Living in a Golden State of mind.

We have officially made it more than a month in the RV! It was a little rocky there for a bit, with our Expedition resembling the little engine that could while it chugged and dragged our heavy RV up mountain passes throughout California, but we slowly ventured down to San Diego, enjoyed our three-week stay, and made our way back up to Oregon.

While we were in the San Diego area, we stayed almost a week in a hotel in the city and took the kids to LEGOLAND, Sea World, and the San Diego Zoo and Safari Park. When we’d arrived at our campground in Jamul, about 20 minutes outside San Diego, we were unable to secure a site with full hookups (which a family of five definitely needed for a three-week stay), and the whole helter-skelter check-in and site selection process felt a lot like a Black Friday/Wild West mashup. So escaping to the city and enjoying the luxuries of a hotel—like hot water usage and city sewer and free breakfast—for six nights was very restorative.

Our kids, especially our middle son, have been begging to go to LEGOLAND for more than a year, and getting them there had us feeling a lot like Clark Griswold’s quest to attend Wally World with his family. Between car trouble, a last-minute RV repair, and a trip to the veterinary ER when our dog swallowed a bee and broke out in full-body hives (TWICE!) just after recovering from a bout of upset stomach from ingesting a foreign object, we could have starred in that movie ourselves. But we made it through, thankfully only slightly worse for the wear.

We opened and closed the park, staying a total of 10 hours. We rode every ride and visited every attraction at least once. The kids were absolutely euphoric as we dragged our worn-out bodies and aching feet out to the parking lot, their hands filled with mini figures and LEGO sets that they bought with birthday money, declaring that their visit to LEGOLAND was the absolute best day of their lives. (A big thanks to Kelley’s parents for funding the kids’ tickets as birthday presents this year.)

The San Diego Zoo and Safari Park days were some of the hottest in San Diego, with the most walking, especially when Eva left her Columbia sun shirt in a bathroom near the back of the zoo, and I half-walked, half-jogged the entire outside loop for a second time to track it down. (Unfortunately, it was long gone by the time we realized it was missing, but at least I got some great exercise in.) Our collective favorite part of the zoo was the Australian Outback area, which featured a handful of adorable koalas sleeping in eucalyptus trees. (Or maybe it was the misting stations that smelled like eucalyptus, which cooled us off and felt more like a spa than a zoo).

The best part of the Safari Park, which took almost another full day, was riding the open-air tram (included in admission) through the African savannah exhibit. It was the closest thing to a genuine safari that one can get without paying exorbitant African safari prices. From the tram, we were able to watch animals found on the African plains in their natural habitat (sans the apex predators; that would have made for an entirely different type of park.) And the extreme heat really added to the authenticity of the African-themed park. I was a little jealous watching the herd of elephants romp around in their cooling pool (with a splashy waterfall) munching on watermelon.

Sea World has always been a childhood favorite of Kelley’s, so we also took the kids to the San Diego location while we were there. Because of all the water involved, including a couple of rounds on some water rides, my phone mostly stayed in our rented locker, so I didn’t get many photos. But we thoroughly enjoyed the dolphin, orca, and sea lion shows (I might have teared up a little at the dolphin show finale—those creatures were having so much fun together!) and the Shipwreck Mountain rapids ride.

Liam and I even braved the new Emperor floorless free-fall roller coaster—which included a 14-story 90-degree vertical drop at more than 60 miles per hour. I’ve always been somewhat of a thrill seeker and have loved roller coasters since childhood, but it is a completely different experience riding it as a parent, watching your firstborn dangle his feet in 143 feet up in the air while being suspended at a 45-degree angle above the earth. I had the lady sitting on the other side of him holding on to him, too, lest his lanky little self slip out of his harness at any point, especially when I almost blacked out on the free-fall. Thankfully, we made it out alive, though a little lightheaded and nauseous.

In between theme parks, we had the opportunity to explore some of San Diego’s more popular neighborhoods, including dinner (and another lunch) at Cafe Coyote in Old Town and a stroll through Liberty Station, a former naval base turned artisanal neighborhood filled with restaurants, shops, and art galleries. There, we meandered through the old barracks and sampled some gelato at Parfait Paris and a variety of flavors at the Mini Donut Co. I wish we’d had more time at Coronado Beach, though we did the ocean-view drive through the peninsula one Saturday afternoon. I also would have spent some me-time window shopping at Fashion Valley, a higher end shopping mall where we stopped one morning and grabbed cold brews at Better Buzz Coffee. (The kids were bored with all the “grown-up” stores—Williams-Sonoma, Armani Exchange, and Prada, to name a few—so we made our visit brief.)

A few logistics that made our week in San Diego more enjoyable: we made a reservation for our dog, Ranger, to stay at the Petsmart’s Petshotel in La Jolla (close to Sprinkles cupcake parlor, which we of course partook of—they were absolutely the best cupcakes we’ve ever had), and I can’t say enough good things about the place. They were genuinely excited to see him, and he was pampered all week—playdates, bubble machines, indoor playground time, and a bath and nail trim including cologne for when we picked him up. We booked the Comfort Inn and Suites on Hotel Circle with our Capital One travel points, which, although I can’t really recommend the outdated, under-serviced hotel, it was a central location allowing easy access to each destination on our trip (and they had free breakfast and comped our garage parking—I don’t recommend the free street parking). I was impressed at how accessible every park or neighborhood was, and it only took about 10-15 minutes to get anywhere we wanted to go.

One thing we’ve started doing on trips like this is washing all of our laundry in the hotel laundry room the night before we check out of the hotel. That way, we aren’t heading home with loads of laundry awaiting us. All of our clothes from the week were clean and already folded when we arrived back at our RV campground.

We also found a nearby grocery store and grabbed easy meal items for the hotel to cut down on dining expenses, saving our eating-out budget for places we really wanted to try, rather than just fast food drive-thrus for last-minute meals. I bought stuff for cold deli sandwiches and kept plenty of fresh fruit and veggies, Once Upon a Farm smoothie pouches, packs of nuts, Good and Gather gluten-free bars, and string cheese on hand for snacks. Our mini-fridge was stocked full of healthy items to last us through the week.

Literally the best cupcakes we’ve ever had, right around the corner from where Ranger stayed.

The strawberry cupcakes at Sprinkles were melt-in-your-mouth delicious. The boys tried the gluten-free red velvet with cream cheese frosting.

We packed as much as we could into our time in San Diego, and I still feel like there was so much more to see, much more that we could have done. It’s a culturally diverse city with rich history, natural beauty, and endless fun, and I have a feeling this visit won’t be the last.

Snowshoeing on the Mirror Lake Trail

Tucked away neatly off Mount Hood Highway 26 between Welches and Government Camp lies the unassuming entrance to the beautiful Mirror Lake Trail. It’s the good-natured wingman to Mt. Hood Adventure Park—the quiet but cute counterpart to the boisterous, showy life-of-the-party originator of cosmic tubing and night skiing. But that’s the thing about wingmen—they are most often the ones actually worth getting to know. (I should know; I married one.)

While Mt. Hood Adventure Park may be full of obvious fun, the trail that shares its entrance doesn’t need all the bells and whistles. Instead, it relies on its understated but breathtaking natural landscape to lure in visitors—teasing views of neighboring mountainsides, sounds of water bubbling over rocks, glimmers of sunlight dancing on top of gleaming, crisp white billows of snow. It’s absolutely magical, awe-inspiring and drool-worthy for this Southern-born brood.

Our family spent the better part of New Year’s Eve breaking in our newly unwrapped snowshoes, sweating off our abundantly consumed holiday treats in a 22-degree winter wonderland on a two-mile stretch of the trail. While other families sipped champagne to bid sayonara to 2021, we sipped piping hot soup in Stanley canisters in our heated Subaru after trekking two-and-a-half hours almost four miles round-trip on a two-foot-wide path through a maze of powdery alpine snowdrifts.

The kids enjoyed the Yukon Charlie Snowsquall kids’ snowshoe kit from REI.

Our snowshoeing day trip sparked the beginning of a whirlwind romance; it was love at first try. Though our family of five initially looked more like newborn foals finding their legs, clonking and clapping through the icy parking lot, leaning a little too heavily on our poles for support, we quickly got the hang of it and slid single-file into a leisurely rhythm through the woods. With snowdrifts up to our shoulders in places, picturesque powder-piled bridges laid across bubbly brooks in others, we had left Portland in the rearview mirror and once again traversed the wardrobe into Narnia. All that was missing was a lamppost and friendly fawn.

The trail was so well packed that snowshoes probably weren’t necessary, but they added to the rigor and increased our trail-cred among the other outdoor enthusiasts we encountered. And there were plenty; it seemed we weren’t the only ones who unconventionally venture outdoors on holidays. We bid a Happy New Year about every five minutes to other snowshoers and cross-country skiers on the trail. One couple even brought along a bottle of wine for their hike and toasted to an exquisite mountaintop view through the treetops. The thing about outdoorsy people is they are almost always happy.

Breaking in the MSR Revo Explore women’s 22-in. snowshoes from REI.com. They wrap around my old hunting boots just fine. (You can take a girl out of the South but can never take the South out of the girl.)

The Mirror Lake Trail is wide enough for one person, but you’ll be hard pressed to find hikers who aren’t more than willing to cheerfully step aside for passersby. Everyone we encountered was high on holiday spirit and endorphins.

The question I get most often from friends is, “Don’t you get cold out there?!” Honestly, we don’t. The good thing about snowshoeing in a forest is that the trees block the wind, so it doesn’t feel as cold as the thermometer registers. (I personally haven’t been cold since I birthed my third child.) If anything, we overdress for the activity and need to shed layers. The kids started out with full head-to-toe coverage and eventually shed their balaclavas (bonus points if you can tell me how to pronounce that word), toboggans (or beanies, for you PNWers) and gloves and unzipped their 3-in-1 jackets. With winter outdoor activities, the trick to staying comfortable is to keep snow from touching your skin; waterproof (not water-resistant) gear is essential for enjoying long days out in the PNW alpine winter.

The only drawback was that we failed to realize the trail wound up a mountain. (I naively thought the lake would be at a lower elevation. I blame my near-sea-level Alabama upbringing.) Even though the temp was in the 20s, we huffed and puffed and shed layers along the trail. I personally cursed those extra helpings of Christmas cookies and creamy dips that made every step a painful reminder that I had foolishly foregone exercise over the holidays. Even after a snack break, we didn’t quite make it to the lake; we stopped about a half-mile short when the trail narrowed and the slope of the mountain steepened. Our 6-year-old had tired out and was beginning to lose good walking form, and I started having visions of violent avalanches and kids tumbling down the mountain like boulders. But the outing was magical nonetheless and earned its place on our list of Oregon destinations to revisit regularly.

The day I finally saw in color. (Baker Lake, Washington)

I disabled the last of my social media accounts this week. It might be the most freeing thing I’ve ever done.

I don’t know exactly what’s gotten into me lately, to be honest. Gumption? Sensory overload? Pandemic fatigue? Whatever it is, I’m just a completely different person than I was pre-pandemic, and there’s no going back to life as I once knew it; that includes my social media habits.

I think I noticed that something was different while we were on our recent trip in September. After our day in Port Townsend (see previous post here), we traveled by ferry to Burlington. We spent the next day driving through Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest until we reached Baker Lake to go paddleboarding. (When we Thompsons discover a new hobby, we really commit to it.)

I thought it couldn’t get any better than Lake Crescent, but I was wrong.

Baker Lake is utterly otherworldly. It was like I had been seeing in black and white my entire life and was suddenly seeing color for the first time. The lake was a translucent, bright, almost blinding turquoise under a cerulean sky, surrounded by fuzzy green forest and snowcapped mountains. It was too perfect to seem real. As the influencers say, no filter needed.

And I didn’t really feel the impulse to post it online.

In the moment, all I wanted to do was just be. Be present. Be still. Be in the moment and soak it all in through my eyeballs and not a smartphone screen. I realized that, up until that day, I had always felt so much pressure to document our experiences that I forgot to actually experience them. But Baker Lake was different. I still took some pictures and video, but I no longer felt the pull of social media calling me out of the moment and into a lesser virtual reality. It had lost all of its appeal.

There’s just something about marveling at something marvelous in real time, in real life, that will free you of any inclination to settle for a two-dimensional replica in a tiny Instagram square, hashtag blessed. It makes anything else seem dull. Sitting in the middle of the lake with no one but my family around me, with nothing but the sound of rippling waves and the occasional trout jumping out of the water, I just knew I couldn’t go back to all the societal noise when our vacation was over. All the soundbites and opinions and influencing and ambition and flaunting and bullying and trolling and clickbait and doomsday reporting and bickering over all the current things no longer seemed entertaining or relevant or even desirable.

We had an enjoyable simple picnic by the lake after more than two hours of paddling, and I decided then that my smartphone and social media habits had to change. This was the kind of high-definition I needed. I needed to be more connected to nature than the Internet. I needed more unplugged, adventurous moments like this. I needed to make a regular habit of marveling at the marvelous.

I’m not the only one in our family who felt like a new person after that trip. The best highlight of the day? Our middle son asked if he could be baptized in the lake. He had been considering it for a while, and we’d had many conversations about what it meant, but his anxiety would creep in and he’d back out. But he decided that was the perfect time and place, so Kelley baptized him beside the boat dock with a handful of strangers looking on.

I did unashamedly video that moment, and you can watch it here:

Embracing less to experience more.

We don’t always make life changes, but when we do, it’s “go big or go home.”

Which is exactly what we did. In July, we moved from our already cozy 1,000-square-foot ranch home with the big fenced backyard to a 972-square-foot apartment flat with a balcony. We’ve had some interesting reactions to this, so I thought I’d take a moment to explain our decision.

I started feeling the urge to get our home ready to sell when COVID-19 sent everyone into quarantine. We were some of the newer employees at our organization, so I wanted to be prepared in the event we were laid off and needed to sell our home. But the more we worked on our home, I kept having the thought, Well, what if we sold our home anyway?

The market was the best it had been or probably would be, so we felt confident we would receive the most for our home that we’d probably be able to get without putting a lot of serious work into it. Built in 1960, our home had some major impending repairs, if we stayed for much longer: the electrical, plumbing, original hardwood floors, and roof would all need replacing, and we didn’t have, nor would we want to spend, that kind of money on this particular house. Financially, it was a smart decision to sell, and with that sell, we were able to pay off credit card debt, auto loans, my student loan and medical bills, and create a generous emergency fund. The breathing room and peace of mind this has given us is simply priceless.

I also learned during quarantine that we lived two doors down from a drug house. During the day, we had a steady stream of “customers” parking stolen cars in front of our home and walking down to that house, and it was unsettling being home by myself with three kids. While we lived in a generally safe and quiet neighborhood, it really only takes one bad apple to spoil the bunch. We were constantly on high alert, and the residents of that home were becoming increasingly volatile. So we felt it was time to move on.

One of our family values is spending time adventuring together, but we spent so much of our time and money maintaining a home that it cut into our quality time as a family. Days off were filled with yard work and chores. Extra money that could be saved for travel was often spent on repairs or upgrades to the house. Downsizing to an apartment has afforded us the extra budget and time for the things we really enjoy. Evenings and weekends can be spent outdoors or exploring our beautiful state rather than on home maintenance.

For years, the house was the goal, as it is for many Americans. We’ve always heard that renting is just throwing away money, and that we should invest in real estate at the first opportunity. But renting offers a chance to invest in a life based on our values—debt-free, family-focused, people-serving, adventure-seeking—that owning a home just couldn’t offer (at least not with home prices in Portland). Besides, there’s a pool here.

The day we moved into our new space, I watched our daughter pirouette across the empty living room floor of our home as we said goodbye, and I thought about how much I would miss the house. The midcentury modern ranch layout with craftsman touches sprinkled in. Sitting under the twinkle lights on the back porch with my handsome man and a glass of wine after putting the kids to bed. Laying on a blanket in the backyard with my girl watching the planes fly overhead (oh yeah, we lived in a flight path). Fire pits with s’mores and backyard campouts. Sitting outside after schoolwork was over, racing to finish our popsicles before they dripped down our palms. Observing the baby bunny that lived under our shed lose its downy fluff and grow into its long legs through spring and summer. Playing volleyball and running through the sprinkler and chatting over the fence with our elderly neighbor—the one with the green thumb and the 8-foot corn stalks in his backyard. Processing deep theological truths over coffee in the living room with ladies in my small groups.

It was a place of refuge for our family over the past two years, and we made it our own. It was a place of exponential personal growth for each of us. But even with the emotions that inevitably bubble up after moving on, there is peace in taking a huge step to live more simply and attain financial freedom.

It’s odd that, now that we’ve been in the apartment for a month, we don’t really even think about our old house. Even without our big backyard, extra fridge in the garage, and home gym, we are enjoying our new space. Even with one less bedroom, we gained one more bathroom, some great amenities, and no maintenance. (Did I mention the pool?)

Less yard work, more weekend adventures. Less stuff, more creativity. Less chores, more hikes. Less repairs, more long-term savings. Less space, more togetherness.

Always and forever embracing less in order to experience so much more.