wagonhousemi
Member
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2017
- Messages
- 6
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Back story on the Wagon House and me:
It came to me in a dream in 2009. I was 24 years old. My dad had just died and I had just left a bad boyfriend. My life made no sense and I was dreaming about running away with Renaissance Festival, which had been my original ambition since I was 16. And one night I dreamed about a little fairy tale cottage mounted in a pick up truck, complete with ginger bread swirly details and stained glass windows. I called up of my Ren Fest traveling friends, who confirmed that it was a real thing, and he had seen custom campers like that in his travels. Some people called them "Vardos" after the traditional horse drawn wagons of the Romani people. Other people called them sheep wagons.
I found the blue prints in 2011. I found a builder in 2012. I went on the road for 6 months in 2013 with my (at the time) partner, camping in KOAs and driveways, giving away free pie in 30 cities along the way. But much as I wanted to keep traveling, it wasn't sustainable for either of us. We came home, got jobs, got married ... got divorced.
I've had a hell of a year. I was homeless and out of my mind for a good bit there. With the help of some friends, I started rebuilding. I left one state for another, moved in with a friend of a decade, fell in love (to my eternal surprise) and started to believe in our future. We were outrageously happy. He taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow. I was helping him restore his run down Victorian mad scientist house. We watched Orphan Black and Babylon 5 and drank champagne. We were growing mint in a bizarre home made fish tank powered green house. He made me breakfast in bed.
And then he died, in a horrible stupid accident, and I lost everything. Again. 125 days ago, I became a widow at the age of 32.
So I came home to Michigan. My Wagon House had been put into storage, but I had mended some bridges with my family, and I got it back. Friends are letting my camp in their yard while I make improvements and get a vehicle capable of towing it. Something with a V8 and at least a 5.3L engine.
I'm super grateful to past me, for having the foresight to have the Wagon House built. I always joked that it was a house that couldn't be repossessed. It came to me in a dream when I was mourning the death of my father, and it's become my refuge and shelter now that I'm mourning the death of my partner.
My plan is ... fluid. I'm going to Ohio in October. I have a lot of friends I'd like to visit. Maybe even Renaissance Festival, after all these years. It's still there.
Today's pic is the closet rod my host helped install lengthwise in the Wagon House. As long as I keep parking so that side of the house faces east, it will help block that rude sunrise that wakes me up a good 2 hours before I actually want to be awake each day. Thanks for reading, stay tuned.
It came to me in a dream in 2009. I was 24 years old. My dad had just died and I had just left a bad boyfriend. My life made no sense and I was dreaming about running away with Renaissance Festival, which had been my original ambition since I was 16. And one night I dreamed about a little fairy tale cottage mounted in a pick up truck, complete with ginger bread swirly details and stained glass windows. I called up of my Ren Fest traveling friends, who confirmed that it was a real thing, and he had seen custom campers like that in his travels. Some people called them "Vardos" after the traditional horse drawn wagons of the Romani people. Other people called them sheep wagons.
I found the blue prints in 2011. I found a builder in 2012. I went on the road for 6 months in 2013 with my (at the time) partner, camping in KOAs and driveways, giving away free pie in 30 cities along the way. But much as I wanted to keep traveling, it wasn't sustainable for either of us. We came home, got jobs, got married ... got divorced.
I've had a hell of a year. I was homeless and out of my mind for a good bit there. With the help of some friends, I started rebuilding. I left one state for another, moved in with a friend of a decade, fell in love (to my eternal surprise) and started to believe in our future. We were outrageously happy. He taught me how to shoot a bow and arrow. I was helping him restore his run down Victorian mad scientist house. We watched Orphan Black and Babylon 5 and drank champagne. We were growing mint in a bizarre home made fish tank powered green house. He made me breakfast in bed.
And then he died, in a horrible stupid accident, and I lost everything. Again. 125 days ago, I became a widow at the age of 32.
So I came home to Michigan. My Wagon House had been put into storage, but I had mended some bridges with my family, and I got it back. Friends are letting my camp in their yard while I make improvements and get a vehicle capable of towing it. Something with a V8 and at least a 5.3L engine.
I'm super grateful to past me, for having the foresight to have the Wagon House built. I always joked that it was a house that couldn't be repossessed. It came to me in a dream when I was mourning the death of my father, and it's become my refuge and shelter now that I'm mourning the death of my partner.
My plan is ... fluid. I'm going to Ohio in October. I have a lot of friends I'd like to visit. Maybe even Renaissance Festival, after all these years. It's still there.
Today's pic is the closet rod my host helped install lengthwise in the Wagon House. As long as I keep parking so that side of the house faces east, it will help block that rude sunrise that wakes me up a good 2 hours before I actually want to be awake each day. Thanks for reading, stay tuned.
