"My father would take me to the playground and put me on mood swings." - Jay London

A guy at the gym asked me if I was a tennis player.
Must be my lithe form and cat-like movements.
Or just that I'm skinny.

Rag top, cabriolet, drop top, all terms that describe what we normally call a convertible.
At the auctions they say that if the top goes down the price goes up.
Yesterday I saw a convertible Nissan Murano. The price went up and so did the ugly factor. Goodness! Is anybody surprised they've stopped production?

I got the upgraded master cylinder installed today. It took some ingenuity and some help from the old Chevy truck forum, but it's now ready for lines, which I'll fabricate from blanks I'll buy at the auto store. That will probably wait until I get back from my ROAD TRIP.

On the way home from the gym I stopped by the library and picked up a John Grisham book on CD to keep me interested as I drive through the desert and up the central CA valley. It's an 18 hour book, so with radio through metro areas it should fill the bill. I've got a total of about 42 hours of driving up and back.

Back to the Thoreau thoughts from last week....

How much stuff are you going to have when you die?
Let's say you live to something near the average life expectancy - 80-ish, maybe a little longer - how big will your estate sale be? Most people never think about that; their focus is on how much stuff they have now and the next item they need/want to get.
So let's graph your rate of accumulation over the last 5-10 years in a standard X/Y format and extend that line out to your life expectancy. Depending on your age and income bracket it may look pretty...excessive.

But that's not realistic. If you're raising kids now that estate sale won't include all the things you need to get through this stage of life. You will eventually sell the car seats, study desks, and sports equipment in garage sales, or give it away to friends a step behind you on life's journey. And if you move into a retirement home, assisted living center, or your kids' basement (my preferred option) you'll have to downsize. So the graph of stuff typically looks more like a bell curve.

One thing is certain: five seconds after you're dead you've got nothing. Somebody else has all that stuff, and dealing with it is their issue.

Because the chances of dying increase with age, and because most of us tend to hang on to things far beyond their functional life or any real need for possessing them (including the size of our house), it seems like a wise course to apply some intentionality to the graph. That is, purposefully downsizing as we age, with a line that descends so that if/when the time comes that a move to assisted living requires a reduction, it's a fairly straightforward exercise.

When would that intentional reduction begin? Shortly after the empty nest stage begins seems like an obvious point for a significant drop in the graph line. Besides, it discourages boomerang kids. As the physical limitations of age increase the reason for hanging on to things like recreational equipment decreases. And shifting interests also play a roll. If I'm not still _______, why hang on to the things that I used to do that activity?

Pam and I have been talking about this and working that direction for almost a year. It feels good to disencumber, and the more we reduce (is that an oxymoron?) the more we realize how much extra unnecessary stuff we have. Why do we need a stack of 8-10 empty flowerpots? Or six spatulas? A toaster oven that gets used every few months and doesn't do anything that couldn't be done in one of the other appliances? Four sets of towels?

We're finding less is more, or at least easier. The Madison Avenue push to get specific things for specific tasks has several definite downsides, and so far we haven't found anything we can't do just as well after reducing to a few basic tools and implements. Plus, it just feels good to live simply. At least for us.