Modern life blows. Don’t get me wrong; convenience is awesome. But where’s the joy? Where’s the accomplishment? Why do I need to be swimming in debt just to keep up with the Joneses? Who are the Joneses, anyway?
This is our journey of going off the grid but with nary a dollar in our bank account. You don’t need to go broke to live simply.
And who I am? So kind of you to ask! I’m a twelfth-generation American who grew up on the Mason Dixon Line. As a kid of the 80s, I played with paper dolls and coffee-can stilts. I wore hand-made clothes instead of hand-me-downs. I sewed, knit, hammered, and made damned fine biscuits. I read Laura Ingalls Wilder and Lucy Maud Montgomery. I watched I Love Lucy and The Brady Bunch. I beat up a lot of boys. I still, pretty much, do all of these things.
I grew up wanting to be an FBI Agent, a writer, an immigration lawyer. I ended up a housewife. It’s not a bad gig, all things considered, though the pay is friggin lousy. Still, I do get to do a lot of what I want, hence, the going off the grid. I blame my parents, really. After all, maybe they should have put their foot down when, at 12, I asked for a sleeping cap & a lantern and, instead, shoved some Baby-Sitter’s Club my way.
♥ Viola and (the usually silent unless I twist his arm) Edgar ♥