Believe Them the First Time

Maya Angelou said,

"When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time."

I love this. And it's true. I've spent years of my life making excuses for people who are cruel, or unkind, or selfish. Frankly, I've spent years of my life making excuses for myself.

"I was having a bad day."

"I had PMS."

"I had low blood sugar."

The thing is, I really do believe that your patterns of behavior define you. Everyone gets angry. But if you have a habit of rage, you might be an angry person, and you might need help. Everyone gets sad. But if you find yourself sad all the time, you might have depression and you might need help.

It's okay. Patterns and habits can be changed. Not easily, but they can. If you find, somehow, that you've developed into a jerk, that's fixable. I've had to do it. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that everyone who has survived their teenage years has had to do it, with a handful of exceptions. I'm pretty sure my best friend Jacque never went through a jerk phase. (Last night I called Jacque "the most likable person on the planet" to her face. Sorry, not sorry.) 

I think about social media a lot, probably because I'm on social media a lot. My family travels and social media is a good way for us to keep in touch with our people and document our journey. But lately, I've noticed that for some, social media has become a digital Westworld; a way to fulfill cruel fantasies by commenting viciously, harshly, and without consequence. What is that about, I wonder? Is it just a way to pretend that we are top dogs who "don't take any crap from anyone?" Is it genuine heartlessness and inhumanity? Is it the thrill of being right?

For a couple of years, now, some people that I used to go to church with have been posting really mean stuff on Facebook. I thought I knew these men, but the other day, one of them posted that "People on the left really are a different species, and we might need to think about putting them down." This man was a leader in our church. He was, if you believe in that sort of thing, spiritually responsible for other human beings. And now he is advocating for...what, exactly? The euthanasia of people who don't share his political beliefs? That's obviously crazy, and not what anyone calling themselves a Christian should be saying.

But I keep making excuses. I keep telling myself that if we could meet up in person and have a discussion, that if we could just look at each other face to face, we could find common ground. After all, these are good people, right? These are husbands and fathers (sorry, menfolk, I have yet to see any of this from women) and pillars of their churches and communities.

Are they, though? Can you really call yourself a decent human being if the person you are on Facebook and Twitter borders on psychopathic? If you are in the habit of tearing people down, calling people names, screaming for the euthanasia of folks who don't share your politics, and generally being a boor, but it's only on social media, does it count?

I don't really know the answer to these questions, but I'm inclined to agree with Dr. Angelou. When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. People's social media selves are versions of themselves. My social media self is a version of my self. It's not the whole version, because I don't show you the incredible mess left over after my kid uses my shower. (Although I will sometime, because it's an epic mess worth seeing.) Your social media self is a version of your self too.

I don't believe that any of these guys would use the language that they use on Facebook to my face. I don't believe they would call me "moron," or "libtard," or "snowflake" in person. But I'm not sure that matters. They are willing to call someone those names online, and online bullying is just as bad, just as damaging, and just as painful as in person bullying.

I joined Twitter today, to help Jenny promote her book. I used to post on Twitter, years ago, to post about our family's farm. Twitter was new and not nearly as crazy as it is now; theoretically, you could read your entire Twitter feed back then. But that's not the only difference between Twitter in its infancy and Twitter now. Now, Twitter is much more political and it is much more cruel. All you have to do to get someone to call you names and threaten you is disagree with them. I'm honestly a little bit scared to tweet, and I'm a nice person, with no plans to make anyone mad. At least not on purpose.

I think it's time for us to do better. I believe that we can. And actually, I believe that Christians, who are called to be the light of the world, must. There's been a lot of talk about "tough love" and "speaking truth" lately. But without love, we're a whole bunch of resounding gongs. It's time to be kind. Even online.

Oh, and PS: if calling someone a "libtard" or a "snowflake" is in ANY way loving or Christ-like, I'm a bowl of soup.

Sit With Them

I can't remember if I've mentioned this already, but I am currently editing my best friend's book. It's called Carry On Castle, it's beautiful and brilliant, and it's all about grief.

Grief is something that, on one level or another, we are all familiar with. Jenny's book is about the  earth shattering Grief that showed up, along with her hideous friends Rage and Anxiety, after the death of her husband. You might not have ever experienced something that wretched and horrible. I hope you haven't. I haven't. But we have all experienced something.

When Jesse and I were in the let's-make-babies stage of life, we had some trouble. It was unexpected; I got pregnant the first month we decided to start trying, and Brofessor was born ten months later. After that, though, there were some issues. First I had a miscarriage. Then I had another miscarriage. Then I had a third miscarriage, and just as we were about to go and talk to a fertility specialist, our insurance changed and infertility services were no longer covered.

So we kept trying. Eventually we found out that I was expecting Creato-Girl, and that was wonderful and miraculous. But pregnancy after loss is scary and exhausting and scary some more. And people say stupid things like,

"Be grateful for what you already have!" and "At least you know you can get pregnant!"

When Creato-Girl was a year old, we decided to try again. Miscarriage. Then another miscarriage, at Christmas-time, just at the end of the first trimester when we thought it was safe to tell people. Then another, and another. Four miscarriages in a row. I had never even heard of anyone having that many miscarriages, although now I have.

Eventually I saw an amazing naturopath (our insurance, like a LOT of insurance, did not cover fertility services) and she figured it out and fixed it, which is why we have a Robo-Kid and a Honeybee. But pregnancy and birth, for our family, was forever tainted by grief. We will always wonder who those babies might have been.

I know you understand grief too. Maybe you've lost a parent or a grandparent; most of us have by the time we are in our thirties. Maybe you've been divorced, or lost a pregnancy. Maybe you've lost a beloved pet, or had a friend that you loved ghost you. Grief is a part of life and it is a part of love, and if you have known love, you know what it feels like when that love is taken away.

So because I know that you know, and we all know, this is not going to be another "what not to do when trying to help a grieving person" post.

This is going to be a what TO do when you are trying to help a grieving person post.

Because what NOT to do isn't helpful. You know grief. We all know grief. And we already know that the worst thing to do is nothing, but when you're on the outside, you're so paralyzed with the not wanting to do or say the wrong thing that you often DO do nothing. I've been guilty of it. I don't want to say the wrong thing so I don't say anything at all. I don't want to do the wrong thing so I don't do anything. We have all done this, and we've all had it done to us.

But the best thing to do is also the simplest, and it is something that every single one of us can do for our grieving person. Ready? Three words: sit. with. them.

That's it. Your person's person died? Your person got a divorce? Your person lost their job? Go sit with them. You don't have to say anything. Sometimes it's better if you don't. Go sit. Hold their hand or hug them if they want to be touched. Just sit, if they don't. If they want to rage and scream, sit there. If they want to throw things, sit there. If they want to talk, sit and listen. If they want to be silent, just sit.

You don't even have to bring anything, although I like to cook so I usually bring food. Soup is nice. One of my friends brought me plants after one of my miscarriages, which was good because I wanted to go outside and pour my sadness into gardening. But also? She sat with me.

Sitting with your person tells them that you value them, and that you are not afraid of their grief. It tells them that they shouldn't be either, because even though it feels like it, their grief doesn't mean they've lost everything. They've lost something important, but they haven't lost you. And that means a lot.

You don't even have to be a super close friend to go and sit with a grieving person. You can sit just as easily with a co-worker as you can with your best friend. Just go. Sit. Bring food, or don't. Bring gifts, or don't. But bring yourself. Yourself is the most important thing to bring.

Some grief requires more sitting than others, obviously. Someone who is ruthlessly downsized at work might only need a day or two of sitting. Someone whose husband dies needs a lot. That's okay. Sit when you can, and don't feel guilty about not being able to. Nobody wants that. Guilt doesn't benefit anyone.

Occasionally (and this is very rare) you might come across a grieving person who does NOT want to be sat with. They might want to be alone. Or they might want only a few people to sit with them. This is, of course, completely fine. But it is far more common to have a grieving person not want to bother anyone. If this is the case, go sit anyway. If you aren't sure, ask. Ask the grieving person, or ask their family and friends. Personally, I would probably just go anyway. It's like that scene in The Fellowship of the Ring when Frodo tells Samwise that he's going on alone, and Sam says,

"Of course you are! And I'm going with you!" You can be alone and still have someone sitting with you. Be the person that someone can be alone with. Be Samwise.

We all grieve. We all love. And sometimes the most loving thing you can do is to just sit.

Keep Calm

This morning I read an article about how women in their 40s are experiencing midlife crises, such as the world has never seen. It was aimed toward Gen X women, the "forgotten middle child," according to the article, between Baby Boomers and Millennials.

Side note: can we just all agree that the labels on generations are REALLY confusing? I was born in 1980 and, according to different things I've read, I am either the youngest Gen Xer or the oldest Millennial. I played Oregon Trail in school (Gen X) but I was too young to go to Nirvana concerts. So. I don't know. I sort of relate to things written about both. Or neither. Whatever. It doesn't really matter, because the reality is this:

Millennials are now referring to themselves as "The Burnout Generation." Gen X is in the midst of a midlife crisis. Everything is stressful. Everyone is scared and worried and frankly, when you are a woman in our shallow, looks-obsessed culture, it is completely normal to freak out a little bit about those little lines that start to appear around your eyes. And for me, apparently, alongside my nose in the mornings. I'm a side sleeper. This is the fun of your 30s. The way you sleep gives you wrinkles now. My point is, it's normal.

We would, in my opinion, be weird if we weren't a little panicked right now. The world is a scary place at the moment. None of us have as much money as our parents did at our age. I'll try to stay away from politics, but can we all agree that our president might actually be insane? The freaking Doomsday Clock moved another minute closer to midnight, when apparently we all die? By the way, thank you to whoever invented that useless piece of crap that actually tells us nothing real. It's all terrifying and it just keeps coming. The news app on my iPhone updates, like, fifty times a day. And it's never anything good.

I keep going back to what the pastor told Jesse and I when we did our premarital counseling, all those years ago. 9/11 had JUST happened. The whole world was on edge. I was worried about bringing children into such a scary world. And Pastor Dwight (I don't remember his last name) said,

"Misery sells." Wait, what? "Misery. It sells. It sells papers and magazines. It gets clicks." (Online news was new-ish, but Pastor Dwight was a wise man and he could tell which way the wind was blowing.) It was an eye-opening moment for me. No one would read a newspaper (Gen X!) or a Buzzfeed article (Millennial!) with the headline,

"Billions of People Have Nice Normal Day, Pet Their Dog, and Go to Bed." I mean, I wouldn't. I'm more of a cat person anyway. But lots of people love dogs and I'll bet they STILL wouldn't read that article. It would be boring. Who wants to read what happened to me yesterday? NO ONE. I fed my kids, nagged them to do their schoolwork, made dinner, went for a swim, watched an episode of Top Chef on Hulu, and went to sleep. Ha. I just made YOU read what happened to me yesterday. I'm sorry; I know that wasn't very interesting.

Listen, I get that things are bad right now. And I do not know what's going to happen. Maybe the Doomsday Clock people are right and, in the words of the immortal and amazing Whoopi, we are all "in danger, girl." Maybe. But things have been bad before. People have been scared before. We have gotten through it before.

Please note that I'm not urging complacency. I love activism and I believe it changes the world. But there is a difference between being active and refreshing your phone a hundred times to find new things to worry about. Trust me; I've done both.

I guess what I'm suggesting is...connection. Be scared. But at some point, don't forget to turn off notifications and just be. Laugh with your friends. Tease your kids (in a nice way). Make love to your partner. Listen to music that moves you. Take cookies to a neighbor. Read an actual book, preferably fiction. Go sit outside, even if it's raining or snowing. Do something that you truly enjoy, without thinking about the "shoulds" or the "shouldn'ts," because shoulds and shouldn'ts  will ruin your life and happiness. They're known for it.

Think about the world you want to live in, and how you can take small steps to make it happen. Have a conversation with someone who doesn't share your political or religious beliefs. Pray. Meditate. Remember what it feels like to have hope, and remember that even when we don't feel it, we always have hope. Always.

LuLaRoe

I read an article the other day about how MLM (multi level marketing) companies are ruining women's friendships. The gist of it was this:

Our 30s and 40s are a difficult time to make friends. Our kids are a little older, so we don't get the benefit of Mommy and Me or playgroups. We have largely outgrown or lost contact with friends from high school or college. Many of us are headed back to work, as our youngest children go to school. It can be a very lonely time.

To take advantage of that vulnerability, in swoops the "MLM Hun." The Hun (so called due to her frequent usage of the endearment, "hun;" it's an easy way to not have to remember your name) might be a lady whose dress you complimented at church last week. She might be a fellow mom from your kid's soccer team. She might be a woman you went to high school with, and haven't spoken to in ages. One way or another, she will exploit your loneliness, pretend to want to be your friend, and BAM! Before you know it, the sales pitch has begun and you are left reeling. Did she actually want to be friends, or just to sell something?

Well, have a seat, friendly people, and let me tell you the story of how my best friend and I briefly became Huns (although we never used that word,) got sucked up into the world of MLMs, came to our senses, and got out.

Four years ago, my bestie, Jenny, lost her husband. Dan was 36 and perfectly healthy, except for a very minor seizure disorder. When I say "minor," what I mean is that he had had maybe a dozen brief seizures in his entire life, they were easily controlled with medication, and there was no indication that they would ever cause anything more than a slight inconvenience to his family and life. Then, one awful night in January, Dan had a seizure and was gone, leaving a huge void and a heartbroken family.

A few months after Dan died, I discovered a tiny clothing company called LuLaRoe. They made maxi skirts, leggings, and dresses; the kinds of things I liked to wear, in bright colors and soft, stretchy fabrics. My youngest had just turned one, and I was feeling insecure about my body, but the LuLaRoe clothes made me feel better.

I thought they might make Jenny feel better too. I mean, nothing makes you feel better for very long, when your entire world has ended and you don't recognize your life. But sometimes a bright, pretty outfit can help. Just for a minute or two. I gave Jenny a tunic and a few pairs of leggings, and she was (like many people at that time) hooked.

We liked to shop together, we had favorite LuLaRoe retailers that we enjoyed buying from, and one day, after talking to Jesse, I asked Jenny if she would like to go into business together. It seemed like a good idea at the time; she needed an income, I wanted to get out of the house, and we were spending all this money on clothes anyway. She immediately said yes, and we met with a retailer that lived close to us, to get set up.

Okay, so, before we go any further, let me explain something about LuLaRoe, at least back then:

They hide the MLMness of it very very very well. Jenny and I asked about recruiting. We had no desire to supervise or work with anyone else, and we were wary of "businesses" where it is next to impossible to make money selling the products, because the real money is in recruiting OTHER people to sell the products. Our sponsor told us that 90% of LuLaRoe retailers didn't even HAVE anyone under them, and were making money simply by buying the clothes at wholesale and selling them at retail. In hindsight, this was a huge lie, but our sponsor didn't have anyone underneath HER and she was making money hand over fist, so we figure she thought she was telling the truth.

We started selling in February, two years after Dan had died. During our first few months, we did very well. We reinvested our profits into new inventory, expanded our offerings, and by June, we started paying ourselves. Our plan was simple and (not to toot our horns or anything,) not unintelligent: we would order new inventory once a month, to keep things fresh and keep sales flowing. Anything above that, we would use to write our paychecks.

Our commitment to paying ourselves is probably what kept us above water. By the time we'd been in business for a year, sales had dried WAY up, new inventory was proving nearly impossible to get, and the quality of clothing we were receiving, when we could even get it, was going downhill fast. Here are some examples of what I mean:

LuLaRoe would release new products at a specified time, online. They called these "launches." The way it worked was that you would log in to your back office and be assigned a spot in the digital "queue." Once your place in line was up, you could fill your cart, pay, and be done.

The launch that broke our spirits was called "Noir." It was a collection of solid black dresses, leggings, skirts, and tunics that got all kinds of hype on Facebook and Instagram. People were serious about this collection. LuLaRoe's fit was so nice and forgiving and comfy, and everyone wanted solid black in every piece. Jenny was busy that night, so I logged in on our computer, my tablet, and my phone, with strict instructions to order everything I possibly could, in as many sizes as possible. I didn't usually do the ordering for our shop; that was Jenny's job, and she was fantastic at it, so I was nervous about this anyway.

We got nothing. The launch was pure chaos. Thousands of people logged in on thousands of devices, and by the time I got in to shop, every solid black dress, top, and pair of leggings was gone. We were incredibly frustrated, and as it turns out, we were not the only ones. A handful of large shops got Noir, but the vast majority of smaller retailers did not. That was the beginning of the end for us.

One day, we ordered a huge shipment of dresses and when they arrived, half of them were see-through. When we brought this up to corporate, they cheerfully told us to "have people size up!" You can't ask a woman who is a size 10 to wear a 2XL, just so her bra won't show. That's not how dresses work.

We received leggings that split across the bum after one wear. We got tunics that leached dye all over everything they touched. One memorable cardigan smelled like something dead. We had to hang it outside for days before we could even bring it into the shop, and suddenly it became excessively complicated to send damaged items back to corporate.

The recycled fiber program, which one one of the major appeals of the brand for us, was phased out. Fair trade was, too. Sizing was inconsistent, and it was not uncommon for us to get back-order slips in nearly every shipment. Of course, these were never refunded. We received warehouse credits, rather than refunds, which were hard to use because nothing was ever in stock.

The final nail in the coffin was the moment when we realized that LuLaRoe had not produced any new inventory in six months. This was clearly not a sign of a healthy company. Jenny and I were on the phone with each other. I was in Ohio and she was in Oregon, and we decided we were done. We got all of our money off of LuLaRoe's internal invoicing system, had an epic sale (using Square, not LLR's app) and donated the rest to charity.

Then, because we don't believe in rules and rarely do as we are told, Jenny and I started reading the so-called "LLR hater" pages on social media. During our stint with the company, we had been told repeatedly to STAY AWAY from these groups. They were evil. Haters. Ruiners of Christmas and families' dreams.

Except they were not. They were supportive, kind, funny, and very very very smart. They saw LuLaRoe for what it was: a scam. A way to prey on the most vulnerable: the poor, the scared, the mom lacking confidence, who needed a little boost. Our 30s and 40s can be a lonely, weird time. Add to that the economic uncertainty that we've all been dealing with, and you have a victim so ideal that the MLM vampires couldn't invent her.

We were lucky. We never went into debt, and we made our money back. So many women did NOT. They were promised extra money for their families, for their retirement, for their children to go to college. They were promised friends and financial freedom. Neither LuLaRoe, nor any other MLM, has ever delivered on the promises it has made. I know that's a bold statement, and I know some people will read this and say,

"No, no! My MLM is different!" If this is you, listen. I love you and I get it. I get the desire to make a little money, not to work for someone else, and I get that sometimes you genuinely do love the products. But the MLM business model is BAD. And you know what else? You could start your own business, using the skills you've picked up in the MLM world, and really make it work. Anyone can wholesale products. Anyone. You want to sell makeup? Get a wholesale account with a makeup manufacturer. I guarantee that you will pay less than you're paying now. You want to sell clothes? Start shopping, baby. You can do this! It's cheaper than LuLaRoe and easier to start small!

And if you are being targeted by a "Hun," be kind. MLMs are what they are because they are professional con artists. They are experts in getting people to believe their hype and buy in to their promises. Human beings are all naive, all fallible, all easily sold. Offer a little grace, if you can, to that woman who invited you out for coffee and then smacked you with a sales pitch. She's a victim of the MLM machine, too. Who knows? Your weird experience might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Eulogy for an Un-Killable Spider

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to pay tribute to our brave, eight legged friend, Scary Green Spider. SGS hitched a ride with us way back in Ohio, and held on through five states, forty degree temperature swings, one bored house-cat, and six different vacuum attachments. 

We cleaned up your strange, fluffy web a grand total of eighty seven times, and each time, it would be back the following morning, creeping us out and turning us into ninjas in the two steps between the bathroom and the bedroom. We admire your tenacity.

Don't get me wrong, SGS. Your iridescent hues would be attractive, or even beautiful, if they belonged to a bird or fish. And I do appreciate your masterful trapping of the tiny gnats that flew in every time we opened the door in Tennessee. I'm sure you protected us from many a mosquito as well, and I do appreciate your place in the food chain. You were an important predator friend to have, if we could only get past the recurring nightmare of finding you in our bed.

Your eyes were big and there were lots of them, SGS. We are pretty sure you watched us from your little spot in the corner of our sliding door frame, just out of reach of the vacuum cleaner. I'm glad you stayed safe up there, while managing to make us feel weirdly spied upon. Your observational skills were to be commended.

Today, when I found your spidery corpse, I'm not going to lie: I thought it might be some sort of trick. Maybe you weren't really dead and were attempting to take over the trailer by sending me, shrieking, to a new home. I poked your body a few times with a piece of toilet paper. When you didn't move, I picked you up (with a bigger piece of toilet paper) and flushed you. Now I'm a little bit scared to use the toilet.

But alas, you are dead, SGS, unless you are hiding in our black tank, waiting for your moment to return and conquer the place you made your home for the last four months. 

I wonder what happened to you. Did you starve? There are very few insects to eat in February, even in Texas. Old age? You did look fairly prehistoric. I could picture you wrapping up and munching on pterodactyls in your massive web. Did Stripey Cat finally manage to catch you, and deny you the satisfaction of being eaten? 

Regardless of what happened, I will clean up your web one last time today, and remember all the memories we shared.

Oh, and if you do come back as some sort of undead vampire spider, (otherwise known as "a spider,") please stay out of my bed.

How Not to Be a Jerk at an RV Park

Yesterday I saw a woman and a man screaming at each other in the parking lot near the laundry room. I wasn't trying to listen, but when two people are yelling that loudly, it's hard not to. Apparently the woman had her laundry in every single one of the washing machines, and the man was writing down her license plate number, in order to report her to the office.

Okay, so, I realize that the following may make me seem a little priggish. I am a mom too; there are six of us and we make an OBSCENE amount of laundry, so I understand the temptation to get it all done at once. And I do, generally, try to work things out with neighbors by talking them out, rather than reporting to "the authorities."

But I am 100% Team Laundry Man here. Selfish Washer Lady, in this scenario and in my opinion, was completely wrong. There are basic rules of etiquette when you're RVing, and using up every washing machine is a big time no-no.

I am far from an expert, but here are a few other simple guidelines to help your neighbors not hate you.

1: Don't walk your dog through other people's campsites. If a campground allows pets, it will have areas in which to walk them. One place we stayed in Wisconsin was a concrete parking lot, and nothing more. There were still grassy spots for dogs to do their business. Cats answer to nobody; not man nor any other entity, so no one will be mad at you if your cat ends up in their campsite. They might shoo him away, though. Don't get offended. Some people don't like cats. Crazy people. But still.

2: It really should go without saying, but pick up your dog's poo. Most places have this posted as an official rule, but I am continually amazed at how many ignore it. Hate plastic bags? Me too! But you can get brown paper lunch sacks at the Dollar Tree. Or buy 500 of them at a time at Costco! Wrap your doggo's doo up in one of those, toss it in the trash can, and voila! The whole thing will compost in a few months, or even less if the weather is warm. Plus they're more durable for larger messes and don't feel as icky in your hand as plastic. Please. Pick up after your pupper.

3: Respect the elderly, and teach your children to do the same. There are a LOT of older folks at RV parks. It is changing slowly, but for a long time, RVing has been the exclusive domain of retired people. My grandparents did it, and had a whole crew of fellow snowbird/traveler friends that they would meet up with on the road. Most retirees love children and families, but some are unaccustomed to (and maybe a tad resentful of) children and young people doing what they worked hard for their entire lives to do.

The simple solution is to be friendly. Wave, say hello, keep an eye on your children, and don't get into a turf war with a snowbird. It's rude and you will lose. Besides, these guys are RVing wizards, and you would be stupid to overlook their expertise. One of the best tips we have ever gotten came from an old timer who saw Jesse working on our black tank. He told us that, right before we leave a campsite, we should dump a five pound bag of ice down the toilet. It sloshes around while you drive, loosening anything gross that happens to be stuck in the corners of the tank, and prevents the dreaded "Pyramide du Poo." Make friends with the snowbirds. They know everything.

4: Don't use all the washing machines. On one of our first RV trips (we were not full timers yet) three of us had a stomach bug. It was miserable and gross and there were only two washing machines in the laundry room. Using both would have made a long day of laundry MUCH shorter. But we didn't, because that would be boorish and uncivil. We were not the only family with laundry that day. Don't be selfish.

I reached out to two of my best friends, who are also full time RVers, to get their thoughts on this post. Shirley is a camp host, and her tip was excellent:

5: Don't leave your super bright outdoor light on all night. I hadn't thought of this, but I know I've done it, because I know I've woken up at midnight, nudged Jesse, and said,

"Will you go turn off the porch light?" We are lucky, because we don't have any neighbors on that side, so we didn't ruin anyone's sleep. But we certainly COULD have! Check your porch light before bed, especially if it's one of those really bright LEDs.

Jacque came up with this one:

6: Don't let your kids be loud, early or late. I don't know why this one didn't occur to me, but DUH! RV parks get quiet pretty early, unless it's a holiday, or a weekend in the summer. It might be the above mentioned retired folks, or it could just be that camping is tiring and people who do it a lot tend to go to bed early. So keep your kids quiet.

I also happen to know that at least once, Jacque has had to grab her firstborn (who rises with the dawn, awake and chipper as an early bird) by the scruff of the neck and yank him backward to prevent his going outside and flying his drone at 6AM. Be like Jacque. Your neighbors will thank you.

As I said, I am far from an expert, and I feel like after seven months, we are still noobs! But we do make an effort to be good guests and good stewards, wherever we end up. I'd love to hear your best RV etiquette tips, in the comments!

You Can Bake in an RV!

You know, it's a common misconception that you can't bake in an RV. I mean, sure, the oven is miniature and the elements are weird and it's hard to find cookie sheets and muffin tins that fit. But with a few simple hacks, baking in the RV can be fun and just as productive as baking in a sticks and bricks house.

I started baking on our travels because I am weird and socially awkward when it comes to neighbors. I like people, generally, and one of the reasons we wanted to do this whole adventure was to get to know people in different parts of the country, who had different lives and experiences than we did. Getting to know people who aren't like you is valuable and, in my opinion, crucial to the survival of our culture. We must meet people, instead of just yelling at each other on social media! It's important!

However, it is hard for me to just...introduce myself. My friend Jacque is brilliant at it. She can talk to anyone at any time, about anything, just by asking them questions. We were in Amish country in Ohio last summer, and Jacque gave a pair of young ladies a ride home, peppering them with questions the whole time:

"So I see you're Amish. What's that like? Can you go on dates? Do you have a boyfriend? Is he Amish too? Are there different types of Amish people? Can you use the computers at the library?"

People love talking about themselves, it's genius, and Jacque has made friends all over the country by doing this.

I am not so good at this. I'm more like Chris Farley in that old episode of Saturday Night Live, when he meets Paul McCartney:

"Remember when you were in the Beatles? And that record said that Paul was dead? That was a hoax, right?"

Ugh. So awkward. So stomach sinking-ly uncomfortable.

But baking makes it less weird. Well, actually, it doesn't. But if/when it's weird, at least people have tasty snacks in their mouths and that tends to smooth things over a bit.

With crippling social anxiety in mind, here are my favorite baking hacks for the RV:

1: A baking stone. This is non-negotiable. An RV oven is, essentially, a poorly-insulated metal box, with a propane heating element only at the bottom of it. This isn't shocking to your grandma, but for me, it was an adjustment, because modern ovens have heating elements on top and on bottom, and are better insulated than old ones.

The solution to the uneven heat and single element is a baking stone. You can get these at any restaurant supply store, or places like Bed, Bath, and Beyond, but they are expensive. Terra cotta plant trays, however, are dirt cheap and work just as well! I use a large tray, upside down, between the metal plate and the rack. Don't cover the holes in the metal plate. Also, for explosion-proof baking, be sure to use unglazed terra cotta. You can also use a cast iron pan, flipped upside down, but I think a stone that can just live in your oven is more convenient.

2: Parchment paper will also ensure good color and even temperatures on your bakes. It seems like such a small thing, but it makes a huge difference in how things turn out. It's so valuable to me that now I buy the double giant mega pack of parchment from Costco. As a bonus, it also makes cleanup a ton easier, which is nice because if you're living in a trailer, you probably don't have a dishwasher.

3: You'll also want an oven thermometer, unless you're like me and want to do a LOT of experimenting with temperature. My tiny oven runs cold, so if a recipe calls for 350, I have to crank it up to 375. Furthermore, I know it's tempting to save propane and do a short pre-heat. But this is a mistake. Remember, you have to heat the baking stone, and you will have prettier, tastier results if you let your oven heat for half an hour or more.

There you have it: my easy tricks for baking delicious treats in your RV. There is no better way to bribe the neighbors into becoming friends with me than a yummy plate of cookies or a hot sourdough baguette. If you're at a park one day and smell something baking, come and find me! I'm happy to feed you...I just don't want to have to introduce myself.