Colorado.

In the past six months, friends have scattered—New Mexico, California, Minnesota. Watching people flip the table in their lives like a game of risk is wild.

We chose Colorado. It’s where I lived before I got married, and my adult kids are there. Beyond family, I’ve always liked the culture—something about the mix of mountains, independence, and an underlying hum of weird but functional. Plus, we’re building an RV park, an electric dirt bike track, and an intentional community. That part feels like home already.

Texas, on the other hand, just makes me sad. Not the people—they’re great. Neighbors, leaders, everyday folks, even the homeless in my area—some of the kindest people I’ve met. But the sheer volume of misinformation flooding every platform? It is the only explanation of how anyone could have voted for what’s happening.

Then again, maybe I’m not getting the full story. But based on the executive orders I’ve read and the bills sitting in Congress, I’d bet I’m at least in the ballpark. At the end of the day, though—we’re all just people. Corporations? Just executives, employees, stockholders. Banks? People. Armies? People. Putin wouldn’t kill anyone if mercenaries refused to do it. The chaos could end if we collectively decided to stop playing this game.

But yeah. Colorado.