Ok, I skipped a lot of the gory details that might have made an
amusing blog when it was happening, but I was too busy to sit down
and type. Juggling work with tearing down and moving one’s workspace
and with renovating and setting up a new space was/is a precarious
process. I kept the old shop minimally functional close to the end
and only completely shut down for a week or so while the presses and
such were moved, and until we got the new, packed-full, house sorted
out. I just don’t remember previous moves being anywhere near this
protracted and stressful, which I’m sure has much to do with the
volume of things collected in 20 years of work expansion and married
I said “20 years of warehouse living” but it wasn’t quite so stark.
Our old place was 25’ by 50’ with 14’ high cielings, and a partially
converted attic living area. The shop had heat, a.c. and a bathroom,
so it wasn’t like when I was single and crazy at other places. There
was 20 by 25 workshop and 30 by 25 living space, all packed to the
gills and not exactly modern. Now we have 2,000 s.f. living and 850
shop and it seems like a palace.
I was afraid of moving but like I already said, once the decision
morphed into action, I was gone. I had spent much of 2007 working on
the old shop, building an upstairs workstation for sawing dies and
cutting their hinges on the plasma cutter, and had collected
materials for more such projects. I had thought that it would be more
emotionally difficult to tear all that down so soon, but I found
myself in a genuinely obsessive frame of mind because I could grasp
the scope of the whole move, and my only hope was to start the
tedious task of packing nonessential things up early (July, and we
were done this February) - even before we had found the right place-
and not let myself slow down until… maybe 2010, heh heh.
I was in good physical shape and strength by the end, but an
overzealous afternoon of rock arranging put my back over the limit.
Combined with a new mattress, I actually got to where I could barely
walk for several weeks. Then we both got sick, then this thing on my
finger kept growing, even after it was removed. But I’m on the other
side of it now, and the perspective is one of relief, gratitude, joy,
and a dash of awe and appreciation that it did in fact happen, and
we are here now.
Now I’m still juggling work and fixit projects. The mosquitos are
like soup down here on the Rio Grande, and I’m working on a
screened-in area built around/on top of the chain link fence area
out back. The chihuahuas and cats had a high-walled oasis out back
in the city, so we want to give them another outside area, but free
from bugs as much as possible (for us too). I’m the only person down
here who walks their dogs, and I know many of them must think (oh,
if they only knew, heh heh) that I’m just a little strange. What an
odd sight for the average horse owner, driving along their familiar
country road, when around the bend appears a somewhat burly-looking
former(obviously) city slicker, walking two atrociously cute, fluffy
chihuahuas, making them “sit”, “stay” etc. I tell you, some of these
cowboys are not ready for me, lol.
I have slowed down some, and dug out the camera the other day, and so
I’ll be posting some pictures soon to a linkable site. It really is a
beautiful spot, we couldn’t have asked for a better arrangement, and
it was SO worth all the chaos, stress, and trauma.
Dar (today we dig a trench to replace the wiring from the house to the
well pump, yeehawwww )