The Last Starbucks

I have been picturing this moment for years now… picturing, dreaming, envisioning, hoping for, praying for, questioning at times, even fearing it if the anxiety got too tight a hold, but grasping onto it in my mind as clear as day. Greg and I talked about “that dream moment,” many times, when we would be HERE, sitting in the secure area, at our gate, with our last Canadian Starbucks.

There were many times it seemed like it would never come. I even started typing this post a long time ago so I could read it over when I needed a reminder to have faith and hold tight to the dream. Every time we travel I take a secure area Starbucks photo before we get on the plane; if you’ve followed me in the past, you know the ones.

This is “the last Starbucks” on this side of the ocean for a while. This is the last Starbucks on this side of a one way ticket to New Zealand (I left a blank when I typed this months ago because I used to be sure it was Rome but somehow knew it might be somewhere else).

This is the last Starbucks on this side of the life we know, the last Starbucks on this side of a life we can almost predict. This is the last Starbucks on this side of safety in our people, comfort in our communities, stability in the familiarity of home. This is the last Starbucks in the same building as family members and close friends, who we’ve just hugged and cried with downstairs. This is the last Starbucks on this side of the biggest adventure we’ve ever known, this side of the contradicting panic and fear, and also complete peace that we have in knowing we’re supposed to do this. This is the last Starbucks as people who have only ever lived in one city, before changing everything we know, and trusting God more than we’ve had to in a while to provide everything we need. This is the last Starbucks on this side of the hugest leap of faith we’ve ever taken.

This moment is here.

This moment is real.

This moment is now.

Woah.

We’ll catch up with you on the other side of the world! Cheers.

There Will Always Be Something to Worry About

There will always be something to worry about. Even when one thing gets resolved, and I think, “if this could just happen, then I’ll feel so much better…” there’s always going to be the next thing. If there weren’t, we wouldn’t need God to rely on. Even when one trial in life is finished, it’s backed with another one, of another kind, or the same kind, eventually. This is life, and trials are our teachers.

We struggled all summer to rent our house. We prayed and prayed, because we wanted tenants in the spring, so we could live in our camper all summer and save money for our planned move to Italy this fall. Along the way, through a series of events and lessons, we learned that we are actually not going to Italy; we’re planning to move to New Zealand. (For that story, check out this post, and the next two parts. How We Planned to Move to Italy and Ended up Choosing New Zealand; Our Story Part 1.)

We ended up showing the place to our tenants on September 20th, which was a long night for me; 2 of the 3 guys said they wanted it and shook my hand, but 1 said he needed to sleep on it. I had to chose to trust that if these guys were meant to live in our house, they would, and if they turned it down, God would bring someone else. Thankfully by mid-afternoon the next day, they had committed. They weren’t available to sign the lease for 5 more days. Then, I had to trust God that they wouldn’t change their minds over the weekend! On the 25th, we signed the lease. Even then, I was hesitant. It seemed too good to be true. Have you ever wanted something so bad, so long, that when it actually seems to be coming together, you think it can’t be real and might get snatched away in an instant? Every day, I have to choose to continue to trust God with our dreams. There’s always something to worry about. We could always lose something, or someone.

Greg almost died at work last month. I’ll get to that story later. Ever since I had him, I’ve feared losing him. When we were first engaged I used to have nightmares that he either cheated on me or died.

I think it’s fair to say that my family of origin struggles with fear, worry and anxiety. My sister was ill a lot growing up, and we almost lost her to her illness a few times. Being inches away from having your daughter or sister die, more than once, shows you that life is a gift; it’s not stable, and not to be taken for granted. It can also put some fear in you, because you don’t want to experience the pain of watching her suffer, or experience the suffering of losing her, or being ill as well.

When a person grows up with this, it becomes habitual. Then, the older we get, and the more pain and suffering we see, the more there is to fear. I have friends that are alone, either because they haven’t met the right partner, or because they’ve been abandoned. I’ve watched marriages break apart now, of people that got married around the time we did. I’ve had friends get cheated on, abandoned with newborns, left for someone else, widowed at our age! I’ve lost a very dear friend to cancer. The list goes on.

There’s always something to worry about. And the truth is, any one of these things could happen to us. I’ve been personally violently assaulted, and robbed, and struggle with fear for safety. I’ve had health problems, and major lung surgery, and struggle with fear of illness. We’re not immune to the pain of this world, even if we have God. He didn’t want it like this, but the world is imperfect, and there is pain. I have to hold on to and cling to the fact that He can bring good out of the ugly. He can take the broken pieces and put them back together. He can teach me something, and I can use those lessons to help and support others. I have to choose to put everything I hold into His hands, and trust He is good, because – here’s a huge understatement – it isn’t easy, and it’s always going to be a choice. But what is the alternative? Does not trusting God make life easier? Take away my pain? Eliminate my suffering?

I used to hold so tightly to my dream of having a permanent contract in my city’s public school division. When I was young, that was what I wanted for my life. All through high school and University, that was my big life plan; that permanent contract became everything to me. I needed it to be happy. I got married, had a house and car, good church, friends, decent health, family, and when I had that contract, my life would finally be complete. I really believed that for years. One year, I felt God showing me that I had put that contract on a pedestal and I was giving it way too much power in my life.

There is a story I heard about a little girl who gets cheap, fake pearls and loves them so much. Her Dad asks her every night if she trusts him, and if he can have them. She offers him everything she has, all of her other toys, but not her pearls. After several nights of this, she finally decides to trust him. She gives him her pearls, her most prized possession. In return, he gives her back real, genuine pearls.

That story still makes me emotional, because I have identified with it so much, initially in regards to my idolized teaching contract, and then eventually in several other areas of my life. God, our Father, isn’t out there looking to take things from us, just because. He’s got genuine, better things to replace the cheap, fake things we are holding so tightly to.

It’s like my eyes opened one day, and I realized that maybe, just maybe, there was something else I could do in my life that would be more satisfying and fulfilling and ultimately better for me. Mind. Blown. My permanent contract in my city was my fake pearls. I didn’t have to be afraid of letting that contract go anymore. As soon as I was willing to give it up, my world started opening with new possibilities.

That was a few years ago, and at the time, I believed I had given God all of my pearls. This summer, as I continued to worry about other things, that I was or am still holding tightly to, I realized something important. I hadn’t given God my whole string of pearls. The permanent contract was one pearl on the string. I have many other fake pearls that I’m still clinging to, because I don’t want the pain of losing them, or I fear what God will do with them. There is still work to be done in me.

I can either blame my family of origin and life circumstances for my tendency toward fear, or I can accept where I came from, take responsibility for my own struggles, and choose to accept God’s grace and help as I grow. I went with the second option, and have worked very hard on myself, and on letting God change me, for the last decade. There’s a saying that resonates with me: “I’m not where I want to be, but thank God I’m not where I was.” I’m not where I want to be. I still struggle with fearful thoughts and I will likely have to fight them every day for the rest of my life. I still want to cling tightly to certain things in my life that I want control over, or don’t want to lose, and have to fight to remember to hold them with loose hands. I used to always lose those fights though; now, some days, I win. Thank God I’m not where I was!

Back to the story of how Greg almost died. Greg has been roofing this summer. I don’t like the thought of him up on a roof every day. He’s clumsy. I also found out that he wasn’t wearing his safety harness lots of the time, and that made me more concerned. All summer, I’ve worried about him on the roof. I worried a lot at the start, but every day, as Greg left, I prayed that God would protect my husband. He did. I realized somewhere in there that God is Greg’s Father, who made him and loves him. Greg is God’s son, more than he is my husband. I decided to change my prayer.

One morning I prayed, “God, please protect your son today.” That same day, after Greg had finished roofing, he was at the dump unloading old shingles with his co-worker. They were using a large dump trailer, weighing upwards of 8000lbs. His co-worked hadn’t hooked the trailer up properly to the truck. It was also not working well, and Greg was standing in between the trailer and the truck, working on some wiring. He said that he just got a sense, all of a sudden, that he needed to step away, out from in between the truck and trailer. He dropped what he was doing and moved back. Instantly, the trailer unlatched and fell forward into the back of the truck, snipping the wires in half and crushing the tailgate, right where Greg had been standing. His co-worker was in shock at what had occurred, realizing it was his fault, and remembering where Greg had just been. Greg was shocked as well, and grateful to God for sparing his life. I realized when Greg came home and told me this, that I hadn’t even worried about him dying at the dump. He was off the roof, so I had stopped worrying. My worries don’t help him! God is in control and He thankfully kept Greg safe that day.

We did eventually rent out our house, so we could go ahead with the moving plans. But then I worried the rental wouldn’t go through. And then I worried they’d change their minds! And then I worried we wouldn’t get the right health insurance, or that we would have visa problems, or that our move won’t go through, or that we’ll get sick over there, or there won’t be jobs, or we’ll live somewhere unsafe, or go broke, or not have friends there, or that we’ll lose our friends here. What if we hate it? What if we love it? What will we do next year for work, or the year after that? Where will we live?

For the rest of our days, there will always be unanswered questions, and things we aren’t in control of and can’t know. There will always be something to worry about. As far as I’ve learned this summer, trusting God has a plan for me, to bring me hope and a future, is my best option. Otherwise the worries and unknowns will overwhelm me and weigh me down. What will be, will be anyways, whether I just plain worry, or whether I worry, and then chose to pray and trust and remind myself that God is good, and in control, and has a plan for me. Not easy, no, not easy at all – but possible.

Some days I fail, and some days I succeed, but I must keep choosing to trust, because there will always be something I could worry about. Another way of looking at it, is that there will always be something to choose to trust in; and God has been proving Himself to me day by day. Even as I write this, I find myself still facing some of these fears. I’m thankful for grace as I continue to learn.

How We Planned to Move to Italy and Ended Up Choosing New Zealand; Our Story Part 3

The house wasn’t renting, so I had a summer of wrestling with God. We felt we had been hearing Him so clearly for two years, guiding us to this move, and now, this house was holding us back. How will we pay for everything without selling it? (I still don’t know the answer to this). Why didn’t we get renters sooner?

I was really struggling one week, and one morning I decided to go find some nature and have it out with God (cause you know, God is there apparently… I know He’s actually everywhere, but I seemed to think meeting Him in nature would give me answers). Greg happened to call me that same morning and said he had to go to the lake for a quick job that afternoon, and invited me along. Perfect. This was my chance!

As he worked, I found an old, wooden swing set and went for a long swing. I told God exactly how angry I was and laid all my confusion out there. I asked, “why haven’t we rented the house yet?” I noticed that as I was moving on the swing, the same view to the side looked different from the forward swing than it did from the back swing. I could look at the same swing post, and see that it looked entirely different depending on how I looked at it. I thought, “maybe we’re looking at this move all wrong. I heard, “you need a new perspective.” I had no idea what that meant. I went away mad that I hadn’t gotten what I wanted: my phone buzzing with dozens of potential tenants, but I kept the thought in the back of my mind.

I kept spending time every morning reading lots of devotionals about trust, and one day, one of them suggested a journaling practice of writing out my fears and facing them head on. I started praying and writing them out, and I remembered the “perspective” thought I’d been trying to figure out. I kept writing fears, and eventually I got to, “what if it’s not Rome?” I immediately felt a sense of peace when I let go of Rome.

I thought, if it’s not Rome, it’s Australia or New Zealand. We’d never been to either, but we had our eyes on them. We’d talked about traveling to visit them, maybe on the way to Italy since we’d have some time. We had even discussed living in one or both countries after a year in Italy. They were on our must-see travel destinations list, but we hadn’t been yet and I had been unwilling to choose a place to move to, that I hadn’t already been to. I’d seen people do that on House Hunters International and always thought they were absolutely nuts! “I would never move to a place I hadn’t been before,” I had said to Greg. Cue God’s laughter.

Australia and New Zealand looked and sounded wonderful, and my favourite wine is from Australia. New Zealand has great wine and weather too, and is part of the commonwealth. Australia wasn’t accepting people our age for working holiday visas (at that time), but New Zealand was! I met Greg at the gym before teaching my fitness class and quickly said to him, “I don’t think we’re supposed to move to Rome. I think we’re supposed to move to New Zealand. Don’t say anything yet, but think on it during my class.” It must have come as quite a surprise to him, but he just said, “hmm. Okay. I’m open to that!”

We discussed it in more detail that evening, and he was at peace about it too, fully on board, and excited about it. We could work in the wine industry there; I could have a break from teaching, and there would be more opportunity for us to both have jobs. More importantly, there would be the opportunity for my husband to have his dream job. We’d have to start at the bottom, of course, but we’d gain experience in the industry. It’s English speaking, and culturally less of a departure from what we’re used to for our first move ever. Visas are way simpler to get, our dollar goes further, and the climate is warmer. Also, guess what begins in New Zealand in November – the month we were supposed to be moving? Wine season.

We wanted to think on it, keep praying for wisdom, and try it on for size. I suggested that we actually start “trying it on” by speaking like we had picked New Zealand instead, and seeing how it felt. In our daily conversations, we changed out “when we live in Rome,” to “when we live in New Zealand.” We noticed it was easy to say, and exciting. I wasn’t terrified anymore, and Greg was no longer overwhelmed at the prospect of the do list that living in Italy presented us with. We noticed that we were excited again! We began dreaming again, and we felt renewed. We wanted to use our upcoming summer holiday to really invest time into the decision, so we decided to officially choose after the trip was done, and to keep it quiet for the time being. We still had to rent the house anyways, and sell the BMW.

We went on a trip to BC to do wine touring, and to visit some of our favourite cousins (the same ones who challenged my husband to find his passion). They inspire us and challenge us both so much. We explained how we weren’t sure where to move. They advised us not to worry about “the where,” so much as “the what.” What was it that we felt we were supposed to be doing? When we were asked to think of it in that frame of mind, we felt we knew already that we were to be in the wine industry.

Every industry needs Christians. We could be the Christians in the wine industry. I know that seems counterintuitive, or taboo to some people, and we know we don’t have everyone’s support. We know some people are probably praying for us, thinking our souls are lost because we want to work in this industry. That’s fine, and we’ll gladly take extra prayers, but we feel it is where we’re supposed to be, for this time in our lives. Italy couldn’t fulfill that “what,” so we needed a new “where” that could. We ended up deciding on either Australia or New Zealand by the end of our trip; Greg was really leaning towards New Zealand.

While in BC, we filled our cousins in on the house situation and the struggle with the move. We had been praying to find tenants through a mutual connection all summer. We didn’t want to post the house publicly and have someone in it that we didn’t know anything about, as it’s not just a rental property; it’s our home and we wanted to leave it furnished. Word of mouth and social media had not been working. I struggled with feeling like I would be giving up on God if I posted it publicly. Our cousins said that sometimes you just have to pick a date, make a decision, and move forward with it. We decided to try that strategy.

We prayed and chose September 15th. We told God we were trying to trust Him but felt we needed to take action of some kind, and that if we didn’t have tenants by the 15th, we’d post it.

On the 12th, we went to a Wine Locker Member invite only wine tasting, for Villa Maria wines, from New Zealand, with a Kiwi there to lead the tasting. We spoke to her after, and she is from the exact area in New Zealand that we want to live. She gave us her contact info, told us how to make our resumes (CV’s), told us where to buy a car, find a rental, and gave us so many helpful tips. She encouraged us and said we should be able to get jobs in the industry. I hope she’s right! Talking to her was so encouraging, and made us feel even better about our choice. We were pretty set on New Zealand after that night.

September 15th came, and we still had no tenants, so we posted the house. We had prayed that by my brother in law’s wedding on October 5th, we would be able to tell all our family and friends the date we were leaving, and where we were going. It was important for us to have closure and be able to use the wedding as a family reunion in a way, to say our goodbye’s in person, hug everyone and tell them we love them.

Within the first week of the house being posted, we had lots of interest. We set up several viewings, and our first one was three people who we have several mutual connections with, including some of my family members, and our property manager! They had seen the add publicly, and didn’t even realize it was us they had been speaking to! They informed us the next day that they wanted our house for October 1st. This was what we’d been praying for all along and I was beyond excited and grateful!

We moved in with Greg’s parents on my birthday, finalized our health insurance, and booked our flights a couple of days later. We applied for our New Zealand work visas, expecting them to take 3 weeks. I had to submit my driver’s license information on my visa application, but I had just gotten a new one, and it hadn’t come in the mail yet! I had to submit the date of issue and had no idea what it would be. I prayed, and guessed a date, entered it, and applied, praying more that it wouldn’t be a problem, and that I’d be able to change it when my license arrived. Our visas surprisingly came through within only 2 days, the day before the wedding!

We were able to tell everyone in person, and say our goodbyes, just as we’d hoped and prayed for. When my license arrived the following week, I ripped it open anxiously to see what the date of issue was going to be. To my surprise, it was the exact date I guessed when I filled in my visa application! I don’t even have to contact immigration and try and change it, or risk problems when we land. Amazing.

I love looking back and seeing all of the things that had to come to be in order for us to be where we are now.

If we hadn’t been set on Rome initially, I wouldn’t have even been open to moving abroad at all. It had to be somewhere warm, and in Europe for me in the beginning or I wouldn’t have even considered a move.

If we hadn’t been pulled towards Rome, where we thought we wanted to go, we wouldn’t have been planning ahead in order to save money and arrange finances and other details we still needed to get New Zealand visas.

Without the comfort of my English teaching course, we would have had no plausible job possibilities for either of us, and wouldn’t have even considered moving abroad.

If our friends hadn’t given Greg the brewing supplies, he never would have found his passion for the industry, and asked to take the WSET course for our anniversary.

If that watch I bought him hadn’t cancelled for no reason, I wouldn’t have had the money to pay for the WSET course, and we wouldn’t have done it.

If we hadn’t done that course, we wouldn’t have considered working in the wine industry.

If we’d never done the WSET course, we also wouldn’t have our wine locker, and wouldn’t have met the Italian winemaker who discouraged us to look for wine jobs in Italy, or the Kiwi wine rep who encouraged us about possibilities in New Zealand.

If we hadn’t had our 10th anniversary in 2018, we wouldn’t have done the Europe trip that essentially clarified that it was not where we were supposed to live.

Had I not gotten my extended contract at my school in 2017, and the timing of all the other things I mentioned that year hadn’t lined up, we would have tried to move a year sooner.

Had I not gotten laid off in 2018, I’m not sure what we would have decided about proceeding with the move, especially once September came and we didn’t have tenants.

If we had rented the house out even one month sooner, we would have bought plane tickets to Italy, not New Zealand.

God’s timing – it’s a thing!

We still have no idea where we will end up living, or working, and as anyone who’s moved before knows, we’ll be starting up a new life in so many ways. Nothing is certain. It’s exciting and terrifying, all at the same time. Even the things we think we’ve planned now, could still change. Maybe we won’t settle where we think, or end up working in the wine industry after all. Life is so uncertain that way. This is a risk, and it could be incredibly rewarding, or incredibly disappointing. I know it will be challenging, and I know we will learn.

We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers as we take steps forward on this adventure, and we look forward to sharing the experience with you via my blog, and through the Instagram handle, “ourroadleadstoroam.”

Thanks for reading our story, and following along with us.

How We Planned to Move to Italy and Ended Up Choosing New Zealand; Our Story Part 2

We spent the 2017 – 2018 school year doing our best to be grateful for our jobs and home, and all of our blessings here, even though we had hoped to be in Rome. It was a lesson in patience and gratitude. We would get there in September, we thought. In December, my brother in law got engaged, and picked October 5th as his wedding day! He wanted my husband in the wedding, and us to sing. We wanted to be there too, but we thought we were moving in early September. We planned to miss the wedding, and stick to our September plan.

During that winter, I was out of town for a friend’s birthday. We were in a big mall, and my husband and I ended up having a miscommunication that left me pretty upset. I was crying in public; as classy as that is, I wanted to be somewhere alone for a few minutes. I ran into the first store I found (Indigo) and went to the farthest back corner I could find where I could pretend to look at the shelves and finish crying. Low and behold, something caught my eye. I was in the calendar section, and there was one that was upside down and misplaced. I could only see a corner of it, but I thought it looked like Italy, so I pulled it out. Sure enough, it was an Italy calendar. It was 30% off, (and I was going to be 30 when we moved, and found that significant at the time) and I bought it. I saw it as a sign. I couldn’t wait to find out which month Rome was. I was sure it would be September, because that’s when we were planning to go, and it would be so serendipitous! Nope – Rome was November. November? No way we weren’t moving until November. I hoped this wasn’t foreshadowing.

A few months later, we decided we really should be a part of my brother in law’s wedding. We decided to postpone our move to November, and then travel around a bit before finding work for me in January. The only thing that I was disappointed about was that November is probably the worst month ever to travel Italy. They get tones of rain and lots of places are closed down for the winter. There’s a condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and as much as I made fun of it the first time I heard about it, I am a full on SAD sufferer! If it’s not sunny often enough, I am upset and tired. If it’s raining when I’m trying to travel or be on a holiday, I am Up-Set! We couldn’t decide where we’d want to travel in November to get out of the rain, and not kick our move off with me being very SAD, leading to Greg being very annoyed.

By this time, Greg also knew he would love to work in the wine, spirits or beer industry. Ice-cream-in-the-square business out; alcohol industry in! A few years ago, some friends gave him some old home brewing supplies to sell for them, and he decided to keep the supplies and try his hand at it. We had no idea how much he was going to love it, and how that passion would lead to him wanting to work in the alcohol industry one day. He found a passion for brewing beer, and over the years and many trips to wine regions, we both found a passion for wine. The answer to his cousins’ question from years ago was finally clear.

As our 10th anniversary was approaching, I decided to get him a nice watch as a gift. I found what I thought was the perfect one and waited for it to go on sale. It had my birthstone on the front, and was clear in the back, and called the “open heart” watch, which felt great for an anniversary gift. I ordered it and paid. Within a week, my money was refunded to me and I was sent an email saying they couldn’t fulfill my order, with no reason! I was so disappointed. Greg, of course, knew none of this, and happened to notice one of our city’s private liquor stores was offering the WSET Level 2 course in the spring. We had wanted to take this before, but it’s not cheap. He asked if we could take the course together as his anniversary gift. Seeing as how I had just been refunded the watch money, and had no idea what to get him, I agreed!

We loved every minute of it, and both passed with distinction. We started volunteering at wine tastings and participating in everything we could to learn more. We made new friends in the industry and had great connections with them over a bottle of wine. When people asked what we were going to do in Italy, our answer was now, “well Chelsea can teach English, but what we really want to do is work in the wine industry.”

We knew it was not easy to get jobs in that industry in Italy unless we spoke Italian or had connections. Our liquor store hosted an Italian wine tasting with a wine maker from Italy on site. We spoke to her of our plans and she made it seem very unlikely that we could get jobs, other than maybe as harvest hands in smaller centres. That was a bit discouraging, but we kept holding onto the idea that we wanted to work in the wine industry and we were going to at least try; I had my English teaching certification to fall back on. We relayed this dream over and over to people who asked what we wanted to do for work, but we didn’t hear ourselves saying what our passion really was.

My husband surprised me with a trip to France for our 10th anniversary in June. We went back to Paris, and spent 5 days exploring several iconic wine regions. (We clearly love this industry.) I was so excited for the trip for all the obvious reasons, but also because I expected God to give me this incredible sense of peace while we were over there. I was sure He would confirm for me that we were making the right decision to live in Europe.

We arrived and on the first night, I had an ear ache. Greg was fast asleep. My doctor advised hydrogen peroxide for my ear aches in the past, and I didn’t have any with me. I started thinking about how I needed to buy some, but I didn’t know how to communicate it, or where to buy it. Then I got thinking about how I would communicate with doctors once we moved if something else happened. I realized a lot of things that I wasn’t feeling good about that night, and I basically had a panic attack. I was up most of the night, pacing the Airbnb and out on the balcony, feeling very unprepared and unsettled about the move. I was sick to my stomach for almost half of the days on that trip, and just felt off about the move.

All the excitement and peace I was expecting to feel were nowhere to be found. I was terrified. We ate at an Italian restaurant on the last night and couldn’t communicate at all with the server. I had a reality check of what it would be like committing to living in Italy for a year. At this point, I still thought we were going through with it, so I tried to console myself; I was probably just getting cold feet. “Everyone probably feels this way when they move,” I thought.

Italian Friday’s were not going well either. Every time we tried to do one, we ended up discussing the things we were worried about; we had concerns and were trying to push through them and get excited again, but the reality of living in Rome began to feel more like a burden than a dream. We stuck to the plan though, as we felt God pulling us towards this move, and He had been pushing us to leave Saskatoon for so long. We figured we must persevere.

As we were planning to go later in the fall due to the wedding, we planned to sell the house in the spring in order to get rid of all ties and all debt. I was using it as a test; if we sold the house, we’d move to Italy. If it didn’t sell, we wouldn’t. Our realtor came over, we picked a price range, he took photos, and said he’d be back in a couple weeks once the snow had melted to list it. A couple weeks later however, the comparables in our neighbourhood had dropped by $50,000! Our realtor said he’d never seen anything like that happen before, and he refused to even list it. We would take a loss on the house if we sold it, and it was my grandmother’s; he didn’t want us to go ahead, and told us to fix up the basement and rent it out instead (we have an amazing realtor that actually cares about us).

Selling the house was my test to see if we were really supposed to move to Italy! What now? Without listing it, there went that test. Even despite the sale of the house being my self-proclaimed confirmation on Italy, I felt extremely relieved. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to sell the house yet. I felt bad that my husband had to continue to maintain it, and I was concerned about finances, but I felt at peace knowing we were keeping it for now. (Looking back on it, we didn’t sell it, and we’re not actually going to Italy. Maybe God was hinting and/or clearly shouting at me about the destination, even then.)

New plan, again! This new plan was to rent out our house in June or July (at the latest), and live in our camper again to save money for our move. I was laid off from my teaching position in June. This was actually a huge answer to prayer for me! I was really dreading facing having to make a decision myself on taking another contract, or turning one down. In my city, if a teacher turns down a contract, it’s essentially career suicide. Jobs are nearly impossible to come by with thousands of grads piling up in town, and only a handful of positions open each year. By being laid off, I was able to move forward with no regrets, and it having been out of my control, and this was a major load off of my shoulders.

We also got rid of our truck. We couldn’t sell it, so we traded it for a BMW that we thought would be a quick and easy sell. (It wasn’t! I am still driving that car.)

We posted our house for rent on social media at the end of May, around the same time as we had the year before. We found our first tenants within 3 weeks last year, and I expected the house to go fast again. Despite the delay in selling the BMW, we were taking steps towards the move, finally! Except our house didn’t rent, and didn’t rent, and I really struggled with that.

…to be continued.

How We Planned to Move to Italy and Ended up Choosing New Zealand; Our Story Part 1

“Let’s move to New Zealand and work in the wine industry.” That’s something we just wouldn’t have said or even thought, but here we are. It’s crazy to me that this is what we’re planning now, because we never would have started there.

People have asked what God specifically said to us, but He didn’t just tell us the end goal; it’s been a slow progression of small steps from what we thought we wanted and what we were willing to get on board with, to where we’re headed now. We honestly may not even end up living or working where we think we will, but that will be okay, as long as we keep trusting and following God. We’ve learned that even at this point, God could still change anything, so we’ll just have to see what happens!

This is the story of what’s happened so far.

Shock has been the most common response when we’ve told people that we’re going to move to New Zealand. That’s fair; we’ve been dreaming of living in Italy for two years, and we told everyone that Rome was the plan. It was the plan, until God changed our minds at the last moment.

I used to think I’d never be willing to move away. I’ve learned to never say “never,” because typically when I say I’ll never do something, I end up doing it. God probably laughs in heaven and thinks, “oh Chelsea, you have no idea.”

When we got married over 10 years ago, we planned to always stay in Saskatoon. After all, our families are here, and we bought into the Saskatchewan mentality that you have to get a 9:00 to 5:00, buy a truck and car, buy a house, and tie yourself down with payments, and you should have all the kids too (but maybe on the 5 year plan since we got married young). Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with this plan if you’re most people, or if that’s actually what you dream of doing with your life. As we got older, and started experiencing different things, we realized that plan was wrong for us. Our cousins almost prophesied over us that we would move one day, and we started to realize that maybe we would be open to moving… like, a 6 hour drive away. Our minds were so small back then! Those same cousins once asked my husband if he could do anything in the world for work, and if money were no object, what would he do? He was stumped. He had no idea. For years, he had no idea.

You’d probably believe that almost everyone tried to convince us that settling in our city of birth was the only way of life… but we weren’t convinced. We just felt like settling here was just that – settling. We felt deeply that there was something more out there for us.

We started becoming interested in moving overseas somewhere after we took our first Europe trip in 2015. “The Travel Bug” is a real thing and we got it bad! House Hunters International inspires us. People do this. Every day, people move abroad. It’s possible. It eventually got to the point where we knew that if we didn’t make every attempt at this move abroad, we’d regret it for the rest of our lives. We’ve been back to Europe two more times, and we love it there, so when we decided to move, we naturally decided that somewhere in Europe should be our new home. But what would we do there?

I knew of job opportunities in the English teaching field, and as I am a teacher, I felt safe and secure with that choice. I graduated from a Teaching English as a Foreign Language course in the fall of 2017, and we picked Italy as our destination for several reasons. First, we had to pick somewhere. Second, we have been to Italy before, and love the culture, food, and scenery. We decided on Rome because my course advisers told me there are lots of jobs there, and it’s technically in a tropical climate. No winter! (Except it snowed there in 2017.) We didn’t know what my husband would do, though. He always joked he’d sell ice cream in the square. We also always said when people asked us where we would live that we were open to almost anywhere. We always said Rome, but we knew that it might not be Rome, and we were open to living anywhere we got jobs, really.

We used to dream about living in Italy. We would do “Italian Friday’s,” as we called them. My husband would cook an Italian dish, and we would have Italian appetizers and Italian wine, and we would dream together about what it would be like living there.

We rented out our house in the summer of 2017, and lived in our camper as a practice run. Could we live in a small space? (Not a problem). Could I survive with a smaller amount of my clothes and shoes, and no cable? (I did surprisingly well). What would it be like to rent out our house? (It went over plainly awful with some family members and friends, but our tenants were fantastic and a gift from God).

We planned to move to Rome in January of 2018, as that is one of the main hiring months for English teachers. (We were not sure how hopping the ice-cream-in-the-square business is at that time of year.)

Then, several things happened that made us feel we were supposed to be home for one more year. I was offered a renewal on my teaching contract, and the way it all worked out was nearly impossible that I should have had that job. Both of my sisters in law were expecting our two new nieces, and my brother in law, who had been single forever, was dating a girl we figured he’d marry. Our passports needed to be renewed in January, so it wasn’t a good time to leave, and our mortgage was up for renewal, also in January! A best friend invited me on a Maui trip in October to celebrate our 30th birthdays, and we decided to go, and used up our last bit of savings for that trip. So it was decided; we would stay all year, and go to Rome in September of 2018 (another prime hiring month).

…to be continued.

Living with the In-Laws; Week One

We’ve been living at my husband’s parents’ acreage for one week now, and so far so good! It’s been a very atypical week for our family, so we haven’t settled into any sort of normal routine.

A lot has happened this week! I had my birthday; it didn’t really feel like a birthday so much this year, but that’s life. My brother-in-law also got married, and my in-laws hosted both the rehearsal dinner and the gift opening dinner, with over 100 guests total. My husband was a groomsman, and we worked on his speech; we sang during the signing and practiced our song lots. I even helped my in-laws with some suggestions for their speech! We chose a date to move, booked our flights, applied for our Australian visitor and New Zealand working holiday visas, and were quickly approved for both. We announced our moving date and destination to our friends and family, and have had lots of conversations about the move. We saw most of our extended family due to the wedding festivities, and there were lots of guns, tannerite, quads and blowing up things, which are frequent family activities. So as I say, this was quite the week!

We moved in on my 31st birthday, so my husband and I had a nice wine and my birthday cheesecake in his brother’s childhood bedroom, across the hall from his parents. It was different than our living room, of course, but still comfortable.

I spent the weekdays doing what I usually do, minus tv, because they only have one channel. Instead of the usual morning show while I eat breakfast, I visited with my mother-in-law most mornings. This, in my opinion, was a better use of time than watching tv would have been anyways.

Something that stood out to me this week was how hard working my mother-in-law is. I got to witness her in action all week as she prepared food for both of the huge meals they were hosting. By the time I showed my face in the kitchen on Monday morning, she had already completed several batches of home made buns, and perhaps a few pies. When I got home later that evening, she was still in the kitchen, and had accomplished more pies and several lasagnas. Tuesday looked much the same, as did Wednesday afternoon once she returned from volunteering at a Mom’s group at our church.

She thinks she isn’t good at organizing and planing ahead, but she had pages and pages of lists of all her meal plans for each meal, and was working well ahead to get everything prepped in time. There were so many pies and cakes, salads, buns, meats, lasagnas and sides! She had even arranged for some friends to come and help serve during the rehearsal dinner so she could socialize with her guests.

As I write this, those two meals are done, but Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and the in-laws are hosting our family for that as well! The turkey literally had to come out of the freezer on the morning of the wedding! They amazed me this week with all of the money, effort and love that went into both of the wedding meals, and Thanksgiving. In the midst of all of this, she apologized to me for not putting on a birthday dinner to celebrate me. Let’s just say she’s completely excused!

As my in-laws kept showing up from each trip into town with more and more groceries, I’d ask what the new stuff was all for. “This is for Thursday, and this is for Saturday… no that’s for Thanksgiving.”

Oh and did I mention that they don’t have a dishwasher??? Yes. Everything gets washed and dried by hand here.

We’ve been busy with so many of our own things this week, but we’ve been able to step in and help a bit with prep and clean up, and hopefully we’ve made a bit of a difference for them.

Thankfully they also let us change the doorknob to our room with one that locks. We’ve had so many people in the house this week, that it’s nice to know I have one room, at the least, that’s my private space. I learned more than ever last summer when we lived in our camper out here, that I am a really private person. I value my privacy much more than I ever realized. In being a private person, I find sharing space is hard for me; I’m trying to be as respectful of their routines as possible, and they have been really good at giving us our space and alone time as well. I’m very aware that we are guests in their space, and I’m reminding myself to be grateful that we were welcomed in, to spend this last month at home with family.

A few of the guys ended up getting ready for the wedding in our room, so our teddy bears and string of Christmas lights will forever be in their photos!

I’m hoping for a quieter week ahead, and more relaxation time for all of us! This first week has sure been a whirlwind of activity, but we have seen a lot of our family. We won’t see them for a long time once we leave, and I’m already missing some of them. I have a lot to be thankful and grateful for.

Thanks for reading, blog family, and Happy Canadian Thanksgiving!

A Birthday to Remember; Moving out of our House!

It’s Saturday morning as I write this. Today is my last day to be 30! This has been a crazy year. I started it off living in my camper, and then going to Maui for the big day, and I’m ending it off moving out of the house again. This time, the goal is heading much farther than Maui, for much longer, with some pit stops bed surfing at the in-laws, my parents’ and some friends.

We struggled all summer to rent our house. We prayed and prayed, because we wanted tenants in the spring, so we could live in our camper all summer and save money for our planned move to Italy this fall. Along the way, through a series of events and lessons, we learned that we are actually not going to Italy; we’re planning to move to New Zealand! (There will be more blog posts coming on the details of how we got to that idea later.)

There are still a lot of unknowns, and I struggle with doubt, but overall, we are so excited! We’re excited about the rental, we are excited to move forward with the details of our plans, and we are excited for our new dream of living in New Zealand!

We signed our lease on September 25th, so this last week has been an incredible whirlwind of packing, sorting, cleaning and moving. We’ve done some painting around the house, gotten rid of lots of garbage and old furniture, and Greg has done some fixes and maintenance on little things that were overlooked in the past. We replaced the dishwasher, and our Moms came and helped me clean the place!

We donated 5 garbage bags of clothes and shoes to Community Living.

I packed the remainder of 2 entire closets into this bag.

On top of it all, I’m still turning 31 tomorrow, and pancake Saturday’s not going to make itself!

We’re hosting a birthday party this afternoon at a restaurant, and then a smaller dinner and wine tasting, at the house tonight for close friends and wine lovers. We’re spending our last night in the house hosting a meal, with wine and friends, for my birthday. It may be hectic, but that’s what makes me happy. I’ll just have to tell our guests that if they make a mess they need to clean it up!

Disposable plates, cutlery and cups were a must this time around, except for the wine glasses. We definitely need nice wine glasses, even if they require more work to be cleaned and re-packed.

On my birthday, I get to wake up early and move! These are two things I normally hate. I despise waking up early, and let’s be honest, who really likes moving? But this year, this is the perfect birthday gift. I’m so grateful the house is rented and we can move on with our planning and preparation for the move. This has been a big burden on my shoulders all spring and summer, and I’m so relieved that on my birthday, it is lifted.

… and I’m moving in with my in-laws on my 31st birthday! That’s kind of funny too.

Three Amazing Must-Do Travel Bike Tours

We love traveling, seeing the sights, and being active, so it’s no wonder we’ve chosen to do bike tours on several of our trips. I also appreciate efficiency, and getting some wheels can greatly increase the amount of ground that can be covered in a short amount of time! We’ve biked in many places of the world, but these three experiences are all somewhat or fully guided, have given us the best bang for our buck, have offered very scenic exercise opportunities, and have provided amazing memories that we will cherish for life.

The Paris Night Bike Tour – 4 hours

http://www.fattiretours.com offers it for $69.95 and I recommend booking well in advance or it will be sold out! It’s got a 5 star rating on their site and I’m not surprised, as it is absolutely fantastic.

This tour was recommended to me by a friend before I had been to Paris for the first time, as it’s a great way to get some bearings on the layout of some popular tourist spots, and some general information. I recommend doing the tour close to the beginning of your trip for that reason. We did it, loved it, and have recommended it ever since. My sister and her friends booked it on my recommendation and highly enjoyed it as well.

We arrived on time, just after supper, at the address given to us upon booking, where we met our tour guide. We were set up with bikes and safety vests that were adjusted to fit us properly, and then we were taught how to use the bike. Paris is a very busy city, and we were going to be driving on the roads, with the traffic, so our tour guide taught us how to drive as safely as possible and how to keep up with the group.

Disclaimer: If you have never ridden a bike before, I wouldn’t recommend a bike tour in any large city as the place to learn. You don’t need to be an avid biker, but you do need to have some pre-established comfort on a bike.

Once we were ready to go, we set off into the evening! We biked at a relatively quick pace, and stopped every so often to view a monument, take some pictures, and learn a bit about what we were seeing. We stopped at places like Notre Dame Cathedral, the Louvre, the Latin Quarter, and we even stopped for an ice cream at Berthillon, a place they claim is most famous in Paris.

Then we made our way to the river, where we locked up our bikes, and jumped on a boat for a Seine River Cruise. The river cruise is one of my absolute favourite things to do in Paris, as you can see so many of the city’s famous places from the water, sail under its intricately ornate bridges, and admire all the locals that gather to relax and socialize along the riverbank. The timing of the boat ride was perfect for us to see the sunset, and the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the dusk from the water.

Oh, and did I mention the bike tour guide gives you free wine on the boat ride? Yes. Free wine. As much as you want. 🍷✔️

Once we got off the boat, we resumed our biking, perhaps a little wobblier than before the free wine, and made one more stop to see the Eiffel Tower again before heading back to the Fat Tire shop.

What a fantastic use of 4 hours in Paris!

Brooklyn Bridge Bike Tour
in New York – 2 hours

http://www.centralparksightseeing.com offers this tour for about $45, depending on what time and day you’re going.

Nobody had recommended this to me, but I wanted to do a bike tour in NYC, for the same reasons as on other trips: we cover ground so quickly, we get to meet other people, and we get some information about what we’re seeing, all while being active!

We were almost late for this one as we got lost on the Subway (so leave earlier than you think you need to), but we got there just before our group left. They quickly fitted us with bikes and we were on our way with our tour guide.

We biked at a reasonable pace, but we also stopped quite frequently on this tour to learn for a couple of minutes about what we were seeing. We rode through several old neighbourhoods that were the beginnings of Manhattan, down by the harbour, through the south end of Broadway, and China Town, while learning about some of NYC’s history. We pedalled across the Brooklyn bridge, breaking for some photos on the top!

Then we explored Brooklyn Heights and learned about the bridge and the area, before heading to the water’s edge near Jane’s Carousel to get a fantastic view of Manhattan, the bridge, and of course, some photos.

We made our way back across the Manhattan Bridge before ending the tour back at the shop.

This was an affordable and very informative tour with a friendly, personable and knowledgeable tour guide (ours happened to also be a college professor who was passionate about his city’s history), that left us feeling like we learned and saw so much that we just couldn’t have on our own.

They offer many different bike tours other than this one, so if you’re interested in other areas of the city, or want to do more than one tour, you could learn and see a lot!

Biking the Vineyard Trails of Burgundy
in France – full day

We booked rental bikes ahead of time through http://www.burgundy-by-bike.com for the very reasonable price of €20/day.

My heart smiles when I remember this day. It was easily not only one of the best biking experiences, but the best travel experiences – I’ll even say best life experiences – I’ve ever had.

We had watched some YouTube videos and read a few articles in our preparation to visit Burgundy (Bourgogne in French) and we’d seen a few recommendations to do the bike trails through the vineyards. As we love wine, we were going for wine, and we enjoy biking, we knew this was an absolute must for us.

There are a few companies that do guided tours, but we chose to rent our bikes in the town of Beaune, follow the maps they gave us of the bike trails and winery stops, and go independently of a guide. We didn’t know how long we’d want to be out, but we didn’t want to be limited by a group for this one, and I’m glad we weren’t, because we took the whole day!

We were fitted to our bikes, and given great directions and a map to get us through Beaune, and onto the bike path. Our map also explained exactly how many kilometres apart each of the towns were, so we could decide if we wanted to go the full distance or not.

We had the most beautiful, magical day. This was my Disneyland! Biking through the vineyards of Burgundy is just breathtaking! For one, the views are stunning, and the history is ancient; these vineyards and wineries have survived wars, and the stories of the families are generations long. Secondly, Burgundy is not flat! Our breath was taken away many times on this hilly ride! We were there in June, and it happened to be a very hot, sunny day. There is little shade on the ride, so make sure you bring lots of water. There are a few towns that you can purchase food and water in along the ride as well.

We started off at the famous entry to the vineyards.

We rode through several towns in the morning, stopping at a small Chateau in Pommard for a wine tasting in their below ground cave.

It was stunning, but the details of this are for another article!

We then rode through the villages of Volnay, Monthelle, and into Mersault, where we bought some beer and water and had a picnic lunch in the town square. It was scenic and quaint, with the church tower chiming away noon, and the small shop keepers closing up to enjoy the lunch hour by the trickling fountain. The town was alive with locals on their daily routes, and other bikers like us, stopping to enjoy the moment and some rest in the shade.

Once we were finished our storybook perfect lunch, we headed on towards Puligny-Montrachet, where we did another wine tasting. We then biked to Chassagne-Montrachet and finally Santenay, before deciding to turn around. We enjoyed little stops along the way to look closer at the vineyards and take photos, as well as to observe the village homes and businesses.

We also made sure to stop and smell the roses!

Biking in Burgundy felt so picturesque, so peaceful and so surreal that I had to keep reminding myself that I was really there, and it was really happening! I soaked up every minute of the experience and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

We put on 40kms on the bikes that day, so we were pretty tired by the evening, and it was so worth it!

So there you have it; these are my top three biking memories. If you are ever in any of those places, I highly encourage you to take advantage of the opportunities, and all they can offer you!

Happy travels!

What’s Insta-inspiring You Every Day?

Instagram…an instant feed of photos that all say 1000 words. What are the words they’re saying to you?

Did your parents ever tell you, “garbage in, garbage out?” Mine did, and if that’s true, then putting healthy, positive, inspiring things in must surely lead to outputting the same.

I’ve noticed that what I read, watch and listen to can really affect my mood, or my thought patterns and mindset, especially over time. Some days, if we’re honest, we spend a lot of time with social media, and it’s influencing us in such a huge way, whether we want to admit it or not. There are tonnes of studies online now about the effects of things like Facebook and Instagram on our mental health, our relationships, our self-esteem, and more. I’m not against either of these programs, and I quite like them, but they can be used to create negativity or positivity, and we should be aware of what we’re putting into our minds.

For those of us that were raised without social media, we at least had our childhoods to live without serious FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). If we weren’t invited to the sleepover we may or may not have heard about it at school the following week. Now, we’re not only not invited, but we get to have all the cute pics of the girls living it up in their pj’s and face masks pushed in our faces at the exact moment it’s happening, reminding us that we weren’t important enough to be there ourselves. Those of us who grew up without social media also didn’t have a constantly available source of something to compare ourselves to, in order to see if we measured up. We had to compare ourselves to a smaller number of real people in our lives; now we compare ourselves to images of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, presenting the best sides of themselves. We take the number of likes on our photos as a direct representation of how many people value us.

With Instagram, Facebook, and so many other social media sites consuming a lot of our time, I believe we need to be careful of who we’re following, and how much time we’re investing in following them.

When I first got Instagram, I started following a bunch of different people, companies, brands, celebrities, fitness profiles, etc.. As I was scrolling through my feed day after day, I began noticing that what certain people were posting were leaving me feeling a variety of negative emotions.

Sometimes, I would see products that I didn’t have, that looked so nice and attractive, and then all of a sudden, my wardrobe or makeup items weren’t good enough anymore. I would see quotes feeding me the belief that I deserve to have everything I’ve ever wanted in life, because I’m worth it. These types of quotes are meant to be positive and inspirational, I’m sure, but upon reading them so often, suddenly, I wasn’t focusing on all of the things I have to be grateful for, but on the things I lack; I was feeling entitled to have more. I would see fitness models, and suddenly feel like I wasn’t strong enough, or that I needed to sculpt certain muscles more. I realized one day that I was choosing to follow these people; nobody forced me to look at their photos. I was in control of what I was putting in my mind, and I was coming away from social media feeling less than. Greedy. Ugly. Weak. Broke. Undeserving. Over-deserving. Unsatisfied. Ungrateful.

That was the day I decided to clean out my Instagram, and it’s time to do it again. I deleted all of the accounts that were posting things that left me uninspired, and decided to find accounts that inspired me. I started following different fitness people, that post real, genuine photos and share stories of their vulnerabilities and successes. I started following quotes accounts that post motivational quotes to work hard and achieve goals. I followed Bible verse accounts, and lots of travel accounts that show photos of places I have been, or want to visit one day. I noticed a big change in my mindset once I was more deliberate to start using Instagram as a tool to find inspiration, rather than mindlessly following anyone and everyone.

To quickly address the issue of FOMO, I’m not sure how it can really be avoided, if we want to follow people we know in our communities. I know lots of kids and teens with social media are experiencing it, and honestly, I’ve experienced it as an adult too, more than once. It just plain sucks to see others doing something that you wish you were a part of. As much as I don’t like it, I know that I’ve been the instigator of this too; I’ve posted photos of me with a couple of girlfriends and led other girlfriends to be hurt that they weren’t invited. (I’m still sorry for this.)

Readers, this is where I would love to get the discussion going. I really want your opinions on this issue! Please comment with your experiences if you feel comfortable.

I think there are two sides to handling this feeling/fear of missing out. In certain sensitive situations, we need to be careful of what we’re posting, and try to be mindful of how we may affect someone else. As the viewer, these feelings might be something we have to work on in our relationships. If the relationship matters enough, and is a quality one, a conversation about the post should clarify the situation, and solidify the relationship. If it’s not the type of relationship that lends to a conversation, then it may be something we need to work on in ourselves; we may need to find ways to increase our sense of self worth. This is a big topic, and I don’t have the answers for this, but I’m curious to read your thoughts.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you find ways to make your social media apps Insta-inspire you!

How My Laundry Room Became a Brewery, and My Backyard a Tire Storage Facility

I remember the night I picked a fight with my husband about the laundry room. I distinctly remember saying something like, “it’s our laundry room, NOT your brewery!” I look back on that now, and laugh at myself. I’m thankful he was so patient with me at the time. There are things that are worth fighting over, and there are things that just aren’t. I realize now, that the ratio of washer/dryer square footage to brewing equipment in the laundry room is something that just isn’t worth it. I learned an important lesson after pondering what happened within me that night to cause my anger. I seemed to think that I had more rights to our laundry room than he did, but that’s just it – it is our laundry room, not mine.

Let’s back up a bit. I’ll fill you in on my husband’s hobbies. He’s had a lot of them throughout the length of our marriage, and most haven’t stuck for more than a few years. It’d be fair to say we regret spending money on some of them now, but he was learning and exploring, and they were important to him at the time. (I’ve regretted purchases too.) So when he was gifted some beer making supplies and decided he’d take it up, I assumed it would be one of those hobbies that he’d do once or twice, and then let fall along the wayside.

I was wrong. He is passionate about brewing.

Years, and dozens of home-brewed IPA’s, honey-browns, and English bitters later, he’s got a sizeable brewery in our home, and is constantly stunning tasters of his beer with how great they are. His friends are benefiting from his generosity and love of sharing his craft with anyone who appreciates it.

He used to take over our kitchen for a day to complete the brewing process, and leave our entire house smelling like sweet malt. People would ask me, “don’t you hate that he makes your whole house smell like a brewery?” I didn’t actually. Or they’d ask, “how come you let your husband take over your whole kitchen for that?”

Although some hobbies were costly, he made money with others – his “side-hustles” as he likes to call them. He’s very gifted and can fix almost anything. He’s also patient in dealing with online shoppers from our local used items listing website; he has a small hobby of taking old, broken things, fixing them up, and selling them at low prices for quick turn-over.

At one point, a few years ago, we had close to 50 used tires in our backyard. I mean, they were everywhere! I borrowed a bunch to take to school for an obstacle course for the kids once; we even threw a Cross-fit themed birthday party for a friend and used them for challenges and a winner’s podium! Again with the comments, and from the guys too! “My wife would never let me keep junk like that in our backyard.” “How do you get her to let you fill your backyard with all those tires?” That’s sad to me, that my guy friends felt that way about their wives.

In his brewing craft, he started where most probably do, with beer kits. Then, he transitioned to doing a few more steps on his own, and after his beer club informed him that if he’s using any part of a kit, he can’t really call it home-brew, he went 100% from the grain. He literally buys a big bag of malted barley, grinds it himself, and does it completely from scratch. The kitchen was no longer sufficient. As he just happens to also be a custom welder, he spent the next year building a huge custom brewery in our basement laundry room. He’s got 3 massive tanks that he welded, a custom counter and sink, heating systems, an electrical panel to run all of this, piping that hooks up to our laundry venting to the outside to eliminate the steam, numerous other equipment, and hundreds of bottles.

Needless to say, the laundry room is no longer a laundry room; we have a brewery with a washer and dryer in it.

We have a clean and empty backyard now that he’s out of the “tire side hustle,” but there were years when we barely had a backyard; we had a used tire storage facility behind the house.

Fast forward to the laundry room argument… pointless. It’s not my laundry room, it’s our laundry room. Can I wash clothes in there? Maybe not while he’s brewing, but that’s where communication comes in. It’s not my backyard, it’s our backyard. Could I have hosted a beautiful garden party with all those tires out there? Maybe not, but I hosted a pretty sweet birthday party and made the best of it.

So many women carry this idea that the house is their domain; at the very least, the kitchen, laundry room, and back garden are theirs. The guys can have the garage, or the shed, or maybe some back room in the basement, where guests can’t see when they come over. I don’t know why we think this, or why this idea is passed on to us by other women. I don’t know why I just fell into that belief too, without even paying attention to it or questioning it. I’ve realized over the years, that thinking this house is mine, because I’m the wife, isn’t very selfless or loving. He doesn’t tell me I can’t park in the garage because he works in there; it’s our garage. He doesn’t complain about the living room clock that’s a bright red high heel (it’s not tacky at all people, it’s a designer marble clock we picked up in Venice); in fact, he suggested we hang it there so I can see it every day. We’ve also hung his motorcycle calendars in the kitchen.

It’s not my house, it’s our house. And in this house, it’s about sharing, and compromising, and making this home a place that we both can put our stamp on, and that we both feel at home in.

I don’t know what this guy of mine is going to get into next. I expect he’ll keep up the brewing, because he’s great at it, and he loves it. I hope he finds more money-making hobbies, cause what’s not to love there? Either way, he’ll be welcome to use our home, for what he needs it for, with no trouble from me; in return, I know I’ll be extended the same courtesy.