DerpLab FarmStead Blog

     This week came with a big milestone — one I’ve been working toward for a long time, and one I honestly wasn’t sure how it would feel when it finally happened. About 30 minutes before writing this, my Jeep officially left my life. Not in a sad way. In a right way.      A couple was in town for a soccer tournament and spotted it sitting there with the for‑sale signs. I missed their call, but their voicemail had that unmistakable Jeep‑person excitement. When I called back, they were already buzzing to come check it out.      And these weren’t just casual buyers — these were Jeep people. The kind who’ve owned as many as I have. The kind who know what they’re looking at, what they’re getting into, and why old Jeeps matter. We walked through everything I’d done to it, everything that came with it, and they were all in.      Then came the Sunday-at-5pm problem:      -Where do you notarize a title?    ...

 After getting rid of the couch, everything suddenly picked up speed. It’s funny how one big piece leaving the house can break the logjam. Once that thing was gone, it felt like the whole downsizing machine finally kicked into gear. We’ve been listing, selling, and giving away stuff nonstop — and apparently even the weird projects I built over the years have a place in someone else’s world.      Case in point: the French‑cleat “pho wall TV hanger.”      We had no idea what to call it when we listed it, so we just threw up pictures and called it "lumber" and hoped for the best. The guy who came to get it said he wanted to use it for his TV… which, honestly, is exactly what I built it for. I walked him through how I had it mounted, and what he thought was going to be a whole project turned out to be exactly what he needed. Always nice when something you made gets a second life instead of ending up in a landfill.      With the couch gone, t...

     Well… the couch is finally gone. In the end, we just listed it for free because at this point it was less about the money and more about getting the living room back so I can keep moving on the house. And honestly, the second it left, the room felt twice as big. It’s wild how much space furniture eats without you realizing it.      Now that the living room is cleared out, I can finally get back to the real work: scraping the popcorn ceiling, skim coating it, and trying to make the place look like it wasn’t built by someone who hated drywall. You can see every spot something’s ever been hung, every bad tape job from the original build, every little flaw that’s been hiding behind furniture for years. When I did the dining room, I ended up cutting out and replacing tape in several places, so I’m assuming the living room is going to be the same kind of adventure.      Meanwhile, we’re still sorting through the house, listing things as we com...

     Some weekends feel productive. Some feel chaotic. And then there are weekends like this one — where you do a ton of work, make real progress, and still somehow feel stuck in the same spot. We washed both cars, which sounds small, but honestly the Jeep hasn’t been that clean since I bought it. It deserved one last proper scrub before going up for sale, and now it’s officially listed. That should feel like a big milestone… but it doesn’t quite land yet. Probably because everything else still feels like it’s in limbo until the cars sell. And speaking of selling things — let’s talk about the couch.      This couch has been listed for weeks. It’s a nice leather reclining couch, and we’re asking a hundred bucks. One hundred. You’d think that would make it fly out the door. Instead, we get messages like:      “Can I buy just the left side?”      and      “Could I come cut it in half in your yard?” I don’t know what...

     This last week was another round of sorting, listing, and letting go. We spent a bit of time putting more items up for sale, and a few things actually moved. Every little bit helps — both in clearing space and in knocking down the last of our debts so we can finally put this dream in motion.      We’re still hunting for the right truck. After looking at way too many listings, we finally agreed on one non‑negotiable: it has to be a four‑door with leg room in the back. We like the Dodge MegaCab with a Cummins. The look, the space, the capability — it just checks all the boxes. Ideally we’ll find one with a camper shell already on it. We’re leaning toward a bumper‑pull camper so we can keep the truck bed open for the dogs and gear.      We got wifey’s car listed, and the first offer was a classic lowball offer. Marketplace never fails to entertain. I also listed my PLA filament, and it sold out in under twenty minutes. Wifey was a little su...

     This weekend was one of those rare stretches where everything felt busy in the best possible way. We finally tackled some of the bigger items on our “must‑go” list — the couch, a couple of recliners, that old gun cabinet, and a handful of other bulky pieces that have been taking up space both physically and mentally. And here’s the best part: things actually sold. That gun cabinet in particular has been haunting me for a while. I’ve listed it a couple times before with almost zero interest, so this time we priced it low just to move it. And boom — gone. Watching someone load it up and drive away felt like a tiny victory flag planted in the middle of the chaos. The couch is the next big domino I’m hoping will fall. Once that beast is out of here, I can finally finish stripping the ceiling and get the living room refinished. That’s one of the last major steps before we can list the house, and I’m itching to get it done. Every time I walk past that room, I can see ...

       I’ve lived my entire life within a 100‑mile radius. Northwest Wyoming has been my whole world — the mountains, the small towns, the familiar faces, the same roads I’ve driven since I was old enough to sit in the passenger seat. With the exception of travel, this corner of the state has shaped almost everything about me. And I do love Wyoming. But loving a place doesn’t mean you’re meant to stay there forever.      Outgrowing the Space We Have Our current home is… fine. But it’s small. Too small for two dogs, too small for gardening, too small for the kind of life we’re trying to build. We own it, but we share walls with neighbors and don’t even have guaranteed parking. Property prices here are high, and the cost of living keeps climbing. Every month feels like we’re paying more for less. We want room to breathe — literally and financially.      Wanting a Different Kind of Life We’ve reached a point where we want land, space, ...

     There’s this picture that keeps looping in my head lately — me stepping out the door of our future place, walking into a garden or greenhouse, and picking dinner with my own hands. Not because it’s trendy or because I’m trying to “live off the land” in some dramatic way, but because it feels like coming home to something humans have always done.      It wasn’t that long ago that everyone had a garden. Not a hobby. Not a weekend project. Just part of life. Food didn’t come wrapped in plastic or stacked under fluorescent lights. It came from the dirt behind the house, from hands that knew the plants, from seasons that shaped the meals. And honestly, the more I think about it, the more I want that rhythm back.      I remember my grandma’s garden when I was a kid — the smell of warm soil, the snap of a pea pod, the way you could wander through the rows and just… munch. Just sunshine, dirt, and food that tasted like it actually wanted to be ...

     Every once in a while, life hands you a moment of clarity disguised as something ordinary. For me, it was a dusty three‑ring binder I hadn’t opened in years. Inside were pages dated August 2012 — printouts, sketches, guides, and plans I’d collected back when the idea of going off‑grid was still just a spark in my chest. I didn’t know it then, but I was documenting the earliest version of the life I’m finally building now. Flipping through it felt like opening a time capsule from a younger version of myself who already knew exactly what he wanted.  What Was Inside the Binder The first page hit me right in the nostalgia:   “How Living Off the Grid Works.” From there it spiraled into a full‑blown blueprint of early homestead dreams: Solar hot water heater plans A DIY septic system guide Notes on generating your own power A 3 dome living‑space layout A thorough papercrete guide — including how to build a mixer And then the big one: a massive aquaponics print...

  We’ve spent a lot of time staring at used trucks lately. Hours of scrolling, comparing, zooming in on blurry photos, and trying to decode listings written in what might as well be another language sometimes. It’s become its own little ritual—coffee, couch, and a parade of Fords, Dodges, and the occasional “runs great just needs a transmission” special. One thing became clear pretty fast: Diesel is a must for us. Not because it’s trendy or because we want to roll coal like idiots, but because of what we’re planning. Until we find the right land, we need something tough enough to pull a camper or RV, haul water, drag supplies, and keep going without complaint. Gas trucks can do some of that, sure, but diesel does it without complaining. Buying new isn’t even on the table. We’re not dropping $80k on a truck when we’re trying to build a homestead. So the used market is where we live now. Ford: The Overthinker’s Truck Ford makes great trucks, but wow… they do not make it simple. Ever...

  I don’t know when it happened exactly — the moment my brain stopped drifting and started pulling toward a different life — but lately it’s all I can think about. The truck. The camper. The land. The freedom. The quiet. The space to finally build the life we’ve been talking about for years instead of just surviving the one we’re in. It’s like something in me finally snapped into place. Not in a dramatic way — more like a quiet click. A realization that if I want this dream to happen, I have to move toward it every single day, even if the steps are small. And right now, those steps look like this:  • figuring out the truck and camper situation • prepping the house to sell • downsizing a space that somehow feels bigger than it is • trying not to drown in the stress of it all • keeping the dream in focus even when the day-to-day feels heavy The truth is, our current home isn’t huge. But when you’re trying to uproot your entire life, even a small space can feel like a m...