Muddy Business

Michael and I have come to love social media, taking photos and sharing silly stories about ourselves and our lives. The little cabin we live in, and its surroundings, must be one of the most well-photographed little cabins in the world. Neither are we in any way strangers to take snapshots of each other – photos that should not be taken too seriously – and flaunt them all over the place. There are expressions for people like us, but I don’t think they are suitable for print.

It is amazing to me that I, once upon a time, was so camera-shy I often – literally – ran out of a room if someone fished up the devious catching-you-at-your-worst-moment device out of a bag. Additionally, it is not so many years ago I was highly suspicious of anything social media, a terrible photographer, and totally sucked when it came to general technology. (I used to be one of those people who thought my computer would blow up if I pushed the wrong button.)

Now, looking at our self-serving, look-at-me-and-my-life way of moving in the world, I know that it is a modern-world phenomenon to show off the happy-dippy parts of our lives in shining colors and successful light. And the cabin we call “The Tree House” has some great photograph light. But, as for all people, there is another side to the sweet-social-media-story. To live in a small cabin, that is also your office, and publish a magazine, has other sides than sweet, shining and happy-dippy. It has also been messy. Messy and muddy. Sometimes very muddy. Let me share a real-life story.

We have one spot in the cabin that has a clear phone connection. it is on the upper part of the stairs, covering an area of approximately five square feet where we use the banister as our office space. One morning, after a period of heavy rain, our delivery truck came driving in on the rain-soaked road. Now, the driver was new, young and fiery. Before Michael and I had the chance to run out and shout to him NOT to back up on the field – that becomes extremely soggy during rains since we are in a valley – he quickly turned around and backed up in the soaked field. Of course, he got stuck. And being somewhat young and feisty, it took him only about ten minutes to dig the wheels of the truck so deep down in the grass that there was no way of getting out, creating deep muddy tracks in the grass. There was no choice for him but to call for a tow truck.

At the same time the tow truck arrived, neighbors and our neighbor’s friend had gotten involved and there was honking horns, and six guys shouting to each other just down from the stairs. This would not have been a problem at all, had it not been at this exact moment that I had scheduled an interview with someone I admired very much, who happened to be in New Mexico. He was very gracious about the whole thing, and even claimed that there where snowstorms in New Mexico that may disturb the signal. I caught enough of the interview to transcribe it to an article.

The story might have ended there, as a mild inconvenience in the world of publishing from your home, had it not been for the fact that Michael and I decided to go down to the fireplace by the creek to celebrate our latest edition. There was, of course, a fire involved, probably a couple of glasses of wine too much, and very animated discussion. For whatever reason, by the time we were walking back to the cabin it was dark, and I had totally forgot about the incident with the delivery truck. So … I fall, face down, into the water and mud-filled tracks left by the truck. After catching my breath, Michael and I broke down in laughter that lasted all the way up to the cabin, through a very muddy shower and even going to bed. Now this was one day. If I had space, I could tell you the stories about:

When I couldn’t create the upcoming edition while on the road because my lap-top refused to even open to the desktop, and I sat chewing on my hands on the airplane because I left Michael all alone running everything else, and my only real mission for the month was to put the edition together.

When I couldn’t get into my “office’ – aka the cabin - because there was a big snake that had decided to settle in on our doorstep. Michael was gone, and I was too chicken-shit to try to make the snake go away (now that’s a better excuse not to work than “the dog ate my homework”), so I had to wait in the driveway until Michael came home to get back to work.

The time Michael fell down the slippery stairs during hurricane season and cracked three ribs with me gone and him responsible to handle everything (yup, same time as my computer broke down on the road).

I could continue. But I will spare you. Just saying this: to make things look all fun, easy and colorful on social media is easy. Life, however, is much more messy than that. And muddy. I did mention muddy, did I not?

This editorial was first published in the September edition of The Echo World