I've grown quite fond of trailer park life. As a natural nomad, I like a house that quakes beneath my feet. (I exaggerate, of course, but only a lot.)

I love a place so easy to transform, a house that comes apart at the seams, splits in two and trundles off behind a semi.

The new house arrives the same way, trucked in piece by piece to be assembled on the spot.

Trailer park people are a different lot, quirkier than the stick-built crowd. There's good taste and bad taste and there's taste that defies description. And in honor of that we're introducing a new feature today at Here in Malibu -- Trailer Park Tuesday.

No judgement. I truly love it all. And really, what better place to kick things off than at home?

First, let's look again at the bathroom in the mountain trailer I didn't buy. We refer to it, with equal parts relief and longing, as The One That Got Away:

Let's look now at the master bath in the trailer I did buy. It'll stay this way for a while longer since my remodeling dollars didn't stretch as far as I had hoped. (Do they ever?)

Oh the hanging lights, filigree balls that swing from golden chains:

Oh the plastic seashell sinks:

Oh the molded plastic medicine chest, the faux oak paneling, the metallic gold-flocked wallpaper:

What's that? You'd like a closer look?

And now, as the Casa Mulholland remodel sails through its final week, I'm proud to live up to every stereotype you've ever had about who lives in a trailer park, and how.

Here's my front porch this morning:

Please, just call me Ellie Mae.