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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.
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