Tim said it. We're in the impenetrable mountains. Again. I felt pressure to make an offer on the one place we saw yesterday. It was a deal if you looked and the price tag divided by the number of acres. And the house was very solid and even had a very high end kitchen. But it was dark and closed in and not well designed and, for the number of square feet, felt cramped when it shouldn't. The "greenhouse" it had built into it wasn't thoughtfully designed and the large tomato plants in it only had green tomatoes on them. In late August. In a greenhouse. So it would mean rebuilding major parts of the house. I can't, I won't, ask Tim to do that. The place had an offer on it that had not been yet accepted so we had to decide last night or early this morning. And the place had no water rights. And if you'd been driving around in Empedicles these last two weeks studying ranching and property and water you would know what that means. It basically means that even if you have water running across your property you don't have the right to do anything with it except let it run, when it runs, how it runs. You can't dig a hole and make a pond without going through a lot of paperwork and requesting and likely you may get turned down. Because, water. Water is life here in the west and they know it. So no one owns the water here. They own rights to use the water for certain things. Frustratingly sane. Anyway, no water rights. No year round flowing water. Big, ugly, ill-designed house. With an offer on it. And we could probably get it if we just made a full-price offer. And that feels like going for mere survival and that is not what this is about. Survival in the physical realms is not enough at this point in my life. And maybe that is part of the spiritual lesson. Survival? That's guaranteed. Not in the physical but in the spiritual. So the question is: What do you REALLY want and do you have the guts to ask for that and not take less than what you really want. And I want it all: water rights and beauty and the safety of growing and raising animals, or at least providing a place for someone to raise animals. A place for grandchildren to visit as the years go by. Or for the family to retreat to in the event of full scale societal meltdown which is likely what it would take for the family to gather. And I'm not hoping for that but something says it's fine to prepare for that as one of many eventualities, here, in the impenetrable mountains.