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Tiny Retrospective 2013

1/5/2014

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Sunday, 8:30 a.m.  It’s 30⁰ outside the tiny house.  A vista of chandeliers hung from grass, garden remnants and chicken wire armatures.  I grab my camera, stuff myself into coat and boots and head out to forage for texture and composition. 
By 10:55 (34⁰), the sun has reduced much of the crystal to water, save the shadow of my tiny house, which remains frozen to the ground, along with my water line.  Seems I was so absorbed at my workbench last night that I neglected to note the hour and falling temps in time for proactive measures.  The matter is already in the process of resolving itself in plenty of time for my shower.  More importantly...

Happy New Year, everyone!  Wow, 2013 was action-PACKED!  Huge gratitude to the many, who have traveled with and encouraged me thus far.  I am awed, humbled and honored by your company.   I am also, admittedly, late on posting year-in-review pics, although some of you may have previewed the nature/seasonal version in my recent TinyHomes.com post, Book of Days: Tiny in Context.  Here’s the nitty-gritty supplemental, including tiny home-improvements and adventures abroad. Many of the photos below contain links, so be sure to hover your cursor freely for more info, and if you like what you see, stay tuned. We’re just getting started.

See you soon!
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Tiny Art House Percolating

9/30/2013

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At 5:00 in the morning over the tiny house, the nightlong wind has nearly cleared the sky, save a thin veil caught on a sliver of moon.  By 6:30, new clouds convene, puff their chests, huff and dicker over the best shade of wet for the day.  Typical Northwest resident, I had already pretty much forgotten the sun’s recent (was it?) visit, as soon as impending autumn dampened my doorstep trailing its cool company of rain.  In some ways, it’s a relief not to be rent between the sun’s laissez-faire seduction and the hole-up, hunker-down inner workings which require regular attendance and, at times, readjustment of expectation and priority.  So, let’s begin with that loudest of inner workings—my stomach. 


Unfailingly, on the first fall-ishly chill day, I am seized by acute hankerings for meat and/or great, redolently steamy pots of soup.  Happily, I was able to indulge both last week with a slow-burn batch of Chipotle Sweet Potato Black Bean Soup rustled up in my tiny kitchen.  The recipe was originally conceived in the grocery aisle when I grabbed the pureed sweet potatoes next to the intended pumpkin.   Not being a part of my standard repertoire at the time, the sweet potatoes lingered in my cupboard for over a year, until through luck of the draw, on an evening particularly open to possibility, it ended up next to the corn, black beans and diced tomatoes on my shelf—a culinary Scrabble moment!  The cans were played.  A new soup was born.  Check out my Vittles page to try a bowl.  For the Veggie-tarians among you, the recipe can be easily and, dare I say, as tastily amended to suit.  Bon appétit!  I ladled up a bowl for myself and pondered my present situation.
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Chipotle Sweet Potato Soup with Chicken
The initial buzz around the tiny house sale has subsided to a low frequency hum.  Amid nibbles and marketing maintenance and tweaks, things are percolating behind the scenes.  While I wait for the big bite, for sanity's sake, I’ve begun to imagine life after the tiny sale.  In the midst of tiny workshops (see It's Big, posted 1/19/2013 and Tiny Houses in the Big World, posted 4/27/2013) and the subsequent epiphany to sell and migrate (see Oh Shift! Here We Go Again…, posted 08/05/2013), Portland rose like a panacea out of the mists of a long mental fog.  What that will look like in reality, I don’t know.  Of course, it would blow my mind to land a job helping build tiny houses.  That is unlikely.  Maybe I could work for a green builder.  Maybe I should take a pre-apprenticeship with Oregon Tradeswomen first...  Of course, I haven’t ruled out working for myself, though I plan to leave the housecleaning business behind when I go.  Honestly, I feel adrift, in spite of my continuing drive to move south (cartographically speaking). Even after having consciously leapt off the corporate ladder, when it comes to imagining work/career possibilities, my brain sweeps all the 'toys' of my creative pursuit into the nearest closet, mashes the door shut, then proceeds with the "what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up?" interrogation.  sigh...  Old habits die hard.  Time for a new one!  I paused to consider my resources, then headed for the present manifestation of my mind 'closet', the chicken coup.
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Moments later I returned to the tiny house armed with torch, striker, saw, hammers, files, pliers, copper, brass, silver and gold, stones, beads, baubles and scrap.  I spent a day connecting torch to tanks, arranging my tiny workbench, mixing pickle solution, hanging my Foredom.  Procrastinated the next afternoon away in creative apprehension.  Spent another fondling pieces and parts of half-finished projects and possibilities.  I consulted my copy of Tim McCreight’s Complete Metalsmith to review the section on basic soldering and mull over my last hang-up, nervous and frustrated at my lack of perseverance toward proficiency…  Then again, I’m not dead yet, and I’m back at it.  In the three years since I had last wielded my torch, I had finished and furnished a tiny house in my longest sustained creative endeavor to date, stops and starts notwithstanding.  Finally, the house awaits a buyer.  Portland is on the horizon.  I picked up the striker, lit my torch, adjusted the flame to a soft, blue hiss.  At any given point, there are multiple choices available and tools at one’s disposal.  I move the flame in a circle around a funky, handmade pushpin, once abandoned in frustration, heating it slowly, evenly before the deft flow of solder and attending rush of satisfaction.  I’ve come this far.  I'll work it out in my own way.

See you soon!

Tiny Art/Writing Studio, Hangout, Office, Refuge, House for Sale

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Tiny Houses in the Big World

4/27/2013

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It’s 6:30 a.m. in the tiny house.  A cloudy morning back in the garden after last weekend’s FABulous Portland Alternative Dwellings (PAD) Casa Pequeña workshop (more on that momentarily).  Showers are in today’s forecast: perfect for hunker-down writing, although opening day of the Bayview Farmers Market tugs at my hemline like an exuberant child.  I live in a garden.  Still, the market is one of my favorite Saturday morning social rituals it calibrates me to local community and more seasonal eating habits, since there is always some alluring new ‘carrot’ dangling just beyond my latest radish, pea vine or garlic scape fixation.  Don’t get me started on berry season or the local goat cheese, jams, breads... (Watch the Vittles page for seasonal recipes as they sprout.)

Meanwhile back home sweet home, I’ve finished off a scramble of farm-fresh eggs and young radish greens with a cup of yerba mate, contemplating the details of last weekend’s trip to McMinnville, OR.  Where to begin…?  If I could pick one word to encapsulate the weekend, it would be overwhelming in the best possible way.  Wait, that was several words...  Permit me to elaborate.

My last post summarized my take on PAD’s role in the tiny house family (see Roaming and Roots posted 4/13/2013).  Where the January Tumbleweed workshop (See It's Big, posted 1/19/2013) stoked our imaginations with two days of Dee Williams’ inspiring presentations.  La Casa
Pequeña, however, is where the substantive rubber under the tiny house-on-wheels hits the road, (to abuse yet another cliché).  This time, the inimitable Dee Williams representing PAD teamed with the tremendous trio of Derin, Andra and DK Williams of Shelter Wise as well as the petite powerhouse, Lina Menard, of Niche Consulting (see Lina's blog This is the Little Life for more on Lina and La Casa Pequeña) for two days of hands-on power tool tutorials, trailer connection, framing, wall-raising, house-wrapping, window installation and good, clean, irreverent fun.  Derin was our fearless leader in explaining and directing the assembly of La Casa. 



From round-circle introductions through two full days of action integrated with periodic wellness breaks, stretches (implementing DK’s and Dee’s stylistically monikered tighty-whitey stretch), group reflection and the great chicken tractor race (part of the larger Casa Verde green festival weekend), our group hailing from California to Utah and Vancouver, Canada, of varied age and experience coalesced.  Teacher/learner roles shifted between male and female, younger and older, the petite-framed and the broad-shouldered.  Everyone had something to contribute and something to learn all held in the effortlessly (so it seemed) egalitarian container. By the time the weekend wrapped, I felt I had known my fellows for years and found myself disoriented by struggling to remember a name or two of people I’d met only the day before.


Saturday night, fellow participant, Tia, and I had a slumber party in Gina’s tiny house in Portland—cozily tucked into Joan (Dee’s PAD partner) and Rita’s backyard near the Hawthorne district (see video for the house-moving).  What a treat to sample another tiny layout in the company of a new friend.  Suffice it to say that a thorough description would require a post of its own.  For now, see the video and my slide show of tiny pics. (Contact Joan Grimm to rent the tiny house, yourself.)









All too soon, Tia’s rideshare arrived at 7:00.  As luck would have it her driver, Becca, had an interest in tiny houses and so was provided a sneak peek before our fond farewell.  I, myself, lingered at the tiny house for a bit longer before wandering out to the Hawthorne Street Café for mirzaghessemi, a mouth-watering Persian eggplant, tomato and egg dish.

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Confession: at risk of sounding like a total sap, I was surprised by tears of gratitude in my eyes as I crossed the bridge out of Portland.  More than a building workshop, the experience of working within a diverse and warmly egalitarian group toward long-term, sustainable ends provided a glimpse of something toward which I had yearned without words to articulate through meandering careers in jewelry repair, higher education admin, legal support, odd jobs and housecleaning.  The tiny house movement opens another doorway into homeownership formerly obscured by the oversized couch of the 30-year mortgage upon which many have collapsed before the large screen TV of the 40+ hour work week and job insecurity.  The active process of building with community, the carving of a place for the new paradigm of ‘life-sized’ homes out of the codes and consciousness of the larger system was, for me, another 'homecoming'.  Lasting change will take time, sustained effort, self-empowerment and the empowerment of others.  With each connection made, every builder born and nurtured, every wee house raised, the community grows and gains strength.  The larger culture takes notice, maybe yearns toward the little ‘playhouses’ visible through the cracks in the dominant paradigm.  In ways we have, perhaps, yet to imagine—to share, to work, to live--together, we are headed home sweet home.

Until next time, I leave you with the jovial words of the Persian proprietor of my breakfast at Portland's Hawthorne Street Cafe, "I love you. Great to have you. I love you. See you later".


Heartfelt thanks to Derin, DK, Andra, Dee, Kimber, Lina, Nance, Craig, Tony, Tia, Sirene, Kimberly and Joan for rockin' my tiny world.
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    Angela Ramseyer is an artist, poet, writer, tanguera and  neophyte guitar player, recently relocated from Whidbey Island, WA to Portland, OR.

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