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*

1. the weather
2. your kids/grandkids
3. the latest episode of American Idol
4. the mall
5. the price of gas

I hate to break it to you, but you are a dyed in the wool Beige Person. It's okay, like many maligned segments of the population, BPs like to hang out with other BPs so you will always find a kindred spirit. You will not die alone in your taupe house. You will have an ecru spouse and maybe some tan children to comfort you in your beige golden years.

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.

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.