I received three comments on my last post where I said I was ending this blog after 5 years and 1,365 posts. I am surprised for my stats don’t reflect that I have a loyal following. Well, well, well, lookit that. Readers.
I will admit since I hit POST I’ve missed writing much, much more than expected. I have learned one can become addicted to a pen in hand and the pleasure of the perfect word.
Yes, it appeared to be an abrupt ending from the point of view of the reader who can’t mind read. I follow many blogs and are often left hanging when posting ceases, and I wonder what the heck happened.
Several years ago I bumped into cheaprvliving.com and became fascinated by the idea of living in a small mobile space and wandering about the United States. One side of my family tree, a century ago, were gypsies wandering around Europe in caravans. Their blood flows through my veins, yet I can physically and emotionally root to a location faster than anyone I know. I’m here. The last move. Let’s plant some redwoods and watch them grow. Did it twice as fast when we moved to the Sacramento Mountains in New Mexico. Grace had found my perfect nesting place, and I knew it.
Grace had tried for years to get me to travel. We didn’t do much, which now seems like I failed her. Now that we are retired with no steady disposable income coming in and medical issues starting to be an issue it logically makes sense to do less.
Yet my brain is driving me half crazy with dreams of building out a tiny moveable home and fly fishing the southwest until I physically can’t do it anymore. Would it be in a small RV so Grace can go or a high top van so I can stand up or squeeze my things into my favorite vehicle of all time, a Jeep XJ? I spend my nights building, modifying and repairing each and live in them in my head, fixing each problem as it pops up. I could show you 10 plans for each type of vehicle if I didn’t throw them away in fits of anger and housecleaning. My head still feels like a hoarder’s house.
I have made a final concrete decision about which vehicle at least two hundred times in the last year. Then some small tick in my life and I rethink and rethink and after a storm of sketches, come up with another yes, absolutely I’m going to do this other one for sure. Analysis paralysis some call it. I call it dammit.
Oddly, I think about mobile living without Grace. Yes, without Grace, my tower of strength and bravery. Who the hell is going to chase off the boogie bears and the real ones? Who is going to chose the destination and how we get there? Who am I going to ohh and ahh with? It’s a puzzlement.
It would also be without SillyDog whose constant, loud panting would send me into a suicidal rage within 15 miles.
The day I posted, I was putting an end to the tornadic frenzy in my head. If I put it on paper, it means I’d made an absolute, never-change-my-mind-again, binding decision.