Dispatches from a Winnebago

The Bad-As(s)tro Van Ain't Perfect

2012-02-18T18:23:00.000-05:00

The Astro Van has been our dramatically humble abode for a month and a half now. Overall, the living is fairly easy. Pete's commute to work is practically non-existent. We bash our heads into things with increasingly less frequency every day. We've maintained a fairly steady and efficient routine in which I go lolly-gag all day while Pete works his butt off. And I feel like a gangsta when I drive the thing.

But this 17-year-old former shop-van sure does have its fair share of quirks. Here's an abbreviated list of our annoyances:

1. The radio resets itself every time the keys are removed. Presets aren't saved and when the van is started, the radio is tuned to AM 1400, a fuzzy Chinese-language station.

2. The windshield wipers conveniently don't work when it's raining. We assume there's a leak somewhere that shorts out the wire when it rains, but we don't really feel like fixing it. And besides, we're pretty experienced when it comes to broken wipers.

3. The left blinker does not turn off automatically after turning left. Apologies to the folks behind me who are consistently anticipating the arrival of my destination on the left.

4. The heater only works intermittently. Either it won't work at all or it will blast for three seconds, turn off and two minutes later, blast for another three seconds. When it's most needed (like for our morning defrost), it definitely won't work.

5. Shifting too quickly from park to drive will cause the van to jerk forward with some mean intensity. It's kind of awkward and probably horrible on the transmission.

6. The passenger-side window is a pain in the ass to roll down. It often gets stuck at the top, but not always.

7. The speedometer is 8 mph fast. This leads to an obnoxious amount of math, but also means that the odometer reads more miles than the engine actually has.

8. There is a serious lack of plumbing.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2012-02-14T12:20:00.000-05:00

Grab that special someone and give 'em a good nibble!

On tonight's agenda: cheap wine and cuddle time in the Astro Van! Yee haw!

Squeezin' Grapefruits

2012-02-09T18:23:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend, Pete and I got together with our buddy, Jeremy (also Pete's coworker), for a lovely feast of waffles. Jeremy was a gracious host, allowing us to drench our waffles in delicious maple syrup from his hometown in Vermont. We filled our bellies and admired the adorable house Jeremy is staying in, owned by a lovely older couple.

Upon recognition of the beautiful weather, we fled outside to soak up the sunshine. It didn't take long for Pete to look up and start fawning over the massive grapefruit tree that shaded us. Within moments, he was climbing the tree and throwing grapefruit after grapefruit towards us.

Pete in a flexible tree stance.

Jeremy catching grapefruits from the net.

Some of the grapefruits didn't make it, gaining too much momentum on the net above our heads and crashing to the ground in a juicy explosion. But being that the grapefruit tree hadn't been picked or maintained in, oh, say, a decade, there were plenty more to choose from.

Our citrus harvest was massive and we were ready to dig in.

We each sampled a slice- rather bitter but super juicy! It was definitely time to break out the juicer and get to squeezing!

After all the initial legwork performed by the boys, I was jazzed to get juicing. Immediately, I felt the presence of a small cut on my thumb that I was previously unaware of. Citrus!

While I was busy juicing, Jeremy kept my supply stocked by cutting all the grapefruits in half. Pete was drinking beer.

By the end of the juicing efforts, we hadn't even gotten through half of the grapefruit pile. But we had two and a half containers full of juice. And I had some very pulpy hands.

Upon Pete's request, we decided to keep the pulp, hoping to extract even more juice from it. Utilizing a technique similar to that of a winemaker, we placed our grapefruit pulp onto a taught piece of thin fabric secured over a mixing bowl, hoping its juices would sift through to the bowl.

Our results were minuscule. Maybe a half a cup more juice? Perhaps we were impatient. Pete's waited for days to fully extract juice from a grape mash for wine. We gave the grapefruit pulp about 25 minutes.

All in all, however, our grapefruit juicing party was a delightful success and our final product was a tasty and refreshing treat on a beautiful February afternoon.

But you have to be careful with grapefruit juice: If you drink too much, you'll be running to the bathroom in no time. Unless, of course, you're interested in a "cleanse diet."

Vancation: San Rafael & Sonoma

2012-02-07T11:37:00.001-05:00

Early last week, Pete and a few coworkers ventured to the North Bay for a two-day ~~race car extravaganza~~ work trip. I tagged along in the Astro Van (being that it was Pete's only mode of transportation and my only means of slumber), utilizing my plentiful free time to explore the beautiful area.

On the first day, after I dropped Pete off at ~~the race track~~ work, I traveled to the Marin County Civic Center in San Rafael, which was not only Frank Lloyd Wright's last commission but also a filming location for George Lucas' THX 1138.

I spent a good chunk of time perusing the first-floor "museum," which serves to provide a history of the center's architecture and construction. Frank Lloyd Wright's only government facility, the Civic Center exquisitely illustrates the kinship between building and landscape.

This design philosophy, which Wright coined organic architecture, is prominently displayed throughout the Administration and Hall of Justice buildings, where Wright incorporates a plethora of atria (that's the plural of 'atrium' for those who need to brush up on their Latin), indoor greenery, a blue roof that blends into the sky and simple building materials.

In reference to the harmonious environmental planning of this eventual national- and state-designated historic landmark, Wright states,

We know that the good building is not the one that hurts the landscape, but is one that makes the landscape more beautiful than it was before that building was built. In Marin County you have one of the most beautiful landscapes I have seen, and I am proud to make the buildings of the County characteristic of the beauty of the County.

After my make-shift history lesson, I made my way to the top floors, taking a quick pit stop in the cafeteria for a cup of tea. The view wasn't half bad...

Circle themed

I drank my tea at a snail's pace, admiring the view, keeping in mind that I had nowhere to be for hours. Little did I know that even more brilliance awaited me. I refilled on hot water and made my way to the fourth floor, where I found a door leading outside.

Sweet! A patio!

With every intention to sit at that table for the next hour, I wisely decided to snoop around first, noting the lush landscape that surrounded me.

Around the corner, I spotted a trail, which led me to a magnificent set of stone steps. Up I went.

And the view took my breath away! Not only was it a perfect 65 degrees on the last day on January, but there was no other human in sight. I felt like I owned the place.

From this hilltop, you can see how the long horizontal buildings artistically link the crowns of three separate hills. In fact, Frank Lloyd Wright first viewed the site of the Civic Center from this hill and proclaimed, "I'll bridge these hills with graceful arches." And that he did.

After living in a van for the past month, this is a lot to take in. The trees! The birds! The mountains! And the roof's blue! So blended with the infinite sky! I'll just get my tent and move in.

I spent a hearty amount of time at a picnic table on the top of the hill. From there, I cautiously placed my camera atop my tea cup, set the self timer, and posed with this bust.

It took me three tries. Thankfully, I was alone, or else I'd really look like a fool.

After my photo shoot, I sat down and jumped on The Hunger Games bandwagon. No regrets there. A couple hours later, I was getting some numb-butt on the picnic table, so it was time for a walk.

I would like to think that the sign below is now out-of-date, but in college, my roommates and I once kept a real Christmas tree in our apartment until the end of March. Fire hazard, indeed.

Across from the Civic Center is Lagoon Park. And you guessed it, there's a lagoon. And lots of ducks. With lots of duck poop.

I walked the circumference of the lagoon, catching a runaway pit bull midway. I settled on a bench overlooking the water and without hesitation, continued reading The Hunger Games.

As the clouds started rolling in, it was beginning to get rather frigid. As much as I wanted to stay outside and enjoy the scenery, I opted for the comfort of Home Sweet Home.

I settled in the Astro Van with my book, waiting to hear from Pete about meeting him at his hotel. That night, we had a stellar dinner, a bit of wine, beer, dice-gambling and a big big comfy hotel bed to sleep in! Oh, the appreciation for a big bed and space to stand up in nowadays!

The next morning, I bid Pete adieu as he and his coworkers were off to ~~squeal tires~~ work all day. I made my way back to that big comfy bed where I may or may not have watched the entirety of Titanic.

That brings us to check-out. Losing the privilege of the hotel room, I headed to the lobby to do some vineyard research. I was in wine country and I was thirsty!

I opted for a vineyard about four miles down from ~~the racetrack~~ Pete's work site. From the handful of reviews I skimmed, Viansa Winery had one of the best views in Sonoma and mediocre wine. I was pretty sure their selection would beat my usual Carlo Rossi, so I was in.

And yea, the views were killer.

Pleasantly perched on top of a large hill, this winery and marketplace embodies a distinct Italian atmosphere. It is surrounded by copious vineyards, olive groves and flower gardens. It's sublime!

Before indulging, I took a bit of time to explore my surrounds, which made me feel like I was wandering the Tuscan countryside.

Inside, I indulged in a wine tasting, giving their Arneis, Pinot Noir, Syrah and dessert wine a try. I rather enjoyed the dry, apricoty Arneis. It had an excellent full body and...who am I kidding? I don't speak wine. I liked it because the name "Arneis" literally translates to "little rascal."

I picked up a bottle for someone special and bought myself a full glass of white to sip on whilst I continued my Hunger Games quest.

May the odds be ever in your favor- to get me out of that damn chair!

Vantics!

2012-01-26T21:24:00.001-05:00

Van-house entertainment can certainly be a challenge. There is no comfortable seating arrangement- the bed being too lofted to multi-function as a couch. We have no electricity. It can sometimes get a little chilly. Our only modern convenience is a crappy AM/FM radio. And it's cramped.

Enter: wine.

We're no boozers, but every once and a while we like to polish off a nice bottle of pinot noir or riesling. Safety note: we're always sure to park and stay parked once we pop the cork for the evening.

We light the fireplace, which adds a warm and romantic ambiance to our otherwise industrial surroundings.

And then things start to get silly. For instance, we break out the seaweed and get to snackin'!

Then Pete gets a hold of the camera and goes buck-wild with a photo shoot. A small percentage of his portfolio is displayed below:

I turn the lens on him, allowing him to show off our fancy entertainment center.

And when the wine's gone, there's nothing much left to do but sleep...

Vancation: Sausalito

2012-01-24T17:01:00.000-05:00

One of the greatest benefits of living in a funcitonal housevan is the ability to spontaneously travel on the super cheap. The weekends can start to be a bore after so many hours of dilly-daddling around the same ol' town, so whenever we have a whim, we'll go somewhere new.

This past Saturday, we ventured to Sausalito, CA: the birthplace of Otis Redding's aptly descriptive, (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay. Sausalito, meaning "small willow grove," is a charming little community situated just north of the Golden Gate Bridge.

An hour's drive away, we arrived around 3pm, parking on the main drag at an ambiguously labeled meter. I dumped all of my quarters into the parking meter, hoping that all the differing signage and warnings were only enforced during paid hours only, and we could therefore make that spot our home for the evening.

After changing into some warmer clothes and locking up shop, we ventured out into town, admiring the picturesque bungalows and houseboats.

Before his rise to fame, Bill Cosby and his wife used to live on a Sausalito houseboat. You know who else used to live on a houseboat? This guy:

A cramped-space aficionado, Pete has lived in a submarine, a sailboat, an illegal, windowless, low-ceiling basement, a tiny Winnebago and an even tinier Astro Van. What does the future have in store for us? Apparently, tree houses, conex boxes, sheds and tents.

What can I say? We like little diggs! Simplicity keeps us happy.

And Sausalito was simply gorgeous. Our trip fit perfectly into the only dry time period last weekend, as a week of downpours finally brought some relief to the drought-ridden Bay area.

After a walk through the captivating neighborhood, we stopped for a pre-dinner drink at Horizons, a touristy restaurant with stunning woodwork and hilarious people-watching opportunities. Formerly the San Francisco Yacht Club (built in 1898), this historic building was abandoned from 1927-1959, when it reopened its doors as the Trident Restaurant, a destination for Janis Joplin, the Rolling Stones and other celebrity mind-altering substance users.

Now home to Horizons, the building's awe-inspiring views will have anyone tripping:

After an innocent glass of wine and a beer for myself and Pete, respectively, we were starting to feel the hunger pangs. Back at the Astro Van, we researched hot dinner spots in town, since, you know, paying zero rent affords us the luxury of fancy-shmancy dinners every week.

Sausalito is sprinkled with delectable eateries, and we opted for the magnificent Plate Shop, an organic, farm-to-table operation with additional ingredients provided by the kitchen's own 14 vegetable beds. This place was right up our alley- mellow, with a splash of pomp. Rustic with a bit of whimsy. We sat at the beautiful wooden community table suspended from the ceiling (Pete screwed it in a little tighter as a precaution), which encouraged us to interact with fellow eaters. And that we did!

The drinks were innovative and inspiring: If only I could concoct gin-ginger-cilantro-lime-wasabi martinis in the Astro Van all day. That would really class the crib up.

As for the food, we wanted to try it all. But we settled on the grilled local squid with Spanish chorizo as an appetizer and shared two melt-in-your-mouth-scrumptious entrees: the California yellowtail fish with romesco sauce and the vegetable tagine. Superb!

I would have taken pictures of our beautiful dishes, but it would have been slightly awkward at the shared table, ya know? And besides, we were too busy cleaning plate.

Afterwards, our new community-table dinner friends invited us the the little Thai place next door for a Singha beer. Joining us for a drink was an intriguing young woman, breaking California law by smoking indoors:

A short walk later, and we were back home at the Astro Van, conveniently parked across the street from our new friends' hotel. We gave them a quick tour (it only takes a second) and noted their immediate change in posture and comfort. Yea, it's weird. We know.

We exchanged information (the Silicon Valley is all about networking) and said our goodbyes. Settling in for the evening, we passed out rather quickly, relaxed from our numerous cocktails and full bellies. Another fairly comfortable evening: not too cold, but slightly off balance due to the road's slant by the curb.

We woke up at 8:15am. Crap! The parking meter! They're enforced again at 8am! We got ourselves together, defrosted the always-steamy windshield (it's like Titanic, but less sexy) and hit the road before the meter maid could make an appearance.

We took the East Bay-route home that Sunday, knowing that 49ers fans would soon be flocking to San Francisco. Not more than 20 minutes out of Sausalito, it started to rain.

Life's Vantastic!

2012-01-14T20:26:00.005-05:00

If you've been following @peteandkara on Twitter, then you already know that we've added a bit more crazy to our lives. Last Friday night, Pete and I bought a 1995 Chevy Astro Van for the purpose of temporary housing (with the added benefit of a killer set of wheels!).

After crashing at my friend's house for about a month, we started to feel like we were overstaying our welcome. With the Winnebago still at the shop in Texas (for perhaps another month), we decided to brainstorm some ideas for short-term housing. A van was the obvious choice, you know, since this blog was getting so boring.

Prior to making another ridiculous life choice, we weighed the pros and cons of the few options we had.

The first was an apartment sublet. I found a couple on Craigslist in our area, lasting anywhere from two weeks to 3 months. Being that the Silicon Valley is so wretchedly expensive, a sublet was looking to cost us anywhere between $1800 (for a month and a half) to $3885 (for 3 months). And that didn't include a car. Or furniture. Or electricity. And we can't sell an apartment back when we're done with it.

Plan B was a motel. We're pretty good at living in motels. It seemed fairly reasonable. But a month would have cost $1100 and up. And again, no car. Or resell value. And sometimes motels can get...awkward.

So we decided on option #3: A mediocre cargo van. Scouring the area for a cheap (under $2000), but decent van, we settled on the first one we looked at, which was conveniently located in town- only a 5 minute bike ride away.

A quick test drive taught us that the windshield wipers have a mind of their own (we have bad luck with windshield wipers...), the shifter is based on "feel", and to ignore the intermittent "Service Engine Soon" light. We were sold!

We started working bright and early the next day, and I don't think we've stopped since. Day 1, Saturday, was all about cleaning. And oh my, did that thing need cleaning. It's a shop van after all- not something people traditionally deep clean. Because, like, who would live in that piece of junk!?

We got rid of all the little odds and ends that accumulated in the back cab over time. And, damn did dude have some crap.

Pete took out the metal dividers behind the two front seats, which freed up a bit of useful space and got rid of a ton of weight. Then it was on to shelving removal. Shelves are great and all, but these ones weren't conducive to our living situation. We knew we could make better use of our space. Problem was: those little buggers were hella bolted down!

Two hours later, we had quite the pile of trash and scrap.

Being that we were apathetic about cashing our scrap metal in (we were in project mode, people), I put a quick post in the "free" section of Craigslist advertising our pile of bullshit. Fifteen minutes later, it was gone.

Next, we brushed out the large quantity of debris and scrubbed down the floor with soapy water. Taking better care cleaning this crappy van than we ever have with the Winnebago (we never even vacuumed it until we had already lived in it for two months), we meticulous wiped down all the nooks and crannies in the front cab, being sure to eliminate all spider webs.

Then, using his favorite material, Pete patched up the driver's seat with a healthy dose of duct tape.

Seeking a little bit of class, we added a pair of cheap seat covers to mask the Astro Van's dirty past.

Afterwards, it was off to Home Depot for some snazzy indoor/outdoor carpet. That night, keeping warm with a bottle of wine, Pete cut the carpet to size and glued down the edges. We went for the ~~cheapest~~ least expensive option. Basically, it's AstroTurf. But, it's almond AstroTurf. Ooh, la la!

The next day was bed-building day. We had already purchased what we thought was enough lumber at Home Depot the night before, so Pete was able to get started fairly early in the day.

Being that all of Pete's power tools were still in the Winnebago (regret!), we broke down and bought another drill and saw (and got an angle drill for free!). After a little in-head planning, it was construction time. Pete designed the bed to be flush with the wall, removing a chunk of the side plank to fit around a small protrusion, thereby giving us an additional half-inch of space! Meanwhile, I was making sandwiches.

The lack of safe work space (basically, the lack of a table) meant that Pete was sawing wood off the end of the van. Luckily no appendages were lost in the making of our bed.

After only four hours (the Winnie's bed took about three days), the bed was complete. And sturdy! Pete bolted it to the floor, so that thing's not going anywhere.

A quick trip to Ikea later, and we were mattressed! A less-expensive version of our Winnie's new mattress, the van's bed is a comfy foam diddy that certainly does the trick. And fits like a glove in Pete's masterfully-crafted, better-than-Ikea bed frame.

As was the motivation for our 'lofted' bed in the Winnie, the van needed storage space. So although we can't really sit upright on the bed and we bang our heads all the damn time, we've got plenty of storage capacity.

I've had that Nike bag since elementary school.

Our first night in the van was rather blustery- the windows were uncovered, the walls were bare and we stayed on an open road with no tree cover or wind protection. The 40-degree damp California air really made it feel colder than it actually was. So insulation was definitely key.

This time, Pete didn't have to fight me to turn our home into a space ship. Contrary to my initial feelings about the silver bubble wrap window coverings in the Winnebago, I not only agreed to insulate the entire van with silly shiny shit, but I encouraged it! In fact, I installed it! See, I can do more than just make sandwiches!

Despite cutting the crap out of my hands with the aluminum and banging my head every five minutes, the insulation installation was fairly simple, given that the rolls I purchased were self-adhesive.

For both thermal and privacy protection, we installed a shower curtain in front of the captain's chairs, which keeps all of our precious belongings out of site.

The van is definitely much warmer at night now. The last four nights have actually been quite comfortable. Although the curtains and insulation are quite effective on their own, we keep an extra heat source on board for cutting out that extra chill in the air. Walmart never new it's clearance Christmas candles could be so life-saving:

And we went all out with our living room furniture too. It's even got storage inside!

At least the bucket lets us sit up straight without bashing our heads.

So, what about the bathroom? Don't worry, we've got that covered.

I've got a brand new mixing bowl to desecrate. And this one has a spout! More importantly, however, is the tinkle-disposal urinal (not for direct peeing).

As for showers, Pete keeps clean at work (they have full facilities) and I got a gym membership at 24 Hour Fitness. So, assuming I shower everyday (which I don't), I'm paying about $1.50 a shower. Plus I get to work out, which I'm not really sure how to do. I think I'll just stick with the classes- I've already taken Pilates and Yoga and my ass is killing me.

After about a week in our new van, we're feeling pretty groovy. Sure, it's small, but at least we're not paying Silicon Valley rent and we've got the freedom to go anywhere. We'll probably be off on a new weekend adventure soon.

As for the remainder of this weekend, we'll spend our time fixing up any loose ends and finishing the roof-patching project. Our van came with a shoddily-welded roof rack which now houses our spare tire and Pete's bike (which, like a he-man, he takes off and puts back on everyday for work). Because the rack was so poorly patched up in the past, it needed some attention.

We purchased a wire brush to scrape off all the rotten duct tape from previous patch efforts and some Rustoleum spray paint to prevent further rusting. Tomorrow, after the paint dries, we're going to use tar sheets to seal up the patches.

Obviously, this isn't a 'best-practices' roof fix. And it's not particularly pretty or flashy either. But there's rain in the forecast and we're not interested in getting wet. Screw form. We're masters of functionality!

Happy Birthday Ashleigh!

2012-01-03T23:20:00.001-05:00

Today (January 3) is my sister, Ashleigh's, birthday. So a big birthday huzzah to her! She's a super duper athlete. Her daily activities include: running, dancing, yoga-ing, swimming, biking, waitressing and eating ice cream.

In 2011, she ran 2,401 miles, which included the 26.2 miles at the end of an Iron-distance triathlon. Via Twitter, I made her a promise:

Fairly reasonable, no?

Dispatches: Holiday Edition

2012-01-03T22:43:00.002-05:00

Well, the holidays have come and gone and by golly, it's been stressful! Back in Austin, under the assumption that we'd surely be flying out of California for Christmas, I bought stupidly expensive airline tickets to the east coast (where my family resides).

But in the midst of all the hoopla surrounding our road trip to California, I was beginning to think we'd be spending Christmas at a Roadway Inn in the middle of Texas. Aware of our ever-changing schedules, however, I was sure to purchase refundable tickets this time around, noting my prior brain lapse after booking a non-refundable Vegas trip.

Obviously, we made it to California and are living rather comfortably with our gracious host family. As much as we miss living in a Winnebago, we couldn't have asked for a better way to acclimate to the area and get back into "work-mode." Pete's been enjoying a rather enjoyable work schedule and I've been accomplishing my daily household duties while relentlessly job searching at the same time. Life's peachy.

The Winnebago is doing rather well, too! All the parts are set for a transmission conversion. We purchased a junkyard Lesharo for $650 about a month ago, and it turns out that not only is the manual transmission in great condition, but the diesel engine is too!

Our mechanic, Jonathan, even got the junk-ebago to cruise at 40mph! Definitely worth the measly price tag, even with the copious amounts of mold within. We're hoping to be back to our old lifestyle sometime in February. California weather is ideal for full-time RV living!

I was hoping we'd be able to at least reach our official Winneversary before the thing broke down, but alas, no such luck. December 17, the day in 2010 when we moved into Miss Marty McFly, flew by without much regard. But as I've said in the past, we're not really much for anniversaries, so I don't know why I'm trying to force this into such a big deal. Not everything has to be a moment, ya know?

Speaking of moments, there were many of them in front of Christmas trees this festive holiday season. You are now entering the "Allow Me To Bore You With Family Holiday Photos" section of the blog.

Here's one Christmas tree photo, at my parent's house in Maryland:

And another, this time at my aunt and uncle's in Pennsylvania:

And yet another, at my grandparent's crib in New Jersey:

And then there's this Christmas tree portrait, which makes it look like we have children:

COUSINS Nick & Joe

Thrilling, no? Christmas, despite the long, uncomfortable plane rides, missed connection and mid-flight hangover, was most definitely a treat. Not only did we get to see some of my old high school buddies (shout outs to Nikki, Gio, Julie, Zoe, Lucy and family!), but we were able to spend some quality time with my big ol' Italian/Jewish/Loud family.

We had coloring contests:

Cousins Joe and Nick, my sister Ashleigh, Kara & Pete

And we took whiskey shots in my grandma's pantry:

Uncle Frank, Pete & Uncle (Re)Pete

And then came the aftermath of said whiskey shots:

There were myriad photos taken of various familial groups. Below is a photo of half the grandchildren:

Lexi, Joe, Kara, Nick, Ashleigh, Julie and Sad Jacob

And now with more grandchildren, grandma, grandpa and even Aunt Nicole! (My grandparents have 15 grandchildren in total. Phew!)

After opening some presents, a few of the kiddos discovered that their sweet new "Claw" Electronic Candy Grabber Machine Arcade Game wouldn't work. With the Amazon.com proclamation, "It's so much fun, once you start you just can't stop," it was fairly disappointing not to get the damn thing to just...start.

Total bummer. Send it back to China, right!? NO WAY! Not only is Pete a Mr. Fix-It, but my Uncle Pete is a handy electrician in his own right. Pete and Pete to the rescue!

Once they figured out which wire was disconnected, it was literally a 30-second soldering fix. Viola! Candy for everyone! Thanks be to Santa!

Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Yadda Yadda Yadda.

Pete and I made it back to California for New Years, for which, unlike last year, we were determined to stay up past 9pm. Midnight or bust!

Sara, our housemate/host, invited us to chill with some of her high school buddies to ring in 2012. Low key. Relaxed. Lots of wine. And fancy whiskey too!

I'd say 2012 started off pretty well!

I know Dick Clark had a pretty good night:

Pete spent the remainder of his 4-day weekend fixing a car, sprinkler system & a washing machine and laboriously trimming fruit and maple trees. He's got a way with trees! What can this man NOT do?!

I offered support and admiration from the comfort of a lawn chair. My little pal Tucker and I spectated while basking in the 75-degree sunshine. I needed to relax, you know, because unemployment is so difficult...

I also slaved over some reading while working on my tan. HARD WORK.

So yea, I like reading...

...but I prefer the dog.

Minor Incident

2011-12-17T01:35:00.000-05:00

This is Cory Matthews:

No, not that Cory Matthews. He's been with me for over four years. We have a love/hate relationship. When Cory gets introduced into new situations, he tends to freak. And two of those situations just so happen to involve Sara (with whom Pete and I are currently staying).

The first: Sara, Susanna and myself lived in Chicago together during the summer of 2007. What follows is an old school picture of Susanna and Sara. (Kara, not pictured).

God bless Facebook

At the time, we were all bikeless. So to fill the void, we hopped on the red line to Evanston and shopped around at the Recyclery, where each of us found our perfect bike.

To make a long story short, Sara borrowed Cory Matthews one day (for convenience sake) and BAM! She got doored. (Dooring is when a person opens their door without checking their side-view mirror and either hits a biker on the side or the biker slams into the door from the front).

Totally sucked. For Sara (nasty bruises). And Cory (bent front rim).

Jump to Mountain View, California- yesterday. Cory's still with me. I'm riding him (you know, the bike) and Sara's going strong on her new wheels. We're on our way to a two-hour focus group for a whopping $30 cash. (It cost me more to ship the Winnebago back to Austin than it did to buy the damn thing in the first place. So, yea, I'm going all out for the dollar bills).

Rounding an overpass, I decide to pull off onto the sidewalk to wait for Sara to descend. I'm thinking "I should really move onto the sidewalk because it seems stupid to stop and wait in the street, even though this street is not very busy and the bike lane is massive." So I pull off onto the sidewalk. Except that the sidewalk eats me.

Apparently California driveways fail to mesh evenly with the pavement, a fact I was not really aware of until I was skidding along side of the minor curb and subsequently crashing onto the ground. My failure to enter the sidewalk at a more perpendicular angle will continue to haunt me here in Mountain View.

After my body finished barreling toward the ground, a lady nonchalantly walked by and proclaimed, "Yep. That happens all the time around here," and proceeded to walk off.

At least I'm not the only bike-challenged person in town.

The Saga Continues, Continued

2011-12-13T21:21:00.002-05:00

So I suppose our situation could have been worse. Much worse. I mean, as I previously alluded, we could have been stuck on the side of the highway. We were at the right place at the right time, even as disaster hit.

And what is this disaster, you ask? Well, after we left Las Cruces, New Mexico, everything was totally groovy. We were driving smoothly, with no shimmy, and we were even climbing hills with gusto (up to 70mph, I kid you not!).

Then we got to Tucson. We had already planned to stay with my friend, Susanna, for the night. She graciously allowed us a cozy spot in her backyard. We were behind schedule and ready for some snuggles and shut eye in a wickedly cold Winnebago. All was well on the highway but as we turned off from our exit, we could tell the transmission was failing.

The Winnie was having trouble shifting gears, hitting really high RPMs to shift into second (or is it third? We're convinced there are only two gears on this thing). Getting it to move in the first place required Pete to be super gentle on the gas pedal. It was touchy and we were getting anxious.

At this point, we just needed to make it to Susanna's backyard. Only 1.4 miles to go! You can do it, you bastard Winnebago! And sure enough, we made it to the backyard's gate. It was miraculous. I reiterate- we could have been stuck on the side of the highway!

But the drama continues. The threshold into the yard is but a mere four, maybe six-inch climb. And oh boy did that Winnebago face some trouble. Really dude? You're gonna crap out over a bitty curb? Let's be serious.

With some serious torque, she finally made it up the 'mountain' and safely into Susanna's backyard, where we cuddled up and quasi-peacefully slept for the night. Of course, we knew it was over. There was no way she'd be able to make it to California, let alone out of the backyard. We were totally bummed.

Pete spent the whole next day working on the Winnebago, trying to get it into reasonable shape so that it could at least drive a little. We pulled it out of Susanna's backyard and around the corner to the front of her house. It was rather frightening. For a minute there, we thought we were going to get stuck, right in the middle of the ally, for an indefinite amount of time.

She had enough power to pull around front, where we parked her and basically hung out for the remainder of the day. We walked to an auto store to buy a crap-ton of transmission fluid and stop-leak, because that'll, like, do the trick, right?

Pete tinkered away at the Winnebago for hours. The old transmission fluid looked burnt and sludgy and clearly needed to be replaced, regardless of the transmission's status. I, meanwhile, was looking into auto-transport companies. All this way for nothing!

We decided to send the Winnie back to Austin for our genius mechanic, Jonathan, to deal with. The automatic transmission was always the weakest part of the Winnebago, and we knew it needed replacing. Time constraints are a bitch, man. We wanted to do this from the start. Wishful thinking...

Rather than follow the Winnie back (we had a deadline, remember), we planned to rent a car, drive to California and then figure it out from there.

The work was rather heartbreaking, for it didn't even seem all that necessary. In the heat of our frustration, we even considered bringing her to the junkyard. Sorry, Winnie, for having such thoughts! You are my home, Marty McFly!

Disappointed.

Because we knew the Winnebago would sit around at Susanna's house for a few days by itself, we thought it best to bring it back to the gated yard for safe keeping. Well, it needed to be able to drive for that to happen, obviously. After Pete finishes his labors, he starts the thing up, puts her in drive and presses the gas. Nope. Not going anywhere. Reverse? Nothing. Oh dear.

Pete assures me that it often takes a few tries after replacing the tranny fluid to get the Winnie to go. Deep breath. He tries again. And nothing. It took another three or four tries to get her moving, ever so slightly. Oh, now we're in business!

We actually got her to ride around the block, being sure not to over-work the transmission. She rode in first pretty well. Reverse was almost gone. And that was it.

Pete drives the Winnie back towards Susanna's house where, this time, we decide to back into the backyard. Well we made it, but that's the last time she'd be reversing for a long time. That dreaded little lip at the gate's entrance totally did her in. The Winnie was working so hard to get up the curb, smoke started seeping out of the hood.

But by golly, she made it. One more sigh of relief...

That night, we drank beers (Texas beers) and watched zombie shows, trying to relax from such a tumultuous day. We slept, rather frigidly again, with the hope that we'd be somewhere in California by the next day. Our morning was stressful as we debated the fate of the Winnebago. I'm telling you, we were pissed. The junkyard option arose again, but I was set on bringing it back to Austin.

But what about lodging in California? I looked into long-term hotel stays, but hardly anyone offered discounted rates. So at $70 a day, we'd be looking at $2100 to live in a mediocre hotel for a month.

I also e-mailed a few temporary sublets in the area where we could rent a room in a furnished apartment. A bit more reasonable at around $950 a month (still outrageous compared to Austin), but you just never know what you may be getting yourself into with complete strangers in a new town.

In the heat of an intense argument, I slyly messaged an old friend from college who lives with her folks in the very area where Pete would be working. You know, it was an option and we were freaking desperate. We pride ourselves on self-sufficiency, so it was difficult for us to even propose an idea that would inconvenience others (especially after dumping our Winnebago in Susanna's yard hoping she'd be around to hand it off to the transport guys). But I went for it. And I didn't tell Pete.

Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from my California-pal, Sara, giving us the go ahead to stay with her and her parents. Ooh ooh! Female roomie! That was probably the biggest weight lifted off our shoulders. Now we were moving with confidence.

As I am wont to do, I have included a photo of Sara and myself from college. Chicken fighting on one leg. I lost. She may be small, but she is mighty!

Approaching lunchtime on Wednesday, Susanna so benevolently took us to the airport to pick up a rental car. I don't know what we would do without her!

And check out what we got!

Pimp.

We spent the remainder of the day packing up our lives into this brand spanking new VW Jetta. All the important stuff came with, because what if some hooligans tried to break into the Winnie whilst we were away and steal all of our stuff? Or the transport company dudes? They're notorious for that kind of shit. You can have my Listerine, dude. You probably need it.

It took quite a bit of time, but by 5pm, we were ready to roll. With clothes, beer, food, bikes and important documents in tow, it was time to hit to road. Move on. Get the hell out of the Southwest.

Cruising in our oh-so-easy-to-drive Jetta, we calmed ourselves by admiring the sunset. Another spectacular view.

Leaving Tucson, it was already dinner time. And rush hour again, go figure. Pete wanted to take me somewhere special for dinner. So we waited until we were in Phoenix so that we could get Beef and Brew with a View. And that we did!

Pete stopped at Rustler's Rooste once before during a work trip a few months ago. He found it strange and enjoyable and therefore thought it would be a perfect relaxation spot for us as we approached the completion of this journey. (Other journeys surely await).

The restaurant sits atop a mountain that overlooks the whole Phoenix metro area. It's an extremely steep climb that our Winnebago would never be able to make; not in a million years. Not even with a manual transmission. We chuckled in the Jetta.

At the entrance, a live cow sits and stares at restaurant-goers, smelling of poo (the cow, not the restaurant-goers. Well, not all the restaurant-goers). But his presence was appreciated and humorous. As our hostess walked us to our table, Pete and I opted for the slide (you know, as opposed to stairs). We cut in front of four small children and it was totally thrilling.

We drank some Arizona beers (Grand Canyon Horseshoe Bend Pale Ale) and ate a bunch of meat. The wait staff all wear cowboy hats. There are wood chips on the floor. Yee haw. One last hurrah for southwest America!

Pete showing that rib who's boss.

And yea, the view was sweet. Despite our downfalls, we were happy.

And really full. A slightly uncomfortable car ride awaited us.

Bloated.

Satisfied, we hopped in the car and fled from Phoenix and headed straight into the desert. Being in a shnazzy new car with a working gas gauge, we were less paranoid about running out of gas. (The Winnie and the Kia both have broken gas gauges).

Well our confidence blind-sided us. Out in the middle of nowhere, gas stations are anything but abundant. A quarter of a tank went to an eighth of a tank to a sixteenth of a tank without a fuel stop in sight. For real? After all the shit we've been through! Jetta, you little bitch.

The gas light goes on and we do the math. We could probably make it another 41.23 miles before we totally run out (ah, fuel efficiency!). I check for fuel stops on my not-so-handy-dandy Garmin: 39 miles. Oh dear lord. Right as we're panicking I see a sign, "Next services 61 miles." Exit! Exit! Garmin, you pathetic idiot.

Phew, that was close. I had never been so happy to see a Chevron in my life.

We get back on the road, 100%-positive that we were being followed by a strange man (he was on our tail previously and then was waiting for us to pull out of our parking space). I book a hotel room on the fly and we're San Bernardino bound!

We landed around midnight, unpacked the car and proceeded to get some quality sleep at the Quality Inn. Followed by a semi-quality breakfast. And The Saint, starring Val Kilmer.

Our Thursday drive was awesome in that there were no hiccoughs. Smooth sailing. And beautiful terrain. (Well, for the most part; you do have to drive through the most atrocious factory cow farm).

We were at Sara's house in time for dinner. Sara's great. Her folks are great. Their house is great. The food is great. The dogs are great.

Uh oh. We're about to be spoiled. I promise I still love you Marty McFly: the little Lesharo that really f*#king couldn't. You asshole!

But, no really, I still love you!

Come back!

The Saga Continues

2011-12-12T17:52:00.002-05:00

Well, we made it to California! Our trusty Winnebago, however, did not...

Remember when we thought we were having difficulties with our transmission but it was actually our axle knuckles? Well, it was actually our transmission. It’s toast.

Allow me to rewind. At last update, we were laboring through frozen west Texas. At the beginning of our second day (Tuesday), we were still under the impression that our Winnie was invincible, so long as we kept greasin’ them axles and avoiding the dreaded shimmy. How naïve...

Ever since we purchased the damn thing, we knew our automatic transmission was trash. Hence we bought a junk-yard Lesharo with a manual tranny to replace it. But there was just no time to swap it out. We had that stupid deadline, after all.

And honestly, she was running like a dream for much of the day on Tuesday. Despite difficulties climbing hills (occasionally, we'd enter the 80mph highway at 28mph, so, uh, thank God for hazard lights), we were still confident of the Winnie's rock star capabilities.

And you know what? West Texas isn't really all that bad to look at. We received a plethora of warnings about dreaded west Texas: "It's so boring!" "Oh, man it's desolate our there." "Ugh, I'm glad I'm not you." "You guys are stupid."

But the westward trek was actually pretty pleasant. The sky was infinite and the sun was shining.

In the video below, you can vaguely see the steam coming off the pavement as it warmed. More importantly, though, this video serves to demonstrate just how incredibly shaky the Winnebago can be while driving. It gets tiresome.

Many points of the drive were almost nauseating. Mostly those times when the Winnie was using all its strength to climb a moderate hill. Those are the moments when you just hold your breath and hope. There were a lot of those moments. But she persevered, regardless. We were lucky. In retrospect, we continue to question what would have happened if we got stuck on the side of the highway in 25-degree temperatures. We were definitely lucky...

As we continued, we began to see even more snow dusted on the ground (and that worried us a bit). Further ahead, we witnessed mountain tops capped in snow peek through the clouds.

The Winnebago routine continued. Every two hours we would stop to gas up and let the Winnie rest. The gas gauge is broken on the Winnie (as it was on our Kia), so we weren't trying to take any chances.

Every few stops, Pete would re-grease those axles. One of our stops was beautiful, yet anything but pleasant for Pete. It was bitter cold and he had to lay on the pavement under the Winnie and shove grease into tiny crevices with his bare hands. The wind was whipping. I sat inside, blogging or something...

The working conditions were not ideal.

Poor guy.

At least our situation fared better than the dude's next to us. Well, at least that's what we thought back then...

After a thorough greasing, the Winnie pulled over and posed for an all-inclusive holiday card!

Happy Christmahanukwanzmakah!

And then it was back to the road. Onward and onward we drove. A seemingly endless push to get the hell out of Texas. Hours passed. The snow eventually disappeared and the sun was slowly setting. I found the landscape intriguing.

Much of our remaining time in west Texas (before El Paso) was spent on the tail of semis in order to increase our gas mileage. There's that little suction area just behind a semi that pulls you into a vortex if you get close enough. In cars, you can shift into neutral and just coast. Not so easy in a rickety Winnebago. The vortex was a little unsettling. And terribly jerky.

Objects in photo are closer than they appear.

We approached El Paso just as the sun was setting. It was pretty. And we were hungry.

Sun! Nom nom!

We opted to tough our hunger out until we got into New Mexico. But it was exactly 5 o'clock. Perhaps we should have waited out the traffic?

Finally, we crossed the Texas border into New Mexico (a long-awaited moment, indeed!). Las Cruces wasn't far off. It was seriously time for some dinner. We stopped at what we thought was a little local barbecue joint: Dickey's Barbecue Pit. What? That shit's a chain from Texas! You've got to be kidding me...

Whatever. It was awesome. Free pickles for Pete. Free ice cream for me. We were happy.

Who knew that only 5 hours later, tragedy would strike our little home? And we'd be f*#king pissed...

West Texas Never Ends

2011-12-06T16:15:00.000-05:00

We’re not even out of Texas yet and we’ve already facing trouble. We left yesterday afternoon around 4pm and instantly we knew that the hills were going to be a problem. They don’t call it the Hill Country for nothing, right?

But let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

We’ve known for about three weeks that we’d be moving out to California. The only question was: when? It wasn’t confirmed that our trip would start on Monday until six days ago. That didn’t really give us much time to prepare, but luckily, we don’t need that much time. Knowing that our move was forthcoming, we sent our Winnebago to Jonathan, our mechanic, for all necessary repairs. I put my two weeks in with work. And we scheduled our Christmas travel out of San Jose, CA, not Austin.

Because our mechanic needed longer than the week we were away in Michigan to work on the Lesharo, we booked a room at the Econo Lodge north of town. Which is where we stayed for the remainder of our stay in Austin. How romantic!

To be honest, though, the room was just what we needed. We had plenty of room to nervously pace back and forth, contemplating our impending journey. We had a real shower. A huge bed (which we only ever used 1/3 of, because, let’s face it…we’re not used to that kind of luxury). And there was free breakfast!

Instead of exploring the restaurant and brew house gems of Austin we had yet to discover, we kept it old school and had ourselves a hotel party:

We spent our last week packing up our life in Austin, enjoying the company of good friends and imbibing strong tasty drinks. And we even had out-of-town company! My good friend and old college roommate, Sus flew in from Tucson, AZ to party like it was 2007.

We ate Po-Boys at a food truck with Molly, tried on some $500 cowboy boots and perused a wacky "antique" shop where you can buy an old index card with the letter 'a' on it for $10. How very Austin.

Later, Josh and Pete joined us for an evening of wild behavior and utter debauchery, which served as both a welcome party and bon voyage celebration for Sus and Pete & I, respectively.

The fishbowl. Tasted like suntan lotion and headaches.

Definitely a good weekend to go out on. But now it was time to get serious…

We decided to keep the Kia in Austin, leaving it with our mechanic, because it just didn’t make sense to take two semi-unreliable vehicles on a 1700-mile trek through desert and hills at one time.

We were driving back to our hotel in the Kia for our final night, and whatdayaknow? That squeaky belt we've been ignoring for months finally snapped. Luckily, it wasn’t the timing belt; instead, we were running without an alternator and had no power. Winnebago deja-vu! Because we knew the drill, we immediately turned off the radio and dash lights. She made it home, but would she start up in the morning to drive one final trip to our mechanic’s?

Thank baby Jesus, the Kia made it, driving on a battery full only of hope and butterflies. We weren’t ready for a serious snafu yet. From there, we took the Winnie to our hotel to pack up our entire lives.

Before we officially left, we stopped by the old RV park to say some goodbyes. We will surely miss this place. Everyone was so tolerant and understanding of us.

For lunch, we ordered a pizza from the first place we ever ate out at in Austin: Southside Flying Pizza.

We took our pizza to go, enjoying it en route. It was approaching rush hour, so there was no more time to be dilly dallying about.

We made our first stop in frigid Fredericksburg, TX, the bed and breakfast mecca of Texas. And it really is a charming town. After two hours of strenuous ups-and-downs, the Winnebago was in need of a rest, so we found a safe parking spot for her and headed inside to the Fredericksburg Brewery to warm up with a couple beers and a soft pretzel.

Gassed up and running better than ever, the Winnie continued full speed ahead (60mph), moving west towards I-10, where we will be cruising for a majority of our trek.

Dark and desolate, our drive towards El Paso was notable mostly for the speed at which 18-wheelers would pass us and the small patch of snow we hit near Junction, TX (that was only the second time I’ve seen snow in all of 2011!).Our plan was to land in Ft. Stockton for the evening, where we could crash at the Walmart.

But then we started to shimmy. No, we weren’t dancing. The Winnebago experienced a rather violent bout of shakes anytime we were traveling uphill. Which is 50% of the time. We could no longer reach 60mph. We could barely make it to 50. Was it our transmission? I hesitate to admit it, but we were f-ing scared.

So we pulled off in God-knows-where, Texas, got some gas and parked outside a hotel-looking complex. We crawled back into bed, contemplating our future, and then just sort of passed out for the evening. We never even shut the bubble wrap curtains. We felt defeated.

It was remarkably cold outside last night - around 23 degrees – but we were able to keep rather warm by snuggling up with a hilarious amount of layers. Overall, we slept fairly well given the conditions.

We woke up around 8am, feeling nervous to continue. What if this shimmy is super serious? We start her up and head back onto I-10, and guess what, no shimmy!

Well that only lasted about 40 minutes. The shimmy came back worse than ever and we knew we needed to stop. At the next rest area, we pulled over and called Jonathan, our genius mechanic. And he truly is an amazing resource.

Pete described the situation over the phone and Jonathan was able to pinpoint the problem (we hope). Our axle knuckles went bad and they need to be replaced (I'm not exactly sure what any of that means). Until we get new ones, we’ll be packing them with grease every day to fill the gap. No big deal, really; it's just super blustery outside.

Freezing fingers.

And so far so good. We finally made it past Ft. Stockton, so now we just need to make up time. We'll probably need to make some more grease stops, but our hope is to get to Tucson tonight, where we'll be staying with my friend Susanna (the same friend from this past weekend in Austin).

We'll be stopping frequently- to get gas and keep our axle's greased up. I'm just hoping we can get the hell out of Texas within the next few hours. I've had enough!

California Dreamin'

2011-12-05T15:07:00.000-05:00

Exciting news! Pete and I are taking the Winnie to the streets again. We're California bound and we're leaving today! Pete will be joining a different project at work, so we're moving to headquarters in the Bay area.

We anticipate a 4-5 day trip, visiting a few friends and doing some sightseeing along the way.

Unlike our first road trip in the Winnie (when we drove down to Austin), this time, we have a deadline. So mishaps aren't really an option. Thankfully, our Winnebago has been in good hands for the last two weeks. When we left for our Thanksgiving trip to Michigan (Dispatches from a Kia), we handed the Winnie over to our trusty mechanic, Jonathan, whom I'll profile in a later blog (because he's awesome).

Jonathan and Pete - Renault proud

And wow, he did an incredible job. She runs like a race car now. After all the work he did, we're pretty shocked we made it down to Texas in the first place. Back then, we were misfiring on a cylinder, leaking gas and had no heat. What a change! Totally pimpin' now.

Right now, Pete and I are packing out the Winnebago from the Econo Lodge we've been staying at for the past week (classy). We're in no major rush to leave. In fact, this whole ordeal brings me back to our first departure from Michigan last December. We were up all night packing and didn't leave until 3pm the next day. We'll take off when we're ready. The goal is to make it to Fort Stockton, Texas this evening, about a 7 hour drive including fuel and food breaks.

The biggest concern of the moment: weather.

Snow! Really!? 23 freaking degrees! Just two days ago, I was sipping cocktails on a patio with nothing more than a light cardigan. Our timing as we leave Austin is unfortunate. Although chilly today, we'll be sad to leave the mild winter weather here. Especially after that whack-ass summer.

Looks like we'll be resorting back to the body-heat method of staying warm tonight. Snuggle time!

Dispatches from a Kia, Part IV: The Long Road Home

2011-12-03T20:10:00.002-05:00

Our time in Michigan was short-lived but valuable nonetheless. Although we felt a bit rushed overall, it was definitely nice to hit up rural America and escape for a few days. After a quick oil change, lots of leftovers and some quality family time, it was time to get back on that long road towards Austin.

We left around 6am on Saturday morning with Little Rock on our minds. A 16-hour drive, it would be the longest day of driving for us yet. But the hotel reservation had been made and nothing could stop us now!

Not even the brakes going out. Yea, that's right. Upon entering the crossroads of America, Indiana, we heard an unsettling clunk from the back of the car. The rear brakes went out - which also includes the emergency brake. Scary, but we kept on truckin'. After all, it wasn't even 8am yet, so we'd have to wait for a repair shop to open anyway.

By 9am, we were approaching Fort Wayne, Indiana, where we decided it was time to get the brakes checked out. Pete knew his back brakes were a problem. He had tried to replace them in the past, but the drums were rusted on and impossible to take off on his own.

As we suspected, the mechanic told us that we needed the rear shoes, drums and hardware replaced. But unbeknownst to us, our front brakes were also grinding, so in addition, they also gave us new front pads and rotors. And by "gave us," I mean that we paid for them.

$560 and 4 hours later, we were ready to get our car back. We spent an asinine amount of time at the nearby Meijer and when we just couldn't take it anymore, we headed to the shop's waiting room and engaged in age-appropriate activities.

Sure, the brakes added an ass-ton amount of money to our total trip cost. But it was a fix that we've been needing for more than a few months now. And when we did the math for fixing the brakes ourselves, the price was actually pretty reasonable. It was more of a time investment than anything else. And we knew we would get tired.

It was 1:30pm and we still had 11 more hours of driving to complete. We debated changing our hotel to one that would be closer, but in the end, we just decided to go for it. Tea and NoDoz. They work magic.

Then, the rain started. And never ceased. It was pouring all through Illinois. It felt unsafe. Semi trucks were zooming by with no care. Visibility was low and it was quickly becoming dark.

And then I experienced the most frightening 13.42 minutes of my life. Our windshield wipers stopped working. The motor busted. Holy God. Now we can't see shit. I'm holding on to the car for dear life. Pete's a nervous wreck. The trucks are still whipping by, their water back splash totally blinding us. There were no exits for miles. No where to safely pull off.

Pete tried to put his head out of the window to see, but unfortunately, his glasses also don't have windshield wipers. Our tactic was to keep visible the white lines on the road, which was rather difficult. It was pitch black dark and water was flying everywhere. My heart was pounding. Pete came to terms with the surely imminent crash we would face. We were certain it was over.

Finally, what seemed like a lifetime later, we passed a sign for an exit. Only a mile further to go. We pulled into the small-town gas station and felt as though our threat of demise had not quite diminished yet. Still anxious and pumped full of adrenaline, it was time to prepare the windshield for a coat of Rain-X, our only hope of making it to Little Rock that night. We blast the defroster on high heat and heavily clean both sides of the window so we limit the amount of glare we receive from headlights.

I had never used Rain-X before, so I wasn't really aware of its capabilities. Honestly, I didn't even know what it was. I had doubts about the effectiveness of the technique, but I should always know that it's better to trust Pete than my own instincts.

We get back on the road and, I'll be damned, that stuff works miracles! I couldn't even tell it was raining, let alone pouring. I felt safer with the Rain-X on the windshield than with the wipers going full speed.

I was so mesmerized by the stuff, that I shot a video. While listening the most obvious musical choices, Ke$ha:

With our nerves restored, we completed the remainder of our evening's drive rather painlessly. With the time change, we arrived in downtown Little Rock around 11:30pm - better timing than we had anticipated considering the two vehicle malfunctions we encountered.

Because of the arduous journey we had just endured, we decided it was appropriate to go out for a beer. We quickly freshened up at the hotel and headed in the direction of people. There weren't many. We realized that a majority of the bars had just let out at midnight, so we were beginning to think we missed the party.

But then we found the only spot that seemed to still be rocking: Ernie Bigg's Chicago Style Dueling Piano Bar. We were greasy, smelly and exhausted, but the people watching was entertaining and the beers, refreshing.

Smoking is still legal in Little Rock bars, so we came home reeking of cigarettes. When we got home, I practically passed out. Pete stayed up and watched shows about greedy boy-band managers and African poop-throwing rituals. We slept peacefully, grateful that we hadn't died.

In the morning, we ate our free continental breakfast, asked for a late check-out, and went back to the room to relax and shower up. We grabbed a tasty lunch at the Flying Saucer where we had a couple local brews and then it was off to Austin. Can you tell we were excited?

Shockingly, the rest of our trip was drama-free. But, my God, what a trip! In the end, I don't think flying would have been the best choice for us. Even with our pricey brake repair, I think we still would have spent more. We would have had to buy last minute holiday tickets (because everything we do is last minute), so the cost would have been extraordinary.

I suppose the road trip was beneficial in more than one way. We're off on another epic road trip this Monday, and we're gonna need all the practice we can get...

-------------------------------

TRAVEL EXPENSES (or "Should We Have Flown?")

GAS

Sun 11/20: $21.18

Mon 11/21: $62.07

Tue 11/22: $46.07

Wed 11/23: $38.96

Thu 11/24: None

Fri 11/25: None

Sat 11/26: $89.86

Sun 11/27: $44.07

HOTEL

Sun 11/20: Free

Mon 11/21: $32.19

Tue 11/22: None

Wed 11/23: None

Thu 11/24: None

Fri 11/25: None

Sat 11/26: $32.19

Sun 11/27: Free

FOOD

Sun 11/20: None

Mon 11/21: $34.60

Tue 11/22: $44.73

Wed 11/23: $25.92

Thu 11/24: Free

Fri 11/25: Free

Sat 11/26: $12.25

Sun 11/27: $35.13

CAR MAINTENANCE

Sun 11/20: None

Mon 11/21: None

Tue 11/22: None

Wed 11/23: $19.49 (motor oil)

Thu 11/24: None

Fri 11/25: None

Sat 11/26: $573.18 (brakes; Rain-X)

Sun 11/27: None

TRIP TOTAL: $1111.89

TOTAL WITHOUT BRAKE FIX: $544.92

(because it needed to happen anyway...)

Dispatches from a Kia, Part III: Arriving at Destination

2011-12-02T10:34:00.000-05:00

Our drive to Michigan was nearly complete. The first and second legs were a great success. We only had six more hours of driving to go before we could relax on a comfy couch, watch TV on a flat screen the size of our bed and cuddle up with four of our favorite dogs.

We were up super early Wednesday morning to take our friend to the airport. Traffic was already building by 4:30am, but being the day before Thanksgiving, I guess I shouldn't complain. From there, however, it was smooth sailing. Fatigue aside (we may have purchased a bottle of NoDoz), we didn't hit any major road bumps (pun intended).

We were in Lapeer, Michigan before noon. We stopped off at the local Meijer to pick up some beer (Bell's Winter White Ale), then it was off to Pete's house, which we never left until our day of departure.

We spent the majority of our time sipping hot tea, napping, eating delicious meals courtesy of super-mom Fran and watching the cinematic gem, Wrong Turn 4: Bloody Beginnings. It was all about getting cozy and de-stressing.

We were exhausted.

Really exhausted.

Even the dogs got tired of being excited to see us:

Because our main man, Brutus is getting, like, really fat, we had to exclude him altogether from our twin bunk-bed (where he'll occasionally sleep) and force him onto the trundle. I think he still felt like he was part of the gang. Even though Pete and I are used to tight spaces, we still couldn't afford to squeeze that big guy into bed with us. In all honesty, I don't think he'd be able hop up onto our bed by himself anyway.

Thanksgiving was awesome. The usual fare was provided and it was positively splendid. The day was filled with family, football, over-eating, excessive drinking and gambling with pennies.

Pete shares the facts of life with nephew, Sam:

It's like a Christmas card...if we did Christmas cards:

Playing dice:

The whole crew gathers for a family photo. Rather shockingly, Mike awoke from his slumber to participate. Can you tell which one is Mike in this photo?:

Following tradition, Pete poses with his niece and nephew, Emily and Sam, for a staircase snapshot:

And to ensure that Brutus does not ever forget our oh-so-charming smells, we covered him in socks:

Our time in Michigan was short-lived, but it was well worth it in my opinion. I missed that place. It's hard to believe that the last time I was there, I had never even spent a night in an RV in my whole life.

TRAVEL EXPENSES (or "Should We Have Flown?")

GAS

Sun 11/20: $21.18

Mon 11/21: $62.07

Tue 11/22: $46.07

Wed 11/23: $38.96

Thu 11/24: None

Fri 11/25: None

HOTEL

Sun 11/20: Free

Mon 11/21: $32.19

Tue 11/22: None

Wed 11/23: None

Thu 11/24: None

Fri 11/25: None

FOOD

Sun 11/20: None

Mon 11/21: $34.60

Tue 11/22: $44.73

Wed 11/23: $25.92

Thu 11/24: Free

Fri 11/25: Free

CAR MAINTENANCE

Wed 11/23: $19.49 (motor oil)

TRIP TOTAL: $325.21

Dispatches from a Kia, Part II: Where It All Began

2011-12-01T12:37:00.001-05:00

After a restful night of sleep in Effingham, IL, Pete and I had to make a tough travel decision: to stop in Chicago for a brief visit, or bypass the city of our love's inception and head straight to Michigan. It's only a 3 1/2 hour drive to Chicago from Effingham - it would be perfect timing for lunch!

Cue: traffic. Four and a half hours later and we were off the highway! God, if I hear one more person in Austin tell me how bad traffic is, I'm gonna flip! A bunch of whiners in Texas, I'll tell ya.

Although it took us about an hour longer than anticipated, we were still in time for a tasty lunch. We hit up our favorite pizza joint and brewery: Piece.

Their pizza is the bomb and we've missed it immensely. Pete and I shared a large mushroom- so much pizza that we would have leftovers for dinner and breakfast the next morning.

Ol' pal, Jayve (who lived in the same apartment building as Pete and I) joined in on the pizza and beer extravaganza.

Seeing one awesome old friend got us thinking- why don't we see more awesome old friends? So, while Pete was taking a leak in Piece's potty, he made the executive decision to stay the night in Chicago and go meet up with folks we haven't seen in some time.

But first, a pit stop: to where it all began. We ventured over to our old hood, Logan Square, to revisit all the places that fostered our oh-so-saucy relationship.

First, we drove by Palmer Square Park, which was like a bitchin' extension of our front yard. I attempted to become fit by running around this park, but that quickly died after a handful of outings.

No phone calls on the road, dude.

Once we were parked outside our old stomping ground, we immediately paid tribute to the long-lost tire swing. Pete used to soar on that thing. He would get a good running start, get some air, and continue running back and forth a few times until he was so high that he would use his leg as a pendulum to keep momentum (and continue getting higher). It was insane.

I generally utilized the tire swing in different ways:

I got a message about a year ago informing me of the tire swing's demise. Thunderstorm. A sad moment in the history of our little hood, indeed. The tire swing became the 'cool spot' for all the neighborhood kids to hang out after school. It was a place for making out. It was the meet-up spot. A place to drink cheap beer. It was a place to play. I'm sad that she is no more...

The trampled ground from years of play remains!

We stopped at our front stoop and admired our former bungalow. Jayve (whom you saw in the picture from Piece) lived on the top floor. I was in the middle. And Pete was surviving in the seedy basement (not pictured).

I peeked inside (and may have checked the mail- is that a federal offense?) and noticed that it's a bit of a mess. There are no individual mail boxes at this place, so the mail just gets thrown everywhere in the doorway. In the past, I would try to keep things organized. The new tenants did not follow suit.

Pete's old apartment is super illegal. There was only one entrance, no heat in the winter, leaks from the ceiling, you name it. To enter, he had to walk or bike through the alleyway and use the back door (his only door). Like a giddy schoolgirl, I would listen for him to come home from work or school every night (before we were dating) and make up an excuse to go out onto the back porch, wherein I would catch Pete for an unexpected chat. I took out a lot of trash in those days.

We scoped out the backyard, which was one of our favorite summertime hangout spots. I met Pete the day I signed my lease for this place. He was taking a break from building a picnic table in the backyard. Who woulda thought!? That picnic table has seen a lot of crazy nights - and there are plenty of doodles on the wood to prove it. We loved it so much that when we moved, we disassembled it and brought to Michigan for Pete's family to enjoy.

Now the backyard houses a pile of wood. Very homey. One of the grills back there was Pete's. The table belonged to me. I left it with the assumption that it would be useful. Whoops.

We got a kick out of the garden that still remains. It was all Pete's. I think that big bushy thing is some forbidden Japanese fruit treat. Whoops.

After a bit more neighborhood exploration, we headed north to Lincoln Square to meet up with Pete's stepbrother, Jake, and his lady, Katie. Jake is a regional competitive eating superstar. You can check out some of his ridiculous eat feats here. I was hoping he would be joining us for Thanksgiving in Michigan (because I would take pleasure in watching him destroy some turkey), but instead they were staying in town to celebrate with Katie's parents and their two hilarious dogs.

Overbite extreme.

Our next two home visits were also in Lincoln Square, so it made for an easy commute between friends. First on the list was my favorite new homeowner, Brook and her soon-to-be husband, Intranig. Brook and I attempted to make ground-making music videos in college, but after an altercation with the Chicago Police Department, we came up with this:

(Brook and I are the female dancers. And we're awesome).

Brook and Intranig graciously invited us into their new, gorgeous home and liquored us up with beer and cocktails. But I failed to capture our rendezvous with a photo. Bummer. So here are before-and-after pictures of their home (they did all the work themselves...for the most part):

And here's a picture of Brook giving me a lap dance in college:

You're welcome, Brook.

So now that you know everything there is to know about my friend, Brook, we'll move on to Pete's former boss, Walt and his fabulous girlfriend, Jessie. Walt and Pete were a fearsome dynamic duo in the operations department of their university. They spent their days fixin' shit, setting up rooms and people watching on State Street. Not a bad gig. Why did we move again?

Walt with his ladies.

Toughest dudes I know.

These folks will always be a part of our lives, no matter where our Winnebago takes us. It's great to know we have such generous and welcoming friends all around the country. I feel bad, though, because so many people offered us a place to stay for the night, and right now, there's no way for us to return the favor (well, we could pull out the back bed, but it might get a little awkward). We plan on having a guest room one day, though. In the form of a VW Bus or something similar. I'm sure the requests will start pouring in when that happens...

So after our whirlwind day of friend-visiting, it was time to crash (we had to get up at 4am to take Jayve to the airport and thus, get a head start on the final leg of our drive). We stayed with my sister, Ashleigh, at our parents' South Loop condo. It's the coolest. Pete and I also lived there last summer and it was a great way to spend our final days in Chicago.

Here's a snapshot of Ashleigh, Pete and myself with none other than Molly and Josh enjoying an Easter brunch in the condo:

The floor to ceiling windows are pretty spectacular. And the views are killer!

Oh! And there's a pool! With an orthopedic chair!

My parents are thinking about selling this condo. Is it obvious that I'm trying to persuade them to hold onto it!?

-------------------------------

TRAVEL EXPENSES (or "Should We Have Flown?")

GAS

Sun 11/20: $21.18

Mon 11/21: $62.07

Tue 11/22: $46.07

HOTEL

Sun 11/20: Free

Mon 11/21: $32.19

Tue 11/22: None

FOOD

Sun 11/20: None

Mon 11/21: $34.60

Tue 11/22: $44.73

TRIP TOTAL: $240.84

Dispatches from a Kia, Part I: The Effin' Road Trip Begins

2011-11-30T12:33:00.000-05:00

Last week, Pete and I took off on an epic, week-long adventure in our (his) 1999 Kia Sephia. This sexy car followed Pete from Hawaii after his tenure in the Navy and has since crossed the country a number of times (including its journey from Michigan to Austin back in February). Ain't she the whip!?

We decided to spend Thanksgiving with Pete's lovely family in Michigan and in lieu of expensive, stressful air travel, we opted for a cheap, leisurely car ride. Great idea, right? It's only a 24-hour drive each way...

After so many successful road trips with the Kia, what could possibly go wrong with another 3,000 miles? Pete always tells me that the Kia is invincible. I had my doubts.

Because we would be away from our home for the week, we sent our infamous Winnebago off to our trusty mechanic to get worked on while we were away. We're got plans for her soon and she needs to be in tip-top shape!

But before we could drive the Winnie to the shop, we needed to do some serious packing. After a year of full-time habitation, things needed to be put back into safe storage areas to prevent anything from flying through the Winnie while driving. (It's happened. It's scary). The whole ordeal is way more work than you would think for such a small space. Like hours and hours of re-organization. We took everything out, donated some stuff, and then put everything back in a more sensible, efficient way.

The bed and our benches are the only places to put anything while we clean since we are seriously lacking in floor space:

Wine is an obvious cleaning necessity.

I think we did a pretty swell job. Hopefully everything will stay put for our next big Winnebago adventure...

After our cleaning frenzy on Sunday, Pete dropped me off at work then took off to the mechanic. Afterwards, he biked a few miles back to the RV park, grabbed the Kia and waited for me to finish work at 11pm. From there, our Thanksgiving journey began.

Exhausted, we hopped in the Kia and headed to our first stop: good ol' Dallas, TX. It's a mere three hour drive, but it was grueling. We were already pooped from the long, hot day of moving and grooving (cleaning, biking, working), so we really weren't prepared to drive (well, Pete drives. I provide company). We arrived in Dallas around 3am and were ready to hit the hay. Luckily, our first night was spent at the luxurious Hilton Anatole. And that shit was free!

It was my first night in a big awesome bed in quite some time so I melted into some heavy Zzz's. Although a 12-hour drive awaited us in the morning, we slept in fairly late and basked in the glory of the fancy, bug-free shower. And then we had some tea while we admired the room's "warm Asian influences."

We left sometime around noon, heading east through the rest of Texas. Our route brought us through all the same towns we stopped at on the way down to Austin in our Winnebago. Some of our most fond memories came from Greenville, TX, where we were stuck with a broken alternator for a few days.

We relied heavily on Greenville's NTB (National Tire & Battery), so we were tickled to see it as we drove by:

The same is true of Greenville's Walmart. We stayed a number of nights in that parking lot and often used their bathrooms before coming up with more clever ways to pee and poo inside the Winnebago.

Home Sweet Home

The drive started getting ugly as we approached Arkansas. Rain. And a lot of it. In fact, it rained the entire rest of our car ride on Monday. I'm fairly certain we saw more rain in that one day on the road than we've seen the entire past year in drought-ridden Austin. It was relentless.

We stopped for lunch in Texarkana, Arkansas- it's "Twice as nice!" We made a similar pit stop here last December in the Winnebago and decided to let history repeat itself. Except this time, we didn't almost break down in the middle of a busy intersection on our way to the Olive Garden.

Instead, we reliably drove through all busy intersections on the way to Olive Garden. Because who can pass up unlimited soup, salad and breadsticks?

It was a pleasant hour of feasting and relaxing. And a stellar way to escape the rain.

You got a little something on your lip.

We left the Olive Garden party in a state of utter lethargy. Difficult circumstances considering the remaining nine hours left to drive for the day. We pulled through with the assistance of copious cups of tea. Which led to copious bathroom breaks. My bladder is like the size of a pea. Pee pea?

Anyways, despite the rain and mild sleepiness, we made it to our destination for the evening: Effingham "Where the Eff are we?", IL. This wacky little town has special significance for us. It was where, at a Walmart parking lot, we spent our first night in the Winnebago. Ever.

So when I was planning our trip, I purposely booked a hotel (on discount!) in Effingham, IL. But first, we gassed up and played around with all the fun stuff at the gas station shop. This is, like, what they're known for or something.

And there are plenty of t-shirts, mugs, shot glasses and other chotchkies with Effingham's most prominent slogan:

"We stopped in Effingham, IL and all I got was this EFFIN' T-shirt."

Get it!? EFFIN'! Like the f-word. BWAHAHAHA!

-------------------------------

TRAVEL EXPENSES (or "Should We Have Flown?")

GAS

Sun 11/20: $21.18

Mon 11/21: $62.07

HOTEL

Sun 11/20: Free

Mon 11/21: $32.19

FOOD

Sun 11/20: None

Mon 11/21: $34.60

TRIP TOTAL: $150.04

The Super Monster

2011-11-17T20:36:00.002-05:00

A few weeks back, Pete and I joined buddies Molly and Josh for a lovely dining outing at Freebirds World Burrito. It's like a Chipotle with way more options and slightly less taste.

Pete went for the Super Monster, a seven-pound burrito stuffed with delicious meat, a variety of salsas and copious farts. I opted for the smallest burrito, the Hybrid, which is a much more reasonable size, no?

So how'd we do?? Embarrassingly, my stomach forced me to surrender to my bitty burrito and wrap the butt of it up for leftovers. Pete, however, did surprisingly well.

He came close to completing that massive missile of Mexican, but he wisely decided to leave a little bit behind for breakfast the next morning.

I'm glad he ate as much as he did (despite the tummy woes that followed), because if the remainder was any larger, then it wouldn't have fit in our Winnebago's measly fridge.

Keeping My Veteran Classy

2011-11-15T10:47:00.000-05:00

Pete is one bad-ass veteran. He lived under the ocean for like, five years, fixing diesel engines, traveling the underbelly of the world and fermenting booze in ketchup bottles. Submariners are a special breed, that's for sure.

So for Veteran's Day (after Pete came home from a super long day of work), I took Pete to the most fitting place I could think of to honor his service: Hooters. Because nothing says "Thank You Veterans" better than free wings, hot pants and tube socks.

I'm Glad It's Your Birthday

2011-11-10T18:26:00.000-05:00

Pete hates birthdays. Which is why I've spent the last three years trying to perfect the casual, no-big-deal (but HEY! It's your birthday!) birthday for Pete.

Pete celebrated his 29-going-on-19th birthday on Sunday. And no, I didn't give him a gift. Because, like, we don't do that. Instead, I took the day off work. And we spent the whole day together. All 25 hours of it! Savin' daylight and celebratin' births!

To start things off right, we grabbed lunch at Shady Grove with ol' girl Leslie, whom we've missed ever since she and her fabulous husband, Kerry, scurried off to Salt Lake City. Leslie, who we first met when we were neighbors at the RV park, is now a super smart Humanities professor at a university in Utah. What you know about the relevance of Nineteenth-century mathematics and narrative realism in Dickens' novels, yo!? Yea, that's what I thought...

Anyways, Pete was absolutely thrilled to be another year older:

He loves me.

In all honesty, though, we couldn't be more happy to have some time with Leslie. I just can't get enough of her:

Trying to absorb her smartness through osmosis.

After leaving the restaurant, we spotted an old Proletariat (Kerry's clothing/graffiti company) sticker, covered up by some shmucky band poster. I ripped that crap down and Leslie posed for a picture with her man.

thatsthehookup.com

Next, after meeting up with our favorite pals, Molly and Josh and their lovely pitbull, Gremlin, we headed over to Republic Square Park for Pitbull Awareness Day. Gremlin was so overwhelmed with all the dog pee smells, that she just didn't know what to do with herself.

In Love-A-Bull's record-breaking effort towards the world's largest gathering of pitbull-type dogs, Gremlin represented the 304th attendee. And she was definitely a fan favorite. She's got the best ears.

Later, we headed over to Molly and Josh's house where they made us a lovely dinner and secretly baked a birthday cake, managing to keep Pete in the living room throughout the process. It was beautiful. And then we destroyed it.

And of course, a good birthday dinner isn't complete without a show. Cirque De Pitbulleil, ladies and gentlemen:

Out With the Old -- In With the New

2011-11-02T20:49:00.000-04:00

Yea, yea. It's been a while. I know. But we're back in full swing and we're making changes, y'all!

In with: A new bed! A big-kid bed! You remember our old bed, right? The lumpy futon mattress we used to slumber upon down in Pete's moldy-ass basement? The one Pete chopped up and sewed back together with dental floss so as to fit our teeny-weeny Winnie bed frame? What a freakin' delight she was:

We felt no sympathy or remorse in her disposal. In fact, we were overcome with elation!

So long restless nights, sore backs and endless fluffing! Who knew we could find night-time bliss from a $249 roll-out IKEA mattress? For reals? We could've bought that sucker, like, nine months ago. What the hell were we thinking all this time?

Whatever. It's awesome.

Out with: Summer. Hot damn! What a loathsome 5+ months that was. You start acting delusional when every single day looks like this:

90 sweltering days over 100 degrees. Horrible. The best word I can use to describe this nonsense: sticky. Especially as a bike rider. Very uncomfortable commutes to and from work. Entering 'the outside' was like standing in an oven surrounded by 15 diesel engines with a hair dryer in your face.

We chose possibly the worst year in history to move to Texas: coldest winter in 20 years; hottest summer...ever; most severe drought. You know you're tough as shit when you can survive Chicago winters in an un-heated basement and Austin winters in a broke-ass Winnebago. Bring it on Mother Nature!

Good news is: the weather's fabulous now! While the Halloween snow fell on the east coast, we've been basking in the glory of 82 degrees, cool breezes and perfect sunshine. How pleasant it is to enjoy the outdoors again! Open windows! Fresh air! Oh, how we've missed you!

A 'cold front' comes through tomorrow. Shocking how downright chilly 69 degrees can feel. Oh, and there's a chance of rain. Let's be serious...

In with: New skillets!

Pretty neat. Except, they're not necessarily that much better. Sure, our sunny-side up eggs cease to stick in the morning. But damn, my cheap-ass pan-I've-had-since-I-was-a-freshman cooked a killer quesadilla. I think we're just going through an 'adjustment' phase.

Out with: Paper towels. Yea, you heard me. Can we get more stereotypically hippie? But while Pete was perusing beds at Ikea the other day, he spotted a bin of cheap dish towels and decided to buy 21 (excessive?) of them. Napkins, rags, dusters, you name it. These bad boys can do it all!

And you know what? Mother Earth wins! Comedian Jim Gaffigan points out the obvious flaw: "I guess we should know paper towels are bad for the environment. They do have a lumberjack on the label."

(Listen to the whole bit below)

Recycling

Out with: After School. In with: Working from home! So I quit my job as an After School Site Director. Yea, yea. I'm failing our children. Sorry about that. But the hour commute (bike and bus) each way, only to work for 3.75 hours was becoming draining and illogical. When all the extra time, effort and bus fare was put into account, I was making around $7 an hour. I was fairly certain I could do better.

So now I'm rocking additional hours working at the hotel (a rival to the hotel chain my dad spent 35 of his years working for). And I'm also an employee for a work-from-home (totally-not-a-scam-I-hope) job. Now, Pete and I are both contract employees for the same company. Can you believe it?

I've coined myself The Work-From-Winnebago Woman. And I'm thrilled! Nothing better than sitting in my jammies, sipping some Carlo Rossi and raking in the big (err...mid-sized) bucks!

I'm sure there are more exciting updates waiting for us in the future. Solar panels? Storage additions? Plumbing upgrades? Maybe we'll even get to pee and poo like normal people!

Our Winniversary!

2011-09-20T10:45:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, Pete and I celebrated our one year anniversary as homeowners. Unfortunately, having this celebration in our home was not really an option for the Winnie's power had been dead (fried) for nearly three weeks and Austin's high temperature was still hitting 104.

Pete came home from work (a whole three weeks away!) late Thursday night, and instead of trying to fix the Winnie's problem then, or tough it out in a steamy metal box for the night, we decided to bask in the glory of a cheap hotel room for the night. And we dined on greasy pizza and super cheap wine. And it was stellar.

We get back to the Winnebago early Friday morning and whatdayaknow? Pete fixes the damn problem in five minutes. AC's back on. Refrigerator's working. Lights! When Pete looks in the electrical box, he sees positives, negatives and grounds. When I look in there, it's like a tangled mess of Medusa's hair. Electrical shit just turns me to stone.

Oh, What a Year It's Been...

2011-09-15T21:05:00.002-04:00

One year ago today, Pete and I ventured out to Warrenville, IL to check out a 1985 Winnebago Lesharo that had been sitting in a driveway for two years. The previous owner initially purchased it as a getaway for his tiny rat terrier. Little did that Lesharo know what she had coming...

Today, Pete and I celebrate our one year anniversary as wacky homeowners. A tremendous moment, indeed!

And how will we celebrate and honor our beloved Winnebago, you ask? By spending the night in a hotel! You see, our power converter fried (again) about three weeks ago. Normally, the man would promptly get his tools out and fix the damn thing. But Pete, being the busy-bee that he is, has been out of Austin for three weeks working his ass off. So, the Winnie's just been sitting and baking in the 100-degree sun ever since. What...you expect ME to fix it!? I'm obviously the useless one around here.

This year has been a wild and amazing adventure that we wouldn't trade for the world. And sure, we've had our fair share of ups and downs. I mean, living in a teeny tiny Winnebago isn't easy, and it's definitely not for everyone. But we've managed to keep on rocking. And we love it!

So, who's ready for memory lane, eh?? Let's take a look back at some of our favorite Winnebago moments:

Purchased! Awaiting auto insurance in Warrenville, IL.

Marty McFly straight chillin' on the streets of Chicago.

Michigan maintenance. Pete fixes up ol' Winnie at his parents' house whilst I stand around a look pretty.

Pete builds our bed! The mattress is made from the futon we used to sleep on in Chicago.

I KILLED TURKEYS!!! Rather, Pete killed them. But I did touch (and eat) them...

Day of departure. So long, Pure Michigan®.

Hellllo road trip!

Turkey sandwiches. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

God bless Walmart parking lots. And the People of Walmart, too.

What, you've never shit in a bag??

Marty McFly arrives in Austin!

We used to sleep on the streetz!

Our house becomes a home.

Austin Blizzard 2011!

A little fixin' to keep her moving and grooving.

Taking her for a ride.

Ahhh, memories! Here's to another great year of adventure and mayhem! We haven't a clue what the future has in store for us, but I assure you, it won't be average. Thanks to all who've been keeping up with us this past year! We love sharing our lives with you. Even all the parts when we talk about poop.

Mobile Home

2011-09-05T13:56:00.002-04:00

We've officially been Winnebago residents for almost nine months now and honestly, we've become a bit sedentary.

Initially, we planned to boondock all around Austin, parking on various available streets and showering at the YMCA. Well, we lucked out when we nabbed a cheap "temporary" spot at the most convenient RV park in Austin. I guess they like us, because they haven't kicked us out yet...

Early on, before Pete retrieved his car from Michigan, our Winnebago was a bit more mobile. We took it out for larger grocery trips and occasionally, Pete would pick me up from work in it, a rather comical site at a middle school.

With the addition of the car, the Winnebago tended to stay put (save our big "move"), comfortable in it's parking spot home. Our mobile home had become anything but mobile.

So it was certainly a surprise when, during a mundane Saturday-night shift at the hotel, I received a text from Pete that read:

"I'm outside on the curb with the winnie."

NO WAY!

I run outside in my stupid sweater vest. It's 100 degrees. And sure enough, the Winnebago is just down the street. Pete's inside, drinking a Shiner Boch. And it's thrilling! We had forgotten just how cool it is to be able to move our house wherever we want.

And you know what else we had forgotten about? The parking break. When Pete initially pulled into the parking spot, he neglected to engage the parking break (we have no "park" gear). When he exited, the Winnie started rolling down a hill towards an unsuspecting car. So Pete, while fumbling for the door key, had to run after our house, quickly unlock the door, hop in and pull the parking break before it slammed into said car. Thankfully, all was well.

Now that I've become sufficiently excited, I rush back inside, close up my section as fast as I could and got the heck outta there. It's a Winnebago street party!

It was a bit warm inside, without AC and a serious lack of airflow. But we were pumped up on Winnebago adrenaline, so we didn't care.

And look! A bus in our 'backyard':

Being back on the mean streets of Austin certainly fueled our desire to start traveling around again.

Ultimate freedom! We can live anywhere we want! Well, anywhere that's not on a steep mountain...and doesn't get snow...and where it's not too rainy...or too rocky...

I guess we'll just stick with Texas for now.

Hey There, Old Friends!

2011-08-09T23:59:00.005-04:00

Pardon me for the impromptu, unannounced, month-long blog hiatus. It’s not my fault Xfinity added every episode of The Wire to its online database…

Overall, the last month has been fairly uneventful and increasingly calculated. Pete travels out of town for work on Sunday nights, works his ass off all week, then returns home late Friday night where we are reunited in the warmth of his exhaustion.

We always try to do 'something' on the weekends, which usually end up looking like this:

Bike somewhere.

Admire sunset.

Remain sweaty all evening.

On FIRE

Take a small nap at table.

Remain asleep while posing for a picture.

Go home early and pass out.

Ok, it's not that severe. But we are pretty heinous at going out. Honestly, we'd prefer to just hang out with each other at home. I get this idea in my head that we need to 'go out' because that's what people do on the weekends, but we always have a better time chilling in the Winnebago. It's way cheaper and far more relaxing. And these days, Pete needs as much rest as he can get.

To give you an idea of the hours he's pulling: think of the typical work week; double that; then add ten more hours. It's intense.

I, on the other hand, do a lot more dicking around. Mostly indoor activities because Texas is, like, really hot in the summer. Time sure does fly when you exhaust all the decent movies on XfinityTV and read every single post on Hipster Puppies.

Sure, I work too. Around 25 hours a week. And most nights, it's not very lucrative because 1.) I work at a restaurant and restaurants pay below minimum wage; and 2.) I work at a hotel restaurant in Austin, TX- a freaking gem of a foodie town. Who the hell wants to eat the grub from the hotel kitchen? Actually, the food's not too shabby, but that's besides the point.

The point is: I make far below the poverty line, pay every single one of Pete and I's bills/expenses and still put money into savings at the end of the month. Sure, we make a lot of sacrifices for our low cost of living that many would turn their noses at: small living quarters; spiders in the bathroom; no immediately accessible running water; a tiny fridge; washing dishes with squirt bottles; handling our own urine disposal. (I'm sorry, I've been drinking...).

But, by golly, I just love this lifestyle. Simple. Stress free. Healthy. Sustainable.

So why the hell is Pete working like a dog? Well, just because we live like trailer trash doesn't mean we don't have dreams, man! Every penny Pete makes is going straight to savings (not stocks!) for our future endeavors. And we have big plans! In fact, exciting news is on the horizon, but you'll just have to wait for that announcement. (Don't tell anyone Mom!).

I think the best part of the past month was my mini-vacation to Dallas. I know, I know. You're thinking, "Dallas? Really?" I thought the same thing. But as a Hilton employee, I scored a free hotel room at the HUGE Hilton Anatole and it was worth every step I had to take to get to it in the 110 degree heat.

Already approaching 95 degrees at 8:30am, I enjoyed a sweaty walk to the Amtrak station in Austin. The six-hour train ride was rather pleasant. This other chick and I shared an entire car to ourselves for almost three hours. I made myself quesadillas for the trip and they were delicious. I listened to two-year-old playlists on the iPod I forgot I owned while gazing out the window at the barren, drought-ridden Texas countryside. I told myself before the trip that I would see a Winnebago Lesharo...and, no shit, I did! I could have just stopped right there, claiming the train ride as my vacation, because truly, it was great to just 'get out' for a small while.

I arrived in Dallas and, I'll be damned, it was hotter than hell! I could have easily just hopped in a cab to get to the hotel, but I was determined to use public transit.

Waiting 25 minutes for the train...

Though steamy and a bit of a wait, the train was as simple as most and it only cost me $1.75. Afterwards I had about a mile walk to the hotel which truly sucked (although, I love a good challenge). Dallas is 100% unfriendly to pedestrians. You are expected to drive. I walked in a ditch along the side of a major road, part of which was muddy. Good thing I had a sun-brella with me!

I checked in to the hotel and got to the room, which was lovely, especially for the price!

The only negative was the view. I suppose they reserve these interior rooms for "team members-who-don't-pay-shit-to-stay-here-so-they-won't-mind-if-their-window-faces-the-hallway."

And I'd have to agree. I didn't have much care for a view. I was more interested in immediately getting my booty to the pool bar. Four-for-the-price-of-two screwdrivers later and I was ready for Pete's arrival.

He got in late, but we still made the most of our hotel. Rather than venturing out into the city (we're usually pro-city exploring, but here we were just looking for a retreat), we opted for one of the Hilton's restaurants. I suppose people do want to eat at hotels from time to time...

The Media Bar and Grill was the bomb. Awesome crab dip (I know, I'm from Maryland. It's blasphemy to get crab anywhere else!), a phenomenal halibut sandwich and a tasty spiced Moroccan beef salad. Yum yum. Oh, and a bottle of wine. Of course.

The rest of the evening we spent perusing the hotel. That place is like an Asian history museum. A plethora of artifacts, sculptures and paintings adorn the hallways. There are a lot of Buddhas:

And comically-sized chairs too:

What's great about the Winnebago lifestyle is that it totally ups your appreciation for the little things. For instance, messaging bars of soap:

For real!?

Perhaps the most rewarding part of the trip (besides being with my main man) was the oh-so luxurious bed. Pete and I sleep on a futon mattress that we cut and sized to fit Pete's homemade bed frame. I actually really enjoy our bed and find it rather comfortable. But in comparison to a hotel bed, that futon is like lying on a stack of lumpy Beanie Babies. Bring on the king-sized comfort!

I assure you that I'm wearing a red sweater in this photo.

Freedom from Fireworks!

2011-07-06T16:25:00.000-04:00

There were a lot of crotchety Texans traipsing about this weekend, disappointed by Austin's (and much of the state's) lack of Independence Day fireworks. You know, because America isn't free until we start blowing shit up.

It was quite a stark contrast from the war-zone that is Chicago every July 3rd and 4th. The following video pretty much sums it up:

Pete and I celebrated America by celebrating each other; you know, since we only see each other on the weekends these days. Basically, we crammed as many date-like activities as possible into the crevices of time when I wasn't working.

We started at our favorite Sunday early-afternoon spot, Kung Fu Saloon. With over a dozen vintage arcade games, build-your-own Bloody Mary's and $1 mimosas, there's really not much to hate (until about 3pm when all the douchey people show up).

Sunday's are free-play game days, so we don't have to feel guilty about playing Ms. Pacman for approximately an hour. Pete's a rock star at most of the shooting/driving games. I'm surprisingly stellar at ski ball (I pocket 100's like it's my day job; and I don't even have a day job!).

Here I am with my balls:

Pete's jealous of my skillzz:

The Bloody Mary's are killer. We basically load our's with as many food items as possible in order to take care of breakfast:

Unfortunately, we had to rush outta there so I could go to work. But Monday proved to be an eventful day. First, we hit the lake for an afternoon of canoeing. I didn't take any pictures during our trip, but imagine the photo below with about a hundred more boats, blaring sunshine and thousands of dead fish flies in the water.

It was lovely and relaxing and magical and sun burnt.

Afterwards, we rested up for some Peter Pan Mini Golf. We biked; It was 101 degrees; The sun was still striking with all its force; And our only beverage choice: beer.

It was both fun and not fun at the same time. In retrospect, it was a hilarious time. But when my entire body was dripping sweat and I didn't have a place to set my beer or score card and I could not for the life of me get that damn ball in that damn whale's mouth...it got a little frustrating.

Pete, spending most of his time laughing at me and hitting hole-in-ones, had some excellent putter/beer coordination.

I preferred to hang out with the pirate...

Obviously, I'm not a golfer. Pete won fair and square. Somewhat mysteriously, however, I "lost" the score card in transit to our next stop and now Pete won't let me live it down. He won by a lot, in case you care.

Sweaty as ever, we jump on our bikes and ride entirely uphill to Woodland for dinner. We may be trailer trash, but we sure do love a fancy meal from time to time. Especially on half-price-bottle-of-wine night.

After stuffing ourselves on fried corn bread balls, stuffed tomato, salmon and pinot grigio, we embark on a much more pleasant downhill ride to the Congress Ave. bridge to catch the bats. Austin is home to America's largest urban bat colony: Each night at dusk, some 1.5 million bats emerge from the crevices below the bridge on a food feeding frenzy that blackens the sky.

Shockingly, we had never gone to see the bats before. We live only a mile down the street. And the hotel I work at is literally steps from the bridge. Yet we never went to check them out before. It was one of those, "I live here, I can go some other time" things.

And you know what: we were late! Yea, we still saw some bats underneath us. But the massive swarm was nowhere to be found. Oops. Another time, I suppose...

At least we caught a pretty sassy sunset. Now there's some freaking freedom, folks...

Chill Out

2011-06-30T13:47:00.001-04:00

It's hotter than hell in Texas, but we can't tell now that we've got a kickin' new air conditioner! If you read the previous post, you'd know that: 1. Pete is a master of tools and 2. We decided to get a new AC unit. Two years my elder, our 26-year-old air conditioner was ready for retirement.

We drove three hours to Houston to pick up our twice-as-powerful AC, saving us $125+ in shipping costs. The next day, our buddy Josh (of the infamous Molly & Josh), assisted Pete with the installation while Molly and I drank beers.

First, Pete had to take down the old guy, which was quite a bicep workout: 3 foot-long bolts hold the rather heavy lower unit in place.

Showing off his ingenuity, Pete uses his head to keep the lower part from crashing down. (To be fair, I did offer to hold it up, but Pete politely implied that I probably wasn't strong enough...)

Next, without me even knowing about it, Pete climbed on the roof of the Winnie, crawling under a sagging, somewhat-stripped-of-insulation power line and removed the 100 pound upper unit. With his giant man-muscles, he carried it down from the roof and set it on the ground. He came back into the Winnebago, sweating and flustered. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, laughing.

With good reason, Pete didn't tell me he was taking care of AC business by himself. I tend to stand around and freak out in such situations, which is generally annoying and unproductive. (I recall doing just that during all those piano moves back in Chicago).

So anyways, it's out with the old and in with the new:

Shiny!

When Josh arrived, the men devised a plan of attack to get the bigger, heavier unit onto the roof without permanently damaging anyone or anything.

Pete stood on the roof and Josh, with his giant man-muscles, lifted the AC up the ladder by himself, handing it to Pete who positioned it in place.

After sawing out a little extra room for the slightly-larger AC unit, Pete shimmied it into the proper spot and sealed it up.

The lower unit and cover were put on from the inside and within no time, we were blowing cold air again! Another great benefit? It's white! (As opposed to the dull, sickly yellow we were rockin' before).

Another successful Winnebago project! I feel spoiled staying so cool when other folks' AC units can't keep up in this wicked heat. But it really doesn't take much to keep a 120-square-foot box cold...

Mr. Fix-It

2011-06-26T23:55:00.000-04:00

It's really no secret that Pete is a mechanical genius. The man can fix just about anything with a screwdriver, wrench and/or duct tape. I'm fairly certain that we'd still be stuck in Greenville, TX without Pete's superior understanding of tools.

Just take a look at all of Pete's bad-ass, do-it-yourself accomplishments since we've hit the road:

1. Installing solar panels whilst driving to keep our battery from dying after our alternator broke.

2. Replacing our alternator like a pro! (After days of being stuck in Greenville).

3. Changing oil like a G.

4. Tinkering around under the hood. Like a G!

5. Fixing our much-needed space heater during Texas' coldest winter in 20 years.

6. Adding an extremely useful basket to my bike!

7. Replacing spokes. Many spokes.

8. Assisting in our total engine upgrade with our mechanic.

9. Installing sophisticated solar panel systems after completing his first course in solar school.

10. And saving a turtle. Like a G!!

And the list goes on!

Pretty impressive, eh? I don't mean to brag, but my boyfriend is pretty stellar. He's just like MacGyver, only without the mullet. Kinda.

So a couple of weeks ago, within 30 minutes of Pete's return from the airport, our air conditioner stopped working. Oh crap. That's just not gonna fly in 105 degrees. After a little investigating, we find out that our AC unit is just fine; However, our inverter/charge controller/converter/AC-panel unit (which runs all of our AC-powered appliances, such as our air conditioner) is fried. Literally.

Smelled like burning electricity

Well, what does Pete do?? The next day (after a sticky-night's sleep), he gets under the damn table and FIXES IT!!

Basically, he rebuilt the entire thing. He took the whole panel and unit out, cleaned it, rewired certain parts and replaced any burnt wires. Sure, plugging it back in was slightly scary. But it worked! And we didn't have to spend $275 to get a new one!

Afterwards, the air conditioner was working even better than before. Stronger, colder and more efficient. Awesome, right?

Then about a week later, Pete's in Arizona and I'm too cold one morning in the Winnebago. The AC was kicking. So, I turn it off and enjoy a little break from the constant flow of chilled air. By noon, it's 100 degrees and it's time to cool off. Well, I go to turn on the AC and I hear a noise that can only be described as something that sounds broken.

Oh CRAP. Using the scientific method, I deduce that the AC is no longer blowing cold air. It's making noise, so obviously it's receiving power (Pete's previous project still proving to be a success!), but, like a worn out prostitute, it no longer has the gusto to blow.

What to do!? Mr. Fix-It is away on business and I certainly have no business tinkering around with electrical components. So after work, instead of suffering through an uncharacteristically hotter-than-normal evening, I spent the night at Molly and Josh's. To be honest, I felt a little defeated. It was the first night I hadn't slept in the Winnebago since Christmas Eve. But yea, it was pleasant...

Pete was flying back the next night so I knew we'd figure out some way to cope by bedtime. Thanks be to the Honky Tonk gods, our neighbor, local country star, Teri Joyce had an old window AC unit hanging around that she graciously let us use so long as we promised not to bring it back.

With the help of her next door neighbor, Austin (there are a lot of men named Austin who live in Austin), we brought Teri's unit over to the Winnie where I ingeniously rigged a temporary cooling station. Ta daaa:

The air conditioner sat on the floor, sticking out of the doorway. Since the door had to remain open, I hung the trusty zodiac sign tapestry (which has been hanging around my living spaces since 2006) to keep the moderately-cool air in and the steamy, hot air out. It pseudo-worked. Definitely much cooler than outside (if you stood right in front of the dang thing). Definitely not permanent.

Pete most likely chuckled at my adorable attempt to keep the place cool when he got home from the airport. We (read: he) immediately got to work acquiring tools from the deep recesses of our bed to configure the AC unit in the window...where it belonged.

After a little finagling of a ratchet strap, the AC unit was firmly in place and keeping us slightly more moderately-cool than before.

It was great for sleeping, actually. Being right next to our bed, we were kept quite cold at nighttime. By midday, though, it just wasn't powerful enough to keep up with the Texas heat. Better than nothing, I suppose.

Of course, the next morning, Pete opened the roof cover, turned the rotor one rotation, and our regular AC unit was back to work. A few days later, I turned the AC off again (I chill easily). When I wanted it back on, whatta ya know? No cold air. Pete had to use a long bamboo rod to get the fan going this time. I guess the key was to never turn it off. Ever...

...Which is why we bought a brand new rooftop air conditioner. We've been saying for months now that if ever our 26-year-old AC broke, we wouldn't put any money into fixing it and instead, just buy a new one. So we did. There's only so much fixing one man can do.

Except when it comes to breakfast. Pete can always fix a mean breakfast...

YUM

No Viva Las Vegas

2011-06-16T11:36:00.001-04:00

Last week, Pete scurried off to Vegas for work...but not without some drama, of course.

No, no. It's not what you're thinking. He didn't get married or start a fight or lose a million dollars. (Although, one of his co-workers was extremely close to drunkenly tying the knot). In fact, Pete's predicament was far more serious. Deadly, even.

Enter: The Black Widow.

BAHHH!!

What a way to ruin a trip to Vegas, huh!? He was bit on the top of his foot and immediately we knew from the swelling that this was probably not so good. Pete rarely has issues when it comes to bugs, so the fact that he was dragging around an excessively fat foot meant he should most likely seek medical attention. (I would just like to add now that I formally take back all my previous complaints about receiving copious amounts of bug bites all the damn time).

Sexy.

VERY sexy.

Before his first full day of work, Pete goes to the doctor, who was shocked that he could even stand. It was confirmed that he was, in fact, bitten by a black widow spider. He was given a prescription for a 4-pill-a-day, 10-day-long, make-you-nauseous anti-venom. Why the doctor does not have this anti-venom in the office is beyond me (you'd think that a deadly spider bite would facilitate a greater sense of urgency and perhaps a treatment could be delivered from within the doctor's office...).

Facing a lack of time, Pete doesn't fill his prescription until after his 8-hour work day. Luckily, the drugs seemed to work just fine. The swelling went down after a couple days and he'll be finished with his pills today.

Viva Las Vegas.

RV love in Vegas

But the drama doesn't end there, folks.

Originally, Pete's trip was scheduled for only a few days, but after they arrived, it got extended for an extra week. And with a quick phone call, Pete was able to finagle his own room for the remainder of the stay at the Luxor.

So obviously I bought a non-refundable ticket to Vegas.

Oh boy, I was jazzed. I hadn't been to Vegas since I was like eight (where my sister and I spent most of our time making popsicle stick houses in the day care center while our parents gambled the night away). It was time for big-girl Kara to tear up the town. And now, Pete's beer wouldn't go to waste! (He bought a bit for his room on the first day, but later found out he couldn't drink on his anti-venom).

Well, what do you know. Pete finds out on Friday that he's coming home that night. Great. I mean...awesome! I get to see my boyfriend. That's fabulous. But I just spent a shit ton of cash on a useless plane ticket. I thought about just going, but where the hell would I stay? The airport?

In the end, I suppose I SAVED money. Get this logic: I clearly would have spent a decent amount of money in Vegas (I'm a pretty cheap date, but still). AND, I picked up four extra shifts at work. So win-win??? Right!?

VIVA LAS VEGAS, dammit.

Looking for a Tiny Tit??

2011-06-10T07:53:00.002-04:00

Well, apparently, you've come to the right place!

Someone's "tiny tit" Google search has led to our blog:

I also take pleasure in the fact that someone else out there has dealt with the "vomit in heating vent" situation.

Winnebago Lesharo 1985 sucks!

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

2011-06-06T16:28:00.002-04:00

Last night, about a dozen folks from the RV park gathered for a lovely BBQ. Being the oblivious assholes that we are, Pete and I had no idea that we were sitting next to a TV game show legend the entire night:

Chuck Woolery, the original host of Wheel of Fortune and also known for such gems as The Dating Game and Love Connection was planted next to me for a solid 2 1/2 hours. Sure, we chatted. And then I eavesdropped on his conversation about dating a 19 year old he met at the Playboy Mansion. But in reality, I was clueless.

It was only after he left that we were informed of his mild fame. And now I feel like such a jerk for not knowing. He even introduced himself as "Chuck Woolrey," like I was supposed to know. I blame my youth.

Now, if Matthew McConaughey was still living here, you'd better believe I'd know what's up...

Nine's a Crowd

2011-06-03T00:33:00.005-04:00

It was undoubtedly a shock to many when first finding out that Pete and I were permanently moving into a 21-foot RV. I'm fairly certain that my mother believed we were just taking a quick road trip to Austin, where we would immediately move into a more spacious apartment. I assure you that I would not drop $1900 on a rig, $1691 on parts and $499 on gas for a measly 1440 mile road trip...

Sure, it's cramped. We hit our heads quite a bit (although the frequency has decreased drastically since the date of purchase back in September). We've truly learned to enjoy our twin-sized futon mattress bed (my apologies to Pete for all those nights I stab my knees into his back!).

Magic happens here?

Our sitting area is actually quite comfortable- it functions as our office, dinette, entertainment center, breakfast nook, nap zone...whatever. We each have our own bench equipped with pillows and any of our individual crap we decide to be lazy about.

Who doesn't love a mechanic's towel privacy curtain?

The bathroom scenario is anything but a problem- we just pee in front of each other (that's when you know it's true love!). And true true love is all about the 'number 2' chit-chat, which we've also mastered...

The tightest, most uncomfortable area of our Winnebago is the space between our kitchenette area and our closet.

Tight squeeze...

Say, for instance, that Pete is cooking and I'm sitting on my bench blogging or something. If I want to blow my nose, I have to shimmy behind him, being careful not to push him into a hot stove or smear my back with the contents of our trash bag. Luckily, as a couple, I can use this opportunity to grab his butt and move on...

Next door, however, is an entirely different story.

For the past week, a group of nine sweaty, British BMX bikers have been camping (cramping?) in a rented Chateau motorhome. I know this is the sort of thing the English and Irish like to partake in when they visit the States (when I worked at Navy Pier, four of my Irish coworkers lived with 19 other Irish folks in a five bedroom apartment), but I can only imagine the offensive odors that have embedded themselves into the vehicle's interior since the start of their journey in Illinois.

Can you find all the BMX bikes??

With lack of romantic chemistry, how do these boys manage to navigate those inevitable squeezes? That motorhome is designed to comfortably house four adults and four children. Where are they all sleeping? It's gotta be three-to-a-bed over there. And they seem to always be trotting about in filth-ridden shorts or loosely-strewn towels. They don't seem to care about covering up for their neighbors (I was accidentally mooned yesterday), let alone each other.

The whole situation reminds me of that scene from Now and Then when the girls catch the Wormers nakedly splashing about in a lake together. Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about:

Devon Sawa butt anyone?

I'll never quite get this sort of male camaraderie. But, I must say, it is rather adorable. I can only imagine the shenanigans Pete and his old Navy buddies used to get into. These smelly British bikers probably seem like a joke to them. I wonder if they've been trying to hook up with any girls and what that whole situation entails. What if every one of them wants to bring a chick home for the night; can you imagine!?

Anyways, the Brit's mobile man cave is ridiculous. I can tolerate quite a bit these days, but I can't fathom sharing such a small space with eight other dudes (wait, that last sentence makes me sound like I'm a dude...). You get the idea.

I suppose those stinky Englishmen have given me a greater sense of appreciation for my own living situation (the space I occupy and the person I share it with). I am so wickedly happy in our little Lesharo. We've got all the space we need...and then some. In fact, we've actually discussed downgrading to a smaller, more inconspicuous cargo van (with a better engine, of course). Then we can park anywhere!

When we are ready to sprawl, we want to spend our money on land: to build a farm, a bed and breakfast, a vineyard, a tree house...

Where in the World is Pete??

2011-05-21T14:33:00.013-04:00

He's up in the sky, actually. This week, Pete's been Googling about in Tokyo, training non-English speakers the glories of his job. He's on his way home as I write.

Google must love Pete: upon arrival, he figured out how to take the bus from the airport to the hotel, saving Google a $270 cab ride. He's also just a super competent human being.

He watched five movies while in flight including Inglorious Bastards, during which I like to imagine a little girl sitting next to Pete, her face in utter horror as she witnesses the movie's gratuitous violence.

For their first night, the group ventured out to a "point-to-something-on-the-menu"-style dinner. Pete writes,

Dinner, what an experience! I didn't have any problem, but the picky eaters were fu**ed. We had no clue what was what on the menu. We ate BBQ skewers of chicken gizzard, chicken tail, and chicken skin. We also had some fresh sashimi. I ate the whole shrimps and everybody got grossed out because I sucked out the heads. A little gooey, but similar to raw oysters. We also had a ramen dish cooked at our table. There was some sort of mystery meat in it so everyone was turned off to it. Brian and I wanted to get the horse tar tar, but it was too large for the two of us and nobody would have been able to stomach us eating it.

Pete's first day of work was a challenge, what with the language barrier and jet lag. Afterwards, the Japanese team took the American guys out to a traditional dinner:

We had to take our shoes off and leave them outside the dining room. Was a pretty wild experience. After, they took us shopping because a few guys wanted to buy things. Me, I am on the hunt for tea. I have not found exactly what I am looking for and my Japanese coworkers tell me to go to the fish market.

This is approximately Pete's 5th time in Japan, but his first as a civilian. (Maybe one day we'll recount Pete's running-from-the-cops-in-Tokyo story). Everywhere he goes, his team is mystified by his enthusiasm for absorbing culture. With the opportunity for worldwide travel for free (well, for profit, actually), why wouldn't you take it all in? After I presumed that many of his teammates were probably frequenting McDonald's, he replied,

Yea, you hit it right on the money. Peeps are killing the Mc D's left and right. It bothers me that people would...not consider culture. I don't understand their logic. Some of the guys are realizing that we are in Tokyo and they may never be back. They are in awe that I have been here more than once. I explain that I never say goodbye to a place because life and it's twists and turns could and may bring you back if you let it.

I'm proud. And I am jealous. Because, damn, I'd eat some horse tar tar. Pete and I will have our time eventually. That's why we choose to live the way we do, with no mortgage and no room for any extraneous stuff. Some folks wonder how I, being left to my own devices and equipped with Pete's debit card, don't just shop for shoes and handbags all day. Let's give ladies a bit more credit, people. And let's not forget that before Google, I was makin' all that bacon, and that shit's in savings...

To stem my insatiable urge to shop wildly, I've picked up a new hobby. Thanks to Pete's good buddy, Freilach, we are now the proud owners of a sweet harmonica. Everyone in Austin knows how to play a harmonica, so now I can successfully jump on the bandwagon. Sort of.

So, without further ado, I present, "Kara's First Song on the Harmonica". Notice the pinky:

Kitty Cats and Shoeless Showers

2011-05-12T10:33:00.000-04:00

All this week, I've been keeping my eye on a couple of lovely pussies. Kerry and Leslie, who unexpectedly needed to head to St. Louis, asked me to cat-sit for them, allowing me full access to their fabulous apartment.

For me, this whole scenario could not have worked out better. Pete's been in Connecticut and Toronto all week, so I'm bored. The men's bathroom here at the RV park is getting re-tiled, thereby giving men access to the women's room, thereby giving me the creeps. And Kerry and Leslie's fridge has beer in it.

Those who know me very well know that my former self despised cats. This all had to change when I was trying to get fresh with the boy downstairs, himself a proud pussy owner. The first few weeks of Pete and I's "relationship" was defined by sneezing and Benedryl highs. Sexy, I know.

I soon grew to love Pete's cat, Whitey. We were buds. He would sleep on my feet in the winter time, keeping me warm in Pete's unheated basement apartment. We would play every morning while Pete got ready for work. He provided excellent companionship throughout those dreary grad school days.

And then Whitey started pissing all over Pete's stuff, so we sent him back to Michigan where he's been living outside ever since. Cruel? Dude, you should see this cat outside. Liberated.

So, there you have it. I'm slightly OK with cats now, which is why it has been such a pleasure hanging out with Kerry and Leslie's feline friends.

Totally disinterested in me.

But truly, the best part of this whole ordeal was the opportunity for a "real" shower. My last "real" shower took place on Christmas Eve. I suppose I've been taking "real" showers all this time, what with the water that pours out of a shower head and all. But it's just not the same when you have to avoid moldy shower curtains and crusty tiles covered in other people's hair. And then there's the whole multiple people showering at the same time thing. And somebody might be taking a dump while your sudsing up. And all sorts of other woes that present themselves in community bathroom settings.

So Kerry and Leslie's bathroom, although littered with the smell of their cats' litter box, was a welcome change for the week. I had the whole place to myself. And I didn't even have to wear shower shoes!

Check ya later, flip flops.

Canoes, Margaritas and Sushi. Oh My!

2011-05-04T14:40:00.007-04:00

Alright, alright...I'm past due on an update. Forgive me for spending all my time with dude instead of dilly daddling on my computer all week. Pete's actually in Denver/Boulder for the day, so I've got some serious alone-time with my laptop. That last sentence makes it sound like I'm going to be watching porn all day...

ANYWAYS.

It was a long 13 days apart. I had just started getting used to navigating the Winnebago by myself- basically, throwing all my clothes on Pete's bench seat every night. Rest assured, however. I cleaned the place up for his arrival.

Pete returned home from New York City on Friday night (err...Saturday morning) around 12:45am. And what a lovely reunion it was! I'll spare you all the "lovey dovey" details and just move on to Saturday.

We started our morning with a bottle of champagne shared with our good friends, Molly and Josh. Molly and I have known each other since our freshmen year of college and were roommates for our junior and senior years. We're quite close. Looking at our "friendship" on Facebook, we have 182 tagged photos together. I feel the picture below is the best representation of our relationship:

Halloween, 2006

Molly and Josh, along with their two fabulous pitbulls, moved to Austin from Cleveland about a month ago. Much hanging out has ensued.

After lushing out at 10:30am, we headed over to the Zilker Park Boat Rental to get our canoe on. Because we hit the lake before noon, we got an extra hour free on the water. Not too shabby.

It was a delightful morning for a canoe trip. Not too hot. Not too sunny. Breezy and beautiful.

And THEN Pete and I decided to jump off a bridge.

A little background: Pete and I used to spend many lazy Austin afternoons sitting on the Lamar pedestrian bridge watching runners, bikers, babies and dogs pass us by. And occasionally, in the distance, we'd see folks jumping off the arches of the Lamar automobile bridge. We kept saying, "We're going to do that one day."

Well, the whole idea kind of slipped from my memory when we decided to take our canoes on the "scenic" route, which was in the opposite direction of the bridge. With an hour left of our rental, it was time to start heading back towards the rental site. Surely we won't have enough time to make it to the bridge, jump, and row back...

Who knew my complaint for needing to urinate would lead to this. The plan was to go somewhere to get in the water and pee. Well, why not jump and then pee? We paddled our asses off, making it to the bridge in no time. Pete and I pull our canoe onto the cement and disrobe to our bathing suits. I'm...uh...terrified.

*In coincidental news: On the radio right now is Nerf Herder's Van Halen. The last line is, of course, "Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump. Might as well jump." Moving on...

Bicep-laden Pete easily hoists himself up the six-foot ledge to the bottom of the arch:

I have a bit more trouble. Molly gives me a boost from the bottom while Pete pulls me from the top, my body dragging and scraping along the wall in the process.

That was the hard part. From there, all we had to do was shimmy around some columns to get to the peak.

We get to the edge, I look down, and my heart is pounding. Can I just go back? But truthfully, jumping is probably the easiest way down at this point.

One. Two. THREE!

WOWZA! Pete tells me the water is freezing, but I have no idea. Too much adrenalin...

Not knowing the temperature of the water, I hang out in it for a minute to "relieve myself." We get out, shake off, and what do we decide? "Let's do that shit again!"

Back up the wall. Around the pillars and to the top.

This time, we see a party boat full of drunk college kids coming our way. "Oh, this is gonna be sweet!" We wait for the party boat to approach. We pump them up a bit and they start cheering us on. Another countdown, and we're off!

Very thrilling, to say the least. I think Pete and I have some fans now!

We get back in our boats and bust a move back to the rental place. No way are we going to pay for an extra hour for being 10 minutes late.

Pete and I are loopy as we paddle. But, hey, check out the bridge behind Pete:

Conquered that shit.

Luckily, we get there in time and it's on to the next adventure: The Purple Rita.

I was craving a margarita after our plunge into the frigid lake. We were all a bit hungry too. So we hit up Baby Acapulco's (not our first choice) for a super quick lunch and a couple margaritas. I, rather smartly, ordered a regular margarita. Pete, on the other hand, wanted to try out their famous Purple Margarita which, by the looks, smell and taste of it, is a drink comprised of Everclear and "purple."

There is a limit of two for those guys and for good reason. Pete and I shared the two he ordered, which made me feel extra loopy. Pumped-up adrenalin and everclear is probably a dangerous combination.

We parted ways with Molly and Josh and hit the showers. Being drunk and high on adrenalin in a community shower is an interesting experience. That's all I'll say about that...

I get back to the Winnebago and Pete's napping. What else to do but join him!? Of course, neither of us set an alarm to wake up in time for the sushi happy hour we'd been planning on. I wanted to be at Uchi, one of the hottest sushi spots in town, by 5pm. We wake up at 5:30 and I, feeling hungover, call it a loss. But Pete, knowing this is my 'special birthday dinner' feels otherwise. Happy hour is over at 6:30. We can make it. We throw some 'fancy' clothes on and truck it over to the restaurant.

And whattayaknow? While a crap ton of people are waiting around for a table, there are two wonderful spots available at the bar just for us. We get to watch our own sushi chef prepare our tastings right in front of us. And we still made it in time for the Sake Social Hour menu, which is really the best deal- you can try smaller portions of a number of different items for a third of the price.

Maybe he should have brushed his hair...

We each have sake and share six or seven beautiful and incredibly tasty dishes. Seriously, the best food I've ever eaten. Uchi is a magical place. We felt extremely welcomed (they gave us a free piece of foie gras for being first-timers) and they totally made me feel special for my birthday (they also gave us a free lemon sorbet!).

Foie Gras

Lemon sorbet

Pete and I don't often venture out to eat. We have fairly strict ways of doing meals (lots of cold, leftover pasta) so that we stay on a budget. But we'd definitely splurge here again. Uchi creates dishes that we'd never be able to replicate- their fish is flown in daily from Japan. The service was superb and I had a super hot date. What more could a girl ask for!?

Put On Your Big Boy Pants!

2011-04-25T22:55:00.000-04:00

As you may have surmised from a recent entry, Pete landed a job with Google. It's contractual. Six months. Lots of travel. And crap loads of overtime. The plan is to make a bunch of money (I still work seven days a week), and then it's on to the next adventure. Hawaii? Italy? Only time will tell.

Pete's been playing around at Google headquarters in Mountain View, CA for the past week. The Googleplex is a hodgepodge of toys, gadgets and tasty treats for employees to explore, play with and work around. An inspiring way to work, to say the least. Google encourages creativity, playfulness and physical activity. Just today, I was listening to an NPR story about how people with more sedentary lifestyles (who sit for the majority of their day- at work and in front of the TV) are more likely to die from heart disease. Well Pete's on his feet all day at Google; I bike to work, bartend on the weekends and chase five year olds around during the week; and we don't own a TV. I hope we're in the clear...

Anyways, Google seems like quite the magical place. Here's an account from the Google man himself:

Google-rific! I have been dining at a new five-star cafe every day on the Google campus. One day, we had rack of lamb. The place is amazing! Every workspace has dogs, games, the most amazing sleep pod chairs, massage parlors, meditation rooms, kitchens, ball play pens, indoor swings, wet bars, and there is more to be discovered.

The bathroom toilets have heated seats, front and rear bidet and an undercarriage dryer. I have never been so fresh. Today, I found a bowling alley and yesterday Tina Fey came to entertain Google-ers. Everyday I get around the campus on a Google bike, which Google scatters all over the campus for anyone to grab and leave at any Google building. They are the most goofy sight, but watching a gaggle of Google-ers riding circus bikes to get around is pure entertainment. It's truly kiddie-land for adults, making work not seem like work anymore.

So yea, Pete is definitely enjoying himself at the Googleplex. He's eating like a king, sleeping in a real bed and networking like a mo-fo. He was also able to take a day trip to San Fransisco this past Saturday:

Where's the Rice-A-Roni?

I wish I could tell you more, but whatever he's doing over there is top secret. I haven't a clue what the heck he's up to. Gadgets are involved, I believe.

Of course, there's always a downside. Back in February, I discussed how heartbreaking it was when Pete left for four days to retrieve his car from Michigan. At the time, that was the longest we'd ever been apart. This is quite a change from our usual, 'we-do-everything-together' lifestyle. I won't get into the extent of how much we miss each other, but it's like, a lot.

He's off to New York tomorrow morning where he'll be working his tush off whilst wearing the latest fashions from Ross. Then it's back to Austin on Friday, where he and I will partake in a fabulous reunion! I took the weekend off from work (it's my birthday weekend!), so we plan on lunch dates and dinner dates and canoeing and hand holding and other stuff too...

And then, he'll get back on a plane for god-knows-where and we'll do it all again.

The Great Turtle Rescue

2011-04-14T13:24:00.001-04:00

You never know when you might have the opportunity to save a turtle.

This past Sunday, Pete and I were gorging ourselves on Whole Foods bread when I received a frantic call from our dear friend Leslie. "We're at the creek. There's a turtle. It's stuck. We thought it was dead. It's very much alive. Can you get me a number? Animal control might not help..."

"LESLIE. Where are you?"

"Third and Nueces."

"Be there in ten."

Pete and I flee the Whole Foods scene and power walk our way to the Shoal Creek trail (rushing because, well, there's a turtle to be rescued and also because I only had an hour before I had to start bar tending). On the way, Pete picks up a long, thick piece of wood, which will soon become his "Turtle Wedgin' Tool".

We arrive at the scene and I see...nothing. Where is this damn thing? All I see is limestone and trash. Upon closer inspection and mild flip-flop hiking, Henry makes his way into our view. Poor guy.

It appears he was drifting down the creek one day, toppled over a man-made waterfall contraption and then quickly became wedged in a very narrow part of the creek bed. From the looks of his shell, coated with moss and algae, it seems like Henry had been acting as a living dam for approximately a month. Maybe more.

Leslie's husband, Kerry, had been working for quite some time trying to dislodge the turtle by way of the wiggle. Unaware of the snapper's fierce disposition and ability to chomp off a human hand in one ferocious bite, Kerry cradled the turtle underneath its serpentine head, trying to free it from the rocks. No luck in that department, but thankfully, no amputated hands either.

Pete enters the rescue mission, backed with extensive turtle knowledge and a knack for tools. He began by utilizing his "Turtle Wedgin' Tool", sliding it between the rock and Henry's shell, hoping to leverage him free. Fail.

Pete’s next plan involves removing the limestone rock that’s trapping the turtle. But first, stronger, more sophisticated tools are needed. Good thing the Shoal Creek Trail is littered with trash. Keep Austin Beautiful, folks.

Within minutes, Pete and Kerry find a number of metal rods that will surely make great chisels. Using a large rock as the driving force, Pete begins chiseling away at the limestone surrounding Henry.

At this point, Henry’s pissed. Not knowing whether we are friend or foe, he starts snapping. He may be exhausted, but he hasn’t lost any sense of his defense mechanism. Watching from above, Leslie and I squeal like little girls with every snap of his powerful jaw. “Henry, I promise we’re not trying to make turtle soup, dude.”

The chiseling continues. Kerry is now holding Henry’s head under the water with a long bamboo rod, attempting to subdue any further snaps. Pete’s making progress with the rock removal. Henry can now move his body forward slightly, but if he keeps pushing back on the rocks, he’ll never get free. “Relax!”

Pete tries to push him out, but no luck. In fact, Henry’s shell cracks slightly. We keep reassuring ourselves, “It’s better to be free with some pain, then trapped and die a slow death.” But what do we know?

More chiseling. Henry’s becoming more aggressive. He snaps at Kerry’s bamboo, splitting it in two. Much of the rock has become loose now, but it’s still stuck at Henry’s sides. Pete works on scooping out the excess rock scraps, making sure to avoid Henry’s massive claws. Alas, Pete dislodges the chunks! I think I can see Henry’s body moving…

With much anticipation, Pete gives the turtle a little nudge. “Come on, man. Move!” A bigger nudge…and he’s free! Leslie and I cheer in excitement. Kerry and Pete calm their nerves. And Henry…

Henry does nothing. He hangs out in the water, a mere foot from his recent prison. A little anti-climatic, sure. But a victory nonetheless.

He's moving!

Slowly but surely!

He's free!

Great story, huh!? Two thumbs up for our hero in the half-shell, Henry! Conversely, two thumbs down for Animal Control.

Immediately upon Henry’s discovery, Leslie phoned a number of offices, eventually leading her to Animal Control. She explained the oh-so-devastating situation, asking for turtle-saving assistance.

What Leslie encountered on the other line was an indifferent woman, lounging in the comfort of her office’s air conditioning, chomping on a bag of pretzels. Whilst chewing, the woman claims, “The turtle is in its natural habitat, so it’s out of our jurisdiction. We can’t help you with that ma’am.”

Ok, fine. Animal Control doesn’t assist animals that have fallen victim within their own natural habitat. Makes sense. But the last time I checked, downtown Austin was not a natural environment.

Henry was lodged a mere two feet down from a man-made waterfall/drainage system that appeared to be anything but natural. The amount of trash alone- foam bedding, water bottles, hats, candy wrappers- makes this creek feel completely separated from nature. And the water pollution. Ick.

Surely, Third and Nueces no longer remains a safe and natural environment for our turtle friends (and all the other Austin animal residents who have been around much longer than we have). We were wrong to assume that Animal Control would, in fact, control this animal situation. I suppose that if they did take any sort of action, it would have involved a cop and a pistol.

Good thing Leslie and I are equipped with über-macho turtle-saving dudes.

Dispatches from a Winnebago

The Bad-As(s)tro Van Ain't Perfect

Happy Valentine's Day!

Squeezin' Grapefruits

Vancation: San Rafael & Sonoma

Vantics!

Vancation: Sausalito

Life's Vantastic!

Happy Birthday Ashleigh!

Dispatches: Holiday Edition

Minor Incident

The Saga Continues, Continued

The Saga Continues

West Texas Never Ends

California Dreamin'

Dispatches from a Kia, Part IV: The Long Road Home

Dispatches from a Kia, Part III: Arriving at Destination

Dispatches from a Kia, Part II: Where It All Began

Dispatches from a Kia, Part I: The Effin' Road Trip Begins

The Super Monster

Keeping My Veteran Classy

I'm Glad It's Your Birthday

Out With the Old -- In With the New

Our Winniversary!

Oh, What a Year It's Been...

*Mobile* Home

Hey There, Old Friends!

Freedom from Fireworks!

Chill Out

Mr. Fix-It

No Viva Las Vegas

Looking for a Tiny Tit??

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Nine's a Crowd

Where in the World is Pete??

Kitty Cats and Shoeless Showers

Canoes, Margaritas and Sushi. Oh My!

Put On Your Big Boy Pants!

The Great Turtle Rescue

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