If you’re a regular reader of Ubi Libertas Blog, you see my days follow a similar pattern — same breakfast, same chores, same errands, same Ozarkansas, same Mountain — and could conclude, I suppose, that mine is a pretty damned boring existence.
That wouldn’t be true.
The things I listed above are a drumbeat, a sort of background cadence. The richness and utter joy of my life unfold with the rhythm.
Every day is different because every moment is different. I make it so.
For the first time in my life, I’m without a companion or a family, a school or a workplace, or any sort of social outlet. It’s just me, and the solitude has unleashed my purpose.
I see it. I hear it. While engaging in the routine and the mundane, I experience it.
Reading back over what I wrote there, I realize that it falls short. It crystallizes my here-and-now, but unless you walk through my days with me, it probably won’t make sense to you.
The life I live is not boring. I’ve never been happier. You’ll just have to trust me on that.
Sunday, 4:45am — my very own Velcro Dog. She has to be touching me.
It’s been over a year since I swapped-out the knives I carry every day. Shortly after I got back from Ohio with my full complement of edged tools, I chose a Benchmade 556 Mini-Griptilian and a Victorinox Farmer, and I haven’t felt the need to change.
Yesterday, for the sake of variety, I did.
I exchanged one Benchmade folder for another, the Mini-Grip for a 535BK-2 Bugout. It’s a knife I didn’t expect to like — too light, doesn’t feel substantial — but it’s proven its durability, and I’ve come to appreciate its “barely there” character.
In place of the Farmer, I went with my Rough Rider Barlow, bought for ten bucks at a South Dakota pawn shop. As I’ve said here before, this knife demonstrates that “China” and “junk” aren’t always synonymous.
There’s no telling how long I’ll run with this pair before I change it up again.
It was funny how a few things came together for me on Sunday morning. The Silverado needed gas. As long as I was in Flippin, a small curbside-pickup order would be prudent. And Miss Smudge had been expressing interest in going for a ride in the truck.
So that’s what we did. It’s worth mentioning that this was the Heeler’s best outing since her rehabilitation began.
Once again, it had been 30 days since I put gas in the truck. Last time, I bragged about driving only 283 miles in an entire month.
This time, it was 230 miles. My focus on efficiency is paying off.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable