Using excess, decoration, kitsch, camp, dress-up, drag, anxiety, crying, and humor is how I navigate my life. I want to gently poke fun at adulthood, by relating and confessing how I'm doing it wrong. The camper is the stage for my "home" and all of the glittered thrift store objects stand in for nice new ones. In paying for materials and my time, I probably could have just as well bought the pretty new version at the big box store. But do they accept my jumbo-sized checks?
