Here is a post that I started writing on January 12, but hadn’t finished yet.

I had been saving this post since Eloise was born. I figured if I gave it enough time, the inspiration would come. I thought it may take at least a month or two, but three, four, six, seven months have gone by and I’ve got nothing.

I have nothing to say about myself.
As in, there is no news to report about me.

Not that anyone was ever that interested in me in the first place. But the reason I started this blog almost two years ago was so that I could still prove to everyone that I was still cool even though I lived in a really small town, working a mostly crappy job, and doing the housewife thing. But then I got unexpectedly pregnant, so I spent the rest of the time talking about how inconvenient that was and what my life was going to be like after a baby. Then the baby came and I spent that time talking about how great it was having her around. So I figured, in the natural progression of things, that eventually I would come around and be able to go back to talking about how cool I am, even though I am a working from home mother in small town Alabama. I figured it would happen by now. The old Laura would emerge like a phoenix from the ashes of the past year- older, wiser, and even more fabulous and full of inspiration because of the amazing life journey I have been on.

Well, eight months in, and a I feel older, and maybe just a tad wiser, but definitely nothing like that which would resemble a phoenix.

I got so annoyed with my bored and whiny self that I couldn’t even finish this. I stopped there. And it’s a good thing I did. Because shortly after I penned (typed) these doleful words, something did rise from the ashes. But it wasn’t a phoenix.

It was a 1973 Airstream Argosy.

Yep. It’s true. I can hardly type this without wanting to jump up and down. I am now the proud (PROUD) owner of a 1973 Airstream. Dreams really do come true. We haven’t driven the 250 miles to pick it up yet, but just knowing that somewhere in someone’s backyard in Cohutta, Georgia (wherever that is) is my very own aluminum capsule of hope.

Now before this happened, I would have told you that material possessions do not and can not make you happy.  I probably still would tell you that, just to sound pious. But Holy cow, I sure am happy. Because this isn’t just a material possession to me. I never wanted an airstream to look cool (and I surely won’t in its current state) or to have some sort of status (1973 trailers kinda give off a meth lab vibe- not the status I am looking for). Airstreams represent freedom. You can take your house and family anywhere. So it doesn’t matter if I have to do casket company websites for the rest of my life (which I frequently do), or if we always live in Florence, or if  we become the Duggars and have twelve sets of twins. I am not stuck. I have a way out. The gypsy that lives inside of me has space to breathe. And I like that. I love that. The nuclei in my cells are rejoicing. And I love the fact that it is a dumpy airstream, that way I can fix it up any way I want to, just like I always dreamed.

Here is a look at my dream come true.

So and So now I have a new project to work on and I can’t wait to get started.  I will keep all five of you updated on the progress as it happens.