Archive for July 15th, 2018

Camper Flip

Jul
15


This is a project we’ve just started! We’re remodeling this 1984 Scotty camper–with an eye to flipping it, but in case we don’t sell it, we’re also remodeling it with an eye to using it, so we’re restoring it in a way that we would love if we were doing it just for ourselves. We’re redoing practically everything, from new tires to new benches and upholstery and ceilings and floors and walls. I’ll post our progress with photos! The Scotty is one of the classic “canned ham” vintage campers, and we’re having so much fun bringing this one back to life!

Vintage campers, they’re a thing. Did you know that? I didn’t, until I started researching and discovered that while great big luxury RVs will always be in style (for those who can afford it), genuine retro campers, with their classic charm, efficiency, and environmental economy (with ease of pulling even by a small car) are a thing. Vintage camper meets tiny house craze. We just happen to have a vintage 13 foot “tiny house” camper on our hands, so here we go!

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink  

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My Cow

Jul
15

I haven’t written a post in all this time because I’ve been stymied, blockaded, unable. I wanted to write posts, lots of different posts, but I couldn’t. Because of Glory Bee. I’m going to try, like really try, but it’s so hard. Because every time I even think about writing it, I burst into tears.

Let’s try all dry and reporter-like.

Dateline: Somewhere in the boonies.
Cow falls down ravine and breaks neck. Farmer could not be reached for comment due to utter despair.

This is freaking ridiculous. A person should not be this distraught over a cow! AND YET.

She was buried at the top of a hay meadow, and thank God I have her last heifer, Belle, who will be bred to the Jersey bull in due time. You know the saying, when you have livestock, you have deadstock. I’ve been through that adage plenty of times over the years, because it’s unfortunately true. And yet Glory Bee’s crazy accident really hit me hard. But maybe now I can at least move on and write other posts. I just couldn’t bring myself to write this one for so long, and couldn’t write anything else until I did. It’s short because– I still can’t write it without bursting into tears. I just needed to get it over with. She deserves a better obituary, but I can’t do it.

Man, I loved that cow.

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....






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