Some girlfriends and I did a trip to Atlanta this summer. As I lay nauseous with motion sickness in the third row seat of the Expedition on the highway to Atlanta, I brought up my idea. Commune didn’t exactly get a standing ovation. You know, the whole hippies, free love, and smoking weed thing. So I explained. A place that’s open only to us, our group of friends. No government rules. Businesses owned by us. We would be in charge. They got interested. So we discussed. Here’s how our conversation went:
- Priority 1 is a flushing toilet. That’s closely followed by good cable tv and wifi so we can go on Amazon and order the things we want. See, I told you off-the-grid wasn’t quite right.
- New people to be invited to live with us only with group consent.
- Husbands are optional, and children and grandchildren may have short-term visits only. Children will be in college, in their own homes, and/or raising their own children.
- We could grow our own food so we’re not eating all the genetically altered, sprayed produce that’s in the grocery stores. But farming is hot. And it’s a lot of physical labor. Okay, we could hire good-looking farmhands to work the fields. Hmmm……
- MK will cook. She likes to feed the group. I could wash dishes. Everybody does their own laundry.
- There is a need for privacy. None of us can stand all the others for too long a period of time. We could each have a tiny house, arranged to surround a larger gathering building. In our tiny houses, we could make our own morning coffee, sleep, watch tv, read, and generally get away from each other as often as needed. In the big building, we could leave our scrapbooking and other crafts set up all the time, ready to be worked on. It’s much more fun to have company while working on a project. That building would also have a large kitchen and eating area as well as a place to gather to watch tv or movies.
- Can you picture it?
- Maybe we could call our place a compound. You know, like in Sons of Anarchy. A big fenced off compound, guarded by big, of course good-looking, motorcycle guys. Hmmm….. But the government tends to want to raid places like that.
- We’d have to make money somehow. Maybe we’d have enough produce to sell at a farm stand. EA said she wants the Farm Kings to come and help. We could market and sell some of our craft projects and scrapbook ideas. LL has already done some of that, and maybe I could, too. TB has good experience with selling. How about an antique shop? I’d like that. So would DC and CG. Again, TB is an awesome saleswoman. Moving furniture around is hard, heavy work. We could add young, good-looking moving guys. Hmmm…..
- How about calling it an estate? That’s sounds nicer than commune or compound. It also sound less like illegal activity is involved, so the government wouldn’t be interested in keeping an eye on us. Deliveries could come to our big wrought iron gate. And there are estates out there to be bought. That’s an idea. And we’ll call it the Belle Estate. Let’s look in Georgia, or maybe in Texas.
- But then we decided we better cool off talking about it. The government might be listening in through TB’s iPhone.
So right now that’s my plan. On bad days, when more requirements come down from the state, when another parent arrives to demand their child not receive consequences, when all of the media’s attention is focused on the color of a coffee cup, when the flag or prayer is removed from yet another institution, when it feels like I have no control over what happens around me anymore, that’s when I think about the estate. The Belle Estate. A place where I can get away from it all the brokenness.
How about you? Any suggestions for the Belle Estate? What’s your dream get-away-from-it-all?