Living Better In Walton’s World: Weeks 44 and 45

Hello again from yet another state, as we hurtle full-speed back toward the east coast. We’re here in Memphis, Tennessee, on the right side of the Mississippi River for the first time since January. For lack of a better term, we’re back in the real world here. Because to be quite honest, two weeks in Northwest Arkansas feels a bit like a parallel universe, or one of those secret societies living in the mountains, isolated from the rest of the world, or maybe time travel.

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Goin’ Mobile: Week 16

Greetings – or should I say, howdy? We have arrived in a rainy and chilly Lone Star state, our home for the next five weeks – first, here in Austin, and then Alpine, in the heart of West Texas. Our drive here Sunday was a fairly grueling one of about ten hours, leading Morgan and me to conclude that Texas is simply too big, and something needs to be done about it.

A view from Lady Bird Lake, near our Airbnb
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Don’t You Forget About Me: Week 15

Greetings from Mobile, Alabama – a city we’ve now passed through three times and are finally getting to see. I’d never been to Alabama before, so I’m excited to explore a brand new state in the week we have here before we’re Texas-bound. But for all intents and purposes, we’ve been in a fairly uncharted portion of the map as far as Florida goes – the Forgotten Coast of the panhandle.

Mexico Beach, FL – Jan. 2022
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There’s No Place Like Home For The Flor-idays: Weeks 13 & 14

Hello and happy 2022 to our fine readers. We hope you’ve recovered from your New Year’s celebrations and have already completed the process of giving up on your resolutions. Since we left you, we’ve been largely “off the road” – until Sunday, when we packed up Linus and the rest of our lives and headed here, to Port St. Joe, on Florida’s Forgotten Coast.

Near Panama City Beach, FL – Jan. 2022
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Au Revoir and Bon Voyage: Weeks 11 & 12

Greetings and Happy Holidays to our loyal readers. Last week, we bid au revoir to New Orleans. And it is au revoir – not adieu. We will be back, even if New Orleans isn’t in our long-term plans. In fact, we’ll be sure to be back just a few months from now, for the wedding of some very good friends. We’ve won the war against The Party, even if it had some victories in battles along the way.

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I Know Where I Got My Shoes: Week 10


Hello again from New Orleans, where we have quickly evolved to deal with the new joys and hazards of our environment.

I can tell how much of a tourist I look like on any given day by the number of guys on the street who ask me some variation of, “hey, I bet you I can tell you where you got your shoes.” The answer is, of course, “on your feet” or “on XYZ street (wherever you’re currently standing.) This is then followed up by a request for money, or in some cases, extended harassment when money isn’t turned over. If I’m carrying my bright blue day pack, or sipping on a novelty drink, I’ll get asked. If I’m walking briskly enough, most people seem to assume I know what I’m doing and where I’m going, and leave me alone. This same phenomenon results in me getting asked for lots of directions, something I’ve given up on doing after realizing I may have sent someone slightly astray. Hope you found that laundromat, sir.

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We’ll Sleep When We’re Dead: Week 9

Greetings from the Big Easy as we enter our second week in this very, very unique place. There are fewer than 20 cities or districts in the United States where drinking on the street is legal. Without planning on it, we visited two in a row, and we’ll see another in January. It’s been quite a two-month stretch since we left D.C., a city I’d lived in so long I didn’t even realize how uptight it was.

But this was a busy week even by our new standards.

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So Long, Savannah, Bye-Bee to Tybee: Week 7

Hello from our final day in Tybee Island. Morgan and I have spent our final week taking care of last experiences and tying up loose ends, including getting a drink at the final dive bar of all of south Tybee’s offerings (The Wind Rose Cafe – great fries, better beer prices). After our brief parent visit interlude, things mostly returned to normal for us here, or as normal as things will get when you’re packing up your life every 30 days or less. This time next week, we’ll be in the Big Easy, swapping hoodoo for voodoo, the British for the French, and Jell-O shots for hurricanes.

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