A new car

Five years ago, I bought a car–a 1991 Pontiac Grand Am for $2,000.

To be completely honest, I hated it. It was nice in a new-almost-20-years-old kind of way, ran great, was built like an iron tank (for which I am exceedingly grateful)…but I just didn’t like it. That didn’t stop me from buying it; I needed a car and Mom said this was a good one. Up til then I had been sharing vehicles with Mom and Dad–it was time and past that I got my own. A friend told me not to worry, that I would come to like the car.

Shortly afterwards, on my second day of work at the first nursing home, the car broke down. That wasn’t a good day. There I was in Madison, stranded in a parking lot with a car that apparently thought belching out smoke from under the hood and refusing to start was great fun, and on top of that, I had forgotten to program my new work’s number into my phone. Like I said, not such a good day. But it sort of set a trend with the Pontiac–she’d break down frequently and I’d cuss at her, but despite that, I did come to love that car.

She was reliable (by which I mean that I knew exactly what to expect from her), hated Louisville and drive-throughs and sometimes intersections. Idling for more than ten minutes was a sure-fire way to overheat the engine. On the other hand, she was heavy and solid…the only thing that really put a dent in her was an EF-4 tornado and a big-ass deer bouncing over the top. Somethings would break and I’d learn what I could live without (like heat).

But eventually, all the little things just piled up too high. I was ready for a new car, one that got better gas mileage than 20 MPG, one that had heat, an engine that could idle safely, could go across the bridge without throwing a temper-tantrum, didn’t break down every 3-5 moths like clockwork, one that had a passenger side door that could open, a driver side door that could close all the way, a taillight made of more than colored strips of duct tape, and…well, you get the picture.

It took me months more than I expected, but I finally did it. Out with the old:
 
And in with the new

  

She’s a 2013 Kia Rio and I love her! At the dealership, I had to tell Mom to double check me on everything because I really wanted this one. Despite that, I stuck to my guns and my price limit and still ended up driving this beauty off the lot. Unlike the last few times I went used car shopping, I had an extremely positive experience–mostly because nobody tried to tell me that I deserve to lease a brand new vehicle or (incorrectly) assumed that Mom was the reason for my sticking points. This is, by the way, a sure-fire way to make me really cranky. Don’t tell me what I should want or assume that just because I’m not a “typical” 24 year old that I don’t make my own decisions! 

Anyways, the car. She’s gorgeous! She gets 35-40 MPG, all the doors open and close appropriately and I can go through a drive-through without overheating and dying! Plus, she’s got this nifty media hook up where I can listen to the music on my iPhone or iPad through the car’s speakers. Oh, and she’s got heat!

I’m in love!  

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Categories: ordinary life | 4 Comments

A sci-fi high

My parents weren’t really big into spanking. And even when they did spank me, it didn’t hurt physically. Like, at all. It was embarrassing, sure, but it was over quickly.

I’m afraid to say that spankings really didn’t stay with me. No, of all my childhood punishments, there is really only that really stuck with me, really made me rethink what I had done and resolve never to do it again.

I was about seven, we were at Nana and Papa’s and we were putting in The Empire Strikes Back to watch.

Maybe I should mention now that Empire was then and remains to this day my favorite of the Star Wars. 

Anyways, something happened–I’m not sure what, but I’m going to take an educated guess that it involved the words “Hannah” and “no”–and I threw a world-class temper tantrum. I’m quite good at making a scene when I want to. Dad told me to stop or I wouldn’t be allowed to watch the movie. I can quote you word for word what I thought: he wouldn’t dare. It’s Star Wars! You don’t miss Star Wars!

Safe in this utter conviction, I proceeded with my tantrum. Dad proceeded to pick me up and carry me out of the room. I was astounded…though not quite dumbstruck, I’m afraid. No, my outrage was vocalized at extreme decibels.

“I want to watch The Empire Strikes Back!!” I howled. 

“You should have thought of that a minute ago,” Dad told me.

“We can watch it later,” Nana said, probably thinking that with me carrying on like that, nobody was going to be hear anything anyway.

“No, we will watch Star Wars now, she won’t,” Dad said firmly.

Maybe he should have said “you will watch it” and not “we” because he spent the next several minutes keeping me downstairs. I was quite furious at being kept from The Empire Strikes Back. It was cruel and unusual punishment and I was convinced if I yelled about it enough, Dad would recognize the utter injustice and let me back up to watch it. But the movie kept on playing without me. Unfortunately, I had watched it so many times that I knew exactly what I was missing. Luke was calling on the Force to retrieve his light saber when I gave up yelling and just sobbed. Han and Chewie were blasting the Imperal probe droid when Dad finally purposed a compromise: I calmed down and he would let me watch The Return of the Jedi tomorrow. I can tell you, the thought of this experience being repeated with another Star Wars stopped me cold. 

Even then, Vader was storming the Rebel base before I had quite cried myself out. No stubbornness was worth this, I thought. I resolved that, when Star Wars was on the line at least, that I would behave myself.

I actually had a point with this post. 

Growing up, Star Wars was almost sacred ground. Watching Star Wars meant everything was alright in the world…or at least that they would be, eventually. It was our chicken noodle for the soul.

Then it was 1999 and The Phantom Menace was released–and I thought: Okay…

Then it was 2002 and Attack of the Clones came out–and I thought: Wait, what?

Then it was 2005 and The Revenge of the Sith premiered–and I thought: Excuse me?

They were decent, shot through with sometimes horrible and sometimes great…but they were missing that Star Wars feel. I wasn’t sure they were soup and I definately knew they weren’t chicken noodle. In the last ten years, I have held on to my love of Star Wars, I’m proud to say. But I was a fan despite (or maybe to spite) George Lucas…because really, how can you so misunderstand your own story? Star Wars is about Luke Skywalker and the scrappy underdogs. It’s about the a Princess who can fire a blaster and take charge of her own rescue. It’s about loyalty and love from people who can’t properly speak to us. It’s about a not-so-selfish scoundrel with a not-so-reliable ship. It’s about a cute green thing smacking a stick against a cute blue and white thing. It’s about the warrior who won by throwing away his saber and putting his faith in his friends to do what they said they would do. It’s about the man behind the mask smiling at his son. It’s whatever I need it to be: rollicking good fun, witty one-liners or an almost metaphysical tale about how love is the greatest power you could ever have. It’s a safe place to hang my imagination and recharge. It’s part of my image of home.

It’s been rough, loving something so brutalized by its creator, so CGI-ed out of its soul.

Then it was 2012 and Disney bought Star Wars–and I thought: Can’t be any worse than Lucas.

Then it was 2013 and J.J. Abrams was named director–and I thought: He’s got a Star Wars soul.

Then it was April 2014 and the cast photo came out–and I thought: This could be something.

Then it was June 2014 and Harrison Ford broke his leg–and I thought: At least the Falcon’s real enough to break bone.

Then it was November 2014 and the first trailer came out–and I thought: It actually looks like Star Wars !

Then it was April 10th, 2015 and I bought the Original Trilogy on iTunes–and I thought: Can I really bear to be disappointed again?

Then it was April 18th and I finally brought myself to watch the second teaser trailer.

Now it’s today and I’m still on a sci-fi high the likes of which I’ve never been on before. I’ve heard Mom talk about how it felt to watch Star Wars for the very first time and I remember how that was the biggest disappointment in ’99–that I didn’t get sense of blown-away awe. I thought I’d lost my chance. I thought I would not get to experience that feeling myself. I felt cheated out of falling in love with something I’ve known all my life.

To quote Obi-wan, I was wrong. This is how it must have felt to be alive in ’77 and seeing Star Wars for the very first time. (Minus the hair, because ’70s hair was kind of weird.) 

Yes, Chewie, we are home. Star Wars is once again chicken noodle soup…because even if the movie sucks, I’ll always have that trailer. 

Now please don’t suck. Please continue to be chicken noodle soup. 

Categories: ordinary life | 1 Comment

Leather and glass

So, it’s been a while. 

Part of this is due to a crazy-busy, hectic, frantic work pace. Part is due to school work…and part is due to this.

 

   

I was in the mall one day, waiting for Dad to arrive (the mall being the closest indoor space with free wi-fi to the bus stop) and on impulse, I went in Books-a-million. I was not expecting to walk out with an Eco-friendly, fair trade, leather journal, but I did. 

Since then, I have been journaling. Not every day, but semi-frequently and always relating the emotions of the day. I’ve become so used to sharing my written words, through one form or another…but it is kind of nice to have an outlet just for me. My eyes only, raw as you like.

I have, however, missed this blog, so I’ve decided to pick it up again, and to also resume my fiction works and not just my nonfiction (which, I must say, has really taken off). Boundaries are something that I am coming more and more to appreciate, so I do like the distinction of having two different mediums. Leather-hound journal for private ruminations and glass iPad for public musings and stories. 

Well, that’s it for now, folks, but I’m back!!

Categories: ordinary life | 1 Comment

Expectations

I’ve been thinking a lot about expectations lately. Specifically, about the expectations placed on someone by the people who love them.
What’s brought on this reflection? I’m back in school and people are voicing their opinions. Most are happy for me challenging myself and respect the winding paths of life that brought me here. They respect the years of not attending college as much as they applaud my decision to go.
But some do not respect the fact that my life is mine to make. We all know the kind: they always have something to say and they always have to be right. They are just a little too quick to judge another’s life choices.

People who have gone far in their lives have, in my view, either had the world handed to them or overcome the obstacles by themselves. Both groups have expectations of others that is informed by their life experience.
If you’ve had the world handed to you, it’s hard to spot the obstacles. It wasn’t that hard for you. To you, they were molehills; to others they are mountains.
If you’ve overcome the obstacles by hard work on your own, it’s easy to compare yourself to others. You did it, so can they. But everyone does not have the same mountain to climb.
My parents are masters of the art of being supportive without swerving off into either smothering or enabling. “You want to work as a CNA and be a writer? Be the best CNA and writer you can be. You want to share the house so you can help support your brother and have the financial freedom to do what you want? Share the household expenses.” They have consistently respected my unique brand of adulthood and let me have my independence and make my mistakes. “If you’re gonna be stupid, you’ve gotta be tough” was a constant refrain of my childhood. “Grace covers many mistakes” was another.
Mom and Dad always wanted me to know that I could make my own mistakes and that I could tell them anything. It is still true today.

In some respects, having such awesome parents makes it difficult to know how to handle the know-it-alls and the busybodies of life.

I was listening to music today and “Brave” by Sara Bareilles came on. I love this artist and this song…but I had to wonder: what would I say if I just let the words fall out? Probably something I shouldn’t, followed by something I don’t really mean.
There’s being honest and then there’s being unquiet. There’s being brave and there’s burning bridges.
Most people whose expectations you are under do not mean anything nasty by it. They just want what’s best for you. They just don’t always realize that what’s best for you is not what they think is best for you.

So yes, people have expectations of me. That’s great: it means they see potential. Some know how to encourage and some meddle.
That’s okay: I’m still learning how and when to say “Thank you” and “Thank you but back off”.
“Is this worth the possible fight?” I’ll ask myself. Then try to decide how sensitively implement the “yes” or “no”. It’s hard because my naturally tendency is to swallow, swallow, swallow and SPEW.
Call it an INFP thing or a Hannah thing. But that’s a story for another day.

Hannah

Categories: INFP, ordinary life, Psychology | 4 Comments

Observations from class

I’m back in school. Ivy Tech, to be exact.
No, I don’t regret the time off–I was waffling before, not sure what I was going for or why. Odd as it sounds, I needed the experience of burnout and two years of distance in my career before I realized what I wanted out of college.
I want to understand and I want to be understood. Translation: I’m going for Psychology. This semester I’m only taking one class (financial reasons), Psych 101. My first class was on Tuesday, but I have found that the first day of class is basically just a meet and greet–very little learning goes on the first day. In today’s class, we started Chapter one…an introduction to an introduction to psychology, as my instructor called it.
We covered the history of psychology and the seven approaches.
Psychology, I am discovering, is a diverse field with many different approaches, philosophies and goals. It is almost diverse as the students in this class.
Since pretty much everybody has to take psych 101, my classroom is a pretty good sampling of the student body in general.
We’ve got nursing students, business students, engineering students, criminal justice students. We’ve even got humanities students. There’s also one other woman going for Psychology. And then, of course, there’s the other divide: the people going to school just to make more money and the people going to school to prepare for a vocation.
You can spot them by the questions they ask, the way they phrase things, the things they pay attention to.
I confess, it is a flaw of mine that I have very little respect for those who have made money their chief goal; I think this is from experiences in childhood and adolescence. During the times when my family skated on the poverty line, it was always the friends who struggled to feed themselves that filled our pantry; rarely did the affluent bring more than a couple cans.
I’m certainly not saying all rich people are misers and all poor people are generous…just that I have observed that those who put money and status first have difficulty appreciating the value of those who have less or barely enough.
I guess I prefer my rich folk the same as I do my poor folk: full of generosity and empathy.

Categories: INFP, ordinary life, Writing | 2 Comments

Feeling beautiful

Since I’ve been an adult, I’ve had short hair. It’s usually cut into a bob which naturally curls out. In part, it’s self-preservation: I have extremely thick hair that tends to split if it gets past my shoulders.
Recently, however, I let it grow longer. Well, I say “let” but it was more a case of consistently forgetting get it cut. I had started up working a bunch of overtime and my hair was one of the things that slipped through the cracks.
So it got long. People started to notice. I suddenly got a lot of compliments on my hair and my general appearance. Men started to do the stop and stare more often.
Clearly, I look more beautiful with longer hair…or at least, society seems to view me as more beautiful with longer hair.

Then, I cut my hair again. Back to the bob…see, the thing is, I didn’t like my hair long. Oh, I appreciated the attention I was getting, don’t get me wrong; I like to be seen as beautiful as much as the next girl.
I like to feel beautiful more, though. Long hair, however attractive on me, does not suit my personality. I’m not big on the whole beauty process…I don’t have the patience, talent or inclination to perfect my appearance. I admire and respect the women who do, but that’s just not me.

It’s funny, because I’ve been told by several people that I have the build and looks to be “model pretty” if only I’d devote more time to my appearance. Learn how to wear makeup that covers my cystic acne scars, style my hair, choose a better wardrobe. Flaunt my small, slight figure and play up my delicate features.

But all that requires effort. Effort I don’t want to put in.

It’s not ashamed that I’m thin and have good lucks. I don’t hide my figure under shapeless bags–in fact, I prefer well-fitting clothes. I won’t be intimidated or mocked because I have, through genetics and a healthy lifestyle, a slender figure. I love jewelry (fair trade only) and I love the gleam my hair gets when I wash it. It’s been years now since I’ve put any kind of chemicals on it and it’s never been bleached or dyed: all natural, baby! I know that I’m decently attractive and that’s enough for me. Going to more effort doesn’t make me happy…in fact, it just makes me insecure and miserable. From what I’ve learned, it’s a trait I share with other INFP females.
This is related to another trait of mine: I don’t like the selfie trend. I’ll take one every now and then when the mood strikes, but I feel like the camera often only records the flaws on my skin and doesn’t capture the emotions that moved me to feel beautiful. Whenever I try to get that perfect selfie, whenever I dress up specifically to please others or the camera, I fail. Looking at the picture later, my eyes are drawn to the scars and bags under my eyes; the wild mess that is my hair.
“How can this be beautiful?” I’ll think. My eyes aren’t lit up, my hair doesn’t gleam. I can’t reach the perfection of American beauty; and I don’t look happy in those selfies.

In the end, happy is the best kind of beautiful I have. For me, this means a chin-length bob, little-to-no make up, hippy-ish accessories, small and quiet jewelry and simple clothing.
That’s me, folks. Healthy and happy with my appearance: therefore, beautiful.

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Categories: INFP, ordinary life | Leave a comment

In which I cook…sort of

First, a confession: I love eating out.
I’m not, see, particularly big on the culinary arts myself. It’s not that I can’t cook…oh, no, I was the recipient of a well-rounded education, which included changing oil to cooking to logic.
I employ all three examples just enough to remind myself that I can.

But, since I’m working my butt off for this new car, the debit card has been forced into a sabbatical. (Another confession: I have a bad habit of spending money when I’m stressed. And when I spend more than I should, I get stressed.)
So, less eating out, more bringing my lunches to work. Usually this means whatever Amy’s product is on sale…but I decided to change things up recently. After all, I can cook. Sort of.

Behold my creation!

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Mom calls it an “Alan Alda salad” and I call it a “whatever is on sale salad”. Which means this week I’m eating carrots, radishes, celery and broccoli.
It’s not bad, actually. I splurged on the dressing (Panera Bread’s Poppyseed) and lunch meat for a topping.

More veggies and less processed foods, yay!
I still bought a couple Amy’s for my scheduled doubles…much as my salads don’t suck, I’m not eating them two meals in a row!

So there. I can cook. Sort of.

Categories: ordinary life | 2 Comments

Five Fascinating Facts about C. S. Lewis

Interesting Literature

C. S. Lewis was born on this day in 1898, so we’ve gathered together our five favourite interesting facts about Lewis and his work. Some of the interesting facts about C. S. Lewis that follow touch upon his friendship with J. R. R. Tolkien; these may be known to diehard fans of the ‘Inklings’ (of whom more below), but we hope that some facts will be news to even devoted fans of C. S. Lewis’s work.

1. C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien once went to a party dressed as polar bears. It wasn’t a fancy-dress party. According to Humphrey Carpenter in his biography of Tolkien, Tolkien went to a New Year’s party in the 1930s as a polar bear, wearing a sheepskin with his face painted white. Neil Heims, in a recent book on Tolkien, lists Lewis as his fellow party guest, similarly attired in ursine costume…

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The one that got away

So, it’s not Thursday.
The fact that this post is coming out three days late is a combination of Thursday being Thanksgiving and being the middle of one hell of work week.
Last pay period, I worked 100 hours…and it looks like I’m well on the way towards 100 hours this pay period. I’m about torn between exasperation and appreciation. I don’t like working so much (I don’t like the havoc it wrecks on my mental facilities or my patience); but I do appreciate the extra money it brings me. Extra money is something I sorely need right now.

Buying a newish car should not be this hard and I suppose it wouldn’t be if I didn’t have such rigid and exact standards.
Yesterday I went to the Honda dealership after to work to find out that the car I wanted sold five minutes before I walked in the building. I was, to put it bluntly, crushed. One full month that car has sat on the lot, while I drive by almost every day. One full month I have worked my butt off to add enough to my down payment to keep the monthly payments at or below $200. And five minutes before I walk in the door, it finally sells?
Then, of course, the salesman tries to talk me into a lease for a brand spanking new car. “Tried to talk me into” is a generous description. Apparently, all young women should want a fancy new car and a lease is better than a loan, and I shouldn’t let my mother dictate the quality of my ride. (The last time I was in there, I had brought Mom with me as muscle. Judging from the smooth streak of manipulative sales talk I got without her, it worked rather well!)
I finally told him in blunt, possibly rude terms that I didn’t want a fancy new car on a lease; I wanted the black 2012 Civic they’d just sold. The car I’ve been watching and working for. And then I walked out. In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing that car sold before I walked in, because I’m sure the vultures would have descended had they seen how much I really wanted that car.

So now I’m back to saving. Two more weeks, maybe a month more. Honestly, I’d rather freeze in my car without heat then go look at other vehicles right now. I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d come to think of that car as mine.
And, the more I save, the more cash I’ll have as a downpayment. The bigger the downpayment, the lower the monthly payments will have to be. At least, that’s the rationale I’ve come up with to justify this very childish sulking fit I seem to have fallen into since Honda sold my car right out from underneath me. Of the two of us, the ’91 Pontiac is behaving more maturely, I think. She hasn’t broken down out of spite or jealously just yet. Maybe she’s saving it for when I actually replace her, or maybe she’s just trying to get back into my good graces.

Ah, well. The car of my dreams is now not only a Honda Civic and not a Toyota Yaris, it’s now a black Civic.
Just not the one that got away.
Damn it. I really wanted that car!

Categories: ordinary life | 5 Comments

Back by Popular Demand

Well, back by the demand of my brother, and he’s a popular person, so….
It’s been quite a while since I last blogged. 65 days, according to my wordpress account. A lot has changed; a lot hasn’t.
There hasn’t been a whole lot of progress on my novel but this doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. I’ve been doing my once a week post for CNA Edge and that has been going very well. Very well indeed!
I’m enjoying it and others seem to be enjoying it too. Michael says that he loves my regular and reliable posts on this site, but he would occasionally like to read something I write that isn’t about being a CNA.
He’s a firm believer in pushing people to be better, that one. He’s also very fond of reliable patterns. Since the weekly deadline seems to be working well for one blog, I thought I’d try it out here.
So, Sundays I write for CNA Edge.
Thursdays I’ll write for this blog.
And I’ll be cracking down on novel writing too.

Even though I’ve been silent on this front for a while, offline life has been chugging along. My new car plans have been accelerated, thanks to a series of current car misfortunes.

a) My driver’s side door won’t close all the way, thanks to a broken handle on the inside. Can’t fix that without replacing the whole door, my mechanic says.
b) My passenger side front door won’t open, thanks to a collision with a deer. More accurately, from having an enormous buck running full tilt into it. THAT was scary! I was driving along a back country road, having just picked up Michael from work. I had just turned my head to glance at Michael as he was talking and all of a sudden, without warning, a deer charges from the thick woods. All I saw was his profile and large deer inches from his face. Thank God those inches were good, sturdy metal of an old car. Also, thank God that the deer hit over the front tire and flipped over the top and didn’t impact on the window.
Still, I was quite shaken!
c) My heater core went out. This has perhaps been the most trying of all my car tribulations: the driver’s side door is annoying and the passenger’s side door is inconvenient but the lack of heat is miserable. And of course my heater core goes out in the most unseasonable cold November in a long, long time! Dad and I have become experts of bundling up with hats, scarves, gloves, jackets and coats. I’ve even mastered the art of wrapping a sleeping bag around my legs in such a fashion that I still have sufficient range of motion to drive.

I found a car that I want, a 2012 Honda Civc…unfortunately, it was just a bit out of my price range. So, I made the choice to walk away and save up more money. That was 3 weeks ago, and throughout those 3 weeks, that particular car has not sold. I see it every day on my way to pick up Dad. If it’s still there in another week, hopefully the dealership and I can come to an agreement and I will be the owner of a car with excellent gas mileage and, perhaps more importantly, HEAT!!!
If not, I’ll start the search for another 2012-2013 Honda Civic.

One more week. One more week of alternately freezing my butt off and running it off at work. I’ve been working an extra 8-10 hours a week for the last 3 weeks, trying to save up enough for a large down payment. My goal is to keep the monthly payments under $200 and I assure, these past 3 weeks have been quite the test of my resolve!

One other thing has changed since I last blogged: I’m signed up to resume my higher education in January. I’ll be going part time to Ivy Tech for psychology. It was time to go back; I’ve been in need of more intellectual and social stimulation lately. And, I’ve developed quite the interest in psychology. It will be a useful tool in the kind of writing I do and the kind of work I do. I know I won’t get rich doing it, so I guess it’s a good thing money isn’t my main motivator!

Whew! That’s it for now! Next post will be a recounting of my adventures used car shopping.

Hannah

Categories: ordinary life | 3 Comments

Lights in the sky

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Lately I’ve been taking evening walks. I love walking, and I love taking pictures of how I see the world. While there are certainly downsides to living this far in the country, the view certainly isn’t one of them!
I do wish I could take better night time photos, though! I’m sure there’s an app for that, but I like the simplicity of my iPhone camera.
Any rate, enjoy!

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Wants and needs

So…it’s been a while since I last blogged. I know.
It’s been interesting around here.

So my plans to build a vardo? Yeah, they’ve been put on hold.
It’s quite simple, really: I need the money I’ve saved for something else.
I need a new car.
No, no, for the last time it’s not my car that broke! It’s my dad’s car; so with finances tight all around I made the decision to give Mom and Dad my old car and get myself the new one I’ve been promising myself I’d get for…5 years now. Just a bit longer now.
In the meantime, we’ve made the whole 4 working adults, 2 working vehicles thing work. Mom and Michael take the truck and Dad and I take my car. I drop Dad off at a bus stop and then pick him after we’ve both finished work.
There is, of course, a lot that could go wrong with our plan. What if a car breaks down? What if I get mandated at work?
But so far, everything is working out okay. I’ve been able to make use of my new Netflix mobile account while I wait for Dad each day. I kinda really like that! If things keep on going smoothly (please, please, dear God please), I should be able to get a new car within the month.

My own place can wait. It’s not the worst thing in the world to be patient just a little bit longer; basically next summer/early fall instead of next spring for the vardo.
Well, actually that’s another change. I’ve sort of decided against a vardo on the grounds that the free building expertise I have at my disposal is limited and probably not up to a curved roof. A sloped roof I know I can do and for much cheaper than curved rafters. So, I’m now looking at something more resembling a tradition shed-like structure. Still mounted on a trailer: that’s one part of the dream I’m unwilling to give up.
I’ve been doing my research again and this time I’ve arrived at www.relaxshacks.com instead of a Don Vardo. The style is still very much me…but “me” on a level that I am comfortable building on my own. There’s the dream and dream you can achieve. I never thought I’d learn to be a realist!

Wants vs needs, right? I want a detached structure of my own. I need a new car. My plan was vardo then car, now it’s car then shack. Ah, life.
I’m learning that flexibility is great skill indeed. Life is never going to go exactly to our plans; so we might as well learn to roll with the punches with as much grace as we can muster.

Categories: Micro cottage, ordinary life | 2 Comments

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