Category: Life Skills-Creativity-Art

Tests & More Tests

Posted on by cmryan

Over the past several days, I’ve had a variety of medical tests done, mostly to get a baseline for the newly selected primary physician and to see how certain issues compare to tests performed a couple of years ago. The tests have been mostly standard ones for a mature woman (mammogram, bone density, etc.), but one in particular was new… to determine if my hands require surgery for carpal tunnel syndrome. The short answer is “yes.”

The right hand tested severe for carpal tunnel, which would explain the constant electrifying twinges that shoot up to several fingers and the debilitating pain that waves through the base of my thumb when it moves into certain positions. These sensations increased in intensity this year, so I knew it was time for testing. The left hand tested normal, indicating there was no carpal tunnel, although similar bone-depth pain in my left-hand fingers and thumb is likely from arthritis. Two issues with similar symptoms and different treatments.

Based on the type of work I’ve done throughout my life, I knew to expect some type of consequence for my hands. And now the time for treatment is here… although I’ve held it off as long as I could.

I started feeling the above tingling symptoms as I finished up painting walls in our home, three houses ago; then again as we painted and prepped the previous house to move back to Colorado from Oregon; and, finally, to this house, our last-time-we’re-going-to-move “forever” home. I’ve only painted two rooms so far since we bought the place four months ago and am not too anxious to start another. Not quite yet.

Making two interstate moves in less than two years hasn’t been the smartest thing we’ve ever done. It was certainly hard on our bodies. The painting, the packing and unpacking, the lifting and moving items and boxes from house to house and room to room. I could sense my strength was not what it used to be. I learned to compensate for my weak, tingling hands and shaky knees. I still do. However, I can no longer ignore treatments, or more damage will occur. So I start with my hands.

I like my hands. I’m also keenly aware of the value of thumbs. It’s been interesting to discover how much I use my thumbs. Squeezing the toothpaste tube, writing with a pen, holding toilet paper to wipe the butt after using a toilet, putting on clothes, carrying a plate from counter to table (or the dog dishes to the floor), holding a paint brush or embroidery needle, touching the space bar on the keyboard, gripping the steering wheel of a car, and so much more.

I guess the message I want to share, especially for younger folks (my children and grandchildren), is this: Take care of yourself. Enjoy your activities, your work, your creative endeavors, AND be aware of how it impacts your body.

  • Take long hot baths with soothing salts and minerals.
  • Get massages.
  • Develop an exercise program that works for you and do it regularly.
  • Stay strong and flexible.
  • Be sure to sleep, rest, and enjoy your downtime.
  • Schedule medical tests along the way (as you age or when you have questions) so you can monitor your body’s progress or deterioration and make adjustments.
  • Eat healthy foods (the best quality you can afford) so your body can heal itself.
  • Learn moderation in all things.

And if you’re older, like me, it’s never too late to make corrections to bad habits. One thing I’m learning to do is to pace myself in all activities, to moderate what I do. This is especially difficult as I tend to be obsessive about projects I really like; I’ve been known to push myself too hard and too long in order to get something finished. Now, I do shorter sessions and circle around to a variety of activities in any given day. I think it’s called “balance.”

Meanwhile, I’ve been referred to a well-respected hand surgeon and await scheduling options. Once that procedure is behind me, then I’ll see if it’s time to help my knees before they get beyond the point of no return.

While I slowly increase gentle hand and arm stretches, I have decreased my embroidery and beading and sewing projects, although I have several Christmas ideas in mind. I’m getting estimates for someone else to do the front yard landscaping project. I continue to collect paint chip samples for the rooms and cabinets still needing work. I’m creating a list of house repairs to be done by professionals. I’ve acquiesced to having my husband drive the car when we need to go somewhere together. I take breaks from chores more often, too.

My overall pace in life has slowed. Also, I clearly recognize (as does my husband) the value of my physical contributions to our life, both now and what they’ve been in the past. It’s a big transition from full-on human-doing to mostly human-being, but I’m willing to give it a try. I’m sure my body will appreciate it.

Inherited Wisdom

Posted on by cmryan

I recently had the privilege of speaking on the telephone with my eleven-year-old grandson (not twelve, eleven). The conversation ended with me being inspired by him.

Initially, our conversation included clarification that he was calling from his own flip phone; I was invited to call him (almost) anytime. He also explained some of the steps involved in playing a video game he enjoyed, which he was also attempting to play while we talked. The game soon ended, however, and he returned his focus to our conversation.

After getting me caught up on end-of-school dates, planned summer activities, and family happenings (more mine than his), he asked me what I’d been doing recently. I told him about the beaded embroidery project I’d just finished, a raven with wings spread wide against a blue beaded sky border.

I explained that, while I was proud of this bead project, my first such endeavor, I was confused about what I should do with it next. On what type of clothing or utility piece could it be applied? I told him that I thought about applying it to a blue denim jacket, a white denim jacket, a backpack, or a purse.  Or should it be stitched to something else? I wanted it to be on something that wouldn’t need to be washed too frequently as that could loosen the beads or dilute the underlying glue that helped to strengthen the internal structure. And I wanted to wear or use the piece so I could show off the raven beadwork.

He suggested a tote bag, which was definitely a possibility. In fact, I explained how, earlier in the day, I had dissected the bottom of an old and unworn men’s leather coat to create a small tote or book bag, including making a trip to the fabric store to purchase leather sewing needles and heavy-gauge thread, neither of which seemed to work when I tried to sew the pieces into the form of a tote bag. I expressed my frustration about the sewing machine not doing what I wanted and the pain in my hands when I took up needle and thread to do it manually. None of my ideas seemed to work.

He paused in the silence, sensing I had run out of words to say about the situation. Then he said, “Well, grandma, I trust you’ll figure it out.” He turned next to sharing what his dogs were doing around the house… and eventually the conversation came to an end so he could fix himself something to eat.

“I trust you’ll figure it out” is a slightly modified statement of one I used to say years ago (and taught) as part of a parenting program toward raising self-reliant children. Now it was gifted back to me by the son of my daughter on whom I had used this very same technique when she was his age. While it might be an example of turnabout is fair play, I was grateful for his input. Also, I truly felt inspired and empowered to resolve my dilemma, to figure out what to do that would best utilize this artistic creation. By the time I went to sleep that night, I had a plan.

I’m now on the hunt for a women’s black leather jacket. I had one years ago and I loved it. I am due for another, but this time, with some beaded embellishment attached. It’ll be interesting to see what shows up.

Potbelly Love

Posted on by cmryan

About thirty years ago I was gifted with a small, iron, potbelly parlor stove. I learned or heard or came to believe that it was from the 1910 era. It has been a part of my possessions ever since, moving it from house to house… until now.

The stove was discovered in the back yard grasses of an empty house. A house being sold. Abandoned. Destroyed. I don’t remember the details about the house. I wasn’t there. I only know it came into the hands of a friend of mine who passed it along to me when I expressed interest in it.

After taking possession of the parlor stove, I set to work cleaning it up. It was stuffed with debris, burned paper remnants, charred pieces of wood, and a lot of ash. The stove was covered in a reddish-orange rust from top to bottom.

Once the trash was removed, I scrubbed it down to see its true condition. From there I removed the layers of rust with steel wool. Wiped. Sanded again. Cleaned again. Finally, I could apply multiple coats of a fire-proof black paint and restore it to its simple beauty and poised for work.

While I never burned a fire in this little stove, the metal stovepipe protruded from the hole at the back of the stove base. It became only a décor centerpiece. It was a very heavy ornament displayed in a corner of a room, wherever I lived, no matter the house.

A few days ago, during a visit to my home, someone else recognized its beauty. He took a photo of the stove and shared it with his mother. The next day, she and I talked about her interest in it and her desire to fulfill the wishes of her recently deceased husband.

They had been restoring a home of similar age to the stove when her husband had unexpectedly passed away. There was a spot for a potbelly stove in this old house. They had been looking for one for years that would be just the right shape and size. The woman could tell from her son’s texted photo that this was the stove!

After setting an agreeable price with her on the phone, she came by to collect the stove for her hundred-plus-year-old home. The stove would fit right in. It will have a special place in that home for many years as part of a couple’s desire come true.

As my husband and I pack boxes and prepare to return to our beloved Colorado, we’ve “released” many items along the way. It seems the more that’s released, the easier it becomes, no matter the length of time we’ve enjoyed that special something. It was the right time and person to pass along this dear little fire holder.

We are only ever caretakers of the things in this life, whether they be houses, children, jewelry, money, or something else. Our job is to be good stewards of such possessions, knowing some (if not many) will last beyond our lifetime… to be cared for by someone else. We get to enjoy such gifts while we have them. Making a void by releasing items at the right time creates a void that can be filled with something new. I look forward to discovering what’s next. What joyous thing will find its way into my life? Won’t it be interesting to see what shows up!

Embracing Limbo

Posted on by cmryan

In that prolonged empty space, between activities or seasons or marriages or moving houses, I’ve usually been tempted to fill it with numerous means and ways to avoid any sense of boredom. The constant busyness numbs my frustrations or irritation of waiting for people’s assistance or for things to happen, while transitioning from one step to the next. However, as my husband and I now make one final house move, I’ve decided to embrace this period of limbo. Enjoy the calm. Rest the body. Review the plans. Breathe.

This time the move seems easier. We’re returning home to Colorado and a place we’ve lived before. Also, because I’ve moved so often in the past, I know the expectations, most time frames, and various steps before us. I easily anticipate what’s needed and work to eliminate possible obstacles before they arise. I’m confident about my abilities to address and overcome any difficulties. I can present numerous options to facilitate the move, thereby reducing the stress (in my mind) and, hopefully, sharing that sense of calm with my husband, too.

For example, while I’m writing this – in my camper van parked in the driveway, with our dogs by my side to keep them quiet – the house is being inspected for the buyer. My husband is inside to answer any questions. Our realtor is there to assist and be the liaison between us and the buyer’s agent. My job for the next three hours is simply to keep the dogs quiet and out of the house so the inspector can do his job efficiently and without distraction. It also allows me to take a much-needed break from the chaos of endless paperwork, packing boxes, and whatever requirement the next email or phone call brings.

I’ve discovered this limbo period to be extremely enticing and am reconsidering its value. I might let the van be my “satellite office.” In addition to being a space for writing or reading or naps, and taking breaks with the dogs, it could be my mini-retreat spot where the stresses of a busy life are simply put on hold or allowed to slip away.

There is a much different mindset to the practice of embracing the limbo period, rather than resisting or ignoring it. A practice worth developing. A practice filled with gratitude. I’m willing to practice welcoming the space between.

Life On Hold

Posted on by cmryan

It’s well after ten in the morning and I’m still in my pajamas. I’ve made several phone calls, read the news online, scanned social media, and finished my allotment of coffee. My daily “To Do” list is almost done. Now what?

We’re as unpacked as we can be at the moment. Every room has been cleaned. More will be completed this week. Several big pieces of furniture will be moved (with professional help) from the local storage unit into our home in a few days, just before the majority of our possessions arrive early next week. Finally! Then there will be a flurry of unwrapping, unboxing, and reorganizing as things are set into place. Until then, life is in a holding pattern.

I find this space of waiting uncomfortable. The longer the inactivity goes on, the harder it is to step into the maintenance of life. I can find tasks that need to be done; they’re just not the ones I want to do. And the things I want to do require the supplies, files, equipment, or furniture that isn’t here yet. A first-world dilemma, to be sure.

A key part of this “problem” is my addiction to work, to busyness, to needing to feel tangibly productive. It’s important to explore what I’m feeling and to find a means to resolve these outdated ideas in some positive way, especially as my activities in future days and years are meant to lean more toward relaxation and/or creative endeavors. However, right now, it feels skewed toward endless drudgery.

I prefer to think of this period of life as “re-wirement” rather than retirement. I choose to have an active life… creative outlets… community connection through service or business… new and fun experiences… that are balanced with the tasks required to maintain a home and daily living. I also prefer large blocks of time for painting walls, writing, sewing, embroidering with beads, or planned recreational activities… not to jump from one chore to another that only gets repeated tomorrow or the day after or the week after that.

The solution, it appears, is to allow myself to enjoy this period of mostly inactivity and repetitive tasks until the rest of our boxes show up. To give myself the freedom to explore empty hours. It’s harder for me than you might think. Meditation is helpful, but the planning voice is loud and constant. The planning voice wants results! Projects started! Long-term goals achieved! Transformations completed!

I think it’s time I had a chat with that annoying voice. Wish me luck.

My Mother’s Passing

Posted on by cmryan

My mother died two days ago. In the midst of a pandemic and right before Christmas. She was 89. I’m still trying to determine if it’s relief or grief that I feel. Maybe both.

We hadn’t spoken for more than a dozen years. Not because I didn’t try from time to time. I reached out through occasional birthday or holiday cards, sending a gift or two. I didn’t have her phone number or email address, but she had mine.

My mother was a woman full of creativity. A talented artist in many realms. Sewing. Painting. Crafts. Gardening. Home decorating. She was even a trapeze performer one summer as a teenager. I’m grateful to have learned so much from her. To be curious. To explore possibilities. To try and fail and try again.

I also learned what not to do. The physical abuse taught me kindness and compassion. To be a different kind of parent to my children. From her fear of lack, I eventually found there is always enough and more. From the loneliness, self-reliance. From know-it-all bluster, humility. And, especially, that angry silence can wound as easily as violent words.

Granted, I’m still learning, all this and more.

As far as I know, the reason she “disowned” me was based on religious differences. She found out that I had abandoned my childhood religion. Her vengeful, judgmental god no longer fit my philosophy for life. It was no longer the basis for what I believed. However, I am grateful now (as an Interfaith minister) for that parochial education.

It’s been nearly 30 years since I discovered a spiritual path full of Love and Universal Principles and Karmic Law. I tried to explain, during that final phone call with her, that a good deal of what I’d learned to that point was not much different from the Bible teachings she held dear… that we had more in common than we had differences… that if she was willing to be open and talk it through, we could both share our beliefs more deeply and learn from one another… and see the similarities. She refused.

I feel a great sadness that we never got to have that or any other conversation since. However, initiating such conversations is now a key focus of my Interfaith ministerial work. My mother’s influence is still present. Perhaps the silent treatment, begun that day as she hung up the phone, is over.

New Life in Oregon

Posted on by cmryan

When there’s no going back, the only way to go is forward.

After making the decision to move from Colorado to Oregon, and then selling our house as quickly as we did, there was no time for doubt or regret. We had moments of grief about leaving Colorado and those we knew. And now, ten weeks since making the decision and two weeks after arriving to this coastal community, we can reflect on how easily everything has unfolded.  (CLICK HERE FOR MORE ABOUT COOS BAY.)

First we decluttered and put a few things into a storage unit. Then, due to the hot real estate market of 2021, our house was under contract within a few days of listing it. That’s when the packing fun really began. We ended up filling ten U-Haul storage boxes (like pods) to be shipped to a new address when requested. The process provided us with a few box bruises, increased muscle strength, tested our balance, and provided the knowledge to utilize moving tools to make it easier on our bodies. (Think “shoulder dolly” straps.)

On closing (departure) day, I pulled away from our former home in the van, pulling a small cargo trailer (with a few important boxes, suitcases of clothes, and the motorcycle), and Mike followed behind, driving a 22-foot cargo truck with large, heavy furniture that wouldn’t fit into the other ten storage boxes. 

We arrived in Coos Bay after three-and-a-half days of careful, slow driving and no known mishaps.

Along the way we received a call that one of Mike’s siblings had been admitted to hospital with serious pneumonia. As a result of this illness and other eventual complications, she made her transition a few days later. She had just sold her house and was also preparing to leave Colorado for good. That memory will always be a part of our move, too. She will be missed.

Children, grandchildren, friends, and new acquaintances greeted our arrival with smiles and open arms. Family members also had arranged a large storage unit for all our road-weary belongings. Its size was more than adequate for what we brought with us. The other ten storage boxes will be requested once we have a new address.

We stayed at a hotel the first night of our arrival. The next morning, before taking our belongings to the large storage unit, a scary incident occurred involving one of our dogs.

As we were trying to load up once again and get to the storage unit to unload the motorcycle and other items, Casper somehow managed to get free of his leash and took off running through traffic. I tightened my grip on the leash to our smaller dog, lunged to grab the escapee, and fell over the cargo trailer hitch, bruising breast tissue and sternum bone. (Nothing fractured.) Traffic slowed or stopped as Casper made his way through two lanes of traffic on Highway 101 toward the intersection, where he paused to consider his next step.

Mike and I were running down the sidewalk after him, calling his name, and dragging little Zoey in the process. Casper made a right turn into a lumber yard. Then, with the help of lumberyard employees pointing out the direction, Mike managed to corner him between piles of wood. I threw the leash over the fence, and we brought Casper back to the hotel. A dreadful incident had been averted. I’ve been triple-checking the leash clasps ever since. Apparently, double-checking wasn’t enough.

It only took about an hour to unload the moving truck, cargo trailer, and van. Thank goodness I hired professional movers to assist. While one of the straps holding the motorcycle in place had snapped, the bike had managed to stay mostly upright. The surrounding boxes gave it some support. We had more than enough help to get the unloading done in record time. Both the rented cargo trailer and the moving truck were returned to vendors within hours of unloading. Whew!

The next step was to move into the guest room of Mike’s son’s house, retaining a few boxes with day-to-day items until we find our own place. They made space for our stuff in closets and cupboards and refrigerator and shelves. We are grateful to have such a welcoming place to reside while we search for our “forever home” one more time. It’s comforting to be surrounded by people who care about us and are willing to share their home with such generosity.

Almost immediately we had appointments with our realtor to tour home options in person. We had done several virtual tours with them, even placing long-distant offers on potential homes, but nothing had solidified.

However, within a week of arriving, we placed a contract on one that appears to meet all our requirements. It will need some minor repairs, but is practically move-in ready. While the house is much older and smaller than the one we just sold (think 1960’s mid-century modern), it suits this next phase of life as we learn to embrace a more relaxed lifestyle. With the formal inspection already provided by the seller and the appraisal waived, we pray that the closing will occur sooner than currently scheduled… perhaps before the end of 2021. It’s possible… and what a nice Christmas gift that will be (photos coming later).

Meanwhile, we’ve been focusing on moving funds from Colorado to Oregon, updating medical options, staying healthy, and driving around town to get familiar with the area. On one of our driving outings I backed into the steel edge of a low-hanging mall sign and put out one of my van’s rear windows. We also have an appointment with a body shop next week. The sign had no damage whatsoever.

Mike’s car is scheduled to arrive Monday afternoon, thanks to a former neighbor who was willing to drive it West and deliver it to us. Thank you, Alec! It will be easier to drive Mike’s car on these narrow streets than my big van.

With the major tasks complete, we find ourselves sleeping long nights and sitting… a LOT! It’s a good activity for me as my sternum is still a bit sore from the fall on the hitch. And now, each of us has a sore shoulder from yesterday’s COVID booster shots.

I’m finding it easier to meditate and have started reading again (a practice I put aside a few months ago). We’re getting to know our two young grandchildren and reconnect with their parents. We’re exploring decorating ideas for our new home, too. Then, once we take ownership of the property and the ten U-Haul storage boxes arrive with the bulk of our belongings, it’s back to muscle-building, balance-testing, and lots and lots of steps for a few days.

At some point we’ll visit the beach; it’s only about 15 minutes away and vast. The bay waters are just down the hill from here and visible from everywhere in town. The dark clouds of winter have arrived. Evening fog fills the gaps between evergreens on the hillside to the west. The air is moist; winter rain is predicted. It’s a great time to be indoors, writing, sharing this adventure with you.

We made the right decision. The only way to go is forward.

266. 3. 11.

Posted on by cmryan

We have assembled, packed, and loaded into storage crates two hundred and sixty-six boxes so far in this moving process. Each box has been organized and inventoried with care before being placed into a large wooden storage crate for later shipment to our next home.

So many boxes, so many precious items collected over decades of life, are evidence of the Abundance present all around me. I am grateful for what we have… for what we have released… and for the unlimited possibilities before us.

In this process of preparing to move to another state, the energy required to pack, lift, shove, stack, and organize our possessions into five-by-seven-by-seven-foot crates has also allowed me to release several pounds of excess weight. In just the past five days the bathroom scale displays three pounds gone! In nearly three months, more than ten pounds have disappeared.

While I’m not inclined to exercise at this pace for the rest of my life, I am inspired to increase my activity level from what it used to be a few months ago. More walks. More outings. More energy. I’ve also established an eating pattern that appears to fulfill nutritional requirements without being excessive.

Finally, there are now eleven days until we sign the closing papers on our house and move to Oregon. We have loved living in this house; it’s one of the nicest we’ve owned. And while it’s a bit unsettling that we have not yet found another that meets our criteria, we trust it’s out there, waiting for us to discover its merits and make it our last home. I know, I’ve said this at least once before… maybe twice.

What’s different this time is our age. We’re both over 65 and, thankfully, both relatively healthy.  However, doing most of this move ourselves has been difficult both physically and emotionally. I really don’t want to go through this again. Finding the “right” house has become paramount, more logistical than emotional.

Each day provides its own disappointments and successes. Spending so much time together under these stressful circumstances has revealed even more hidden aspects of our relationship to work through. Communication has been raw, direct, healing, fun, and always filled with love. We’ve become physically stronger with all the furniture-lifting and box-dragging. We also enjoy the evening salt baths to rejuvenate and restore our sore muscles. And we keep going. Pacing ourselves. Taking HGTV breaks with hot pads on our lower backs. Taking a walk through Target just to be around other people and away from the boxes. Eating regularly throughout the day; sometimes at home, sometimes at a favorite restaurant. Laughing at the seeming insanity of how we’re being led into this next adventure.

We’ve put offers on a couple of homes already, but they haven’t panned out… so far. Weird obstacles appeared and we knew it wasn’t the right house for us. Our mantras are “This, or something better” and “It only takes one, and what if it’s easy.”

Through it all I have to trust we’re doing the right thing. I don’t feel overly anxious about not having a next address. My ego voice (Naggy Maggie) has been quiet… likely in shock at what we’re doing. I know there’s a house out there, waiting for us to find it. Thus, I do my part every day (several times) by searching realtor.com to check for new listings.

It truly feels like we’re being guided toward something special and that we’ll recognize it as soon as it comes into view. Yes, we get impatient for it to show itself so we can make this move more easily from one house to another. Then we pack another box. Put padding around another piece of furniture. Have another storage crate delivered. Keep moving forward as we do our part of the process.

It’ll be interesting to see what’s waiting for us.

And so, life changes again…

Posted on by cmryan

We have decided to leave Colorado and move to Oregon’s southern coast, specifically the Coos Bay-North Bend peninsula. Coos Bay, Oregon – Wikipedia

stock image – photographer unknown

After two weeks of vigorous packing and decluttering and cleaning, our lovely Grand Junction house goes on the market this weekend. We anticipate and envision a quick sale. Followed by a mountain of boxes prepped and loaded into containers of some sort. Followed by a two-day drive to the Pacific Coast. Followed by a search for our “new” home. Followed by adventures.

While everything seems to be moving quickly right now, this decision came slowly. My husband is a Colorado native; I have lived in this state for most of 40 years. But the seed of this idea to move closer to the ocean was planted in 1997 when we traveled to Sydney, New South Wales, Australia to live. Mike’s job provided us a three-year adventure near the sea. It was life-changing! And the waves never left our hearts. We felt that same pull on our visits to Coos Bay in recent years, especially during our time there last month.

If not now, when? And why Oregon?

Stock images Rocky Mountain Scenery – photographer unknown

The past two years – most of which have been lived in semi-isolation due to the global pandemic – included the deaths of three dear friends. Others close to us have left the area to explore their passions or new horizons. We miss them all. They also inspire us. Life is too short.

Creation’s still small voice for “something more” has gotten louder. We can’t ignore it anymore. We have entered another phase of life. The autumn days of aging. When colors are bursting forth with vibrant energy. New ideas are waiting to be birthed. We must heed the call. No more waiting!

Yes, we have family in Colorado… and Utah… and Alaska… and many other states, including Oregon. That, too, is a big part of the draw for where we’re headed. We have family there, including grandchildren anticipating our arrival and with whom we can share a few years before they, too, are grown and on their own.

Stock images of Oregon coast – photographer unknown

The ocean can’t be moved to Colorado. We look forward to cooler temperatures, a more humid climate, and ocean breezes. We experienced similar weather during Sydney’s winters. We survived the rain and cold and learned to adapt. To rug up. We’ll do the same in Oregon.

While we appreciate the variety of all the retail therapy a larger city provides, we choose not to live in such densely populated areas. Thus, the attraction to a small coastal town. Plus, we’ve made a concerted effort through the last three moves to downsize our possessions to right-size our lives. We’re almost there. Whatever extras we want will be at the end of a leisurely drive inland or can be shipped to our doorstep. Everything we need can be found locally.

Given the pandemic restrictions and cautions… and the technology of social media… you’ll hardly notice we’ve left the state. Our photographs will be different. We look forward to more outside activities, especially near the beaches. We will continue to evolve… to explore… and to love those far and near.

Dry Run. Night Fun: 7 Lessons Learned

Posted on by cmryan

Earlier this week we slept in our converted camping van for the first time… with our two small dogs… in the driveway. Given it was the first time, we decided to stay close to home should anything major go awry. That decision turned out to be a good idea!

We purchased the 2004, semi-converted Chevy van only six weeks ago. I’ve spent four of those weeks tearing out and redesigning the interior to accommodate our foray into part-time #vanlife during our semi-retirement years. The intent is to visit our children and grandchildren. They are now scattered about, living all over the western United States. Because their homes are filled with children, there are no longer any guest rooms for us. A wonderful trade-off!

We had stayed at hotels, but didn’t like the associated costs nor having to board our dogs when we traveled. The van is to become our “hotel room on wheels” so we can visit our family (guesting in their driveways), bring our dogs, stay as suited for everyone’s schedule, and not spend a fortune in the process.

Mosquito screen envelope-style (double layer) with magnets on outside

In our younger days, my husband and I did remote tent camping, car camping, and even trailer camping. However, due to where we live now, an older, reliable, converted camper van seems our best option. It will also be my daily around-town vehicle. The biggest requirement was that it had to fit in the garage. And it does. Just.

After a week of removing what was already in the van, then discussing desirable camping features with my husband, I spent three weeks re-designing the internal layout. I insisted on a “no-build build” idea so everything can be changed if we need the vehicle for something other than camping.

Displaying a few of the lighting options – inside

I did most of the installation, which included sewing, shopping, crafting, arranging, installing, and set-up. I selected everything from a sofa bed to fairy lights to a “Luggable Loo” toilet. My husband provided his input, the money, and muscle, too. We packed everything we might need (and more) for a vacation into the 70 square feet. Still, we decided a test was wise to be sure we didn’t forget anything.

While we had packed the van during the day with snacks, clothes, water, etc., our evening test began well after sunset. That was our first mistake. We did consider that, if something was missing – even though I’d made multiple lists – we could just dash inside the house and collect it.

Lesson 1:  Set up camp in the daylight.

Dog and crate area

After loading up the dogs in their crates and providing them with water, our next task was to connect the long extension cord to an outlet in the garage. Although I had been the one to initially store the cord in the van, my husband was the one to get it out and unwind it. Unfortunately, confusion ensued about how it had been wound to begin with. It was difficult to unwind in the dark driveway. And why were those small bungee cords wrapped around it? We turned on the garage lights to illuminate the cord mess into a workable solution.

Lesson 2: Set up camp in the daylight.

Next, the extension cord was snaked from the garage through an open window into the van to power a surge-suppressor, multi-outlet unit for the computer and monitor (for livestreaming movies). That was the moment we discovered the outlet unit had not yet been stowed. Another trip to the house.

Lesson 3: Test systems completely and keep parts together. Set up camp in the daylight.

Once the electrical cord and outlet unit was turned on, we powered up our computer-related devices. Two small portable fans were already buzzing – one with its own battery and directed at our bed; the other USB-style fan, plugged into an external, fully-charged battery power supply, which gave the dogs a cooling breeze. Both fans – combined with the mosquito-netted, open front door windows – provided adequate air flow throughout the van. It also helped that the temperature was only in the mid-70’s.

Wait! No Wi-Fi? We had assumed we’d be able to connect to our home’s internet account from the driveway. It had worked before when we were parked in the garage, but now, less than 20 feet from our previous test spot, and we had no connection. We tried several times to connect on various devices. No luck. At least we had remembered to bring books and magazines for our nighttime ritual.

Lesson 4: Have internet HotSpot capability – OR – bring reading materials or external DVD/CD drives for movies. Set up camp in the daylight.

Although we had meant to keep the house off-limits for this experiment, that rule had already been broken several times. I ended up walking the dogs through the house (on their leashes) to the backyard for their final pee of the evening. I then marched them back to the van, locking doors and shutting off lights behind me. While I was walking the dogs, my husband shut down the devices and put them away. When the garage door came down, the reality of sleeping in our van in the driveway became really REAL.

Dogs locked in their crates? Check. Van doors locked? Yes. Phones and keys nearby? Of course. Water bottles handy? Indeed. Toilet set-up for late-night routines? Absolutely!

I had earlier given my husband a tour of where all the touch-lights were located and how to use them. The privacy curtain for the toilet area was also in place. All other window coverings insulated us from the outside world.

Lesson 5: Take your time; be methodical. Set up camp in the daylight.

I crawled across the sofa bed to my cozy, corner spot and collapsed into the pillows. As my husband read his paperback crime novel with the aid of a small solar-powered light propped on his chest, my eyes explored the van interior. My mind reviewed all the plans we had discussed and the hot days of working in the garage to achieve this moment. I’m happy with the aesthetic results.

What was disappointing, however, was the sofa bed. So hard! Neither of us slept well after the first hour. We’ll soon add some kind of topper to soften it. The bed is narrow for two people, but we can deal with that. We were both warm without coverings most of the night. Only in the pre-dawn hours did we feel the need for the quilt.

Also during the night, I became keenly aware of the slant of our driveway. While it’s not much of an incline, my body seemed to slide down the mattress toward the street. I repeatedly pulled myself up toward the pillows. Apparently this wasn’t an issue for my snoring husband.

Lesson 6:  Find a level place to park. Set up camp in the daylight.

The 6:10 a.m. alarm was louder in the van than it had ever been in the bedroom. I threw on clothes and made another run to the backyard with the dogs. As I tried to get the dogs back into the van, rabid barking ensued. They were surprised by a neighbor out for her morning walk… across the street. Their  loud vocal response made clear their feelings about such an intrusion in their corner of the neighborhood.

The kitchen area after morning coffee

Thanks to the handy electrical cord and outlet unit, we heated the water in the electric kettle and enjoyed pour-over coffee. The ice in the small cooler chest chilled the coffee creamers loaded up the night before. Strong coffee never tasted so good. While there was enough hot water to make oatmeal, we decided on having breakfast later after we “got home.”

Our overnight test proved to be a success. We survived! My husband retracted the electrical cord from the window. We both shared in storing it in a new way. I hopped into the driver’s seat to move the van back into its place in the garage. Once the garage door was secure, we released the hounds, cleaned up the van, and fixed a welcome hot breakfast.

Lesson 7:  Be flexible. Plan for what you can. Enjoy the adventure. And set up camp in the daylight.

Morning wake-up after first night in van

Our future excursions will be more than 20 feet from our back door. We’re excited, but nervous, to “get on the road.” We’ve never had a vacation without a timeframe or urgency to return. It’ll be interesting to see how Life shows up in our journeys.