I am a hobo. My dictionary defines a hobo as a migratory worker. I have been a hobo for a year. I am living at Camden State Park while working at my fellowship at The Center For Furniture Craftsmanship. Rob and I have moved campsites three times. The office lady now looks at us wearily every time we go through the gate. It takes us 15 minutes to pack up and move to a new site, so we shop for new spots whenever we walk to the bathhouse or go to get water. The spot we are looking for needs easy access to showers, a big fire pit area, space for trailer, my van, Rob’s van, and Wi-fi that doesn’t bleep out at 9:00 PM. I don’t think I spent this much time looking for my house. The fire pit has been a big part of our existence the last week and a half. We have had some fabulous meals, philosophical conversations and quiet thought time. Rob is the easiest person I have ever lived with. We spend a lot of time laughing. A few days ago he thought he was getting to serious with his furniture work so he switched gears and made a replica of his memory of a native American war club that his grandparents owned. I liked watching him make it. He smiled the whole time. He expressed to me that he did not want it to seem like a tool of destruction. We thought long and hard about what he could add to the business end that was not sharp and threatening. I had the idea of buckteeth. The thought made us laugh so hard that we knew it was the answer. The dysfunctional war club has now become a collaborative project. I cut some real beautiful chompers out of holly. Rob drilled and started the dental surgery to put them in place. This project has really made me laugh. We still have more to do but have set it aside till one of us is struck by the next step. This is the kind of fun I want to have more often with my work. Here are some pictures from our week.