Putting it Out There

Friends keep telling me to “put it out in the universe”, that I have to create my own reality. I need to set aside the negativity and embrace the positive.

Yeah, I live in Eugene, Oregon. How did you guess?

So, this is me putting it out into the universe because it’s better than doing nothing.

A bit of a backstory first:

My friend met and married a man in Central America, and she packed up her son, most of her house, and moved down south. I rented her house from her. This was intended as a long-term arrangement. I hate moving with a passion. I’m definitely a homebody and would be very content to not go out at all.

Less than 2 years later, for some weird reason, this spur of the moment marriage didn’t work, and she decided to move back to the states. There’s a lot more to the story, some ugly stuff and stuff that hurts my heart, but in the end, that’s irrelevant. The fact remains that I have to find a new place to move in a housing market with nearly 0 vacancies, waiting lists, and no money for first and last. I wasn’t counting on having to move. I’m a 50 <cough> -something woman with mediocre credit (raised 5 kids alone) and no savings. I am not what lenders look for in a home loan candidate. I’ll probably never be able to retire. We’ll work on putting out the retirement thing to the universe later. One universe request at a time.

My friends are wonderfully supportive, but they always ask the same question: What do I want? What am I looking for?

To me, this is an entirely different question than what do I need. I need 2 to 4 bedrooms and at least 2 bathrooms. I need a fenced yard for my King Shepherd, which is another obstacle, as GSDs are labeled as aggressive breeds and most rental agencies won’t rent to prospects with these wonderful dogs. They’d never accept the wolf hybrid I’m due to get in the Spring. My Ada saved my life last year when my original wolfdog died from Leptospirosis. She squeezed her 100-pound body into that hole in my heart and kept me from losing hope.

I also need a washer and dryer hookup, and I need internet access for work. A garage would be nice, too, so my son can have a studio spot.

Those are things I need. But that’s not what my friends were asking me, was it?

What am I looking for? What do I want?

Ahhh, now we’re talking!

I want a place I can plant roots, and maybe even learn to plant actual vegetables and fruit trees; you know, things with real roots. I want to learn to can and preserve food. I have all the supplies, I just have no clue how to begin safely, but still, I envision row upon row of brightly filled jars lining a pantry or basement shelf. Then during the zombie apocalypse, I won’t starve. Of course, if I became a zombie, I won’t starve, either. I’ll have to think more about that at another time.

I envision myself sitting outside watching the dog play, as I sip my morning coffee and read or write.

I would love a master bath with a soaker tub (my last 2 houses had only showers). To soak in water would be life-changing for me. I’m an island girl. Submerging in water is almost ritualistic.

Walls are made for bookshelves, and mine would be no different. Instead of placing the books alphabetically, though, I’d arrange them by author and themes. Bukowski would be near the kitchen, so I can read snippets while cooking. King would be by the fireplace to keep the mood good and eerie on cold Pacific Northwest nights. Classic sci-fi, like Heinlein, Bradbury, Asimov, and Zelanzy would be by the door because those old treasures are best read under a gnarled tree. Atwood and Carey would live in my bedroom to help promote creative dreams and give inspiration.

Those walls left un-shelved would hold pictures of my kids, grandkids, and my son’s art. Sounds pretty perfect to me.

Speaking of perfect, if I’m going to “put it out there”, why not go for the whole enchilada? I want to find a converted barn on some land, with an open downstairs and bedroom loft. I’d have a deck built off that little window where the hay used to be hoisted up. On this land, my kids could build their own homes, but with a lot of spacing in between.

I wouldn’t have neighbors right outside my window. My artist son would have a hobbit hole nearby. In this perfect world, this magical place is a rent-to-own or some other non-orthodox arrangement –- owner carries the loan or something. Honestly, I know exactly jack about real estate. I just know this place would be a place I could live in for the rest of my life and eventually be buried on. “Nana’s under that willow tree on the corner of the property. Go say hello.”

I work from home (teaching driver’s education), but I’m learning how to blog and podcast, hoping to find a large audience for my niche. Fingers crossed! This magical place would be quiet, so I could record outside when the weather is nice.

Of course, if this were a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to depend on a landlord or find new housing last minute. I’d have been able to build this reality for myself long ago. But this is meant to be a positive post, so again, we’ll save that and politics for another rant.

So, now it’s out in the universe. Let’s see what she can do.