Live-Aboards

Live-Aboards

Mike and I once lived on a boat. If you leave the story there, it sounds a bit romantic.

We moved onto the boat because it was cheap and we could no longer afford our apartment. We needed to buckle down and curb our rising debt.

We were young, childless, in college, waiting tables. Three hundred bucks a month sounded great.

The boat wasn’t functional. It’s not as if we spent our days off cruising the California coastline.

The boat didn’t have electricity, but we ran a power cord from the dock to a space heater we kept down below so that we wouldn’t freeze to death.

The boat didn’t have a working sink. The boat didn’t have a toilet

(The boat had a bucket).

When we wanted to use bathroom facilities (beyond that of a bucket), we walked to the public restrooms at the marina.

The boat leaked from all sides. What I mean by that is that rain would seep in from the ceiling and the walls. And since the bilge pump stopped working one night, we stepped into a deep puddle of water on the floor (where we stored our clothes).

Like I said. All sides.

People we knew began to search for delicate ways to tell us that we smelled of mildew.

Our general state of being could be described as damp.

The damp permeated not only our clothes, but our hair, our skin, our pores.

Since then, we’ve stayed on ferryboats. In camper vans, jungle lodges, tents, and questionable hostels.

The boat seems like it was good preparation for our future marriage, a boot camp in adaptability.

Which turns out is a pretty useful skill for married couples. Maybe that should be a prerequisite before marriage; live in a tiny home that leaks for a few months before saying “I do.”

Boat life was a lot of things. It was difficult and unique and survivable; there were even times when, for a moment, it was romantic. (But did I mention the bucket?)

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Giving Back

Amanda and Mike launched an Impact Club in their hometown of Boise, Idaho in 2017, and have had a blast gathering like-minded individuals, families, and organizations to make significant impact in our community, raising over $200,000 locally and over $1.5 million nationally.

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About Us

We are Mike and Amanda Turner, founders of “The Business of Us.” We are fierce advocates of helping entrepreneurial couples and families improve their lives, livelihoods, and legacies… READ MORE

In the Kitchen

In the Kitchen

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach (and then, I believe, up through the chest cavity). But Mike did not marry me for my cooking skills. When we got together, I could prepare three meals: Tuna Helper, ramen noodles, and Kraft macaroni and cheese.

Even these I managed to screw up. Too much milk in the mac & cheese would leave it soupy; ramen noodles left on three minutes past their three-minute cook time; and Tuna Helper… well. It’s sad that that was even on my go-to list.

I was not good at producing substanance. If you’re not familiar, substanance is a common Turnerism. They came up with it by combining substance + sustenance. As in, “I’m really hungry; I need some substanance.”

Mike cooked more than I did in the beginning, probably because he couldn’t stomach much more of what I was putting on the table. But eventually I decided that I wanted to improve.

I bought the Better Homes New Cookbook. It’s a classic, the one with a background of a red and white checked tablecloth. It had basic recipes and was a great starting point.

A few friends knew what a disaster I was in the kitchen, so they bought me a bunch of kitchen gadgets. I remember staring at a garlic press with no idea how one might put such a tool to use.

I started experimenting with salads and learned to think beyond iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots. Through trial and error, I learned the art of making a hearty chowder.

There were so many disasters along the way. I remember trying to make a Sri Lankan noodle dish that a relative always brought to family gatherings. Mike and I each took a bite. It was immediately apparent that the food was inedible. Mike and I both like spicy foods, but I’d ruined the dish by not following a recipe and instead substituting my ignorance of good spice-to-noodle ratios. Mike, eyes tearing, said, “It’s really good,” and choked down a second bite.

My mother never liked cooking, nor was it her strong suit. Which one caused the other is a chicken-versus-egg question.

Incidentally, both my sister and I are now excellent cooks.

Trial & Error x Infinity = Proficiency

I learned to enjoy my time in the kitchen. It’s another creative outlet and, as with anything else, I improved over time.

My repertoire is much more diverse and no longer includes the packaged, processed foods. I can make a killer risotto, tri-tip marinade, lobster ceviche, and vegan enchiladas you’d swear weren’t vegan.

I think back to those early days and I’ll the times I said, “I can’t cook.”

What I meant to say was, “I can’t cook yet.”