Would It Really Be All That Bad?

So, if we can actually afford a spit of land in the California Central Coast area (our last trip would probably not be called "encouraging"), there is a 1 in 1 chance that we will have just enough money to crawl onto our property with the fumes left in our tank, and then cozy on in to our 23", 1963 (both those numbers are probably wrong) Airstream. Here is what it looks like as of yesterday in Laguna Canyon.
I know the photo is super fancy (god bless super fancy smart phones), but still...would living in this cute little thing really be that bad?

And here is the backside in Joshua Tree a few months back...

Some Darn Good Advice From My Posts Thus Far...

Nat C. wants me to make sure not to "move to where the corn fields are." Very thoughtfully, she doesn't want us getting attacked by the "children of the corn." What would I do without you, Nat? Well, probably get attacked.

Magali is a true animal lover: "Don't move anywhere too cold or too hot. If it's too cold, your cows will freeze. If it's too hot, your sheep will sweat." Enough said.

Sophie is a country gal at heart, too. Thanks to her knowledge of the farm life, I now know about "Hobby Farms" magazine. It is amazing to me that there is literally a magazine for everything. Thanks, girl. I'm on it!

On the Hunt...

So as promised, I am posting an update about our recon mission in the San Luis Obisbo area this week (though we've been here 3 days already and this is my first post, so I'm doing a pretty shoddy job thus far). We are up here with our two small dogs and Jack's sister and brother-in-law with their three HUGE dogs, camping in our Airstreams at a place called Lopez lake. And this explains my lack of postings; this lake is miles and miles from anywhere. My freaking smart phone doesn't even work. It's cold, smells like fall, looks like a landscape painting by one of the American Romantics, and I have seen no less than 15 deer, 139 cows, 37 horses, 13 gigantic turkeys (don't think they realize it's Thanksgiving), 24 ducks, 17 quail (those freaking birds fly fast), and I guess because it's a campground for trailers, about 100 dogs and exactly 1 cat.
Yesterday we drove all over the Arroyo Grande countryside, literally stopping at every single "For Sale" sign we passed. Because we are looking for a good sized property, none of the signs are anywhere close to the actual house/property (they are posted on the main highway otherwise no soul on earth would ever see them), so you have to turn up the road and drive, sometimes for miles on one-lane roads, to find what is actually for sale, which will be marked by another "For Sale" sign. The weird thing about those signs around here, though, is that out of driving up about 13 roads, we literally only saw two...TWO...signs. So after driving on dirt roads to the end of the earth 13 times, our diligence and long suffering resulted in two finds, one of which looked like a hideout for serial killers.
Perhaps tomorrow we will have more luck. Damn back country realtors.