"Watch us turn this pile of junk into a beautiful house," I wrote across the bottom of a page of pictures I sent to my family.
The marriage had gone pretty well, I mused, but the divorce was going even smoother. I climbed up into the window to call my mom in California. The cell signal was strongest there, but so was the heat. Talking on the phone always made me sweat.
My mother is a believer in positive thinking. She knew I was determined to make this leap. It wasn't in her mental vocabulary to wonder if I'd lost my mind. It was my friend Kathy who was worried that I'd lost my mind. I had taken up with a younger man, moved to a remote region, and now I was spending every last cent on a slice of desert land, a pile of old tires and some cockamamie plan to build a house out of dirt.
Maybe she had a point.
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