Airstream Dreams: Part II

The Airstream is home.  We think we're going to call her "The Silver TARDIS," but that's still up for debate.  I love catching a glimpse of her out the kitchen window and remembering how we found her and made her ours.

As we've gone through all of our plans and dreams the past few years, one of the people we've talked with a lot has been Trevvor's mom, who is beginning her own adventure now too.*  We were all in this unsettled place, knowing we needed to do something different but not sure what that something looked like.  During our "whirlwind trip to everywhere" at the end of May, we had the chance to talk through these ideas again in person.  "Well you know," she said, "I'm going to need a place to live when I come back to the States in a few years."  That changed everything, because now we were looking at Airstreams as co-owners with her: Trevvor, Charles and I living it in now, and Leslee living in it later on.

One evening early in the last week of the trip, Leslee and I were looking at AirstreamClassifieds.com, just casually, you know, to see what was out there.  I had pulled up all the Airstreams that were in the states we'd be traveling home through (there aren't many Airstreams in Alabama).
One ad really jumped out:  It was 31 ft, perfect for full-time living; a 1975 model (our favorite decade of Airstreams); a center bath, which meant we wouldn't have to walk through Charles' room to use the bathroom at night and also avoided the problem of the heavy rear-bath separating from the frame; they had installed a composting toilet like we wanted, opening up our parking options since we won't need a black-water connection; the floors had been redone with a lovely pine board, exactly what we wanted; there was already a large fridge for all the produce we buy; and all the built-in furniture had been removed, so now we could include exactly and only what we needed.  AND it was only 20 minutes off our route through Virginia.  AND it was under $10,000 (a very reasonable price for such a find). Ummm, yes please!

So we emailed the owners and arranged to see her on Friday as we traveled south.  Our last few days were very full--both packing up Leslee for her big trip and preparing ourselves for a possible very big purchase.  They sent us the link to their blog they'd used while they renovated it the previous year, and it was really neat finding so many similarities between them and us and so many parallels in our journeys.

When we arrived at their farm Friday afternoon, I was trying not to be too excited.  We explored the Airstream thoroughly.  We discussed its purchase rationally.  And then, we told her we'd take it.  On the condition that we could find a way to haul it down.

So we put the word out on Facebook.  By the next day, we had a two different trucks we could borrow.  (Our friends are so generous!  Seriously.)  Our plan was to make the trip back to Virginia two weeks later to bring her home.

But that's a whole 'nother chapter.

*Leslee is moving to Australia, ultimately to teach, and has sold her house, her car, and her possessions (less a very small storage unit) for an undetermined period of time.  Helping her give away and pack up and throw out all her stuff during our trip really got us excited about doing the same thing at our house.

Airstream Dreams: Part I

It started with heavy doses of reading Little House on the Prairie and The Boxcar Children in elementary school.  I remember thinking how incredible Ma Ingalls was, keeping a such a small, basic home so well and cheerfully.  How creative oldest sister Jessie was in transforming an abandoned boxcar into a comfortable escape for her and her siblings.

All children love small spaces.  We all loved making blanket forts, sitting under tables, cozying up in a closet, setting up in play-houses, sleeping in lofts or tents.  (Well, at least I did.  But maybe I was just as weird then as I am now.)  My reading about families making homes of small spaces just encouraged this enjoyment.

As I grew up, my expectations of comfort changed from closets to over-sized houses.  When Trevvor and I got married and I saw our apartment for the first time, I cried.  How could I set up house in only 450 square feet??  But I did, and when we moved out, I cried again.

After several more moves and a house-purchase later, we were all set up in our current home: a three-bed, two-bath, modest 1200 square foot split-level in a 1970s Birmingham suburb.  It was a good "starter-home," I figured, and that summer we settled in for a least five or ten years.

But after a few months, the moving itch started.  The maintenance and constant grass-mowing was getting tiresome.  We hadn't known how great we had it when we were living smaller!

About that time, we discovered the Tiny House Movement, as it's known.  Here were people choosing to live in less than 200 square feet!  Every inch of these homes was filled with both beauty and purpose.  "Wow," we said.  "That's what we want."  The THM was like a gateway, and one of the worlds it opened up was that of the shiny Airstream.  Simplicity and flexibility.  Way too cool.

But we'd just bought this house, and we wanted to start a family, so we kept chugging away at the American Dream, accepting the status quo, albeit in a rather grumbly way.  We didn't want to be discontent, so we tried to bloom where we were planted, yet every few months, some new hippie scheme would surface, only to be covered up again by the reality of those devilish details.

That was nearly three years ago.

When Charles was born last January, we said, "We're staying put!  We have the baby to think of!"  We also had four cats and a dog.  We would never fit in a tiny house of any kind, especially since we wanted more kids!

But once we settled into life with a baby (sometime around his six month birthday), the itch started itching again.  "We could do this with a baby," we thought, looking around at all of the space and stuff in our house we barely used and thinking of all the time and money we spent keeping up a house and yard we didn't even want.

So we started looking into selling our house.  We listed lots of stuff for sale on Craigslist and eBay.  I spent probably untold hours looking at used Airstreams online and reading tiny-house/minimalism blogs.  Because by now, we'd narrowed our small-living dream down to Airstreams.

During the last nine months, this dream has come on and off, as those details would surface again and we would decide it was impossible.  As some of you know, our plans have changed quite a lot.  We looked at selling our house with a realtor, selling our house ourselves, renting our house ourselves.  Buying a smaller house, renting a smaller house, renting an apartment.  Staying in Birmingham, moving to Huntsville, moving to Georgia.

But the Airstream kept "shining through our murky plans," as it were.  For a while, we even thought we'd be out of our house and full-timing it by April 19.  Obviously that date came and went, and still no firm timeline of what we wanted to do and when.  We just knew why.

And last week, the "why," apparently, proved to be enough.

...TBC :)

Not a day, but a lifestyle.

Thanksgiving, that is.  

I saw that on a church sign today:  "Thanksgiving is not a day; it's a lifestyle."

How true, I thought.  But then, Is that my lifestyle?  Do I live a life of thanksgiving?

If I have to be honest, I know the answer is generally "no."  I'm a selfish, whiny, lazy person, and recently I've realized even more that I take some of the most wonderful blessings for granted:  my serving husband, my loving child, my accepting family, my warm house, my loyal friends, my cuddly kitty, my nutritious food.  How often do I thank God for these things?  I more often find myself wishing something about one of them were different.  How often do I thank my family and friends for loving me?  I more often remind them of their faults.  How often to I show gratitude to my husband for providing a place to live and good food to eat?  I more often look at other houses online or ask to go out to eat.

I want to change that.  I want to live a live of gratitude and joy and contentment--I want to be those things for my children's sake, for my husband's.  Change my heart, Lord--make it more like Thine.

I hope all of you had a fabulous holiday; I know we did.  We spent the week at my childhood home with my family, and it was a wonderful balance of time in the house and out of it, cooking and eating, resting and activity, family and friends.  We had a gluten-free Thanksgiving dinner, which was really quite delicious.  Mom and Trevvor both got pretty creative to make some fun gluten-free pumpkin treats for us throughout the week.  Being there with them all week made me realize how valuable it is to be near family, especially with a little one.  Praise God for placing me in a family that loves each other and sticks together and wants to be around one another even when we don't have to be!

Fleeing Negativity

I guess I'm just weird.  ("Well, duh," you're thinking.)  But it seems that I am fighting a lot of battles on Facebook, battles which have no victor, no matter who gets the last word.  Whether it was religion, politics, mommy-decisions, health, or just daily observations, it seemed that whatever I posted, someone would usually respond negatively, either in a comment or message. (I want to know:  Where are these repeat-challengers when I try to find sponsors for a child in need?  Hmm...)

And that's okay.  I mean, I posted it, so if I didn't want a discussion, well... I shouldn't have posted it.  But I couldn't let things drop, so I would get all worked up, and things would go on and on, and when that battle was over, there would be another waiting just a short scroll down my Newsfeed.

It's just not worth it.

It was draining me, pulling me down.  Were some of these discussions worth having?  Sure.  Does that mean that it's the best thing for me to continue having them?  Maybe not right now.  I am just so tired of having my every decision and opinion and viewpoint challenged by someone somewhere for some reason.  So tired.  Not as in "annoyed," but as in literally "exhausted."  I want to be able to relax and not constantly be on the defense for everything I believe in.

So I'm taking a breather.  I'm trying to figure out how to temporarily delete my account for at least the rest of the month.  First my Droid, now Facebook... I guess I really am a (weird) hippie.  ;)

If you need me, you know where to find me!

On Disconnecting

I got my first Droid at the end of 2010.  It was great.  I downloaded all these apps, stayed on top of things on Facebook, found my way around with Google Maps, discovered geo-caching and Yelping, calorie tracking, Instagram, Pandora in my pocket, etc.  It became like a third arm or something.  A tool for my life.

But over time I noticed that it was stealing my life.  In little 30-second blips.  Ten-minute breaks.  A check-in here, a tweet there.  Tick, tick, tick.

I considered getting rid of it before Charles was born, but then when he arrived, I absolutely relied on it to get anything done at all.  He was a very "in arms" baby, and my days at home were spent in our ugly but oh-so-comfy plaid rocker, holding him as he nursed and slept, with phone in-hand.  It was great, and I'm glad I had it during that time.

But as he started needing more interaction, more eye-contact, I started to realize that I was putting him off so I could scroll a bit more through Facebook or finish watching that YouTube video.  But I didn't want to give it up!  I used it to upload pictures of him to Instagram, right?  And to stay in touch with other mommas and get advice about him, didn't I?  So really it was good for Charles that I had it... wasn't it?

Yet the feeling that I was loosing moments of his babyhood to this hypnotic screen kept nagging me.

It didn't take long for Charles to become preoccupied with the screen too, and to reach for it and stare at it right along with me.  I didn't like that at all.  I didn't want him to be like all those kids--even toddlers--with the iPods glued to their hands all day.  I didn't want it to be a digital pacifier, an easy way to keep him quiet while ignoring whatever real need he wanted met.  I don't want him to be the two-year-old that's fluent in touch-screen-ese.

So last week we bought a used flip-phone on eBay.  Today we went to the Verizon store and "down-graded" my account.  And I am now the proud user of a Samsung Convoy 2.  I feel so free--it's such a relief to be un-tethered.  It's been a strange afternoon; I keep pulling it out to "do something" with it, but there's nothing to do except text folks (because who actually uses to a cell phone to call people anymore, right?) and take the occasional picture with the okay-camera.

I want to be fully present with my family, just as I want them to be fully present with me.  It will definitely be an adjustment, but I feel I've made a good decision.