Seasonal Survival Guide
©
or How to Live and Eat and Other Mundane Stuff.
Chapter 4.
Stuff you probably should have.
Working and moving seasonally is a great way to prioritize the stuff you need and the stuff you want.
After we returned from our first gig in North Dakoooota, I came home and
really de-stashed clothes and crap. I made a firm pact with myself that if I bought new clothes, a similar item would have to go to the Goodwill. And if I bought a new something else, like a kitchen gadget, it would be a good quality one, not the cheap crap that would just break and need to be replaced. Conversely, if it was cheap and sturdy that would do over a pricey one of so-so quality.
I am also in the situation that none of my children will be having children, so there's not a lot of need to invest in good stuff to pass on to them. The boys will be living in group home situations and BadAmy and L have lots of their own funky stuff. My nieces and nephews will be the ones sorting out and selling my crap when I go toes up. I'm hoping not to put them in the position our elders put us in when they passed. All of them had lots of stuff, and being children of the depression, lots of it was crap. My Mom, for example, kept every mayo jar she ever purchased. God only knows why, but they had perceived value to her. DH's Mom had food in her basement pantry that was literally canned 50 years ago. Arg. And we won't even go into the stuff Aunt Ruth had. Interestingly, DH's older Bro had no concept that his parents' and aunt's stuff actually had antique value. He chucked a lot of stuff in the dumpster that actually did have some worth. Sigh.
So to make a short story long, for seasonal life, you need the basics and you need some stuff for your mental health. This post will be about stuff you might actually need~~real stuff.
Even though we travel with four
::weepy face again, since FTD is staying in Ohio this summer:: er, three people, you'll still need about the same amount of cooking stuff that we do. One of the odd things is that since you'll likely be farther from restaurants--make that restaurants you can
afford--you'll be eating more of your own cooking. If that scares you, get a gig in an actual city.
Of course you'll need
a plate, a mug, a glass, and silver ware. In reality, one of each will do ya.
A pot to boil water, pasta, soup, ramen noodles.
Cooking utensils like a big spoon, spatula, scooper of some kind.
Some kind of casserole dish. (You'll need to learn to use the oven... I'm always surprised at the number of younger rangers who can't 'cook' anything that doesn't go into the microwave.)
Dish towel or two.
Hot pad/mitts.
Kitchen stuff you should think about lugging with:
toaster or toaster oven,
microwave.
At THRO, the Theodore Roosevelt Nature and History Association purchased microwaves for the seasonal apartments, which was super wonderful, cuz those puppies hog up a lotta packing space. We got to Acadia and found out there wasn't one, so we purchased a nicer one, and only use it for the 'cabin,' where ever the cabin may be. Lots of folks buy a cheap one, and leave it. Sadly, it will get put in the unwanted crap pile of NPS. Others give them to thrift shops when they leave. You can also cook most microwaveable foods in the oven--a fact which shocks lots of people who weren't around in the pre-micro wave world. And here's a surprise, you can make coffee with a pan, too.
Luxury items:
Coffee pot (we switched to the stove top kind, since there's no counter space for the electric one.)
Wine glasses. Ours are plastic, since most our wine is consumed around a campfire. (Geeze, that's pretty high on my list, ain't it?)
Baking wares--muffin pans, loaf pans, etc..
A couple of sets of tableware, if you can't get into the habit of washing your one and only set after each meal.
Dish drainer. If you don't have one, you can dry your stuff on a towel.
And in the spirit of true confessions, our family uses a lot more paper products than I wish we did. The simple fact is that I'm so pooped when I get home from work that doing dishes just doesn't sound like, you know, fun. The environmentalist in me has a hissy every time I pull out a paper plate or bowl, but the Mom in me is relieved. It's a tough place to live sometimes. I rationalize by saying to myself that the energy/resources needed to wash dishes is probably the same as that of making, then tossing paper ones. We have become obsessive compulsive about keeping the biodegradable stuff that the restaurants in YNP use. By the end of the summer, we have a nice stash. We only buy the Wilcoxson's Moose Tracks to replenish our supply of spoons. Honest.
Other household stuff you'll need includes a broom and mop of some sort. I've become a true believer in Libman stuff. My new favorite is the $20 mop thingie that can use any type of cleaner (I use clear water, crazy I know) and it has re-usable, machine washable pads. No having to find the right brand to fit your swiffer or whatever. There will be a broom somewhere in your apartment complex, but it will leave more dirt that it sweeps up, guaranteed. If you hunt around long enough, or have a great friend in the maintenance department, you'll have access to a vacuum. Don't count on it actually working, though. We've been through several types of small vacuums and still aren't really happy with any of them. One of these days we'll break down and get a better one.
Other living stuff:
Mandatory:
Battery operated alarm clock. At YNP, the power goes out at least once a week. Since our cell phones don't work so they go dead after "searching for service." Don't rely on it. Get a battery one, really.
Clothes hangers. Doh.
Shoe polish. Cordovan. Seriously.
Bare minimum: Sleeping bag and pillow.
Not so bare: set of linens for full size bed.
Luxury: set of cotton sheets and set of flannel ones. Pretty important at YNP.
Greatest luxury: Memory foam bed topper, as thick as you can afford. Waffle foam at the minimum.
Bare minimum: Bath towel and wash cloth.
Not so bare: Two of each.
Luxury: bathroom rug. Keeps those toesies warm on those cold mornings.
Greatest luxury: It all matches and didn't come from Goodwill.
Bare minimum: bath mat for the tub or shower.
Not so bare: shower caddy.
Luxury: one that looks nice.
Greatest luxury: It all matches and didn't come from Goodwill.
You can probably get by with no iron. We haven't lived anywhere where an ironing board was available, but I think there should be one in each laundry room. If you're careful, you can pull your uniforms out of the dryer and hang them up right away to keep the wrinkles at bay. Throwing them on the floor after work and expecting them to look okay the next morning ain't gunna happen. I found an ironing board at the Goodwill and bought a new cover for it, but it's for my sewing projects! I also have a spiffy Rowenta travel iron.
More luxuary stuff:
A tablecloth. I actually have several. It warms the apartment up nicely. And I have a couple of outside picnic ones.
Curtains. They're a pain to put up every summer, but they make the place so much homier.
Pictures/photos/posters. Be careful how you hang them.
There's lots of ways to save space/weight for packing, too. Our tableware is all Melamie, and our glasses are plastic. (Oh, how I love that first sip of water from a nice glass glass, and dinner on real china when I get home.) One of our ranger peeps stops at the Goodwill on the way into town and and picks up a couple of pieces of nice china for the summer. It's always really pretty. At the end of the season, she donates it back!
Kids who have been living in college dorms have a better time of living on less than folks like me. As I've said before, going from our spacious home to our tiny apartment is a trip.
Next up, stuff to bring for your mental health.