The day we moved to The Mountain for good, as I recall, was the last time I took my regular handful of vitamins and supplements. That would’ve been June 27th, coming up on eight weeks ago. Because I’m a creature of habit it was part of my daily routine for over three years, and just as naturally I got out (and stayed out) of my groove.
I knew that I should start again, but I kept putting it off.
This morning I looked around the RV for enough space to spread out and re-stock my seven-day “pill-minder.” Failing to find a suitable spot indoors, I gathered up what I needed, hauled it out to the picnic table and sorted tablets and capsules in the shade of the cedars. (That was kinda cool.)
The regimen, then, has resumed. I’ll be better for it, I’m sure.
Now more than ever, ours is an outdoors life. I wrote about that here once before, observing how RVing had nudged our inside-outside balance in favor of the latter. Being on The Mountain full-time now has given it a big ol’ shove, and it’s a great feeling.
I spent decades working indoors. When I came home from a day on the job I spent most evenings indoors. I traveled for business and pleasure inside climate-controlled vehicles and aircraft (motorcycles and the occasional camping trip being exceptions).
So this shift, undertaken in my silver-haired years, is kind of a big deal. What I’m rediscovering is what I’ve always known — that there’s more Life on this side of walls. A whole lot more, in fact.
Things are better Out Here, and I regret wasting so many years In There.
When the portable building we bought yesterday shows up on the spot we’re creating for it here, it won’t be the end of this project, only the beginning. That’s when the real work gets started.
Right now it’s just a shell.
We’ll have to frame a few interior walls. Plumbing and fixtures. Wiring and lighting. Gas line. HVAC. Wood stove. Water heater. Insulation. Appliances. Walls and floors.
There’s more, obviously, but you get the idea (and you may know the drill). For the foreseeable future, we’ll live in the RV while making the cabin livable as our resources permit.
Deb and I revealed to our friends yesterday that we’d bought the cabin, sharing photos on social media. We’ve received nothing but hearty congratulations and warm wishes. Still, I can’t help but wonder how many of these people are scratching their heads at how we could possibly be excited about an empty box.
I mean, is this anyone’s idea of a retirement house?
Yes, actually, it is — it’s ours.
This is exactly what we wanted all along. We lost our way for a while, and we chased dreams that didn’t belong to us. Now we’re back, right where we need to be.
To be clear, this 640-square-foot empty box is not a compromise. We didn’t settle. This is our dream, our ideal — the cabin we want on our homestead.
There will be no guest room, no spare room, no great room and no grand space for entertaining indoors. Eventually, of course, there will be a porch. Y’all come.
Our cabin on The Mountain will be a space for us and the American Life we live.
Today, challenging my personal skepticism about when site work would be done, ended with progress. First, mid-afternoon we got two dump-truck loads of “base” — three-quarter-inch gravel that includes what’s called “fines” (grit a bit bigger than sand). The stuff is easily compacted, and once it is it’s rock-solid.
Then, to our surprise, our contractor showed up with his excavator and distributed the material, all 42 tons of it, on the pad where the cabin will go. (Well, I did ask him to drop a little of the stuff next to the shed.) Because it came from two different quarries, the result looks like a slice of marbled rye.
We’re expecting two more loads of base tomorrow afternoon. That’ll be spread and compacted by end-of-day Monday, and the pad will be ready for our cabin.
It was a great way to end our day and, it seems to me, a good place to end this post.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB