By MARY BETH MAASSEN
Los Alamos
We had all gathered at a women’s writing weekend near Albuquerque. As we took turns introducing ourselves, one woman in particular made an impression on me.
She introduced herself as an attorney from New York. She and her husband had finally made enough money that they could “afford to live simply” and had recently moved to New Mexico to do just that. They were building an adobe home in Georgia O’Keeffe country. She kinda looked like Georgia O’Keeffe.
During the morning break I found the Georgia look-a-like (GLL). I asked where she was building her new home and she described a lovely Chama River lot in the shadow of the red rocks. The conversation went like this:
Me: “Wow! That sounds incredible. The country around Abiquiu is gorgeous.”
GLL: “It is really beautiful. Hopefully by the end of next summer we will have all the adobe bricks made and we can really start building.”
Me: “You are making your own adobe bricks?”
GLL: “Yes, My husband and I spent the entire summer living in a trailer on the property and making adobe bricks. He went to a week-long workshop last year to learn how to make adobe.”
Me (thinking about how absolutely miserable that would be): “You are really dedicated! I would have called the brickyard after the first 20 minutes.”
GLL: “Oh, that would have been nice, but you can’t buy these adobe bricks, you have to make them.”
Me: “Really? Our house is made of regular adobe block that came from a brickyard. I don’t know what the difference would be.”
GLL raises an eyebrow, and asks: “You think they are the same adobe brick?”
Me (realizing I have accidently stumbled into a sensitive situation): “I only know about one adobe brick, but it seems like there could be lots of different kinds…”
Another woman, who was standing nearby and scrolling through her phone, steps forward. She shows us her phone screen and says “Looks like all adobe bricks are about the same, they cost less than $2 a brick. There are several adobe brickyards in New Mexico and there is one about three miles away…hmmmm”.
GLL (eyes grow wide and then narrow to be really, really, squinty): “No @#@ way! No way! He said everyone has to make their own. You can’t buy them.” She pulls out her own phone and says, “I have to go….” She disappears quickly through the door and that was the end of her workshop experience.
So now, a few years later, I don’t know if that adobe house was built. I don’t know if there are two people living simply and contentedly in the lovely adobe home by the river, or maybe there is only one person living there. I just don’t know what I don’t know. No one knows what they don’t know. What I do know is living simply is ongoing. It is a constant muddy and complicated process.