Rotting Chicken and Q-Tips...How It All Began

It began with rotting chicken and Q-Tips. Or, if you want to go back even a bit further, it started in the hospital.

I get asked quite often how I began this life of traveling, if I'm ok with moving so often, and even sometimes judged for Dan and myself's lifestyle. And so, for my part, I will now set the record straight.

This was my cozy little Bedroom...

I have always enjoyed traveling. I had also, in my life, moved quite a bit simply for the joy of new places, people, and experiences. Being a gypsy by blood, I guess maybe it really IS just in me to love the gypsy lifestyle. Then, due to unforeseen (my Crohn's fell back out of remission) and tragic circumstances, I found myself living in Erie, Pennsylvania in a little cottage all my own. I loved that little house. For the first year. Then I found the itch to leave was too great, and yet I had no ability to do so because of my Crohn's really causing so many issues. I lived in that little cottage for almost 3 years. Then along came Dan.

We met online casually. I had no interest in dating, as I was sick and not comfortable with putting that on anyone. So, we struck up a friendship and wrote for awhile. Then, I found myself in the hospital...yet again. Dan offered to come visit me. I didn't want him to see me like that, so I told him, "Sure. You can come. If you can find me." Now, I knew full well I was under a protective order that meant hospitals would never confirm or deny if I was a patient. What I did NOT realize is that Dan was intent upon this challenge. So of the 4 hospitals in town, he walked in...showed his medical badge...and said he needed to know which room his patient (me) was in. Sneaky little bugger. Next thing I know, there he was...tucking his hair behind his ears, Affliction shirt, motorcycle jacket...bearing flowers...shy as could be. I, for my part, was 89 pounds, bald, and laying drugged up in a hospital bed. We talked for 4 hours, but I was convinced I looked so horrific that it would be the end of him.

It wasn't.

Dan's Living Room...

Dan...against all odds...LIKED me. Despite my opposition to dating AT ALL, he finally got me over to his house. That's when I knew. In his living room, there was a broken futon, a milk crate as a side table, a little bookshelf, a lamp, a lawn chair, a box fan, and HUGE Flat Screen TV. He knew I liked Reese Cups, and there...in the fridge...were 3 things. Rotting chicken, a 48-bulk pack of Reese Cups (for me!), and 2 Q-Tips. I just knew it. He was going to be the man for me. I LOVED how he had the house set up. It wasn't, say, MY style...but it was endearing.

His concern was how I would take the traveling lifestyle. Most women want that home...to nest...to travel for vacation, yes, but to return home. Even owning furniture and choosing your decorating style is often just taken for granted but something that most women WANT. I won't say I didn't enjoy setting up my own little home. Whether my places in NYC or my little home in Erie, I was a bit of a Suzy-Homemaker (almost much to my horror...Hehe). However, I am NOT most women. So, I'm sure there was question in his mind if I'd stay with him when it came time to begin traveling again. I'm sure he was concerned about my health and traveling...whether or not I'd be able to physically handle it. (I am now in remission, and have been for 8 months now) However, after having lived together for a time and getting engaged, it was time to make that choice. To decide whether or not it was something that I could (or indeed would) do. So, away went the furniture. Off came the art and photos from the walls. A storage locker was rented and suitcases came out. It's still always somewhat intriguing to me how little one ACTUALLY needs to live for a 3-4 month contract. The rest remains in storage.

The offers for permanent jobs come and go. It's not that we can't take them. It's simply that when we discuss it over as a couple, we still go back to this traveling gypsy life. Top of the line cars are provided for us. Housing is arranged and provided for us. To a degree, we get to pick where in the country we will take contracts. Sometimes only one contract is open, and so that is the place we go. However, no matter where we go, it's an experience...and we soak it up the whole time. Now, a year and a half later, we are married and still chasing the dream across these United States. I am a professional photographer now, and take photos of all we see and do...and in fact now sell my prints online. It's a profession that lends itself well to constant travel...although I attended college for Criminal Justice, Social Work, Sociology, and Psychology, and went to NYC to join the NYPD once upon a time.

Our loft Living Room in Cleveland...

Some say my husband and I do this because we can't keep a job. Some have said we can't keep a house. Comments have been made that demean my being on disability and thus becoming a photographer. Our motives are constantly questioned and then judged. People simply don't understand it and oftentimes even get cruel because of it. I will tell you this. We OWN a house. We OWN a car. Anyone can get a job and a house...and "live the American Dream" as they see it. This just happens to be OUR American Dream...and whether it's a 3-story townhouse in Montana, a 6th floor loft in downtown Cleveland, or a hotel suite in South Dakota...I'm not looking to have my life any other way.

To think it all started because 1 guy took a chance on a girl in the hospital, and 1 girl took a chance on a guy with some rotting chicken and Q-Tips. Love can't be explained, but we love one another...and we sure as heck love our crazy little life...