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Happy St. Packing Day!

March 17, 2012 by thistledog

The last winter storm of the season blew rain through San Diego County today, making for a very wet, very windy St. Patrick’s Day.  I’ll have to don green and raise a Guinness with friends at the local pub another year, as I’ve only 4 days left to finish packing before the moving truck is here to be loaded, and still have a ways to go.  The end of this labor is very near.

So it’s St. Packing Day for me, and I’ll wait to celebrate until the last box is nestled inside the big trailer and the doors are closed and locked, ready for the storage yard.  A 28-foot trailer will be delivered out at the curb on Wednesday and picked up the following Monday, giving us five days to cram all the belongings I’ve collected over the years into what I hope will be enough space.  Never having moved by commercial truck before, and being an official stuff-monger, I’m a little worried that it won’t all fit.  I guess we’ll see.

Anything that doesn’t fit will have to go with me in the little U-haul trailer I plan to pull behind my Toyota pickup when I finally drive out to the Farm.  That will hold things like my tools and home office stuff, hazmat items that can’t be shipped commercially, things I’ll need right away, things I’ll need here at the house to finish up the landscaping projects – these things will go directly with me to Kentucky.  There should be room for odds and ends.

I started packing bit-by-bit over a year ago in anticipation of this move.  Needing to make room in the hallways to paint and replace baseboards, I rented a little storage space last Spring and started moving books and boxes into it a few at a time.  I boxed up half my fabric stash to make room in a spare bedroom closet for Bear’s model train stuff, and then stored all my hanging clothes to make room in my closet for dresser drawer modules, enabling the rearrangement of the master bedroom into a Bear Cave.

Since the 2nd of March I have been packing full-time; emptying cabinets, dragging boxes out of attics, wrapping things and fitting them into the right size boxes, over and over again.  My thumb tips are cracked and sore from handling all the paper and cardboard, and the dogs spook at the ripping noise the tape rolls make as boxes are assembled and taped up.  The flurry of activity has them on edge.  We’re deep into it, I tell them.  This is how we get to the Farm.

Some days I rue the packrat in me.  Conventional wisdom advocates thinning out stored belongings before a move, donating or throwing away items that can be purchased at your new location.  Well, I don’t want to have to buy a lot of stuff, ever again.  So I grit my teeth and lovingly, carefully, wrap each cider bottle and canning jar in bubble wrap and then a sheet of newspaper, nestle all sorts of useful objects together in boxes and label them for the future, knowing they’ll stay stacked on tall shelves out in the shop building until a need for them arises.

It’s a fine line between having too much stuff, and skillfully conserving resources on hand.  I supposed it is good to have to move it all every twenty years or so, just to force yourself to take an inventory and dispose of what no longer has any value.  I have donated a dozen boxes  of clothing and miscellany to Goodwill, given away California gardening books, and thrown out some things that just disintegrated with age.  But most of what I am packing (and will have to unpack on the other end) is useful, and cherished, and will save me from expending limited funds at some point, so I consider it worth the effort.

Bear will have more than a bed and a TV left, in case you’re wondering.  Mostly I am taking the excess, the dust catchers, and leaving a clean, streamlined, efficient and liveable space.  Just right, in my opinion, for a busy bachelor not much good at keeping things tidy.  And all sorts of room to stack his own collected stuff, which will be another bridge to cross when it’s time for him to join me in Kentucky.

But for now, I pack, and pack, and pack.

Posted in Bear and Thistle West, Moving to the Farm | Tagged , , | 4 Comments »

Shifting gears

March 3, 2012 by thistledog

The arrival of March is a welcome transition for me:  my renovation labors at the condo are officially done.

Although there is much work left there to do, I told Bear I could only work through February, since my household goods packup is scheduled for the third week in March and I have many more boxes to pack, many more cupboards to empty, plus the garage and the two attics as well.  As with everything I’ve turned my hand to these days, the process is taking much longer than I ever would have imagined, and I cannot afford to run myself short now that the moving truck is actually scheduled.  And, I think five months of labor at a project I didn’t need or ask for is quite enough.

Luckily, we’ve been able to enlist the help of our retired neighbor, Les, who enjoys having a painting project away from the house to do and can use some extra cash, so the work will go on.  Though it isn’t finished by a long shot, I’m sorry to say, and Bear will need to start investing weekend time or it’ll be summer before the place is rentable.

I worked up a project list last night of what still needs to be done, and it’s a pretty long list.  The kitchen painting, cupboard repair and upgrades haven’t even been started, the decks are still filthy and full of items destined for the landfill; the laundry room still needs cleaned out and painted, and there’s still a lot of trim work to do.  All the interior doors need sanded and painted and rehung.  Ceiling fans need to be purchased and installed.  The downstairs half-bath needs painted.  Window treatments need to be decided on and installation arranged.  And that’s just the big stuff – there’s a hundred little things too.  I could have worked another two months over there but I have other stuff to do now.

This past week I really put a press on and got all the downstairs baseboards installed and painted, and a goodly amount of the downstairs trim sanded and painted as well.  We had pulled the old baseboards off before painting the walls, as they were terribly beat up and really needed to be replaced.  I taught myself how to install baseboards last Spring on the hallways here at our own house, and was pleased to find the skills had not perished.  With the aid of Les’ trusty miter saw, it only took me two days to cut, nail up, and paint both livingroom, dining room, and one wall in the kitchen.

I think they came out real nice.

The difficult part was all the work on my knees, and the getting up and down over and over again to make adjustment cuts.  (Rule #1 cutting baseboard:  cut less off than you measure for and make kerf-wide cuts until the joint is perfect.  You can always shave a little more off but you can’t put wood back on.)  You see those fifty-dollar knee pads?  I had to buy those last year after my baseboard install project caused my knees to have sharp, shooting pains any time I knelt down.  With the knee pads that pain isn’t a problem, but the old hips and lower back complained mightily, as did my wrists and hands.  I  am glad to be done.

Now I must shift gears and finish the packing up of all the stuff that will go with me to Kentucky, in order to empty out the house and yard and simplify upkeep for the Bachelor Bear, who will stay on for a time at his job here in San Diego.  Moving truck arrives out front on Wednesday the 21st; they will be back to pick it up and take it to the storage lot the following Monday.  Five days to get it loaded – sounds like plenty of time, and it will be, if I have everything boxed and staged and ready to go. 

Ready, set, pack!

Posted in Moving to the Farm, Renovation projects | Tagged , | 3 Comments »

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast

February 19, 2012 by thistledog

It sounds daft, I know, to wish a winter would go by more slowly.  Most folks wish for the exact opposite, fervently hoping February and March will pick up speed and rip by like a sheet of plywood caught in a gale-force wind, bringing warm planting weather behind it.  Hunkered down waiting for spring, the cold dark months usually crawl by with excruciating slowness.  Not this year, not for me.  This winter is the flying sheet of plywood, and I’d give anything to find the kill switch on the wind machine.

Much has been done, but much remains.  Since the rummage sale, I’ve made two trips to Jackson, MS to attend Grazier’s courses given by the Stockman GrassFarmer staff, stopped in Dallas for a weekend to visit my brother and his family, participated in an Appleseed rifle shoot, and made enormous progress on the condo renovation project.  I’ve continued to pack, finishing several rooms and have at long last scheduled my household goods move, putting that target on the calendar, finally.  The point of no return is now behind me, and as the gale continues to howl around me I’m struggling to stay focused and not fumble.

Good shooters learn a lot of techniques that have a great deal of applicability to everyday life.  One of them is how to make a quick, effective magazine change.  Many timed courses of fire require a magazine change, and it’s a good skill to have.  That rifle’s not going to do even the best shooter any good if she’s spent her bullets and can’t get a full mag back in before the charging bear is upon her.  Any exigent scenario would apply, not saying I’m a bear-killer or anything.  But in the heat of a moment as critical as reloading to shoot the charging bear closing in from 30 feet away, the very simple process of dropping an empty magazine, picking up a full one, inserting it into the rifle and charging the chamber for a shot, will become enormously complex, and easily gooned up with unintended fumble factor.  That’s why a mag change is considered an essential element of marksmanship skill, and is part of every test.

The phrase they teach to help us learn it is, “slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

Think about it.  The main reason for fumbling is hurrying.  And who wouldn’t be hurrying to shove in fresh rounds to kill a charging bear?  But panicked hurrying is the enemy of calm, dexterous movement, and you need dexterity to effect a rapid mag change.  Slowing down, although counterintuitive when you are counting teeth in the angry bear’s mouth, will get that magazine in faster, because it eliminates the inevitable fumble factor.  Hard to do in the face of danger, so we memorize the mantra, and practice, practice, practice.

I am fighting the fumble factor in my life right now.  Finishing my projects here in California and getting myself moved to the Farm before summer, is my mag change.  Bullet on target will be me and the dogs in the little Toyota truck, pulling into the driveway of the farmhouse.   The complexity of the tasks here, the enormity of work remaining to be done, is the charging bear.  There are days when I look around in complete despair, thinking how impossible a task I have in front of me – so much stuff to pack, so much work to be done, and that bear is RIGHT THERE in front of me!

Those thoughts don’t help, they only make me lose focus and motivation and I find myself circling around not really getting anything accomplished, and feeling sorry for myself to boot.  I even start thinking I will NEVER get to the farm, that I’m going to be stuck here in suburbia forever!  Of course that’s just nonsense, but it has the same effect on my ability to get things done in a day, as hurrying and fumbling to change out my rifle’s magazine.

I can’t let the fear and panic I feel prevent me from getting the fresh mag in, and getting the shot off.  I refuse to let that happen.  So I will say, and learn, and practice:  slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

And I will shoot that charging bear before she gets to me.

Posted in Bear and Thistle West, Moving to the Farm, Renovation projects, Riflery | 4 Comments »

Rummage

January 15, 2012 by thistledog

Perhaps I should have advertised it as an estate sale.  It wasn’t properly a yard sale, as the condo has no yard or driveway; nor was it a garage sale, as the parking garage is underground and not a place to hold a sale accessible to pedestrians.  It was Bear’s idea, a couple of months ago, to sell the leftover items of value right there inside the condo, instead of hauling them back to the house and laying them out on the driveway for a yard sale.  I wasn’t sure if I was really up for pulling a sale together, but I finally decided to go ahead with it and picked this weekend’s Saturday as the date.  Wondering how to list it, I called it a rummage sale, not realizing that term is normally used for junk sales organized by churches or other non-profits.  

We advertised in the local paper and on Craigslist and other online yardsale boards.  A goodly number of people stopped by, to my surprise.  Quite a lot of stuff headed out the front door at the fire-sale prices I posted, too.  We met a number of locals and neighbors, out walking on a Saturday morning who stopped by to see our sale, which was a nice bonus – I’m a huge believer in getting to know your neighbors.  The dear little old lady across the street came back three times for more goodies.  And told me I should have called it an estate sale, since so much of what was laid out for display was much nicer than rummage sale stuff.

None of the barware or stemware or dishes sold, nor did any of the furniture.  Probably because rummage sale goers aren’t looking for that sort of thing.  We may keep some of the old crystal, if I can find the storage space.   It’s an old set of fine, thin pieces of all shapes and sizes, originally twelve of each, etched with a delicate bamboo leaf design.  Very asian or oriental; I wish I could find the right buyer who would appreciate its fragile beauty.  I’d rather keep it for posterity than donate it, if a buyer can’t be found.  And Bear will have room for the art deco curio cabinet, as well as the oak sofa table, once I pack up all my stuff for the Kentucky move.  We just needed to whittle the pile of stuff down, and we did.

Washing everything up for display took two days, but the place looked very nice, like a little antique store, when I opened the door for business at 9 am Saturday morning.  I woke at 4 and arrived at 6 to put price tags on everything, and though it was a scramble to get it all done in time, it worked out fine.  I had customers waiting to come in at 8:45.  Bear showed up with coffee and extra newspaper for wrapping things at 9:30 and was a big help plugging things in for folks and taking the dog for a walk every couple of hours.  Plenty of customers went away with bargains, I made enough money to paint the downstairs, and have a lot less stuff to box up to donate or store.  I’d say it was a successful endeavor. 

A lot of work, and I’m glad it’s done.

Posted in Renovation projects | Tagged , | 6 Comments »

Aced it!

January 9, 2012 by thistledog

Posted in Renovation projects | Tagged , | 2 Comments »

Plumbing 101

January 9, 2012 by thistledog

Although installing new bathroom sink and tub fixtures does not exactly qualify me as a bonafide plumber, it has certainly made me appreciate the skill and patience required to do even this mundane plumbing task.  That beautiful sparkling sink faucet and drain took me the better part of a day with my shoulders wedged into the cupboard below and my head and arms contorted for what seemed like hours, undoing old corroded connections and assembling new ones.

I’ve never installed a sink faucet before; this was my first.  Always left “that stuff” to Bear, the handyman extraordinaire.  But he’s not available for this condo renovation project so I figured I could learn how to do it myself.  And I’m pleased to say it turned out very well.

The tub fixtures, however, are another story.  (Notice the use of the present tense and lack of a photo of the finished product.)  I knew they would be, but I entered the den of snakes anyway, and have some bites to prove it.  I bravely bought the set to match the sink faucet, and discovered upon trying to install it that they aren’t all universal mounts.  That is, the new faucet handle wouldn’t just fit right onto the existing valve.  It was pretty obvious when I got all the parts laid out and took the backing plate off.  What really had me scratching my head though, was the valve body included in the box – I thought, surely I don’t have to replace this whole thing, do I? 

So I called a plumber.  The ad in the Yellow Pages said “Free Estimates” so I thought, what the heck, let’s find out how much it will take to get it done right.  Plus, I wanted to know how much it would cost to have the tub drain replaced, as I had heard that is a difficult job and well worth hiring a plumber for.

A mountain of a man with “Joey” embroidered on his extra-large blue shirt arrived in about 45 minutes and I briefed him on my dilemma.  Really nice guy.  He complimented me on the sink faucet installation, and then gave me a huge education on “real” plumbing.  Basically, Joey said, we can do anything you want.  But replacing that Moen faucet with a Delta faucet would mean tearing out some stuff, which could be done, but it’d be pricey.  Pricey like, $900+.  He suggested I go to a local supplier (great tip) and purchase a Moen “trim kit,” taking the cartridge with me to make sure it fit.  He even told me how to take the cartridge out.  Then he quoted me $225 per tub for him to install the trim kit, which includes shower head, tub spigot, and faucet assembly.  $375 if I didn’t buy it myself.

I’m pretty sure he knew he was giving me all the information I needed to finish the job myself.  It was a friendly 15-minute conversation and yes, I asked a bunch of questions but he offered up a lot of detail I didn’t pump him for.  I thanked him for his time and said we would think about it and give a call back on Monday if we decided to have him do it.  On the way home I stopped by Ferguson Supply as he’d suggested and picked up the trim kit to install the next day.

Well, the removal and replacement of the cartridge wasn’t as straightforward as Joey had made it sound.  Long story short, the new one didn’t go in right and the danged faucet wouldn’t completely shut off after I got everything assembled.  Then when I went to pull the cartridge back out, it wouldn’t budge.  Crap, I thought.  That’s not right, it should slide right out.  But it only came out halfway, and I didn’t know if I just needed to use a little more muscle or if tugging harder would really mess things up.  I was beginning to think I might have to pay the guy that $225 just to get me out of my fix.

But first I called Bear.  He eventually came over and, as I hoped, tugged a little harder (with 200 pounds behind it,) and the cartridge popped right out.  Sure enough, it was damaged – the rubber seal at the back was torn and half missing.  We decided I should have greased it before inserting it; a minor detail Joey didn’t share.  I was just relieved it came out without destroying anything internal and I hadn’t messed things up too much.  I picked up a replacement cartridge last night and today I’m ready to try it again.

I will admit, it would have been much easier to just pay the quoted price and have it done without the headache.  I thought I really screwed things up there for a while, which was not a good feeling.  Of course I wouldn’t have learned anything about replacing shower fixtures, but I would have skipped a lot of anxiety and hassle.  Would it have been worth two-and-a-quarter?  I thought that sounded a little pricey, but the shower faucet doesn’t work yet and I won’t rest easy until it does.  We’ll see if I pass the test today.

Posted in Renovation projects | Tagged , , | 7 Comments »

Winter gardening @ 32.65 N

January 6, 2012 by thistledog

I will miss this.  Chard, beets, broccoli, carrots, peas, lettuce, turnips.  In January.  I love my little SoCal garden.

Posted in Bear and Thistle West | Tagged , | Leave a Comment »

Renovation dog

January 1, 2012 by thistledog

In case I haven’t mentioned it yet, the obstacle that looms largest in my Path to Farm Freedom is the cleaning out and renovation of a two-bedroom, three-story condominium that now belongs to Bear.  Its owner, a long-time friend of his, died of a stroke this past Spring and left it to him in her will.  You would think that would be a very positive thing, to inherit a property that can be rented out to generate cash flow, and generally speaking that is true.  All you have to do is clean it out, fix it up, and find good tenants.  Simple, right?

Alas, these things never are.

First of all, the place was stuffed to the rafters with too much furniture, junk and trash, and was incredibly filthy.  A small dog and a large cat kept indoors ruined every inch of carpeting upstairs and did serious damage to the walls.  Windows left open to the elements for years (you can do that in San Diego) resulted in damaged windowsills and left mold and mildew everywhere.  Cigarette smoke stained the ceilings.  No serious cleaning had been done in more than a decade.  Boxes and bags of miscellaneous stuff were stacked everywhere, and kitchen cabinets were ruined by spilled contents.  Junk everywhere, intermixed with items of value, had to be sorted through and disposed of. 

Secondly, without disparaging anyone or going into too much detail, this is a solo effort; a workforce of one.  As my grandmother would have said, “Being handy never gets you anything but a lot of hard work.”  I have experienced the truth of her wry little observation many times in my life, and this instance is no different.  Because I am She Who Makes Order out of Chaos, and Bear is inept at the most basic household duties and is, I am speaking kindly here, motivationally challenged.  But this condo needs to be rented out (not a good time to sell anything, do I even need to mention that) and I won’t leave him hanging with a stone like this tied to his neck.  He could never afford to hire someone to do what I am doing.

So I am working like a dog – a renovation dog, since I really want to get the hell out of suburbia and get to my farm, and I can’t go until this is done.  I started the clean-out process in October, as soon as it was legally available, working four hours at a time on weekends – the longest I could stand to be in that hell-hole.  Bag after bag of trash carried down two flights of stairs and across the parking garage to the dumpster didn’t even seem to make a dent.  The place stunk, the work was depressing, and I could barely see my progress.  But November allowed me more time, and I doggedly persisted with my four-hour work stints, until the upstairs bedrooms were stripped to just their furniture.  Fifty-seven large bags of crap drug to the dumpster.  God forgive me for all the glass not recycled, the stuff just needed to go.

It took more than a little elbow grease to clean up and restore a maple bedroom set and the large oak entertainment center before I could post them for sale on Craigslist, but it paid off and they both sold.  Several other items are still advertised, waiting for buyers.  Lots of stuff donated to GoodWill and Father Joe’s Villages, but lots of stuff still remains.  Pulling everything out of the upstairs bedrooms was a huge step, as it allowed me to start the painting and repairing process.  I had hoped to have the upstairs done by the end of December and ready for carpet installation, but I missed that mark.  Still painting bathrooms and replacing fixtures, and the stairwell hallway walls will need painted after that, then I can move downstairs. 

I don’t think I work as fast as I used to.  But two rooms and a hallway painted from top to bottom, including closets and door jambs, various wall repairs and a rebuilt windowsill, is a good start.  I’m working 8 hours a day now at it (it’s a 30-minute drive to the condo) and I hope to pick up speed as I get more efficient.  And I will need to; the winter is getting short and I want to be in Kentucky in time to put in a garden. 

This damned condo renovation project is the figurative grenade rolled under my door that threatens to blow up all my plans for finishing up here in San Diego and getting myself out to the Farm.  I should be out back in my own little suburban yard finishing terrace walls and stairs, resetting flagstone paths out front, and renovating the landscaping so it can be maintained by a gardening service in my absence.  I need to clean out the garage, pack 7 tons of household goods, and get it moved to storage.  There is a lot that will need to be done this winter, to earn my liberty, my ticket to freedom.

Wish me luck, cheer me on, pray for strength and patience for me.  I will need a lot of all those things to get this done.

Posted in Renovation projects | 4 Comments »

Two herding dogs

December 21, 2011 by thistledog

Every time I talk to Malcolm, my neighbor up the hill from the farm in Kentucky, he reminds me I’m going to need a good dog when I move out there.  “To let you know where the snakes are,” he says very seriously.  I always smile and agree, knowing my eyes are not calibrated to recognize Eastern Copperheads like they were once tuned to the distinctive markings of the Western Diamondback Rattlesnake, whose territory I lived in many years ago in Colorado.  Malcolm thinks a little terrier dog would be good, but my dogs will also need to be herding dogs, to help me handle my little flock of sheep and herd of cows.  It would be good if they could also point out snakes and various other dangers in the Kentucky bush, but the livestock skills are paramount.  I’m particularly intrigued by the English Shepherd breed, for its verstility, but in all actuality any herding breed will do.

Back in late November while I was on terminal leave from the Navy, I started a daily routine of walking, determined to shed a few “desk pilot” pounds and get my strength back up for farm work.  A brisk walk is just what most doctors order for those of us over 50 with aching joints, and I reason it will get me ready for walking my pastures each day.

One morning as I passed yet another neighbor walking their dog, I realized this is the perfect time to find my herding dogs and start working myself and them into a useful little pack, now that I am free of the 9-to-5 and have time to train and socialize a dog or two in the couple of months remaining in suburbia.  I had done some online searching in Kentucky for herding breeds at local shelters and rescue organizations, with very little luck:  the vast majority of adoptable dogs back there are hounds, beagles, labs and pit bulls.  But here in southern California with its scrub ranches and western cowboy presence, I found my herding dogs.

The mugshot above is Skeet, a 7-yr-old smooth-coat Border Collie rescue.  She was rescued twice, in fact; I am her third “owner” (as if anyone really owns a dog) and, hopefully, her last.  Skeet’s registered name is Voort’s Sleet, according to her American Border Collie Association papers, which show strong working stock lineage on both dam and sire sides.  She is a McCallum granddaughter on her dam’s side, one of the best-known working lines of BC’s in this country.  She supposedly worked cattle for her first owner, and she may have great potential to be a good worker for me with that background, but until I find her a trio of sheep to fetch she’s just another wackadoodle border collie, with fear issues and no way to communicate them to me.

I call her Skeet because I just couldn’t get the word “sleet” to roll off my tongue and a working dog’s name gets used a lot.  It sounds so similar, she doesn’t know the difference now.  Two weeks ago I took her in for major dental work to fix four broken teeth that almost certainly were causing her constant pain, and so she eats much better now and actually chews on toys and picks up tennis balls with her mouth, which she could not do before, but her fearfulness has not abated.  I was hoping it would, but there is other baggage in that beautiful skull.  Mostly she is randomly terrified of strange surroundings and noises – walking on the street through a normal neighborhood with cars driving by is sometimes okay but kids scraping past on skateboards makes her flop like a fish on the end of her lead.  So we walk the chapparal canyon mostly, and she is fine out there, trotting right along beside me on a loose lead.  I believe once I get her to the Farm and it becomes familiar to her, that fearful part of her personality will fade.  But for now, she is a delicate butterfly with wings that shred at the slightest puff of wind, and I love her.

Herding dog #2 is Bandit, a yearling Australian Cattle Dog rescue from the same organization up in Riverside, California.  Bandit is the calm but playful counterbalance to Skeet’s wiggityness.  He showed excellent herding instinct for his age when tested on sheep, and I took a chance and agreed to take them both on the spot.  I won’t ever regret adopting Bandit, while there are moments already when I wonder what I was thinking when I adopted a Border Collie.  This little guy is a sweetheart, the loop to my velcro pile, sleeping on the floor right behind me in the office as I work, following me from room to room whatever the task.  He trots along on my right side, unperturbed by pretty much everything, attentive and happy to be alive.

Unfortunately, as yet the two of them are not buddies; Skeet snaps and growls when he comes too close to her with his bouncy sloppy playful puppy personality.  They’ve tangled once already and the old One-tooth Lady wears a scar on her muzzle from his sharp young teeth.  But they’re better together today than they were when he arrived two weeks ago, and I am hopeful that at the very least they will eventuallly hammer out a truce with me in the balanced center. 

My days are now measured by the waking of dogs, the walking of dogs, the feeding of dogs, the playing with dogs, and the vacumning up of endless drifts of dog hair.  After thirty years, I am once again a dog person, a dog parent.  They inspire me to complete my tasks so we can all three get the hell out of suburbia and to the Farm, where we belong.

Posted in Dogs | Tagged , , | 5 Comments »

First day of retirement sunrise – 1 Dec 2011

December 8, 2011 by thistledog

I don’t know if it is traditional to take a photo of one’s first sunrise of retirement, but my dear friend Liz reminded me to do just that about a week before my big day.  She probabably caught the idea from a recent TV ad for retirement planning but hey, it’s a good idea, don’t you think? 

Capturing the dawning moment of the rest of my life – what a splendid tradition to participate in.  Thank you Liz, for motivating me to pack my camera and tripod down into the chapparal canyon behind our house on that morning walk with Skeet.  It’s not the most perfectly-composed photo, but the best I could do with the delayed-shutter function and a befuddled dog tangling her leash around my legs.  I shall be able to remember that morning forever now.

To refresh the story (which I have let languish far too long):  I have finally reached my 24 year mark with the Navy, and chose to retire at my current paygrade of Lieutenant instead of accepting the promotion to Lieutenant Commander, which would have obligated me for another two years of service.  Why turn that promotion down and retire now?  Because I am no spring chicken, son; and it is high time for me to start the farming enterprise I have been planning for so many years, out in Kentucky on the little farm we bought five years ago. 

Farming is hard work, yes it is.  And I’m not getting any younger; ergo, there’s no time to waste. 

This will be a solo (ad)venture for me for the first few years, as Bear is still gainfully employed in his civil-service position and wants to run with it to his second 20-year retirement.  (He finished up with the Navy in 2000.)  So he’ll stay here at Bear and Thistle West for a time, babysit the underwater mortgage until the housing market starts recovering, and keep the lights on at 637 Redlands.  It’s a non-traditional plan but we hatched it together many years ago and it still works for both of us, so I will soon be Kentucky bound to start my herds and flocks and raise a few chickens too.

Soon.  Not tomorrow, though I would have liked to have been there by now.  However, as my official title is She Who Builds, Landscapes, and Paints Walls, I can’t leave until all the building, landscaping, and wall painting projects are complete.  Mind you, I’ve been working on most of these projects for the past couple of years, and I would have liked to have had them all done by now.  But they’re not, and so I must stay to finish them, and set the Bachelor Bear up for many years of low-maintenance, stress-free home life.

My labors of Hercules, as it were.  There aren’t twelve of them, and they’re not treacherous, but I can’t have my reward (move to the Farm) until they’re done.  And how long, you ask, will these suburban labors take me to finish?  I’m hoping only a couple of months.   So please bear with me as I blog about retaining walls and condo renovation and re-setting flagstone walkways and other non-farm tasks; bit by bit I swear I’ll get this pile-o-work done and get myself and my dogs out to Kentucky where my beautiful farm and the work of a lifetime awaits.

Hoping to travel out in March, before the pastures really start growing, and in time to till up a garden spot.

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