Running Start
A half marathon, a goodbye, and a very long road ahead.
I’m still alive, if you were wondering.
I survived the San Francisco half-marathon, the 800 miles of traffic getting there, and a whole lot of dog diarrhea. The good news: Raven is safely with my ex, my car pulled through her illness, and I managed not to cry until mile eleven of the race. Kidding. I killed it. But the hill on mile eleven, climbing back up to the Golden Gate Bridge, was cruel.
To catch up, let’s rewind.
I hit a life speed bump when a band of chipmunks hopped up on sweet Washington acorns took over my attic1. Meanwhile, the rats who used to live above my next-door neighbor’s chicken coop relocated to my crawlspace. My house is 105 years old, so the slew of cracks and vent gaps was understandable. What I didn’t expect was for closing those gaps, exterminating the critters, and replacing all my insulation to cost almost $20,000. Once the contractor got into the attic, they found substantial mold too (thanks, Washington), which pushed that number even higher. After two years of near-zero film production work and the slow growth of my graphic design business, that was the last of my savings.
But selling my house isn’t an option. Not yet, at least. For me, selling would be giving up.
I’d been saving toward a handful of fall trips—Oklahoma and North Carolina to see family, my thirtieth high school reunion in Las Vegas2, and a New York City film premiere for an indie I designed—but after the chipmunk hit job, going anywhere seemed impossible.
Then a friend suggested I rent the place out and become a digital nomad. A what? I feel very old when there are terms (complete lifestyles) I am unaware of. A few lost hours of YouTube, then podcasts, and it sounded... interesting, but the amount of work and expense required to turn my three-bedroom house3 into a viable rental gave me massive anxiety. I’m a pretty private person. I mean, I don’t even have a guest room. Putting my things in storage to allow someone to sleep in my bed and bathe in my clawfoot tub felt too close to selling it. I had flashbacks of my early divorce days, crashing on couches in L.A., living out of suitcases. Where do you go when there’s no paycheck or production to anchor you?
The only sane option for my mental health was a short-term rental. In theory, it would cover some repair costs, give me time to save my small freelance income, and still allow me travel a bit — or as I started to frame it, roam. That word helped.
For almost twenty years, I’ve had production jobs that last 4-6 months, often on location, to break up the monotony of life. I always assumed the film industry’s instability was something I tolerated, but maybe I actually need it. My ADHD brain thrives in motion. I’ve always adapted easily to temporary housing, capsule wardrobes, flights every other weekend. Maybe I’ve been a nomad all along.
I’d been training for the San Francisco half-marathon, thinking that trip would be the only thing I did this year. My ex agreed to meet before to take Raven for a while so I could have a break. Having dogs is wonderful, but also restrictive, especially big dogs who don’t travel well.4 Still, the big question was how this nomadic period of travel worked. I’m still broke. I can’t stay at hotels or fly all over the country.
I spent a day or three binging YouTube videos by Nomad Unknown and other women who car camped solo for various reasons, and suddenly the idea of a real adventure clicked. I remember my last trip to Colorado5—how the trip lit me up. I let my wanderer side fade into the background for too long. Driving to new places, listening to audiobooks, taking photos—these are the things that restore my curiosity and creativity. Storytelling and an eye on composition refuel my brain. This situation, which felt like a punishment, was forcing me to move. And fast.
The repairs are done. I packed up my bathroom and closet6, stowed my boat, found a renter through friends7, acquired some car camping supplies, and took off within two weeks. I tend to do things impulsively. Maybe it’s the ADHD. Maybe it’s just survival instincts to keep from changing my mind. On day two, when Raven shat all over the car I will at times be camping in, I questioned everything. But I kept going. And I’ll share the whole messy saga here and… on YouTube? I couldn’t decide how best to share my adventures and all the glorious audiobooks I’ll listen to… but I documented the hell out of my learn-to-row obsession. This is just another ridiculous chapter that I figure we can at least laugh about.
I’m feeling weird about it because I’m not used to being on camera. Omg, no. I’ve spent my entire career behind it…. Actually, ahead of it.
Still, I’m bearing it all. Raw. No makeup or shame8. If you’re going through something, maybe you’ll laugh with me or feel better knowing you’re not shampooing dog diarrhea out at the Marin gas station just before the Golden Gate Bridge entrance. Look for (and Subscribe to) Bookish Nomad.
Book reviews will still show up here, but mood boards are on hold for a while. I’ve been listening to audiobooks and have a stack of paperbacks in the car, so let’s talk books.
Books on the Road This Week:
Wrong Place Wrong Time by Gillian McAllister
⭐⭐⭐
I appreciated the concept — a woman going backward through time to prevent a crime — but I had trouble staying engaged. There’s a lot of repetition, which makes sense for the structure (it’s essentially a domestic thriller version of Groundhog Day), but it didn’t suit my new road trip brain. I think it’s a book designed to be picked up in short bursts rather than consumed all at once. I was all in for the first half, because the mystery unfolds cleverly and the emotional stakes are strong, but I lost some momentum in the second half when the twists made me almost as dizzy as the I-5 through Oregon’s windy mountain roads. The premise hinges on a mother who witnesses her son just after he’s murdered a man. In the immediate aftermath, she falls asleep and wakes up the day before the murder. Then, of course, she keeps going back in time every time, and when she wakes up she believes she’s given more and more time to try and unravel how that moment came to be to stop it. It’s clever but sometimes the gimmick feels like it’s driving the bus with no destination.
Regardless, I recommend it for fans of twisty time loops and layered reveals with a strong emphasis on the lengths of a mother’s love.
Penitence by Kristin Koval
⭐⭐⭐
I feel strange like I missed something because so many people have loved this one and recommended it. You know when that happens and it doesn’t click, I immediately assume it was my frame of mind. I think I found this one first through Sarah’s Bookshelves and started it while driving through Bay Area traffic. I guessed the ending early. This is the hazard of loving thrillers and mysteries, but it’s also the reason we love them. Puzzles are fun, but arriving too early takes a bit of the shine off. I found myself skipping full chapters, especially during long flashbacks or character backstories that didn’t feel earned. Koval’s structure reminded me of a TV procedural with a few info dumps that I sympathized over. It’s so hard to get the right information in there.
I struggled to connect with the ski-town childhood trauma that’s central to the plot, maybe because I associate skiing with wealthy lifestyles (I know that’s a bit silly, but people didn’t ski in my Oklahoma childhood), but it is a fascinating lifestyle. The lost-love romance thread didn’t resonate, or maybe I just found that it moved very slow. That’s usually a good thing when driving long stretches, but there were also coincidences (a lot of them) and that’s a pet peeve of mine. The characters were realistically intertwined, and the book was entertaining. I think a lot of readers will enjoy this book. This might just be a case of wrong book, wrong mood.
The beauty of a road trip is the variety of books I get to try too, with a focus I can’t get in day-to-day life. Heads up… my next two reads were 5-stars, so I’ll share those next week.
Articles to Look For:
The Urban Cowboy Soundtrack - It’s been 45 Years and although the film leaves mixed feelings, the music was a masterclass in soundtrack production
The Lost City was Romancing The Stone 2.0, Right? - My side-by-side comparison of the Golden Globe winning film from 1984 and the adventure hit from 2022.
F1: Speed and Style Without A Heartbeat - if you love driving fast or are willing to give Brad Pitt another chance, I had some thoughts about his latest blockbuster film
Remember them from previous post? I’m pretty sure I mentioned the Lallapalooza festival they were throwing in my attic every afternoon.
Despite having missed the last two reunions.
Which technically has only one bedroom with an office and a gym.
Hence, the car anxiety sickness she’s developed with age.
Two years ago, I went to the Sand Dunes National Park with a group of UK strangers on a photography trip that was as close to a safari on US soil as I could find. I got hooked on African safari photo trips back in 2018-19, but haven’t had the means to return to that level of travel.
Which has entirely too many clothes that I will be selling off on Poshmark when I return.
Really, the most wonderful sign of luck I’ve had in years was to find someone wonderful and trustworthy who needed my home in that exact moment for a short time. I don’t usually believe in signs, but I’m Irish enough to accept the superstitious timing of such perfection.
That’s a lie. I’m a recovering Catholic. All I know is guilt and shame. But I’ll wear it under a smile like a good girl.