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So where the heck are you anyway?
This is the rather eclectic blog of a late-thirty-something woman in the process of overhauling her life in the wake of a short-lived and spectacularly disastrous marriage to the “Perfect Guy”.
If you don’t already know me, perhaps the most important thing for you to know, at this point, is that in the last two years I’ve radically downsized my life from a high-consumption lifestyle in Tucson, Arizona to a small floating home in Portland, OR. And by small I mean that my floating home will have only 550 square feet of living space after all the renovations are done. Currently I’m living in 300 square feet–a good portion of which is currently a construction zone.
And, just to make life more exciting, I decided to make this shift in the wake of having been married to someone worth millions. Many millions. (It should be noted that with the finalization of our divorce, he’s still worth millions. I am nowhere close.)
Just to be clear, this is not a “Poor Me” tale. The precipitous decline in my net worth had very little directly to do with my decision to relocate and overhaul my entire lifestyle. I’m sure people out there will be skeptical, but my experience amongst the most wealthy in the U.S. finally taught me to believe in the concept of “too rich”.
I have quite the sweet tooth and have never understood people’s complaints when they described a dessert as being “too rich”. I just could not relate to their experience of feeling sick from too much of a good thing… until a couple years of my lifestyle with my ex-husband.
I came to learn, however, that it’s possible to: travel to the point where all the marvelous places start to blur together and you no longer have any sense of “home”; eat so many luxury meals that all you want is a peanut butter sandwich; own so much stuff that you start to fantasize about arson just to have some breathing room in your immediate surroundings.
I had let my life become the worst possible exaggeration of American culture.
In the last fifty years, the population of the United States has stopped referring to one another as “citizens”. It’s far more common nowadays to hear us described as “consumers”. And the American Dream seems to have mutated into possessing the newest, fastest, hippest version of EVERYTHING of which we possibly could ever dream. The underlying belief seems to be that if we could only possess everything we coveted, then we’d finally be happy.
I had it, dear reader. And, trust me, I wasn’t any more happy than where I started.
A quick disclaimer at the outset…
This is in no way intended to be one of your sleekly-packaged, narrowly-focused, terribly-helpful blogs intended to draw lots of advertising dollars for its creator. While I love to browse through those, I’m far too ADD to create one myself.
If you decide to thumb through the pages on my site, you’re going to find a hodgepodge of subjects that are of current interest in my including, but probably not limited to: simple-living, the small/tiny home movement, floating homes, frugality, responsible financial stewardship, and living green(er).
I also guarantee you find more information than you ever wanted to know about my cat, Rumi, along with periodic commentary about the men in my life, past and present. (Which any self-proclaimed SEO expert worth his Tevas will tell you is the absolute kiss-of-death for a blog.)
I will do my best to categorize entries by subject so you can avoid what doesn’t interest you. But consider yourself duly warned. A wide variety of things interest me and I tend to collect shiny odds and ends in my blogs like a magpie with a cache of trinkets.
Why did I feel compelled to add yet another blog to the multitude that already exist?
Because I’m enamored with the sound of my own voice and tale. I mean, how could there possibly be anything more interesting than me?
Alright. A little less tongue-in-cheek…
I created this blog, in part, so that my friends in Arizona–who are convinced I’ve totally taken leave of my senses—have an easy way to keep tabs on me when I relocate. It is my dearest hope that if I manage to post entries on a semi-regular basis that demonstrate some surviving grasp on reality they will resist the urge to drag me back to the desert and lock me away somewhere disgustingly cheerful with daily macramé classes “for my own good”.
I have also been a storyteller as long as I can remember. I enjoy sharing anecdotes from my life with others. My intention is try to tell some of my journey in the next year or so in an Eat, Pray, Love fashion. (And, if you don’t know what Eat, Pray, Love is you: #1 Probably have a Y chromosome. And #2 Have been nowhere near a bookstore in the last year.)
Moreover, I’m hoping some of the information I have on this site may help others who are traveling along a similar path. As someone who lives and dies by her high-speed internet connection, I was surprised at how little information was online about floating homes when I started trying to learn about them.
And, while there are quite a lot of helpful, how-to articles on how to go about simplifying various aspects of one’s life, I haven’t run across many sites that tell the story from beginning to end, gory failures and all, of someone’s attempts to put all this freely-available, well-intentioned advice to good use.
I can’t speak for anyone else. But I know, for me, I enjoy knowing the details of the unconfident journey, U-turns, dead-ends, diasasters and all. I mean, if one of Lewis and Clark’s men ends up getting eaten by a bear, you better believe I want to know about it. (And, if I’m honest with myself, I suppose my story has the potential to end up a Donner Party kind of tale.)
Whatever the ending may be, here’s one to add to the collection of personal journey travelogues. I hope you enjoy it.
So where the heck are you anyway?
This is the rather eclectic blog of a late-thirty-something woman in the process of overhauling her life in the wake of a short-lived and spectacularly disastrous marriage to the “Perfect Guy”.
If you don’t already know me, perhaps the most important thing for you to know, at this point, is that in the last two years I’ve radically downsized my life from a high-consumption lifestyle in Tucson, Arizona to a small floating home in Portland, OR. And by small I mean that my floating home will have only 550 square feet of living space after all the renovations are done. Currently I’m living in 300 square feet–a good portion of which is currently a construction zone.
And, just to make life more exciting, I decided to make this shift in the wake of having been married to someone worth millions. Many millions. (It should be noted that with the finalization of our divorce, he’s still worth millions. I am nowhere close.)
Just to be clear, this is not a “Poor Me” tale. The precipitous decline in my net worth had very little directly to do with my decision to relocate and overhaul my entire lifestyle. I’m sure people out there will be skeptical, but my experience amongst the most wealthy in the U.S. finally taught me to believe in the concept of “too rich”.
I have quite the sweet tooth and have never understood people’s complaints when they described a dessert as being “too rich”. I just could not relate to their experience of feeling sick from too much of a good thing… until a couple years of my lifestyle with my ex-husband.
I came to learn, however, that it’s possible to: travel to the point where all the marvelous places start to blur together and you no longer have any sense of “home”; eat so many luxury meals that all you want is a peanut butter sandwich; own so much stuff that you start to fantasize about arson just to have some breathing room in your immediate surroundings.
I had let my life become the worst possible exaggeration of American culture.
In the last fifty years, the population of the United States has stopped referring to one another as “citizens”. It’s far more common nowadays to hear us described as “consumers”. And the American Dream seems to have mutated into possessing the newest, fastest, hippest version of EVERYTHING of which we possibly could ever dream. The underlying belief seems to be that if we could only possess everything we coveted, then we’d finally be happy.
I had it, dear reader. And, trust me, I wasn’t any more happy than where I started.
A quick disclaimer at the outset…
This is in no way intended to be one of your sleekly-packaged, narrowly-focused, terribly-helpful blogs intended to draw lots of advertising dollars for its creator. While I love to browse through those, I’m far too ADD to create one myself.
If you decide to thumb through the pages on my site, you’re going to find a hodgepodge of subjects that are of current interest in my including, but probably not limited to: simple-living, the small/tiny home movement, floating homes, frugality, responsible financial stewardship, and living green(er).
I also guarantee you find more information than you ever wanted to know about my cat, Rumi, along with periodic commentary about the men in my life, past and present. (Which any self-proclaimed SEO expert worth his Tevas will tell you is the absolute kiss-of-death for a blog.)
I will do my best to categorize entries by subject so you can avoid what doesn’t interest you. But consider yourself duly warned. A wide variety of things interest me and I tend to collect shiny odds and ends in my blogs like a magpie with a cache of trinkets.
Why did I feel compelled to add yet another blog to the multitude that already exist?
Because I’m enamored with the sound of my own voice and tale. I mean, how could there possibly be anything more interesting than me?
Alright. A little less tongue-in-cheek…
I created this blog, in part, so that my friends in Arizona–who are convinced I’ve totally taken leave of my senses—have an easy way to keep tabs on me when I relocate. It is my dearest hope that if I manage to post entries on a semi-regular basis that demonstrate some surviving grasp on reality they will resist the urge to drag me back to the desert and lock me away somewhere disgustingly cheerful with daily macramé classes “for my own good”.
I have also been a storyteller as long as I can remember. I enjoy sharing anecdotes from my life with others. My intention is try to tell some of my journey in the next year or so in an Eat, Pray, Love fashion. (And, if you don’t know what Eat, Pray, Love is you: #1 Probably have a Y chromosome. And #2 Have been nowhere near a bookstore in the last year.)
Moreover, I’m hoping some of the information I have on this site may help others who are traveling along a similar path. As someone who lives and dies by her high-speed internet connection, I was surprised at how little information was online about floating homes when I started trying to learn about them.
And, while there are quite a lot of helpful, how-to articles on how to go about simplifying various aspects of one’s life, I haven’t run across many sites that tell the story from beginning to end, gory failures and all, of someone’s attempts to put all this freely-available, well-intentioned advice to good use.
I can’t speak for anyone else. But I know, for me, I enjoy knowing the details of the unconfident journey, U-turns, dead-ends, diasasters and all. I mean, if one of Lewis and Clark’s men ends up getting eaten by a bear, you better believe I want to know about it. (And, if I’m honest with myself, I suppose my story has the potential to end up a Donner Party kind of tale.)
Whatever the ending may be, here’s one to add to the collection of personal journey travelogues. I hope you enjoy it.
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