V.2.1.

This past week, Tom and I were making pretty good progress on the Ark. We’ve easily exceeded the two of every animal requirement (we apparently have enough to populate a second planet) and we were trying to decide which energy efficiency tax credits would apply to the new construction. Sadly, our work was interrupted when our Bank of Ark Card reduced our credit limit. So we are forced to wait out the deluge from the cozy confines of the chicken coop, which is fortunately well-supplied with eggs, resentful chickens, raw milk and 10 lbs of fresh kale (thank you, Keith and Michelle).

Like many other people this past year, we learned pretty quickly that we will need to change a lot of the assumptions we’d made about our place in the world. It’s becoming apparent to us that “survival of the fittest” probably means “survival of those who can get their heads around their new realities the quickest.” Our strategy involves paying off our few remaining credit balances and being conservative in our spending. These two steps will give us the most flexibility should our situation deteriorate. But when the list of things that can no longer be assumed includes employment and retirement, we really have two choices. We can live in a state of perpetual disappointment mourning the loss of our plan. Or, we can recognize that the small gifts we sometimes give ourselves, like an afternoon with a best friend, are now bright and important events to be savored and remembered.

Last night, while the wind was howling and the rain was blowing sideways, we made our first fire of the season. The horses, cows and other animals were tucked up high and dry for the night and we curled up in bed with a glass of wine, a trashy, Spanish magazine (we are learning, or relearning the language, depending, and we can almost say “lápiz de labios” without snickering), and a mandolin that we are attempting to master. My accent has become so bad from lack of exercise that I sound as if I am speaking Spanglish in southwest Arkansas. Neither of us has yet managed to coax the mandolin through an entire tune, but over the pounding of the rain, we thought we could hear some faint but enthusiastic replies from the direction of the pond. For a few hours, the world was smaller and kinder, and defining the long term wasn’t quite so important.

Okay, so this wasn’t exactly the plan we started with. But we left a lot of really important things off the Beta version (and wrote in some real garbage). Hopefully, Tom and Jorg Plan v.2.1 will have better priorities. And maybe a Gantt chart. I always liked those.

Buenas noches, y’all.

(Photo: Noah's Ark, by Edward Hicks, 1846)