Seasons

One of the things that Ben and I both firmly believe is that everyone should start out marriage and/or adulthood poor.  Like, really really poor.  As in you can tell stories about how crazy your life was "back then" because of how ghetto your life was.

So the picture above is that of our first home, which we have mentioned on our blog a few times.  We lovingly (HONESTLY!) called it "The Ghetto Shack."  So I'm going to take a minute and record a few things about it because it would seriously be a shame if I ever stopped remembering where we came from.

It was about 400 square feet.  It was actually in Sugar City, just outside of Rexburg, and it sat in the middle of farmland.  Our "front yard" was hundreds of acres and miles of potato fields that put nothing in between us and the Tetons, so every morning we had breathtaking views when we walked out our front door.  Our backyard was fenced in and sometimes our landlord would keep his horses back there.  So we'd go back and spend time with them, because, hey, when's the next time we're ever going to have horses in our backyard?  We also had a tree house back there, and a stream -- except it wasn't a stream, it was just an irrigation ditch, but to me, it was "my stream."  It was RIDICULOUSLY COLD.  As in, stick your feet in there for 5 minutes and you'll be hobbling home because you can't feel your feet. 

Sounds pretty ideal, huh?  I didn't even mention that it was only $400/month. 

But...... it was called "The Ghetto Shack" for a reason.  It was old.  Really, really old.  The front had some remodeling done, so you can't tell from the outside.  The ceilings were only 7 feet tall and Ben had to duck to walk between rooms.  In the winter time we could hear mice running through the walls and in the summertime we had hobo spiders living in the drain of our shower.  Thank goodness our shower curtain was clear because there were many times when I would get in, already be wet, and see a palm sized black blur behind the curtain and I'd jump right out and have to drown it.  Because of the remodeling, the hallway that linked the kitchen/living room to the door was c-shaped, which meant we couldn't get our sofa in.  So Ben had to saw it in half and sew it back up together just to get it in.  Our sofa and our love seat had to overlap to have room for each other.  And when it was hot (of course no A/C) we would stick to the green vinyl couches and our clothes would turn green.  Speaking of green, our range (from the 60's or 70's) was the infamous "avocado green."  It had a twist dial as a timer, and we were so scared of that thing being radioactive that we sacrificed literally half of our counter space to buy a new microwave.  In the winter time we could stand pretty much anywhere in the house, and feel the breeze from the negative temperatures outside.  Did I mention that that winter we got 2 actual-factual blizzards?  The drifts out in the country would sometimes go over our truck when we would have to attempt to drive through them.  For that itty-bitty house, we ended up paying $200/month to heat it.  We also didn't have trash cans and we had to take our trash to the dump ourselves.  So we bought a huge rubbermaid container and put our trash bags in there.  When they wouldn't fit we would put them on top and schedule a trip to the dump.  Almost every time we had trash on top, our neighbors dogs (a Chihuahua and a Yorkie) would run through the little hole in the fence that separated our houses, and rip open the bags and spread the trash when we weren't home.  But one day I was home, and I just watched.  I don't know why I didn't stop them, but it was worth it.  We had been given a whole fish from a family friend (well, he gave us TONS of fish really, but this just happened to be the one fish we accidentally let go bad), and it ended up in the trash on top of the bin.  I saw that little Yorkie get that frozen foot long fish in its mouth and try to go through that little hole in the fence with it.  It kept banging into the fence because the fish was too big (and rock hard).  Over and over again that dog would get knocked over.  Eventually it gave up, but it left me laughing. 

Oh the memories of that place.  We knew we'd have to leave since I was pregnant and that it wasn't the right kind of environment for a baby (mice and hobo spiders anyone?).  But Ben and I still crack up about that place, how wonderfully ghetto it was.  We seriously wouldn't change ANYTHING. 

Four years later, we live in our first official house.  It is definitely not ghetto.  And it's definitely not a shack.  I love this place, because it's more than I ever dreamed I would have at this stage of my life.  I have to remind myself that buying a house at 22 is so so so lucky.  In this house, Ben has a garage all to himself.  I have no desire to be in there so it's all his workspace -- quite the improvement since his last workspace was always the bed of his truck.  I have the kitchen of my dreams and the kids each have their own room.  Plus, now we have the castle and a garden.  Sometimes I feel like I have too much, but then I remember that Ben and I don't have cable.  We don't even own bunny ears.  We've decided to give up TV completely.  It's not a need, it's a want for us.  We only have one cell phone and no land line.  We keep a strict budget, we buy in bulk, and we're careful with what money we do have. 

For everything, there is a season.  And just like I love how seasons change throughout the year, I love how seasons change throughout life (although sometimes hurricane season, literally and figuratively, kind of sucks).  I'm so happy we had our ghetto season so that we were able to get to the point we're at now and be oh so grateful for the circumstances we're in.