls and emails. However, it is only when I am in the actual presence of those that I care about that I enjoy the full benefits of true companionship and emotional closeness.
By hanging out with my kids and grandkids since the beginning of this month, I hear about their daily interactions and trials, laugh with them a lot more and have more in-depth conversations. I speak frequently with my sons-in-law, who tend to be more in the background when I video chat with my daughters, but are definitely in the foreground in real life. When I am with my adult children, I fall easily into the Mom role--a role that I love but one that subsides when I am apart from them. Bethany hates tomatoes, don't even think about serving Joel a mushroom. Alyssa only likes soft cookies, not crisp ones, and Jason...(oh hell--Jason eats anything). I don't even have to think about these preferences; they occur to me naturally.
I cook, dispense advice (which is asked for much more often when I am in closer proximity), laud praise, remind, clean up the kitchen, snuggle with my grandchildren and remind everyone not to forget their metaphorical lunch money. I'm a mom...it's what I do.
I enjoy being around for the little things.
In the same way, spending a three day weekend with my extended family offers a glimpse into their lives that I don't get when miles separate us. (Note: for the sake of family harmony, I will use only first initials when talking about family members other than those already introduced in this blog.) My nephew J makes me laugh until milk (okay--wine) snorts out of my nose, niece B shows me her new bedroom and I see firsthand her talent for decorating and utilizing color creatively and harmoniously. We tease nephew J (the other J nephew--there's two of 'em) about his emerging gray hairs while thinking, "How the hell can this be? Didn't I just change his diaper like a couple of years ago?!?" (Note that nephew J, who expressed his enjoyment of this blog several times over the past few days, is probably right now ruing his encouragement of me to "keep up the blogging." LOL. However, I'm sure his wife, J, will enjoy these comments immensely. Yep--she's a J, too.)
So when brother J (Seriously? Another J? Can they get any more boring?) mentioned that he has an extra townhome on his hands (new wife=new life=new home=gotta do something with the old one), Jeremy (we do not need to call him J as you already know all about him and besides, this is getting ridiculous) and I offered to rent it from him for a couple of months until our next house-sitting assignment. It seems like a win/win for all parties involved. I'm wildly excited about spending time with my brother and his family--time separate from weddings, funerals, graduations and other cram-it-all-in-in-a-weekend events. And while I've visited Minnesota for said events over the years, as well as for some consulting work I did there in another life, I've never actually stayed there long enough to explore it.
And so, on to the next chapter of our adventure--in a little while--we'll let J and B (Phew! he did not marry a J) return from their honeymoon first. A stint in Minnesota was not what we'd intended or planned for, nor was spending time with my extended family. But, as we suspected when we started out on this journey, opportunities and ideas present themselves from out of the blue. And since my 2011 theme is "Connection," it makes perfect sense to me that the Universe has placed me in close proximity to those with whom it wants me to connect.
I can't wait to share in the little things. I might even change my name to Jacinda! Jackie? Jana?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Actually, the nature of our travels at this early stage has not been all that different from what Jeremy and I would have done had we had a home base. With my entire village being in Colorado (and by that I mean the "village" needed to keep a 50-something gal looking and feeling her best--doctor, dentist, hair stylist, etc.) I always make a springtime pilgrimage to Denver for visits to these and other service providers. So, heading off to CO to stay and hang out with my kids wasn't exactly considered living the high life of travel.
Then, as coincidence would have it, my brother announced his upcoming wedding in Minnesota, so this past weekend, we (and by "we," I mean the usual assortment of siblings, nieces, nephews, in-laws, kids and grandkids) all jetted off to Minneapolis to participate in the festivities.
These are things I would have done anyway--Happily Homeless or not. They have nonetheless added to our travel perspectives and taught Jeremy and me a thing or two--as this adventure is intended to do. They have in fact, helped us determine where our next hat-hanging spot will be. More on that later.
It's easy to delude oneself that Skype video chats, emails, Facebook, and phone calls are the equal of in-person visits. And indeed, they might come close--if the Skype video were left on all day, or emails flew back and forth incessantly. But since that is not practical, we use what we have when we can. And so interactions with family and friends have become reduced to a series of instant messages, texts, video chats, phone calls and emails. However, it is only when I am in the actual presence of those that I care about that I enjoy the full benefits of true companionship and emotional closeness.
By hanging out with my kids and grandkids since the beginning of this month, I hear about their daily interactions and trials, laugh with them a lot more and have more in-depth conversations. I speak frequently with my sons-in-law, who tend to be more in the background when I video chat with my daughters, but are definitely in the foreground in real life. When I am with my adult children, I fall easily into the Mom role--a role that I love but one that subsides when I am apart from them. Bethany hates tomatoes, don't even think about serving Joel a mushroom. Alyssa only likes soft cookies, not crisp ones, and Jason...(oh hell--Jason eats anything). I don't even have to think about these preferences; they occur to me naturally.
I cook, dispense advice (which is asked for much more often when I am in closer proximity), laud praise, remind, clean up the kitchen, snuggle with my grandchildren and remind everyone not to forget their metaphorical lunch money. I'm a mom...it's what I do.
I enjoy being around for the little things.
In the same way, spending a three day weekend with my extended family offers a glimpse into their lives that I don't get when miles separate us. (Note: for the sake of family harmony, I will use only first initials when talking about family members other than those already introduced in this blog.) My nephew J makes me laugh until milk (okay--wine) snorts out of my nose, niece B shows me her new bedroom and I see firsthand her talent for decorating and utilizing color creatively and harmoniously. We tease nephew J (the other J nephew--there's two of 'em) about his emerging gray hairs while thinking, "How the hell can this be? Didn't I just change his diaper like a couple of years ago?!?" (Note that nephew J, who expressed his enjoyment of this blog several times over the past few days, is probably right now ruing his encouragement of me to "keep up the blogging." LOL. However, I'm sure his wife, J, will enjoy these comments immensely. Yep--she's a J, too.)
So when brother J (Seriously? Another J? Can they get any more boring?) mentioned that he has an extra townhome on his hands (new wife=new life=new home=gotta do something with the old one), Jeremy (we do not need to call him J as you already know all about him and besides, this is getting ridiculous) and I offered to rent it from him for a couple of months until our next house-sitting assignment. It seems like a win/win for all parties involved. I'm wildly excited about spending time with my brother and his family--time separate from weddings, funerals, graduations and other cram-it-all-in-in-a-weekend events. And while I've visited Minnesota for said events over the years, as well as for some consulting work I did there in another life, I've never actually stayed there long enough to explore it.
And so, on to the next chapter of our adventure--in a little while--we'll let J and B (Phew! he did not marry a J) return from their honeymoon first. A stint in Minnesota was not what we'd intended or planned for, nor was spending time with my extended family. But, as we suspected when we started out on this journey, opportunities and ideas present themselves from out of the blue. And since my 2011 theme is "Connection," it makes perfect sense to me that the Universe has placed me in close proximity to those with whom it wants me to connect.
I can't wait to share in the little things. I might even change my name to Jacinda! Jackie? Jana?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The cost of free
I was brought up in a fairly frugal family and have cheerfully adopted many thrifty traits as my own (although I refuse to wash and reuse aluminum foil as my mother did). So, I am often enticed by anything labelled "free". I'm not stupid and I'm probably the least likely person to get lured into a scam by the use of the word. But a legitimate freebie? Oh baby! Yep, more often than not, I'm in.
However, I am a minimalist work in progress and I erred big-time recently. One of my Facebook friends posted a link to free IMAX tickets at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. The free presentation was showing on a night when I'd be in Denver, so I eagerly scooped up four tickets for Jeremy, Bethany, Kaydi and myself. On the night of the event, Jeremy and I drove across town in rush hour traffic, met the kids for dinner, where I we picked up the $38 tab, and then schlepped back across town to wait in line for the IMAX tickets (at which point I woefully realized that I should have worn a coat). Once inside and seated (and I'd stopped shivering), I realized I was a few inches from a woman heavily doused with perfume--the "scent" (and I use the term very lightly) of which was strong enough to gag a skunk. The film was okay--not my favorite IMAX movie of all times, but interesting and had great cinematography. Then, back in the car, to drop off Beth and Kaydi (whom we'd offered to drive to avoid using two cars). The back to Alyssa's house to drop into bed exhausted.
Summary of the night? Well, it certainly wasn't free, as it cost us money for dinner and gas. My eyes were damn near swollen shut from my perfume allergy. I ate more than I should--always do when I go out to eat and it never tastes as good as the meals I make myself. And sure the company was great--we always enjoy spending time with Bethany and crew. But we could have done that without the "free" IMAX tix. Had the movie been fantastic, it may have been worth it, but since it was just okay....hmmm...not so much.
I think a true minimalist is one who evaluates the usefulness and joy brought about not only by objects, but also by the events that come into our lives. Sure, it's a no-brainer that expensive homes have to be maintained and tchotskies have to be dusted. But minimalism isn't only about the stuff that physically clutters our lives; it's also about the way our time gets over-scheduled as well (also our thoughts, but that's another blog post). Allowing one's time to be governed by occurrences and events that don't enrich us as much as we deserve to be enriched is just as wasteful, in my opinion, as frivolously spending money on items we don't need.
Had I been more introspective about how I wanted to use my time last week, then I would have rationalized that even though the IMAX tickets were free, the overall experience was not going to bring me the amount of joy equal to the amount of time and money that I spent on the event. And while Stinky Perfume Lady couldn't have been anticipated, I did know that driving across town in traffic would be irritating and that dinner would be costly in terms of both calories and cash. But did I think about those things beforehand? Nope. I got drawn in by "free" and never looked back--until the Monday morning quarterbacking phase, at least.
But that's okay. Minimalism is a journey, not a destination, and I am certainly learning much along the way. And what I've learned about minimalism this week is that it's not only about tangible stuff but the intangibles as well. I, for one, plan to become a lot more frugal with how the currency of my time gets spent.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
However, I am a minimalist work in progress and I erred big-time recently. One of my Facebook friends posted a link to free IMAX tickets at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. The free presentation was showing on a night when I'd be in Denver, so I eagerly scooped up four tickets for Jeremy, Bethany, Kaydi and myself. On the night of the event, Jeremy and I drove across town in rush hour traffic, met the kids for dinner, where I we picked up the $38 tab, and then schlepped back across town to wait in line for the IMAX tickets (at which point I woefully realized that I should have worn a coat). Once inside and seated (and I'd stopped shivering), I realized I was a few inches from a woman heavily doused with perfume--the "scent" (and I use the term very lightly) of which was strong enough to gag a skunk. The film was okay--not my favorite IMAX movie of all times, but interesting and had great cinematography. Then, back in the car, to drop off Beth and Kaydi (whom we'd offered to drive to avoid using two cars). The back to Alyssa's house to drop into bed exhausted.
Summary of the night? Well, it certainly wasn't free, as it cost us money for dinner and gas. My eyes were damn near swollen shut from my perfume allergy. I ate more than I should--always do when I go out to eat and it never tastes as good as the meals I make myself. And sure the company was great--we always enjoy spending time with Bethany and crew. But we could have done that without the "free" IMAX tix. Had the movie been fantastic, it may have been worth it, but since it was just okay....hmmm...not so much.
I think a true minimalist is one who evaluates the usefulness and joy brought about not only by objects, but also by the events that come into our lives. Sure, it's a no-brainer that expensive homes have to be maintained and tchotskies have to be dusted. But minimalism isn't only about the stuff that physically clutters our lives; it's also about the way our time gets over-scheduled as well (also our thoughts, but that's another blog post). Allowing one's time to be governed by occurrences and events that don't enrich us as much as we deserve to be enriched is just as wasteful, in my opinion, as frivolously spending money on items we don't need.
Had I been more introspective about how I wanted to use my time last week, then I would have rationalized that even though the IMAX tickets were free, the overall experience was not going to bring me the amount of joy equal to the amount of time and money that I spent on the event. And while Stinky Perfume Lady couldn't have been anticipated, I did know that driving across town in traffic would be irritating and that dinner would be costly in terms of both calories and cash. But did I think about those things beforehand? Nope. I got drawn in by "free" and never looked back--until the Monday morning quarterbacking phase, at least.
But that's okay. Minimalism is a journey, not a destination, and I am certainly learning much along the way. And what I've learned about minimalism this week is that it's not only about tangible stuff but the intangibles as well. I, for one, plan to become a lot more frugal with how the currency of my time gets spent.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
If only I had the answers to life's tough questions
I'm used to not having answers to some of life's more basic questions. The toughest one for me to date has been the "What do you do?" query. Not only am I am a wedding officiant (a "job" that many have never heard of outside of traditional clergy or judicial officers) but I've put together a wedding officiating business with a large group of officiants under one umbrella. This is pretty unusual and is not conducive to a short response when asked "what do you do?"
If I say, "I am a wedding officiant," not only is it an incomplete truth, but I inevitably get a response of, "Oh, you're a wedding planner! How fun--you must like planning parties." Or (and this one is always accompanied by a puzzled look, "You mean you're a minister?" Either way, I'm often stuck with the choice of offering a long explanation or a mumbled--"Sure--that's it."
Neither of these responses is very satisfying, but it's a small price to pay for loving the work I do. In moments of impishness, I sometimes answer the question by saying, "I marry people for money," which always gets me a bemused look (usually as the person backs up a step or two).
But now that I've embraced a location-independent lifestyle, I find myself faced with a new not-easily-answered question.
"Where are you from?"
Such a simple query, on the surface at least. And to the uninspired, there is no comprehension as to why it should be a difficult one to answer. Where do I lay my head at night? Where is my home? In what city do I reside?
In truth, my options at the moment would be along the lines of, "I dunno," "I don't have one," or "It depends."
It appears to be a fundamental premise of living in the U.S. that one has a job and a home. If not, then all kinds of negative connotations are associated with the alternatives. Homeless and unemployed are not exactly life statuses to which most folks aspire.
But here I sit--embracing both of those and no, I don't live with my parents or my adult children, nor do I have a trust fund to cover my daily needs. I am not down and out, down on my luck, downcast or down in the dumps. I do, however, hope to be "down under" before the end of the year as we've already secured two housesits in Australia! I've also downsized, but voluntarily and joyfully so. I am also not upside down on any mortgages, credit cards or other loans because I don't have any.
(Sorry for the digression. I got downright carried away!)
I have three places where my heart feels I am from: Rhode Island (where I was born and raised), Vermont, where I brought up my children and which is undoubtedly the most beautiful place on earth in the autumn, and Colorado, where I lived for 15 years and where my kids and grandkids still reside. But if I tell people I am "from" any of these places, they will assume that I still live there. Besides, that doesn't exactly give an accurate picture, when I can be in New Mexico one month and Ireland the next.
Perhaps when I am out of the country, I can tell people I am "from" the U.S. and that will suffice? However, what is a location independent person to tell people when she is in her own (quite large) country? It can't be "I am permanently traveling," as that inevitably elicits the response of, "Oh, what kind of RV do you have?" which ranks right up there with, "Oh, so you're a minister?" and makes me want to run screaming for the door...if I had one, that is.
And it doesn't help that many people inevitably ascribe stereotypical attributes to people from certain regions of the country. Vermonters are rural-dwelling tree-huggers who love the simple life, Rhode Islanders tawk funny (well, that one happens to be true in my case), Oregonians know about rain, Southerners are rednecks, New Yorkers are brash, Coloradans love to ski, mid-Westerners are boring and predictable, Alaskans kill bears in their leisure time, etc. Enough already! The minute I do tell people where I'm from, they will immediately associate me with a characteristic that more than likely won't be accurate.
So I am open to suggestions on how to answer this query. It's gotta be short and pithy. I can't tolerate (nor, undoubtedly, can the listener) a long drawn out explanation of my Happily Homeless lifestyle. And nothing too touchy feely, either. I'm not about to respond by saying things like, "My home is where my friends are and they are all over the world," or "I reside in my husband's heart." These may be true, but we're not going there. "I live a location-independent lifestyle," sounds haughty and "I'm Happily Homeless," too cutesy. "I'm a nomad," conjures up images of camel treks across the desert and I'm way too fair-skinned for that.
I need a haikuesque-type response that conveys my current (lack of) living arrangement and since I've not managed to come up with one for my career, I figure the odds aren't good that I can produce something witty for this aspect of my life either. Anybody have any suggestions?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
If I say, "I am a wedding officiant," not only is it an incomplete truth, but I inevitably get a response of, "Oh, you're a wedding planner! How fun--you must like planning parties." Or (and this one is always accompanied by a puzzled look, "You mean you're a minister?" Either way, I'm often stuck with the choice of offering a long explanation or a mumbled--"Sure--that's it."
Neither of these responses is very satisfying, but it's a small price to pay for loving the work I do. In moments of impishness, I sometimes answer the question by saying, "I marry people for money," which always gets me a bemused look (usually as the person backs up a step or two).
But now that I've embraced a location-independent lifestyle, I find myself faced with a new not-easily-answered question.
"Where are you from?"
Such a simple query, on the surface at least. And to the uninspired, there is no comprehension as to why it should be a difficult one to answer. Where do I lay my head at night? Where is my home? In what city do I reside?
In truth, my options at the moment would be along the lines of, "I dunno," "I don't have one," or "It depends."
It appears to be a fundamental premise of living in the U.S. that one has a job and a home. If not, then all kinds of negative connotations are associated with the alternatives. Homeless and unemployed are not exactly life statuses to which most folks aspire.
But here I sit--embracing both of those and no, I don't live with my parents or my adult children, nor do I have a trust fund to cover my daily needs. I am not down and out, down on my luck, downcast or down in the dumps. I do, however, hope to be "down under" before the end of the year as we've already secured two housesits in Australia! I've also downsized, but voluntarily and joyfully so. I am also not upside down on any mortgages, credit cards or other loans because I don't have any.
(Sorry for the digression. I got downright carried away!)
I have three places where my heart feels I am from: Rhode Island (where I was born and raised), Vermont, where I brought up my children and which is undoubtedly the most beautiful place on earth in the autumn, and Colorado, where I lived for 15 years and where my kids and grandkids still reside. But if I tell people I am "from" any of these places, they will assume that I still live there. Besides, that doesn't exactly give an accurate picture, when I can be in New Mexico one month and Ireland the next.
Perhaps when I am out of the country, I can tell people I am "from" the U.S. and that will suffice? However, what is a location independent person to tell people when she is in her own (quite large) country? It can't be "I am permanently traveling," as that inevitably elicits the response of, "Oh, what kind of RV do you have?" which ranks right up there with, "Oh, so you're a minister?" and makes me want to run screaming for the door...if I had one, that is.
And it doesn't help that many people inevitably ascribe stereotypical attributes to people from certain regions of the country. Vermonters are rural-dwelling tree-huggers who love the simple life, Rhode Islanders tawk funny (well, that one happens to be true in my case), Oregonians know about rain, Southerners are rednecks, New Yorkers are brash, Coloradans love to ski, mid-Westerners are boring and predictable, Alaskans kill bears in their leisure time, etc. Enough already! The minute I do tell people where I'm from, they will immediately associate me with a characteristic that more than likely won't be accurate.
So I am open to suggestions on how to answer this query. It's gotta be short and pithy. I can't tolerate (nor, undoubtedly, can the listener) a long drawn out explanation of my Happily Homeless lifestyle. And nothing too touchy feely, either. I'm not about to respond by saying things like, "My home is where my friends are and they are all over the world," or "I reside in my husband's heart." These may be true, but we're not going there. "I live a location-independent lifestyle," sounds haughty and "I'm Happily Homeless," too cutesy. "I'm a nomad," conjures up images of camel treks across the desert and I'm way too fair-skinned for that.
I need a haikuesque-type response that conveys my current (lack of) living arrangement and since I've not managed to come up with one for my career, I figure the odds aren't good that I can produce something witty for this aspect of my life either. Anybody have any suggestions?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Hurrying Up to Slow Down
So, we've been on the road for three days now. Notice the dearth of blog entries? That's because we've been freaking insanely busy!
Quick synopsis:
Left Portland on Monday noon, after indulging in our first "Happily Homeless" kiss in the driveway immediately upon surrendering the keys to our (former) home. Ravenous, we made it a whopping 20 miles down the road before we stopped to eat lunch at a fabulous, authentic Chinese restaurant. Okay, Location Independent Living cannot mean that we eat like this every day, or I will weigh 400 pounds.
Three hours later, we arrived at the home of the folks for whom we will be housesitting from late June til mid August. Loved the couple, loved the dogs, loved the house and loved the area. Also loved the elderly mom, who will be staying in her own wing of the house while we are there and upon whom we will look in on from time to time. Delightful lady! I can't wait to hear her stories. (I'll probably drive her crazy!) Homeowners took us our for dinner. Mexican. More great food. Note to self: yogurt and salad tomorrow.
Said couple not only fed us, but gave us the use of their cozy apartment (about 45 minutes away from their house). Not two minutes into our stay, I managed to crash the lovely old suitcase stand that was there--you know, the ones that fold up and have three straps to hold the suitcase? Yeah, we'll those three straps are now toast, thanks to the weight of my carry on bag. Oh dear! Homeowners were gracious to a fault when I admitted my...ummm...clumsiness? negligence? stupidity?
After arriving at the apartment, and having been on the road or packing up the house for much of the day, we buckled down to manage our business. (Oh yeah--that!) We finish work around 10:30 PM.
Tuesday morning, we headed for Reno, after rejecting the Grand Tetons (too cold) and Vegas (too far out of the way). Ride was boring, boring, boring. Who knew there were so many effing trees between Oregon and Nevada? Eight hours of driving and I was ready to pull my hair out. On a more positive note, we figured out how to use the Ipod in the car, so did have some Bill Bryson to listen to for the last three hours.
Tuesday evening: crash at the Reno Day's Inn. Clean, quiet and a fridge and microwave in the room. free Wifi. all for $50 a night. I love Reno! We immediately set up Lyssabeth's World Headquarters and worked until 11 PM.
Wednesday: All hell breaks out in the wedding world. Brides decide they must book us. Now. We keep our noses to our respective grindstones in order to get all the contracts done. At noon, we step outside. It is sunny. We are not in Portland anymore, Dorothy. We slather on sunscreen and head for the casinos. Later, Jeremy goes for a walk and Maureen stays at the casino. Maureen loses money. Maureen now hates Reno.
And here it is Wednesday evening and tomorrow we are bound for Salt Lake City, then for Hotchkiss, CO, where we will get to spend some time with wedding officiant extraordinaire Sunshine Knight, show serves our Western Slope couples. Then, on to Denver to visit the kids and squeeze the grandchildren.
So, ummmm...when does the slow life start?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Quick synopsis:
Left Portland on Monday noon, after indulging in our first "Happily Homeless" kiss in the driveway immediately upon surrendering the keys to our (former) home. Ravenous, we made it a whopping 20 miles down the road before we stopped to eat lunch at a fabulous, authentic Chinese restaurant. Okay, Location Independent Living cannot mean that we eat like this every day, or I will weigh 400 pounds.
Three hours later, we arrived at the home of the folks for whom we will be housesitting from late June til mid August. Loved the couple, loved the dogs, loved the house and loved the area. Also loved the elderly mom, who will be staying in her own wing of the house while we are there and upon whom we will look in on from time to time. Delightful lady! I can't wait to hear her stories. (I'll probably drive her crazy!) Homeowners took us our for dinner. Mexican. More great food. Note to self: yogurt and salad tomorrow.
Said couple not only fed us, but gave us the use of their cozy apartment (about 45 minutes away from their house). Not two minutes into our stay, I managed to crash the lovely old suitcase stand that was there--you know, the ones that fold up and have three straps to hold the suitcase? Yeah, we'll those three straps are now toast, thanks to the weight of my carry on bag. Oh dear! Homeowners were gracious to a fault when I admitted my...ummm...clumsiness? negligence? stupidity?
After arriving at the apartment, and having been on the road or packing up the house for much of the day, we buckled down to manage our business. (Oh yeah--that!) We finish work around 10:30 PM.
Tuesday evening: crash at the Reno Day's Inn. Clean, quiet and a fridge and microwave in the room. free Wifi. all for $50 a night. I love Reno! We immediately set up Lyssabeth's World Headquarters and worked until 11 PM.
Wednesday: All hell breaks out in the wedding world. Brides decide they must book us. Now. We keep our noses to our respective grindstones in order to get all the contracts done. At noon, we step outside. It is sunny. We are not in Portland anymore, Dorothy. We slather on sunscreen and head for the casinos. Later, Jeremy goes for a walk and Maureen stays at the casino. Maureen loses money. Maureen now hates Reno.
 |
| They took all my money! |
And here it is Wednesday evening and tomorrow we are bound for Salt Lake City, then for Hotchkiss, CO, where we will get to spend some time with wedding officiant extraordinaire Sunshine Knight, show serves our Western Slope couples. Then, on to Denver to visit the kids and squeeze the grandchildren.
So, ummmm...when does the slow life start?
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Buying Stuff Thoughtfully
Let me set the record straight. I am not globally against "stuff". In fact, some stuff is great stuff. Where would the world be without the automobile, dental floss or the Slap Chop? I myself own two of the three. And while I do roll my eyes at excessive consumerism and eschew the annual onslaught of Christmas presents and yes, I won't set foot inside a Walmart, nonetheless, I do have to admit that everyone has a right to determine how much stuff they want cluttering up their lives. If a person's debt-ridden credit cards require them to work 50 hours a week at a job that they hate, then that's their business. If another's raison d'etre is to acquire the best gadgets that money can by (even at the expense of enriching social experiences) then who am I to judge? And it's certainly not my place to comment on the tendency of people in this country to drive rather than walk to the local store for their gallon of fat free milk and a corn syrup-laden snack to tide them over.
Okay, that's crap. I do judge, I do comment and for the love of God, put down that sugar-laden soft drink and go for a walk, why don't ya?
Grouse as I may, everyone wants a certain level of stuff in their lives, and I must come to terms that everyone's definition of minimalism is not the same as mine. Okay, so I'm a work in progress so don't judge. (Apparently, that's my role, anyway.)
The one thing I've discovered in this quest to simplify is how it has changed my own shopping habits (Es tu, Brute? Yes, I shop) and in ways I never expected. I knew I would become more invested in the quality of the products I buy. Therefore, I anticipated that I'd spend more money for certain things. What I didn't realize was just how much time thoughtful buying takes. Holy moly, this could easily become a part-time job!
It all started with backpacks. No, actually it started with the computer. I already have a laptop, but Jeremy's desktop computer was going to have to be replaced by something portable if a mobile (a.k.a. lighter) lifestyle was our goal. Once he did the research (how much time that took, I have no idea) and purchased the computer, we were then confronted with the best way to carry the thing. And then there was my beat up briefcase style laptop bag--fine for the short jaunts of my past life, but wholly unsuitable for the nomadic lifestyle of my not too distant future.
Enter the hunt for the backpacks. For me, it had to be lightweight, be classified as a "personal item" per TSA regulations, have ample padding to protect the computer, have straps that didn't dig into my delicate flesh, and it has to hold a TON of crap. It had to be stylish, last-forever sturdy, easy to clean and a pretty color wouldn't hurt either.
Jeremy's backpack had to exhibit much of the above, but it also had to serve as his "man-purse" that he totes nearly everywhere and since he also actually hikes, the backpack had to fill that role as well. So, ventilation was important.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but it took us over week to find my backpack and Jeremy still doesn't have one. There have been countless trips to REI, the weighing of the pros and cons, hours of online research and the purchasing and subsequent returning of items that didn't make the cut after all. I have ended up with a North Face Overhaul which in spite of its lumberjack-sounding name meets most of my requirements (with its dull brown color, it does not rate a Perfect 10, but everything else is there).
We've learned that when one simplifies, one gets very persnickety and thoughtful about those products that one does buy. And the more purposes one item can serve, the better. Try going up to the shoe salesman at REI and telling him you want a comfortable shoe that serves as sneaker, hiking boot and day shoe. It must look good with pants and skirts and oh by the way, I wear a size 10 1/2 (virtually unheard of in women's shoe sizes). See where that gets ya. Hint: let's just say I walked out without making a shoe purchase.
Jeremy has ended up buying a real man-purse (oh excuse me, I believe the PC term is "day pack"). I liked it so much, I decided to ditch my lady-purse and buy a similar one for myself. And he did pick up a protective computer sleeve for his laptop. So he has the backpack accessories, it's just that he has yet to find the backpack with which he has the perfect first date chemistry.
It's a process that apparently cannot be hurried.
This would be little more than an amusing story if it didn't apply to all of the following that we have either purchased or sought to purchase in the past three weeks:
In the past, my shopping strategy has been more of need it, find it, buy it. I've never been a social shopper. If it was a big ticket item, then I'd do my research and then, without much agonizing, buy the product. But now it feels as though every item is big ticket. It has to be compact, be multi-purpose, be made to last, be environmentally friendly and it really should be made in the USA (although adherence to this last criterion has been difficult).
I guess this is what being a thoughtful consumer means--taking the time to get it right the first time. I'm hoping it will save money, resources and time in the long run as these items shouldn't have to be replaced for a long time. But the initial time investment is astounding! I thought simplifying was supposed to give me more time, not suck it up reading reviews on Amazon, trying on 37 pairs of black pants to get the exact perfect pair, and buying and returning things all over town.
My God! I'm acting like a shopaholic!
Hopefully this phase will be over soon and my "spare time" will be more like I envision: having cocktails in the tiki hut with my husband in the early evening while we toast our good fortune and cast aspersions on those who spend too much time watching TV and shopping.
But for now, (Gulp!) you can find me at the mall.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Okay, that's crap. I do judge, I do comment and for the love of God, put down that sugar-laden soft drink and go for a walk, why don't ya?
Grouse as I may, everyone wants a certain level of stuff in their lives, and I must come to terms that everyone's definition of minimalism is not the same as mine. Okay, so I'm a work in progress so don't judge. (Apparently, that's my role, anyway.)
The one thing I've discovered in this quest to simplify is how it has changed my own shopping habits (Es tu, Brute? Yes, I shop) and in ways I never expected. I knew I would become more invested in the quality of the products I buy. Therefore, I anticipated that I'd spend more money for certain things. What I didn't realize was just how much time thoughtful buying takes. Holy moly, this could easily become a part-time job!
It all started with backpacks. No, actually it started with the computer. I already have a laptop, but Jeremy's desktop computer was going to have to be replaced by something portable if a mobile (a.k.a. lighter) lifestyle was our goal. Once he did the research (how much time that took, I have no idea) and purchased the computer, we were then confronted with the best way to carry the thing. And then there was my beat up briefcase style laptop bag--fine for the short jaunts of my past life, but wholly unsuitable for the nomadic lifestyle of my not too distant future.
Enter the hunt for the backpacks. For me, it had to be lightweight, be classified as a "personal item" per TSA regulations, have ample padding to protect the computer, have straps that didn't dig into my delicate flesh, and it has to hold a TON of crap. It had to be stylish, last-forever sturdy, easy to clean and a pretty color wouldn't hurt either.
Jeremy's backpack had to exhibit much of the above, but it also had to serve as his "man-purse" that he totes nearly everywhere and since he also actually hikes, the backpack had to fill that role as well. So, ventilation was important.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but it took us over week to find my backpack and Jeremy still doesn't have one. There have been countless trips to REI, the weighing of the pros and cons, hours of online research and the purchasing and subsequent returning of items that didn't make the cut after all. I have ended up with a North Face Overhaul which in spite of its lumberjack-sounding name meets most of my requirements (with its dull brown color, it does not rate a Perfect 10, but everything else is there).
We've learned that when one simplifies, one gets very persnickety and thoughtful about those products that one does buy. And the more purposes one item can serve, the better. Try going up to the shoe salesman at REI and telling him you want a comfortable shoe that serves as sneaker, hiking boot and day shoe. It must look good with pants and skirts and oh by the way, I wear a size 10 1/2 (virtually unheard of in women's shoe sizes). See where that gets ya. Hint: let's just say I walked out without making a shoe purchase.
Jeremy has ended up buying a real man-purse (oh excuse me, I believe the PC term is "day pack"). I liked it so much, I decided to ditch my lady-purse and buy a similar one for myself. And he did pick up a protective computer sleeve for his laptop. So he has the backpack accessories, it's just that he has yet to find the backpack with which he has the perfect first date chemistry.
It's a process that apparently cannot be hurried.
This would be little more than an amusing story if it didn't apply to all of the following that we have either purchased or sought to purchase in the past three weeks:
- Hiking boots (Jeremy)
- Tennis shoes (Maureen and Jeremy)
- Cosmetic case (Maureen)
- Plastic TSA-compliant squeeze bottles
- Air mattresses
- Pants (Maureen and Jeremy)
- Jackets (Maureen and Jeremy)
- Suitcases and the assorted paraphernalia that accompanies them to make one's packing life easier
- Plastic storage boxes
- Camera (Jeremy)
- iPhone (Maureen)
- Wallet/passport holder (Maureen)
- Shampoo bars (as an aside--who knew there was such a thing? There is! A bar of shampoo to avoid the whole "flying with liquids in your carry-on" issue)
- A couple of scarves to jazz up my mostly black travel wardrobe (Maureen)
In the past, my shopping strategy has been more of need it, find it, buy it. I've never been a social shopper. If it was a big ticket item, then I'd do my research and then, without much agonizing, buy the product. But now it feels as though every item is big ticket. It has to be compact, be multi-purpose, be made to last, be environmentally friendly and it really should be made in the USA (although adherence to this last criterion has been difficult).
I guess this is what being a thoughtful consumer means--taking the time to get it right the first time. I'm hoping it will save money, resources and time in the long run as these items shouldn't have to be replaced for a long time. But the initial time investment is astounding! I thought simplifying was supposed to give me more time, not suck it up reading reviews on Amazon, trying on 37 pairs of black pants to get the exact perfect pair, and buying and returning things all over town.
My God! I'm acting like a shopaholic!
Hopefully this phase will be over soon and my "spare time" will be more like I envision: having cocktails in the tiki hut with my husband in the early evening while we toast our good fortune and cast aspersions on those who spend too much time watching TV and shopping.
But for now, (Gulp!) you can find me at the mall.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Beige people say the darndest things!
Before I write this, I must confess that I do have a string of bigotry in me toward one segment of the population. Yes, me--the proponent of marriage equality, religious tolerance, equal pay for equal work, color-blindness, live and let live, bleeding heart liberal that I am--I own it. I have a definite bias against the Beige People. BPs (a.k.a. the Vanilla People) are those who blindly follow the herd, never question anything, don't take any kind of a risk and are content to sit in their (usually) oatmeal-colored houses night after night, after putting in a grinding eight hours at the office (in order to pay for the gas for their off-white SUVs), plopped comatose in front of their TV.
Beige People seldom take vacations and when they do, they prefer organized tours where everything is done for them and all the popular tourist spots are on the agenda. Travel off the beaten path and chat with a local? (Don't be ridiculous; those people don't even speak English!) Venture out and try some street food? (Are you kidding me? I'll be up with the trots all night!) BPs never voluntarily act outside of their comfort zone and if a situation is thrust upon them that catapults them out of said comfort zone, they make damn sure they skedaddle back inside the box as soon as humanly possible.
Not sure you're a BP? (Hint, if you have to ask, I regretfully tell you that you probably are.) Use the following as the definitive test:
If you're at a party and you don't know anyone (okay, this is not the best example, as a BP probably wouldn't even GO to a party where they didn't know anyone) and the only topics you can think of to converse on are*
Okay, that disclaimer took longer than I thought it would, but I wanted to forewarn any of my BP readers that they should stop reading if their beige skin can't take the heat of a little ribbing.
I gotta tell ya, BPs have been great for comic relief in this adventure of ours. We met a lot of BPs at our recent moving sale. We also met several kindred spirit rainbow people, but I've already written about them. Here is a peek into one of the more humorous conversations held by Jeremy and me with a typical bargain-lovin', garage-sale hoppin' BP.
BP: "So, you're having a moving sale. Where are you moving to?"
Us: "We're not moving "to" anywhere. We're going to travel exclusively."
BP: "Oh, you have an RV?"
Us: "No. No RV. We're simply going to travel."
BP (looking puzzled): "What do you mean?"
Us: "We mean we're going to hit the road and see the world."
BP (looking relieved): "Ah, so you are going to buy an RV."
Us: "No. No RV. We're simply going to travel."
BP: "How?"
Us: "By car, boat, plane, train, our feet...whatever."
BP: "Travel where?"
Us: "Wherever we want."
BP; "Then what?"
Us: "Then we'll travel some more."
BP (totally flummoxed): "But where will your home be?"
Us: "We won't have one."
BP: "That is ridiculous. Where will you get your mail?"
Us: "We don't get much mail, as we do most things online and we remove ourselves from junk mail lists immediately. Any mail we do get will go to our daughter's home."
BP: "Oh, so you're moving in with your kids." This said with a look of pity as they finally figure out that the reason we must be doing this is because we've fallen on hard times. (Note: it's not and we haven't)
Us: "No, we're not moving in with our kids, although we hope to visit them more often."
BP: "In an RV?"
Us: (sighing): "No. NOT IN A FREAKING RV!"
BP: "So, you're retiring young?"
Us: "No, we'll continue to run our business remotely from the road."
BP: "You don't have a boss?"
Us: "Nope."
BP: (looking envious): "Wow. I wish I had me my own business. I'd like not having a boss. Is that something I could make good money at? Say, by next Monday, so I could give my two week notice?"
Us: "Probably not that fast. We've been building the business for nearly ten years and have worked on making it location-independent for the last two."
BP: "Oh, forget it then. That sounds like too much work and I might have to miss American Idol. So, this travel thing--is this just for a few months?"
Us: "We have no time frame, but we expect it to be much longer than that."
BP: "And then what?"
Us: "And then we might stop traveling."
BP: "So, you're putting most of your furniture in storage in case this doesn't work out?"
Us: "No, we're not that attached to our stuff, so we're getting rid of all but a few mementos. Everything we keep will need to fit in our car."
BP: (bug eyed): "Seriously? Even the TV?"
Us: "Yes, well, getting rid of the TV is no big deal as we only used it about once a week to watch streaming movies anyway."
Awkward pause while BP digests this new bit of crazy talk, trying desperately to think of what to say next to this couple who is obviously two beers short of a six pack.
BP: (brightening): "Hey! Since you're looking for places to travel to, I've got a suggestion."
Us: "Oh?"
BP: "Mexico"
Us: "You've been? What part?"
BP: "Hell, no, not me! We take our annual two week vacation to my wife's cousin's place out at Lake Tippetongwa. Real nice. Great fishin' great eats, great beer. And they have premium cable. But I hear tell that there Port-oh Vayarta is great! They have packages where you don't even have to leave the hotel. Everything is included--your food, your drink, your room, even the nightly entertainment!"
Us: "Errr....Great! Thanks for the tip."
BP: (warming up to us now that we've found common ground): "Yeah, and there's a sale down at Nordstrom's on cruise-wear--50% off! You know, in case you're prone to hop on one of those Royal Caribbean all-inclusives."
Us: (biting the insides of our cheeks until they bleed): "Alrighty then, good to know."
BP: "And if you ever change your minds, I've got an uncle that sells reconditioned RV's. Tell him Chuck sent you. He'll fix you up with a sweet deal. And speaking of deals, how much do you want for your TV? We need a fourth one to put in the guest room?"
*Talking about one of these topics briefly at said hypothetical party is acceptable and does not necessarily make you a BP, as long as the rest of your topics are a bit more creative. However, you will want to be cautious of morphing into a full fledged BP and should be hyper vigilant in this regard.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Beige People seldom take vacations and when they do, they prefer organized tours where everything is done for them and all the popular tourist spots are on the agenda. Travel off the beaten path and chat with a local? (Don't be ridiculous; those people don't even speak English!) Venture out and try some street food? (Are you kidding me? I'll be up with the trots all night!) BPs never voluntarily act outside of their comfort zone and if a situation is thrust upon them that catapults them out of said comfort zone, they make damn sure they skedaddle back inside the box as soon as humanly possible.
Not sure you're a BP? (Hint, if you have to ask, I regretfully tell you that you probably are.) Use the following as the definitive test:
If you're at a party and you don't know anyone (okay, this is not the best example, as a BP probably wouldn't even GO to a party where they didn't know anyone) and the only topics you can think of to converse on are*
- the weather
- your kids/grandkids
- the latest episode of American Idol
- the mall
- the price of gas
Okay, that disclaimer took longer than I thought it would, but I wanted to forewarn any of my BP readers that they should stop reading if their beige skin can't take the heat of a little ribbing.
I gotta tell ya, BPs have been great for comic relief in this adventure of ours. We met a lot of BPs at our recent moving sale. We also met several kindred spirit rainbow people, but I've already written about them. Here is a peek into one of the more humorous conversations held by Jeremy and me with a typical bargain-lovin', garage-sale hoppin' BP.
BP: "So, you're having a moving sale. Where are you moving to?"
Us: "We're not moving "to" anywhere. We're going to travel exclusively."
BP: "Oh, you have an RV?"
Us: "No. No RV. We're simply going to travel."
BP (looking puzzled): "What do you mean?"
Us: "We mean we're going to hit the road and see the world."
BP (looking relieved): "Ah, so you are going to buy an RV."
Us: "No. No RV. We're simply going to travel."
BP: "How?"
Us: "By car, boat, plane, train, our feet...whatever."
BP: "Travel where?"
Us: "Wherever we want."
BP; "Then what?"
Us: "Then we'll travel some more."
BP (totally flummoxed): "But where will your home be?"
Us: "We won't have one."
BP: "That is ridiculous. Where will you get your mail?"
Us: "We don't get much mail, as we do most things online and we remove ourselves from junk mail lists immediately. Any mail we do get will go to our daughter's home."
BP: "Oh, so you're moving in with your kids." This said with a look of pity as they finally figure out that the reason we must be doing this is because we've fallen on hard times. (Note: it's not and we haven't)
Us: "No, we're not moving in with our kids, although we hope to visit them more often."
BP: "In an RV?"
Us: (sighing): "No. NOT IN A FREAKING RV!"
BP: "So, you're retiring young?"
Us: "No, we'll continue to run our business remotely from the road."
BP: "You don't have a boss?"
Us: "Nope."
BP: (looking envious): "Wow. I wish I had me my own business. I'd like not having a boss. Is that something I could make good money at? Say, by next Monday, so I could give my two week notice?"
Us: "Probably not that fast. We've been building the business for nearly ten years and have worked on making it location-independent for the last two."
BP: "Oh, forget it then. That sounds like too much work and I might have to miss American Idol. So, this travel thing--is this just for a few months?"
Us: "We have no time frame, but we expect it to be much longer than that."
BP: "And then what?"
Us: "And then we might stop traveling."
BP: "So, you're putting most of your furniture in storage in case this doesn't work out?"
Us: "No, we're not that attached to our stuff, so we're getting rid of all but a few mementos. Everything we keep will need to fit in our car."
BP: (bug eyed): "Seriously? Even the TV?"
Us: "Yes, well, getting rid of the TV is no big deal as we only used it about once a week to watch streaming movies anyway."
Awkward pause while BP digests this new bit of crazy talk, trying desperately to think of what to say next to this couple who is obviously two beers short of a six pack.
BP: (brightening): "Hey! Since you're looking for places to travel to, I've got a suggestion."
Us: "Oh?"
BP: "Mexico"
Us: "You've been? What part?"
BP: "Hell, no, not me! We take our annual two week vacation to my wife's cousin's place out at Lake Tippetongwa. Real nice. Great fishin' great eats, great beer. And they have premium cable. But I hear tell that there Port-oh Vayarta is great! They have packages where you don't even have to leave the hotel. Everything is included--your food, your drink, your room, even the nightly entertainment!"
Us: "Errr....Great! Thanks for the tip."
BP: (warming up to us now that we've found common ground): "Yeah, and there's a sale down at Nordstrom's on cruise-wear--50% off! You know, in case you're prone to hop on one of those Royal Caribbean all-inclusives."
Us: (biting the insides of our cheeks until they bleed): "Alrighty then, good to know."
BP: "And if you ever change your minds, I've got an uncle that sells reconditioned RV's. Tell him Chuck sent you. He'll fix you up with a sweet deal. And speaking of deals, how much do you want for your TV? We need a fourth one to put in the guest room?"
*Talking about one of these topics briefly at said hypothetical party is acceptable and does not necessarily make you a BP, as long as the rest of your topics are a bit more creative. However, you will want to be cautious of morphing into a full fledged BP and should be hyper vigilant in this regard.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Lightening the (Book) Load
In my last blog post, I mentioned, among other things, that in my about-to-be acquired nomadic lifestyle, I'll have no designated spot to place my library books. My friend, Dixie, (undoubtedly the most avid book lover I know) expressed concern--no--alarm at the fact that a life spent roving would mean that (gasp!) I'd not only have to lighten my book load, but that, without an address, I would not have a library card! Who in their right mind would voluntarily choose a life devoid of literary delights?
Dixie's question was one upon which I'd been reflecting (okay--obsessing) deeply. I, too, love to read, although I am not nearly as much a collector of books as Dixie, whose comfy-cozy home has numerous bookshelves all overflowing with much-loved reads. On my part, my aversion to clutter and my frugal nature generally means that my thirst for literature has been quenched by the library rather than the bookstore. Of course, this means that the books I do (er...did) own were ones that passed the test that catapulted them from borrowing to ownership status and earned the coveted position of permanent placement on my bookshelf. And believe me, a book had to be damn good to be given this honor.
The paring down of my books has been a four step process. Two years ago, when we sold the Victorian, I eliminated many volumes. With this most recent endeavor, on the first run-through, I eliminated about half of what I had. A few days later, I went through the remaining pile of about 15 books. Many of them were business and marketing books, each with a nugget or two that I planned to implement in my wedding officiating business. With a shrug, I finally acknowledged that my business has been steadily growing over the years without utilizing these strategies, and I'm going to be traveling too much to really take the time to implement them anyway. Besides, if I haven't done anything with them by now...So, out they went.
I left myself with three books:
The Pink House--probably an unremarkable story to most, except for the fact that it is the first book I ever experienced being read aloud (to and by my mother when I was about 12 or 13). It instituted in me a love of reading aloud and being read to that continues to this day, I love being read to--especially by someone I love. It allows me to not only delve into the story, but also hear the familiar voice of someone I care about in the process. Someone who reads well aloud is worth their weight in gold.
Whispers of Inspiration--a collection of poems that I refer to often, not only because they are beautiful, but because a contributor is one of my oldest and most beloved friends. I'd forgotten that Bob had inscribed a note to me on the inside cover when he gave it to me years ago. When packing up my books, I spied his familiar left-handed scrawl and it made me smile. Thanking God for the gift of longtime friends, I put the book into the "keep" pile.
The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted and Other Small Acts of Liberation--this one has twofold significance. First of all, any woman who has ever dieted will appreciate the enormity of the sentiment expressed in the title. But more important, the last story in the book, Sin City, has special meaning to me. The story is about a woman who musters the courage to step out of her comfort zone and seek out a new and exciting life. (Sound familiar?) The fictional woman's name in the story is Rita Thompson. That was also my mother's name (minus the "p"). I read the story for the first time (knowing neither the plot nor the main character's name when I began it) the day after my mom's funeral. A message from the Universe? Not an ounce of doubt in the world. That book goes where I go.
And as for my thirst for additional reading material? There are always e-readers and downloadable audiobooks, used bookstores and the borrowing of library cards of others when I am in their neck of the woods. I am not concerned. Also, I tend to read less when I'm exploring new places. And I intend to do lots of exploring!
In a pinch, I can always Skype Dixie and have her read to me!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Dixie's question was one upon which I'd been reflecting (okay--obsessing) deeply. I, too, love to read, although I am not nearly as much a collector of books as Dixie, whose comfy-cozy home has numerous bookshelves all overflowing with much-loved reads. On my part, my aversion to clutter and my frugal nature generally means that my thirst for literature has been quenched by the library rather than the bookstore. Of course, this means that the books I do (er...did) own were ones that passed the test that catapulted them from borrowing to ownership status and earned the coveted position of permanent placement on my bookshelf. And believe me, a book had to be damn good to be given this honor.
The paring down of my books has been a four step process. Two years ago, when we sold the Victorian, I eliminated many volumes. With this most recent endeavor, on the first run-through, I eliminated about half of what I had. A few days later, I went through the remaining pile of about 15 books. Many of them were business and marketing books, each with a nugget or two that I planned to implement in my wedding officiating business. With a shrug, I finally acknowledged that my business has been steadily growing over the years without utilizing these strategies, and I'm going to be traveling too much to really take the time to implement them anyway. Besides, if I haven't done anything with them by now...So, out they went.
I left myself with three books:
The Pink House--probably an unremarkable story to most, except for the fact that it is the first book I ever experienced being read aloud (to and by my mother when I was about 12 or 13). It instituted in me a love of reading aloud and being read to that continues to this day, I love being read to--especially by someone I love. It allows me to not only delve into the story, but also hear the familiar voice of someone I care about in the process. Someone who reads well aloud is worth their weight in gold.
Whispers of Inspiration--a collection of poems that I refer to often, not only because they are beautiful, but because a contributor is one of my oldest and most beloved friends. I'd forgotten that Bob had inscribed a note to me on the inside cover when he gave it to me years ago. When packing up my books, I spied his familiar left-handed scrawl and it made me smile. Thanking God for the gift of longtime friends, I put the book into the "keep" pile.
The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted and Other Small Acts of Liberation--this one has twofold significance. First of all, any woman who has ever dieted will appreciate the enormity of the sentiment expressed in the title. But more important, the last story in the book, Sin City, has special meaning to me. The story is about a woman who musters the courage to step out of her comfort zone and seek out a new and exciting life. (Sound familiar?) The fictional woman's name in the story is Rita Thompson. That was also my mother's name (minus the "p"). I read the story for the first time (knowing neither the plot nor the main character's name when I began it) the day after my mom's funeral. A message from the Universe? Not an ounce of doubt in the world. That book goes where I go.
And as for my thirst for additional reading material? There are always e-readers and downloadable audiobooks, used bookstores and the borrowing of library cards of others when I am in their neck of the woods. I am not concerned. Also, I tend to read less when I'm exploring new places. And I intend to do lots of exploring!
In a pinch, I can always Skype Dixie and have her read to me!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Location Independent Living for the Organizing Freak
One of my favorite questions to the organizational-impaired person as he or she is frantically searching for their keys (remote, cell phone, small child, etc.) is to ask when the last time was that they lost their toothbrush. This usually results in a blank stare, followed by a "Huh?" and a response (subtly implying that I am dumber than a box of rocks for asking) along the lines of, "Well--duh. Never!"
"Why?" I persist. Another blank look. "Because," I point out, "you drop your toothbrush in the same place every time you're finished using it. Be it in the top drawer, the fancy toothbrush holder or the scummed up glass on the side of the sink, your toothbrush has a HOME. That's why you never lose it."
In other words, in my life, the timeless wisdom of a "place for everything and everything in its place" has saved me countless hours of searching, mentally retracing my steps and frustration. Between keeping my stuff to a minimum and having homes for the stuff that I do have, I've managed to set myself up with one sweet little life (mostly) devoid of frantic searching and blaming of my husband when items cannot be found. (Side note: this also contributes much in the marital harmony department for it has been my experience that nearly every time I testily imply that Jeremy has appropriated something of mine, I inevitably discover that it was me who left the item in its AWOL location.)
However, our recent drastic downsizing and our impending launch of our location independent lifestyle has me wondering how I am going to implement a home base for my stuff when there is no home base for me! My designated homes are about to disappear altogether. No hook by the back door for my keys, no bin under said hook for my sunglasses, garage door opener and tissues. No basket for library books to be returned, designated plug to hold the cell phone charger nor magnetic notepad affixed to the fridge door (ditto for the mandatory pen atop the refrigerator to write on said notepad). No top nightstand drawer for my thyroid pills, hook beside my computer upon which to hang my headset, spot by the bathroom sink for my jar of Q-tips. Hell, no jar for the Q-tips in the first place. And my kitchen! Every pot and pan has an assigned spot (God, I love my dish-washing husband, who bemusedly but dutifully puts every pan back where it came from.) I swear I could whip up an entire meal in the dark.
I'm not sure how successful my transition to voluntary homelessness is going to be in this regard. I have developed my travel homes. The hotel room key ALWAYS goes on top of the TV, for example, when I am in the room. That way, I never have to hunt for it, thereby allowing me to get to the hotel lounge that much sooner. So I guess I will simply expand this technique to adopt universal homes for my limited supply of stuff as I land in the various places that are to become my temporary homes.
It's a little intimidating for an uber-organized person like myself. Maybe I'll get one of those huge trench coats with a myriad of inside pockets (like the guys who sell "Rolex" watches on the sidewalks of New York) and put everything in it from my passport to my vitamins to a small mixing bowl and a whisk. Then I can wear it always and have a home for my stuff no matter where I roam. It might make swimming a bit difficult, but I'll make the sacrifice in order to keep my sanity.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
"Why?" I persist. Another blank look. "Because," I point out, "you drop your toothbrush in the same place every time you're finished using it. Be it in the top drawer, the fancy toothbrush holder or the scummed up glass on the side of the sink, your toothbrush has a HOME. That's why you never lose it."
In other words, in my life, the timeless wisdom of a "place for everything and everything in its place" has saved me countless hours of searching, mentally retracing my steps and frustration. Between keeping my stuff to a minimum and having homes for the stuff that I do have, I've managed to set myself up with one sweet little life (mostly) devoid of frantic searching and blaming of my husband when items cannot be found. (Side note: this also contributes much in the marital harmony department for it has been my experience that nearly every time I testily imply that Jeremy has appropriated something of mine, I inevitably discover that it was me who left the item in its AWOL location.)
However, our recent drastic downsizing and our impending launch of our location independent lifestyle has me wondering how I am going to implement a home base for my stuff when there is no home base for me! My designated homes are about to disappear altogether. No hook by the back door for my keys, no bin under said hook for my sunglasses, garage door opener and tissues. No basket for library books to be returned, designated plug to hold the cell phone charger nor magnetic notepad affixed to the fridge door (ditto for the mandatory pen atop the refrigerator to write on said notepad). No top nightstand drawer for my thyroid pills, hook beside my computer upon which to hang my headset, spot by the bathroom sink for my jar of Q-tips. Hell, no jar for the Q-tips in the first place. And my kitchen! Every pot and pan has an assigned spot (God, I love my dish-washing husband, who bemusedly but dutifully puts every pan back where it came from.) I swear I could whip up an entire meal in the dark.
I'm not sure how successful my transition to voluntary homelessness is going to be in this regard. I have developed my travel homes. The hotel room key ALWAYS goes on top of the TV, for example, when I am in the room. That way, I never have to hunt for it, thereby allowing me to get to the hotel lounge that much sooner. So I guess I will simply expand this technique to adopt universal homes for my limited supply of stuff as I land in the various places that are to become my temporary homes.
It's a little intimidating for an uber-organized person like myself. Maybe I'll get one of those huge trench coats with a myriad of inside pockets (like the guys who sell "Rolex" watches on the sidewalks of New York) and put everything in it from my passport to my vitamins to a small mixing bowl and a whisk. Then I can wear it always and have a home for my stuff no matter where I roam. It might make swimming a bit difficult, but I'll make the sacrifice in order to keep my sanity.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Butterflies Everywhere!
Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder... - Henry David Thoreau
I had no idea until just now that the above quote was attributed to Thoreau. I remember it from a poster from my college days--back in the 70s when it was trendy to cover one's walls with such enlightened sayings. These were made even more sage if they were accompanied by a picture of fuzzy kitten, a peace sign or any references to Star Wars.
Something from that college poster taped near my bed must have stuck, for I think of Thoreau's saying often--not only in its relativity to happiness but in regard to so many good things that have come my way while I was "turning my attention to other things." Take for example, the birth of each of my daughters oh so many years ago. Since calling them "accidents" is now shunned as being politically incorrect, just let me say that they showed up as "surprises" when I very much had my attention turned to other things. No harm, no foul and now that they are through the diapers-terrible twos-needing daycare-childhood schlepping to after-school activities-adolescence-college tuition-oh Mom, by the way I'm pregnant phase they're pretty fun to be around. Yep, I'd say they definitely contribute to my happiness on a daily basis.
When Jeremy and I moved to Portland after a few years of here and there and focusing on other goals, one of our aims was to increase our circle of local friends. Facebook, Skype , blogs and occasional visits are awesome. And while no one can take the place of our old friends scattered throughout the world, it would be nice, we reasoned, to have a friend or two in closer proximity with whom to have the occasional glass of vino.
We approached this task ambitiously (in that way we have). We joined one Meetup group, then another. With these groups, we went on tours of Portland, visited museums, went to parties, etc. We friend-dated, we schmoozed, we put ourselves out there. In an effort to get to know our neighbors, we spent hours baking and packaging up mini pound cakes and on New Year's Day, the two of us went door to door to meet and greet and give the gift of sugar and fat.
I gotta tell ya, the results were less than stellar.
It's not that people weren't friendly. They were. It's not like we couldn't engage on some level. We could. But we never found that ideal friend chemistry. There was no one with whom I could see myself sitting on the porch having a cuppa tea (or 12) and jawing the afternoon away, preferably with at least one episode of snorting said tea out of my nose with laughter. Event after event and effort after effort, all we met were people who, at best, fell into the casual acquaintance category.
This was disturbing but not devastating. Jeremy and I generally enjoy each other's company for long stretches of time, so it's not like talking and tea-snorting experiences are totally absent from our lives. And once the Housesitting/Location Independent Lifestyle Adventure manifested itself, we turned our attention to that and the quest to find local peeps fell by the wayside.
Until we had our Best Moving Sale in the World this past weekend, that is. Now really, who would think of a yard sale as being fertile ground for finding friends? Seriously, if I were in the market for a new man, I'd forget about the grocery store, bars and Match.com. No siree Bob. Throw a yard sale and have an interesting story to share accompanied by some good junk to sell. And Bob's yer uncle! (Boy, this Bob guy sure gets around.)
Jeremy and I have connected with the most fascinating people over the past three days. You know when you're talking to someone who is interesting and you realize as you hear yourself speaking to them, that you also sound interesting? And you think, "Wow! this person is so interesting that he/she makes me feel interesting!" And then you think, "Well, Dayum--maybe I AM interesting too! Who knew???"
Yeah, those kinds of people. One guy chatted with us at length on Saturday and then brought his wife back and we chatted at more length on Sunday. We liked her too. We exchanged phone numbers and emails. After they left, Jeremy and laughed over the irony of finding prospective friends just as we are wrapping up our Portland stay. A fluke, we thought...until it happened again.
Sunday afternoon we bumbled onto (or rather, they bumbled onto us) a young couple with whom we clicked immediately. Two hours later, conversations about world travel, minimalism, and Universal good fortune had been had, phone numbers, emails and Facebook info had been exchanged and a bread maker--complete with a hands-on demonstration--had transferred ownership.
Maybe Jeremy and I are destined to have a better quality of long-distance friendships than local ones. That appears to be the direction in which the Universe is guiding us. Judging by the caliber of friends in my long distance arsenal at the moment, we're good with that. These butterflies can rest on our shoulders anytime.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
I had no idea until just now that the above quote was attributed to Thoreau. I remember it from a poster from my college days--back in the 70s when it was trendy to cover one's walls with such enlightened sayings. These were made even more sage if they were accompanied by a picture of fuzzy kitten, a peace sign or any references to Star Wars.
Something from that college poster taped near my bed must have stuck, for I think of Thoreau's saying often--not only in its relativity to happiness but in regard to so many good things that have come my way while I was "turning my attention to other things." Take for example, the birth of each of my daughters oh so many years ago. Since calling them "accidents" is now shunned as being politically incorrect, just let me say that they showed up as "surprises" when I very much had my attention turned to other things. No harm, no foul and now that they are through the diapers-terrible twos-needing daycare-childhood schlepping to after-school activities-adolescence-college tuition-oh Mom, by the way I'm pregnant phase they're pretty fun to be around. Yep, I'd say they definitely contribute to my happiness on a daily basis.
When Jeremy and I moved to Portland after a few years of here and there and focusing on other goals, one of our aims was to increase our circle of local friends. Facebook, Skype , blogs and occasional visits are awesome. And while no one can take the place of our old friends scattered throughout the world, it would be nice, we reasoned, to have a friend or two in closer proximity with whom to have the occasional glass of vino.
We approached this task ambitiously (in that way we have). We joined one Meetup group, then another. With these groups, we went on tours of Portland, visited museums, went to parties, etc. We friend-dated, we schmoozed, we put ourselves out there. In an effort to get to know our neighbors, we spent hours baking and packaging up mini pound cakes and on New Year's Day, the two of us went door to door to meet and greet and give the gift of sugar and fat.
I gotta tell ya, the results were less than stellar.
It's not that people weren't friendly. They were. It's not like we couldn't engage on some level. We could. But we never found that ideal friend chemistry. There was no one with whom I could see myself sitting on the porch having a cuppa tea (or 12) and jawing the afternoon away, preferably with at least one episode of snorting said tea out of my nose with laughter. Event after event and effort after effort, all we met were people who, at best, fell into the casual acquaintance category.
This was disturbing but not devastating. Jeremy and I generally enjoy each other's company for long stretches of time, so it's not like talking and tea-snorting experiences are totally absent from our lives. And once the Housesitting/Location Independent Lifestyle Adventure manifested itself, we turned our attention to that and the quest to find local peeps fell by the wayside.
Until we had our Best Moving Sale in the World this past weekend, that is. Now really, who would think of a yard sale as being fertile ground for finding friends? Seriously, if I were in the market for a new man, I'd forget about the grocery store, bars and Match.com. No siree Bob. Throw a yard sale and have an interesting story to share accompanied by some good junk to sell. And Bob's yer uncle! (Boy, this Bob guy sure gets around.)
Jeremy and I have connected with the most fascinating people over the past three days. You know when you're talking to someone who is interesting and you realize as you hear yourself speaking to them, that you also sound interesting? And you think, "Wow! this person is so interesting that he/she makes me feel interesting!" And then you think, "Well, Dayum--maybe I AM interesting too! Who knew???"
Yeah, those kinds of people. One guy chatted with us at length on Saturday and then brought his wife back and we chatted at more length on Sunday. We liked her too. We exchanged phone numbers and emails. After they left, Jeremy and laughed over the irony of finding prospective friends just as we are wrapping up our Portland stay. A fluke, we thought...until it happened again.
Sunday afternoon we bumbled onto (or rather, they bumbled onto us) a young couple with whom we clicked immediately. Two hours later, conversations about world travel, minimalism, and Universal good fortune had been had, phone numbers, emails and Facebook info had been exchanged and a bread maker--complete with a hands-on demonstration--had transferred ownership.
Maybe Jeremy and I are destined to have a better quality of long-distance friendships than local ones. That appears to be the direction in which the Universe is guiding us. Judging by the caliber of friends in my long distance arsenal at the moment, we're good with that. These butterflies can rest on our shoulders anytime.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Monday, March 7, 2011
And a good time was had by all
It's the morning after. The moving sale dust has settled. All is still. It was an uphill battle for a bit, but after three days of tagging, schlepping, Craig's List updating and yes--merchandising, all is quiet. The hoards of bargain hunters have left, bringing more stuff into their (for the most part) overstuffed homes.
And the house is...eerily still. No clocks tick. There is no sound of a chair scraping the floor. Dishes do not clang together in the kitchen sink. No smell of burning toast emits from the toaster. Netflix movies do not appear on the television. Even the rain has stopped drumming incessantly against the roof. All is quiet.
And in the stillness of the silence, the reader asks, "Why? What is the source of this almost reverential quietude after such boisterous and hectic activity?"
Well, gentle soul, all will be revealed in time. First, close your eyes...breathe in...breathe out...enjoy the silence...revel in the glory of the anticipation. Namaste...
Because...
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
And the house is...eerily still. No clocks tick. There is no sound of a chair scraping the floor. Dishes do not clang together in the kitchen sink. No smell of burning toast emits from the toaster. Netflix movies do not appear on the television. Even the rain has stopped drumming incessantly against the roof. All is quiet.
And in the stillness of the silence, the reader asks, "Why? What is the source of this almost reverential quietude after such boisterous and hectic activity?"
Well, gentle soul, all will be revealed in time. First, close your eyes...breathe in...breathe out...enjoy the silence...revel in the glory of the anticipation. Namaste...
Because...
WE SOLD ALL OUR FREAKING STUFF!!! WOO HOO. HAPPY DANCE!! Oh yeah, yea us. Nice Stupid auction lady said we wouldn't be able to do it on our own. Ha! She underestimated the power of the dynamic duo! Ha ha. We rock!!! We are like the best, the most superlativeness, sumpremo can't-stop-us-so-don't-even-try yard sale gurus on the effin' PLANET!!! We totally freaking rule!!!
Okay, let me compose myself. That felt so good. All this silence was beginning to grate on my type A nerves.
Yes, dear friends. We are down to one new Weber grill, one chair and ottoman, a couple of desks and a handful of boxes of kitchen items. We've got a wad of cash in our pockets and nothing to dust for the foreseeable future. Plus, we feel good knowing our high quality junk (seriously, it was some great stuff) has flowed out from us to others who will make good use of the things and to whom these items will hopefully bring comfort, ease, and maybe even some happiness. Plus, PLUS, we made some new friends in the process--two couples with whom we sat at length and talked and talked. More on them in another post.
The location independent light at the end of the tunnel grows ever closer.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Friday, March 4, 2011
And so the Craig's List madness begins
Whenever I'm faced with a large or quasi-unpleasant task, I ask myself, "Do I have more time or do I have more money?" The answer to that question indicates whether I'll do the task myself (a.k.a. DIY) or hire someone else to do it for me. Usually, the answer to this question is all I need to point me in the right direction.
Usually, but not always. In the endeavor to wrap things up at our Portland house and get outta Dodge by the end of the month, the term "March Madness" has been given a whole new meaning. Jeremy and I are still running our wedding officiating business (brides don't care that we're undertaking an entirely new lifestyle change--as well they shouldn't since they're about to make a pretty significant lifestyle change of their own). So, since that show must go on, we have to squeeze in the rest of our lives--no matter how unmanageable--around that.
Ergo, the answer to the question, "In regard to selling our crap, do we have the time to list everything on Craig's List/Ebay and have an estate sale or do we have more money to give the whole kit 'n kaboodle to an auction house?"
No brainer, thought we. Time is at a premium. Money less so. On Tuesday, I placed a call to the auction house. On Wednesday, the nice auction lady came over. Bear in mind that our house is full of new furniture and other items that we have purchased within the past six months. Our receipts show the new stuff totaling close to $10,000. Throw in the stuff that we already had and I figure we're conservatively looking at about $12,000 worth of some primo booty. We figured we'd settle for an offer of $3,000, and eagerly hoped for something closer to $4,000 from the nice auction lady.
Apparently, I don't know horse manure from shinola when it comes to used furniture values. The nice auction lady offered us $1,250 for our stuff. I thought Jeremy was going to go into anaphylactic shock on the spot. Bad auction lady!
So, after reviving my husband, we decided that maybe we have more time than we thought (or less money than we thought, depending on how you look at it) so we began the process of Craig's List posting. And as usual, this is bringing us into contact with all the interesting, fun, thoughtful and crazy people of the greater Portland area. The first guy that came over spoiled us. He was an absolute sweetheart who ended up walking through the house with us to see what else we had that he might want in addition to the item for which he originally came (which he did buy). We ended up having a great conversation (his wife is expecting a baby and her due date is the same date as my daughter Alyssa's birthday. What are the odds? We're practically soul mates!) and he picked up some tools for a song.
Life was good...until prospective customer #2 blew us off for his appointment, then finally showed up three hours late, asked a bunch of nosey questions and tried to get us to sell him our brand new dining room set for a pittance (after telling us what a POS it was).
Yeah...Jeremy firmly escorted him to the door.
Ya gotta love the world of Craig's. It's such a microcosm of our society. And since Jeremy and I met on CL, we do hold a special place in our hearts for it. And the good news is that we've already sold enough stuff to make the $1,250 that the auction lady would have given us so anything over and above is profit...well...sorta...
If nothing else, dealing with the "public" (as Jeremy often says, always with air quotes) is allowing me to focus on something else (like is the next CL joker that comes through the door going to be an ax murderer?) rather than my ambivalence at getting rid of some of my favorite pieces. No kidding, if Jeremy says, "it's just stuff" one more time, there's going to be a serious accident around here. Last night he dared to refer to my Serta Perfect Sleeper King Sized Royal Comfort extra Firm mattress as STUFF!!! Can you believe it??? The first mattress of my entire adult life that is Goldilocks-just right for me. And he called it "just stuff"!!!
Yeah, all I'm sayin' is, "who's the crazy one now?"
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Usually, but not always. In the endeavor to wrap things up at our Portland house and get outta Dodge by the end of the month, the term "March Madness" has been given a whole new meaning. Jeremy and I are still running our wedding officiating business (brides don't care that we're undertaking an entirely new lifestyle change--as well they shouldn't since they're about to make a pretty significant lifestyle change of their own). So, since that show must go on, we have to squeeze in the rest of our lives--no matter how unmanageable--around that.
Ergo, the answer to the question, "In regard to selling our crap, do we have the time to list everything on Craig's List/Ebay and have an estate sale or do we have more money to give the whole kit 'n kaboodle to an auction house?"
No brainer, thought we. Time is at a premium. Money less so. On Tuesday, I placed a call to the auction house. On Wednesday, the nice auction lady came over. Bear in mind that our house is full of new furniture and other items that we have purchased within the past six months. Our receipts show the new stuff totaling close to $10,000. Throw in the stuff that we already had and I figure we're conservatively looking at about $12,000 worth of some primo booty. We figured we'd settle for an offer of $3,000, and eagerly hoped for something closer to $4,000 from the nice auction lady.
Apparently, I don't know horse manure from shinola when it comes to used furniture values. The nice auction lady offered us $1,250 for our stuff. I thought Jeremy was going to go into anaphylactic shock on the spot. Bad auction lady!
So, after reviving my husband, we decided that maybe we have more time than we thought (or less money than we thought, depending on how you look at it) so we began the process of Craig's List posting. And as usual, this is bringing us into contact with all the interesting, fun, thoughtful and crazy people of the greater Portland area. The first guy that came over spoiled us. He was an absolute sweetheart who ended up walking through the house with us to see what else we had that he might want in addition to the item for which he originally came (which he did buy). We ended up having a great conversation (his wife is expecting a baby and her due date is the same date as my daughter Alyssa's birthday. What are the odds? We're practically soul mates!) and he picked up some tools for a song.
Life was good...until prospective customer #2 blew us off for his appointment, then finally showed up three hours late, asked a bunch of nosey questions and tried to get us to sell him our brand new dining room set for a pittance (after telling us what a POS it was).
Yeah...Jeremy firmly escorted him to the door.
Ya gotta love the world of Craig's. It's such a microcosm of our society. And since Jeremy and I met on CL, we do hold a special place in our hearts for it. And the good news is that we've already sold enough stuff to make the $1,250 that the auction lady would have given us so anything over and above is profit...well...sorta...
If nothing else, dealing with the "public" (as Jeremy often says, always with air quotes) is allowing me to focus on something else (like is the next CL joker that comes through the door going to be an ax murderer?) rather than my ambivalence at getting rid of some of my favorite pieces. No kidding, if Jeremy says, "it's just stuff" one more time, there's going to be a serious accident around here. Last night he dared to refer to my Serta Perfect Sleeper King Sized Royal Comfort extra Firm mattress as STUFF!!! Can you believe it??? The first mattress of my entire adult life that is Goldilocks-just right for me. And he called it "just stuff"!!!
Yeah, all I'm sayin' is, "who's the crazy one now?"
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Pondering uncomfortable feelings and chickens
I've been pondering this quote from Thoreau’s Walden a lot of late:
“It is desirable that a man […] live in all respects so compactly and preparedly that, if an enemy take the town, he can, like the old philosopher, walk out the gate empty-handed without anxiety.” As Jeremy and I ruthlessly dispose of our possessions (Oh my! That sounds so Mother Theresa, sackcloth and ashes-like! Excuse me while I chant ommmmmmmmmmmmm) I must admit there is more than a little anxiety on my part. Feeling said anxiety makes me feel...well..a bit...anxious. Every blog I have ever read about minimalism and location-independent living talks about the feeling of liberation experienced by embracing this lifestyle. Yeah--about that...I'm not feelin' it as of yet. Can anyone tell me when that kicks in?
What I have been experiencing (besides the aforementioned anxiety) are the following:
Dishevelment. Sorry, no time for capricious acts of personal hygiene. I'm too busy sorting piles. Besides, I'm not sure where my hairbrush is anyway. Anything beyond a shower and a toothbrush ain't happenin' Thank God I don't have a wedding to perform until the end of this month. By then, I'll hopefully be able to put my hands on some dress clothes.
Sense of Surrealism. And by that, I don't mean the art form (yeah, like I have time to go to a museum). Everything seems other-worldly, from the time I wake up in my packing crate-strewn bedroom to the minute I extricate myself from the chaos and flop back into bed exhausted. While I am logically very confident in our decision to embrace a no-fixed-address lifestyle, on an emotional level, it can feel
The What If's. I've always been a what-if kind of gal in a positive way. What if I double my wedding bookings by the end of the year? What would life be like if I lost 50 pounds? Imagine finding the right guy--finally. (Come to think of it, all those things came true.) But lately, I find myself filling my head with all kinds of negative what if's surrounding this (supposed) adventure. What happens if the stress of the unknown makes me so snappy (more than a remote possibility) that Jeremy can't stand being around me? My charm and good looks can only take me so far, ya know. And speaking of Jeremy, what if something happens to him while we're overseas in some third world country with crappy medical care and doctors who only take payments in chickens and we don't have a chicken? Then what? What if the whole thing becomes financially prohibitive (the travel--not the medical care with the chickens)? And oh, the horror if I can't get on the Internet to run my business at any given location. What if I can't find a hairdresser that gives me the great cut that I get from Brooks Miller at Honeycomb Salon in Denver? Clearly, there is potential for all types of catastrophic occurrences.
I could go on, but suffice it to say that I am feeling the effects of copious amounts of loose ends at the moment. My head tells me this will get better sooner rather than later.
However, I think that if Thoreau's "enemy" comes to "take my town," I will not leave empty-handed, but will instead grab a live chicken or two as I head out the door. Better safe than sorry.
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
What's wrong with this picture?
Every person in every relationship has certain roles that they fulfill either consciously or unconsciously. These encompass both personality attributes as well as tasks performed. These roles can be a source of comfort. In an ever changing and chaotic world, predictability in one's home can be a good thing.
Or, to put in another way, when my world has been turned on its ear, it's reassuring to know that I can still count on the fact that as long as Jeremy lives and breathes, I will never have to take out the garbage.
Prescribed roles and personal rituals might be the one thing that secures my hold on sanity during this period of dishevelment and upheaval. So, imagine my chagrin as Jeremy has single-handedly decided to change the rules of our marital game over the past few days. In our relationship, my role has always been that of the go-getter. I am the one who concocts the ideas for the life-changing scenarios, then goes balls to the wall to make them happen in record time. While the rest of the world bemoans about how they hate to move, for example, I can categorize, list stuff on Craig's List, box, pack and load faster than you can say "U-Haul." Next!
Jeremy's job is to shake his head in amusement at my ideas for adventure but then ultimately come on board for a good time to be had by all. When the process of bringing the concept into reality begins, I am the fast one, the leaper, the let's-get-it-done-and-relax later person. Jeremy takes a more languorous approach. It's not that he's not into the spirit of things, it's just that he--as does the rest of the world--tends to move a bit slower than my warp speed. It's a problem sometimes. I bite my tongue when he takes a dog's age to get something accomplished. He keeps his lips sealed as I flutter about "in that way I have."
It works for us (most of the time).
In spite of the irritation we sometimes feel with each other's speediness (or lack thereof), it has come to define who we are. We've not only adjusted accordingly, we've learned to embrace our differences. When we are piled into the car and realize we've forgotten the cell phone, it's assumed that it will be me who dashes in to retrieve it. It's just easier than drumming my fingers impatiently on the wheel, while Jeremy maneuvers his 6'3" body out of the car, lumbers into the house, hunts around for the phone, goes to the bathroom, blows his nose, stops to watch an episode of Jeopardy, grabs a snack, reads War and Peace and then eventually emerges without the cell phone. In a fraction of that amount of time, I'd be in, out and halfway to our destination. Conversely, if something needs to be researched before making a decision, then Jeremy is the go-to guy in the relationship. He'll spend days or weeks checking out every resource imaginable and then present a full report, complete with editorial comments.
I am the hare, he is the tortoise and we like it that way.
But, I gotta tell ya, something has gone horribly awry in the normalcy department. The last week has been for me, a daily series of false starts, laments and frustrations, whereas my husband has been Craig's-listing, moving out and eliminating his stuff with a joie de vivre that is usually...well... MY personal style. I, who have been the spokesperson for living a life of simplicity and non-attachment to stuff stood in the kitchen and cried (and I mean that quite literally) over the prospect of having to sell my antique postal-boxes-converted-to-a-storage-bin that I just LOVE. It is I who has picked up items over and over again during the past three days, only to move them to another part of the house to deal with "later." (Note that there is virtually no "later" as estate sale is to be held in three days!)
Jeremy even sold his favorite chair--the ugly one that I hated and he always claimed he'd take to his grave. And now, sweet Jesus in the morning, he's listed all his camera gear on Ebay. WTF!!! There is something very wrong with this picture. When I fake-casually mentioned that his unprecedented zeal is ummm......"different," he responded, "it's just stuff," followed by, "Anything you need at Home Depot? I'm making a quick trip to pick up hang tags for the estate sale."
It's just stuff! Running out the door for a "quick trip?" Who is this alien creature and where did my husband get off to???
My style has been like yesterday's example. I begin going through paper files to see what can be tossed, what can be scanned and what originals need to be kept. After a few minutes, I come across our tax folders. Realizing I should file our 2010 taxes before we hightail it out of here, I flit over to the computer, praying to the tax gods that we won't owe much. My piles of papers litter the floor behind me, but I'll get back to them "later." I work on the taxes, stopping occasionally to deal with a Lyssabeth's issue. About halfway through Schedule C, I recall that I had wanted to make some homemade yogurt, so out to the kitchen went I. Back to the taxes 30 minutes later, stop for lunch, check Facebook (while I eat so it doesn't count), finish taxes, make phone calls to clients, call my son-in-law to ask which Ipod I should buy, call daughter to see if she wants our television set, call other daughter to see if she wants my sewing machine. Lament to both girls about how frustrated I am that I can't get anything accomplished and Jeremy is making me look bad. Get up from chair, trip over pile of papers on the floor.
At least I didn't cry. And I did get the taxes done. And we only owe a couple hundred dollars.
I guess it's good for couples to exchange roles for a while--see how the other half lives, so to speak. I'm not sure what the deeper meaning of all this is, but at least one of us is getting stuff accomplished.
Hmmm...maybe I should call one of my daughters and talk about if for a while...
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Or, to put in another way, when my world has been turned on its ear, it's reassuring to know that I can still count on the fact that as long as Jeremy lives and breathes, I will never have to take out the garbage.
Prescribed roles and personal rituals might be the one thing that secures my hold on sanity during this period of dishevelment and upheaval. So, imagine my chagrin as Jeremy has single-handedly decided to change the rules of our marital game over the past few days. In our relationship, my role has always been that of the go-getter. I am the one who concocts the ideas for the life-changing scenarios, then goes balls to the wall to make them happen in record time. While the rest of the world bemoans about how they hate to move, for example, I can categorize, list stuff on Craig's List, box, pack and load faster than you can say "U-Haul." Next!
Jeremy's job is to shake his head in amusement at my ideas for adventure but then ultimately come on board for a good time to be had by all. When the process of bringing the concept into reality begins, I am the fast one, the leaper, the let's-get-it-done-and-relax later person. Jeremy takes a more languorous approach. It's not that he's not into the spirit of things, it's just that he--as does the rest of the world--tends to move a bit slower than my warp speed. It's a problem sometimes. I bite my tongue when he takes a dog's age to get something accomplished. He keeps his lips sealed as I flutter about "in that way I have."
It works for us (most of the time).
In spite of the irritation we sometimes feel with each other's speediness (or lack thereof), it has come to define who we are. We've not only adjusted accordingly, we've learned to embrace our differences. When we are piled into the car and realize we've forgotten the cell phone, it's assumed that it will be me who dashes in to retrieve it. It's just easier than drumming my fingers impatiently on the wheel, while Jeremy maneuvers his 6'3" body out of the car, lumbers into the house, hunts around for the phone, goes to the bathroom, blows his nose, stops to watch an episode of Jeopardy, grabs a snack, reads War and Peace and then eventually emerges without the cell phone. In a fraction of that amount of time, I'd be in, out and halfway to our destination. Conversely, if something needs to be researched before making a decision, then Jeremy is the go-to guy in the relationship. He'll spend days or weeks checking out every resource imaginable and then present a full report, complete with editorial comments.
I am the hare, he is the tortoise and we like it that way.
 |
| How can I say goodbye? |
Jeremy even sold his favorite chair--the ugly one that I hated and he always claimed he'd take to his grave. And now, sweet Jesus in the morning, he's listed all his camera gear on Ebay. WTF!!! There is something very wrong with this picture. When I fake-casually mentioned that his unprecedented zeal is ummm......"different," he responded, "it's just stuff," followed by, "Anything you need at Home Depot? I'm making a quick trip to pick up hang tags for the estate sale."
It's just stuff! Running out the door for a "quick trip?" Who is this alien creature and where did my husband get off to???
My style has been like yesterday's example. I begin going through paper files to see what can be tossed, what can be scanned and what originals need to be kept. After a few minutes, I come across our tax folders. Realizing I should file our 2010 taxes before we hightail it out of here, I flit over to the computer, praying to the tax gods that we won't owe much. My piles of papers litter the floor behind me, but I'll get back to them "later." I work on the taxes, stopping occasionally to deal with a Lyssabeth's issue. About halfway through Schedule C, I recall that I had wanted to make some homemade yogurt, so out to the kitchen went I. Back to the taxes 30 minutes later, stop for lunch, check Facebook (while I eat so it doesn't count), finish taxes, make phone calls to clients, call my son-in-law to ask which Ipod I should buy, call daughter to see if she wants our television set, call other daughter to see if she wants my sewing machine. Lament to both girls about how frustrated I am that I can't get anything accomplished and Jeremy is making me look bad. Get up from chair, trip over pile of papers on the floor.
At least I didn't cry. And I did get the taxes done. And we only owe a couple hundred dollars.
I guess it's good for couples to exchange roles for a while--see how the other half lives, so to speak. I'm not sure what the deeper meaning of all this is, but at least one of us is getting stuff accomplished.
Hmmm...maybe I should call one of my daughters and talk about if for a while...
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Destuffing--Round Two
I remember the day my personal evolution to a minimalist lifestyle began. It was January 2, 2008. Having established that my theme for the year was to be "simplicity," my plan was to pare down a bit--clean out some drawers, get rid of some unwanted items, go through the boxes in the attic and garage and lighten the load a bit. Since I'm tidy by nature and clutter makes me a little nuts, I didn't see where this theme was going to be more of my life-changing ones. That is, of course, until I entered my walk-in closet on the morning of January 2, 2008.
On that fateful day, I was chagrined to discover that I owned 42 pairs of jeans. Forty two stinkin' pairs of jeans! Ranging in size from 8 (skinny jeans) to 14 (too awful to think about jeans), there they were all neatly folded. Prewashed, boot cut, straight leg, relaxed fit, slim fit, jeans with strategically-placed holes, jeans with razor sharp ironed creases, dress jeans, longer jeans for wearing with heels, shorter length for flats, black jeans, white jeans (I am, if nothing else, an equal-opportunity jean-hoarder) high rise, low rise, 100% cotton jeans, jeans with spandex and yes....I'll own it...jeans with the tags still on them.
Forty two pairs. And the funny thing is--I am not a fashion-slave. I like to look my best, but a Sex in the City wardrobe has never been high on my list of things that define who I am. So how the heck did these 42 pairs of jeans get into my closet? They were folded too neatly for anyone else to have slipped them in there--my signature tri-fold style was written all over them. And since I don't think that my denims were replicating on their own, I can only assume that at some point I had purchased them with my very own hard-earned money.
Talk about an eye opener. By noon I had pared the jeans down to a more respectable number. The exact amount escapes me, but I am guessing that no more than five pairs were stacked on the shelves by the time the task was completed. Then I turned my attention to my shoes, then my purses, then...
...the momentum continued throughout that entire year and beyond. By the end of 2008, Jeremy and I had sold my 2,600 square foot Victorian and most of its contents and moved to a 1,300 square foot furnished rental home on the Oregon coast. It felt wonderfully liberating. After a year there, we rented a 2,000 square foot unfurnished home in Portland. And then we proceeded to fill it with stuff. TV's (on which we only watch movies twice a week), art work, family photos, fluffy bath towels (in coordinating colors--for both bathrooms), books, lamps (so we could see to read the books), end tables (to hold the lamps), a kitchen set (for us) a dining room set (for when the kids came to visit), a king sized bed (which I'm pretty sure extends into two zip codes--I'm thinking about getting some walkie-talkies so Jeremy and I can hear each other better when we're in it) and a queen sized bed (for the guest room--we want the kids to know they're welcome) a trundle bed (for granddaughter Kaydi), new desks (we work from home and deserve nice work spaces), throw rugs, clocks, bedding, candles and their assorted holders, tchotskies, and doodads.
And don't even get me started on the kitchen!
So, yeah, we kinda fell off the simplicity wagon. But it was a gradual fall, culminating in such a cushy landing (no doubt on our humongous king sized mattress) that we hardly noticed. And even with this endless list of stuff, we still have less than the average American Joe. We have one car, we use everything we have, our home is remarkably uncluttered, and our closets are not stuffed to the rafters.
It was in comparing ourselves to the average American Joe where we went wrong. The fact that we have less crap than our neighbors notwithstanding, Jeremy and I began to feel weighed down, stifled and trapped by our load.
In short, we were over-stuffed. Again.
Sigh...
So now it;s time for "De-stuffing, the Sequel." And this will be our final performance. We've given our notice to the landlord, scheduled the estate sale and begun the process of paring ourselves down to whatever will fit in the car. Then we're outta here to travel the world. The task is a daunting one. I'll cover its ups and downs in future posts. But this time, we are being ruthless. It's our Sherman's March to the Sea approach to simplifying.
Changing my mind is no longer an option at this point (not that I am tempted). Last night, after an exhausting day of preparing the garage and all his tools for sale, Jeremy plopped onto the couch and announced that "if we ever settle down in one place again, it had better be my final stopover before I'm planted in the ground because I am never doing this again!"
And the choir to which he was preaching had no objection!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
On that fateful day, I was chagrined to discover that I owned 42 pairs of jeans. Forty two stinkin' pairs of jeans! Ranging in size from 8 (skinny jeans) to 14 (too awful to think about jeans), there they were all neatly folded. Prewashed, boot cut, straight leg, relaxed fit, slim fit, jeans with strategically-placed holes, jeans with razor sharp ironed creases, dress jeans, longer jeans for wearing with heels, shorter length for flats, black jeans, white jeans (I am, if nothing else, an equal-opportunity jean-hoarder) high rise, low rise, 100% cotton jeans, jeans with spandex and yes....I'll own it...jeans with the tags still on them.
Forty two pairs. And the funny thing is--I am not a fashion-slave. I like to look my best, but a Sex in the City wardrobe has never been high on my list of things that define who I am. So how the heck did these 42 pairs of jeans get into my closet? They were folded too neatly for anyone else to have slipped them in there--my signature tri-fold style was written all over them. And since I don't think that my denims were replicating on their own, I can only assume that at some point I had purchased them with my very own hard-earned money.
Talk about an eye opener. By noon I had pared the jeans down to a more respectable number. The exact amount escapes me, but I am guessing that no more than five pairs were stacked on the shelves by the time the task was completed. Then I turned my attention to my shoes, then my purses, then...
...the momentum continued throughout that entire year and beyond. By the end of 2008, Jeremy and I had sold my 2,600 square foot Victorian and most of its contents and moved to a 1,300 square foot furnished rental home on the Oregon coast. It felt wonderfully liberating. After a year there, we rented a 2,000 square foot unfurnished home in Portland. And then we proceeded to fill it with stuff. TV's (on which we only watch movies twice a week), art work, family photos, fluffy bath towels (in coordinating colors--for both bathrooms), books, lamps (so we could see to read the books), end tables (to hold the lamps), a kitchen set (for us) a dining room set (for when the kids came to visit), a king sized bed (which I'm pretty sure extends into two zip codes--I'm thinking about getting some walkie-talkies so Jeremy and I can hear each other better when we're in it) and a queen sized bed (for the guest room--we want the kids to know they're welcome) a trundle bed (for granddaughter Kaydi), new desks (we work from home and deserve nice work spaces), throw rugs, clocks, bedding, candles and their assorted holders, tchotskies, and doodads.
And don't even get me started on the kitchen!
So, yeah, we kinda fell off the simplicity wagon. But it was a gradual fall, culminating in such a cushy landing (no doubt on our humongous king sized mattress) that we hardly noticed. And even with this endless list of stuff, we still have less than the average American Joe. We have one car, we use everything we have, our home is remarkably uncluttered, and our closets are not stuffed to the rafters.
It was in comparing ourselves to the average American Joe where we went wrong. The fact that we have less crap than our neighbors notwithstanding, Jeremy and I began to feel weighed down, stifled and trapped by our load.
In short, we were over-stuffed. Again.
Sigh...
So now it;s time for "De-stuffing, the Sequel." And this will be our final performance. We've given our notice to the landlord, scheduled the estate sale and begun the process of paring ourselves down to whatever will fit in the car. Then we're outta here to travel the world. The task is a daunting one. I'll cover its ups and downs in future posts. But this time, we are being ruthless. It's our Sherman's March to the Sea approach to simplifying.
Changing my mind is no longer an option at this point (not that I am tempted). Last night, after an exhausting day of preparing the garage and all his tools for sale, Jeremy plopped onto the couch and announced that "if we ever settle down in one place again, it had better be my final stopover before I'm planted in the ground because I am never doing this again!"
And the choir to which he was preaching had no objection!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The end of (this) saga
In this past Friday's post, I made mention of the contract issues we were having with our prospective housesit in New Mexico. After going over the contract with a fine tooth comb, only to confirm that I had, indeed, incorporated all of the Homeowner's changes into the agreement, I sent an email asking for clarification on what they thought had been omitted. I began to smell a rodent when 24 hours went by with no response. Hmmmm...could this be the same people who usually responded in under an hour?
Sure enough, a short while later, Jeremy and I received a notably unapologetic email saying that a "family financial problem" was causing them to cancel their trip. That would be the trip that necessitated them having us as housesitters.So, that's the end of that. Methinks they were stalling for time under the guise of debating the contract verbiage when in reality there was some doubt that the trip was to even take place.
So, to mix my metaphors--nothing is etched in stone until the fat lady sings.
We are surprisingly unconcerned about this chain of events, at least as far as our plans go. However, the amount of time we spent dinking around with irrelevant, immaterial contractual minutia, only to have things go nowhere, was disheartening. It's one thing to cater to the whims of others and get something from it; quite different to kowtow and then get unceremoniously dumped without so much as a thank-you-for-your-time.
I'm starting to see the parallels between this and online dating!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Sure enough, a short while later, Jeremy and I received a notably unapologetic email saying that a "family financial problem" was causing them to cancel their trip. That would be the trip that necessitated them having us as housesitters.So, that's the end of that. Methinks they were stalling for time under the guise of debating the contract verbiage when in reality there was some doubt that the trip was to even take place.
So, to mix my metaphors--nothing is etched in stone until the fat lady sings.
We are surprisingly unconcerned about this chain of events, at least as far as our plans go. However, the amount of time we spent dinking around with irrelevant, immaterial contractual minutia, only to have things go nowhere, was disheartening. It's one thing to cater to the whims of others and get something from it; quite different to kowtow and then get unceremoniously dumped without so much as a thank-you-for-your-time.
I'm starting to see the parallels between this and online dating!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Contracting stress
It's been stressful around House Sitting Couple's household the past few days, as evidenced by Jeremy ending up at the bar yesterday morning. I worried only moderately, however, for it was the bakery bar to which he bellied up--not an alcoholic one. As a veteran of the consume-sugar-to-combat-stress war, I did my best (to no avail) to convince him that a chocolate croissant was not the best solution for his angst. Fortunately, he's not overweight and heart disease doesn't run in his family so, yeah, I let that one go.
One source of our stress has been trying to get a contract signed with the couple with whom we'll do our first full-time house sit. Prior housesits have been done on a handshake but since we're now turning pro, we've decided to make things all official-like, with crossed t's and dotted i's etc. Having used and refined the contracts for our wedding officiating business over the years, we figure we know a thing or two about the contractual process. So, where's the stress?
Well, we made the mistake of asking the Homeowners for their input in the contract. What was I thinking? I know better. What I should have done was craft the contract and then sent it to the Homeowners for signature. If they had any dispute with a particular contract term or terms, we would have gladly negotiated and/or edited it. We want the people for whom we sit to be happy and comfortable with us even before we show up on their doorstep. But, as so often happens when their are too many cooks in the kitchen, the changes that came back to us were not at all what we expected. There was little, if any, challenge to our terms, but yet the contract came back with much red ink, suggesting changes that were minute, unnecessary and that made the contract look amateurish and unprofessional (in our humble opinion).
We can't blame these folks--they have been wonderful to work with thus far and we're so looking forward to taking care of their home and dogs. Jeremy and I have been steeped in contract language for years, it's virtually our second language. We shouldn't expect the people for whom we sit to also be skilled in this department. That's our forte, so therefore our job--not theirs.
I've tried valiantly to incorporate the essence of their changes into our contract while still maintaining the integrity of the agreement. We've put a ridiculous amount of time and energy into it and as of this writing and still don't have a signed document. While the assignment is still a go in our eyes, I would still feel better if all parties signed off on it.
Okay, so Lesson #1 learned in the Housesitting Department. Professionals don't ask for input on their contract. Professionals present their terms and then cooperate with any Homeowner objections to said terms to ultimately end up with a written Agreement that is amenable to all parties. Got it!
To be fair, that was only one small source of our stress--and one upon which we can only blame ourselves. But the rest of the story will have to wait for another day.
Now, where did I hide those chocolate cookies...?
Husband and wife Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are professional housesitters caring for homes and pets around the world. Visit their website at www.HouseSittingCouple.com.
One source of our stress has been trying to get a contract signed with the couple with whom we'll do our first full-time house sit. Prior housesits have been done on a handshake but since we're now turning pro, we've decided to make things all official-like, with crossed t's and dotted i's etc. Having used and refined the contracts for our wedding officiating business over the years, we figure we know a thing or two about the contractual process. So, where's the stress?
Well, we made the mistake of asking the Homeowners for their input in the contract. What was I thinking? I know better. What I should have done was craft the contract and then sent it to the Homeowners for signature. If they had any dispute with a particular contract term or terms, we would have gladly negotiated and/or edited it. We want the people for whom we sit to be happy and comfortable with us even before we show up on their doorstep. But, as so often happens when their are too many cooks in the kitchen, the changes that came back to us were not at all what we expected. There was little, if any, challenge to our terms, but yet the contract came back with much red ink, suggesting changes that were minute, unnecessary and that made the contract look amateurish and unprofessional (in our humble opinion).
We can't blame these folks--they have been wonderful to work with thus far and we're so looking forward to taking care of their home and dogs. Jeremy and I have been steeped in contract language for years, it's virtually our second language. We shouldn't expect the people for whom we sit to also be skilled in this department. That's our forte, so therefore our job--not theirs.
I've tried valiantly to incorporate the essence of their changes into our contract while still maintaining the integrity of the agreement. We've put a ridiculous amount of time and energy into it and as of this writing and still don't have a signed document. While the assignment is still a go in our eyes, I would still feel better if all parties signed off on it.
Okay, so Lesson #1 learned in the Housesitting Department. Professionals don't ask for input on their contract. Professionals present their terms and then cooperate with any Homeowner objections to said terms to ultimately end up with a written Agreement that is amenable to all parties. Got it!
To be fair, that was only one small source of our stress--and one upon which we can only blame ourselves. But the rest of the story will have to wait for another day.
Now, where did I hide those chocolate cookies...?
Husband and wife Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are professional housesitters caring for homes and pets around the world. Visit their website at www.HouseSittingCouple.com.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Housesitting Adventure Begins!
It is February 21, 20011. President's Day. I don't know what the President is doing today, but I think it can't be as exciting, tumultuous, scary and invigorating as what Jeremy and I are contemplating. A feuding Congress, an unbalanced federal budget and war in the middle east pale in comparison to the monumental lifestyle change that Jeremy and I are about to undertake.
My tendency toward melodrama notwithstanding, this is a significant lifestyle change and not one that has come about without some heavy weighing of the pros and cons.
Some background
Jeremy and I met--as they say in romance novels--in the autumn of our lives circa 2005. Each of us empty-nesters, we found that we shared a passion for travel, meeting new people and having out of the ordinary experiences. I, for one, have always tried as much as possible to sidestep anything resembling a beige life. Jeremy does not abhor beige as much as I do, although it's still not high on his list. He might, however-- if presented with another marital partner and a different set of circumstances--have inadvertently meandered unnoticed into a beige lifestyle. But that was not Jeremy's lot in life and so, having reconciled himself to the fact that he has coupled himself--for better or for worse--to a woman whose wanderlust appears unquenchable, he has embraced our lifestyle with a vigor and enthusiasm that often outshines my own. It's the stuff that dreams are made of.
But I digress. Our five years together has been filled with happy, albeit restless wandering while we have tried to figure out where we want to permanently land. Because our home based business can be run from anywhere there is a decent Internet connection (we own a wedding officiating business), that gives us a lot of choice. Yeah....that whole choice thing is vastly overrated.
Wanderlust
We got off to a great start. Our first venture into the alternative housing game came with a house swap with a delightful British gentleman in Nerja Spain. Stuart spent six weeks in our snow-capped Victorian home in Denver, CO while we plopped out butts on the shores of the Mediterranean. Two years later, after exploring--and ultimately rejecting--Ecuador and Mexico as alternative places to live, we sold our Denver Victorian along with all of our furniture, and moved to the Oregon coast. Ah...bliss...only five blocks to the ocean in a peacefully quiet small town. We rented a smallish furnished home and settled in. What could be better?
Well, problem was it was a dreadfully quiet small town. Great for visiting for a few months, horribly stifling to live in for any length of time. Still, though, we loved Oregon climate and people so we moved 90 miles down the road to Portland. Ah....bliss... an eco-friendly, bike-lovin' walkable city with interesting architecture, coffee shops and quirky people. We loved it...and we still do...
...except...
You know those stories you hear of couples that go on a vacation and end up loving the place so much that they move there, set down roots and live a stable and happily ever after life? Yeah, well...that's not us. Turns out that as much as we love Portland, staying put in any one place for more than six months at a time makes us antsy. Wanderlust is in our blood, at least for now.
Which Brings Us To Now
We've finally listened to our inner whisper (the one that keeps repeating "no fixed address" over and over) and decided to embrace this part of us as opposed to fighting it. So, we've embarked on a house-sitting and travel adventure. Yep--we're choosing to be happily homeless. Pretty much minimalists to the core, neither Jeremy nor I can see the purpose of keeping and paying for a full time house simply to use it as a stopover place to flop between adventures. It seems wasteful. Plus, it ties us down. Oh great. I realize in typing this that we've become housing commitaphobes. Is there a 12-step program for that?
Alas, over the couple of years since we sold the Victorian, we've amassed yet another houseful of furniture. While our home is certainly not cluttered and we do use everything we own, nonetheless, we're living in a 2,000 square foot, 3-bedroom, 1 family room, 2 office, 1 dining room, 2 bath (you get the picture) home and every room in it is fully furnished. Oh yeah, with brand new (not inexpensive) furniture. Sigh...how did all this stuff find it way into our lives?
Okay, no time for an analysis of the behavior patterns of the modern American Empty Nester. Onward! This blog will journal our story as we progress through our transition and live the life of the happily homeless.
Stay tuned. As Jeremy would say, "This is about to get really interesting!"
My tendency toward melodrama notwithstanding, this is a significant lifestyle change and not one that has come about without some heavy weighing of the pros and cons.
Some background
Jeremy and I met--as they say in romance novels--in the autumn of our lives circa 2005. Each of us empty-nesters, we found that we shared a passion for travel, meeting new people and having out of the ordinary experiences. I, for one, have always tried as much as possible to sidestep anything resembling a beige life. Jeremy does not abhor beige as much as I do, although it's still not high on his list. He might, however-- if presented with another marital partner and a different set of circumstances--have inadvertently meandered unnoticed into a beige lifestyle. But that was not Jeremy's lot in life and so, having reconciled himself to the fact that he has coupled himself--for better or for worse--to a woman whose wanderlust appears unquenchable, he has embraced our lifestyle with a vigor and enthusiasm that often outshines my own. It's the stuff that dreams are made of.
But I digress. Our five years together has been filled with happy, albeit restless wandering while we have tried to figure out where we want to permanently land. Because our home based business can be run from anywhere there is a decent Internet connection (we own a wedding officiating business), that gives us a lot of choice. Yeah....that whole choice thing is vastly overrated.
Wanderlust
We got off to a great start. Our first venture into the alternative housing game came with a house swap with a delightful British gentleman in Nerja Spain. Stuart spent six weeks in our snow-capped Victorian home in Denver, CO while we plopped out butts on the shores of the Mediterranean. Two years later, after exploring--and ultimately rejecting--Ecuador and Mexico as alternative places to live, we sold our Denver Victorian along with all of our furniture, and moved to the Oregon coast. Ah...bliss...only five blocks to the ocean in a peacefully quiet small town. We rented a smallish furnished home and settled in. What could be better?
Well, problem was it was a dreadfully quiet small town. Great for visiting for a few months, horribly stifling to live in for any length of time. Still, though, we loved Oregon climate and people so we moved 90 miles down the road to Portland. Ah....bliss... an eco-friendly, bike-lovin' walkable city with interesting architecture, coffee shops and quirky people. We loved it...and we still do...
...except...
You know those stories you hear of couples that go on a vacation and end up loving the place so much that they move there, set down roots and live a stable and happily ever after life? Yeah, well...that's not us. Turns out that as much as we love Portland, staying put in any one place for more than six months at a time makes us antsy. Wanderlust is in our blood, at least for now.
Which Brings Us To Now
We've finally listened to our inner whisper (the one that keeps repeating "no fixed address" over and over) and decided to embrace this part of us as opposed to fighting it. So, we've embarked on a house-sitting and travel adventure. Yep--we're choosing to be happily homeless. Pretty much minimalists to the core, neither Jeremy nor I can see the purpose of keeping and paying for a full time house simply to use it as a stopover place to flop between adventures. It seems wasteful. Plus, it ties us down. Oh great. I realize in typing this that we've become housing commitaphobes. Is there a 12-step program for that?
Alas, over the couple of years since we sold the Victorian, we've amassed yet another houseful of furniture. While our home is certainly not cluttered and we do use everything we own, nonetheless, we're living in a 2,000 square foot, 3-bedroom, 1 family room, 2 office, 1 dining room, 2 bath (you get the picture) home and every room in it is fully furnished. Oh yeah, with brand new (not inexpensive) furniture. Sigh...how did all this stuff find it way into our lives?
Okay, no time for an analysis of the behavior patterns of the modern American Empty Nester. Onward! This blog will journal our story as we progress through our transition and live the life of the happily homeless.
Stay tuned. As Jeremy would say, "This is about to get really interesting!"
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