Etsy@Six Degrees

We recently opened our Etsy.com store and it’s been a long time coming. Opening the “store” seemed a perfect idea. I’ve been collecting fine craft and sewing supplies for many years, but I had stopped using them a few years back. My empty nester house was filled like a craft store, closets and shelves overflowing. It seemed a perfect fit in our recent stint of unemployment. We had extra time and extra stuff and arts in crafts are in my blood, a family tradition. As long as we used only personal supplies that we already had, the risk would be time alone. We could make lemonade from our lemons. I guess we are not the only people to decide that crafting might be the solution. This week there was an audio spoof on The Onion, “80% of the Nation now selling handmade jewelry“. Though there is currently no jewelry in our collection, there’s nothing quite like seeing yourself parodied just as you are getting into something you’ve been working on pretty hard for a while, but in today’s age everything is spoofed and you’d better be able to see the humor, so I write this for others who may be considering doing something similar.

There were several challenges in opening our new store, large and small, and the jury is still out on our attempt to make lemonade. Here’s are some examples of small: A serger is the machine that makes the overlock stitch you see on store bought clothes (especially stretchy ones). A serger comes with these nice bent tweezers that are very useful. They look like a dentists tool and they help you to thread the needles because fingers don’t fit very well between the knives that trim the fabric and the needles that pierce it. The problem is that these handy tweezers are useful for everything under the sun and actually keeping them in the serger tool door where they belong is a challenge that I am not always up to. I should have several pairs and keep them placed at strategic places around the house. Oh, and there’s the baby doll crib I’m working on. I need to use ribbon. I have a box with literally hundreds of spools of ribbon, but do I have the right color? The idea that there would be no risk but time, well that sounded good in theory.

And the example of large? Well, that same Babylock serger that I bought when sergers were new to the home market was an experiment. It wasn’t just a threading problem, it stopped working altogether, just when I had a lot of Halloween stock underway and not much time to complete it. So here I am, in a rush and the sewing machine repair man is telling me that they didn’t know how to cast the metal when my machine was made. They used pot metal and if the machine sits for long periods of time it often ceases to function. I’m thinking “They knew how to cast engine blocks long before that, the knowledge wasn’t transferable?” Regardless of why they did it badly, they did, and I am the beneficiary of that unfortunate fact. The cost of the replacement part and service to install it was close to the cost of a new machine, so they stopped making the part. I had taken my Babylock to a non Babylock dealer and I did that for a very specific reason. I had come out on the wrong end of a repair in the past and didn’t want to support the dealer who had made me pay for their mistake. Still, this was information that needed confirmation. I swallowed, went to the local Babylock dealer and asked. The representative said “Sounds right” before moving into sales mode. The machine that would give the best value/cost trade off if my business takes off is a third higher than what I originally paid. I’m thinking of the no lose, no financial cost, only time investment decision that I made when I decided to start, and that was several unexpected costs ago. The decision to buy some type of serger seems pretty clear, at the same time, it doesn’t. When I get ready to buy, I remember that the machine I want comes from a dealer that I don’t want. The Etsy store has not progressed to the point where we know that we will make it a business rather than a hobby. I need the serger for most of the things I want to sew, but the decision to buy gets stuck in my throat. Now I’m looking at Christmas, I’m even looking at it late and still I can’t follow through to make the purchase. It’s more than the risk of spending a large sum of money when you started off with a no risk game plan. It’s deciding to give that money to a business that didn’t treat you well last time you gave them a couple of thousand dollars.

There is the up side though. We really are having a blast imagineering. Creative pursuits are by far the most energizing (and agonizing). We are having fun collaborating, asking each other for second opinions. We get so excited when we make a sale. We’ll be beside ourselves if we ever make a profit and turn it into a going business. You’d think that we were 5 years old and really had made lemonade, selling it on the corner. And, we watch a lot. We are in a fledgling stage and trying to decide which of our talents to pursue. Kids in a candy store. We watch the Etsy Store page to see what people are looking at and try to decide which projects to prioritize. There is a whole community to the Etsy.com organization. People put together collections and interact in various ways. It’s an adventure and a journey and all those things that dreams are made up of. One of the reasons the idea has such appeal is the real dream. If it were to really take off it would be wonderful to build it into the idea that I wrote about in this story.

We invite you to join us! Tell us what you like. Tell us what you’d like to see.

SixDegrees

Compounding Benefits in all Walks of Life

by Karen

I read a book on Human Resources recently. It posed the question of whether of not there would be a workforce shortage in the coming years. In fact, more than one book posed the question. In light of the current unemployment rate, automation, the increasing life span and the accompanying need and/or desire to work later in life, the question was a surprise. I’ll even say it, it seemed almost silly in the current atmosphere, but the book did address the issue of a workforce that would work later in life, a “longer living workspan”. The author considered the availability of older workers to fill this expected gap in available employees to be overestimated and used numbers from the United Nations (UN) World Health Organization (WHO) for Healthy Life Expectancy (HALE) to support the argument, saying that though the United States had a long lifespan, it had the lowest workspan in developed countries. While we here in the United States are expected to live longer than people in many countries, we are not expected to spend as much of that time healthy enough to work. There is a gap. As an American I have an interest in the gap and I do not like the expectations at all.

This book was using 2001 figures and I wondered if there were more recent numbers. I went to the WHO database website. In fact, there are numbers updated in 2003. This page has a convenient filter on the side so that you can isolate only the countries of interest rather than page through all 191 internationally recognized countries. Not knowing exactly which countries this researcher chose as “developed”, I picked the G-7 nations of Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, United Kingdom and the United States According to the 2003 data the United States has improved the healthy life expectancy a bit, however, we still lag behind all of the other G-7 countries in healthy or working life expectancies and Japan remained on top, improving by a much larger proportion. The HALE expectancy for someone in the US born in 2003 is 71 and the same number for someone in Japan is 78. Let’s put the workforce shortage question aside for a moment and focus on something that I find enormously disturbing. Weather or not I am fortunate enough to be able to retire when I wish, I still want to be healthy enough to work because healthy enough to work is also healthy enough to play.

I have been to Japan twice and I love it. What ever they are doing I am likely willing to adopt. So, what is different in Japan and how can I get 7 more years of healthy life expectancy? Stress is known the “silent killer”, but that would not be the difference because they have equal if not greater levels of stress when compared to us.

One thing they do have that we do not is widespread public transportation. What difference does that make you ask? In Japan they use the public transportation and that means that they walk. People walk from the train station to home, to the market etc. They also bicycle a lot. In some places there are bicycle garages. Some are even quite large and resemble American parking decks in many ways.

Is their solution to commuting the answer to my health question? It could be. There are countless articles and studies from reputable, unbiased organizations showing the benefits of walking. Here is what the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) has to say on the health benefits of walking, or other “moderate intensity aerobic exercise”. The minimum level of recommended exercise is not optional for them, it is built in to every day.

That’s not all though, there are compounding effects when using public transportation. When you take Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit (MARTA) you change your carbon footprint and help to increase the number of summer days when Kennesaw Mountain is visible from Stone Mountain and vice versa. You decrease the number of days when ground level ozone is above healthy levels and reduce the number of SMOG alerts. This also helps us to keep our federal funding for road projects, so public transportation even benefits motorists (in more ways than one).

Change is scary though and we Americans love our cars. I have had more than one friend who didn’t like public transportation and didn’t want it to be funded or built. One couldn’t even really articulate why, she just liked her Suburban and didn’t want to consider anything else for anyone else. I have argued that one doesn’t need to use public transportation to support it or benefit from it. If drivers could support my ability to have public transportation, I wouldn’t be on the road competing for space in and we would both spend less time commuting, and have an over all lower tax burden per capita. Sometimes working through a change in attitudes is worth the work.

So, if you are open to a committed relationship with public transportation what would that be like? It is something I can only dream about. I chose my current home for reasons that at the time were more pressing than access to MARTA. That meant moving into a public transportation black hole, at least as far as commuting into Atlanta is concerned. However, I know people (outside NYC) that do not own, and never have owned a car. One of my grandmother’s never learned to drive. I really thought long and hard about Granny’s decision. It would be easy to see it as a weakness, a disability. My grandmother was born before 1919. In other words she was born into a world that did not consider a woman eligible to vote by reason of gender. She wasn’t weak though. She was really quite independent. In her home town there was a single taxi. She had to plan because there was only the one. If someone was using it, she was out of luck. But she did plan. She went where she wanted to go and had her groceries delivered (from two blocks away).

Pamela and her walking shoes

Pamela and her walking shoes

I know someone much younger though, Pamela, who has a committed relationship with public transportation. A friend and former co-worker who is also quite independent, she never chose to learn to drive either. I don’t know if I could be that committed, especially in a country with the limited options we have here in the US. I would need at least one car for the household. Occasionally I just need to get out of the city. Ironically, I need my car to get away from all the cars! But, Pamela doesn’t feel limited any more than my grandmother did. She does what she wants to do, and I’ll admit that there are times when I’m fascinated and a little jealous of her decision. She has no auto expenses. I love the sound of it, No auto expenses! Do you know what that means?

The average person (not the high end person) spends a little over $600 a month on auto expenses once insurance, fuel and maintenance are considered. Many companies subsidize public transportation for their employees, but let’s look at the numbers for someone who doesn’t work for one of those companies. Let’s take that over six hundred number down to $500 so that it allows some money for both local and occasional distance travel. What happens when your budget gets a monthly $500 shot in the arm? Let’s say that you were able to save that money and get the proverbial average of 8% return on it. Over a 40 year work life that comes to $1,757,147. Yes, better than 1.7 million dollars. I could give up my car and my lottery habit for that kind of money! Yes, a change could do me good.

So to recap, if you have the option and become totally committed to public transportation, you can feel better, reduce health risks, increase healthy lifespan, reduce carbon and other emissions, breathe easier and when it is all done have a big pile of money! It is time for a change isn’t it?

I used the savings calculator here if you would like to check your own figures and see what could happen in your own situation.

Canoeing the Hooch: An Elaborate Ruse

The time/money trade off is at the heart of the challenge in making it through a span of unemployment. There are things you would like to do, and there is time to do them because you can’t spend all of every day seeking that elusive next position, but making the emergency fund last as long as it needs to is the background stress making you wonder if it is really ok to take some time for fun. We thought a canoe trip would strike the balance. We already had the canoe, it was not motorized so no registration was required. It would cost parking fees and gas. We were going to canoe the Hooch, from Powers Island to the boat ramp Northridge Parkway Parking lot in West Palisades Recreation Area so gas would be minimal and parking would be $3 at each of two parking lots. This was the same route I had taken on an outing with the Georgia Conservancy in a raft with a friend from Missouri a few years back and I knew that it was a nice stretch. Russ had Monday off, so we had a plan.

It rained all evening Sunday and the forecast called for more on Monday. We talked about the effect on the river and and changed the alarm. Monday’s weather was looking better and about mid morning I said that I was tempted to go look at the river to see what it really looked like and Russ said that he thought we might as well take the canoe while we were at it. In for a penny… The river looked just as I expected it to, fast, muddy and high. I said I was 50/50 and he could push me either way. Russ wanted to go. We had taken separate rental kayaks on flat unchallenging water together, but had never floated together in a canoe. I had been out with my father as a child, but he always made all the decisions and did all of the paddling. There is only so much you can pick up through osmosis. So I said a little more, that I didn’t have the skill and couldn’t swim against the current, only at an angle with it, but I was happy to go if he felt that he had the skill to go alone and I would help as I could. He was confident. We dropped the car and headed up to Powers Island to put in. There was a put in on the narrower east side of the island with a course marked. We decided that was the least troublesome landing to use in high water and we were off.

Once you float underneath 285 there are a couple of apartment complexes and then things begin to look remote. There are hiking trails, but not much human activity until you near the take out ramp. Traffic sounds are quieted by the tree covered bluffs. Heron, ducks and other wildlife can be seen on the river and there is very little sense over this part of the river that you are in the middle of a large metropolitan area. We were having fun and getting used to paddling together. Russ was steering and giving me instruction the way we learned in previous raft trips. I was very comfortable. The things he was telling me to do were the things I would have chosen myself and we were working well together. We sailed through Devil’s Race Course and Russ decided we should pull out and look at the river ahead. We pulled out on the west side and there was a map posted on the trail along with a good view of the river ahead. We got back in and headed downstream again.

Things were going great until they weren’t. I’m not sure what turned us over or exactly where we were. I didn’t feel it when it passed underneath me so it must have been just a tiny unexpected bump as opposed to all the more seemingly risky things that we had passed through without incident. That little surprise and boom. As soon as we came up and both grabbed the boat and Russ said “This was all an elaborate ruse. I knew if I asked you to go swimming, you’d say no”. You’ve gotta love a sense of humor that is stronger than the current.

What we learned is that we work well together while wet and that we are actually able to right a pretty much sunken canoe and get back in it under less than ideal conditions. It took two attempts. During the first attempt I didn’t raise my end high enough and it didn’t quite empty. Russ’ Chapstick came out of his pocket. We both watched it float across the space between us and then away. Neither of us said a word. Neither of us was willing to let go of flotation, paddle or canoe to reach for it. It was a strangely quiet little pause as we both watched it pass.

I got to a higher rock. We righted and emptied the canoe. He held it steady while I stepped up still higher on the highest rock my feet could find, into the center of the canoe and then moved up to my seat. I knew that the canoe would begin to move downstream as soon as Russ tried to enter the boat. I looked straight forward and tried to be the best counter balance I could, but there was no need. I couldn’t believe it worked. I had prepared myself to take another dive. Not only was I surprised by the fact that we were under way and dryish, I was also surprised by the next thing I heard. Russ said “Ok, now this will really be a team building exercise because my glasses are at the bottom of the river. You need to be my eyes.” I hadn’t even noticed. We were also down to one paddle now.

I began to look for calm water and to direct him toward it. We used the standard clock type communication…”It’s at 10:00″ and so on. To make sure there were no hearing problems I began to confirm information with my arms like a cheerleader with big arm movements, left or right when he needed to go that way, then clapped together above my head for straight ahead. We looked for the paddle as we floated the remainder of the trip and never found it. Russ paddled alone for the duration. In a small tributary on the west there was a man with his dog. The man would throw float toys into the water and the dog was playing the happiest game of fetch that I think I’ve ever seen.

We got out at the boat ramp and both felt a little rush of gratitude for landing without further excitement. The trip was a good bit more expensive than planned with the loss of the glasses and the paddle, but all things considered we really weren’t too much the worse for the wear and we’re already talking about our next trip.

This Schoolhouse Rocks!

This morning, July 2, the East Cobb Neighbor, a free local paper was delivered to my home. Back on page 6A there was an article Cobb jobless rate highest since ’76. Being among the 9% of Cobb County residents currently seeking employment keeps me from sleeping as well as I might these days, but experience also teaches me to be optimistic.

When I was in grade school I loved Schoolhouse Rock’s I’m Just a Bill up on Capitol Hill. It had personal meaning for me because my father made it come alive. He was the Chairman of the County Commission in rural, south Alabama, so government seemed reachable from an early age. Being a part of forming government came into my consciousness when a guest came over one evening. I was just young enough to be amused by the fact that his name was Rhodes Johnston and he was also a Rhodes Scholar; and I was just old enough to be impressed, both by the Rhodes Scholar status (mother explained that it was quite an accomplishment) and by his association with National Geographic. Mr. Johnston and my father were writing a bill for the state legislature. I think it had to do with one of the local rivers. I later learned that the bill passed. Of course it did, my daddy wrote it! Like most children I saw the world of the possible as being at least as large as my parent’s accomplishments and the lesson stuck.

Years later I joked with a political science professor about sitting down on the living room floor to write a bill (yes, they sat on the floor to write it). Her eyes widened and she said that it wasn’t that easy. I never explained why I made the comment, but I did eventually ask her for a recommendation to a study abroad program in Central America. I didn’t expect it to lead anywhere, but I asked the questions anyway. I asked my professors “Would you like to write a recommendation?”. I asked grandma “Would you like to keep the kids for the summer?”. I asked all my questions and filled out the application. Before long that fat envelope that means “yes” was delivered to my mailbox, my children were visiting Grandma for the summer and I experienced the tropical cloud forest. It was not legislation, but it was a dream. I was awed by the colors, textures and sounds that were the cloud forest. I came to believe that if something so beautiful could exist, there must be something right in the world and I was able to experience it because I kept moving toward something I thought was an impossible, or at least unlikely goal. The kids came down for a visit after the program and I was able to share it all with them. Like Woody Allen said “Eighty percent of success is showing up.”

This was not the first time I met with unexpected yes. The first time may have been when I was twenty. My brother-in law died in the service of his country and I was moved to write an op-ed piece. His brother, now my ex-husband, gave me the “Aren’t you adorable?” look when I showed him my work. The L. A. Times was more respectful. They printed it. Years later, I began to design clothing. I called my favorite magazine and asked if they would like to publish my work. They did. My favorite designer saw that work and used my design on her wedding dress. These are not world changing events, but they are life changing events. When your work, what ever it is, is appreciated by the people you admire it feeds the spirit. It gives you the audacity to keep seeing opportunity and to follow it even when you are certain that failure is likely.

When my supervisor recently called me into a private conference room, I knew the “no easy way to say…negative company growth…” was coming. People asked me what I would do next and I said two things. I gave the light-hearted “I’m going to Disney World” because the trip was already planned and it just happened to be true. Then, on a more serious note, I said that I would walk through the first door that opened. On second thought, I’m idealistic enough to amend that. I’ll walk through the best door that opens! I don’t know what lies ahead, but I do know that it has the potential to be more than what I left behind. I haven’t found the right questions to ask this go ’round, but I have learned that when I do, I will ask them because when the answer is yes, the dream is alive.

Diary of a New Bicycle Commuter in Atlanta

By Karen

I’ve been trying to find a way to come to terms with my daily grid. It’s not such a bad life, but at the same time there are things that need to fit into the course of a day so that there are reasonable levels of enjoyment, health, and free time. I was spending a lot of time in my car driving the 22 congested miles to work. If I could take a bus or the metro I could at least read along the way. However, I live in East Cobb, an area where there are poor commuting options. This is by design. There are also fewer people who demand those options, but I was among those who would prefer to let someone else drive rather than stressing through the crazy drivers and arriving home exhausted and uninterested in heading for the gym.

I ran through all of the public transportation schedules with a friend, just to make sure that I hadn’t missed something. The amount of time it would take meant that there really were no realistic options available. I mused that I could ride my bike to the MARTA station in Fulton County faster than I could get to it by car or bus and the idea was hatched. That is exactly what I decided to do. Beside the many other benefits. if I could incorporate my exercise into my daily commute, I could be sure that I would get it and that would then would free up time for other things. Perfect!

That was about a year ago while gas was climbing to the $4 mark. I was checking out routes and building stamina. I ruled out riding to the the bus station in Marietta because it was about the same distance as MARTA with the same number of scary intersections and passages, but the route had no stretches of pleasant view and few bike friendly areas. Then, once I got there, I would still be on a bus subject to traffic jams and route interchanges, rather than traveling a bit faster on MARTA direct. I was definitely headed to Fulton County. This meant that crossing the Chattahoochee River and that was a big challenge. Both places where this is possible are traffic bottle necks and quite intimidating. That wasn’t all I had to overcome. The commute and the 8 hours sitting at a desk had added extra pounds over recent months and I wanted to build up a better level of fitness before I embarked on the adventure.

Planning was going along nicely. A locker room and showers were available at work. I bought a second set of toiletries for the locker. The fit was tight, but I was able to put a weeks worth of clothes in the locker and drive only once per week to resupply. There were bike racks in the parking garage. It was a pretty friendly environment for what I wanted to do. I also hoped that if I eventually built up to riding the entire commute on my bike rather than taking MARTA half the distance that
I would get into good shape for the the fund raiser bike ride that I wanted to do at sometime in the future.

First Attempt
I’m in an in between category in several ways. Aware that some people thought I was crazy for wanting to ride my bike in Metro Atlanta, and also quite aware that for some people it was much, much less of a “big deal”. I’m not old, but I’m not still so young either, ugh middle age, and that combined with the desk job and long commute caught up with me. Shortly before I was going to make that first bike trip I stepped out of bed in the morning and nearly fell over in pain. I went to an orthopedic surgeon. He told me I had a pinched nerve and that I had to stay off of it. I’m sure that I must have looked very disappointed. He said “It’s not cancer. This is small.” No, it wasn’t cancer, and I am grateful for that and many other outstanding blessings that I enjoy. It was, however, the crushing of a coping mechanism that I had worked out for myself. There is really no way that I could have explained to him that this was, in many ways, about survival to me. It was about finding a way to make it through the throngs of people mechanically grinding through one daily commute after another. My interstate commute reminded me of a Disney cartoon from way back, a short that starred Goofy. Alien life forms observing from afar thought that cars were in control on earth and that people were the infecting parasites. The Dr. was in a hurry and wanted to go play golf. I didn’t explain the distress on my face, only listened to his assumptions and advice. I was a little indignant that he told me my shoes weren’t sensible enough. I thought I was the queen of ugly sensible shoes, but I listened to the doctor quietly.

The whole shoe adventure was a series of indignities that would have been laughable if they hadn’t actually happened. I looked for shoes that were better for my feet. My Keen sandals were the only shoes I had that the doctor had given approval, but finding something that matched the Keens in fit, something that had a big toe box, yet would stay on my heel while also being appropriately dressed for work was a real challenge. In addition to the pay check I spent on medical costs, I spent a pay check trying to find acceptable shoes over the short term, and more as things went on. Spending a lot on shoes is supposed to be for fashionistas right? Au contraire, many shoes seemed to feel good in the store and began to hurt or slip and rub blisters after half an hour of wear. Once a month we have casual day at work and I wore the sandals then. There was no pain on those days. I guess the doctor was right about my shoes, but I was reprimanded for not meeting an unspoken casual day dress code. In an old traditional company I was experiencing a gap in policy and expectations. For the doctor, my shoes were not practical enough, but for my workplace… Damned if you do… How could one person’s feet be such a bother? I did additional research and bought toe socks to separate my toes. I behaved. I waited, eventually the pain and the twinge that preceded the pain had mostly disappeared.

Second Attempt
I found a commuter van while healing, but I had to choose whether to use the van exclusively for an entire month at a time. May was the month this year. The first was on a Friday. I started in May for the weather. I decided to dispense with the build up of stamina on the bicycle this time, partly because of the commuter policy, and partly so that I would have a greater chance of getting at least a few bicycle commutes accomplished before the foot pain returned.

The morning commute went smoothly. I intended to get out at 5 AM and it was more like 5:45. I had a headlight and a flashing rear light and I wore a reflective safety vest. Part of the ride went through neighborhoods, part through Chattahoochee River National Park. The crossing of the river was not as intimidating as it might have been at this early hour. I was not happy with the location where I had to cross over Hwy 400 and the ride took longer than I expected, but all in all it was OK and I made it in to work just fine. Once I got down town, the streets actually seemed safer than in suburbs and there were other cyclists on the road. I felt great all day and had a lot of energy.

The ride home was less optimal. I chose to test a different overpass crossing Hwy 400 and it put me on Roswell Road, a very busy 4-lane artery, much sooner than before. Several vehicles came terrifyingly close to me. It was the large industrial vehicles that really did it, not the average car or truck. Riding in the area is doubly difficult because bike lanes simply disappear without warning. As a cyclist I feel like the road just disappears out from underneath my wheels when this happens. For the motorists…well, they don’t have cause to even notice until they come upon me, and then there isn’t really much adjustment time. In rush hour traffic, the vehicle in front will often block view of a bicycle. I walked my bike much of the way home to get off the road. While walking I thought a diary telling how the good and the bad had all worked out for me over time. I thought that how I adjusted to things along way might be interesting or helpful to someone like myself who was considering something similar. I began to think of things I might share. It was getting dark. It was becoming Friday night, party night, and I was exhausted. I didn’t want to unpack my headlights and flashers to put them back on the bike. I brought home more than I expected on that first day and I wasn’t sure I still had the strength to zip the bike bag back up if I opened it. I was pretty close to home, but I called a friend and told him that I would wait in a local fast food restaurant. He came, we had supper together and we packed the bike.

It rained for all of the following week. I was mentally running through potential routes that might be safer. I was planning to drive through a neighborhood that had the potential to keep me off of Roswell Road until shortly before I needed to cross the river. I never got that far though. I received notice in the middle of the week that the negative growth at my company had finally caught up to me. Short cycling diary! I’m glad made the ride though, if only for a day. In some respects it seems like it was the bike ride into unemployment. There was a lot of preparation for a single commute, but I’m glad I did it.

The fund raiser I want to participate in, organize and run actually, is for Patch Adams and can be seen at this E2EFundraiser. While the ride across England seems a dream of the past, I would still like to be able to begin at Marietta Square near a clown shop and ride my bike to Patch’s campus in West Virginia. It should be something that could be accomplished on a two week vacation. We will see what the future holds. For now I’m back at the base of Maslow’s Hierarchy.

Update: Russ and I have been spending a lot of time out on the Silver Comet. On the day we made 50 miles, we realized it almost as an afterthought. Riding to Anniston, AL for the weekend is our current goal. I had thought we’d make it this fall, but the cold weather is right around the corner and I think it will be spring. Appreciating the irony, sometimes you can attend to the top of Maslow’s Hierarchy while waiting for the bottom to resolve itself.