Thursday, October 15, 2009
A little ol' trailer like this...
plus a truck like this...
If you're on Facebook with me, you might have noticed my post this morning about dropping out of "society" and becoming vagabonds for a year or so.
I don't know how serious we are. Dan is desperately unhappy at work. He's been engineering for 10 years now and while he likes what he does, he has only had one job that he really enjoyed - and alas, they were sold and everything changed. There's a kind of hostile takeover bid going on with his current work, a certain somebody there is driving him up the wall, and I think we've both kind of hit that point in our lives when we ask ourselves "This is it? This is all there is?"
It's escapism, to a point. And I have been making a real effort to appreciate the glorious, wonderful life that I was lucky/blessed enough to be born into. I have a home, I'm never hungry, my children are healthy, my husband has a good-paying job, we are not in debt and in fact have a decent safety cushion in the bank. We are very safe and we have always been very safe.
And sometimes safe is very boring, unchallenging, and unfulfilling. Aside from Dan's mission to Washington and my brief 4th-grade stint in SE Arizona, we've never lived anywhere other than southern California. We have never really been risky in any way. In a way, we live in fear - my compulsive terror of poverty, which I somehow must have picked up from my parents' occasional economic disasters during my childhood.
So I think to myself: Why not do this? Why not do something, even if we start out and say it's only for a year? What if we just dedicate 2010 to being together as a family all the time, goofing off and camping and visiting friends and trying new places? We could easily get a truck and a camper or a trailer for less than $10k, possibly a lot less. I finally listed the Suburban for sale. We would sell the furniture (the antique mahogany pieces would probably fetch a few thousand), the other cars, the music, the books, give away anything not worth trying to sell. Stephen, I've already started a kitchenware pile for you.