The One Where I Pack My Books

I felt like a mom sending her children off to camp for the summer. Like, I knew life would be a little less stressful without them here, but also, I would miss them. I’m talking about my books.

We drove down to Texas the first week of July to take the camper and as much stuff as we could pack into it, which included all of my books and art.

And just like a mom naturally goes to check on her kids or give them a quick hug, I’ve started to get up countless times to grab a book from the shelf for a quick reference only to remember they’re not here.

When we first started exploring Kendall’s new job opportunity, we thought I’d be traveling with him full time. Now, it looks like I may only travel with him part time or just sometimes, and I don’t know, I think I might be kind of glad about that since my books wouldn’t be able to travel with me.

A writer needs her books. I feel lost without them.

I’m supposed to be on a book buying ban until we get to Texas, and I’ve been mostly good. I’ve managed to buy only four books in the last month: three for a couple of projects I’m working on and another one called 7-Ingredient Mediterranean that was on the Costco book table. I have a thing for Mediterranean cookbooks and food and also for the Costco book table. It gets me every time. To be honest with you, I’m just proud of myself for all the books I haven’t bought.

One of our neighbors told us about some of their neighbors, a couple of college guys who didn’t have any furniture in their apartment until our neighbors helped them get some and introduced them to the thrift store. I feel like those college kids right now. Our mattress and lamps are on the floor, our clothes are in cardboard boxes, we have camp chairs set up in the living room, and we’re eating off paper plates.

I miss our bed, I miss our sofa, and I miss eating off real plates, but mostly, I miss my books and art. Life feels a little bleak and boring without them.

I can’t wait to get to Texas and have my books back and my book ban lifted, although Kendall might just take me on the road full time to save his bank account.

The One Where We Buy a Motor Home

I definitely did not have living in an RV on my bingo card for this year or for my life ever really. But sometime in the last 2-3 years we decided that we would eventually move back to Texas — something I also didn’t have on my life bingo card. And sometime early this year, we decided that moving back sooner made more sense than later.

That’s how I found myself following Kendall as he drove our new-to-us motor home and the jeep that came with it down the highway and back to the apartment. My job was to follow him and let him know if the Jeep came unattached or if smoke starting billowing out from somewhere. (I love how he always imagines and plans for the absolute worst, and I’m also grateful that it almost never happens, but I know that if it does, he’s already solved the problem 10 different ways. Me, I’m more of a figure it out as you go kind of person.)

“I can’t believe we own a motor home.” He said after he parked it.

“I can’t either.”

We both laughed. It all just seems so crazy.

And speaking of crazy, not only are we moving back to Texas and living in a motor home, but we’re parking it within a few hundred feet of my parents front door. Love you, Mom and Dad, but definitely didn’t have moving back home with the parents on my life bingo card.

I can’t decide it I’m excited or scared. And that goes for all three things — moving back to Texas, living in an RV, and being so close to the folks.

The main reason we decided to move back to Texas was so that we could be closer to family. I just don’t think we originally planned on being so close, ya know?

Anyways, Kendall got a new job, which will have him traveling all over Texas, which is partly why we decided to buy and move into an RV. I might get to travel with him. We’re gonna trial it for a year and see how it goes.

If I’m traveling with him a lot then, heck, it might just be our home for awhile. If it turns out, I stay home more than I go, than we might build a little cottage. It will also be a few hundred feet from the parents front door.

I’ve thrown out my bingo card. Life has gone nothing like I’d hoped or planned, and I’m mostly okay with that.

Sometimes it can be more exciting and fun when you figure it out as you go.

What I can tell you is that I all I can think about is how I’m going to redecorate the RV, the future floor plan and style of our someday cottage, and how I’m gonna go full on granny gardener mode and transform my parents yard and make up for not having one for most of our married life.

Yeah, I’m a little nervous, but mostly I think I’m excited. The one thing I haven’t taken off my bingo card is fun, and I think this is gonna be fun.

June 13, 2025 The One Where I'm a Hippopotamus

“I look like a hippopotamus.”

“You do not look like a hippopotamus!” He laughed.

He caught me sitting down in the vintage green chair in our bedroom after I’d tried on a pretty crop top that I’d grabbed on my way to check out at the store yesterday. I’d tried it on with multiple pairs of high rise shorts and pants trying to get it to work because the color is the perfect shade of red for me and it’s 100% linen making it perfect for summer.

“Yes I do! I have a little head, a big belly, and a flat butt.”

“You do not!”

“And I have a big mouth that I swallow people whole with.”

“You do not look like a hippopotamus.” He laughed.

But it was that laugh, you know, when someone is trying to be nice and deny your point, but you’ve just painted a picture so clearly for them they can’t not see it now. It was that kind of laugh. I’m not offended. I’m the one who painted the picture, and I stand by it.

But I’m also not sure if he was laughing because he realized, “Oh my goodness she kind of does look like a hippopotamus.” Or because he knows (from personal experience) if someone bothers me too much or pushes me too far, I will open my mouth and swallow them whole so to speak or that secretly (but not so secretly) he agreed with both

In my husband’s defense, he tells me I’m beautiful almost every day, and I tell him he’s a liar.

We women. We’re brutal to ourselves and to our husbands. Bless us and bless them. And bless the hippopotamuses.

June 12, 2025 The One Where I Shop for Clothes

There’s nothing like shopping for clothes that makes me realize that at almost 40 years old, I still don’t know who I am or what I like. Today I went into a store looking for a cute calendar and found myself trying on shoes and shuffling through clothes racks instead.

After trying on a few items, I spent way too long walking around the store dodging the same lady who always seemed to be going the opposite direction of me down the very narrow aisles as I debated on whether I should keep them or put them back.

“Are these clothes really me or do I just think they’re pretty because I see pretty people wearing similar items on Instagram?” I kept asking myself as I’d stop to hold up the items for the fiftieth time only to see that dadgum lady coming at me again. How was I supposed to answer that question when this woman wouldn’t let me stop long enough to think?

This decision paralysis when buying clothes isn’t a new thing for me. I have to remind myself that buying clothes is not like having a kid. One you can take back, the other you can’t. But the way my mind works, you’d think they were the same, and I either walk out of the store with nothing or I walk out with everything.

My diversion from my original quest to find a calendar wasn’t exactly random or a whim. I decided recently that I wanted to revamp my wardrobe and find my style, and since I was already in the store, it only made since to look around. My clothes are very basic and boring, and that annoys me. I don’t like basic and boring. Our modern world is basic and boring, and I hate it. All of our houses look the same. All of our buildings are ugly. And all of our clothes are bland, basic, and boring.

There’s a very popular brand that shall remain unnamed and whenever I see their clothes I always think that if the government had to dress us, this brand is exactly how I picture they would do it: solid, dull colors, boxy and shapeless. And honestly, that could be said of most brands. Beautiful things feel like a relic of the past that in our world of fast fashion we don’t have time or money for.

Well, I’m over it. Someday, I’ll tell you about my grandmother who wore whatever she wanted and didn’t worry about what other people thought. Let’s just say she wasn’t known for her subtlety, and I think she was happier for it. I want to be like her. I want to wear bold, beautiful, and fun clothes. Clothes that make me feel a certain way.

And there it is. As I spent way too long this afternoon thinking through my first world clothing dilemma, I found at least part of the answer in that word “feel.”

Clothes make us feel a certain way. It’s why we change our outfits so many times when deciding what to wear. I realized the question I needed to ask myself wasn’t “Is this me?” But “Does this make me feel the way I want to feel?” I feel that it’s an easier question to answer than whether something is me or not.

And whether we like it or not, clothes make people feel a certain way about us, to perceive or treat us in certain ways. It may or may not be fair but it is what it is so do these clothes give people the perception I want them to have about me, my vibe so to speak?

And finally, I had an epiphany when it came to “my style” as I moved around our little apartment. For me, it’s easier to dress my home than it is to dress myself. I’ve never been married to one particular style or genre. For me the joy and beauty is in combining and mixing things up. “Why can’t it be that way with my clothes?” I thought. I don’t have to commit to a style. I can just have fun, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. Now, if that lady can just find another store to shop at, that’d be great.

June 10, 2025 The One Where I "Relax"

“I hope you can relax today.” He said as he kissed me goodbye

“I plan to.” I replied and meant it.

And I did relax — at least while I ate my yogurt bowl and drank my coffee.

But sometimes little duties are like little children. They clamor at you until you can no longer ignore them.

The dog food I started yesterday needed to be finished and mixed. The yogurt I started yesterday needed to be strained. Fruit needed to be juiced so that we have fridge space. Coffee needed to be ground. Food needed to be prepped for lunches and dinners. My starter needed to be fed. Laundry needed to be finished. Dishes needed to be done. And let’s not forget the dogs. They must have their long walk. So I got up and got busy.

After completing most of those things, I sat down to take a break and talk myself into writing when a message from Brandon, our UPS guy, popped up on my phone. I hope you have a UPS guy like Brandon.

Sometimes when we have a lot of packages come in for the business or he can’t put them in the locker system because it’s broken or there’s no room, he lets us know so that we can go get them so they don’t get stolen. Most people are decent here at the apartments and only take their own, but every once in awhile, someone decides to be a loser and grab what isn’t theirs.You never get it back and they never get caught even though there’s video because like most of the people currently rioting in LA, they make sure you can’t see their face.

I got up from my two second break to pick up and deliver the packages to the garage, a little relieved to get out of writing a little bit longer.

I love writing, and I want to be a writer, but sitting down to write is one of the hardest things for me to do. Isn’t it funny how we humans will put off becoming or doing the very thing we want to become or do?

Anyways, talk later. Gotta go finish the laundry.