Category: Uncategorized

Happy, Living Simply In Maine Not Wasting Your Life Or Distracted.

Like the expression you are what you eat, in Maine it is also all about you are where you hang your hat.

Happier is easier. If your surroundings are unspoiled, natural, uncrowded. Safe, family and small community oriented. Drop dead gorgeous like sparsely populated Maine. All four seasons.

That long feature list of what everyone wants but does not get to enjoy in tight for open space city settings.

Has to help pour the solid foundation so you can’t avoid having more over the top good days. Increasing the odds, extending a helping hand to give you a sporting chance of being happy easier in Maine. Singing inside. Like a hot air balloon that could go to outer space. Being in a room without a roof. That happiness is a truth. Clap along if you feel like that’s what you want to do.

What makes you happy?

Or have you learned yet it is not something you chase? That is not way way out there someplace up ahead along the road of life. It resides deep down inside all of us, near your heart, next to your soul. Happy is a process, a habit, a routine, reflex. Ten ways to be happier if there is some slack, something lacking in that inside place.

Maybe happy is love that is on sale at the local five and dime at closing time. Small Maine town, a strong connection because few people means huddling together, needing each other, knowing everyone in the place. That the village raises the kids.

Music is life, big part of Maine. Especially the home grown kind. When our youth are holding, playing the instruments. Belting out the music with a smile, full throttle passion. That makes you happy, sing right along inside. You groove in your seat, raising your toe up and down. Want to dance, sing along. Put your hands together.

So a song in your heart, humming or singing, maybe feeling the toe tapping inside as you experience Maine.

Add to it that the song is wildlife, a Maine lake, river, ocean water sound. Crickets, loons singing duets. A grandchild laughing or just the listen. Hear that? Nothing but the sound of silence. When a calm day, no traffic and the wind, breeze calls in sick. Takes a personal day. From the howling around the old farm house eaves. Back porch wind chime or banging the unlatched barn or machine shed doors. Not whispering sweet nothings through the pine needle vibration.

So start whistling, you are home where I am with you… Maine. It’s a happy love affair.

Maybe if you are a walker, stuck in a city, it’s a pressure cooker. Keeping you from being happy in your surroundings. If you march to a beat of a different drummer, start the hitting the pavement. Thumping the skins. Heading, trotting, heck it’s over due for a hand gallop. Time to neck rein, high tail it to Maine. Leave those strangling regulations. Put those too many people everywhere you look in your rear view mirror.

Happy begins, plays, ends for me in Maine. Where when I am high on hill with snow skis. Hiking a mountain to the top where I feel pretty small, plenty humble, very grateful. Happy. Like on a Maine lake, during sunset, after a great meal the family all helped create. And now sitting around a camp fire thinking this was another great day in Maine.

Same as visiting a Maine lighthouse when the tourists are back home out of state.

It’s just you on a nippy, crisp air winter day at a Maine lighthouse. And the take away is clarity, getting it, knowing just a taste of the space, solitude the lighthouse keeper enjoyed every day, year round. Hear yourself think, clearing your head and heart. Organizing your thoughts. On the journey, direction to be the happiest you can be in a place. Can’t bring you down because the boost from the love is too high. Like only all natural, unfiltered Maine can do to you. Once she grabs your heart. You don’t ever want her to let go. And are only fooling yourself thinking you actually could.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

March 13, 2014
The Mustang Was Sporty, But Buying It Had A Tragic Ending In Maine.

The car in Maine, not the horse breed of the same name.

The Maine sporty car parked on the lot on US Rt 1 north of Houlton Maine caught the eye of a young lad. Clean cut, well mannered and telling the used car lot salesman Gerry, I’ll take it. How do you plan to do that? The answer, paying cash. Writing a check. Which he did and got the keys, after signing all important paperwork. Drove away.
Shiretown Houlton Maine.

The deposit of the check to buy the Maine car opened up the can of worms.

As the sad tale unwinds. Spins and twists. When the car lot owner got back to town later that day from a buying trip down country, the first hiccup happened. Seems a visit to the local Maine bank to cash the check shows a problem. Little irregularity.

Last check in the book all junior had. The one and only. Used to “buy” the blue Mustang. Written on an account. But the signature is not the owner of the account. The grandson helped himself to just one of Grampy’s checks. The payment needed to kinda, sorta buy the car with the horse emblem on the body sides of blue.

The owner of the used car lots does not call the Maine State Police or Sheriff’s Department or local HPD men in true blue or wearing black. All headquartered in the border town loaded with law enforcement. Because he figures time is a wastin’. If he does not track down the car soon, there won’t be a car to hunt. Or when found it will be far away costly geographical out of state to pull back in, haul home. Or nothing of value is what he will end up finding. Maybe both happens if he does not get on his horse to hunt down the Mustang.

Far away and destroyed is worry. Or missing for good, never found might be best if insurance covers the loss. His big hit to eat as a chalk it up to experience mistake. A very expensive, major kick in the butt. That outshines the effort the report pen pushers would throw into the “find my car now” the car lot owner figures.

In small Maine towns, a couple phone calls and you know everything you need to make a plan.

Seems the grandson is headed to Biddeford Maine. The Maine used car lot owner scribbles down an address. Calls a buddy with a tow truck ramp to ask for a favor. He knows the guy from working in the Portland, Southern Maine area where he lived a few years back. In an earlier life with the wife, kiddos.

Sure enough, like in the repo cable television series, the ramp truck spies the car with the 14 day paper plate. When trolling in circles. Round the address given over the cell phone. Under the cover of darkness. Calls North, relays the “found it” news. What now? The order given to haul it in. Bag it and tag it. Cable the hook up to the frame. Tilt, hoist, reel it in like a prize fish. High tail it with the Mustang piggy back parked on the truck body up I-95. Giddy up go to Aroostook County. Drive it like you stole it to get clear of the junior car thief.

The grandson comes out during the loading and asks “what’s up?”

Lack of payment muttered. Means this little four wheel pony is headed north. Back to the used car lot corral display area cowboy. The grandson ten shades of red faced, steam out the ears mad. The car filled to the brim with gas, packed for an early heading out the next day. At the crack of dawn road trip planned. That the ramp truck just canceled. Made “null and void” stamped sideways appear across the best laid crooked plans.

Car comes back to its large missing tooth, parallel angled spot on the lot on busy US Rt 1. To resume the puppy dog at the pound sad look. Searching for an owner with the cash or financing to get the set of keys legally. The Mustang Ford car home again. All within the same day the hub bub, drama unfolds.

End of story? Not really.

Just warming up. The grandson comes home to Aroostook County, hitchhiking straight up Interstate 95. Cause no ride of his own that disappeared, evaporated. Goes to Gramp’s on Rt 212 in the Smyrna / Merrill Maine area. A fight, argument ensues. A knife is produced, waved, used to make a point and the sad long and short of it is, Grampy ends up dead.

The grandson with blood on his hands has another stop in mind and heads east to the Shiretown, Houlton Maine with the knife.

Looking for the used car lot owner who messed up, foiled his plans to get out of Vacationland in the fueled up Mustang. That he only got to slide behind the wheel long enough for a quick ride south to Biddeford, Maine. Until the yank back surprise. Now you see it, now you don’t presto chang-o car retrieval.

The police cornered the angry grandson with the cutting tool behind a series of potato houses on the Ludlow Road near Wally World. And just a half mile up the road, where the rightful owner of the Mustang lived, the visit with the knife never happened. About two decades ago and something to rehash during a slow news day. Or eating lunch at a local Maine diner counter stool. Shooting the breeze during lunch hour hook on the burlap feed bag. Listening to the story. About the crime, doing the time from the used car lot owner. About the one day when everything went horrible wrong that started out seemingly innocent, low key.

Maine is the 4th lowest crime state and when it does happen, it is definitely not the normal daily buzz of events.

Not like the day to day in an urban area with gangs, drive by shootings and all kinds of awful crimes being committed round the clock. Other stories from Maine car dealerships. They get stolen, abused, used, just not quite the way you think.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
a href=”mailto:info@mooersrealty.com”>info@mooersrealty.com

March 11, 2014
Dating Sites, 2nd Most Popular Way Of Meeting, Becoming A Couple.

The brutally honest heart to heart talk starts with the me, myself and I before reaching out, playing footsies with another single person.

What is the definition of dating again? Got it.

Expectations, meeting needs, balance. What you hope to accomplish and pretty much a matched check off list the person sitting across the table is holding. The date at your side in the corner booth with the flickering candle low light.
Floating Your Boat, Bopping Along Together In Maine.
Soft jazzy blues music mix. Tasty fresh Maine seafood to die for dishes arriving right on schedule to sample together.

And you talk, enjoy each other’s company. No matter what you are doing or topic discussed. Learning about the other. Sharing. Observing, collecting. Just being together feels comfortable. And the spell lasts, endures, deepens. Or get me out of here happens. Check please. Back pedaling. Swimming to shore.

Because that is dating. How the cookie crumbles.

To get back out on your own again. Zinging down the open road moving. Not parked. Or going backwards in life, relationships. Radar love turned way up loud on the radio. Driving 10 and 2 with the seat pushed back. Scanning, waiting, learning lots about yourself in the nice to meet you, tell me more process.

As what you are capable of bringing to any relationship, need coming back the other way too formulates. Is taking shape. Rack focused crystal defined in your head. Down in your gut where instinctive decisions are made. Inside your heart that you guard how close people are allowed to get from experience, survival, for healing to happen. As you get ready.
Speak Up, Be Picky, Be Positive In The Date Your Mate Hunt For A Partner.

You need to be somewhat picky, selective. Or you won’t get what is best for you and the other person unless you are right?

The person is not good or bad. The relationship is all about the peas in a pod. It works well, barely at all. Or somewhere in between. You are not going to settle but can you be too picky?

Or is that high limbo pole standard a safe way to keep you off the dating singles playing field altogether? In a fool yourself self inflicted time out justification when someone asks “so how come not dating huh?” Or “Gee, really? Not seeing anyone at all. How come”?

More than a feeling needed as Boston sang. Because the lovey dovey warm and fuzzy has to turn the corner. Continues to lub dub chug chug into a strong, growing friendship. As you log the miles, put in the time together. Grow closer. You like the person, not just love them. Because both partners arrive at the same conclusion at pretty much the same time. This works. Is good. Me too! So do I!

Both are better off with the pairing than each would be wandering around by their lonesome unattached, single. But neither just joined at the hip and clinging together to simply avoid being alone. Wait, don’t be afraid of being alone.

Amy Webb explains the engineering of online dating, a new creative reverse approach.

How to rough sketch, do the math. Study the spread sheet numbers. For your own self designed, dating site framework for love algorithms. How to put your best sexy foot forward in this Ted Talks video on dating sites. You need optimistic language in your online dating site profile, 97 words or less, and to ask questions. To be more approachable. In your search for the glass slipper fit. The right one for you, you for them out of the herd.

The scientific approach, the least expected approach way to bump into someone, the probability to find your life partner with online dating. All gives you pause to think, ponder dating today and the options to reach out but avoid those $1300 plus out to dinner tabs to pick up.

How you fill the empty questions on profile surveys, superficial data in, garbage out happens.

Say what you want, mean what you say, be who you are. The rest will fall into place like Amy’s grandmother above predicted. Thank you to a Texas blog post friend who made this topic suggestion. Good luck, staying away from those courtship catfish relationships.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

March 9, 2014
The Name On The Back Of Your Maine Boat.

If you own a Maine boat, it might have a name.

You see some pretty clever ones. Floating around lakes, ponds. Heading down Maine rivers. Moored in coastal Maine town harbors. Plying the water along the rock bound coast of Vacationland. When you fly out of Maine to sample some blue green water, island fun to split a winter in half.
What Name Would You Pick For Your Boat?

Had a Maine lake home neighbor with a family boat called “Nickels and Dimes”.

A Four Winns blue and white boat with a 302 V8 Ford inboard motor. Skipper made his living with vending machines. Stocking, refilling the drop slots with munchie products.

Not a Miami Vice Wellcraft Scarab but 38 foot boats on a medium size lake are a little overkill. For high speed profiling, revolutions. Still, the Four Winns a pretty neat boat just the same. Kept spotless, ‘er ship shape so to speak. Just like his Checkmate before that.

Collecting the loose coins in the box. The currency in the changers. Wheeling it all back to Southern Maine banks for the presto, change-o exchange. The delicious cycle that bought the Maine boat. Explaining where the name was, er “coined”. Not a handle painted on the back of the barge, the aft, because of breakdowns. Like you might first think of expensive, one after another breakdowns with the label. Maybe you envisioned empty cans and bottles. Held hostage, taken back one by one for the deposit ransom bounty. Maine is a returnable container state, no billboards either remember?

What would you name your new boat in Maine?

Something clever like “Going Propless” if you float a sail boat?
Moonlight Boat Rides On A Maine Lake Summer Night. Priceless.
“Dances With Waves”, “Fishy Business”, “Lobster Mobster”, “Missed Stress”, “Sea Sea Rider”, “Vitamin Sea”, “Wake Watchers”, “Eat Drink And Re-Marry”, “Chum Crazy”, “Jane Dough”, “Got Debt?”, “Billable Ours”, “Cirrhosis of the River” to suggest a few.

One more reader, blog post follower added one she caught, thought was clever… “Sotally Tober”. Fire water, wild women seem to be common boat name theme tie ins. Okey dokey, fine and dandy. As long as the boat captain is not three sheets to the wind, toasted, dozing at the helm wheel to the rudder. Missing, not grazing any and all icebergs.

If you scrimped, saved, wheeled and worked a deal to buy a boat, what would you plaster across the back and why?

Can you imagine moonlight night rides, under a million twinkling stars? Slowly circling a Maine lake as the sun sets in red, orange, pink fireworks? Lonely loons sing songs. Grills’ sizzle sweet smells as you get hungry.

Suddenly thinking about eating something home made, waiting back at camp with your hands when you tie up, hop out of the boat back at the wharf. But for now enjoy idling by bobbing in wood or fiberglass with family and friends.

Studying the jagged, jutting shoreline of camp fires. Heavy hanging clothes line of wet, drying colorful beach towels, swimsuits. Crowded picnic tables eating burgers, dogs, lobster, clams, corn cobs, watermelon rinds. Summer shanty simple cottage living with tiki lights flickering, strings of Chinese lanterns hanging, glowing. Kids running around chasing frogs. Or lightning bugs collected in jars. To light up tents, travel campers set up outback the cottages.

Or the sound of laughing, splashing, water skiing. Tubing behind the wake waves you make on a Maine lake when the sunshine, blue cloudless sky is high overhead.
You Ready To Get Wet?

Or parking that same pleasure boat out in the middle of the puddle. To use as a swim platform. A fishing station with multiple lines cast early in the AM before most are up? Or with a sail boat, tacking, adjusting those sails for the the maximum speed, tight wind canvas advantage.

Out on the water, where it’s cooler than on shore or in town. Hanging out, working on a tan in your Maine boat.

Not a bad dream to wake up from, to realize. Air brush yourself into a colorful boat. To clear the mental cobwebs. Putting work, your day job way way in the background. Not visible for a few hours, days, weeks in your shift to vacation life rear view mirror. Or when it is welcome to retirement in Maine. Day after day play. Relaxing just the way you like it, planned it.

If you visit Maine, maybe via one of the 100 cruises ships that parked off the Pine State coast, you will notice lots of colorful, catchy lobster, fishing boats. With names that more often than not seem to have a woman’s, daughter’s names on the port, starboard sides. Keep your eyes peeled, camera ready. Watch for Maine boats. Especially high powered lobster rigs that if you ask nicely, you can get the freshest fish, seafood around before it hits the Maine pound. Comes ashore. The only fish product fresher found is still swimming in the Maine sea.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

March 6, 2014
Maine | The Sounds She Makes Should Not Take A Back Seat.

Pretty hard to give up Maine sunrises, sunsets and all that happens in between those ends of each day.

Any season, reason you are lucky enough to be up here in the right hand corner. The cozy feeling of snug as a bug, warm as toast inside.
Maine Hockey Fans Roar “Score!” From The Stands.
Backed up, parked next to a wood stove warming your bones. As your own hand split maple, beech, birch and some cedar kindling crackle, spit, sputter. Do their thing. While winter snow piles up outside. And you deviously, creatively scheme about what you are going to be doing later on. The many options outdoors. To carve up, slice, dice, rearrange that new powder.

The eye candy of Maine is undeniably addictive.

I test positive. Guilty as charged. Both hands raised high in the air. So are you for not being able to quit, avoid her natural charms. To cover your eyes, look away as the beat goes on inside. As Sonny when he and Cher still held hands, appeared on stage together sang. Hands still up, take me to your leader surrender happens. When one by one your senses are taken prisoner in a good way. And you just stop resisting.

But the sights, the pretty landscapes, waterways, quaint small Maine towns are only part of the tractor beam pull. To keep you from staying away for long. The sound of Maine water is not to be taken for granted. Just so’s you know. In the role it plays in calming your insides. Taming your thoughts, capturing your mood. Lifting it skyward.

How do you like, take your Maine water?

Delivered straight up in eye of the needle, weaving? Bobbing to and fro.
Grand Older Maine Homes, Find Them Here. Listen To, Meet The Neat People Inside.
To avoid being splashed, dashed on the rocks kind? Threading down a section of high speed Maine river rapids water modified high output CFM dam sluice? Strapped in, holding on to a paddle in a large rubber boat, two in a canoe or just you in a tiny single kayak? With noisy, rushing, gushing, very verbal water making it hard to talk.

Taking control of your every thought. Until the eddy out for conversation with other survivors. Some dirty rice, grilled, blackened chicken, beef or fish, chunky Maine potato salad. Maine adventures and outdoor fresh air cooking make you hungrier, savor the food all the more right?

Or is the sound of Maine water gently lapping the shores in front of a lake camp more your speed, liking? With Maine loons the background singers. Adding minor chord harmonies, solos. Ear spice, seasoning to your unforgettable experience in Maine.

Or do you like the sound of your water when it whistles loudest? Sitting atop a wood cook stove in a tea kettle signalling time out. Reach for a handful of home made cookies, pour some steaming tea. Plop down into your favorite kitchen or porch rocker. To sip, chat, reflect on how lucky you are to be in Maine. Part of a family, community, the four seasons of Vacationland. It’s all about the senses for the deep down inside where your soul lives take away of Maine.

The Maine sound channel.

Turn it up. Close those peepers. Feel the transport, energize, materialize as no matter where you really are you are heading to Maine.The eyes have it easiest. But never let the sounds of Maine, other senses take a back seat. Give them credit where it is due. For their part. Remember the many sounds of Maine. From thick pea soup Maine small town harbor fog horns, sea gulls flapping, yacking overhead. Or navigation buoy bells clanking the louder the closer you get. As they appear briefly, then disappear into the salty smelling fragrant damp sea mist.

Or fan hoops, hollering, on your feet excitement in the stands. Along the sidelines in a crowded gym or arena, ball field. As your small town Maine sports team wins a close come from behind game to score a state title.
Laughter, Energy Expended On A Maine Lake. As The Sun Sets. Sizzling Food Served Up.
Maybe it’s the sounds of old familiar hymns in a very small country church as your hand is taken, shaken and smiles signal they are glad you are here where you belong. Together under the tall steeple to worship, humbly give thanks, to count our many blessings one by one. To see what you know who has done.

The creak of rusty barn door hinges opening after listening to the crunch of snow crystals under foot.

As you head to a Maine farm barn in the early hours before most are up and at ’em. To throw down bales of stored, compressed square bales. Hay mow feed of timothy, clover, grasses secured by twine making a gentle, muffled thud on the stable floor below.

Armed, to distribute a few flakes to those four legged friends in the standing and box stalls. Who whinny, snort, neigh and nudge you. As each is some kind of glad to see you. And the grain can, watering hose you steer into their manger private cafeteria. Greeting each, rubbing their large powerful necks, scratching behind an ear. As you pay a daily visit to each old friend until spring pasture turn out arrives. Once the mending, post straightening to fencing is done. Scratched off your long, growing to do farm chore list.

Sounds of Maine can be summer evening crickets, croaking frogs not named Bud. Song birds of all colors, sizes, types around a feeder you keep filled to the brim with sunflower seeds.

Kids laughing, pedaling bikes, walking by talking. On the way to the open Maine dairy bar window. To reach for a twisted sweet treat being handed to them. The gentle wind in the pine groves. Or faster moving ones out of the Northeast in gale force fashion. Making that second floor window kazoo sound as it forces its way inside. To remind in case you had forgotten who is boss. Bigger than you or me.

All happening in your life, what you are missing, that’s now showing, playing outside on the Maine weather channel. As the wind picks up speed during a winter snow storm. Or the fast approaching down pour of rain is about to open up in buckets. Thunder crashes, lightning zig zags. Signals what is to come ready or not. Did you roll up the car windows? Put down the ones at home or not thoughts enter your mind a little late.

Sounds of Maine along with the other senses God gave you to enjoy are here to tap into when you make the time. Clear that schedule. Grab your coat, the car or SUV keys. Leave a note for loved ones. When you realize you need to unplug, recharge, get to Maine.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

March 5, 2014
Forget The Gauges, Idiot Lights, Experts | Turn Up The Senses In Maine.

You know how when you really have to stay focused, have a task at hand requiring your full attention?

When other things going on around you are a distraction and trying to pull you away from that goal? What do you do? In Maine, simple living is the approach to everything that happens.
Lots Of Senses, More Than One Egg In The Simple Living In Maine Life Basket.

Some retreat to a small Maine woods camp to ponder the problem. The whispering wind in the pine needle vibrations. Howling, cold swirling around the eaves. Heard inside the warm as toast, wood stove heated simple log cabin helps clear the head.

Just getting, being away from people all hollering what you should do is control, alternate, delete poof. Gone. Replaced with solitude Maine is famous for, has plenty of if you make the time.

Adjusting, tweaking the life dials. Happens in Maine way way easier. Than a crowded urban setting where there is just not any easy direction to run, hide and think.

Maine is a good place to regroup. Step back from a situation. Take the long way home. Spending time on an open porch or tree canopied deck. In front of an open rocked fire pit circle to collect positive ions.

Coming Together, Working Out Solutions In Maine Small Towns.

To gain the 20 20 needed to trot right back in and know the best course of action in what to do now.

It avoids the looking back and second guessing. Because what you did, chose in your life at the time of decision making was the best for all concerned. When all the exhibits, A through Z were eyeballed, punched, poked, studied from all angles.

Others find the solitude of downhill or cross country skiing. Hiking, biking. Being out on an open lake fishing. Kayaking down a challenging section of waterway the key to release.

Frees up, defrags the mental hard drive. For the guidance in your life, living in Maine comes from being outdoors all four seasons. Space, wildlife, scenery. Away from people so you can hear yourself think. Get caught up in the real not fake in our everywhere you look. Drop dead gorgeous natural Maine simple living.

Had a lady in the office looking at Maine homes from Canada this week. Who indicated most of her life “I was never really on my side in arguments”.

No room. Too many strong willed, bossy people telling her you are wrong for how she felt, what she thought. No matter what her position, the topic. It was like walking underwater growing up difficult. Thinking like a driver, not the passenger works best in life. Ever seen households, families where all the relationships in them have to run through just one person? Instead of encouragement to think on your own, dare to be different? To find, define, refine, be just you.

Ate breakfast with a Joel Graham at the Elm Tree Saturday morning. His Dad Jack was short, carried a tall, big blue bottle of Maalox under his arm at all times. Like the green tanks on wheels you see following people connected with one long clear tether cord of piping. He was one of my Dad and Mom’s best trailer truck drivers for Prem Pak. Heck of a roller skater too my Mom said when growing up. Before he added the bright blue bottle to the look. Popping, throwing, flicking Rolaids into the air wrist action. To catch on the tongue habit into his daily living routine.

Jack trained a lot of truck drivers in his family.

Son Joel while working his way through a ham and cheese omelet, home made toast triangles, a couple of midnight black coffees said instead of trusting gauges and idiot lights, you just have to listen. To how the truck was sounding, running what his Dad taught he, his brothers. And with your pair of ears you could pick up on the change in the sound. The pitch, buzz, rattle and hum loudness.
Look For The Sunshine. Unplug, Recharge In Maine.

Which meant there was a reason for something in the machinery not quite sounding right, normal. Catching the problem, picking up the cue before the gauges or idiot lights told you what you already knew.

But too late.

It is awareness. Looking for red flags, not being so caught up on the blur of other people, their demands around you. Using, relying on the five senses God wired into all of us. Joel said ice fishing is his best therapy. To untangle the mental knots, kinks in the hose affecting your life.

It’s start, end with what do you want to do, think is best in the long run in small town Maine living.

Then branches out from there to hopefully help. Please lots of others along the way too. Beyond your family, out in the local Maine communities. Because we are all connected in a special way. Have to be by design. Because when you look over your shoulder for a replacement if tired, overbooked, you figure out like the others shoulder to shoulder around you. You pretty much signed on for life in this, this and that job or position in the small Maine town. The burg, village, hamlet that is depending on each and every one of us. To sparkle, struggle through the low points. But survive no matter what and shine brightly, uniquely.

I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com

March 2, 2014