A Christmas debate and another project

Having lived in NW Oregon most of my life, I was firmly in the Must-Have-A-Real-Christmas-Tree camp.  When one is literally surrounded by tree farms full of reasonably priced, fresh, green trees, how could one not be?  (Just my own biased and tainted opinion.  This is an all-inclusive, multi-diversity blog.  In other words, don't hate me.)

Now, it must be said about my childhood in the 1950s and 60s, naturally gangly and misshapen evergreens, with open branches that we drowned in silver tinsel, was the norm.  They were truly something to behold, and we loved them.

Don't laugh.

Nowadays, trees are trimmed into awful gumdrop-shaped bushes in which you have to search to find the trunk.   But no doubt, each generation believes theirs is/was The Best, so I will concede that, maybe, the trees of MY childhood don't appeal to all.  (And they would be wrong.)

Then in my adult years, I determined that pre-cut trees sold in the local hardware store parking lot, aren't always as fresh as they appear.  And when you have a wood stove in the vicinity of where you plan to put your tree, starting out with FRESH is quite important.  So for many years, we trudged out into the wet December weather, to one of the many local farms and cut our own because, darn it, we were die-hard Oregonians and that is simply how it's done.  

Then we moved to the desert.  

Cut trees are trucked in (from somewhere) to be sold and hence, in my mind, they've probably already started dropping their needles ..... not unlike Charlie Brown’s sad little twig-tree.  Plus we again have a wood stove to suck any remaining moisture out of whatever we haul home.  

So 'twas time to buy our first fake tree .... which I found online.  

(Side Note:  I now realize that many people here are the real deal because they venture out into actual woods, in actual snow, in actual mountains, and cut down a wild tree.  No pre-cut lots or farms for them.  THAT is how it all began before even MY childhood, and deserves the full admiration and respect of all Christmas tree purists.)

It arrived wedged inside a large box that it would never again fit into .... and I tolerated it.

Not that the tree wasn't pretty.  It definitely was.  But I soon realized that fake trees have one BIG drawback, which is ..... eleven months of the year it must be stored ..... somewhere.  

When we were planning to build our house, a friend advised that we should include in our design, a large closet into which we could roll a Christmas tree, fully upright and decorated, where it could remain untouched until we wheeled it out again the next December.  This friend, I've decided, was very wise.   But since I failed to heed this advice, I instead bought a bright red tree bag that was big enough to hold a couple of adults and their pet German Shepherd.  It hung on large hooks up in our garage and looked like a garish, yet festive, cadaver bag clinging to the wall.  

I ended up selling that tree to a friend who has more storage space than I do, and proceeded to Plan B.

Probably over a decade ago when Pinterest entered my life, I saved an enchanting picture of a homemade Christmas "tree".  It was a lovely way to display a Christmas village.  I vacillated over making one for years.

I already had nine little village buildings, purchased many years previous.  A start.  Then my daughter caught hold of the idea and found several more pieces that matched my set which, as far as I know, are not made anymore, sending us to resale shops, garage sales, and eBay.

"Mom!", she'd phone.  "I found five.  How many do you want?"  

Then I scored at a garage sale and ended up with a total of 23.   There was no turning back now.  

So with Husband's clever mind for engineering and function, we came up with our design .... 

 

Beginning with the base, he made a sturdy wooden box 24"x24" square, and 4" high, with a 4.5" hole in the center to fit the "trunk".

Upside down.

Note the small circle piece below the hole, and the tiny hole in its center.

Using plastic ABS pipe, he cut six pieces.  The bottom piece of pipe has a diameter of 4.5", and is 18" long.  The next four pieces are each 12.5" long.  From the bottom up, the pipe diameters are 4.5", 4.5", 3.5", and 2.5", so that the "trunk" will grow progressively narrower from the bottom to the top.  The top piece of pipe is 1" diameter and 8" long.

Now for the "branches".   From a sheet of 1/2" chipboard plywood, we cut five circles with diameters of 36", 30", 24", 18", and 12".   He cut a 2" hole* in the center of each.

*The holes in the center of each wooden circle were originally cut too small, hindering all the cords and plugs needing to pass through.  So they were expanded to 2".

He cut small (1/2” thick) circles that glued onto the centers of both sides of the large circles, with the holes lined up.  Each small circle was cut to fit snuggly into the "trunk" pipe, as shown above.  This "trunk" is the conduit for all the electrical cords.  At the base of each pipe section (except the bottom one), he cut a hole about 1"x2", for the electrical cords to enter and exit.   I positioned these holes in the back side of the tree so they don't show.

Husband used a threaded 1/4" steel rod .....

.... and connected several lengths together with these.

The rod goes from that tiny hole in the base, up through the "trunk", to the top circle of the tree where it is all tightened down with a nut at each end.

After sanding all the wood, I painted everything white.

Assembling the whole thing was much easier in theory, than in actuality.  It would be an understatement to say it was challenging to run the cords through the holes and pipe while at the same time fitting together the "trunk" pieces and wooden circles, from the bottom upward.  Especially when Husband was at a meeting and I was flying solo at this point.  There were a few cuss words and the ceiling fan turned to full speed to keep from sweating to death in the process.  Then I decided it was too tall and had to be taken apart so I could cut an inch out of each "trunk" section and the building process began anew with more sweating and cussing.   

Walmart was a big help by only being 20 minutes away and by stocking short lengths of twinkle lights and inexpensive power strips, of which I used four.   

After the main assembly was complete, I cut a bunch of pieces of 2" styrofoam (upon which the village buildings would sit) and draped them all with quilt batting to create hills of "snow".  The styrofoam and batting helped to hide the myriad of cords underneath.

That threaded rod emerged from the top circle, tall enough to stick on that last piece of 1" diameter pipe which holds the star.  

Finally, around the outer edge of each circle, I screwed in 40 small metal hooks, about 9-10" apart.  These hold the garland and twinkle lights. 

 (By the way, the garland was purchased probably 30 years ago at Costco and it was the exact amount needed.  ‘Tis the season of miracles.)

And this was the result .....

(Not quite as grand as the one from Pinterest, but pretty enough.)  It measures approximately 7.5' tall from the floor to the top of the star.

I'm not happy with the trunk because it looks exactly like what it is .... painted plastic pipe.  So next year I plan to cover it, or paint it differently ..... or something.  We'll see.  But for now, it ain't coming apart till January.  

Now for the best part:  It will all disassemble and store compactly in the garage.  

And no more gigantic body bags.

* Merry Christmas *

Latest project and the how-to

When we built our house, we kept things to a minimum.  Now and then I regret this decision because with the latest influx of grandkids (12.5 at last count), we no longer all fit here.  Alas.  Not that our house is small, it's just not big.  Thus organization is a must, which segues nicely to a recent project--

My Sewing Cabinet

I do not have a dedicated sewing room.  Instead, my sewing machine has occupied a spot on a small desk in one of our guest bedrooms. Visually, this isn't optimum when an overnight guest is on the premises.  So I came up with an idea.  (Unfortunately I didn't think of blogging about this until it was finished, so I can't show all the steps.  But it's pretty simple.)

Step #1:  Find a used TV armoire.  I found this on Facebook Marketplace for $40.

                                                   

Step #2:  Remove all hardware and try not to lose any of it.  Then remove the doors and don't lose them either.

Step #3:  Thoroughly "buff" the entire surface with something like this gritty, scrubby material (not to be confused with those green scrub pads that you clean your pots and pans with) ....

.... to remove the glossy finish, because if you're foolish like me, you are wanting to paint it.  

Step #4:  (Here's where things went south for a while, so avoid following my example on this step.)  Let me just say .... choose your paint carefully.  Do not cut corners here.  Don't believe the internet when it tells you to use an oil-base enamel paint.  Don't use leftover paint that's been languishing for a few years on a shelf in your garage.  If you happen to have a paint sprayer, don't use it on a hot day.  Get yourself a small can of some good semi-gloss, water-base cabinet/trim paint.

Trust me on this so that, hopefully, you will not have to re-sand and repaint FOUR times.  I am not kidding.  Then, after you have all this figured out .... paint the darn thing.

Step #5:  Somehow insert entire armoire into your house without gouging any walls or door frames.

Step #6:  Reattach all hardware and doors because you did not lose them, right?!?  

Here's where it starts to get fun .....

Step #7:  I made a panel to cover the interior back wall, out of a cut-to-fit sheet of 1/4" hardboard, covered with 1/4" foam, and fabric, using spray glue and a hot glue gun.  You can find the foam at JoAnn's and it has the word "naked" in the title.  (I know not why .... )  Fabric stores are limited where I live and for whatever reason, I wanted an old-fashioned, grandma-ish print, which JoAnn's failed to produce.  But good ol' Walmart came through.  This panel was attached with screws.

Step #8:  Build a shelf* to attach to the top of the cabinet interior for added storage.  The doors of this particular armoire, when open, can slide inward into the body of the cabinet to be out of the way.  So I left space between the sides of said shelf* and the interior sides of the cabinet to allow for the opened doors.  Repeat, the shelf* basically hangs from the top of the cabinet interior.  (If you are thoroughly confused by now, you will just have to come visit us and see it for yourself.)  Above all, during the construction of this interior shelf*, do NOT injure yourself with any power tools especially if your spouse/partner has gone fishing and is not home.  Paint and install.

Step #9:  Install light fixture and power strip.  

Step #10:  Enlist husband (or anyone handy) to design/build a shelf, upon which your sewing machine will sit.  Sand and stain (or paint).  Then reenlist same husband/handy-person to mount it on heavy-duty drawer slides.  (Warning, these slides are more expensive than you'd think.)  This shelf, when installed, should sit about 30" from the floor, which is the standard height of a desk or table.

Step #11:  Accessorize.  On the inside of one of the doors, I installed spool racks which were also unexpectedly pricey considering I gave some away during our last move.  On the inside of the other door, I attached a small wall-mount spice rack I had found at Home Goods several years previous (as I recall), for holding "bits and bobs".  

Then trot on over to Dollar Tree for some inexpensive baskets.

Step #12:  Step back and admire.

One of my worries was that this very tall black cabinet might overwhelm the room or frighten various wee grandkids trying to sleep nearby.  But after moving it in, the room is fine .... and I think all visiting wee grandkids will be as well.

Ta-Da!

I didn't turn the light on inside because in the photo it caused a glare.

Oh yes .... I found these large cat litter bins that fit perfectly on the lower shelves, to hold fabric scraps.

And in another corner, a rocking chair that was successfully painted on the first try!

I'll go ahead and show the rest of the room, because it's cute.  By the way, that table was a $3 find at Goodwill.  It actually came that color!  Everything else in this room (except bed, bedding and curtains and that curly thing above the bed that I found at Hobby Lobby) came from garage sales.

Survived the holidays yet again ... and other residual ramblings

As a young mom, I was really good at doing Christmas.  I budgeted all year for the extra spending.  I usually started my gift planning around September, involving a secret, highly-guarded, constantly-updated list of gifts for our kids.  It was my job to keep it all balanced so that, when opening presents, no one ran out ahead of the others.  Sometimes Husband would spring a last minute gift-idea for one of the kids and I would scramble to provide something comparable for the others so it all remained *even*.  Plus there had to be a balance between the inevitable new sweater or socks .... and the fun stuff.  No one teaches these skills when you first decide to become a parent and many dads wouldn't have paid attention anyway.  

I shopped, decorated the house and tree, played the music, baked the cookies, planned the food, mailed the cards and letters, and wrapped mountains of packages.  Christmas was like a giant pageant with me as the director, producer, caterer, and set/costume designer.  And I loved it all because those wonderful and priceless childhood memories will always be our gift to our kids.  

But that phase of life ends.  

And here we are, alone in the desert.  

This year the realization hit that if we don't want to spend Christmas alone .... then we can no longer spend Christmas at home.  This is because all of our kids now have kids, and we engrained in them years ago, that a kid's Christmas is best at home.  So that's where they need to be, with their own tree and their own stuff and their own memory-making traditions.  We were the ones who chose to move away.  So we are the ones who now must do the traveling.  

Side Note:  One of the many motivations for building our van was to better enable foisting ourselves upon our adult-children by making our visits easier on everyone.  We can park in any of their driveways and sleep in our own bed.  (In #Vanlife, this is called "mooch-docking".)  It's a win-win for everyone .... assuming you like your relatives.  

That said ...... whoever decided to plunk Christmas right down into the dead of winter (instead of .... say .... balmy May or maybe June) wasn't thinking it through, because in our case, in every direction from our home, are mountain passes.  And that's where it tends to snow .... a lot ....  

Husband poo-poos my concerns.  Unlike me, he loves driving in snow.  Even better if everyone else would stay out of his way.  I must admit, so far we've had no issues driving through said passes.  A few concerns a time or two, but nothing scary.  He bought new beefy tires for our non-4WD van and on the chance we ever DID get stuck, we'd have plenty of heat, water, food, and all the comforts.  I think Husband would actually enjoy getting stuck for a while, just to show the world that we've GOT this.  We carry chains and a shovel (to appease me) but have rarely come close to needing either.  However, both this year and last, we had to cut our holiday visit a little short to get home ahead of incoming weather.  It is our new normal.  

But new normals aren't necessarily bad.  They're just different.  Christmas is easier than it used to be .... even when it snows.  And our kids are very welcoming and our grandkids are award-winningly delightful.  

Plus I don't need to make a list anymore.  Another win .... sort of.    

Surrounded by the Stupids

Don't get me wrong.  There are great people where we live.  We have some of the best neighbors we've ever had .... and I mean The Best.  If we aren't here to haul our empty trashcan back up our driveway after the garbage collector has come by, there is no stopping Best Neighbors from doing it for us.  Last week we were planning to be out of town so I asked if they'd just move it up by our trailer, only a few steps from the road ..... but no .... they took it all the way up to our house.  And there's no talking them out of it.  If we need help with anything, they're here in a flash.  And we try to reciprocate.  

Other neighbors come by unannounced to help clear our driveway after a deep snowfall.  Another neighbor stopped by after it had snowed to check on us because they hadn't seen our car tracks in a couple of days.  Wonderful, caring people.

But unfortunately there are also the Stupids, meaning random brain-dead idiots who either live here or drive in to spread their *joy*.  Public land, where there aren't enough eyes per square mile to keep watch over things, seems to attract them and they take full advantage.  

The Stupids dump or leave their trash, without a thought as to who will have to clean it up.  And I'm not just talking about average litter, but major dumping ..... furniture, cars, used paraphernalia, and the remains of lustful, drunken nights.  Either they're narcissistic, or lazy, or simply scum ..... or all three.  

I have one neighbor whose trash enjoys entangling itself across my property whenever it's windy and the prevailing wind seems to always come from their direction.  I have to go out every few weeks and gather it up, except for the plastic shopping bags stuck in the trees that I cannot reach.  No, I haven't spoken to them yet and yes, I need to.  They also let their dogs roam freely which usually isn't a problem, but it freaks out our dog.  They're somewhat new and needless to say, I dearly miss the sweet neighbor who used to live there who managed to keep her trash and dogs contained.

The Stupids also drive crazily.  Now maybe it's my imagination that it's particularly bad out here, but I am literally more fearful to drive on local highways here than where I used to live where there were more cars!  The accidents here where the roads are less crowded are frequent and inexplicable.  Pulling out in front of a truck in broad daylight in light traffic ..... how do you explain that?  And many of the accidents are fatal. 

I just read on Facebook that the Stupids were out target shooting on local public land and a woman, who was out walking her dog, noticed bullets flying past her and she had to hit the ground and shout that she was there!!  This will probably lead to all shooting on public land being prohibited which means the responsible gun owners will go elsewhere, leaving only the Stupids who don't care about rules or anything else.  Hence, they will win ... again.  

There are rants aplenty in local Facebook groups, but I doubt the Stupids read it, so it's all preaching to the choir.  Sad to say, my opinion of people has declined in the last few years.  I never saw this amount of trash when we lived in the burbs.  I never had to walk along my road to pick up garbage, including multiple whiskey bottles tossed out of cars.  I don't remember seeing so many paint marks on the roads, marking the pattern of the latest crash.  In town, there are too many eyes ready to report anything amiss, so it's not as easy to flaunt stupidity.  

I like living in the country.  I like the privacy and space.  I like the clean air.  I'm grateful I'm not in the city, and the hideous mess that many of them have become.  (Particularly Portland, Oregon, my childhood home.  We recently drove through there on the freeway, and it's a jaw-dropping heartbreak to see what that once beautiful city has become.   That, in my opinion, is the result of the Government Stupids in league with the Street Stupids, while ignoring the good people footing the bill.)  The Stupids ruin it for everyone.  

So I try, between trash cleanups, to not get too angry and focus on the good people.  Like most of our neighbors ..... the people who help keep public land and roads clean and safe.  The people who basically care about others.  ..... the people who aren't stupid.  

 

The other side o' the fence

I figured you all needed a breather after my last few rapid-fire posts from our trip ..... hence the quiet spell.

So what's new?

I don't know if I have formally announced here in The Blog that we will be building our next home in, and moving to, central Oregon.  In the desert.  Where the deer and the rattlesnakes play.  It's a bit of a change for this Pacific NW webfoot.

Last fall we purchased five acres in an area called the Crooked River Ranch, a few miles north of Redmond.  Other than my two college years in Idaho, this will be my first experience of living more than 20 miles from where I grew up.  T'is time.

The Husband is giddy with the expected sunshine, close proximity of multiple fishing holes, and the relatively inexpensive membership to a nearby golf club.  I am simply happy about the change.  And the privacy that acreage affords.  And our view ....

(Meet our new neighbors, the Three Sisters mountains.  We call them, "The Girls".)

..... and our firm plan of natural and very minimal landscaping -- meaning -- never maintaining a lawn again.  Ever.

We will be three hours from our previous home and our business, which is now mostly run by Capable 2nd Son .... and three hours from many wonderful longtime friends.  We plan to return monthly to assist Capable Son in the functioning of said business, and to see our other kids, and of course, the Grands.  Plus to fulfill responsibilities in this lovely building....

If you fall into the categories of #1-Family or, #2-Wonderful Friends ..... just know that we will have guest rooms.  And we will expect visits.

One of our motivations for this move is to make a place for the Grands to create memories.  We have plans for hikes, camping, building forts, exploring the canyons.  And Husband is SURE that they will want to learn fly fishing ..... We hope to play pickle ball and swim the local ranch pool.  And we plan to finally set up our kiln and pottery wheel properly.

No, we have not broken ground yet which means it is all still in the surreal stage.  We have our house plans and are still deciding how much dirt must be moved from one place to another to create a level pad for the house.  It all takes time .... blah, blah, blah.

So what about the Beast?  When we move into the new house, it will go up for sale and hopefully there will be some money left over to buy a small trailer for future travel.  If not, we'll dig out the tent and camping gear.

Anyway, we have no plans for more big trips in the Beast.  Just back and forth over the coming months, from the business to the new house as it emerges from the sand and sagebrush.

By the way, we are thinking of naming it, so I will be accepting submissions for ideas.  (Favorite Daughter -- that's your cue. )

They say the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.  Well, we've spent enough time in the desert side of this "fence" to know it definitely isn't greener.  Which is fine by me 'cause I will not have to mow it.

It's haaaawwwt!

If I could live in weather that maxed out around 68 degrees(f) each day, I would be in my own personal heaven.  There's nothing like a chilly briskness on an early morning walk or a cool breeze wafting through an open window.  (Don't you love the word wafting?  So soothing.)

The whole point, or so I thought, when we embarked upon this full-time RVing thing, is to follow the weather.  Go north in the summer and south in the winter.  It seemed so simple as we blithely moved out of our fully air-conditioned house and into this rolling metal box.  Well, we are quite north at the moment .... within a couple of hours of the Canadian border in upper Washington state., and it has been 95 degrees for several days.  When camping unhooked (see previous post) .... we CAN turn on the generator to enable the noisy AC to drown out the sound of the river nearby.  But then all our tent-dwelling neighbors would get to listen to it too and I doubt they would share in the joy of our comfort.

"Oh yeah", said the waitress last night when I inquired if this weather is normal in these parts.  "Nineties, hundred.  Sometimes we reach 115."  ........ The misting sprayers mounted outside the restaurant, meant to cool passersby (and to frizz my hair), should have been a clue.  I hadn't seen misters since we were in Moab, Utah, a town that sits squarely in the desert.  At least in Moab, one expects it to be hot. 

Hot weather brings out my inner grumpy demons.  And for good reason.  Who likes being sweaty and sticky?  Who likes watching their skin wrinkle and age as it's cooked in the sun?  We all know what excessive sun does to pretty much everything -- tires, paint, curtains, unwatered potted plants ..... relentless fading and parching.  My young granddaughter, who obviously carries my DNA, used to insist on wearing a coat outside in the summer, thinking it would interrupt the sun's rays that were bearing down on her.  At least she understands that something unpleasant is happening and it definitely needs fixing.  I remember learning in a long-ago chemistry class, that heat speeds up molecules .... or some type of tiny particles, as they bounce against each other.  That didn't make sense to me, because heat leaves me flopped on the couch or lying next to a fan.  Or schlepping through Safeway soaking in their AC.  The only speed involved is how quickly I can peel off all unnecessary layers of clothing .... (at home, not in the store).

My inner demons also resent people who like hot weather.  Somehow, and I can't explain it, sun-worshippers are an affront to those of us who are feeling panicked over a three digit forecast.  That somehow, again no explanation, they are responsible and owe us an apology.  So if you are one of them, don't be surprised by the squinty, annoyed glare you may receive from those of us who are cowering under SPF 500.  The next time you feel like prattling on about how much you luuuuuuvvvvv the dog days of summer, when eggs can fry on pavement, save it for the crowd working on their tans outside on the sun deck.  Because it's too darn hot, our demons have taken over, and we Eskimos don't want to hear it.

My favorite things

Deviating from the trending themes of motorhomes and life-threatening illnesses .....

Remember when Oprah did her annual My Favorite Things show and if you were insanely lucky to have been in the audience that day, you went home with a truckload of goodies?   (I think it required amazing luck, or knowing the right person, to get a ticket to any of her shows.  On my one trip to Chicago years ago, I tried.  She wasn't answering her phone..... in fact, I couldn't even get it to ring.)

Anyway, no prizes today.  Just a list of some of MY favorite things  .... (and/or products):

1.  My Chi flat iron.  Six or seven years ago when I first heard about this little miracle worker, I beelined to the nearest retailer and forked over nearly $100.  Worth every penny and cheaper than therapy.  As a child of the 60s and early 70s, I am still recovering emotionally from not having hair like Marcia in "The Brady Bunch".   I was, from birth, "blessed" with thick, curly, frizzy hair.   My teen years were spent in 3" diameter curlers.  For most of my adult life, I kept it as short as possible and even then, it was an effort to rein in the fro.   The Chi enabled me to grow my hair longer for the first time in over three decades.  I'm still not Marcia, but it was life-changing nonetheless.

2.  Instant tanning cream.  I like Banana Boat (deep dark), simply because it's one of the cheaper brands.  I'm sure the more expensive, high-brow, purchased-at-Nordstrom ones work too, if you're so inclined.  From spring to fall, this stuff keeps the pasty-white-leg-look at bay.

3.  Moonlight Path from Bath & Body Works.  Room freshener, body spray, lotion ... anything with that scent.  I discovered it at the gym, of all places.  Someone walked into the room and I immediately had to hunt them down and find out what that heavenly smell was.  I've even offered a few stern warnings to some B&BW employees, should the company ever consider discontinuing it.

4.  Bread machines.  Any model.  I've lost count how many I have worn out over the years.  When our kids were growing up, I baked nearly a loaf a day.  My current machine came from Goodwill for under $10.  Works perfectly.  Simply toss in the ingredients, push a button, and three hours later you have a hot loaf of bread.   Or you can start a loaf at night, set the timer, and wake up the next morning to steamy, crusty goodness.  No kneading.  No guessing about how much flour to add.  No greasing and washing pans.   I like to make up six or seven kits at a time, kept in ziplock bags, with the dry ingredients all measured and ready.  Then I just add the water, oil, and yeast when I start a loaf.  I use the same recipe that came from, I think, an Oster brand recipe book, from one of my earlier machines.  Let me know if you want it.  Tip:  Most machines need to be manually stopped ten minutes early so as to not over bake.

5.  Wool socks ... especially when it's cold.  (Thank you, Costco.)   Wool stays soft,  cushy, and non-bunchy all day.  Plus they never seem to get sweaty and stiff like cotton does.  You can even wear the same pair two days in a row because they feel as good the second day ..... not that I do that ....

6.  Almond milk, unsweetened vanilla.  30 calories per cup.  Delicious on cereal.  Stores in your pantry till opened.  And in those intense debates as to the pros and cons of skim milk VS whole milk, raw or pasteurized .... you can walk away peacefully and go find something to watch on Netflix.

7.  Goodwill stores, which I won't elaborate on .... as I already did here.  But you'll still find me haunting their aisles nearly every week.

8.  Dollar stores where I continually find items that I just paid four or five times as much for, in another store.

If I think of more, I may add updates.  Or if you have some, trot them out in the comments.  After all, we're in this world together and each little contribution helps.  You never know, for example, whose legs I may have just rescued from that unwanted early spring glow.

The dreaded C word

I hardly feel like I deserve the title Cancer Survivor.  I simply found out I had breast cancer six weeks ago and now, one surgery later, I don't.  It's those brave women who endure weeks of chemo and/or radiation treatments with all the nasty side effects who deserve medals of gold.

"Calcifications" the doctor said after my last annual mammogram.  (With my family history, I was fairly vigilant about going in regularly.)  He pointed to speckles on an X-ray image.  Tiny speckles.  A biopsy confirmed the suspicions of the various physicians who suddenly crowded into my personal space.   Ductal carcinoma in situ, aka.... DCIS.  This is, I learned via my immediate Internet search, the kind to get.  I mean if you must get breast cancer, choose this.  Stage Zero.  Nothing bad mischievously sneaking off into unsuspecting lymph nodes or other various bodily crevices.  All things nefarious were neatly trapped in the milk ducts.  That's what "in situ" means. But it might not stay that way so those ducts and their residing speckles, had to go before they turned into something truly scary.  They and the surrounding real estate.  Therefore, my whole original *front porch* is now gone .... and construction has begun on a new and improved version which will not and can not go all kamikazi by trying to kill off the mother ship.   Can't complain about that.  No more worries about lumps or whatnot, and no.more.mammograms.  Another upside of this is the outpouring of love and prayers from my close little circle of friends and family.  There's nothing quite like the C-word to get people's attention.....even though, as I said above, I hardly feel like I qualify.

This has thrown a bit of a wrench into our travel plans so if you live nearby and wonder why that big ol' bus of ours never seems to actually GO anywhere.....this is one of the reasons.  T'was an interruption we didn't foresee when we started the transition into full time RVing.

All in all, I feel pretty darn lucky.   It's a glitch Dearest-Husband-Ever and I will get past together and THEN we will toe-test the water of venturing down the road, even before the new *front porch* is fully completed.  Afterall, the bus is as comfy as all get out and I can be home in my own bed .....wherever we go.

Update

It only took four days to sell our house.   T'was a little mind-blowing, to say the least.  We turn over the keys in about two weeks and then Life detours off its familiar path for awhile.   And no, I don't think the reality of what we've done has sunk in yet.

Let the record show that we CHOSE this.  We are willingly giving up a large and very comfortable home in a lovely neighborhood to live in a big rectangular rolling metal box.  Let the record also show that, as soon as we are tired of it, we will remove ourselves from said box and put ourselves back into house-normalcy.  So don't think we've hit upon hard times or are homeless.  No we haven't and no we're not.

We will stay close by as long as duties and responsibilities dictate and then beyond that, we still don't know.  Frankly, I'm nervous to travel in the above mentioned box because I am SURE that six miles out of town it will break down.  Husband tells me to not worry and if that happens, we'll have handy, ready-at-the-phone, roadside assistance guys hopping on over to fix the problem.  One reason for Husband's optimism and my pessimism is that I read RV blogs and he doesn't.

Here's to hoping this will never be us, even though it likely will be.

RVs are known for having "bugs" to work out and ours is no different.  So far Husband has purchased new tires and batteries, fixed a minor hose leak, replaced some kind of circuit for the water heater and the installation of the solar panels has been a series of setbacks.  (Don't ask.)  Not to mention installing something on our Jeep enabling it to become a "toad".  This means we will attach the Jeep to the rear of the motorhome somehow and hope we don't lose it along the interstate in Nebraska.   All this and we haven't even left the home-base yet.

In spite of the bugs, all the bloggers rave over the lifestyle.  So there must be perks, and it's the anticipation of those perks that fueled this whole plan.  Here's a fun one of our own -- Craigslist came through with a hydraulic "motorcycle lift" that will also attach to the rear of the motorhome (along with the Jeep), allowing us to bring our bike along too.  Therefore, at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future, we will be returning to Utah's canyon lands so that Husband can live his dream of cruising through those gorgeous red rocks on his BMW bike with me hanging on behind him.   (Gotta admit, I'm excited about that too.)

Not our bike.  Stole this off the net until we can get back there to make our own picture.  

Meanwhile, I am gazing out onto my soon-to-be former back yard, with its moss-entrenched lawn, metastasizing weeds, and budding leaves that will bury the new owner next fall ..... and smiling.

The announcement .....

Getting right to the point.

Our home of twelve years, in the town in which we have lived since the Eagles released Heartache Tonight, is going on the market.  And we are, for the time being, replacing it with a 40 foot motorhome.  This is something we've researched and thought about for a quite a while as you already know, if you've followed this blog.

The Beast

The current plan is to do a bit of traveling (nothing drastic) and figure out where we want to settle next... because ... to put it simply ... we can.  Our children, all successfully launched years ago, are of varying opinions of this plan.   But hey, we're still around.  I mean, nobody has died or moved to Fiji.  And we very well might find our next home right back in our current zip code.  Our manufacturing business of 25 years is firmly rooted here.  Husband (in his current status of semi-to-mostly retired) stays connected as needed on consulting and advisory basis and therefore, we figure we need to stay planted within a two to three hour radius.  So ..... who knows?   Old age is approaching, the years are ticking down and, at the risk of you all getting sick of hearing my favorite motto, ..... if you never try, you never know.  My entire life, except for two years at college, has all happened within 20 miles of where I grew up.  Sometimes a soul needs a change of scenery.

There are, of course, plenty of unknowns:

Will our house sell?
Where will we go?  
Will I ever gain the confidence to drive a bus the size of Detroit?
Will our marriage survive shrinking to 350 square feet?
Will I learn to use a convection oven?
Will the GOP ever regain the White House?
Etc.

This is downsizing with a vengeance.  The pool table and two bikes are sold.  Miscellaneous other stuff .... gone.  Goodwill is scoring big time with our discards.   My wardrobe will go from occupying most of a large walk-in closet and dresser to about four feet of closet space and three drawers.  And, sadly, Craigslist produced some buyers for our dear little trailer, who promised to love it as we did.

We have spent our forty years of marital life living according to The Rules.  We have literally defined Establishment.  We have reared four fabulous society-contributing kids (our greatest legacy); built, bought, and sold several homes; tamed acreage; started and ran a successful business providing many jobs and livelihoods; paid enough taxes to support every government worker and program on the continent (it seems); and contributed to the spiritual and physical welfare of generations.   So although certain responsibilities and obligations never cease, as soon as life's details are tied up, handed off, and/or stored away, we will take a brief hiatus to see what this land has to offer.  Together.  Husband and me ....  and the motorcycle.... somehow .... 'cause it's NOT going on Craigslist.

And you -- 'cause you're all invited along, via this blog.

The Queen of Cheap

My sister once said (something like) if you're raised without money, frugality sinks into your bones .... to which I would add .... and becomes a permanent part of your DNA.  Although I grew up in a mostly stable, nurturing environment, money was not part of the experience.  Hence, I learned from the get-go to pinch pennies and/or do without.

Since then, life has improved in that department, but the DNA is still ever-present.  I am cheap and always will be.

Combine that with a love for both shopping and new things, and a dilemma obviously arises.  Shopping ranks highly on my list of hobbies.  There's something about feeling somewhat deprived of material goods as a child and teenager, that spurred an inner sense of gotta-make-up-for-it as an adult.  High-end malls (which once in a while fill a rare need) exist, I think, for reasons other than actual shopping.  I mean, who pays those prices??  My sister, whose car automatically brakes for Dillard's, has the monthly and annual sale dates of the various big name stores carved into her calendar and sweeps through their clearance racks like a woman on a mission.

Years ago, I was introduced to several lesser-priced stores that happily fed my shopping habit, primarily TJMaxx, Marshalls, and my then-favorite, Ross.  Top that off with an occasional outlet mall, and I managed to keep severe shopping-withdrawal symptoms at bay without threatening the budget too badly.  (I remember one night waiting alone in the car, in the parking lot of a new strip mall not too far from home, as Husband ran in to buy a newspaper at the grocery store.  When I saw the new and unexpected TJMaxx sign on one of the adjoining stores, I literally squealed out loud.)  I used to think they would probably send out a posse, or a search and rescue team, if I failed to show up regularly.

That all abruptly ended less than two years ago when I rediscovered resale shopping.  And THAT happened when Goodwill built a brand new store a couple of miles from my house.  (Walking distance!)  Life has not been the same since.  (My sincere apologies to Ross and the others, as their profit margin surely has suffered without me.)

There are many different resale stores, but Goodwill is my personal favorite.  I know and am comfortable with its system.  The stuff there is cheap and the clothes are well organized, without being, for the most part, grungy.  Yes, it's best to wash anything you bring home but hey ..... no worries about shrinkage as it has likely been washed before.   I have purchased name brand shoes like Nike, Tevas, and Columbia hiking shoes (I love sport-type clothing) for a fraction of the cost of new ..... and much of the time they show no wear.   I bought some like-new Ecco sandals, for $8.00, then came home and looked up the exact shoe online where they sold for over $120.00.

Plus Goodwill has their color tag deal, which is..... the price tag on every item is one of five different colors, and each week a different color is priced half off.  They change the color each Sunday, so I am there bright and early on most Mondays, since Sunday-shopping violates personal standards by making others work unnecessarily on the Lord's day.

Now, whenever I need anything ..... be it a new toaster (my old one just died), sleeping bags for visiting grand kids (remember everything is washed when I get home), a suitcase with which to carry a heavy piece of Husband's telescope, a new makeup bag, a new swimsuit top, and/or the myriad of items needed to outfit our new trailer (cutting board, silverware, clock, mirror, cooking pans, etc.)..... I head to Goodwill.  And I have every Goodwill scoped out within 20 miles in any direction from where I live.

Resale shopping is like a treasure hunt, and the treasures abound.  Whenever I am complimented on something I am wearing, I chirp, "Goodwill!  Three bucks!"  That's right, I have no shame.  But who doesn't love a good deal?  And even though I seldom NEED anything, I'm sure, as I head over there each week, that there's something I just hadn't thought of .... that I really need.  And there usually is.

First World Whining

My internet has been down for three days and my personal meltdown is hovering closer.  If not for my iPad and phone, which can somehow pull the net out of some other source, the meltdown would have arrived by now.  The internet-tech guy on the phone said “they’re working on it”.  

Not good enough, People.  

Besides that, my elderly and dear-to-my-heart MacBook Pro laptop is lapsing into dementia.   I can’t even remember how old it is ..... maybe seven.... eight years old?  It has outlasted the lifetimes of our two previous laptops combined.  Hence, I am an Apple fan.  I don’t need to mess with the inner workings of a computer to configure it according to taste, which apparently is more doable on other PCs.  I just need it to work.     

After a rare sleeping-in morning, I got up to find dirt tracked around the house by my sweet but pre-occupied Husband whose shoes have been who-knows-where.  With a big sigh, I started the Roomba and headed off to fold laundry.  Life is hard sometimes.  

And who knows how long this washing machine will keep chugging along.  It’s over 20 years old and my dryer is almost 28.  (Thank you Maytag and Whirlpool.)  When they die, I will have to decide if I want to follow the trend with a front-loader.  Front loaders are NOT the answer to all life’s laundry problems, you know.  I do my reading.  I am aware.  

And our new, less-than-nine-thousand-miles, Jeep Grand Cherokee is overly fond of the dealer because it has been back there twice with issues concerning its Check Engine light.  Something about its DEF which is related to a government-mandated emissions control feature that China probably does not require over in its half of the world and who is, therefore, overly poluting the earth anyway.   Somehow I suspect that, if Toyota made an SUV that would fit in my garage AND pull our trailer, its Check Engine light would stay off.  

Finally, we have lived in this house nearly eleven years.  Eleven!  It’s even well into its second paint job.  How is that possible??  This means our house is not new anymore, evidenced by all those phone jacks we paid to have installed when it was built, that all sit unused now.  I’ll soon have to think about recarpeting and worry about the death of more appliances, like our garbage disposal which has begun to leak.  

However, to end on a positive note, Fox News has returned to Dishnet after a three-week contract dispute and I am happily back on the conservative cutting edge of world events.  Just in time for our president’s SOTU speech......  

Oh well, so much for a positive note.