Tin Can for 6

Starting the first post on a new blog is always a little awkward. Do we dive right into details? Start with an inspiring quote? Give some backstory? I can't decide and have no time to give it any thought so we'll do a little bit of all three.

"Home is where the heart is, home is where the fart is. Come let us fart in the home. There is no art in a fart. Still a fart may not be artless. Let us fart and artless fart in the home."
- Ernest Hemingway

If that very legit, 100% googled quote made you cringe a little, then buckle up for this story about how we came about acquiring a travel trailer.

One thing this pandemic has made me appreciate is our (usual) ability to travel. We have tried to make the most of every location we've lived in and see what we can, while also keeping a nap schedule going for whoever requires it. Thanks to the Army, we have lived in Virginia, Tennessee/Kentucky, South Korea, Pennsylvania, NYC, Minnesota, Louisiana, and now the beautiful PNW. Steve is facing a medical separation from the Army. We had an idea this was coming, but what we did not anticipate was separating during a global pandemic. He was expected to be done at the beginning of summer, but once Coronavirus hit, everything stalled. We don't have any idea when exactly he will be out, but they have guesstimated end of summer or sometime in the fall. You can imagine how helpful this lack of information is in planning our lives post-Army. We can't look for a house til we can apply for jobs and we can't apply for jobs until we know when he will be done with the Army. But as soon as he's done with the Army, we will be booted out of our house on post and will likely be left scrambling to figure everything out last-minute. Enter my brilliant travel plan.

When I first approached Steve about traveling the country for a year in a travel trailer, he said, "I think it might be time you grow up... and be an adult." Well well well, Benjamin Button, how the tables have turned! There is an entire subculture of families who travel full-time, and once we did more research, we realized this was not only an exciting possibility, but perfect for our current life situation. The Army will store our belongings for at least a year, we will have a place to live (albeit a tiny one), and time to figure out where we go next. We don't have to rush into anything.

So now we are caught up on how we got to this point. Let's talk about this travel trailer.

I found it on Facebook Marketplace (which has really been my crutch while my beloved Goodwill is closed during the pandemic).

The previous owners are artists.

They are from the same area of Minnesota that we lived in. (Not a relevant fact, but I still think it's interesting when I meet anyone from rural northwest MN.)

They completely renovated the inside into the cute, homey space that it is now.

They used the travel trailer to see the country with their three kids full-time for a year.

They were also selling their 12-passenger van. We considered towing the trailer with our Suburban, but preliminary research showed that that was not a great idea. (And to be honest, the poor Suburban struggled to tow Steve's car through mountain passes on our move from Louisiana to Washington. Our confidence in the Suburban has been shaken.) Thankfully, we could put enough lipstick on the pig to sell her to an unsuspecting dealership and we were able to purchase both the van and trailer together.

We took the kids up to Seattle to tour the camper and check out the van. So much excitement. We put down a deposit and arranged a date for the next weekend to come back and pick it all up.

Thank goodness for good neighbors that will watch our circus, because we had no space in Steve's car to take them all with us. I also needed to film the previous owner hitch, unhitch, tell us about the water and plumbing, awning, refrigerator, slide-out, etc, and it would have been REALLY HARD to do that with kids running around.

So we get there and Steve has to use the bathroom. Not to brag, but I have like, an iron-clad digestive system, so I suggest he hold it because that's what I would do to avoid an awkward bathroom situation. Except the longer we are going over the ins and outs of the trailer, the more Steve is giving me these crazy eyes that say, I CAN DO THIS NO LONGER, WOMAN. So once we finish up going over the inside, the previous owner and I step outside to go over the awning and Steve says he's going to take a leak real quick. Ok no biggie. We step outside and wait. I make small talk. I realize after inquiring about everyone's favorite location/campsite/animal/color/brand of milk that Steve is no longer just "taking a leak." I go in to check on him. Steve's hand emerges from the tiny bathroom door and he says, "Oh good, you got my text." Huh? What text? I look at my phone.

Oh no. The trailer is completely drained of water and toilet paper. This is the walk of shame to top all walks of shame. I make my way to Steve's car and find the loudest plastic bag of Mickey Mouse Huggies wipes that exists on planet Earth and decide that Steve's prolonged absence, on top of my going in and out of the trailer multiple times, has alerted the owner to something being amiss. I decide to just own up to all of it and not hide it. Honesty is the best and most embarrassing policy, right? "Haha. Sorry. IBS. Sorry. Should be right out."
Steve eventually emerges looking relieved and not the least bit embarrassed (I bear his burdens for him apparently). We continue with the tour and Steve said he apologized while signing paperwork. Fear not, I will rag him endlessly about pooping in a dry camper we did not even own.

We get back to post to pick up the kids and show the camper to our neighbors that watched them. As we open the door and pile inside to take a tour, I realize that absolutely nothing has had a chance to air out and we are all standing in what smells like a giant toilet. Not wanting to relive the day's earlier events, I just keeping looking straight ahead like nothing is weird, I don't smell old poop, check out that oven, yeah the bed lifts up and everything! After making a mental note to bring my neighbor a dessert and gift card and thank you/apology card, we quickly load everyone up and head out to my friend Noel's house. She lives out in the country and graciously agreed to let us store the trailer on their property since there are no storage spaces on post. (Fun fact: I actually met Noel through blogging and met her in person while we were both in Korea!)

Since Apple Maps is actively trying to kill me, we missed her road after it told me we had 600 feet til the turn. We end up doing our first three point turn on a country road and private drive. Naturally the owner of the private drive pulls up and is waiting to turn onto his road as we are doing our first reverse maneuver. I chose to station myself on the side that had mailboxes and ground guide Steve back. Apparently that was the wrong choice, as Steve could not see me and following my voice isn't how you do it. (I am scheduled to receive proper ground guide training before our next outing.) We finally made it to Noel's house and after only 8,000 times backing up and going forward, Steve got the trailer into its temporary resting place. (Think: Austin Powers trying to do a three point turn in that hallway, except it's 40-some feet long and I'm running around and gesturing wildly because I don't know ground guide etiquette.) Thankfully Noel and her husband are super chill and have a travel trailer that they have wrestled into a tight spot many times before, so they were helpful and accommodating and patient beyond belief. After we saw and touched most of her farm animals, she handed me a package of farm fresh eggs from her chickens and we loaded up and headed home in the tank-bus.

So now we wait. And prep as best we can. And bake endless goodies for all the hands that helped us to make this wild and crazy dream a reality.

(Steve has proofread and approved this blog post. He has no shame and will not apologize for his IBS, but will continue to spread awareness via this blog and awkward situations forever and ever amen.)