Postcard from the Middle

We’ve got a few days of remote work under our belts now, and surprisingly—it’s been fun. The rhythm of our days hasn’t changed much, but we have. I’m up earlier than usual, sipping coffee and watching the lake stretch awake beneath the sunrise.

My monitor dock disappeared overnight (a dramatic exit), but IT took mercy and shipped a new one. My boss, unknowingly in sync with the universe, gave me a light workload. Grace, in unexpected places.

I’ve become a nomad within our tiny space, chasing light and quiet. Outside when the breeze is playful, inside when it stills. To the bedroom when Rob’s on a call, to the couch when my body asks for a stretch. It feels like a vacation, even though this is real life now. And I like it.

The team arrives for our early morning meeting.

The pups have already etched their own rhythm into this new life: daily swims, wild frisbee chases, and then the glorious collapse—wet, happy, and utterly spent. Their joy is contagious, a reminder that even in transition, there’s room for play.

Tomorrow, we start the next chapter of the dream: property visits. First up—a 10-acre spread with an Airbnb already in place. Then Saturday morning, a house built in 1895. “Only” five acres, but I’ve dreamed of a Century home for, well, at least a century. My heart already knows how the floors might creak.

After that, we hit the road again—Arkansas-bound to visit one of the kids in college. Cooler air, changing trees, a different kind of beauty. Here, the foliage is just beginning to blush. It’s a quiet surprise, like the land is whispering, “I’m ready too.”

Then it’s back to Texas for a week of pure fun with friends near Dallas. No scouting, just laughter and reconnection. That pause will give us time to narrow our list and ready ourselves for serious hunting before heading home to Austin for Thanksgiving—with as many of the kids as we can gather around the table.

It’s funny—we’ve only been gone a week, but the miles make it feel like ages. Maybe that’s the magic of movement: it stretches time, deepens presence, and reminds us how much life can shift in just a few days.

Next up: The Dream Gets Real

Tomorrow, we trade lakeside musings for land beneath our boots. What will we discover when we begin walking the properties we've only imagined? Will the Airbnb whisper possibility? Will the 1895 farmhouse creak with stories waiting to be retold? We’re stepping into the tangible now—where dreams meet dirt, and vision meets vintage wallpaper.

Stay tuned. The next post will be about what happens when the dream starts showing up in real estate listings and gravel driveways.