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Straight pins and Tiny Houses

August 16, 2015

We will get to “tiny houses” in a minute.

 

If you have been reading these stories for a while, you might remember Elaine and I have been married quite a while, 38 wonderful years as a matter of fact.  You may even remember our wedding anniversary is in August.  Our wedding anniversary was last week.

 

As noted in these stories, Elaine and I live crazy lives.

 

The evening of our anniversary Elaine was working on a couple garments to be shown at an upcoming festival while we were eating dinner.  Elaine stopped working/eating and said, “Happy Anniversary..”  My heart stopped!

 

I had forgotten our anniversary.  Scrambling for something to say, I realized Elaine had forgotten our anniversary also.  I had dodged a bullet.  (Or so I thought.) Elaine said with everything that was going on maybe we should celebrate next week.  Gladly, I agreed.

 

Elaine and Ivy are quite creative in their design of artistic clothing.  It is not unusual to see garments being stretched and shaped by pinning the garments to the couch or a bed.  (I’m going to tie this all together in a minute.)

 

Walter, our Great Dane/Pit-bull mix woke me this morning.  When I opened my eyes, my face was inches away from a LARGE straight pin that was threaded into my blanket.  I loudly asked everyone in the house why a straight pin, a very LARGE one, was threaded in my blanket inches from my face.

 

With a quick movement Elaine removed the straight pin, giggled rolled over and went back to sleep. Unable to sleep myself, I wondered if possibly I was the only one who forgot our anniversary. Elaine couldn’t kill me with a straight pin, even a LARGE one unless it was dipped in something bad.

 

 

I asked Elaine if I could see the pin.  She told me, she was asleep when she “got rid” of it and didn’t know where she put it.  When I’m done writing today, I’m going to buy her an anniversary present.

 

Ivy watches the “tiny house” shows on cable television.  She has fallen for them hook, line and sinker.  For some reason she thinks she can live in a tiny house.  Ivy sees herself driving from site to site with her “house”  attached to the bumper of a car.  I have tried to explain that is called camping, but she thinks this would be different.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand downsizing.  Elaine and I moved 12 years ago from a 5 bedroom, 3 bath house into the 1100 sq ft. home we are in today. You know what a great idea that turned out to be.  I’ve been remodeling the house ever since.

 

I admit I’ve watched the show a couple times myself.  The TV host convinces the “tiny home” buyers to give away everything they own, except a firestarter and knife, leaving the buyer “Nude and Scared”.  Oh sorry, I might have combined a couple shows.

 

Anyway, Ivy convinced me it might be a fun Father/daughter day and attend the Tiny House Jamboree.  Who could say no to an invitation like that?

 

The Jamboree lived up to our expectations.  Both Ivy’s and mine.

 

While standing in line to get into the first “tiny house”, Ivy and I were befriended by a middle-aged man who informed us that he was looking for a tiny house just big enough for a keg of beer and a place to read.  He informed us that his wife didn’t have interest in “tiny houses” and that was the best part for him.

 

The first “tiny house had a 3′X3′ bathroom.  It had room for a single toothbrush, if it was the folding travel kind.  The kitchen was also 3′X3′, which is plenty of room if you plan on never preparing anything to eat.  It’s called the Tiny House Diet.  The buyer of this house needs to be tiny, to crawl in a hole in the ceiling to sleep in the attic.  Ivy is encouraged.  Maybe our new friend  can sit on a keg and read.

 

The second house delivered as expected, starting with a long line to get in the door. It had a slightly larger bathroom that had room for two folding toothbrushes and a bottle of combination mouthwash/shampoo.  The kitchen was larger, but no place to eat.  Sleeping quarters again were in the attic.  I found the “stairs” to the attic cute and dangerous to man and dogs alike.  This is the “tiny house” I would recommend to people who enjoy falling down “tiny” stairs.

 

The third “tiny” house was the best experience of all of the houses.  Not that standing in line is ever fun, but this house should have paid me for the time I wasted waiting in line to see this house.  Upon entering the house, we were greeted by the sales staff.  The sales woman showed us the washer/dryer/closet.  She did not show us the bathtub/toolbox, but we found it anyway. Yep, the bathtub was filled with carpentry tools.  It had some neat features, had I been a four year old or a gymnast.  This was the only house that had a back door.  I couldn’t use it fast enough.

 

Ivy and I looked at displays highlighting the merits of poop-burning toilets and composting toilets.   I guess this is one of the things that make tiny houses appealing. Personally, I can’t see myself spending the rest of my life handling poop ashes once a month, but the crowd was full of enthusiastic senior and near to senior citizens.

 

Ivy is more determined than ever for her and I to build a “tiny house”.  Maybe she is striking out because I didn’t build her a doll house when she was young.  If I can’t change her mind, she will be living in a tiny house with an incinerating toilet.  Wish me luck!

 

Our crazy lives!

 

Monner

Sorry about being late, I’ve been at the festival with Elaine.

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