Holding Pattern

Things are moving right along in Stamper-land, but never as quickly as I hope they will. We have made significant strides towards downsizing. Got rid of the much-cherished 1970 VW camper bus. We have owned it since the mid-90's and it has tons of great memories for us. If that car absorbed good vibrations, it should be a pretty happy vehicle for someone. Practically gave it away, but that's what you need to do to re-home things in this fantastic "new economy" we find ourselves in. We want things to go to people who actually appreciate what they are getting. I think we have accomplished that mission so far, at least for the most part. Try digging from the "Craigslist" pool to make that happen--not a small task, I can assure you. A few other items have left the property. No huge money-making going on. The profit is in the fact that it has a new home somewhere else in the universe. I take comfort in that.

Fifer is safely tucked away in a new slip in the same shipyard (Tom-Mac, Richmond, B.C.) marina as she has been residing in for a few years. She is in a far safer place than she was for the last few Winters--right in the Fraser River at the very edge of the marina. Logs and barges freely collided with her in that spot, in which she sustained some fairly significant damage to her starboard side. Her new place is right in the heart of the marina, far from traveling barges and giant logs being hauled up the river.
We have completed a considerable amount of work since we bought her in March. The engines are in, the shafting in in place, the transmissions are ready to connect. We also replacing her old and ailing battery system with a new 24-volt set up. Much better and more reliable. The guys in the shipyard make sure everything is well taken care of, but a bilge pumping system that isn't working is just asking for trouble. I will, at a minimum, sleep better knowing that water is not in her bilges. We have also ripped off the problem area on her roof (over the engine compartment) and are getting ready in the next couple of weeks to replace the wood and repair all the damaged areas. The shipwrights at Tom-Mac are fantastic, and have really done great work to get her back up to where she needs to be. They re-did some seams on her hull that needed replacing. This process consists of figuring out which seams are weeping, then tearing out all the old caulk and cotton, then replacing it with new--this time they re-did it in cement. It was beautifully done and should last many years. As I painted the bottom a few weeks ago before she went back in the water from the last haul-out, I looked at how gorgeous the work was. It seemed a shame to it cover up...(yes, I "geek-out" with this boat stuff).
We were going to make the mad-dash to have Fifer down here this Winter, but the further we got towards our deadline, the crazier the idea seemed. We still have so much more to do, and that's not just Fifer I'm talking about. The house still needs to be readied to sell in the Spring, and all this fantastic crap we've collected over the years still needs to go. It's a daunting task, and I try not to get overwhelmed with it all.
All this work hasn't left a whole lot of time for socializing and recreation. Friends have been left by the wayside to some extent, and I'm still trying to figure out balance while feeling like I'm going insane! Friends are necessary to give perspective at times like this. I have been pretty unavailable, and I know that the situation is far from ideal. When I eventually get out and interact with people I enjoy being around, I'm never sorry. Now that I'm blogging again, I'll share some of the feelings I have about what things I feel like I'm giving up in order to give ourselves a better quality of life. It's work, this downsizing and prioritizing. I vacillate between feeling great about this complete overhaul of life, and feeling totally overwhelmed.

Where the Fuck Did Summer Go?

Alright, so I haven't blogged since March.....if it counts for anything, I've been thinking about blogging. Basically all we've done all Summer is work, work, work. We were either in Canada working on Fifer (the new boat, 68 1/2 foot 1928 motor yacht), or here stateside working on Molly (the 1957 Owens Flagship Cruiser that we have owned for 4 years--ready to sell now). It was an uphill battle for everything--and while I can't say for certain that we've won the war, I feel like we've made it across a couple of battlefields at least.
Since we do everything ourselves, you just have to sort of start the work and keep on going until completion. Vince handles the mechanicals, and I handle the bright work and trim. Ben helps a lot on the bright work, but since he had a job this Summer, it was mostly up to me. This goes both for Fifer and Molly--on Fifer we have gotten the engines placed into the boat the Summer, along with the transmissions. This week the shafting and props should be installed. There is also a pesky leak along the garboard that will be fixed.

When I say, "engines installed," it really oversimplifies the whole process that went down. Transporting the engines was the first step. 3 tons a piece, they were sitting for several years in the back of a tire warehouse some miles away from the shipyard where Fifer currently resides. It's not like you can rent a U-Haul and move the engines yourself--3 ton engines, and 1 ton transmissions take heavy-hauling equipment. We managed to find a shipping outfit that was willing to move the engines at a price that we could afford, and the man in charge of the move was aptly named, "Justin Case"....Justin Case, indeed. We made the move of the engines to the shipyard for less than $300. We also emptied the storage unit full of parts/pieces/and equipment as well, moving all the contents to Tom-Mac (shipyard). I found out after the engines got to the yard on the back of the semi-truck flatbed that they had been "teetering" a little around corners. That was a moment I was glad I had thought beating the truck to the yard would be better than following it. I would have crapped my pants watching that.

The engines sat on the docks for a few weeks after we moved them there. We spent a weekend steam-cleaning the engine compartment and bilges to get ready for the engines to be installed. Vince bought a steam cleaner last year for a couple of hundred bucks on Craigslist. It was pretty much toast, so he spent a few months rebuilding it, getting it back together. It took a LONG time to clean out 80 years on oil and sludge out of Fifer! It had definitely never been done before, but in order to properly clean the compartment for painting there was no other way. Once clean, it was easy to apply the paint. I spent hours and hours huffing paint this Summer, I can't say it was a particularly effective or enjoyable way to get high. It looked great, and we felt really good about putting the engines in for another 80 years (hopefully).

We hauled Fifer and had the engine installed via a huge crane--through a nicely (albeit small) hole that had been cut through the roof. Vince, me, Ben, Tom (shipyard owner) and another yard worker put both of the transmission units and one of the engines into the boat in about 4 hours one afternoon. It was amazing that we were actually able to do it, as the crane was at it's weight limit to boom (extending mechanism) the engine into place--so movement forward or backward was accomplished by pulling the boat up the rails, or sending the boat the other direction down the rails. It was one of those moments where you were halfway into something, and you realize that you have to figure out how to get 'er done. You do it because you don't have any other choice. It's kind of how we've been doing everything these days. Every second of this task was absolutely awesome and exciting. I loved it.

Once the engine had been installed, we felt comfortable letting Tom and the rest of the yard guys handle installing the second engine. That was done the next week....so...mission accomplished and on-time for that goal. The rest of the things we are doing seem to be falling into place..well, for the most part, anyway.

Molly was one hell of a lot of work. This little boat has been so much fun for so many years. We have been working on her for the past 4 years. We originally acquired the boat for my father, so that he and his girlfriend could stay on it when they visited Washington from Sacramento. We worked to get it up to standard for cruising and living aboard for a few days here and there. She was in pretty good shape to begin with, but her paint and varnish had been neglected for many years. We hauled her out a couple of times the first 2 years we had her, the second time taking her down to bare mahogany and returning her from white to her original color-scheme of beige and red. Every year we have worked hard to get her ready for the Wooden Boat Festival in Port Townsend every end of Summer, consistently bringing her to a higher level. Well, this year we really kicked it up a few notches. Vince completely stripped down the engine, taking apart the entire cooling system and removing all the old paint from the engine. He cleaned and polished everything--making sure all the gaskets on all the parts were replaced. After he was all finished, he applied a beautiful new coat of red paint. We also rebuilt the troublesome old carburetor--that little sucker had us chugging back and forth from Port Townsend last year on a wing and a prayer. Vince also steam-cleaned the engine compartment of Molly, and her bilges....once again, I was in charge of painting the bilges. This time I used turpentine and linseed oil. Huffing that in the hot Summer sun DID get me high. Less brain cells....goody. Thinking is troublesome, anyway, who needs it?

One would think that all this was enough. It wasn't. I had ripped out the carpets last Winter, so I figured that I would refinish the mahogany plywood floors--just sand, bleach and coat them with varnish. I attempted to sand them and after taking an hour to do about 1 foot of floor I decided that I didn't want to spent the next 50 years creating sawdust. I headed to the hardware store in search of the elusive chemical stripper that would solve all of my old-floor-varnish woes. Now, I have extensive experience with these fantastic wonders of chemical superiority. I had one product that I loved called "Speed-o-Matic"...this crap was the real deal. It had more health warnings than your bottle of Viagra! If you were unfortunate enough (or stupid enough) to get it onto your skin, the chemical burns that you received would serve as a long-lasting reminder that you had to suffer for your love of wooden boats. And burn....don't forget the burn. Well, the bastards discontinued "Speed-o-Matic"---some dumb ass probably sued Jasco for their well-deserved chemical burns. Pissed.me.off. It seems like in this fantastic country where nobody works or gets their hands dirty anymore, people look to eliminate any *dangerous* products. Hey, dangerous WORKS! I'd rather have a kick-ass product that takes 5 minutes to strip the paint, rather than working with some namby-pamby remover that takes HOURS, or might not even work at all. Call me stupid, I like products that work. So, the quest was on for something that could work, hopefully as well as my favorite poison.

As I wandered the aisles for my little mom 'n' pop hardware store a couple of blocks from the marina, I found several options--I grabbed them all in the smallest bottle I could find. I was going to test them ALL out and figure out the best one. They all touted their attributes for removing paint and varnish, but their labels didn't have nearly the "danger" factor I was looking for. It dawned on me that one of the old duffers who worked at the hardware store might have some helpful knowledge. I ambled up to one especially grizzled-up oldster who looked (to me, at least) to be handy. I asked him if he had any recommendations about what I should use--and that I wanted something that REALLY worked. He informed me that the can of something called, "Dad's," innocently enough, was what I really wanted. He went on to affirm my idea that the more health warnings that were on the bottle, the better the product worked.

I bought a gallon, and marched back down to the boat with a new energy. They had included a handy spray bottle to apply the stuff, which had great appeal---this way you didn't have to brush it on. This would eliminate any potential contact for chemical burn. I opened the spray bottle and poured the toxic crap into the obviously too-small hole of the bottle. I got to test the chemical burn potential right off the bat! Oh, yeah, this stuff should work..OUCH! When I put it on the floor it was love at first burn.....it took SECONDS to strip it right down to the wood. Awesome. That opened the floodgates of stupid. "If it takes the varnish off the floor so fast, maybe I can do the WHOLE INTERIOR". That's what started the insanity 3 weeks before the Wooden Boat Festival. I started taking apart the interior, removing doors, panels, windows and everything else in the quest for perfection.....

More tomorrow--including, but not limited to: "Nobody will buy my cool stuff--oh, yeah, we're in a Depression!"......downsizing is very difficult if you can't get rid of your stuff......

Sit Down, Shut up....

It's so hard to sit down and write these days--still so much up in the air. We now have a 68 ft. yacht in Canada (sitting and waiting for us to come and love it), a house and farm--7 acres and (less) critters. We have cars, trucks, tractors, collectibles to re-home--and it's an uphill battle to sell them. Amazingly great stuff, nobody has the money to buy them. We're dealing with it all--hoping and working towards the goal. I vacillate between being thrilled with what we are doing, to being entirely overwhelmed. Happily, I'm moving more towards being thrilled....I have my days, like everyone.
On another front--I have successfully dealt with culling people out of my life that I have found too negative to deal with. For many, many years I have accepted that WORST behavior from people. I just thought that with friends you should look for the best in people, and overlook the flaws. That's what friends do, right? I challenge that by saying that negative energy begets negative energy. Choosing to move people out of your life can be very liberating. This is not to say that the people themselves are the problem. It's a matter of the mix--you+friend=whatever energy that creates. I am much more selfish about my time, who I choose to spend time with and taking the time I need to have to concentrate on my life issues. People are thinking this is just a "temporary" situation, that I will bring people back into my life after this whole life-change is finished with. This is not the case. I feel so great about what I'm doing that I'm going to continue on this path. I want to surround myself with people who understand they are worthy of success, and bring a lighter feeling into the world.
The whole cleaning/down-sizing/life-change is moving along, perhaps not as fast as I'd like--but as a very wise friend said yesterday over coffee--"live minute to minute." That's what I'm doing. Makes things easier.

Don’t use your Passion, let your Passion Use You

One of the highlights on our adventure to the land of silicone and Botox, was dinner with an old friend, who moved to L.A. from Seattle to pursue a career as a screenwriter. We had an amazing dinner at a small Nicaraguan restaurant, and an even more engaging conversation on art, passion, talent, and drive. He related how he had gotten meetings with some very connected producers. “I just pick up the phone and start calling.” It reminded us of the time that Carrie was asked by a local Seattle morning show to set up an in studio for a nationally touring band. We were friendly with the band, but had no idea how to get a hold of them. The management company that was promoting their tour wouldn’t give Carrie the time of day. “Who are you, and who are you with?” they asked. Not taking no for an answer, Carrie kept cold calling until she finally got the bands personal manager. “Sure, that would be great, I will set it up,” he said. By coincidence, our friend is also a musician, and knows the manager in question.

I posed the question, “so what do you do if you are passionate about something that you realize you may not be talented at in a way that would make you successful.”

Being both a musician and a writer, he shared how he had applied for a series of post graduate music programs. After being repeatedly rejected, he humbly admitted that as much as he loved music, maybe he was a better writer, or at least more likely to be successful at it. Having two parents who were doctors, and expecting him to go to medical school, he was already pursuing his passion over material success, (or even parental validation, which can be a force of nature to resist.)

But what is success? On a superficial level this is an easy question to answer. Some would tell you that it can be quantified in terms of market share, record sales, best seller lists, or critic reviews. I remember a proud mother showing me an article from the L.A. times, reviewing her daughters gallery show. She shared how the daughter told her, “they described me as an artist Mom. I always wanted to be called an artist.” The art world is a fickle place. Looking for external validation, especially if it has a direct correlation to your personal self confidence, can be a dangerous strategy.

On the other hand, perhaps out of fear of rejection, or simply lack of initiative, some people pursue a strategy of never putting themselves out there. Our friend related how as president of the North West Screenwriters Guild, he would meet writers who always had an excuse for why they hadn’t written. They would blame their husbands, or their family, or their hectic lives. I say start living or start dying. If you are truly passionate about your craft, commit, and start doing. Only time and experience will hone your skills so that when and if opportunity presents itself, you can seize the moment. If and when that moment comes, if you are focused on the external then fear of either success or failure will cause you to hesitate, and the moment may pass
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Another musician friend is more talented than she knows. Externally she appears to be empowered, almost to the point of being cocky. She has a wicked sense of humor, a quick wit, and delights in shocking people. Just like Carrie, she is not afraid to engage in topics of substance, so it is not surprising that Carrie and she became close friends. Both share a traumatic past, and instead of being shocked or feeling sorry when the friend confided some of the more sordid events, Carrie was empathetic and encouraged her to work through and move past them, having done so herself. Carrie is also relentless in her insistence that these things must be dealt with, or the baggage will weigh one down and influence one to pursue paths that are in conflict with your long-term happiness. I think because of this, their relationship is tumultuous, as the friend struggles with whether to subvert her past, or deal with it, (which could be painful, and force some uncomfortable changes in her present life.)

As she is a talented musician, Carrie saw the opportunity to connect her with our network of friends in the music industry. This culminated with a friend, who is respected in the industry, helping her record a demo which we all felt should open some doors for her. All of us that is, accept for Wolverine, who is very self critical about her music. So what is it that drives us past our fears to success, and what is success?

The friend who recorded the demo has had success. He was the drummer of arguably one of the most famous bands to come out of the Seattle scene. He was with them when they broke, but quit just before they exploded, (rescuing us from the likes of Poison and Loverboy.) For years he refused to give interviews, or explain the reasons why he left the band. The music press did what they typically do; they made up their own history, and in my opinion, because they felt slighted that he refused interviews, marginalized his role in the band, and his talent. He was with the band longer than any other drummer, recorded what many purists believe is their best album, and has the respect of every other musician I have met in the Seattle scene, including those who are still internationally recognized. So if it wasn’t talent that caused his departure, and continues to keep him in relative obscurity, then what is it?

His successor, who went on to start yet another very successful band was once asked in an interview about his predecessor. He revealed that many of the tracks on the album that exploded the band into superstardom, had already been written and recorded when he joined, and that he re-recorded them beat for beat. When asked who the better drummer was, he replied with humility that it was the other. These two drummers are completely different in their styles, so in all fairness the question may have no answer. One is very improvisational, more of a jazz drummer than punk, rock or “grunge,” the other a human drum machine who can replicate any style. In that difference I believe lays the answer to why our friend left the band, and continues to shun the spotlight.

The psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi describes those experiences which people find most rewarding, as those that challenge us just to the edge of our capabilities, but not beyond them. Allowing worry or doubt to intrude restrains you from achieving these optimal states of productivity. I have always said that the secret to anything is not knowing you can't, which looked at another way is that optimal success does not have a lot of room for self doubt, fear of failure, or just as damaging, fear of success. If you are successful doing something that you love, you might fear that you would grow to hate it. One might also speculate that success also can be limiting, because it creates expectations, and to meet those expectations you might have to compromise, or continue doing things the same way, to a formula, which will eventually trap you into doing this thing that you once loved, but that is no longer challenging or rewarding because now you are not allowed to grow beyond it.

Musicians especially can fall into this trap as fans and or labels and management do not want to take risks, for fear you will grow in a direction away from your market or fan base, which then is inherently at odds with an artist, who by nature wants to explore and take risks.

In my opinion, one artist who exemplifies the ability to both take creative chances, and have a long and successful career, is David Bowie (another would be Johnny Cash.) “Let’s Dance” was just as relevant in the eighties as “Ziggy Stardust” was in the seventies. When I first heard “Tin Machine” I didn’t like it, but it laid the foundation for bands like Nine Inch Nails, which he later collaborated with. The aforementioned drummer, while on his first national tour after being signed to SubPop, introduced the lead singer to Bowie in a record store in New York, and it heavily influenced his later work.

Part of Bowie’s success can be attributed to the fact that he is one of those rare combinations of talent, passion, and business acumen. There is a story of his early career, when he was still relatively unknown, of him hiring a limo, outfitting it with a large entourage, and then hiring a group of “fans” to wait anxiously at the Hotel for his arrival. This created such a buzz around town that he then played to a sold out show that night. The cold hard facts are that in the art world, talent without marketing will toil on in obscurity. Some artists are O.K. with obscurity, and in fact pine for it even after success. We see this in Seattle, where bands such as Pearl Jam delight playing un-announced shows in small clubs under assumed names, or in disguise. In part this tactic also validates them as artists, just as Steven King publishes under pseudonyms, which validates him as an artist independent of the “brand name.” If you are passionate about your art, and need more resources to explore that passion more, but lack the business sense, you had better find a Colonel Parker to your Elvis.

If you pursue you passion, success (or the people who will market you) may or may not find you. If your passion is a means on to itself, this may be all that you desire, but remember that if you are true to your passion and yourself success will not preclude this fulfillment. I recently saw an interview with the CEO of Starbucks, and what came across to me was that despite his success, not because of it, he was and always had been very passionate about coffee. When your passion is a means to an end, and not just an end on to itself, you can never be completely focused on what is most fulfilling, your passion. Only by getting in the “zone,” by letting our passion use us, can we truly perform at our optimum potential. If we do not find our passions rewarding in and of themselves, do we really believe that we will be fulfilled with the fruits of those labors?

In Defense of Dirty Hands

For now, Fifer remains in Canada, partly so we do not get distracted from our downsizing, but mostly to work through logistics to get her ready to come through customs. Our second trip up to see her was a mad dash to inventory equipment, and get the contract signed around. This last one was more relaxed, but it was time to get our hands dirty.

Unlike buying a used car, or a house, it has been my experience that when you buy a boat, you also inherit a lot of clutter. Boaters tend to be like Boy Scouts. “Be prepared,” for all situations, or at least try to be, is the mindset. The previous owner of Fifer, with the best of intentions, had tried to turn her into a Swiss Army knife; lot’s of stuff that sort of works in a pinch, but not very well.

The will to put Fifer back together, and return her to her former glory was there, but I think he just got overwhelmed.

I know from personal experience, that even smart hard working guys can get in over their heads, but you need to know when to quit. This is a lesson I am still learning, and I take it for granted that I am able to deal fairly easily with the curves that life, and mechanical things throw at you. The week before our trip we sold the last of our Mercedes diesel wagons to a good friend. I had done a lot of work to make sure that I felt confident about the car. It had new tires, battery, starter, glow plugs, thermostat, and fuel filters, and Carrie and I had both spent a lot of time working on it. The first indication that our friend might not be a good first time diesel owner was several hours after we dropped the car off, he called to say it wouldn’t shift. Carrie went over climbed in, and while he looked on in amazement pulled out on the highway as it shifted up to speed. Being used to gas cars, I am guessing he pushed the pedal all the way down, engaging the kick down switch that tells the transmission to stay in a lower gear for passing. The next day he called to say he couldn’t get it to start, and the turn signals to work. We had been driving it for two weeks with no problem, but at this point we just called AAA, and got it back. I put it on the charger, and after a few minutes it started right up. To our friends credit, he just knew he wasn’t prepared to deal. No problem. I will either keep the car, or sell it to someone who is a little more mechanical, or experienced. Just to make sure there weren’t any more gremlins in the car, we decided to take it on our trip to Canada.

The drive up was fairly uneventful, and we were looking smugly at the traffic moving slowly in the other direction, when we hit one of the worst traffic jams I have ever been stuck in. As we crested a hill, the cars in front were simply parked. Carrie watched in the rear view mirror as a car collided so hard into the one stopped beside us, that the left front wheel came off and rolled into the lane behind us. Three lanes merged into one, tempers flared, and then even more lanes merged before we made it to the tunnel that goes under the Fraser River. We spent a lot of time with the car idling at a standstill, and I was a little nervous when I saw the temperature gage start to climb. I had just put a new thermostat in, and this was the first road trip we had the white Mercedes Wagon on since I had installed the new tranny. I was relieved when we started moving again, and the temperature dropped down to normal.

We checked into the hotel, and then went down to the boat to get a little work done before calling it a day. When we went out to the car to go back to the hotel, it wouldn’t start. Undaunted, we went back to the boat, got an extra battery charger (for once I was happy with the redundant tool buying habits of the previous owner,) and started charging it while we went back down and got some more work done. Just to be safe, when we got back to the hotel, I smuggled the battery and the charger up to the room to let it charge over night.

For some strange reason, Grocery stores seem to very difficult to find in Canada. We needed distilled water to refill the batteries on the boat, and had to travel many miles, passing just about every other type of retail outlet that modern life can provide. Golf World, craft stores, Recliner land, Rice World (there is a large immigrants population,) Chow’s Exotic Meats, and lot’s of mini-marts, but nothing resembling a supermarket on our quest. In the midst of our adventure, the car started making a strange new metallic sound. This was quite unsettling in our foreign surroundings, and as we drove it got progressively worse. We pondered what it could be, and Carrie called AAA to see what our coverage was. Finally, when we got back to the shipyard I had Carrie pop the hood and keep it running. Almost immediately I was relieved to see that the fan belt was slipping, so now it was obvious where the noise was coming from, why it got hot, and why the battery wasn’t charging. I also had spare belts with me, which I put on while Carrie went down and did more work on the boat.

That weekend we filled two dumpsters. Up and down the dock I went, dragging garbage cans full of torn up tarps, foam to keep the tarps from chafing on all the ropes, cardboard boxes for all the supplies he bought, and blankets that the rodents had delighted in using along with the cardboard as a source for food and nesting material. The four socket sets, three full toolboxes, camp stove, and other miscellaneous stuff we loaded into the wagon to take to his storage unit.

I think that long before the grounding, the previous owner was out of his element. A lawyer by trade, he liked the idea of Fifer, and that of being a handy guy. Even if he didn’t do the work himself, he prided himself on knowing who to hire, and how to research what to do.

The deck leaked, and instead of keeping it simple, he just kept adding tarps on top of more tarps, stringing rope back and forth to hold them, and when the water started to pool buying step ladders and garbage cans placed to hold the low spots up. These were custom tarps, and he had several spare sets made. For the money he spent, he easily could have had a frame made, or just made one out of PVC pipe, like the guys at the shipyard tried to tell him to do. He kind of had the same approach to the hull repairs. He went with the cheap bid, didn’t listen to the people who knew what they were talking about, and when the timeline and price doubled to a year and $300,000, he just kept piling it on. In both cases he ended up with inferior results.


On the return trip we surprised my Grandma Becky by stopping in Anacortes for a visit. It was perfect timing as it was the day before her 84th birthday. “You made my birthday!” she said. We visited for about an hour, showing her pictures of Fifer and chatting about family. She is very concerned about countries current economic situation. “We lived on a farm, and so we were fine during the last depression. We took care of each other. I’m afraid that people today don’t know how to do anything for themselves. I think we are in a real mess, and I worry about these kids,” she lamented. She was relieved to hear that I had a secure job, and that we were very self sufficient.

A lot of people I know do not understand all the work I do: the old cars, home improvement, fixing everything myself, etc. My parents, as well as my in-laws came from the generation where if you were smart and well educated you hired someone else to do those things. I will admit that there were times where it would have been easier, and maybe cheaper to just buy a new car, or hire someone else. Especially in light of our recent downsizing, I definitely took on more projects than I should have, and would have been wise to devote myself to tasks more challenging or cerebral. What I don’t regret is that while most of our friends and family are in debt, we have the freedom to do what we are doing now, with no debt, no obligations. At the end of the day my hands may be dirty, but I had the ability to use them to do what needed to be done, and with the wisdom I have gained, the freedom to choose whether or not to do it myself. That my friends is a much better choice than Visa or Mastercard.

Blog on...........

Haven't written in awhile. Crappy. I know. Just haven't felt witty--or particularly sociable. Yes, blogging is sociable....lol....better not tell the "Teabaggers", huh? Socialism is bad, m-kay? All the same...no, not even close. I digress. Kind of how my brain has been functioning of late. Or not functioning. Think of clicking through a bunch of TV channels while sitting on the couch--that's me running from one thing to another. Channel surf between the home-improvement show and the big adventure reality bit. These days A.D.D is a blessing.
Kind of on "auto-pilot" getting things done and moving forward. I guess when we started this I didn't realize how huge of a life-change it really was. Silly, considering all the material possessions we have, thinking this would be an easy task. Call me an idiot, I thought it would go faster than it is. Selling things on Craiglist (and elsewhere) is a GIANT pain in the ass. People, if you didn't think we had an economic crisis, I'm here to tell you that yes in-dee-dee we do. We have some pretty cool shit. 1940's Coke machines, very collectible cars, extremely sought-after things....none of it really moves, even priced to sell. Even a couple of years ago this crap would have moved down the road rapidly. As it is, it is taking time. I'm not patient. I am forced to be. It will eventually go, I resign myself to that. In the meantime we work like dogs getting things gone and cleaned up. That is going very well. Disappearing giant trailers, old junk cars--GONE. It's still a daunting task. I accomplish it happily. That's the good stuff. I love it.
Aside from that, we are again heading to L.A. for the unforgettable debauchery that is the Playboy Mansion. It has to be the most fun you can have people watching (yes, it's even better than Burning Man--the people at the party aren't trying to be feats of nature, they simply ARE). I love the cause. It's for our brave men and women injured in Iraq and Afghanistan--they attend the party, too--and it's really all for them. I loved watching David Hasselhoff thanking them, each individually, for their service. Call him what you will, the man has class (what a man does on his own floor with alcohol and hamburgers is his damn business!). This year I'm not freaking out at all about going. I know what to expect, and I have no worries. Just expect to have a lot of fun. It helps that I'm probably in the best shape of my life, and I've worked damn hard for it. This year, the pictures most likely won't all make it to Facebook--I kicked it up a notch. My attire is tasteful, but there is less of it. Figure I'd better kick it up a notch while I still can! lol. Vince has the tux that makes him look like James Bond (with more staying power, lol, ask me about Sean Connery--I'll tell you the story!) It will be nice to just relax and enjoy the show.
We will be flying in on Friday morning, meeting with friends for lunch--then heading to a live taping of the Bill Maher show (HBO, Fridays), then out to dinner with old friends.
I'll blog about it all when I get back....

Murphy's Law (or, "I'm going to kill Murphy if I ever find him")

Anything that can happen, will happen. That's the theory. Comes to pass all the time. I never need proof of it's existence.
Got a call day before yesterday that a (very large) barge hit Fifer late Saturday night. There have been some rough storms up there, and she's tied outside of some other boats. She's right in the River, so it's not a huge leap to think that something like this could happen. The damage is pretty extensive, but not too alarming. It hit the bow of Fife (good amount of damage there), and during the time they were trying to move her back into place they ripped out a cleat. Probably 5-10k worth of damage. It was the barge companies fault--they will pay for the repairs.
This leads me to the place I am right now. We're in a house I'm done with--ready to make the move. I feel that I've already made the emotional detachment, so the time I'm spending here (though I'm enjoying--the sense of accomplishment is amazing) is frustrating. Nothing leaves as fast as I want it to. I either make the arrangements to have it picked up and something happens that I can't have it leave. Usually this is due to Vince not being about 10 people. He can't do it all. I'm afraid I'm not very well versed on putting tires on tractor rims--perhaps we wouldn't be having this discussion if I could. Lol. There are also the folks who promise to come and get things, then stall out. Ads that need to be written. Never get that done, either--because I don't know what the hell they are, these items. I have to learn to take it easy. It will all get done. I'm trying to concentrate on the things that I CAN do, not the things I can't. If I don't do that, I'm going to drive Vince insane. I have one foot out the door, and one foot on Fifer. This particular dilemma won't be any better until I have BOTH feet on Fifer. In the meantime, so much more to do.
So I try not to freak out, thinking of all the things we have to do to be ready to sell the house on the time-line we have made. I know that things have to be done in order--make things disappear, then work on the house to have it ready to sell. I try and enjoy the ride, while Murphy's Law ensues.