Roving Cooks

Over the past several months, we’ve had a number of conversations with people we know and people we’ve met that have been something along the lines of “wow you’re brave” or “you really sold your house??” or, frequently “that’s amazing, good for you.” The thing is…going on this 2021 adventure didn’t feel brave to me. Making a change, a big change, felt necessary in November/December 2020. I wanted to take back some semblance of control. I wanted to give a big middle finger to the universe that was (and is) happening to us. I needed to break out of a cycle of mediocrity, of days at work that were just ok, of anxiety at finding the next childcare option and hoping that it would be safe enough or sustainable enough, of annoyance at pricing out home improvements.

Back in March, I was reflecting on how our experiences more frequently moved me outside the daily comfort that largely occupied the last few years. This is not to say that the last few years were without growth, new experiences, or failures – certainly work, kids, and covid have provided numerous challenges. But part of this adventure was designed to open opportunities to do things I’d never before considered. Some have been small, perhaps not noteworthy to most…but for a few weeks I kept a running list, as a reminder that the 2021 Roving Cooks Adventure is about both experiencing the U.S. of A and experiencing new aspects of US.

-December/January: Towing our 33 ft travel trailer. For context, I learned how to drive on a 2 door Plymouth Colt.

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-February: Driving our RV over a mountain during a snow storm through Cloudcroft, NM

-March: Driving Big Red off-road through a few miles of sand roads in Kanab, UT, bumpity bump. Come across another truck stuck in the sand, offer to help pull it out, and am successful! Grateful owner of other truck actually knows the roads, helps make sure we get back to the parking lot and solid ground.

-March: Off-road driving, still in Kanab. Riding the high of previous off-road driving, we blindly follow Google Map directions and find ourselves Too Far outside the comfort zone. Greg successfully switchbacks down a cliff and we are grateful for the angels watching over us.

-April: Super high winds rock the RV in Desert Hot Springs, CA. I debate the likelihood of flipping over in my sleep as I try to fall asleep, using no data or expert opinions. We survive intact and upright.

-April: I fill a gas can in anticipation of using our generator on an overnight stop on the way to Salt Lake. Unfortunately we also needed engine oil…but I can now fill a gas can.

-May: I hit the side of a step 30 feet from our West Yellowstone campsite and blow an RV tire. Greg gets to use the jack and replace an RV tire.

About 6 weeks back into living in brick and mortar, our 7 month roving adventure feels somewhat far away. We’re navigating a lot of conversations around “what was the best place you went?” and a great, thought-provoking question recently – “what paradigm shifts did you experience?” – which I’m still pondering. Some thoughts include:

-Confirmation that we don’t need (or want) much stuff. Though our recent couch purchase has been awesome.

-Appreciation for good food access after staying in a couple “food deserts”

-A combination of lack of meetings, few urgent topics, and increased outdoor time chasing kids was perhaps what I needed to break a 30-year nail biting habit.

-A life sabbatical of a few months where time mattered very little was incredibly freeing. My Garmin watch which tracked steps, heart rate, and alerted me to texts and meetings for about 3 years broke in February. I kept meaning to replace it…but just didn’t. There were no meetings to be alerted to. Calls and texts could be addressed on my phone. And I didn’t need an app to tell me if I was feeling good or not. As a believer in “you manage what you measure,” I’m sure I’ll get back on this train again someday, but I’m not in a rush.

So what’s outside the comfort zone now?

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Our kids are in school/daycare, and like many other parents we talk to, I am in a regular state of “waiting for the (covid) call”. It feels like being on a paddleboard; with some deep breaths and a core focus, I’m standing and appreciating the warm sun, cool breeze, calm water. A wave will probably come along; and maybe I steady and balance, or maybe I fall off. This is not the groove of 2019, where I didn’t think too much about the impending shift in current. And it’s also not fear of 2020, where I wasn’t sure I could handle the chilly water or where I was fighting for control of the board. I think now, in September of 2021, I know I don’t have control of the waves. I might fall off the board. The water might be chilly, but I am not on the lake by myself. I can bob along in my lifejacket until someone pulls me back to shore and we get back up again.

Professionally, I’m working on starting my own business to serve new families, an area I’ve been thinking about for a couple years and am passionate about. It’s terrifying. I’m working on moving forward and adapting as I learn.

What’s next for the Roving Cooks? Hopefully still some roving on school breaks. There’s a lot of land out there! And I’m acknowledging a pattern of wanderlust; change of some kind is needed every few years. Greg seems on board. Probably some continued blog posts. This has been a satisfying outlet for me this year, and I hope provided some entertainment as well. Thanks for reading along.

If I’m still feeling adventurous, perhaps 2022 will be the year Jackie tries Paddleboard Yoga. Who’s with me?