hiking without happy meals; a modern paradigm chronicling the struggles, pitfalls,
& successes of life, running, writing, urban farming,
& home schooling in these crazy modern days.
Life is our classroom.
As I stand in what will become the kitchen of the WestValley house I can’t help but to imagine my life here.It’s not completely an insane fantasy.The idea that the company (Colby’s company) will finish the house, put it on the market, we will move in, & the farm will get the make over it needs, has been on the table from the start.3 months is the guess of how long we would live in the WV house. I wonder three months or winter? of spring? of summer?
What's not to love, you move into a freshly gutted house while your place gets remodeled? Well, it’s far away from everything.Colby said we would take only what we needed Beach’s school work, our clothing, & the dogs.This leaves me picturing the cats sleeping in my bed & using my kitchen.The chickens, the cats, and all else will be fine since someone will be there working all the time.And that someone is Colby.
There is this other idea that we will offer part of the house to the Alex-es (Alex & Alex).What an interesting idea the two little hipsters with the old hippies & Beach.I have agreed to do it, if it all works out I would move here, for a little bit. But I am very torn.The houses Colby builds are beautiful.I don’t want to fall in love with it.I don’t want to live between 2 spaces. I think I would rather make do with layers of construction dust and a house full of tools than risk falling in love with a house that isn’t mine.
The Boy had asked me if I was afraid of the house and I told him I was.I’m changing my answer: I am afraid of loving it.