When last I discussed the local squirrels, it was 2015. That's a lot of proverbial water under the rhetorical bridge. It's two moves, a job loss, and the death of my father ago. It's also six months in a hotel while I played dutiful son to my widowed mother and found a house for the two of us. So you'll forgive me if there's a bit of a disconnect between the squirrels in part one of this account and the different squirrels in part two.

I'd planned to post to the blog about my crowd funding campaign. That post is now unnecessary. In two days, with minimal promotion, I blew through my modest goal, and now have to consider additional "stretch" goals to deal with the fact that I've raised nearly 150% of what I intended.

I knew this is how a successful crowd funding campaign works. Nonetheless, dealing with what I understood conceptually, and the reality thereof are two vastly different things.

The plan was to ease the move-in by taking care of some very modest bits of home repair, and making sure there are curtains in each room, and a rug for the floor. Finally, because it will make my life ever so slightly more pleasant, a portion of the funds were to go to create a raised bed garden. Yes, all those things will now happen, plus I'm staring at an additional $300 or so, which means I can choose one additional project.

There's time to plan this fourth project. The ink on the signatures is barely dry and we're waiting on confirmation from the bank and a closing date. I don't even have a date for the move just yet. But I have the results of the home inspection in hand. There's some minor soil subsidence along the foundation on the east side of the house which could stand a slight berm so that water flows away from the building. The garage needs to be weatherproofed and electrified. There's really no end to small projects around even a well-maintained house.

So the extra money will find use, and I will document all of it.

I'm a little flabbergasted at how quickly this took place, however.

Yes, I'm an unabashed fan.

I consider Wil Wheaton to be an awesomely descent human being.

That's it.

You could be forgiven if you didn't know the history, for thinking that this place was somehow stuck in a previous century. A whole lot of weirdness washed under the bridge, leaving the surface appearances intact. This old town has about the same population it once had, and although there's no longer such a thing as the "United States Navy," the former shipyard, which for an age was used to break up the remains of the previous age's "nuclear deterrent" is now home to a fab. Okay, sure, the fab doesn't employ anyone. Products are made and sold and shipped with not a human involved. Metal de-orbits into the Pacific water-landing zone (best not to ask where in the asteroid belt it's coming from), and is brought in across the Juan de Fuca seawall. The seawall — It's the main reason the entire region isn't under 70 feet of ocean.

Jobs? Work is where you make it. Basic income and fair housing and free medical and as much school as you can stomach — These days folks are free to find the work which makes them happiest. It was that way even before the changes — Even before things went weird on us. Some people say it’s a paradise. Others not so much. Can’t make everyone happy.

Yep, you'd be forgiven for thinking that all that weirdness missed this place completely. The entire region looks like some throwback to the old normal.