You have to concentrate when you’re taking a selfie.
You have to be “in the moment”.
You have to be in your moment.
Nate has access to one of our older digital cameras….and it’s always fun to see the pictures he takes.
One group had about 20 selfies.
We fascinate ourselves, I think.
It’s all a “teachable moment”.
All these experiences we have with the kids…it’s all a teachable moment.
Maybe what I really have to figure out is this, though: Who is teaching who?
When I see marker or crayon or pencil contributions in a place that I never expected I’d see them, I’m not angry.
It’s mostly a feeling of resignation that washes over me, really.
Resignation.
That’s what I remember in some of the houses of large families that I’d visit when I was little.
I didn’t know what resignation meant back then, but sometimes, when the activity level was high and the census read “youth”, I wondered why the house was so darn messy.
Don’t these people care?
You can’t push the water back up the hill, though.
That’s where the resignation takes purchase on your soul….when you’re kneeling at the bottom of the mountain….wet and covered with mud…finally accepting the fact that the water does what the water is going to do.
You can’t stop some things….completely.
I remind these little guys that you can’t draw on some things….but there’s so many surfaces….and so much time….and so much creativity.
It’s hard to stem the flow completely.
Speaking of “stemming the flow”…..the river that runs through what used to be the pond over at the property is still flowing unimpeded…..still flowing through the muddy base of a pond that once was full of fish….including 4 grass carp@ 15.00 each.
That’s what rain will do….the gentle water….the powerful destructor.
Man, it will tear stuff up.
These marks aren’t appreciated.
It’s messing up my unsophisticated sense of feng shui.
It’s not part of anybody’s design plan to have marker on the wall….or crayon on the door.
It doesn’t fit.
But….I’ll bet it will be welcome when I’m remembering these little guys and their hijinks.
What a nice surprise it will be to discover a hidden masterpiece at some point in the future.
You really do have to wonder sometimes….what’s the lesson and who’s the teacher?
The mail count is coming up this month…and I elected to skip it this time.
They gave us the option to skip if we wanted to.
What do they know that I probably should?
The mail count determines what classification our routes get…..and the classification determines how many days we work during the week….and how much money we make each day.
Right now, I’m a 40K….which means that I work 5 days a week.
That’s what I need….some weekend time with the family.
The 40K classification is just over the line for the 5 day a week schedule, though, and a “J” classification (5 days one week, 6 the next week) or….even….an “H” classification (6 days all the time) is always a threat.
A low K classification also means that I don’t make as much money as a longer route….although I have to work less days to make the smaller amount of money.
It’s a good trade….I’d rather have the time.
But….when they encourage you to consider not counting….you’ve got to wonder.
They never give us the option to avoid something that would benefit them.
What’s up with all this freedom of choice?
You never know what’s going to happen, though, so if it’s close to right, I’ll just stay where I am….thankyou.
So, a low K is my “bird in the hand”.
The post office is good because it’s fairly consistent….and bad because…it’s really consistent.
There aren’t a whole lot of ways to make extra money.
You don’t work harder to sell more and make more….like some jobs.
You don’t climb a corporate ladder.
You kind of just have to plod along and hope for the best.
I’m glad I’m not counting, though….
What a pain in the rear that would be.
Not counting gives me more time to…..COMPLAIN!!!!
Shucks. I’m just drinking coffee.
What do I know about some STEENKING COUNT?!!!
It’s a good job…..you know?
I put the decking on the treehouse yesterday….so there’s something to stand on up there now.
Jenny got up and agreed that it felt really high off the ground.
When I’d put most of the decking on, I got down on the ground and decided to measure the height.
It’s eight feet to the ground at the front side….and eleven feet at the “high” corner.
Those aren’t big numbers, really….eight and eleven.
Man, though….it sure does feel pretty high when you’re up there.
A good railing is the next part of the project.
Maybe I should put barbed wire up to keep the little guys from climbing?
I’m still working that part out.
When I was up there, and contorting myself to reach the screws I needed to put in around the ends of the decking, I realized that sometimes the things that I do to keep myself safe…are really kind of dangerous.
Instead of balancing carefully close to the edge, I splay myself out in a weird contorted distension, trying not to fall…unbalanced and vulnerable.
That’s a lot more dangerous than just trying to work “relaxed”.
But….it’s all about the vertigo.
I get nervous about being up high….even if “high” isn’t really all that far off the ground.
The thing about that treehouse is that it’s on a slope….and it really does feel like you’re a mile or so off the ground.
Planes seem to be something you could reach out and touch.
Supplemental oxygen is a necessity.
Maybe I built it too high?
Nahhhhhhhhh…..how else is a two-year old going to learn to be brave?
Good parenting in action.
Man.
I’m thinking about that treehouse….imagining how to make it “baby proof”….figuring out how to keep physically competent maniacs from launching themselves over the edge.
And….that’s a problem.
The trouble with voicing fear is that, sooner or later, if something ever does happen, even if it happens in another place and time, even if it happens in a different treehouse in a different state….even if it happens to SOMEBODY ELSE….someone could come back and say, “See? He knew. He knew the danger.”
You don’t voice concern.
You certainly don’t write it down.
Now, I wouldn’t do anything to place my children in harm’s way.
I wouldn’t do that.
Finished out, that treehouse is going to be a monument to FUN.
It’s not a house of danger and despair.
It’s going to be a wild retreat.
But….I’m a worrier.
Time has proven that if there’s a weird unknown and a way to misuse something to find the dangerous aspect or event, my children will be the ones to do it.
They are all sweet as can be….they’re just adventurous and strong and very curious….and they can climb….and jump….and do some crazy things that make me worry about prevention more than I should.
The “no more monkeys jumping on the bed” story is a cautionary one…..but my children seem to take it as a call to ACTION.
They jump.
This treehouse is going to be great….safe and great….so once again, I worry without reason.
But….again….and always…..”but”…these kids!! These kids are crazy!
How do you protect against every random event?
Here’s some fodder for the folks who say, “See? He knew. He knew…..and he did it anyway.”
The only really safe thing is to never do anything.
And…..that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
Do something….even if it’s wrong.
The older kids had a treehouse when they were little.
I built it out of scabbed together wood and rough materials…..and a lot of love.
That’s all you have sometimes….a tiny bit of money….and some love.
I painted it green.
I hope that they enjoyed it….and that it was fun to have a place up in the woods that they could call their own.
Now I’m building a treehouse for these little guys.
The old one rotted at a main support….and after it lay cockeyed on the ground for a couple of years, I burned it.
So….now I’m building a new one.
The thing about this new one is that it’s really pretty high off the ground.
I suspect that if I’m nervous getting up there to build it, it might be kind of terrifying for these little ones.
The ground slopes….so even though it’s only about ten feet off the ground in the front, it feels like it’s about a hundred on the back side.
That’s an exaggeration….it’s probably only about fifteen feet or so….but it feels high.
I’m going to have to put up a good railing.
That’s the thrill of a treehouse, though….it needs to feel like it’s in the clouds for a kid to feel like he or she has “gotten their money’s worth”.
These pictures are early ones after today’s work….all it shows is an eight by ten platform….no decking or structure….no railing….no way to get up to it other than the ladders.
That all is going to come later.
It feels good to finally get something going after a couple of years of promises.
Now all I need to do is find us a good dog.
I don’t know a whole lot about Shirley Chisholm.
What I know is what I remember from reading the headlines on my paper route back in New Jersey….before we moved to Georgia…..and what I read in Wikipedia now….so I don’t know much about her.
Shirley Chisholm was a woman who sought the Democratic nomination for President of the United States in 1972.
She was a black woman….who sought the nomination.
The “black” part makes it ….something.
I think that it probably makes it pretty darn gutsy.
She was a brave lady.
But…like I said….I don’t know much about her.
To put it into perspective….maybe….Lester Maddox was the governor of Georgia from 1967 to 1971.
Google “Lester Maddox” to see what some people in the Democratic party were up to at the time.
It wasn’t anything that necessarily supported the nomination of a black woman to ….well…..anything, really.
(Not even eating some chicken at his restaurant…black people weren’t welcome there…..back before the Civil Rights movement ….)
When we moved to Georgia, I think that I remember eating at Lester Maddox’s restaurant once in downtown Atlanta….and it seems like I remember that you could buy souvenir ax handles there.
That was nuts….and a different time.
That would have been in 1973….maybe 1972.
I was 12 when we moved “down south”….so it could have been 1972…
Lester Maddox is another person that I don’t know a lot about, either.
This picture of Lester Maddox is an early one.
Things have really changed….in a lot of ways….and stayed the same in a lot of ways, too, unfortunately.
Check out Shirley Chisholm.
This blog post is really one about her….not Lester Maddox.
I think that it’s a pretty amazing story.
1972.
What was 1972 like for a black lady in this country?
Man.
Dan Price out in Oregon….in his small underground home.
Pared down to the essentials….constantly getting rid of things.
I like to go to thrift stores and BUY, BUY, BUY!!!
A bargain that closes things in around you is really not a bargain, though.
If you watch this video, you’ll get a chance to see the progression from a teepee to a small dome….to a tiny house….to a tiny house with an underground attachment….to just the underground part when the tiny house was robbed.
He rents the property that his home is on….2 acres….for $100 a year.
What an interesting character.
Check out Kirsten Dirksen’s other videos.
They’re all pretty great.
You can buy Dan’s ebooks on Amazon…..here’s a link.
I watched some of this video this morning and thought, “man….there’s a lot of weird stuff on YouTube”.
Then I remembered that a documentary was a film about real things.
IT’S NOT YOUTUBE THAT’S WEIRD….IT’S ALL THESE UNUSUAL PEOPLE!
Pretty strange.
Slab city.
Weird.
There’s a commercial that I hear driving around where the guy doing the commercial says that you’ll need a million dollars to retire.
This video disproves that.
Look at this place….a millionaire would never fit in Slab City.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvSGqjD_ZlE