Working the dream life for 17+ years.
how we got here by selling our graphics business, and where we’re going on to the next big thing
Sadly, we will not be hearing any more comments from our dear friend Spoonie.
Cause And Effect
by Charles BukowskiThe best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody
would ever want to
get away
from
them
Kris (Spoonie G) Krall
Feb 22, 1961 – April 3, 2008
Our RV road trip takes us to workamping at a resort in Truth or Consequences New Mexico.
Everything happens for a reason. If we hadn’t have gone back to Los Angeles, we never would have learned that our beloved Jerry’s cancer has made another ugly appearance. You can’t tell by looking at him; he’s as playful and spry as ever. We only took him to the vet for a new heartworm medication, but left knowing we had to get him into oncology treatment, fast. So, we hightailed it back here to New Mexico, to visit a wonderful clinic in Santa Fe, the Veterinary Cancer Care clinic.
We always wanted to see Santa Fe, just not under these circumstances. The closest, most cost-effective RV lodging we found was at Cochiti Lake campground, about 30 minutes south. It’s an Army Corps of Engineers lake, and a bargain at $12 a night.
Our trip into the city was quick; just enough to see the vet, walk around the plaza, and get a good feeling about the place. This joke that a local told us, says it all:
Question: Why did the Santa Fe’an cross the road?
Answer: Because she was channeling a chicken.
We haven’t lived the typical office life for nearly a year now, since selling our business.
And I must say, we don’t miss it one bit.
We got a pleasant reminder of running your own business, however, while in Los Angeles.
Friday, we pointed ourselves westward, right into New Orleans (NOLA), where we’ve met up with an old friend from Humboldt, Mr. Gordon Soderberg. As one of the founding members of the Redwood Technology Consortium, Gordon is one of the reasons why we fled San Francisco in ’98 and moved up to the sticks. He was a geek like us, and we figured if he could make a living in the trees, so could we. In 2005, Gordon left Humboldt to join the Veterans For Peace wagon train that was supporting Cindy Sheehan, and found himself in NOLA two days after Katrina, to help with the rescue, cleanup, and now, grassroots rebuilding efforts (because the government hasn’t done crap. More later).
Workcamping on the farm while fulltime RVing in Florida will teach us many lessons about our potential future vocation in agriculture and biodiesel manufacturing
Jim and Rene spend a quiet Halloween in a Virginia State Park campground compared to previous hallowed parties.
Come September, scenes like this put a wide smile on campground owner’s faces.
We have often considered buying a campground when this trip is over. So whenever we can find an owner who has time to chat about what it’s like to run one, we love to listen and hear about what it’s really like. When we arrived at one resort in Maine, it was a quiet weekday, and the owner was happy to share some advice about the realities of running a campground.
Perhaps that’s a good thing. But perhaps the reason we like Vermont so much, is that it reminds us of the last place we called home. After spending ten years in Humboldt County, CA, we were ready for a change. But finding a small town near abundant natural beauty with an open minded population of young creative individuals has been a challenge. Until we visited the Green Mountain State, that is.
RV Life Magazine features profile on young professionals of Live Work Dream and their RV road trip sabbatical.
Team Agreda and their Tripod dog Jerry reach the Atlantic Ocean in Acadia National Park, Maine. Driving over 7,000 miles towing their RV 5th wheel trailer, they have gone from the Pacific to the Atlantic.
We’ve traveled many miles searching for our ideal community. A few times, we thought we might have found it. But . . . The thought of moving into a small town is nice, but few have the diversity that we feel makes life more interesting. We crave the solitude of 40 acres in the sticks, but fear we might go nuts being so isolated. And …
René asked me if I felt any more Candian now. Truth is, I have always felt part Canuck – though my home team would be the Maple Leafs – since I learned my mother was from Toronto and I went to the Snow Festival in Quebec as a child. After all, I am supposedly half French Canadian and half Scottish Irish. And one of my closest, dearest friends hails from Winnipeg eh. But I have to admit it felt good being Canadian at least for a day. Especially since that day happened to be September 11th.
It was actually nice to not be bombarded by the regular American media suspects forcing us to remember in vivid detail the tragic events of 2001, as they have every year for the past six. The only sign whatsoever that it was in fact 9/11 was a group of peaceful demonstrators in downtown Toronto proposing that the World Trade Center tragedy was an inside job. And personally, I was glad the morning paper didn’t carry a full page image of the burning towers that has been burned into my psyche the very day it happened.
Coverage of events at Ground Zero made it to page eighteen of Canada’s national newspaper. The front page was reserved for a 30th anniversary tribute to the beating death of Steven Biko by South African police. I found the story educational, enlightening, and touching. Perhaps it was buried deep in U.S. papers, I don’t know. But I doubt this important reminder of apartheid in the world made the front pages.
I just had to play Peter Gabriel’s “Biko” from Shaking the Tree
We haven’t blogged in a few days because we took some time to trace my roots with a brief trip into Toronto. While we accomplished our mission of finding the church where my parents were married and the cemetery where my grandparents are buried, we also discovered that the trip was far too brief to discover everything we wanted to know about living in Ontario, Canada.
Although we have budgeted for a few hotel nights each month on this trip, our stay at Melford Cottage Bed and Breakfast in Oakville Ontario was the first time we have left the comfort of our trailer since selling our stick house and putting our bedroom furniture in storage over three months ago. While it did feel a bit weird leaving all our possessions in the trailer at Four Mile Creek NY State Park campground to take a little vacation from our “vacation”, Heather Donaldson’s home served as a great base to search for my Mom’s roots around Toronto and gave us a chance to reconsider what the future holds for us once again.
OK class, though I still often feel like the student myself, quite a few folks have been asking questions lately through our fulltime RVer contact form. Here’s the rundown of a few recent e-interviews…