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One more confirmation this week and with that post title:

Yes, indeedy,  I am one of those strange, childless people.

Stop snickering.

Case in point:  it’s October in southern Canada.   The leaves have tarnished to beautiful shades of russet, scarlet, sunflower and indigo and the darkness has started descending before 7:00 pm.  That’s right around the time my body starts poking me with messages of “why aren’t we in bed?  It’s dark!  Darkness means we should be in bed!”

Flower decal on our boler

Flower decal on our Boler travel trailer. Practical Man tolerates this flourish with only minor rolling of eyes

My body is rather bossy when it comes to sleep. October also means that the time for hot summer nights with the sunroof open and the music loud, having my summer romance with my car is over, over, over.

Our vintage Fiat 500 has to snore away the winter in a cozy building (luckily, it only takes a tiny, tiny corner). 1970 Fiat 500 No more waking up in the morning to open my eyes and admire the inside of our pudgy Boler travel trailer, resplendent in its vintage loveliness.

No air conditioning, tiny bed, avocado green appliances.  A world of retro goodness all wrapped up in an adorable fibreglass shell. boler Love it, love it. This summer has been busy, what with re-building after the fire last November and the giant mole that’s been digging holes all across our lawn.

At least, I think it’s a giant mole.

trench

A very large rodent has apparently been digging in our lawn

It looks a lot like Practical Man grinning, atop a borrowed Kubota tractor, as he digs a ditch for a new power cable to the shop building.

All too soon, it will be winter.  My vintage babies will be stowed away in their buildings, like hibernating bear cubs.

I picture them snoring which is perhaps unlikely, but so cute.

Boler in tent

Doesn’t our Boler look lonely?

There they snore and sleep and sigh the winter away, cozy and warm.  But, not as accessible to my every whim of affection.

The season of separation has barely begun but already I need to visit them, way across the yard, near the forest and all the nature.

And, possibly a man-eating cow.

I make the treacherous journey and then, I sit in them.  I talk to them.  I giggle a lot.

In the Boler, I dance and lounge on the couch and sometimes pretend I am Laurie Partridge from The Partridge Family.

Boler couch/bunkbed

This couch turns into a bunk bed suitable for people who are not 5’9 like I am

Shoop, shoop.  Sometimes, Zzzzzz, Zzzzz, if it’s nearly dark and my bossy body is insisting I should be in bed.

In the Fiat, I review double clutching (and sweat a bit about my first attempts at this next summer) and caress the steering wheel a little.

fiat dashboard

Look at that sophisticated dashboard!

Okay, there might be some kissing involved.

But just on the door.

And the roof.

Strictly first base stuff.

I l-o-o-o-ve my vintage babies.  I love real babies too.  But, weird and childless as I am, I have noticed that vintage babies don’t grow up, leaving me in their newly-sophisticated dust. Vintage babies stay cute and portly, forever.

Even when they look slightly nose-y when shot at an angle that does not elevate their best features.

Fiat - moustache view

The fiat’s “moustache” view, complete with dent. Re-built workshop will be the scene of much TLC and pampering of our little Fiat this winter.

Zzzzzzzzzzz.   Can’t wait for Spring.

Copyright Christine Fader, 2013.  Did you enjoy this post from A Vintage Life?    Share on Facebook       Tweet         You might also like my latest book.

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I mentioned the other day that our kitchen cupboards are over full.  I offer you Exhibit A (with random modern dishes removed, in case you’re wondering why there’s space):

the inside of my cupboards, full of vintage pyrex

Our cupboards are full with–if you’ve been paying attention–practical things like cheese slicers, scales and oatmeal and stuff.

Not vintage Pyrex and melamine dishes.  Nuh unh.  As you can see, once you take the boring stuff out, there’s plenty of room.

None of that matters though, because you won’t believe it–I mean I can barely believe it myself–but I did it:

I edited a cupboard.

Not one in the kitchen, but that’s beside the point.

You may recall that we have a 1974 Boler trailer.  It is a full 13 feet of vintage delight.  I loooove it in a way that is annoying to others, I’m sure.

The diner/bed inside our 1974 Boler

The diner/bed inside our 1974 Boler

Anyway, I realized suddenly as I was stacking and piling in the kitchen to no avail that no wonder my melamine bowls didn’t fit.  Pyrex is for inside.  Melamine is perfect for camping in a 1974 trailer.  Those dishes belonged in the Boler, of course!

The Boler that I loooove.

With joy in my heart, I trundled out to the Boler, but when I got there, the cupboards were…mysteriously…over full.

I’m sure it’s not my fault.  Right, because when we bought it from the previous owners (who had owned it since new), we inherited all its contents, including Maplex and Duraware dishes.

Plus, the Boler “kitchen” is REALLY tiny.  I like to call it “bijou”, because I’m slightly addicted to alliteration.  A “bijou Boler” sounds great, doesn’t it?

Anyway the kitchen only consists of 4 cupboards and one drawer.  Not even cupboards really.  They’re more like bread boxes.  Yes, four bread boxes and a cookie tin.  So bijou.

boler kitchen

Our Boler “kitchen”, complete with homemade trays to cover sink and stove top and give us more counter space.

And, the cupboards were chock-a-block with the necessary dishes (we have to eat, don’t we?) as well as things coveted by Practical Man, like flashlights and bungee cords.

So, they were full and I’m pretty sure that, as usual, it was not my fault.  Still, I decided I had to edit.  Somebody had to go and the dishes outnumbered the flashlights by 20 to 1.

I felt like a judge on The Voice or American/Canadian/Pop Idol.  I had to choose between my favourites.  It was heart-wrenching.

Before I could do the dastardly deed, I had to psych myself up.  First, I had a little nap on the oh-so-stylish Boler couch:

Boler couch/bunkbed

It converts to a bunk bed for people who are not strapping women of 5’9″, like I am:

bunk beds in the Boler

Then, I pretended I was drinking chicory coffee and had Laurie Partridge hair out of 1974.

Then, I shoop-shooped and sang a few rounds of “C’mon, get happy” (Composed just for the Boler, I’m sure,  because who wouldn’t be happy lounging in the 1974 Boler that I looove?!)

Then, I admired the new cups and plates I was about to put in the cupboards, again.  All the while, I tried not to think about the pitiful cries from the little brown plates that hid behind the Boler kitchen doors.  Little brown plates, you’re so, so sweet but you’re just not my colour.  I don’t really loooove you.

Sorry.

But these make me a little giddy:

fern pattern on melamine plates

Not so giddy for the grey and white vintage Tupperware coffee mugs (replaced with more cheerful and vintage-reminiscent harvest gold, orange and avocado green):

tupperware cups for the Boler

Finally, after my napping and chicory coffee and hair and shooping and singing, I was ruthless.  I edited.  I was the Simon Cowell of cupboards.

Sort of.

In addition to being a terrible haggler, I am also not ruthless…even about inanimate objects.  The ones that didn’t make the cut to keep were given away to a good home:  I have re-ignited the collecting bug in my friend, Shades.

Her husband loves me even more now.

But never mind because today, all is right in the Boler.  And now, there’s even room for Practical Man’s flashlights.

I’ll get to the kitchen cupboards in the house one of these days.  Right now, I’m celebrating with another round of “C’mon Get Happy” .  Tra-la-la, shoop-shoop.

A flashlight makes a great microphone.

Our Boler

Our Boler – what colour do you think we should paint it? I’m thinking flowers (of course). Practical Man is thinking anything that will allow him to drive without wearing a mask to disguise his identity.

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