Hell’s Half Acre

I’ve been putting off posting for a very long time. I can find so very many things to do so that I simply don’t have the time. Jamie is gone, he didn’t even say goodbye this morning when he left. Ever since we’ve come back tothe US and he has been visiting bike shops (because they call to him, like sirens or illicit lovers or beasts of prey) he has gotten the bike blood back in his blood. He wants a shop. His shop. His bike shop.

He and Shawn were going to open a bike shop way back when we only had a kid or two. Then he and Nick were going to. Then we uprooted ourselves and sold our soles (heee, our soles and souls) to the Ameri-Camp devil and have been burning up the roads ever since. He’s got the fever again and even wants to help total strangers in bike shops when he thinks the staff aren’t doing right by them. So off he headed to Vegas, baby, to the International (is it?) Bike People Bike Retail People and the People that Sell them Stuff Convention in Vegas, Baby. I don’t think it is actually called that. But it probably should be. Assuming he survived the drive to the airport and the flight (no reason to think he didn’t, Grandma Elinor!) and isn’t drunk off his ass in some Vegas, Baby hotel room, he’s probably having the time of his life. Again. This is a yearly convention thing for Bike People and he goes every year.

So Jamie is gone, the kids are dropping, one at a time like flies with the cold of the century (did 8 months in Mexico suddenly make my kids irresistable hosts for cold germs?) and miracle of miracles we’re staying in a stick house while the trailer gets spiffied up (warranty work that almost EVERYONE does) and I wonder what the hell we’re going to do with the rest of our lives. Makes for interesting late nights. Oh, and Jamie didn’t say goodbye as he bounded off to Vegas, Baby. Did I mention that? Vegas. That’s the Mormon town. Right? I’m pretty sure it is…

Anyway, so I’m torn between moving the kids to Eugene, Oregon, home to large roaming bands of unschooled children, and staying on the road the rest of our life. I’m looking at becoming a medical transcription person so I can earn so money (the house sale profit won’t last forever, trust me) or getting a J.O.B. and building a stick house. I’m really liking George’s approach more and more. Thirty miles a day (keeps gas costs down) and never paying for a night camp. That would leave only about $3000 of food a month to cover. These kids are really starting to eat. And maybe someone can explain why it is, night after night, belly after straining after-dinner belly, that they are hungriest right before going to bed?

I really have nothing to say but you poor (now what can I use for B@stard?) people (hmmmm….) got suckered in…

One of these days…

I’m working on moving all the pictures from typepad to this space. Slowly. VERY slowly.