Gluten-sensitivity 101: soy sauce has gluten in it. I’m used to thinking of soy sauce as a problem, only to be used in limited amounts, because of the soy in it. In my kitchen, the soy sauce is gluten-free and the rare times I’ve gone out for sushi, it’s been to a sushi place that has a gluten-free soy sauce available. Even my grocery store used gluten-free soy sauce. I stopped thinking about soy sauce as a gluten problem.


But so it goes. My days in Maine have been very quiet and much more unproductive then intended, but I remind myself that I’m living in a tiny house, not a vacation home. It’s okay if sometimes my life in my tiny house mirrors what my life in a real house would be. A gluten screw-up always does result in quiet days.

It’s strange how often I think, “when I get home,” though. Example: I think I should cut off my hair. Taking care of long hair is always a pain, but even more so when water is limited. I’ve managed to overflow the gray drainage tank before, which means water around my ankles in the bathroom until I can dump it. Short hair would rinse more quickly. So I think, “when I get home, I should cut my hair.” But… this is home. Wherever I am is home. For some things — the doctor’s appointment, the dentist appointment — it makes sense to stick with the people I know in Florida, but hair cuts, vet appointments, buying birthday presents for relatives, looking for a rug for the door area, picking up some better twin sheets… these are all things that can be done wherever I am (more or less). And yet, I think, “when I am home…” I wonder how long it will take for that to wear off or if it ever does?

But it won’t be long now before I am home. A week from today I start the long drive south. In between will be many quick relative visits. It will not, I suspect, be my most productive week, but that’s okay. When I am home, I will get lots of writing done. 🙂 (I suspect “home” is going to turn out to be an unrealistic daydream destination that I never quite get to, but I hope I get lots of writing done soon anyway.)

This morning, a flock of wild turkeys wandered through the campground. B was enraged, barking and growling and choking himself on the end of his tie-out cord in his determination to kill them all. I can definitely say, as a result, that he just wanted to make friends with the cat this weekend, because B in a “drive these creatures away” mode was very different. Also kind of ridiculous, since the turkeys outnumbered and outweighed him. He did scare them off, though, to my regret. I would have liked to watch them for a while. They had that elegant bird stalk, long necks bobbing as long legs delicately picked their way along the gravel path. Not pretty birds, but surprisingly graceful. Much, much skinnier than your average Thanksgiving bird. And I am sort of guessing that they were wild turkeys, because that’s the only slot in my head for birds of that size, that color, that shape, living in Maine.

Two months ago, I was almost moved into Serenity. Tomorrow will be two months since I’ve been sleeping in her. I’m trying not to let myself get settled into solutions that aren’t perfect. Example: I left a folded blanket by the door about ten days ago because it was dirty and damp and I didn’t want to put it away. It turned out to be a huge help with keeping the dogs from tracking in dirt, so it’s been there ever since. But it’s not a rug, and it gets in the way of the fridge door opening, and now that I have an idea for a potentially helpful addition, I’d like to find a real rug. I don’t want to wake up six months from now with that blanket still on the floor, still being occasionally annoying and more often useful. As a home, Serenity is still a work in progress, I guess.

As a life, though… well, two thumbs up. It hasn’t always been easy — change is hard and this is a seriously big change. But it has often been glorious.