We had some weather

It was sunny in the morning then started clouding up. Then it got gloomy. Then wet. Rain. Hail. Rain. Then it cleared up. Then it rained some more. Then there was a rainbow. Yesterday’s weather was sort of a metaphor for life.

Furry beggar

Rick (or Ricky, or even Riki, since we don’t know whether it’s male or female) is one of the bolder critters on Lou’s property. I suspect Rick considers it his property since he was here first.

I had spilled some granola this morning and cleaned up most of it, but some crumbs remained in the rug. Rick caught scent of it. He’s my personal DustBuster.

No longer a clunker

If you’ve been following the story of clunking noises from the Rolling Steel Tent’s front suspension, you might remember the replacement of the pitman and idler arms and the recent replacement of the tie rod ends. Those two fixes reduced the noise a little, but I still felt like my steering components might fly off at any moment.

I had gotten to the point where I was willing to have all the remaining front suspension parts replaced. I had money saved up. So I was ready for a worst-case situation when I went to Hilltop Service in Silver City.

The owner and two mechanics put it on the rack and started wiggling and prying in various diagnostic ways. They seemed perplexed. Then one of them shook the anti-sway bar. Rattle rattle rattle. It wasn’t supposed to make that noise. The four of us said simultaneously, “Worn bushings.”

I thought I would need to come back after the new bushings arrived. The owner asked, “Want me to replace these?”

“You mean right now?”

“Yeah.” He happened to have the needed parts.

“Sure!”

One of the new bushings, in designer blue

I was out of there in fifteen minutes. Parts and labor, $75.00.

Best of all, NO. MORE. CLUNKING! The Rolling Steel Tent sounded like new.

I’ve really become a fan of small repair shops in small towns.

Let’s get wet

Boiled to perfect tenderness

I took a vacation from my carpenter’s assistant gig and drove down the highway to Faywood Hotsprings. It’s my third or fourth time here. There’s a particular pool I like that’s nice and deep and the perfect temperature for me—about 104°. And the water isn’t sulfur-ish. Also, there’s always hot water in the showers.

Camping is $20/night with unlimited soaking. I wanted to get in the tub under the stars, but a thunderstorm was passing through. I like my water hot, not electrically charged. The storm had moved on when I woke at 5:00, so I had a pre-dawn soak instead. Mmmmmm, wonderful.

Happiness is just down the road

The cell signal at Lou’s place is sporadic because the Verizon tower is blocked by a ridge. Sometimes I get two bars of 4G LTE, sometimes five bars of 3G, and sometimes no signal at all. And despite having a 4G signal, sometimes I still can't connect to the interwebs. Ah, the whims of the cosmos and wireless technology.

But I can get a great signal if I drive a little way down the road, even without my directional antenna and booster. That’s why I can post this.

Room

A frequent topic among nomads is how to create more living space. (As opposed to dying space?) But the thing is, no matter how you rearrange X cubic feet of stuff within Y cubic feet of space, you still end up with the same amount of empty room, just shaped differently.

Some shapes work better than others. Better utilization of existing space is the best we can hope for unless we decrease X or increase Y. Less stuff or a larger place to contain it. Or both.

When nomads talk about living space they usually mean within their vehicle. But there’s tons of living space outside. As the saying goes, don’t live in a van, live out of one.

I think what most nomads are talking about is not feeling crowded, not being overwhelmed by the close quarters, having the luxury of our own blank space. They want to feel like they did when they lived in a building.

Building life (unless you lived in a studio apartment) conditioned us to expect different rooms for different purposes. Living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, utility room… But vehicle life is a one-room thing. One tiny multipurpose room. You sleep in the kitchen, cook in the bathroom. All the space in the vehicle—every cubic millimeter of it—is living space. Even the space consumed by stuff.

To get all pseudo-philosophical, we aren’t really separate from our stuff. Our stuff is chosen by us for reasons that are within us. It’s used or not used by us, which says something about us. Our stuff enables or limits us. So make peace with it, with ourselves. Or change X and Y.

Hitting bottom

Lou’s goal is to make his new casa as insulated and airtight as practicable to minimize heating and cooling expenditures. So today we closed off the bottoms of the floor joists. First they were glued into place and nailed, next the edges will be sealed with spray foam before the insulation is dropped in.

Parallel, square and level

The floor joists are in place. Next step is insulation.

The guys who’ll be connecting the building to electricity, water and septic have come by to consult with Lou, and a neighbor has offered the loan of his backhoe. Lou is much more relaxed now.

All present and accounted for

Electrical, water and septic have been found. Like many of life’s answers, it just took some more digging.

Holes and hangers

So far, today, a hole has been dug to locate the water and electrical line. The exact location of the sewer line is yet to be determined.

Meanwhile joist hangers have been installed.

And the supervisors make sure we don't mess up too badly.

From past wandering

Back in December 1985 the airline People Express launched non-stop service between San Francisco (where I lived at the time) and Brussels with a special $99 fare. A group of friends decided it was too good of a deal to pass up. From Brussels we’d take the train to Paris.

The rubber doll in the photo was a running gag in my office. We called it Baby (Always pronounced in a mock adoring, drawn out Baaay-beeee.) It would get slipped into briefcases, hidden in the freezer, stuffed into the copier paper tray…

I took it with me and photographed it at various sites, trying to do something other than the usual tourist pictures.

I’ve seen Notre Dame live, up close and personal a couple of times. The fire makes me sad, as does the destruction of anything of beauty, including humans.

Today's view

Status

Feeling considerably better. That is all.

You know things are getting serious when the concrete comes out