Two Dykes, One Scamp

Our current abode stands at 1,904 square feet. There are four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and every commonplace amenity you could think of including a jetted tub for a good soak, and a fireplace in the basement underneath a large mounted TV. How did we come to a place where we’ve decided to eliminate 1,891 of those feet and move into a 13-foot Scamp? Although the procurement of said trailer ironically did almost happen overnight, the idea and ambition to transition our lives in such a way did not. It’s been a looming dream since the day we clumsily stumbled into one another’s lives.

Last week Bridie called me to tell me she’d found a Scamp and asked me if I’d like to see it. I said: “No thank you.” We’d slated to save up enough by Spring, and while I understood going to see varying options to get a better idea of what we did and didn’t want, I wasn’t keen on the idea of getting our hopes up or starting that process too prematurely. I could hear the disappointment in her voice and she decided to still go see it. Several hours later she would excitedly call me to tell it was “the one” and then I would break her precious and perfect little heart by reminding her I was a 33-year-old woman with no savings account. This was unfortunate as the owner was so taken with our desire to make her tin-can our home, she’d offered it at 3k less than her original asking price.

bI suggested to my crestfallen lesbian lover that she apply for a loan. At 24-years-old, she was far more responsible than I, and hadn’t reduced her credit to garbage such as myself. How it’s so low takes a combination of due diligence, neglect, impulsive spending, and a trip to Graduate School for good measure. And that’s how several days later, we’d be holding each other in our new bed that would conveniently convert into our kitchen/work table as well. I pointed 10 feet away to the other end of the trailer where there was another padded sitting area, that I would later learn turned into a fucking BUNK BED (my mind was effectively blown) “That’s where you get to sleep when we’re fighting,” I joked. I followed up by kissing her so I didn’t get in trouble.

For those of you unfamiliar with our annoying love story, we famously met and fell head over heels last November. We swiped the same way on Tinder, talked briefly, and then she ghosted me for a month. It’s my favorite story to tell people and her least favorite to hear. After a new phone was acquired and another dating app downloaded – we connected again. The rest is history – public, blatant, in-your-face on Instagram history. But with any good tale of enchantment comes woe – and ours was that only months after meeting, she left for her summer gig. For five months a year, Bridie guides on the Snake and Salmon River up in Idaho. Badass in nature, but not ideal when it comes to maintaining the semblance of a normal relationship. Her trips were about seven days long, and in that time she’s in a canyon with no service. We were able to talk once or twice a week, and occasionally she’d visit if she had a few days off. She was based in Lewiston Idaho, a 10 hour drive away and lived in the back of her truck if she wasn’t on a boat.

tWhile we survived that time period, we also decided to never do it again. That’s when we started dreaming up this plan – a way for us to not be tied to a specific place, for her to continue guiding, to have somewhere she could come home to in between excursions where Nora and I would be waiting. We had thoroughly been though our other options – Should we move? Continue renting? Buy a place somewhere? There were much more rational ideas than buying a Scamp but when we actually sat down and thought about it – that was what we wanted.

We are happiest when we are outdoors, and we are happiest when we are together. Living simply, intentionally, and in close connection to the land is what makes sense to us. In the same way owning a home feels right to people, this aligns with who we are and the kind of life we want to live. Yesterday we got the keys to our first home, and it’s more perfect than we ever could have imagined. It has a quaint kitchenette we will prepare many meals in, a bed we will share, and windows that let in just the right amount of sunlight. There’s no bathroom, shower, or place to go (inside at least) if you want space. The woman who owned it prior had an thing for flamingos and remnants of her aviary affinity are still strewn about the Scamp. It’s both hilarious and perfect.

Nora approached our new home tentatively, like she does with most things – and spent five minutes with a panicked look on her face before she encapsulated the energy of the emoji that’s just shrugging it’s shoulders and said: “Okay, this is my life now.” She made haste turning a fleece blanket into a Chihuahua sized nest, sighed, and closed her eyes. She’s gotten used to change by now, and is (mostly) happy to roll with whatever punches I throw her way. Figuratively, of course, I’m not into animal cruelty or any kind of cruelty for that matter.

We don’t know the exact course of our adventures to come but I do reckon they will be pretty life-altering and amazing when they get here. For now I hold the keys, Bridie’s heart, and a tiny dog with a lot of gusto in my arms. To living the dream, whatever that looks like to you. Chase it.


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