A Fabulous Peck on the Cheek, Next Week a Kick in the Pants

 This was when the house was arriving-

I got such a kick out of an event that happened this week, well, two of them. I’m of the sort who, when I see or taste something stupendous, I have to run out and tell someone. You know, when we taste something really superb, we offer a bite to our spouse or friend, and say, “Oh, this is so good, here, try this.” The same works, though, if we taste something awful, “Augh, this is terrible, here taste this.”

Okay, first off, this is about moving our tiny house:

One reason I thought this driver was so superb was that I used to drive a pickup truck pulling a horse trailer, and whenever I needed to back it up, I broke out in a sweat. So, when the moving fellow said he would back his truck into our gravel driveway that runs alongside our regular drive and back to where the tiny house is parked under an RV- high roof, I said, “No way you can back into there.”

He said he could do it, and he did. He had changed his mind about using the Mule—a remote-controlled small tractor, and decided to use the truck instead.

Amazing. With a truck a half a block long, the cab reaching into the branches of our Magnolia tree alongside the driveway, carrying the Mule in a space behind the cab, and pulling a trailer longer than our house, he made it back to within inches of the tiny house.

The creative-thinking driver, with his magic trailer and remote-control device, lowered the back of the trailer to the ground, much like the bucket on a Bobcat, except it was 12 feet wide. He scooched the trailer loading ramp under the 4 x 4’s that supported the house, lifted, scooted, lifted, scooted until suddenly wheels appeared from beneath the trailer like landing gear descending from beneath an airplane, and settled in under the house.  With his remote control, the operator moved the entire house sideways to within an inch of the fence on one side and an inch to a tree limb on the other. He even cut a limb with his chainsaw and kept adjusting the house to line it up perfectly with the narrow driveway.  

A tight fit--top roof be gone.

When the house was completely off the ground and onto that trailer, he got in the truck and drove it out.

We still have the tiny house.

It’s parked in our graveled driveway.

We can show it for sale there and have it moved again when we get a a buyer. That tiny house is no longer trapped under that RV high overhead. We had to remove its roof to make space to lift the house, because dragging it out was dangerous.  

Want to buy a tiny house?

 

Don’t put your mother-in-law in it, unless she is very agile, for the bed, a full, brand new mattress is on rollers and slides easily under the raised kitchen floor. That arrangement is enormously better than the cramped loft, the only thing that was in the bare-boards house when we bought it. (Daughter Dear thought a tiny house would be a contribution to inexpensive housing. And it was her art project.)

She got rid of that loft right away—too claustrophobic. Now the building is insulated, beautifully plastered, and has a large tiled shower and a complete bathroom.

One of the contractors told us we could rent it for about $800 a month. Rent it out on Airbnb it,or live in it. Daughter Dear doesn’t have time to work on it anymore, and rather than have a carpenter come in and finish it, she figured that the owners could have a discount to purchase it if they complete it. That way they can put their own stamp on it.)

All the component parts are included except for a kitchen counter, and some elbow grease —you choose the counter. Being a tile aficionado, my daughter tiled the entire wall, in light brick above the kitchen cabinets. The bamboo flooring is provided, half in the bathroom is complete. There is slate tile for the kitchen. The sink, refrigerator, stove, faucets, lights, room heater, hot water heater, and a new mattress are provided.  The wiring was professionally installed. Water can be provided from a faucet. Toilet and drains need to be plumbed beneath the house. With an extension cord, a garden hose, and a composting toilet, it could be self- sufficient, provided you could dispose of gray water. You know, like in that back 40.

Door tile detail. 

 And now, the second magnificent find this week: It’s a love story as told to me a long time ago by a member of my family.

 

One thing about being a writer is that you find pages you wrote years ago and forgot about them, so when you find them, it’s a surprise. I found this old story, tucked away in the garage. It was the inside pages to a Newsletter I wrote ages ago.

My family member who is no longer with us, said it was about her sister.

When the sister was 28 years old and had just left a romantic relationship, she decided she knew there was one thing she wanted. That was a child.

So, when an old boyfriend rolled into town, she took advantage of the situation, struck up another rendezvous, became pregnant, and was prepared to be a single mother.

The baby was born at 28 weeks of gestation, had problems for a time, but survived, grew, and was healthy.

Sister rented an apartment (Where? I don’t know, this sounds like New York). The apartment was on the third floor, a walk-up. The owners, a Jewish couple, lived on the first floor, the second was rented, and the sister had the third.

The owners agreed to care for the baby while sister worked, and they decided they had another task. That was finding a husband for sister.

When the second-floor tenant left, leaving the apartment available, the owners held out on renting it until they had the perfect tenant. That left the apartment vacant for quite some time. The sister thought it just didn’t rent.

But then it did. To a nice single man.

One day, after her sister picked up her baby from the owners on the first floor, she walked from the second to the third. The man saw her upstairs, fumbling with her keys as she tried to get into her apartment while holding the baby. She had just had her wisdom tooth extracted and was swollen up like a cantaloupe. On top of that, she had Bell’s Palsy, which causes one side of the face to droop. (Some people recover from this, some don’t.)

The man came up behind her and said, “You look awful. Let me hold the baby for you so you can get some rest.”

They fell in love and got married.

The Jewish couple paid for the wedding.

 

 

Life is What Happens While You Are Making Other Plans

The week has been filled with other events besides my writing. Thanks for hanging in there with me until I get back on track.

Today is Tuesday—yes, I know, I’m blogging late, but I had things in mind to write, just not time to tell them.

I wanted to talk about the takeaways I got from this past week.

Number One, The Buddhist’s Peace Walk:

 

 

I’m so impressed with the monks who make no political statements, no religious judgements, just walk to awaken Peace. And many people are responding. It is a great attention getter and people need a leader, so they rally. And so am I, for they have touched my heart.

They made me rethink the search for happiness everyone talks about. “Search for Peace.” That sounds more doable. We can’t be happy all the time, but we could be peaceful in our bodies, in thought and deed, and let happiness come as a surprise, a gift, a blessing.

The monks just walk, and Aloka, the Peace Dog, trots along, although now he is in recovery from surgery, and I’m glad they are taking good care of him.

And their walk added perspective to the hours I needed for a Continuing Education Real Estate Course I didn’t want to take.

Thirty hours were easy compared to walking 2,300 miles in 120 days.

Takeaway from my Course:

“Let’s sell the Tiny House on April 11, 2026 ,” I tell my daughter, “in honor of the Fair Housing Act of April 11, 1968.

That act was a Humongous TURNING POINT for the country and for human rights.

In 1968, President Lyndon B. Johnson pushed through the Fair Housing Act. This was when riots were happening, and America was in the midst of unrest. President Johnson called Congress and said, “Pass that Bill!”

The bill, which had been debated to the nth degree with strong opposition, passed the following day.

Now, no person can be denied the purchase of a house based on color, race, Natural Origin, familial rights (children), disabilities, or sex. Elder rights came next. And the Disability and sex (it didn’t make sex illegal, it allowed a single woman to buy a house) came a couple of years later.

Here’s our Tiny House on day one:

 

Today, the Tiny House is not complete, but it is close.

Daughter Dear has no time to complete it, although it was dear to her heart when she began renovating it, and she’s good at bashing out walls, tiling, and adding exquisite features.

A buyer with a few hours could complete it.

She worked her fingers to the bone, and we found that a small house needs the same as a big house, just everything scrunched into a small space. The plumbing is in, the electricity was professionally installed, it’s piped for water, has a wall heater, kitchen cabinets, and an under-the-counter refrigerator. No countertop. We have the sink and bamboo flooring that need completion. DD tiled a complete wall in the kitchen and a complete bathroom with a tiled shower large enough for two people, or maybe a Great Dane dog.

The wall between the bathroom and the “living room,” which will be a bedroom at night, is still studs only. A mirrored wall there would give the illusion of a larger space, if an owner could stand to look at themselves that much.

Well, this sounds like a sales pitch. I wanted you to know what we are dealing with. And that my Real Estate course made me want to honor the FHA.

Three: Surprise,

The course mentioned the vagus nerve, and that it takes up more space in our bodies than our skin. It is there to connect to the amygdala of the brain, the seat of our feelings of unease and for telegraphing danger. It has kept us alive for millennia, though not in a fail-safe way, for we have developed so much logic that we talk ourselves out of intuitive feelings, sometimes saying it is only our imagination.

Real Estate Agents go into dangerous places sometimes, empty houses, warehouses, lofts, at night sometimes. The idea is to be focused and aware.

I was struck this week by a lecture on the Native Nations of  North America—how long they have been here, and that they had some of the same social issues we have—like fighting each other, and territorial disputes.

Sometimes you know something, but then later you really get it. That was the way I was with society and culture. I wondered how people like Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Leonardo da Vinci, and Jesus could be so wise in times of barbarism.

Like, suddenly brilliance pops up.

It’s that we have cultures within our society. We have skin heads, KKK members living alongside Priests and Saints, and monks who do not proselytize, yet get verbally attacked for not being Christian. We have Southern, Northern, Midwest, Rural, and Urban inhabitants.

We have people who want to bomb entire areas back to the Stone Age, while others say, “Don’t do it.” “Your decision effects the rest of us.”

See how anger gets attention, and a soft voice hardly raises an eyebrow? Yet silence--it seems that the monks are on to something, walk, meditate, be in relaxed focus, make a statement, push yourself for a cause. 

We have progressive personalities and Conservative personalities of varying degrees, some are genetically predetermined, some are taught.

And then we try to have a Democracy where the majority rules.

It’s tricky.

 

Here is the Tiny House now, we had it pushed in under a high overhead to keep it out of the weather, and to allow DD easy access to materials in the garage a few feet away. The trouble is, our wonderful creative House mover, moved himself to Eastern Oregon, and now we must find a way to get the house back out. 

.

• "Life is pretty simple:
  You do some stuff. Most fails. Some works.
  You do more of what works."

  --Leonardo da Vinci