Adults Only

What Happened

I’m going to share with you a part of my life that I, until now have kept to myself. It’s actually the reason I started this business and was supposed to only last a short time (under a year) but is going on more than 2 years now, which is why I’m choosing to tell my story now.

On February 4th, 2024, we had a massive atmospheric river event roll through my little mountain town. I’m talking serious weather—the kind that makes the trees bend in ways they’re not supposed to. A huge Douglas Fir on my neighbor’s property went down, and in a domino effect, took down two of my trees with it, as well as sheared off huge redwood branches. Two trees completely uprooted, one broken in half, and a dozen more had branches that were like javelins falling from the sky. I was home with my roommate Bobby at the time. Only one of us is still here today.

I don’t say that lightly. Bobby was here. He was part of our home, part of our everyday life. And then he wasn’t.

When those trees fell, they didn’t just take Bobby from us—they destroyed the house. I mean totaled it. The structural damage was so severe that the insurance company basically said the whole thing needed to come down. A rebuild, from the foundation up. Not a repair. A complete rebuild.

Where I am Now

So here’s where I’m at now: I’m living in a trailer on the property until the home is rebuilt—something I anticipated to take a year maybe, but is going on over two years now. This is what my life looks like after the storm. When people drive by and see the property, they see a trailer park. They don’t see the work happening underneath—the permits being processed, the engineering plans, the slow steady path toward rebuilding an actual house where the old one stood.

NOTE: I host out of a separate location – an airbnb.

The county piece has been complicated. My original house was built to older standards—which means it didn’t meet current code. So now that I’m rebuilding, the county sees it as a remodel first, rebuild second, which creates this weird legal limbo. I’m essentially building a new house on the foundation of the old one, but the permitting system treats it like renovation work. Add to that the fact that my property sits on a sensitive hillside, and suddenly I’m dealing with Tree Protection Plans, root buffer requirements, replanting restrictions, and a whole layer of environmental compliance that wouldn’t have been there if this were just roof damage.

There are forms I’ve never heard of. Exhibits for exhibits. A TPP (Tree Protection Plan) narrative that gets filed as Form PLG-235 with exhibits for fencing, root buffers, prohibited staging zones. The county CDI process has timelines, and those timelines don’t always sync with insurance timelines or contractor availability. I’m managing engineering consultants, getting pre-clearance for work phases, making sure I’m in compliance with county requirements that shift depending on which department is reviewing the paperwork on a given week.

And I’m doing all of this from a trailer. Taking calls with the county, emailing back and forth with my engineer, coordinating permits and inspections, while I’m living in 300 square feet. It’s administrative work meets bureaucracy meets trying to have a normal life.

What I’ve learned through this—and what I want you to know—is that the people around me have been incredible. When something this devastating happens, you find out who shows up. Friends have helped navigate the county system. My engineer has been patient with the requirements. My community has rallied in ways that honestly keep me going on the harder days. I have had some wonderful clients that have donated to help meet back on my feet. 

I’m not going to pretend this has been easy, because it hasn’t. There have been days where I feel the weight of all of it—the loss, the displacement, the county paperwork, the uncertainty of inspection schedules and permit timelines. But there have also been moments where I’ve felt incredibly supported, and that’s made all the difference.

Moving Forward

So if you’ve wondered why things look different here, now you know. This is my living situation. This is what county code compliance looks like when your house is destroyed. And while I’m working toward rebuilding—literally and figuratively—I’m also learning to navigate a system designed for simpler problems than mine.

More than anything, I’m grateful. For the people who stayed. For the community that showed up. For the possibility of rebuilding something that meets code, respects the land, and might actually survive the next storm. And lastly, for the clients that have helped keep me financially afloat.

So now you know!