Use(less?)(ful?) information abounds

The other day my mom and I were sitting side by side on the couch, each with our own computer in our lap, pinning. I know, real quality time. I chortled and showed her a pin that popped up on my page: how to chop up a cauliflower. Her response: who goes to the effort to take photos and write a blog post on how to chop up a cauliflower? Just get out your knife and start chopping!

That got me to thinking about how much totally useless information abounds on the internet. We're filling our heads with junk. Factoids, fake factoids, rumors, urban legends, inconsequential stuff. We over-parent, over-share, over-think. Yet, at the same time... how exactly do I chop up a cauliflower? How do I shred cabbage without a food processor? I'd better do a quick check online before I make the same coleslaw that I've made for years, because maybe someone has a better way.

And maybe someone does have a better way. That's when the internet gets good. Push past all the crap, all the distractions, and we get something amazing: information and community. Real, actual, legitimate information abounds on the internet, and the community that writes it, reads it, and shares it is awesome.

I read a lot of blogs and I often think about how well documented our world is now. We take thousands of pictures of our kids, teenagers take thousands of themselves, and how many cute cat videos are there online? We're constantly snapping away and sharing the big and little details of our lives. What will this look like in 100 years? Will we look at them in 100 years? Will we still be documenting in 100 years? Here's an opinion piece where the author asks us to stop using the internet. Heck no!

But here's the thing, no matter uselessness of all the information out there, I love my online communities. I'm in a local mom's group where we trade info on daycares and pediatricians; I'm in a global mom's group where we find and give support and advice; I'm in group for women sailors where we can ask boating questions and give advice in a judgment-free zone (turns out that the sailing world is pretty macho and there are a lot of know-it-alls out there); I'm in a sewing on boats group where we share our projects and get ideas about, yes, sewing for our boats. Etc.

The world is wide open and the internet gives us the space to find people with common interests and share and learn from each other. So, yeah, there is a whole bunch of crap online. And, yeah, I spend way too much time reading the junk when I could be reading an actual book (although I try my hardest to stay away from those online quizzes). But my love affair with the internet is wide and deep and I am not embarrassed about the amount of time I spend tapping away on Facebook and other websites. I love my online community!

(Although I'd be negligent to forget to add that the internet is a fabulous vehicle for my own procrastination.)

image courtesy of ChurchMag

Breaking out of the mold

Compelling street art from Philadelphia
image courtesy of The Foundist.com

I think it can be safely said that I've never really fit into any mold. Quitting a lucrative and challenging career to live as a sailing bum in the Caribbean, living on a boat, raising kids on a boat, no 401k or life insurance to speak of - I've done it a little differently than my peers.

Yet, at the same time, it's so similar. My husband works full-time, I stay at home with the girls. We have kids. We go grocery shopping. Two cars. Bedtime at 7:30 (for the kids, not us!...although, some evenings...). On a day to day basis, my life veers more toward the hum drum than the unconventional lifestyle that it looks on the surface.


In brief
I want: an unconventional, nontraditional, exciting, adventurous, travel-filled, challenging life that pushes me out of my comfort zone and gives us lots of family time.
I currently have: a pretty staid suburban life. (Albeit aboard a boat, but, still. The boat doesn't go anywhere.)
What we're working toward: a nomadic life, based on family time and free time. 

To further complicate, I was raised and schooled to be a feminist. I struggle on a daily basis against this 1950s lifestyle that we've created for our kids. If I lived in a bubble, in a vacuum, where I wasn't influenced by societal norms and expectations, I'd be totally fine to sit back and say: this is what's working for our family, right now. It will change, it will evolve, but, right now, it's working for us.

But we don't live in a bubble. And I know our kids are happy and living a good life, and, generally, I'm happy and living a good life. But then I come across a study that says that kids of working moms are more successful later in life; that kids that are raised in families where household work is split evenly are more likely to be engaged fathers and men (moot point, I guess, for us since we have two girls, but, still).

The pressure
So I sit here, knowing that, like it has been for the past six years, our current set-up is transitory. We'll be doing something different, and then doing something different again. So I settle in to today, knowing that today is good. I'm looking big picture. Think 5-10 years big picture...then I get excited. The minute I can release myself from the pressures of the mold; once I know that, yes, I will be able to break out of that mold, my mind is at ease and I am so excited for that future to come.

It's amazing to me how much influence our peers and society has on our fundamental beliefs. I feel like I am pretty strong and certain in how I feel and what I am doing, but, yikes, the minute I get too settled in our (floating) suburban lifestyle, I start freaking out. Must set goals, must make plans, must do more. 

The pressure to do more; the pressure to compete; the pressure to measure up and reach certain goals = it's not just adolescents that feel peer pressure.

I read a great article by Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love and Committed to name two of her books), that urged women to just "lighten up." You're good enough, you're doing enough, just chill out and enjoy life. I really struggle with that and I can spin myself in circles and wrap myself up in endless arguments about what I want to be doing, what I am doing, what I should be doing. When, really, I should just lighten up.

Sunrise, at anchor off Amelia Island.

(And the truth that I know: when I am out on the water, on a sailboat. I am happy. Satisfied. Content. Fulfilled Some fundamentals never change. I've known it for 12 years: all I need is a sailboat.)

Living in a tiny space

This article appeared in my Facebook newsfeed yesterday:

Dear People who live in tiny houses

In a witty, tongue in cheek kind of way, the author asks a slew of semi-rhetorical questions to tiny house dwellers. She adds a footnote stating that while the article is half in jest, she truly does wonder "if it’s all peaches and cream like the swanky design magazines suggest." 

I get asked similar questions all the time:
What about guests?
What about privacy?
What about laundry?

I thought I'd take a few minutes to answer her questions.

Since we've made a commitment/plan to continue living aboard for another two years (which will bring our total time as liveaboards to over ten years), I've been thinking a lot recently about why I like living aboard and why it works for us. I watched an episode of House Hunters on Netflix/HGTV last night and the featured couple were on the market for a new home because their two bedroom condo was just too small for them and their toddler. Yet we live, happily, on a boat with two adults and two kids. So why does it work for us and other people need more space?

Is there something fundamentally different about us that makes this small lifestyle possible? Is it because I live in a permanent state of wanderlust and living on a boat gives me the illusion of travel? Is it because we can't commit to one place? Are we gluttons for punishment? Are we too lazy to change?

No, yes, yes, no, no.

But I have come up with my ultimate answer:

We liveaboard because it works for us. Financially and in a lifestyle kind of way. It forces us to be minimalists, to not consume. It kicks us outside where the kids have space to run and we can meet other people (build community). It encourages us to be conscious about what we eat because we have little storage space for food.

But the answer: because it works for us, still leaves people wondering: could I ever live on a boat, in that tiny space? No way, I have way too much stuff. How do you cook? What about laundry? The bathroom is smaller than a closet.

So the follow-up answer, to anyone wondering: Could I do it?, is: Yes! Anyone can live on a boat. But what you can't do is transfer your land-based life to a liveaboard life or a tiny home. They are fundamentally different and can't be swapped out 1 for 1. 

Hans and I knew we wanted to move on a boat when we were in college. We never created the landlubbing lifestyle for ourselves. Yes, we lived in apartments for four years but we never bought nice stuff. When we moved aboard our sailboat we had a yard sale and then donated the rest to Goodwill. We've never gotten used to using a dishwasher or having a washing machine in our living space. We've gotten very good at getting rid of extra stuff that creeps onto the boat and we generally don't spend a lot of time (or money) shopping for stuff.

I have significantly less clothes than other women I know, less dishes, fewer books, the kids have fewer toys, etc. etc. We have less stuff. And sometimes that is hard. I don't want stuff per se, but it would be nice to not be so limited. And don't get me started on having to lug my laundry to the marina 2 times a week. But then I move on. I watch the sunset or swim in the marina pool and I move on. Because I've chosen this life and the benefits far outweigh the inconveniences and the "gee it would be nice if..."

Yes, it is a totally different lifestyle, but I don't think that we are unique individuals, per se. We've just organized our lives a little differently than dirt dwellers and it makes boat living easy(ish).

Choosing a liveaboard lifestyle over a landlubbing lifestyle would just require an acknowledgement of the differences and knowing that life will be different. In good ways and bad ways. Just like a landlubber could come on board and have difficulty with our never-perfect, a little stinky at times, finicky toilets, I walk into a house and think: it would take me forever to clean this place! 

It's different, that's all. Choosing a liveaboard lifestyle would require a mind shift and the understanding that the systems are different (sometimes easier, sometimes harder), but, at the end of the day, my life is rather similar to my peers.

We have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, an eat-in kitchen, a living room with TV, a shower, hot water (!), a outside area, heat and air conditioning, and internet. And we have a dinghy and we can watch the sunrise and sunset every day!

With impeccable timing, my friend Charlotte posted this illustration on her blog recently. The illustration, by Sarah Steenland, is a fellow liveaboard, cruiser, boat mom. Her sense of humor is awesome and she so perfectly captures why we liveaboard:

And the reasons why not? 100% spot on:

Back to the original article that (finally) got me writing again (at least on my blog, I've been doing a lot of tapping away on the keyboard, just not publishing it).



Ms. Modery, 
I hear your questions. I get them. I understand them. And I appreciate your sense of humor too. It's not always pretty (we currently have the pieces of a 48 piece jigsaw puzzle scattered over the floor of the main cabin and I stepped on a Lego in the middle of the night and I'm dreading lugging the big blue Ikea bag up to the marina laundry this afternoon), but, quite often, it's so pretty that it's worth it. Cramped space, lack of privacy, and all.
Sincerely,
Kristen

6 ways to get out of a rut (none of which involve a tow truck)

It's mud season in my home state of Vermont, and the term getting out of rut is taken pretty literally right now. Especially after this winter.

image courtesy of www.subaruoutback.org

 To most people, however, that rut isn't a muddy dirt road, it's the feeling we get when life gets boring. "Same ol', same ol'," "Daily grind," etc. It happens to the best of us. (Well I can't speak for the whole world, but I'd say it happens to all of us.) How do we get out of the rut? What do we do when life is boring? When it's the same thing day in and day out?

1. Start a gratitude journal. Or, if that is too touchy-feely for you, every night before you turn the light out, jot down on a scrap of paper three good things that happened. The idea is to make an effort to recognize the good things that are happening in life, even if life doesn't feel so great.
2. Take one thing that you do every day and do it differently, perhaps even better. The easiest way for me to make my day a little better is through food. I cook a special dinner, bake a loaf of bread, or make a dessert. It makes a regular Tuesday a little more interesting.
3. Get some loving. From a simple hug to something a little more x-rated. Get some love into your life. Human touch has proven health benefits like releasing oxytocin and dopamine.
4. Move! But make it fun. If you love the gym and it makes you happy, go there. But if "working out" is a chore, do something different. Put on some music and dance. Go for a bike ride. Find a kid and play tag. Find a dog and toss the frisbee with it. A little bit of exercise and movement and, most importantly, play will lift spirits.
   

   

   I don't know what this "sport" is called, but these adults were having a blast playing on a Saturday afternoon.

5. Be spontaneous. Instead of driving straight home from work or from picking the kids up at school, go somewhere. Go out for pizza. Stop at the deli and pick up sandwiches and have an impromptu picnic dinner. Call a friend you haven't seen for weeks, or days, and meet for a drink or a walk.

   

   An impromptu trip to a beachside hotel let this boat kid jump on the bed. Something she's only had the chance to do a few times in her life and which she thoroughly loved. The joy that resulted from our spontaneity!

6. Think of a more sustaining way to keep from slipping into "same ol', same ol'." Brainstorm a list of things you like to do, or things you wish you could do more often and make an effort to do them. (Practical things. I love snorkeling over coral reefs, but since I don't live near any crystal clear, tropical water, that's not possible. I'll keep that off the list.) 

I feel like getting stuck in a rut is such an easy thing to do. We go through the daily motions of life - doing what is necessary (eating, working, cleaning, sleeping) and what is easy (Facebook, TV) and we forget to take a break from the necessary and the easy to do what we like. There is a little effort involved, but by acknowledging that the rut exists, and that, yes, life can be boring sometimes, will help you get out of that rut, wipe the mud off, and start making daily and weekly life more interesting, more fun, and more inspiring.

small living challenges

Years and years ago, before I even considered living on a boat, I read about Jay Shafer's Tumbleweed Houses. His houses are extreme. The initial concept used a flatbed trailer as their foundation and built up from there - a tiny living room, kitchen, with a loft sleeping area. The toilet was of the composting variety and they look more like elaborate RVs than permanent homes. But the market was there and since I first started checking out Tumbleweed Homes, the movement has exploded.

Then I moved onto a 27' sailboat - a closet compared to a "tiny house."

And now we've moved up in the world, onto a 36' powerboat with an aft cabin. Two bedrooms! Two bathrooms! A back deck! We're living large!

Yet...it's still tiny for 2 adults and 2 growing children. When we first moved to our current marina we thought we'd put the boat up for sale and buy or rent a house. But, nearly one year later, we're still here. Floating through life. There are so many compelling reasons to keep us living aboard in our tiny space. But there are also so many challenges.

What makes it hard?

• We constantly struggle with too much stuff. Too much stuff for us means...an extra throw pillow or blanket on the couch. A new toy. A stack of magazines. In a house these extra things could just get pushed aside into a hidden corner, but on the boat everything is front and center. We have to be conscious all the time of what we buy or are given - we only bring things onto the boat that we have thoughtfully considered and already found a place for. Which means no yard sales or flea markets or thrift stores.
• Tidiness. For peace of mind, it is imperative that we keep the boat tidy. The space is just too small to have cluttered shelves or piles of things on the floor. Since we use all our floor space, and every shelf space is visible, everything needs to be put away, or at least relatively tidy. So picking up, tidying, putting away happens a lot. And this is a foreign concept to me. I've always been VERY messy.
• Everything is micro. The sink. The bathtub. The closet. We can't take a bath in the "bathtub" because it is just too small. It's perfect for the girls, but no dice for us. And try washing dishes in a toy-sized sink. It's a challenge. 

  

  me and a regular sized mug, to try to show the relative size of the sink

• The lack of privacy. I do not exaggerate when I say that the only place I can get any privacy is in the bathroom. I'm sure that's true for most parents, but the bathroom is the only place I can shut the door and be alone. It's about 2' x 3'. And I can still hear every single noise on the boat while I'm having some alone time.
• Sound carries. When the girls nap, all activity on the boat stops. They are very good sleepers, but their v-berth bedroom is only separated from the main cabin by a thin door. They're not upstairs or down the hall. I can't vacuum, wash dishes, or clean the outside of the boat while they're sleeping. Darn. I have to nap or read a book.
• Food storage. This is a hard one. Our fridge is an apartment-sized fridge which is fine in the cooler months, but in the summer when it is HOT outside and in, I have to keep everything in the fridge. All fruit, veggies, bread, etc. And since we eat all our meals at home and we eat a lot of whole foods and produce, we have to go shopping a couple times a week. A gallon of milk takes up a large portion of the fridge and we go through one every 3-4 days. 

  

  that's the fridge on the left. This is an old picture...on the right we now have a 4 burner propane stove top and a small convection oven (which landlubbers would call a toaster oven!) above that.

• Laundry. Yeah. That's up at the marina. Which means I can't do laundry when the girls are napping or after they've gone to bed at night because I can't leave them alone on the boat. I can't throw a load of laundry in the wash and switch it to the dryer when I get around to it, because it's basically a laundromat. I'm sharing with my neighbors so I need to be punctual.
• Temperature control. We basically live in a greenhouse. That's fantastic in the winter, but it gets very hot in the summer. We don't have any big shade trees covering the boat so we live under full sun every day. We do, on the other hand, get great breezes off the water, so that helps. But in the dead of the summer when the a/c is jacked up, it's still 80-85 degrees inside. 

So, with all these challenges, why do we stay aboard? Here are a few reasons:

• the other day at the park, Freja (age 4) correctly pointed out barnacles to her friend who had no idea what she was talking about. 
• Freja doesn't know her left from her right, but she's getting consistently better at identifying port and starboard
• we have a couple crab pots hanging off our dock and we get a few crabs a week. not enough for a meal, but a tasty appetizer.
• We're outdoors almost more often than we're inside.
• We have great neighbors that we see and socialize with on a near daily basis
• We own our boat. The marina pays for water, trash, recycling, internet, laundry. Our bills are low.
• We don't have a lot of stuff.
• We've lived on this boat for almost 6 years...(knock on wood) almost everything works and *currently* our maintenance is low. When Hans has a day off, we can do something fun. No grass to mow, no hedges to prune, no walls to paint.

And this:

Island Time video

Here's a fun promo video I made for my book:

Enjoy!

Basking in the sun

A blustery day at the beach.

There was a flurry of activity and then it stopped. I haven't been writing recently and I've stopped obsessively checking my book sale stats on Amazon and Create Space. I guess I'm following my own advice. I'm starting to live more in the here and now, in the actual real present. Instead of writing about what I'm doing and researching things to do on Pinterest, I'm just doing stuff. It helps that the weather is awesome and I'm outside for hours every day. When it's in the upper 70s and low 80s every day and not too humid, it's hard to stay inside and sit in front of the computer.

We took a day trip to Savannah, GA and enjoyed the gorgeous spring flowers.

Instead I'm working on boat projects like renewing the varnish, brainstorming a massive canvas job, and scrubbing the pollen off the decks. We're going to the playground and the pool; and the girls are learning to ride their balance bikes. Best of all, our dock neighbors are doing the same and our end of the marina has become quite a social place.



I've let go of my need (assumed or real) to write every day and I'm enjoying the spring weather and my time with my girls. I have 101 different things to write about but, for now, my writing is seasonal in nature. I'm sure that I'm just out of practice and I'd truly enjoy sitting down every day and typing at my computer, but, honestly, it's pretty nice to read a book on the back deck or do something productive on the boat. It's just too nice outside! I've gotten my book off my computer and out into the real world, I've assessed my options for my life (work full-time in an office or stay at home with the girls) and I've realized that the status quo is rather good.

So for now I'm giving myself a sabbatical from writing and I'm enjoying each day as it comes. This is entirely new for me as I'm always looking toward the horizon and the next harbor, so we'll see how long it lasts.