24/7/365 - Tips for staying together when you work together and live in a 160 square foot box

24/7/365 - and loving it!

A few days ago we were out working on the trail and stopped to chat with some passing hikers. As usually happens in such conversations. Once folks learn that we live onsite, volunteer for fun and  are full time 'retirees' they ask 'how do you do it?' We launched into our usual explainations (covered in prevous blog posts), but they stopped us short. "No, How do you live and work together every single day, all day?"

We didn't have an answer for that. But I've been thinking.


First off, we're lucky, we do get along well. Somehow we're just generally in the same grove and there are few conflicts. So the bigger question is how do we handle problems, or what do we do when we're annoyed with each other?

Working together on the trail, when it was hot and dusty, gave me some time to think. I think it boils down to timing, an appreciation of possible consequences, and the ability to give the other person some leeway. In other words it is being together so much that allows us to get along so well. It's timing...and knowing...and using both of them together.

Take, for instance, S.D.'s habit of using the McLeod to push the rocks into a berm on the side

The McLeod -
Get one, they're great!

of the trail rather than completely off the trail and down the hill and thereby creating a trail trough. This annoys the bleep out of me.  At the beginning of the day, when we're fresh, cool, and full of energy I'll either casually mention it or let it 'ride', following him, and pushing the rocks off myself.  About the same time, I'll notice that he's casually clearing out the water bars that I 'overlooked'. He thinks I'm a little too lax in my water bar maintence. But we're in good moods, it's no big deal.

Later in the day, as our moods and tolerances lower, I'll make a comment, hoping it's a hint, about how the last trail crew piled the rocks on the side.  "Looks at this berm" I'll cleverly say, "that last crew just created an canal for the summer rains to run down and erode everything." Meanwhile S.D. wll offer to clean all the waterbars for me.  We're getting a little too tired to let it ride, but still thoughtful enough to kindly broach the subject of our annoyances.

By the time the sun is beating down and the wind is blowing dust up our noses we could be more annoyed than ever but know that ours moods might be too foul to bring up the subject in a constructive manner.  Now when I notice him clearing my water bars, it's hard not to comment, but hopefully I manage some restraint.

Also being together all the time means we don't have to ask that dreaded couple question "how was your day?".  We were together when he dropped a huge rock on his toe at 10:20, and then I wacked myself with the McLeod at 2:00.  That having happened, I know at 2:30, it's probably not a good time to mention the pile of rocks left in the middle of the trail.

Conversely, if it's been an especially bad day, we know without asking that it's a good day to say or do something nice for the other. Take for instance last Wednesday.  Sunny, 82 blistering degrees, 4% humidity and we were on the trail, chainsawing juniper, oaks, cholla cactus and sotol. Well, we were supposed to be. After lugging the chainsaw, and the gas half way down the trail (1.5 miles) the bleeping thing stopped working.  We had to lug the thing all the way back and....look forward to doing it again.  Oh and we ran out of water.  We went through 6 liters in 5 hours.  We both knew it was so bad, it was time to be especially good to each other. We cracked a few jokes and when we got home, brought each other big glasses of water, cool bottles of beer and made ourselves an especially nice dinner.

On the other hand, if it's been a beautiful day, we've watched a pair of red tail hawks ride the

Refreshing lunch-time spot

termals up Bear Canyon, seen a herd of mule deer grazing below, enjoyed lunch in a shady, cool wash; we know that now might just be the right time to talk about 'issues.' After a particularly nice day, say a hike up to Guadalupe Peak, it's a good time to forward S.D. the 2007 "Guide to Sustainable Mountain Trails" and facilitate a discussion on their recommendation of a 10 to 15 percent horizontal footbed slope. Then when he points out the section on waterbar maintaince, I can laugh and take the lesson in stride.

SD says:  She's lucky I'm so easy going.