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May 14 2009
Lest you think I’m making up the story of the frequently-appearing Pomeranian in a life vest, I’ve attached footage of one of the row-bys below. She quite frequently floats by in a kayak, as well.
One of her owners corrected me about the fact that she’s actually a Long-Haired Chihuahua rather than a Pomeranian. She’s apparently quite sensitive about the distinction. So please consider this my editorial correction.
May 13 2009
First, I just have to say, wow. I can’t believe the number of thoughtful comments I received last week as part of the contest I posted for the copy of Jay Shafer’s Small House Book. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to respond! You gave me some fantastic feedback which I plan to incorporate in the upcoming weeks.
Based on the random number generator I used, Mary will be receiving the copy of the book. For those of you who won’t be receiving it, please don’t be too discouraged. I have a feeling I’ll be doing something similar monthly, so keep your eyes out for future giveaways.
And keep those comments coming! They are really helpful in terms of determining how I can better structure content on my site to meet your needs as readers.
(And if you didn’t happen to win the copy of the book, it can now be ordered from the Tumbleweed Tiny House Company website.)
May 13 2009
So while I wasn’t able to make the small home get-togethers in either San Diego or Sebastapol that happened a few months back, the small home movement seems to have decided to come to me.
Tammy from RowdyKittens.com and Amanda from Greenaerie are both going to be in Portland this week. Tammy is actually intrepid enough to be willing to crash with me at the floating home for a night. (I’ve warned her it’s pretty much going to be like camping except with slightly better facilities and most likely more sawdust.)
Tammy and I are currently trying to coordinate a get-together with Amanda. I also know she wants to get some photos of my little floating home.
So don’t be too surprised if pictures and video footage of various degrees of silliness show up in the next week or so. (I’m sure Rumi will get in on the act with at least Tammy. He can smell a cat lover a mile off.)
It should also be a good opportunity for the three of us to meet face to face and discuss a couple of ideas we’ve been kicking around informally.
May 13 2009
Note: This post is an excerpt from an article by Heather on The Greenest Dollar.
It is with the utmost excitement that I share this idea with you. And, the idea is constructing a home using old steel shipping containers.
Now, before you throw your mouse at the screen in disgust because those steel crates are just too ugly to even think about being used as a house, just take a look for a moment at what’s possible and then we’ll talk…
Pretty amazing, right? All of those images are from ContainerCity.com, which is the website for Urban Space Management, a group of builders in London who are building entire communities, schools, and farmer’s markets using old freight containers.
They’re funky, green, amazingly affordable, and comfortable. If you want to see more images (all of which will knock your socks off) they have a really amazing portfolio of past projects on their website. Again, which you can find here.
There’s also this really amazing clip from Modern Marvels that you can watch. It’s all about Container City, how the builders did it, and how much it costs to live there (you’ll be amazed at how cheap it is.)
Can You Really Live In A Shipping Container?
Well, I’m new to this myself. When I originally discovered micro home living, I stumbled across a few people who had transformed shipping containers into homes, but I was so enthralled with the modernist designs of the pre-fab mini homes that I gave the freight homes a blind eye. My mistake.
I stumbled across them again over the weekend, and this time it was a Eureka! moment. I mean, the idea of living in an recycled freight container is just brilliant. It’s still a mini home because they’re not that big, and they’re way, WAY cheaper than the weeHouse or miniHome designs I was looking at (which were going to set me back at least $150,000, not including the land. Ouch!)
How much are shipping containers?
Well, after digging around online this weekend, it seems as if the average is $1,500 to $3,000 each. And, that’s for shipping crates that are 40 ft long x 8 ft wide x 8 ft tall.
Another amazing thing about these shipping crates is that they’re made to stack on top of each other. If you watched the YouTube video about Container City, then you know that every container is made exactly the same, which means they can easily be stacked. This leads to some funky, Lego-like structures that are fun and very interesting to look at.
So How Green Are Shipping Containers?
Shipping containers can be made as green as you want them to be.
Andrew and I are so enthralled with this idea that I think we’re going to go this route instead of buying a micro home. Our idea is to buy three containers, two of which we’ll combine and renovate into a living space, and one which we’ll leave separate for a home office/exercise space.
My goal is to incorporate solar into our design so that we can be off-grid wherever we end up plopping our crates down. We’ve already come up with a really cool design (opening up the roof to allow tons of natural light in, as well as cutting plenty of oval windows like they did with the Container City project, and building a wrap-around deck).
Time for research mode.
Aren’t Shipping Containers Cold and Uncomfortable?
Well, obviously I’ve never been in one. But all the images I’ve seen thus far say the exact opposite. These freight containers are not dark, cold hovels to keep the rain off your head, and you won’t feel like a hobo if you live in one. Once you do some renovations, they can be incredibly inviting, warm spaces that let in far more light than my current home does.
People have cut away entire walls, opened up the roof, and stacked two or three or four willy-nilly to create living spaces that are amazingly inspiring.
You can also buy shipping containers that are already insulated, although I don’t know at this point how well they’re insulated.
And like all mini-homes, they’re also very cost-effective to live in. How much money do you think it takes to heat a 300 square foot living space? What about to cool one in the summer?
Answer: not a lot. Especially if you incorporate a small wood-burning stove.
This young couple (pic on right) in New Zealand transformed a small shipping container into a paradise house. Think they pay a lot of utilities?
No way.
More Shipping Container Resources
So, is your heart pumping with excitement like mine was this weekend? If so, awesome. Here’s a list of more resources you can check out to get you moving…
May 12 2009
As I get more comfortable with my video camera I’m hoping to do more of these quick updates…
By the end of the weekend I managed to get the wall put back together and sanded down in preparation for the new low-VOC stain and sealant. I decided to hold off on the stain, however, until after my houseguests this week are gone. The front two windows are framed. I just need to re-hang the venetian blinds until I get the new window coverings in.
May 12 2009
The upside of having traumatized my cat with the plane flight to Portland was that introducing him to my floating home was relatively non-eventful by comparison. Well, at least to start, anyway.
By the time we made it past two airplane flights, one metal detector, one determinedly-helpful Texan, two beers, a 20 minute car ride, and a series of marina ramps in the Oregon rain, Rumi was more-than-happy to be out of his carrier inside something at least vaguely house-like in appearance.
This charitable attitude lasted about twenty minutes into him casing the joint. Then he started to ask increasingly pointed questions Non-cat-owners may be skeptical about my ability to translate a Balinese, but for the believers amongst you, the chatter went along the following lines:
“Oh thank Bastet! We’re back inside. Hey, check this out! There’s even a litter box. Was wondering when I might see one of those. Pardon me for a second, here… Ah. Much better.
Now how’s a chap supposed to get something to eat around here? Oh, I see. Kibble over here. And water. Mrpmh! Chomp. Slurp. Uh, you don’t happen to have a beer lying around anywhere, perchance? Oh well. No worries. This will have to do for now.
So where in the world are we exactly? Oh never mind. You’re no help. You don’t even know where they keep the beer here. And if I ask you, you’re likely to stuff me back in that dreadful carrier. (Sniff.) I’ll just have to check things out for myself.
Interesting. Interesting. Hmm. Smells like birds. (Dinner, perhaps?) Oh, hey! A koosh! Don’t know where it’s been, though. Better drop it in the water bowl. You can never be too safe about that sort of thing…
Hmm. Nice views out the window. Warm spot of sun. No small children or dogs in sight. Not too bad, all things considered… just… where exactly is the REST of the house? And where did they put the furniture? How’s a cat supposed to nap around here?”
At which point I received an inquisitive yowl of inquiry and piercing blue-eyed stare. And no matter how many ways I tried to explain that the two rooms and bathroom were all there was, he simply didn’t seem to get it.
Rumi spent most of the first night walking a puzzled circle through the doors of the house trying to figure out where the other rooms had got off to. About every fifth lap through the house he’d stop by the sleeping loft, stuff his paw up my nose long enough to wake me up and inquire again about what exactly was the deal with the place.
Sometime around 4 AM I decided it probably was a really good thing I hadn’t bought a Tumbleweed or Rumi would have found himself stuffed down the compost toilet in my desperation to get a few hours sleep.
Oddly enough, the fact that our new home was situated on the water didn’t register at all with the cat at all until Day 2.
Just before lunch, Rumi was lazing on a sunny window ledge in the front room when a fishing trawler roared by at top speed.
Rumi’s ears flattened and his eyes bugged out of his angular little head. “That’s a BOAT. What the freak is a BOAT doing tearing through our front yard?!”
And before I could field that question, the wake from the boat hit the house, rocking it violently from side to side.
Rumi hastily scuttled from the window sill to the floor where he did his best impression of a two-dimensional object until the worst of the rocking had stopped. Then he looked up at me in abject horror. “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me! You’re telling me we’re on water? WATER?!!” he finished with a squeak.
I tried to scoop Rumi up into my lap to comfort him but he was having none of it. Instead, he scurried to his carrier and tucked himself inside. If he could have figured out the zipper I’m pretty sure he would zipped himself in, too.
Managing to reassemble some small modicum of dignity, he blinked once sagely and then informed me: “You can take me back to the airport, now.”
Needless to say, Rumi spent most of Day 2 having the feline version of a nervous breakdown. I guess that’s understandable considering he’d just discovered his new home was built upon the most hated (to him) substance on the planet. And I, the one who was usually at his every beck and call, was the one who’d taken him into this very personal version of Cat Hell.
I think what probably saved our relationship was the ducks.
Sometime in the late afternoon of Day 2, our local momma duck and seven ducklings swam lazily by. Rumi was able to catch a glimpse of them from within the confines of the carrier. He might have been able to resist Momma Duck by herself even though she was, by far, the biggest bird he’d ever seen. But the ducklings were just too much.
Rumi was back up in the windowsill chattering in monosyllabic feline lust before he knew what hit him. And even after they drifted away he had no interest in going back into the carrier. He was just so blown away by what he’d seen.
That ended up being the only duckling sighting on Day 2, but a heron swam by about fifteen minutes later. And then a Pomeranian in a kyak a little after that. That pretty much clinched the deal. Grudgingly, he told me it might be okay if we hung around and checked things out for a few days. I just wasn’t to go getting any crazy ideas about baths being okay for cats while I was on this whole water kick..
Since then, Rumi’s favorite place to hang out is in the window by my desk. Periodically he’ll ask me “Will you get a look at this?”
I suspect we may have just found his personal version of cable TV.
(For the die-hard Rumi fans, I’ve attached some rough footage of both Rumi and the ducklings below. Be forewarned that I’m still trying to figure out how to manage the camera without making viewers seasick. Especially when juggling a leash at the same time.)
May 11 2009
As part of the materials Greg Johnson provided to the writer for Flyp Media, he created a new video introducing the Small House Society. I’m really impressed by how well it’s put together and the amount of information Greg was able to cover in under ten minutes.
This is the best introduction to the tiny house movement I’ve seen. You can check it out below. The video is also available on Blip.tv, Vimeo.com.
Additional information on the Small House Society can be found on ResourcesforLife.com. If you are interested in becoming a member, the annual cost is $5.
May 11 2009
As part of their most recent issue Fly Media has just released an interactive article on the Small Home Movement by Amy Van Vechten.
Greg Johnson from the Small House Society and ResourcesforLife.com and Tammy from RowdyKittens.com are both featured in the article. (I spent several hours being interviewed as well but apparently landed on the cutting room floor. Them’s the breaks.)
This is the first interactive article I’ve seen on tiny homes and I think they did a wonderful job putting it together. It includes some wonderful photography and media content.
Please take a moment to check it out and also forward it on to people you think might appreciate it.
May 11 2009
Over the next week Coming Unmoored will be featuring a series of articles focused on shipping container homes…
There are a lot of architects and builders that are beginning to wake up to the idea of using cargo containers for building. There are a lot of reasons that this idea’s time has come. I thought I would take a moment and outline why I like cargo container construction. Sure, I don’t exactly feel “girly” discussing this topic, but the more I learn about cargo container construction, the more I like it!
First, due to the current economic slowdown, there are a lot of cargo containers piling up. By a lot, we are talking about tens of thousands of them just sitting at docks all across the world. A very large percentage of them are in Asian ports. It may now be possible to get a better deal than ever on a cargo container.
In terms of prices, cargo containers can be found as cheaply as $1,000, or may cost as much as $6,000 or more. Using a cargo container that has already been manufactured and is currently on a dock somewhere getting rusty, seems like a great eco-friendly idea.
The second reason to consider building with cargo containers is that they are very strong and durable. After all, these containers are designed to be stacked on top of one another, while full of goods. This fact speaks volumes about the strength of these containers.
This durability translates into other benefits as well. Insects, vermin and mold have a tough time with steel. There are few insects that find steel worth the time. Therefore, if you live in a termite populated area, your termite problem is basically solved.
Safety is another major point in favor of using cargo containers. Due to the material from which they are constructed, cargo containers are going to be very safe. Since the cargo container is built out of steel, it gives a homeowner an additional layer of physical safety from storms (and potentially intrusions as well). Replacing wood and brick with metal also makes container homes resistant to fire.
Transportation is a big plus in favor of cargo container construction. The largest piece of your housing puzzle can be delivered on a truck directly to your housing site. This compares nicely to having to bring out every single piece of wood and brick that you will use for your project.
If building with cargo containers sounds like something you might be interested in doing, we recommend that you find an architect that has already tackled a project in your area. Every year more and more architects are “taking the plunge,” and building with this strong yet flexible building option.
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May 10 2009
For those of you who don’t happen to follow me on Twitter, I flew Rumi up from Albuquerque to Portland this past Tuesday. It proved to be a bit of a day. For both of us.
Just in case you’ve missed the references in the past, Rumi is my one-year-old, bat-eared, Balinese cat. He’s quite spoiled and he has all the survival instincts of a developmentally-challenged lemming. He’s also quite the character, as my friends in Tucson and Albuquerque can attest to.
The beginning of the adventure was when I discovered that the ticket to stuff Rumi under the seat in front of me costs $15 more than my own. My friend Amber pointed out after-the-fact that I should have just bought Rumi his own seat. (Which, in fact, he ended up having anyway because the plane was so empty. We had a whole aisle to our self.) I have no idea why an airline feels compelled to charge $115 for the right to stuff a cat under a seat. I can’t imagine they have much additional costs involved with having a cat there rather than a purse. Admittedly, they do have to track how many on-board pets they have so that they don’t inadvertently set one of their allergic passengers into an asthmatic fit. However, I suspect the pricing is a lot more about lets-take-advantage-of-a-captive-market situation.
Anyway, the next step in the adventure was getting Rumi into his carrier the morning of the flight. Charlie recently had to drop Rumi off at the vet to get his teeth cleaned and the process took him 45 minutes. It was not at all pretty. (Believe me, I heard about it from both the boyfriend and the cat after the fact.)
So, needless to say, Charlie was dumbstruck when I simply scooped up Rumi, dropped him in the carrier, and smoothly zipped the thing up on the first try. I, of course, attributed this feat to my remarkable rapport with animals. The truth of the matter, however, is that Rumi is less awake at 4 AM than most caffeine-dependent humans I know.
You better believe he woke up in a hurry after that, however. In his world, little black cat carrier = nothing he’s going to like as a next stop. By the time I was ready to load the carrier into the car, it was busy bouncing around the living room as though I had the Tasmanian Devil packed inside, and the wails of dismay issuing from the carrier were fluctuating over a three octave range. I swear I could have opened the windows on my Mini and been mistaken for an emergency vehicle we were so loud.
Rumi finally settled down about the point I reached the airport.
Checking him in was uneventful and even a little amusing when they issued him his own little kitty boarding pass. The security line was another story entirely.
I just want to go on record and say that whatever nimrod at Homeland Security who wrote the requirement that all pets now have to go through the metal detector with their owners has never had to stuff a hysterical seven-pound cat back into a carrier when they are quite clear about the fact that they didn’t want to be there in the first place.
I normally try to wear comfortable clothes when I fly. Based on my experiences this week, I don’t recommend this approach for anyone traveling with a cat.
Tuesday morning I was wearing a pair of yoga pants, a white tank top, and a hoodie. Nevermind that I’ve been allowed through the Albuquerque metal detector wearing the same hoodie on multiple occasions before. This time I was asked to take it off. Because, God knows, on top of my Weapon-of-Mass-Destruction Balinese, I might have explosives or some such nonsense in the zipper of my hoodie.
Long story short, I normally only wear white tank tops under another piece of clothes in lieu of a bra, so I was showing a lot more skin in the security line than I felt comfortable. And then I had to pull Rumi from his carrier. Rumi clung to me for dear life as we went through the metal detector together. So there I was trying to cradle my cat to me with one hand and keep my tank top from being yanked down to my bellybutton with the other. I was only about half successful on both accounts.
Things only got worse on the other side, when it came to trying to get Rumi back into his carrier. He was hanging on to my shirt for dear life and I just about lost my top entirely trying to peel him off my body, much to the amusement of the security guards–none of whom were willing to offer any sort of assistance.
I’ll be eternally grateful to the Texan businessman in the line behind me who helped me save what little was left of my modesty by helping me disentangle Rumi from my shirt and get him back into his carrier. He kindly explained to me he had a cat back home he really missed but whom he suspected would be even less acomodating to flying than my “little treasure”. (Ladies, anyone who doesn’t think knights in shining armor can show up in Stetsons has never met this guy.)
Thankfully, the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Rumi eventually reached the conclusion that things inside his carrier were far less scary that things happening outside. And by the second flight he’d recovered enough of his equilibrium that he worked his usually charm on the stewardesses. They actually offered to bring him his own beer when they caught me letting him sneak sips off mine and, at the end of the fligh,t they awarded him plastic wings.
Suffice to say, by the time Rumi and I reached my place in Oregon, all either of us wanted to do was take a long nap which probably helped ease the transition somewhat to the floating home.
(To be continued…)
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