Tiny living secrets

Here's my cozy writing/reading/daydreaming spot: our little couch topped
 with a beautiful quilt made by my dear friend, Kathleen Brown.
Out this window is an amazing view of the Elkhorn Mountains and the lake.

Sitting on the diminutive couch in our tiny living room, my stocking feet are curled against an electric heater. My fingers, also seeking warmth, are wrapped around my coffee mug. I’m wearing three layers of clothing, including an old cashmere sweater and a thick flannel shirt lined with fleece. We've had weeks of sub-freezing weather, and even sub-zero weather. After six months of living tiny in the Eastern Oregon high desert, my body is still adjusting to the colder temperatures.

Four years ago, after some unsuccessful and mostly depressing attempts at online dating, I’d sworn off men and any hope of a romantic relationship. Instead, I concentrated on becoming an adventurous, joyful woman. But then—so very unexpectedly—I fell in love with an adventure-seeking Mountain Man who lived 300 miles away. Tired of cultivating our long-distance relationship, we decided to bridge the gap between us.


At the end of last summer, I left my newspaper reporter job and my old life in the city. Now I’m settling into my new life: living large in 323 square feet in the foothills of the Elkhorn Mountains in Eastern Oregon with the Mountain Man. 

Living in a small space fits who we are now. Both of us have owned houses requiring hefty mortgage payments and endless maintenance and yard work. We are both at the point in our lives that we don’t want to be tied down by possessions or lengthy to-do lists. We’ve decided to live simply while enjoying a bountiful life rich in experiences rather than material things.

We’re well on our way to succeeding. In the six months I’ve lived here, we’ve soaked in a hot springs, performed as the musical entertainment at Anthony Lakes Mountain Resort, hiked in the Elkhorn Mountains, had a picnic while perched on a log on the banks of an alpine lake and then did some fly fishing, paddled kayaks, danced to live music at Ten Depot in La Grande, dined at the Barley Browne’s in Baker City, visited the Oregon Trail Interpretive Center in Baker, and much more.

We’ve also spent a lot of time editing possessions and determining what's essential and what isn't. What do we really need for our comfort in our tiny space? As I write, my laptop rests on the tiny red table I found at an estate sale more than a decade ago. It takes up little floor space, but is useful for holding a laptop computer, a cup of coffee or a bowl of popcorn. In my old apartment, I had an antique desk for my laptop, but truthfully, I usually write curled up on the couch. So the little worn table with chipped red paint fits perfectly into our tiny space.

Tiny home tip: Use floor space sparingly. Use tiny furniture with multiple uses.

 

Here are some tiny kitchen tips we've gleaned after living tiny for six months. 

Tiny home tip: Size--and numbers--matter. Four mugs. When you live tiny, you must scrutinize every item you bring into the house and justify it taking up precious space. We have space for four mugs. When I painted this lace-covered leaf mug at a fun ceramic shop in Gig Harbor recently, I had to give the boot to my cracked Star Trek Jean-Luc Picard mug. But I couldn't completely give up Jean-Luc. He's in storage.

If you had cupboard space for only four mugs, which mugs would you choose?

Tiny home tip: Use smaller dessert plates rather than larger dinner plates. We use my dessert-size English Spode plates as dinner plates. They fit in the narrow cupboard better and it's harder to overeat. The larger dinner plates didn’t fit in the cupboard, so we are storing them.

Tiny home tip: Use vertical space to double the number of spices in the spice rack. We could fit only nine spice bottles in our tiny home’s built-in spice rack, so the Mountain Man took the built-in spice rack to his wood shop and built a second tier, essentially doubling the number of spices it holds without increasing its footprint on the counter. It allows us to keep our essential, every-day spices at hand. The rest we store in a box in an overhead cabinet in our living/dining/kitchen.

The Mountain Man took the spice rack to the wood shop
and doubled the vertical space.  Notice my kitchen towel
embellished by friend Rhona. Even in a tiny space, display
favorite, beautiful, useful things.

Tiny home tip: Edit your appliances to the essential. We use our hotpot daily to make coffee and tea. It's the only appliance that gets real estate on the tiny kitchen counter. I donated my bread machine and toaster and am storing our crock pot and blender. But lately, I’ve been hankering for one of my childhood comfort foods: cinnamon toast. Do I find a tiny toaster or toaster oven? If so, where would we store it when we aren't using it? Or do I forgo toast altogether?

Essential appliances:our hot pot plus microwave, propane range
and  oven and refrigerator. I can live without a dishwasher, but
I can't live without my morning coffee.

Tiny home tip: Tuck the cutting board away when not in use. To eliminate counter top clutter, the Mountain Man built a holder for our cutting board. When we aren’t using our 12 x 12 cutting board, it’s neatly tucked below a kitchen cabinet.

Tiny home tip: Hang the broom on the wall. We have no broom closet, so the Mountain Man built a wooden holder to hang a broom high on the wall near the ceiling. It’s out of the way, but easy to reach.

Tiny home tip:  Place the dish drainer over one side of the double sink. And wash dishes as you get them dirty. Even if you're just eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, wash up after yourself. Keep your tiny counters uncluttered and ready to use. We have no dishwasher, but I don't mind hand-washing dishes.

Our tiny kitchen has a double sink. We found a stainless steel
dish drainer that fits perfectly in one sink. 

 Tiny home tip: Keep clutter off kitchen counters so you have space for cooking and meal prep--even  if it's just making a simple peanut butter sandwich. 

A bigger view of our tiny kitchen. 

 Tiny home tip: Unbreakable dishes that stack are practical and help stretch your cupboard space further.

Vintage and practical: our 1950s Italian Bascal aluminum cups and
tiny bowls stack neatly in the cupboard and take up a tiny footprint
 in our tiny kitchen.  I snagged them at an estate sale years ago.

Tiny home tip: Keep your silverware drawer neat by keeping only six knives, forks and spoons. Even though tiny home drawers are--well--tiny--measure them to find silverware trays to organize your drawers. Our trays are individual plastic trays that snap together. My standard silverware tray was much too large for our new drawers.

A bare bones silverware drawer: six forks, knives and spoons. 

Tiny home tip: Extend vertical space in cupboards with rubber-coated stackable shelving.

Two narrow shelves hold most of our dishes, including
our Spode plates and Fiestaware bowls.

Tiny home tip: Consider it a treasure hunt. Find tiny items that also are beautiful and inspiring. While browsing in Bella Main Street Market, a fantastic kitchen shop in downtown Baker City, I found these lovely little bowls hand painted in Tunisia. They were on sale, and I got three for $6. These stackable bowls are perfect for sauces, yogurt, applesauce or tomato soup.They're not dishwasher safe. No problem. No dishwasher.

Tiny home tip: Where possible, incorporate whimsy--and your personality--in practical tools.

R2-D2 egg timer at the ready in an old enamel bowl above the sink.
The droid egg timer was a gift from the Mountain Man,
I also display a Millennium Falcon serving platter.

Acclimating to my large life living tiny in Eastern Oregon

It’s a balmy 37 degrees today. We’re having a heatwave in Eastern Oregon. For the first time in a couple of months, the temperature has risen above freezing. As I’ve been walking outside today, I’ve worn a flannel shirt, but decided it wasn’t cold enough to warrant a coat, hat or gloves. That’s when I realized I’ve acclimated to life in the foothills of the Elkhorn Mountains.

We live at about 3,600 feet. Where it hasn’t been plowed, our accumulated snow is thigh high. The top rails of the fences are nearly buried in snow. And yet still it comes down. The Mountain Man has spent hours plowing the long driveway with his green John Deere tractor. It’s the first week of February. The groundhog saw his shadow this week. We are guaranteed for many more weeks of winter. Locals tell me this the hardest, coldest winter they’ve had in 40 years.

Inside our tiny home—a 323 square-foot camper, the temperature has soared to a toasty 63 degrees. It’s so warm today that we don’t need to turn on the propane furnace. Instead, two radiator-type electric heaters keep the temperature comfortable.

Here are some things I’ve learned after living for five months in Eastern Oregon:

• Be prepared to drive in severe weather and really scary road conditions. I grew up on a farm in Northeastern Washington, but our roads were not as challenging as what I’ve faced on my daily commute into La Grande, 26 miles away. The freeway is often closed due to icy roads, and blowing snow that causes white-out conditions. On the way to work yesterday, I drove 35 miles per hour with my flashers on in a driving snowstorm. The snow was blowing so hard that I could barely see the road. Out here, the snowbanks drift quickly and you can get pulled into one and then you’re stuck. Yesterday after work, the freeway was closed, so I had to take the long way home through Union and Pyle’s Canyon. In some places, the snow was blowing so hard across the road that I had to stop and find the road again.
• Be prepared to be stranded in a snowstorm—and be prepared to dig myself out. The Mountain Man’s dad encouraged me to keep my gas tank full in case I get stuck in a snowbank all night and I have to keep my motor running to keep from freezing. In my Subaru Forester I keep a snow shovel, broom, long-handled ice scraper, tire chains, snow pants, heavy gloves, hat, down vest and coat in case I get pulled into a snowbank and have to dig myself out. I use the broom to sweep snow accumulation from my car in the morning. I wear my sensible, warm snow boots wherever I go. When I get to work, I change to clogs.
•  I keep emergency rations in my Subaru in case I get stuck in the snow overnight and have to wait until morning for help: granola bars, trail mix and a bottle of water. It immediately froze. I also have an LED flashlight that doesn’t use batteries, but is powered by winding it up.
• When you're driving, keep an eye out for critters that might run into the road. On my first day of work, I encountered a rancher moving cattle along the road. But more often, I encounter deer, quail, wild turkeys and other wildlife crossing the road. 
• When it was -6 degrees outside, it was getting pretty chilly inside our little camper. One brisk morning I tried to pull a fleece jacket from my closet, but it was so cold inside our house that the jacket was frozen to the closet wall. When I pulled it loose, it was covered with a layer of frost.
• For the past two months, we have kept a faucet running to prevent our water pipes from freezing. The Mountain Man also bought a heated hose and wrapped the pipes at the source in insulation.
•  To insulate our little camper we positioned a thick layer of straw bales all around the outside of our camper. And now, accumulated snow reaches up to the windows, adding another layer of insulation.
•  I am grateful to concerned family members who sent us gear to keep us warm. Doug and Tara sent us slippers and a heated throw for our tiny sofa. It’s glorious to sit underneath it, drink cocoa and watch a movie. Kalyn and Mat sent us a heated mattress pad with dual controls. I turn that baby up before climbing into bed, and I have toasty toes. Mom sent me thermal top and leggings for my birthday because she’s my mommy and she worries that I’ll freeze.
• Dress for the weather. Soft flannel shirts and down vests are a must. Keep your head covered to regulate your temperature. l ordered a beautiful handmade wool hat from my dear friend, Jean Jones, a Chewelah friend. My hat rarely leaves my head these days. Even when I’m inside.
• Sometimes when we get up in the morning, it’s 38 degrees inside. At first, it was a shock to my system, but I’m used to it now. Turning on the propane furnace quickly heats our little home to a toasty 55 degrees. And sometimes, we even heat it to 60. A cup of hot coffee and oatmeal helps heat me up on cold mornings too.
• Be prepared to be dazzled by gorgeous, sweeping landscapes, the immense starry skies and the kindness of the people.
• Learn to look for the wonder all around, and you won’t be disappointed.

Spiders and stink bugs and flies! Oh my!

 I stepped into our tiny home’s shower, turned on the water, and heard an insistent buzzing. Looking up at the skylight, I realized I was showering with about a dozen flies. Oh well. Unfazed, I continued showering. No matter how many times a day we vacuum the flies from the shower, the windows and the light fixtures, a larger number of flies descends upon us. It’s a bit like the endless armies of advancing orcs in the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. Although if orcs were lurking in our shower, I would refuse to shower and I would be stinky.

In that case, I might be as stinky as the masses of stink bugs that entered our little home a few weeks ago. My stink bug strategy is to either vacuum them up or pick them up and whisk them outside before they give off their sickly sweet stinky aroma they emit when threatened. I’m not afraid of stinkbugs, but I’m not crazy about their odor. 

When I was a girl sleeping in the upstairs of our farmhouse with my two sisters, I sometimes awoke in the night to the strong aroma of stink bug. I’d turn on the light and discover a stink bug lurking on my covers, and I’d freak out a little. I no longer freak out at the sight or smell of a stink bug. But I still don’t want them in our house.

It’s a good thing I’m not the kind of woman who is afraid of bugs. Before the stink bugs showed up, waves of wasps sought refuge from the cold in our little home. We sucked them up in the vacuum as soon as we discovered them. We also bought two fly swatters and strategically placed them at either end of the house to arm ourselves to battle with the bugs.

We've been invaded by lygus bugs!

Next, we were invaded by lygus bugs, which were unfamiliar to me. Like stink bugs, the small, winged lygus bugs give off an unpleasant smell when disturbed. These plagues of lygus bugs, flies, stink bugs, and wasps sometimes have occurred simultaneously this fall. Several times a day we sucked them up with our efficient canister vacuum or swatted them until the buzzing ceased—at least temporarily.

I'm thankful Aragog hasn't descended from our ceiling.
Illustration from Aragog: Harry Potter Wiki

Our current plague is tiny spiders that descend from the ceiling right in front of our faces. I have met people who are terrified of spiders, but I am not one of them. We recently watched the Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings films. If these tiny spiders were the size of Aragog or Shelob, I’d be alarmed. But they are simply one more annoying creature invading our small living space. When I was a girl, we sometimes discovered black widow spiders crawling in our old farmhouse. Mom trapped them in a jar so we could get a closer look and learn how to identify them. Thankfully, these dinky spiders invading our space are no threat. They are simply seeking refuge from the cold. Nonetheless, they are not welcome here.

Thankfully, I don't have to battle Shelob  as Frodo did!
Illustration from Shelob: The One Wiki to Rule Them All

As I write this in the early morning hours, the living room is dark. An insistent fly is seeking the only light source—my computer screen. He’s buzzing around my head and dive-bombing into my hair. Perhaps it’s time to get out the canister vacuum and begin the battle of the bugs in this new day.

Is living with these annoying insects worth it, you might ask. Yes, it is. Without a doubt. Even faced with plagues of flies, spiders, stink bugs, and wasps, life is very good. I’m waking up to views of fresh snow on the Elkhorn Mountains. At night I watch the stars splattered across the big, big sky. Most of all, I’m sharing my new life with the Mountain Man. We’re hiking, kayaking, dancing, playing music and laughing. Each day brings a new adventure, including battling with bugs.

It could be worse. Aragog could be lurking in the closet, ready to pounce on me. But here's more good news about living tiny: Neither Aragog nor Shelob could squeeze into our tiny closet. 

New chapter: Living tiny with the Mountain Man in Eastern Oregon's high desert

Last week I took a doozy of a leap toward my next chapter. I gave my two-weeks' notice at The Columbian, the newspaper where I've been a reporter for 4 1/2 years. Leaving Vancouver and Clark County is bittersweet. It's been my home for three decades, but it's time to begin again in a new home.

In the past five years, I've gained a reputation as the diva of downsizing. With each move, I've cut my footprint in half: 2,400 square feet to 1,100 square feet to my current 600 square feet. Now I'm doing it again. I'll be living in 323 square feet and will fulfill my dream of living in a tiny house.

I'm moving 300 miles to the high desert of Eastern Oregon. I'll be living in a 34-foot fifth wheel RV with a view of the Elkhorn Mountains (sometimes called Little Alps) to the west, the Wallowa Mountains to the east and a reservoir just below us. It's about 22 miles south of La Grande and 22 miles north of Baker City.

Here's the very best part of my new life: the Mountain Man and I finally will be together. Every day! I'm giddy thinking about our future together and the many adventures awaiting us. We can be kayaking on the reservoir in minutes. Hiking, backpacking and fishing are close by in the Elkhorns. Skiing at Anthony Lakes Mountain Resort is only 45 minutes away. We'll go Western swing dancing, camping in the tipi and playing music around the campfire. How fortunate that we found each other after age 50!

Two weeks ago, I emptied my storage unit, had a yard sale and took yet another a carload of stuff to the Goodwill. Now everything I own fits into my little apartment, my sweet home at the edge of the woods. It's crunch time. I'm editing my belongings one more time and getting rid of stuff that's no longer essential.

I'll find work in either La Grande or Baker after I arrive. I can supplement my income with freelance writing gigs and consulting contracts. I've reinvented my career before. I can do it again. I've started a book marketing business and worked for a Random House imprint, created and hosted events for an independent bookstore and became a newspaper reporter at age 52.

The hardest part is leaving my young adult children. But I'll be back to visit them, other family and friends. My roots are deep here.

Here is what will remain the same in my life. I will always be a Mighty Woman. I will keep paddling my own canoe. I am not afraid to try new things. I will continue writing stories. I am excited to start a new life with the Mountain Man, my best friend. Who knows what adventures and opportunities await just around the bend in the river?

This morning, I walked along a trail at the edge of the woods, picked blackberries for my breakfast and expressed gratitude for my sweet time in this home. I've been serenaded by owls and coyotes and have broken bread with my dear housemates, Michael and Kathleen, many times. Even after a series of unfortunate events, I've been incredibly fortunate.

Three weeks from today, I'll step into my new life. I'll gaze at the breathtaking mountains and high desert while holding the hand of the man I love. Who knew life could be this sweet?

When life gives you lemons...

Usually when life gives me lemons, I make lemonade. I'm generally an optimistic glass-half-full kind of woman.

This week I've had my share of lemons, but I didn't have the fortitude to make lemonade. Instead, I puckered at the sourness.

I'm glad today is over. I'm relieved that tomorrow is Friday. One more day of work--and the possibility of more lemons. 

Every morning for several weeks I've been waking up with a stiff, painful left wrist and hand. I've developed arthritis as a result of breaking my wrists in a four-wheeler accident last fall. Stiffness and pain are my new normal. Guess I'd better learn to deal with that recurring lemon.

After soothing my wrist with heat, I drove to work. As I was walking across the street to enter our building, a car barreled up the street, and instead of slowing down when she saw me, the driver just kept going and narrowly missed hitting me. Apparently, I'd irked her. She screeched to a halt, rolled down her window, shouted obscenities and shook her fist at me.

At work I received a voicemail from a confused woman who asked me about an unspecified story published on an uncertain date. When I returned her call, she went on and on about this story (which it turns out, I didn't write). I asked her when the story was published. She said, "I can't get to it right now. I'm on the toilet." Ew! Why did she answer her phone when she was on the toilet? I said I'd call back later and hung up.

Every afternoon at work lately, I've developed a serious headache. It's tough to write stories under deadline pressure when my head is throbbing and my eyeballs feel as if they'll pop out of the sockets. One night this week, I had to cover an evening event and had a short timeline to write a story for the next day's newspaper. My head throbbed so badly I thought I'd throw up. Somehow, I finished my story, moved it into edit, and went to lie down on the couch in the women's lounge while my editor read my story.

My headache has returned today. No painkiller seems to work. But I'm tucked into bed and am applying heat to my stiff wrist.

Thankfully, tomorrow is a new day. I'll try harder to make lemonade from the lemons. I'll write in my gratitude journal and look for the silver lining. 

But sometimes, when life is sour, you just have to pucker.

Passing confidence and joy on to my daughter

Yesterday, my talented, amazing daughter, Katie, and I celebrated her 27th birthday by trying SUP--stand-up paddle boarding. I'm all about giving her an empowering experience to celebrate her special day rather than buying a trinket that would soon be forgotten. She'd mentioned she wanted to try SUP. I was happy to provide this adventure.

In the past few years, I've arranged several mother-daughter adventures that bond us together. These experiences have made us stronger, more confident women, too. And we always have fun!

One Mother's Day a couple of years ago, I took Katie to an archery range and taught her to shoot a bow. She's become a very good shot.

On the archery range for Mother's Day

We've gone hiking in the Columbia River Gorge multiple times. 

Kate hiking in the Columbia River Gorge

Last summer we rode a zip line at a family reunion. 

Kate ready to ride a zip line last summer.

Yesterday I was not surprised that Katie was a natural on the stand-up paddling board. With her years of dance experience and the muscles she's developed as a baker for Salt & Straw, she stood up with ease. When I was still summoning the nerve to try standing up, she was already paddling with confidence. That made me smile. 

A couple of years ago, I'd tried SUP twice, and it was easy. Then I was strong and balanced easily on the wide board. My dragon boating and kayaking instincts took over. I didn't have any fear. I was the Mighty Woman who reinvented myself at age 50 and went on one fearless adventure after another. Along the way, as I changed and grew, I modeled strength, courage and resilience for my daughter.

But yesterday on the paddle board, it was different. I was different. Although Katie and her boyfriend, Keegan stood up effortlessly and paddled along the lake, I still was kneeling on my board. I had to dig deep within myself to find the courage to stand up. 

It was the first time I'd tried SUP since crushing both my wrists 10 months ago. I knew I've lost strength and agility. I was prepared for that. But what I hadn't realized until I climbed onto the board is that I've also lost my Dragon Diva dose of confidence. My fearlessness. Preparing to stand up, I moved from kneeling on the board to crouching with my feet placed so they were perfectly balanced. At that point, the old me would have stood up and started paddling. But I couldn't. Irrational fear gripped me. Instead, I had to give myself my go-to pep talk: "You're a Mighty Woman. You're the woman with the dragon tattoo. You can do this!"

After breathing deeply to calm myself, I tried to stand up, but the board wobbled and I quickly knelt back down. I tried again, and again. At one point, I stood, started paddling, but lost my balance and fell hard on my my hands--and therefore, my wrists. That scared me. I have permanent titanium plates in both wrists. My surgeon said it would take quite a force to damage my wrists again. But falling so hard on my wrists made me even more tentative. When I finally stood up, my legs felt like Jell-o. The paddling part was easy. The balancing part? Not as easy. But I did it!

After I stood up and was paddling, I looked over at my daughter. She'd fallen off her board into the lake. Immediately she climbed back on and stood up again. Just like that! I smiled at my beautiful, courageous daughter, who has climbed some pretty tough mountains the past couple of years. She's a survivor, that daughter of mine. Just like her mama. With the sun shining on the lake, she paddled with a strong stroke--and grinned. Standing on wobbly legs, I paddled strong strokes too. We are Mighty Women, after all.

Kate and me after stand-up paddle boarding on Lacamas Lake.
 I didn't take any  photos of her paddle boarding because 
I was busy trying to stand up on my own board.

This weekend I gave my daughter another gift: my purple bike named Joy. I bought the sturdy, fat-tired Schwinn at a neighborhood estate sale years ago. I named my bike Joy because at the time, I hungered for joy in my life. Together, Joy and I explored the neighborhood and the Columbia River waterfront. Riding Joy gave me the courage to face the unhappiness in my life and to reach toward the hope of a joyful future. I've certainly found a joyful life. But I hadn't ridden Joy much in the past couple of years because my life was so full with dragon boating, kayaking, hiking, learning to swing dance and having many other adventures.

Last week when Katie mentioned that she'd like a bike with a basket to ride to the grocery store and around the neighborhood, I replied: "I'll give you Joy!"

"Really? I've always loved Joy!" she beamed.

When we unloaded the bike at Katie's house, I told her: "I am giving you Joy. Remember that Joy now lives in your house. You can ride her around the neighborhood whenever you need a dose of Joy."

Passing the torch of Joy to my daughter felt so right.Now she will be filled with joy and confidence, too--and ready for her next adventure.

My purple bike named Joy on a ride to the Columbia River.

Passing Joy, my purple garage-sale bike, on to my daughter.

Surviving a tough week: Work layoffs and hanging up my dragon boat paddle

The Mighty Women paddle a dragon boat!
This week, I had to hang up my paddle. 

Have you ever had a week that knocks the wind out of you? Last week, the daily newspaper where I work announced it was laying off 10 percent of the staff. Although I was not laid off, that news sent me reeling.

Here's why: It opened wounds from five years ago when I was newly divorced and was laid off. I had to sell my house in the lowest housing market in decades. In weeks, I emptied a four-bedroom house and gave away much of my possessions.

Because I was unemployed, the only apartment I could afford had homeless people scavenging in the garbage bin right outside my door at all hours. I didn't feel safe. I had a hard time sleeping. My life had turned upside down. Overnight, my status changed from secure, middle-class soccer mom to unemployed woman living on the edge.

Five years later, I'm a different woman. I'm stronger--and not not just physically stronger. After having endured hard things, I've learned that I'm emotionally, mentally and spiritually stronger too. I am grateful for the hardships because they have molded me into the woman I am today.

But that doesn't mean I'm requesting an encore in hardship. When the news of layoffs came last week, they dredged up those past hardships and the panic--of feeling that I couldn't control what was happening in my life. I started thinking about what would happen if I were laid off too. I don't have a house to lose anymore. That's already happened.

I do have a wonderful place I call "home." For more than two years, I have been housemates with my retired minister and his wife. I pay below-market rent for their mother-in-law suite, which has the perks of a view of the woods, a hot tub, and fresh raspberries, blueberries and strawberries just steps outside my door. I've also forged a friendship with this long-married couple. It's been good for me to witness a healthy, long-time marriage. If I were laid off, I likely wouldn't lose my home. I wouldn't be homeless. That was a relief, yet I still worried about the "what ifs."

As much as I'd like to avoid further hardship, life has a way of flinging it our way. Last week, I also had to come to grips with this hard fact: It's time to hang up my dragon boat paddle. It's been nine months since I crushed both wrists in my four-wheeler accident. After surgery and months of physical therapy, this spring I returned to the Mighty Women's dragon boat and paddled with my team. I even paddled during the races in Tacoma. That homecoming was sweet.

But paddling a dragon boat takes a lot of strength, not to mention arm range of motion and wrist mobility. After every paddling practice, my left wrist was in pain. I have to listen to my body and give up the sport--and the team that changed my life. So I reluctantly told the news to Jeanie, my coach who has pushed me, molded me into a Mighty Woman.

In the meantime, I'm continuing to work on my physical therapy on my own. I am determined to get more range of motion, more mobility, more strength. I may not be able to paddle a dragon boat, but I'm confident that soon I'll be able to leisurely paddle a kayak on flat water. I can strap on my backpack and take a hike. I have already done a little swing dancing--another activity that requires lots of arm movement. And while wearing my buckskin skirt, I beat my drum around a campfire while surrounded by friends. My transformation from soccer mom to hippie chick is complete.

My transformation from middle-class soccer mom to hippie chick is complete!

Yesterday, after a week of panic, I reminded myself of this truth: The only thing in life I can control is my attitude. If further layoffs come, let them come. I can handle it. After all, I am the woman with the dragon tattoo. I am confident I will always be a Mighty Woman.

I'm the woman with the dragon tattoo!
I can handle anything.