Category: Uncategorized

The Call In Maine Comes In, Heading Out Into The Night Happens.

LL Bean Knapsack, Used For More Than Trail Mix Gorp, Camping, Hiking Supplies.

Only a few times of the year does it occur, but when the phone rings, vibrates it is a call from a dealer.

Are you up for a mission he asks? You’ve been through the steps, know the drill. Can be trusted with a knapsack of large bills, plenty of cash. As you leave town from a Maine truck stop.

Climbing up into the shot gun seat of a large, shiny 18 wheel semi cab over trailer truck. Turn up the Travis Tritt, Hank Williams Jr, Judds and Clint Black please. As the chorus of “Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?” gets tuned down low to talk.

After just finishing an Alan Jackson song before that crooning “It’s okay to be itty bitty”.

That’s a big 10-4 good buddy. Where you heading the driver asks? Glad to have someone to make conversation with besides whoever usually gets dialed up on the head set. To ease the monotony of reflectorized Interstate 95 highway road markers. To pass the time as white line fever runs its course. The miles recorded with a ruler and counting on fingers to keep the log book current, legal.

You travel light, just barely dressed for the season.

Hanging on tightly to the $15,000 that is filled to the brim. Stashed with cash, no clothing items in the slightly worn dark green LL Bean knapsack. Except a neon yellow brush, small tooth paste tube and push up stick of red original Old Spice deodorant. The knapsack the one tool item that will never wear out, comes with a life time warranty to be replaced for free. No matter what. Even if it was abused, ridden hard and put away wet so to speak. Nothing the manufacturer could have protected the user from out in the willy wags of Maine. But stood behind with a rock solid promise to each and every customer anyway. Neat.

You end up in upper state New York. Smelling of diesel. Pine tree hanging air freshener. The driver shakes your hand, watches you climb down out of the air conditioned cab. Going out into the night. Blending into the shadows. Wished good luck. Ten hours later, give or take a few minutes after linking up with the road jockey sitting on an air ride seat. His own chain drive wallet filled with cash for tight places too. For the long ride out and back to Northern Maine. The top of the world.

You made a series of cell phone calls as you got closer to the pick up destination target.

Text messages pinged back and forth between your contact. Who does not want to meet you at the truck stop with the goods as you suggest. He clearly, efficiently instructs you to meet him in a dark, off the beaten path place. With only a lonely pay phone, park bench. You doze, nod off waiting. Slumped on the only available hard maple seating to be found in these desolate parts. As you wait, text, call, check where Mickey’s big and little had are now. But nothing. No show from Billy Bob or whatever he said his name was. Just not happening as you grow worried, concerned.

Until dawn when a truck pulling a trailer with a loud motor. Combined with the sound of loose, flying disturbed gravel jars you awake. Out of the trance where the sand man put you. Mixed with road fatigue, anxiety all taking its toll. Droggy, a long way from home. And the man you had never set eyes on before, nor will ever again is in one major hurry. Nervous, kurt, okay rude. Barking “Got the money?” and not explaining where he has been for the last eight hours. While you were stood up, cut off and a tad edgy about the knapsack contents to worry about losing. Keeping it intact, used for it’s one and only purpose is pretty much all you have thought about since leaving the nice clean bed. The picket fence and attractive home with attached garage. Where the prettier feminine half of the partnership equation awaits your return. Safe and sound. In one piece and alive. Hopefully.

To pick up a vehicle found online by the car dealer back in Maine.

What did you think we were leading up to? (Smile). Bought off Ebay this time, not Craig’s List. Not an online rental car depot auction. After careful study of the eighty images of the good, bad and yes ugly. Scanning the car fax, running the VIN and generating a few phone calls, a couple emails. Then setting up the details of the meeting rendezvous.

With answers to initial vehicle queries going smoothly. No bumps in the road. And it’s why you got the call. To see if you were up for another adventure, a little road trip. As an Army of one. Hitching a ride to the drop off point.

To bring it in, after the drop of cash released. Getting the keys to fire her up in the exchange. Backed off the trailer behind the pickup with the lift kit, big mudder tires. Sliding across the leather driver’s seat, behind the wheel of the car chased down like Dog the bounty hunter. Without the video cameras, bright lights, boom mic, trench coat and long blond hair dye job. The new to you wheels destined for a dealership parking lot back in Maine. But not staying there for long. Because after a good cleaning, some Texas sunshine being applied with a razzle dazzle of polishes, detailing to make it the prettiest belle of the ball, she’s going to her forever home. Already has a buyer looking for just this kind of ride. In this price range, color and build list of options.

The last retrieval done a few months back in the heart of Manhattan armed with a larger stack of big bill currency.

Reeling in something more exotic. A Porsche. The setting more to your liking. Out in the open and in familiar surroundings because you had spent time there as a young buck. Most of the neighborhoods feel deja vu familiar. Carrying cash because your checks are not the legal tender that will cut it. To get a set of keys and then bounce. To high tail it home. With just enough money to pay the highway tolls. Plastic to swipe for the reinbursed gas fill ups. A bite, snacks to eat along the way.

Maine, a little ways up the pike, but worth the extra two coffees, one bathroom break to get to Vacationland. If it was an easy hike, everyone would be doing it all the time. And something would be lost in the place still unfiltered, natural, unspoiled by man. Unplug, recharge in Maine. Are we there yet?

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

August 4, 2013
Exploring In Maine Is A Lot Like Following A Pirates Treasure Map.

Geocaches in Maine, Have You Ever Uncovered, Stumbled On To One? Used GPS To Find Them?

FACT: Maine is pretty much rural.

The people scattered sparsely around the 108 small Maine towns populating the landscape of Vacationland. Spaced out, far enough apart thinned out so exploring happens. Not always someone handy to give you directions. You can get lost. Especially in the unorganized townships in north western areas of no burg names. “T” this, “R” that and wildlife the only inhabitants. A handful of sporting camps, hunting, fishing, snow sledding camps on leased land not owned property.

Not everything shows up on a map in unorganized areas.

Although the updated Delorme Gazateer is one neat guide to any exploration you do in Maine. The best $15.51 with free shipping you’ll ever spend because little off the beaten cow paths and new roadways show up as the editions get updated. You gotta have a map to play the game.

While I was exploring for the one by one hunt of Maine lighthouses, armed with the Gazateer and GPS screen that helps in some applications jeeping around the Pine Tree State.

Knowing a lighthouse in Maine is right in this neighborhood someplace as getting closer and closer, circling and exploring an area is part of the adventure.

But if you like the hidden treasure, to have the thrill of the hunt for a unique location in Maine, then Geocaching is right up your alley. There are 2,161,487 active geocaches and over 6 million geocachers worldwide. And growing in number as interest in the “sport” increases.

Learn about upcoming Maine Geocaching events. New to the term? Here is more on geocaching, what it’s all about. Geocaching is a lot like a 150-year-old game called “Letterboxing”. And from stories, folks could play Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew or The Hardy Boys. Using clues, and references in the literary works to landmarks to seek out. Kinda along the lines of the Nicholas Cage movie about hunting down treasures. Based on missing clues that surface. That educate on historical facts with a twist of fiction.

Ever tried your hand at geocaching? There are 12394 Maine geocaches to date.

Maine, life here is outdoors, all four seasons. Plenty of fresh air, exercise, wildlife and clean water happens round the calendar.

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

August 2, 2013
The Maine Town Property Tax Bills Sent Out On A Friday For A Reason.

Maine, Working Hard To Live Simply, Pay Your Bills.

Property taxes on Maine real estate, the bills sent out by town assessors on Fridays.

Because from experience, less phone calls and trips to the Maine town office happen. No one likes to see the official looking property tax bill delivered by the man in blue no matter what the weather. But the knee jerk reaction to show distaste for an increase, bump in property taxes is less pronounced when there is a cooling off period built in from the get go.

Two days lag time from the opening of the Maine property tax bill until the opportunity Monday morning to trot in, give the town office a jingle makes a whale of difference.

Other events, situations come into play during the weekend delay in a person’s life. And by the first of the week, the sting of a hefty property tax increase still smarts. But to go the extra mile to look into how come and what can we do about whittling it down fades. Not as foaming at the mouth, as end of the world important or urgent as back when the news first arrived courtesy of the postal service door to door delivery.

It is a given that death and taxes are a sure thing. Part of life but getting the most bang for your buck can cause concern that there must be waste somewhere to justify why the property tax increase happens. Beyond the pain in the wallet or purse, increase in property taxes puts a burden on the rest of the small Maine town. The overhead for businesses takes a jab, compounded by the given long distance costs to transport materials in and products out from this rural outpost. The cost of heating fuel added to the “should I stay or should I go” off shore decision for those now operating in the upper right hand corner of the country.

Individuals not so happy about a property tax increase are feeling the shift from the state capital coffers handed like a hot potato or hand grenade back to the local towns to fund programs and services.

Creating a greater burden on one of the 108 Maine small town municipalities with mounting costs of their own on the local level. Just being a double whammy to the knock down, drag out wrestling of local tax payers who scramble to look for ways to stop the heavy bleeding. For long term survival.

But as the hunt for where to cut back gets eagle eyed, how would you know where the dotted line is on individual departments of a small Maine town without research, attending budget meetings, asking questions? And what if the departments are lean and mean, cut to the bone and waste is not an issue. Level of services provided is and where to ease back the throttle? That is going to hurt. Not going to be popular or win friends. And ruffle everyone’s feathers in that small Maine town.

Human nature can talk up cut backs and service reductions to beat the band.

As long as the scale back is in areas that does not directly affect the Maine property tax payer specifically. Depends on whose ox is being gored. But across the board ease back on the spending RPMs of a small Maine town is not so easy. When state and federal laws dictate they must do this, this and oh yeah, that. With thousands of new bills introduced, modified in committee and many becoming iron clad must do laws yearly. To add to the paperwork shuffle on the local, county and state level in small town Maine that is suffocating local resources. Duplication of services from state, county and local or neighboring townships should be the first inspection area.

Fear of litigation, bad publicity can cause sacred areas of a town budget left untouched too.

Politics does enter into the smell of the room. And across the board rein it in 10% or more schemes with each Maine town department left to do it’s own trimming as it sees fit in prioritizing cuts can be overly simplistic. But better than someone outside the department providing the hit list of what to take out if the executioner does not know the inner workings of the day to day intimately. Like those in the department do. Who should be guiding the cuts they have adjust to, live with in the healing recovery process. But not if the idea if we cut back, we won’t get as much next year for funding derails the belt tightening. Government budgets are not designed for coming in under the mark, giving back what was allocated at the beginning of the year.

“We’ve always done it this way” is not going to be a successful motto to lead the charge. To use in guiding or putting off the required municipal surgery. To avoid hitting an economic artery, to scare away existing or new businesses that fuel, are the engine that drives the local economy. If no jobs, it is like no farmer, no food. Except no pay check to pay the local property tax bill. And pick up the tab for groceries, keep the lights shining with utility charges in the black, not red. Along with property insurance, building upkeep, heating costs, cell phones, kid’s braces and college account payments.

Plus vehicle maintenance, escalating health care expenses and all the other personal line items in the household monthly budget that need timely attention. To be kept current, within budget or below. To create a nest egg, a savings bank cushion to preserve not expecting Uncle Sam to take care of you when it is your job to stand on your own two feet. But to only help those unfortunates, to support just those who can not on their own. Everyone can not be on welfare for long right? If everyone is in the wagon, who is pulling it?

If you want to know if there is any waste in a local town government, poll the people who work in the departments.

Not just the department heads. It may need to be anonymously if fear of job loss or retaliation for spilling the beans, being perceived as a whistle blower for spotlighting slack in the operation. But the folks working day to day know where the waste is. Or of more efficient new methods to get the same or better results. What would you do Mr Second, Third and so on in command if you were king for the day? Leading the department from the helm. The bridge of the Star Ship Enterprise.

Plus the local employees have the rich, valuable history experiences. Of why this method did or did not work way back when. The trial and error knowledge to help hammer out, shape the brave new future path the department should be headed. For much needed correction, adjustment fine tuning to be the best it can be with what it has to work with today. In the budget balancing to keep the small Maine town healthy, economically afloat. The team morale positive, full of pride and respect during the tough decisions that have to be made, not put off any longer. Small children cover their eyes to make problems go away. It does not work so well as adults.

With anyone back biting or overly harsh, negative, critical always, always made to offer workable solutions too.

Not just allowed to lob stray rocks from all directions into the fray of frustration that the cut backs, reductions are bound to cause. Character assassination is destructive. Not the approach chosen when tough decisions need to be implemented. Because folks get scared, defensive if they are in a town position that could be eliminated. Where a pink slip in the salary envelope gets tucked in, generated. Especially upsetting if the folks guiding the chopping block exercise have not done their home work. Rolled up their sleeves, gotten knee deep down and dirty into each department’s inner workings now under ER room, life and death, do or die last hour scrutiny.

But what if the departments of a small Maine town are running tightly, as efficiently as possible? Then vilifying, chastising the public servants, tying them to the whipping post is not going to help find the best solution. Cutting staff and level of service is not a popular subject. But it is long term, get used to it reality, then the simple economics of revenues competing with expenses kicks in. Takes over in the need to yank the steering wheel to seek a balance. To put on the brakes. Or if ignored, property taxes increased annually in a struggling small Maine towns not flush with cash will mean one by one each ceases to exist. And will the last guy out of the small Maine town, shut off the lights please?

Maine, home grown, resourceful and independent. Built to survive.

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

July 31, 2013
Meet The Maine Farmer, Fresh, Locally Grown Food Just Tastes Better.

Grazing Rich Fertile Soil Maine Farm Fields, But Haying So Winter Animal Food Is Plentiful.

Locally grown Maine food is fresh, abundant and provided by your friends and neighbors.

Besides the high nutritional value, knowing where the food came from is kinda important. You develop a relationship with the grower, the Maine farmer who you come to trust to provide food, rich fruit and vegetables for your table. And beef, eggs, milk, other meat and dairy products have the same trust built right into every mouthful your Maine family takes in, gobbles down to hit the spot three times a day.

Do you have a garden, have you started green pepper and tomato plants in peat pots on newspapers on a southern exposure porch window sill?

Or spread out seedlings in rows and rows over a card table covered with old newspapers? Does your home have a designated area in the cellar for a cold storage? Older Maine homes had root cellars for the canning, preserves, barrels of potatoes. For the sand with buried carrots, hooks for hanging onions, shelves for blue hubbard, butternut and other squashes. Do you raise baby beef, have horses, goats, sheep, meat rabbits? Or other small two or four legged Maine farm animals counting on you for grain, hay, water, food of their own?

Initially done for survival and to put a big dent in the food grocery budget. But now out of concern for making sure healthy, safe food is served up daily. Without all loaded up, spiked with the contaminants, chemicals, gases, polishes and who knows what when you pick up mystery food at the Piggly Wiggly Foodmart. It looks good, but is it? Sure does not taste the same as fresh, home grown Maine food in season.

Farming, growing, raising, feeding yourself and others is one of the oldest, noblest professions.

Not too long ago most folks were farmers. Not a lot of money, but everything they needed for not going to bed hungry. Or worrying about your next meal. Even during The Great Depression, famines, wars. And wood lots on part of the Maine farm acreage kept your bones from freezing. Heated the joint. With a cook stove and a whistling tea kettle of hot water always ready for a spot of tea. Shot of coffee. To bake a pot of beans, fresh home made bread to soak up the juices. With potato or cabbage salad, brown bread, hot dogs or steak. Hot water boiling, parked on the wood cook stove corner used to pour on your oatmeal too. After morning chores were completed down at the barn.

If you are like eight out of ten people, you depend on the shelves being stocked fully at neon bright, abundantly displayed urban groceries. But if those eighteen wheels on the semis and box trailers stopped rolling for about three days, panic would happen. Go low on food in a city and a pit in your stomach happens. Beyond just being hungry. Scared happens. Especially if you have a family to feed. And can’t no matter how much money you have stuffed in your pocket to offer. Because you are dependent on others for all your food. On thin ice.

You would do anything to keep your kids from starving.

Including using a gun if needed and that may be part of what Uncle Sam worries about. With all that fire power and ammo in the hands of civilians. Make that a hungry population, and tired, angry picks up a beat. In the tempo of life survival. Food is right up there with air, water, shelter and love as important!

Hit a farmers market in Maine. Plenty of food for everyone. Make it a habit, a healthy one that is win win for you and the local economy that supports itself. Local Maine cows are happier bovine…Moooo-ve toward picking up only locally produced, home grown, close to your house raised dairy products. Veggies, fruits, grains, meats, fish and dairy, poultry products are all right here in the bread basket called Maine. Let’s eat. Let’s hit a local Maine farmers market.

Don’t think we need farmers? No farmers, no food. Pretty basic, not hard to understand. But often taken for granted in this cheap food, mass produced mentality for feeding the masses. And remember, don’t talk with your mouth full if you don’t think farmers are one of the if not the most important components of society. And on a farm in Maine growing up, exposed to no thank you portions. Try it you might grow to like it helpings standard procedure around meal time. Learn more about Maine farmer’s markets.

Farming, more than driving a pickup with a Farmall IH, John Deere green and yellow deer emblem on the bumper.

Wearing western shirts and listening to country music. Much more to it than just fixing a few pasture fence posts when the moose crashes through or frost heaves, tilts them sideways. A little bit more involved than just throwing, growing seeds on top of the ground. Like Jack did with the ones exchanged for the family dairy cow that got traded causing crazy, bizarre results.

Maine, unfiltered natural beauty and no better tasting locally grown food. More than just blueberries, lobsters, potatoes to brag about in Vacationland.

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

July 28, 2013
Advice, Life Path Suggestions, Where Do You Get Yours?

Maine Is A Place Of Less People, More Life Awareness. Rich In Things Money Can Not Buy.

Today in social media there are a lot of opinions, everyone has something to say.

Where do you get your advice, how many mentors do you have? And do you draw back into suggestions for life guidance from sage old farmers? Improving the way it is from lessons learned on how it was. With a sprinkle of hope, faith for the down the road to happen.

Living a simpler life in rural Maine is easier when you have more outdoors, nature, space. Less or no debt in your day to day living.

So the role money plays is removed, less important. Because it is not so much the needed lubricating grease. To keep the wheels of life moving, cogs turning. Complicated happens because of unmet needs addressed artificially right? Self medication with retail therapy is a temporary fix. Over indulgence of everything from food, gambling, sex and even work can be a band aid for a gunshot wound too.

Attended a funeral for my Aunt Rita yesterday and the reality of one by one losing the old guard of the family hits home. Just fact. Down to my last Aunt Helen who looks just the same as always. Can cook up a storm. A one of a kind smile smile, cheerful, positive and what a sense of humor. Funerals should not be family reunions but take them whenever they present themselves right? Don’t miss a chance to learn more from your family. The folks you are lucky to be stuck with and hopefully they feel pretty much the same about you in return.

Listening, reflection during a funeral sermon of a family member’s life mapped out down front. Coupled with a chorus of Amazing Grace, other hymns. Makes you open up, think about other pearls of wisdom that surface. Bubble to the top, front of your brain. That departed family even closer, near and dear, Moms and Dads left seeded. Planted behind for the living. To use, apply as they chose, see fit. The need arises.

Moderation is the advice that struck me, dove tailed wove into my thoughts with the meet and greet with family gathering. Coming together for the funeral last ride in the polished white Cadillac hearse.

The line of cars with lights on winding slowly to the cemetery. Other motorists stopping, pulling over in respect. The grave side burial, final prayers, and slow lowering into the ground process.

To transition too, the living left behind that feels the jolt. During the loss of a family member. That you first knew as a very young grasshopper. Remembered best the younger version. Mixed in a “where’s Waldo” large sea of noisy, running, laughing cousins. Who religiously got together to play, socialize with our parents and entire families every Sunday afternoon. Moms and Dads taking turns in a steady rotation of each Aunt and Uncle’s home bases starred as this week’s showcase setting. When there are over thirteen brothers and sisters in your parent’s respective families, that is many different households and backyards to try out. Get exposed to, sample and compare to your own.

Sitting on the solid wood church benches, out in the funeral congregation, I thought of my Mom. From the same era as the lady we were honoring, remembering yesterday. And picking up a gem from her steady selection of themes she shared, shaped her four boys with growing up. Moderation was the sponsor of the day. Just showed up inside to chew on, consider.

Moderation defined as the process of elimination, lessening extremes. In an over indulgent, right now poor impulse control society fueled with a hunger, a need for drive through quick. With speed of thought immediate gratification, the need to practice moderation applies more than ever.

Moderation, as a governor, safety restrictor to point out, remind the person you talk to each morning in the mirror to just hold your horses there partner.

To avoid rushing. To replace it with leisurely savoring. Not everything action needing to be action packed, multi task bundled for the greatest efficiency end all. To free up time so you can crowd in more stuff to do is not the exercise take away either. Or to dream up more things you have to have. Can’t live without, no matter what the cost. And kill yourself getting them. Less is more and not the other way around. Maine is a simpler approach to life for sure. Reality makes you sober, to realize you have more than enough. Easy does it. Look around. Catch the score.

Moderation recognizes one’s limits, is a metronome timed internal process to reach a middle ground. And for the most part camp there. Stay put. Pretty much parked in this neutral area. To avoid the peaks and valleys that are quickly dismissed as “bi polar”. It seems everyone is saddled with the condition. Labeled with giddy, hysteric high tendencies. Below the bottom of the ocean rock bottom lows. Teeter tottering the between the two for a struggle at a sane life balance.

Like driving in a Maine snowstorm with rear wheel traction, you sometimes do need to accelerate to power your way out of dangerous spin, slide. The opposite of your instinct to pile on the brakes if out of control is happening. To stop the show. Freeze the action. When going slower, or not at all heading out an option. Being more cautious, leaving a little earlier for travel time would have avoided the suddenly going sideways, or backwards. Rather than enjoying open road straight ahead that is not always life’s course or challenge. Thanks Mom. You’re right. I hear you. I won’t forget. Can’t and tell the kids the same principles you instilled in me.

Maine, less people, more open space, life is easier to understand, improve. Always natural, never filtered, Maine is better than the real deal. It’s not like this many other places anymore. Come discover Maine. Learn something about yourself with simpler living, more breathing room for you.

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

July 25, 2013
Alignment, Isn’t That The Most Critical Life Adjustment?

Uneven, Rocky Crooked Paths But Still Seeking Alignment. Balance,

Lining up the bubble on the pop level you build with to make sure everything is on the same plane.

The same altitude. Sanding off high spots. Adding a shim to give one side a boost, lift. Not leaving anything ee-awed, cockeyed. At an ugly angle climbing or descending. But even keeled the target condition. Level, one side no higher than the other, in balance. Isn’t that life gyroscope a balancing act of it’s own before introducing one by one the other relationships we need, find ourselves smack dab in the middle of in life?

Then reaching the same plateau together in a place like Maine. Rural, simple, uncomplicated. But often not without taking vastly separate life courses, trails or detours before landing in Maine. To get to the place both arrive at right on time. From different directions, set of circumstances.

In alignment with another person, in harmony starts, ends within yourself first and last.

Each straight arrow flexibility added temperament created, improved from within first. Not only contingent on maintaining it if the other does, this, this and oh yeah, lots of that. And none of all of this laundry list of items, habits, actions. Very few of us are identical twins. No egg was split way way back when introduced to life as a brand new grasshopper.

And responsibility for how you feel a choice you make and not being, playing a victim. Isn’t that lazy if you don’t take ownership? Putting the burden of how the day to day goes all shifted from inside you to heaped on the others. Folks in your life treated that way ignites, boils over with disastrous results and consequences.

Finger pointing about you missed something is a bad habit to break.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda been smarter. Quicker to do this when that occurred causing the fine kettle of fish we find ourselves in now. Stewing, fuming about it. Creating a pool of venom to poison your life. Rob the joy.

Instead wouldn’t a happy in themselves whole person not hold others hostage in any relationship? Making how the partnership goes not solely dependent on the other person’s performance alone. The tone, attitude of the day to day not hinged to meeting the others expectations only. Instead, choosing to work on the inside job list that all of us struggle to improve on and take ownership of as maturity sets in. For the good of the unity, couple. Strengthening it to weather future storms that will arrive right on schedule.

Alignment.

You see how important it is with your car tires. You need the wheel alignment and balance of each to be tracking true and level, even. Expensive if you don’t. Your poor aching back alignment critical too. You don’t need a scalpel making a new zipper in your back to end the pain and stiffness. Often one of your legs is longer than the other. Did you know that? Let’s put a lift in that left shoe.

And make some other life adjustments too. Get off the couch, chuck the TV changer to somewhere you can not find it. Use it. Like whatta say let’s lose fifty pounds the builder, manufacturer of your body never intended for you to wear around. Not in the specs, plan. And voila, you are no longer stooped, bent over, folded up like a jack knife. But straight as a arrow. Pointing skyward. Tried, tested and true north. Like plants, trees seek to do no matter what the side hill surface or un-level rocky, barren terrain.

Straighten out your life by little adjustments to maintain balance, a shortest course, to practice moderation. Maine is a good place to get your head screwed on correctly. Not matter what happened prior to landing, spending time in Vacationland. Get rest, understanding in the place with the space. A common theme in this simple living Maine blog post series of hunt and peck recycled electron displays.

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

July 18, 2013