Land of Nod! $200 + extra for campfire!! Expensive? Well... not compared to what a real one will set you back:) Actually a pretty good deal! 
Check out this amazing Spartan trailer with a house built around it on a river in Texas. I have to say; generally, I am not prone to jealousy. Usually, I'm happy with what I have and not frustrated by what others have, even when I deeply admire it. 

So, I feel a little sheepish admitting that the green-eyed monster bit me when I saw this. OUCH! Want. Want. Wantwantwantwant. WANT. (Falls over, comatose) 

I had a real pity party- sulking that someone else is "living my dream!" (like I own it, ha!). And they QUITE obviously have the means to live it pretty luxe. I'm not fooled by "simple elegance"- I know high-end when I see it, damn it. Ugh. Those kind of petty feelings are SO miserable; it makes you so unhappy. Yuk. How do people endure it for long? 

But... I mean, can you blame me? Look again, DRINK it in, in all it's stunning photography: 
That is very, very breathtaking. No lie. The mirror image just slays me. 

Upon review, I realized that my feelings are closer to sadness and yearning. I have been trying to execute this concept for 5 years now. What I really want is MY beautiful trailer, sheltered with an elegant structure, in the Hill Country in Texas. 

And I will get there. It might not be on land quite as spectacular as this. It might not be as shiny. But. Inspiration is FREE, and there are lots of things going on here that are just so very well done. I started appreciating how cool these people are to choose this, when they clearly could have a much less unique place. 

I also realized that I don't want to obscure my trailer this much. I want it to be more visible, more focal. Which is to say: This is a Very, Very, Very Beautiful Baby. But it ain't my Baby. 

I hope someday I get to see this place in person and tell them how wonderful it is. 

And invite them to my place so I can share what my dream looks like when it's done. 

(Also, note to self: Take totally kickass photos!) 

If it is not clear by the giddy nature of my reports, the trailer is heaps of fun. The best thing bout the Spartan is the people. I could sit around, talk, drink, eat and listen to music with interesting people 24/7/365. I love it. Talk to me, baby. Let's HANG. 

The challenge is that getting the trailer out and about is no small feat. Frankly, she is slow. And then there is that whole backing up thing...  

While I don't ever see a time when I would permanently land-dock my trailer, she really needs a home base. Of course, it has to fit my vision. It's one of my favorite things to day-dream about these days. Land criteria is a) less than 2 hours from downtown Houston b) away from urban/ suburban sprawl c) a good place to camp, walk, see the night sky and possibly go swimmin'. 

Architecturally, I'd like to build a roofed structure to park under that would allow shade. I want to build screened in porches or pavilions for outdoor sleeping. I want outdoor showers and a good bathhouse. I want a stone fire pit with comfortable seating- and a small "barn" for storing things like outdoor cushions in. I want an outdoor kitchen area, with water to wash up and tables nearby. I want some paths that twist and turn to small gardens or places to meditate. 

When I think about my trailer "vision", I find myself leaning more to the modern  than the vintage. Spartans are elegant. They have that whole stream-lined, art-deco, sleek sensibility to them. I want to translate that to a modern inside/ outside space for entertaining and relaxing. 

I want: clean lines, function over cute or clutter, traditional local materials such as quarried stone and metal roofs, and amazing landscaping with native plants. I want solar panels, and good architectural design. 

So, as I focus my blog, expect to see some posts on things I find inspirational architecturally as well as posts admiring my friend's cool vintage trailers and campers... and the usual musings on my trailer-related experiences and inevitable ineptness.  

I love the way the architect of this wonderful home in the Houston mid-town area salvaged the remains of an old brick building- probably commercial- and made it into the good bones of a modern style house. 

My favorite aspect is the impact of the industrial gate with rusty iron patina. I'm a fan of patina, you may recall. And while this is a little more urban that I suspect my eventual design will be, I admire the use of existing materials, and the use of space. This fascinating little corridor could have been a crappy ally with a/c units in it. All the more remarkable is that it is surrounded by, what are, for the most part, completely uninspired contemporary town homes hastily erected by builders who rushed in to capitalize on this neighborhoods sudden resurgence. In time I think this will retain it's design integrity while many of it's neighbors will be very dated. 

Just look at the gate's enormous bolts- symmetry and punch- just enough detail to be interesting. And the grill with peep-through of the clean garden landscape and fountain takes the harsh industrial edge off. I like to think this is a post-modern take on the elegant iron grill gates in New Orleans and that offer a tantalizing peek at the secret gardens within. 


So, the trailer dilemma. It’s cool. I mean Really Cool. It’s been in my family forever. 20 years longer than I have, to be exact.

In case you did not know me in the 90’s, you may not know that I am big time Vintage Girl. I worked at vintage store- and a silver jewelry shop- most of my trip through college. I am a leopard-skin kinda gal who has been trapped in corporate America for 10 years. I’ve been nice. I’ve been respectable. I’ve been upper middle class. I’m a mom. And now, it’s time to be just a little BAD. Irresponsible. Fun.

Ring. Ri-ng. Riiiinnng! “Daddy, I want the trailer!”

Ok. How am I gonna pull this off? Unlike my loner younger years when I shunned too much companionship and anything that looked like, heaven forbid, help, I am now much, much smarter.

 I lived, alone for 10 years in a Victorian tear down. No Central AC. In Houston. What I learned was that I was tough. And cool. And LONELY as hell. So, belatedly I figured out how damn wrong Mazlow was about the pyramid of needs. Food? Shelter? 401K? Shit. What a person needs is decent freakin’ friends. They are the ultimate survival secret and if you don’t have them you ARE starving in a gutter even if you don’t realize it.

I have a little kid. She’s 3. I am all up-to-date on my classic bedtime stories. Well, do you remember The Little Red Hen? You know: She Found Some Wheat? “Who will help me plant/ reap/ grind the wheat?” Well, she had a bunch of lazy-ass friends who would not do jack squat to help her. “Not I!” they gleefully cried, which is the bedtime story equivalent of not answering cell phones or replying to text messages. In the end, LRH whips up some fabulous bread and wadda ya know. All the friends are ready to Party. And LRH has a clue by this point and shuns them with a big ole No Way.

Now. Is the point of the story that LRH showed them in the end? No. I think not. Pay attention! LRH was left eating bread alone, people.  The point is that LRH had a bunch of loser friends who needed dumping sooner, not later. She should have found some peeps who thought helping her was part of the Party. Then she would not have eaten enough bread to make herself sick primarily to spite others.  I mean, honestly, self-righteousness does not equal FUN.

This moral was not lost on me. I’ve spent 20 years cultivating the most bad-ass set of friends you’ve ever seen. I mean, my friends are the Justice League of America. They provide a quality of protection against Life’s Cruel Disappointments that is generally reserved for fiction. Only they are Real. Real and Really Talented. And probably slightly off-kilter, but hey, look who they hang out with.

Thus, I am taking my trailer project to my Little Black Belt Hens (LBBH?). We are sooo gonna make this one Secret Lair to write home about.