A few days ago when skimming an old
Pillow Book post, Jamie read a couple of excerpts aloud, prompting a discussion of my mindset at the time. I replied with an unhelpful, but honest, "I have no idea." You see, while many of the random quirks and some of the philosophical ideas on which I based posts still describe - or resonate with - me, that person seems like a stranger in many ways. On paper, I am different (most obviously, now being blessed with the titles of "wife" and "mother"); and more importantly, my perspective of needs and wants (and therefore, my understanding of self) has changed. Perhaps most notably, the uncertainty that underscored, or was at least reflected in, much of the old blog is gone. To be as cliche as possible, I am now, without a doubt, living my best life. My hope is that this blog will showcase that contentment and represent the person I have grown to be... while still incorporating the odds and ends projects, quotes and book selections, support-of-the-local, and universal questions/ideas that I previously explored.
So, in essence, this will simply be a glimpse of my life on Turner Farm Road, the place where I grew up and the place I am fortunate enough to now share with my wonderful husband and beloved daughter. Although I am a little worried that I don't have much to say anymore (because, as a lifelong friend and I recently "discussed" in email, it seems we seek conversation and validation more when we feel unsettled), I know a writing outlet - and the community it can create - makes me more inquisitive and reflective. These are valuable qualities to enhance when in the midst of something that requires constant attention to the "immediate." You parents out there understand this; sometimes it seems we are just "getting by" and taking care of the have-to(s). In connection, I hope this outlet will also be a place where those of you who don't want to start your own blog or book, but have something to say, can do just that.
*Additional caveat: I am equally concerned that I can't speak in complete sentences or use proper grammar anymore.
***
Leslie started 'Socks for the Soul'; I'm just here hoping someone breaks into our storage unit: Camper Life on Turner Farm Road
About a year ago, I
took Marie Kondo's advice and started
meticulously folding my and my husband's underwear and socks. I embraced the
"if you haven't worn it in six months, get rid of it" idea and took
loads and loads to Goodwill. I sold or gave away a bunch of furniture pieces
that I had stockpiled because of "project potential." And, I
genuinely felt good after the purge. The small-statured, but very smiley, Japanese writer/inevitable marriage
counselor/Netflix star was right; organize your random stuff and your
life in general will seem more organized.
While the
undergarment folding strategy has long been abandoned, I continue to try to
minimize, both by choice and necessity, the tangibles in my life. As some of
you know, my family and I are living in a 31' fifth wheel camper on our farm.
When our house sold, somewhat unexpectedly, before our barn remodel project is
complete, we decided the most practical and cost-effective strategy in the
interim would be to park a camper by our barn, store our stuff, and live simply
with a few basic items. While we were confident in our decision, we nevertheless jumped into this adventure aware of potential issues: the RV would
likely get super small, super quickly (i.e. we would "discuss in a manner
reflective of frustration" about dumb stuff); babies need lots of
things so we would basically be wearing two outfits and have zero floor space
to do activities we enjoy like play guitar, yoga, or walk in straight lines; tasks like cooking and laundry would be a hassle; and "name any other
household chore or common practice" would have to be thought-out more
carefully than rationality/normality would suggest. What we did not realize
during that last week of August when we were in the god awful process of
moving: how much we would LOVE our camper life.
Here are a few
reasons why it works for us...
 |
| Dog house and cat-io |
1. I have the best
husband and child in the world. Jamie is laid-back, doesn't need personal
space, and knows how important it is to me that we live in an organized and
overly clean environment. As such, he not only helps me clean, but also does
little things like leave his boots outside, vacuum lady bugs, and empty the
water on chilly nights. Oh, and did I mention that he has already built the
cats and dog an amazing building of their own and is working on our family home
on his days off work? He is absolutely wonderful. And our child? Just as awesome. She
doesn't get too worked up about stuff, does not seem to mind the small space,
and loves just being outside exploring the farm. I would never
want to do this life with anyone but these two.
2. Jamie and Autumn
make me the best person I can be. I am less selfish than I used to be. I no
longer crave alone time.
3. None of us are
high-maintenance when it comes to clothes/getting ready. Jamie and I probably
have (5) changes of clothes each and Autumn, a few more. There is barely room
to turn around in our shower. I'm not certain where my hair dryer is hiding.
None of us have a problem with this.
*Were I working
full-time, I realize this might not be possible.
4. I can walk to my
mom's. I regularly use her kitchen and laundry room. Autumn takes baths there.
Our camper life would be much more frustrating if I couldn't put a bag of
clothes in the stroller and walk to a washer/dryer. We are very grateful for
Mom and Doug.
5. Back to the Kondo/tidying-up argument: I
don't think I ever realized the degree to which stuff induced anxiety. I do
recognize now, however, that I feel more relaxed in this camper than I have
probably ever felt in my life. And this is not only because I am on the farm that
I know so well and love so much. We strictly have what we need here. I don't
feel pressure to clean 7 or 8 rooms daily. I don't walk by things and think,
"I really should be using XYZ"
or "I hate that XYZ is
going to waste." When we moved, we were very mindful about the space we
had and thus, selective with what we brought. As a result, we are surrounded
only by things that really matter to us. We have each other, basic necessities,
and a handful of things that "spark joy." For instance, the cow
cookie jar Dad got me one Christmas is in one corner of our very limited
counter space. Autumn's monthly photo books and prints find home in a
decorative box sitting on the couch end table.
The rest of our
possessions are doled out between a storage unit, the barn, and Mom's
house/garage. The past two months have shown us that we probably don't actually
need 75% of it. There has honestly been only one time that we have said,
"You know, I need to go get _____ out of storage." (Said yesterday in
regard to a winter coat). Realizing this makes me want to just open the storage
unit door and hope it all gets stolen. Even though it will be nice to get
into our awesome barn home and have luxuries like water pressure and a toilet
we can put tissue in, I know I am going to miss these days of camper
life. That's one reason I wanted to start this blog with this particular
snapshot of our life. It's weird to go back and read one's own writing, but I
think years down the road, when I have inevitably collected 12
vases that look exactly the same, a host of cleaning supplies I never actually
use, have a play room of toys that never get touched, and an assortment of note
pads, ink pens, and do-dads in some random junk drawer, I will appreciate this
reflection.
*In regard to
the title, my friend Leslie Conner and her husband, Eric, also lived in a
camper while remodeling their home. Because they got so cold that winter,
Leslie was inspired to start a sock drive for the homeless. It has grown every
year and she and Eric continue to do amazing things. Please consider donating
this year!
When you can't
load your child in a stroller and walk around your farm:
Book
recommendation: A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman
Amazon Prime
recommendation: Jack Ryan (series); This Beautiful Fantastic (movie)
"Art is the
elimination of the unnecessary." - Pablo Picasso
