Wheels Down, Dreams Up

It might look impulsive from the outside—selling our house and moving into an RV—but trust me, this was no whim. The breadcrumbs were there. Rob bought a truck months ago, one capable of towing something substantial. He left for a routine doctor’s appointment at 9 AM and came back at 4 PM with a gleaming beast of a vehicle that looked ready to haul a small village. That truck was a promise: we were going somewhere, even if we didn’t know where yet.

Once the house sale looked like it was finally happening (after three months of showings, staging, and existential dread), Rob found the RV. It wasn’t flashy, but it had good bones—solid structure, clean systems, and just enough character to be charming. It also had dark wood, cheap linoleum, and a design aesthetic best described as “early faux Tuscan.” It was ours, but definitely not our style.

We’ll renovate it eventually—paint, flooring, maybe a backsplash that doesn’t scream 2007—but not while we’re living in it. We’ve learned that living small is one thing; living small in a construction zone is a whole other level of chaos. So for now, we’re making do, learning the ropes, and trying to make this rolling rectangle feel like home.

The neighbors were… less than thrilled when a 40-foot RV pulled up to the curb like it was staying for Thanksgiving. There it sat, bold and unapologetic, while we packed it full of what we could, gave away what we couldn’t, and tried to find ways to soften the hard edges of its interior.

We’ve spent more than we care to admit on Amazon—buying things you never knew you needed until you live in an RV. Hooks, bins, collapsible everything. Decor that won’t shatter when you hit a pothole. It's packing and stacking, stuffing and storing.

We worked hard to make the bed comfy—because if you can’t sleep, you can’t dream. And my biggest challenge? Fitting a bathroom’s worth of anti-aging skincare into three tiny drawers. It was like trying to pack a spa into a shoebox. But I did it. Mostly.

The dogs are thrilled. Daisy, our soulful giant, has claimed the passenger seat as her throne. Luna, our bouncy bunny-in-a-dog-suit, thinks every trip is an adventure to her personal playground. Rob is building things with his hands again. I’m writing, planning, dreaming.

This blog is the beginning of that story. While it's technically the before, it's also the here and now.  The messy, magical middle where the dream is still unfolding, and the land is calling.

Coming soon: Our first night on wheels. Let’s just say… it wasn’t exactly a Pinterest moment. There were barking dogs, a mystery beeping sound we couldn’t locate, and cabinets that felt like they were stuffed with regrets. But somewhere between the tangled cords, the too-small drawers, and the laughter echoing off aluminum walls, we realized: this might actually work. Or at least make a great story.