Why Lucy Will Have a Paper Trail

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Stardate 05.07.2026

It’s official. Game on.

Yesterday, I ordered the first batch of extruded aluminum for Lucy after finally locking down the exact dimensions for the galley module. That moment shifted something—it turned an idea I’ve been carrying into something I can actually touch and build.

That’s when it starts to feel real.

There are two van-building creators I’ve been learning from for a long time. Both have built hundreds of systems for customers, and I’ve picked up a lot just by studying how they approach design and execution.

What finally moved me forward was timing meeting preparation. A sale showed up on the exact aluminum size I had already decided on—surfacing through one of their affiliate links. That was the nudge.

Not pressure. Just alignment.

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There’s a reason I’m going to keep a detailed paper trail on this entire build.

I don’t just want to complete Lucy. I want to document what I learn in a way that could actually help someone else who decides to do the same thing. If I can figure this out step by step with limited outside help, it’s reasonable to believe someone else can too.

That’s the point of the record.

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Here’s the interesting part: I don’t even own the van yet.

But I’m no longer waiting for that piece to begin.

Instead, I’m building the system first—module by module, skill by skill. When the van finally arrives, everything will already have a place to go.

That approach mirrors how I’m trying to live right now:
steady progress, not dramatic leaps.

Small improvements. Repeated daily.

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The good news with this first order is that the supplier will cut the extruded aluminum to exact dimensions for the galley. That removes one of the more technical hurdles and lets me move forward with more confidence and less guesswork.

I’m going to take my time with each section and learn as I go.

At this stage, it really does feel like building Legos—just on a much larger and more permanent scale.

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One of the most interesting parts of this journey is how many tools are now available to ordinary builders.

Between experienced creators online, community knowledge, and AI support, the barrier to entry for projects like this has dropped in a way that didn’t exist years ago.

I’m not doing this alone. I’m doing it with access.

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Stay tuned.

This is only the beginning.

May you live long and prosper.

How I Found Happy Michael

Stardate 05.06.2026

This story is for the people who are known for being happy and quietly wonder where that happiness went.

I’m one of those people.

It’s a strange feeling when others still see the smile, yet something inside feels out of tune. Like a well-kept car that looks perfect from the outside while the owner senses a faint vibration no mechanic can locate. You can’t always name what’s wrong. You just know something has shifted.

I’m not putting a label on that feeling today. It shows up differently for each of us.

I will say this: finding Happy Michael again felt almost as difficult as finding the inanimate object that once seemed attached to my hip.

Those who know me understand I’m talking about Wilson.

I didn’t lose him carelessly. Wilson was express mailed to a friend battling cancer during the pandemic. It felt right at the time. She needed a companion more than I did.

What I didn’t realize was how much of my own joy I had quietly tied to that volleyball.

Wilson had been present in some of the most joyful chapters of my life. Then the pandemic arrived. The world slowed to a stop. The adventures stopped. The laughter thinned out. A wave of emotions came that I was not prepared to navigate. I felt like I was trying to keep my head above water without knowing how to swim in those conditions.

The first time Happy Michael resurfaced happened in a place that didn’t seem remarkable at all.

A small café. Breakfast with my wife. A quiet morning.

In the middle of that ordinary moment, a feeling returned that I had not experienced in years. It was deeper than the surface happiness people knew me for. It caught me off guard. I remember sitting there thinking, What is this?

I didn’t understand then that this was the beginning of a change taking place inside me. Something had shifted, like the tide slowly turning. No one announces when the tide changes. You only notice that the water is moving in a different direction.

Emotions feel a lot like that. They rise. They fall. They move in ways we don’t control.

All I know today is that the tide has been moving in a healthier direction.

Happy Michael is back.

I didn’t arrive here alone. I needed a professional to step into the water with me when I felt like I was drowning. That part matters more than I ever realized. Healing is not a solo swim. There were moments that felt frightening. There were moments I misunderstood what I was feeling. Having someone steady beside me made all the difference.

This remains a process. Some days still feel uncertain. I keep moving forward anyway.

Scripture speaks gently into this place:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

That closeness has become very real to me.

If you are reading this and wondering where your own happiness went, please hear this: you are not alone in that search. There is no shame in asking for help. There is wisdom in not swimming by yourself.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

I’m grateful for the quiet morning in that café. Grateful for the people who stepped into the water with me. Grateful that tides do change, even when we cannot see it happening.

May you live long and prosper.

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Captain, emotional tides appear to follow patterns that are difficult to chart.”
Bones: “That’s because we’re not meant to navigate them alone, Spock.”

Some days the water feels calm. Some days it feels deep. I’m learning to keep swimming, trusting that I don’t have to do it by myself.

Getting Ready for District Championships and Beyond

Stardate 05.05.2026

We are one month away from our district championships in the Men’s 40+ and 55+ divisions. The winner of each match moves on to regional competition. The calendar has been quietly counting down while we’ve been putting in the work.

It has been a strong season for our group. These men show up for each other. There is a shared commitment to teamwork and steady improvement that you can feel the moment we step onto the court. We encourage one another. We laugh together. We compete hard without losing sight of the joy that brought us here in the first place.

All winter we trained on the indoor courts. Long rallies. Careful footwork. Small adjustments that add up over time. Now we return to the outdoor courts for this final month of preparation. The wind, the sun, the changing light — they all become part of the game again.

The weather will decide some of our practice locations for us. Some days we will be inside. Some days we will be outside. We don’t get to choose. We only get to prepare.

That realization has stayed with me.

There is something about learning to play well in both environments. Indoors, the conditions are steady and predictable. Outdoors, everything asks for awareness and adaptability. A good team learns to move comfortably in both settings.

Life feels like that sometimes.

There are seasons when everything feels controlled and familiar. There are seasons when the elements shift around us and we have to adjust our footing. The goal remains the same. The approach simply requires attention.

This final month is not about dramatic changes. It’s about sharpening what we already know. Trusting the habits we’ve built. Staying ready for whatever conditions greet us on match day.

Scripture reminds me of this steady posture:

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

Preparation often looks quiet from the outside. Repetition. Patience. Showing up again and again without fanfare. Yet this is where confidence is formed.

Regional competition will be intense. Every team that arrives there has earned their place. The margin between winning and losing will be small. What carries a team forward is not emotion in the moment, but the foundation built long before the match begins.

That’s where we are right now.

Lacing shoes. Stepping onto different courts. Paying attention to the little things. Encouraging the man beside us.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

I’m grateful for the chance to be part of this group of men. Grateful for the way sport has a way of teaching lessons without announcing that it is doing so. Grateful for another opportunity to prepare with purpose.

May you live long and prosper.

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock: “Preparation, Captain, is simply the discipline of meeting the future before it arrives.”
Bones: “I’d settle for everyone remembering to stretch before they try to meet it.”

Sometimes the court is steady. Sometimes the wind is part of the match. Either way, I’m learning to keep my footing and trust the work that’s already been done.

What is Lucy?

What is Lucy? 

Stardate 05.04.2026

There are moments when a project stops being a collection of ideas and starts becoming something closer to identity.

This is one of those moments.

For a long time, I thought building something like a van meant choosing cabinets, picking colors, and figuring out where things should go. But the more time I spend thinking about it, watching others build, and imagining my own path forward, the more I realize something different is taking shape.

So I asked myself a simple question:

What is Lucy?

And the answer surprised me in its simplicity.

Lucy is a modular system built on a fixed structural spine.

That’s it. That’s the foundation.

Everything else is detail.

But behind that sentence is a way of thinking that feels different from anything I’ve tried before.

Lucy is not being designed as a traditional camper or a finished interior that gets installed all at once. She is being shaped like a system—something that can be assembled, adjusted, and improved over time.

A structure first. Then living components that attach to it.

A spine that holds everything together.

From there, the rest begins to take form.

There is a fixed sleeping system in mind—a queen bed that anchors the space and sets the rhythm of the interior. Not as something that folds or transforms, but something stable enough to trust. Beneath it, space becomes functional instead of wasted. A place where structure and utility begin to overlap.

At the rear, the idea that first caught my attention still stands out: a pull-out grill system built with strength in mind. Not a lightweight accessory, but a mechanical extension of the van itself. Something that slides out, works hard, and disappears cleanly when not in use.

Above it all, the roof becomes another layer of the system—solar panels collecting energy, quietly supporting everything happening below. And alongside that, a portable extension of that same system exists on the ground when needed, expanding capability without complicating the structure overhead.

What I’m beginning to see is that nothing in Lucy exists in isolation.

Every piece has to connect to something else.

Every module has to serve a purpose beyond itself.

And everything ultimately ties back to that spine.

I’ve been thinking about why this approach feels different. I think it’s because it removes excess. It forces clarity. Instead of asking, “What else can I add?” it asks, “Does this belong on the system?”

That question alone changes everything.

It also reflects something I’m learning in life more broadly—that strength doesn’t always come from adding more. Sometimes it comes from building something solid enough that everything else can be simplified around it.

There’s still a long road ahead before Lucy becomes real. There are measurements to confirm, systems to map, and decisions that will need to be made carefully and in the right order.

But for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m chasing an idea.

I feel like I’m defining one.

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” — Proverbs 16:3

There’s comfort in that—not in rushing the outcome, but in trusting the process of building something with intention.

If Lucy has a purpose, maybe it’s not just travel or utility or even creativity.

Maybe it’s simply this:

To build something that holds together because it was designed to.

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Captain’s Addendum

Bones: “So let me get this straight, Jim—he’s building a house that moves, and everything has to fit like it was engineered by Vulcans?”

Spock: “Doctor, I believe the correct term is ‘system optimization through structural coherence.’”

Bones: “That’s just a fancy way of saying he doesn’t want anything rattling loose at 70 miles an hour.”

And maybe that’s the quiet truth of it.

In life, as in building, what matters most isn’t how much you add—but whether what you build can hold together when things get rough.

Thank you for walking this road with me.

May you live long and prosper.

Full Circle

Stardate 05.03.2026

This story is for anyone who feels distracted, lost, overlooked, unseen, overwhelmed… or simply worn down by life.

I’m with you.

I’ve always been with you — even during the long stretches when I wasn’t fully present in my own life.

I know what it feels like when disappearing seems easier than participating. When keeping your head above water takes everything you have, and you still feel like you’re sinking.

During the season that included COVID, I tried hard to stay upbeat. I tried to muscle through it. I tried to pretend I was managing better than I was.

But underneath, I was struggling.

So I did something different.

I asked for help.

For the men who came before me, that wasn’t the pattern. Strength meant silence. Endurance meant keeping it to yourself. You handled your business privately and didn’t burden anyone else with it.

I’ve come to believe that way of thinking cost a lot of good people unnecessary pain.

Seeking help did not make me weaker.

It helped me find my way back.

I still have a long way to go. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve come full circle.

For me, full circle means returning to the kid I once was — the one who lived in a natural state of joy without having to work for it. The kid who laughed easily. The kid who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Some of the kids I grew up with are no longer here.

My neighbor Mark S. was one of my closest friends. He had an oversized heart, and he knew from a young age that his life might be shorter than most. Even with that knowledge, he lived with a lightness that I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.

It’s been hard to process all the losses. Some from long ago. Some from COVID. Some from circumstances I still don’t completely understand.

Grief has a way of stacking quietly over the years until one day you realize you’ve been living in a cave without knowing how you got there.

Today, I can say something I couldn’t say for a long time:

I’m coming out of the cave.

I’m thankful for the professional help I’m receiving. I’m thankful for the friends and family who stayed close, even when I wasn’t. I’m thankful that healing doesn’t require perfection — just willingness.

Yes, the world is changing.

Yes, I’m learning how to cope with it.

Yes, I have a long road ahead.

But today, I feel like I’m standing in the sunlight again.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

If you’re in a cave right now, please hear me: you are not weak for needing help. You are human. And there is a way back to yourself, one small step at a time.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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Captain’s Addendum

Bones: “You know, Spock, humans have a strange habit of thinking they’re supposed to fix themselves alone.”

Spock: “Indeed, Doctor. Yet the data consistently shows they heal more effectively in the presence of others.”

I’ve learned that strength isn’t found in isolation. It’s found in the courage to let someone walk with you for a while.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for being part of my life.

May you live long and prosper.

Turning My Slush Fund into Miracles at Children's Hospital

Stardate 05.02.2026

My wife and I each keep a small “slush fund.”

Nothing fancy. Nothing official.

Just a little side pocket where tips, affiliate links, dog watching, and other odds and ends find a home. It’s not connected to our regular jobs. It’s our fun money. The kind you don’t feel guilty spending because it came from extra effort and small opportunities.

Over time, my personal slush fund quietly grew.

Not because I was trying to stockpile it. I simply wasn’t paying much attention to it.

Until now.

This week, I emptied the piggy bank.

Every dollar is going toward ordering author copies of all my books through Amazon. Authors get a generous break when ordering copies directly, though the tradeoff is the long wait for delivery. So I’m doing my best to think ahead — ordering early, planning carefully — so that when the books arrive, the proceeds can be maximized for the patients at our local children’s hospital.

It struck me how something that started as “fun money” quietly turned into “miracle money.”

Money that once might have gone toward gadgets, hobbies, or spontaneous purchases is now headed toward hospital rooms, coloring pages, and encouragement for children walking through hard days.

That shift didn’t feel like sacrifice.

It felt like alignment.

“Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” — 2 Corinthians 9:7

Years ago, my wife and I were deeply influenced by Dave Ramsey and his encouragement to “live like no one else so later you can live like no one else.” That teaching helped us build discipline, structure, and intentionality with money.

I didn’t learn about slush funds from him. That was a little creative twist I added so we could preserve the integrity of the baby steps while still allowing room for fun and flexibility.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that this little system would one day become a pipeline for generosity.

A quiet reservoir waiting for a meaningful purpose.

If you don’t have your own version of a slush fund, you might consider it. Not as a budgeting tool. Not as a financial strategy.

But as a place where small blessings can collect until the right moment comes along to turn them into something bigger than you expected.

Today, mine is becoming miracles for children I may never meet.

And that feels like the best use of “fun money” I can imagine.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Captain, it appears you have converted discretionary currency into humanitarian resources.”

Bones smirked. “Spock, sometimes the best medicine doesn’t come from a pharmacy.”

I’m learning that what seems small, saved quietly over time, can become something deeply meaningful when the moment is right.

May you live long and prosper.

Grateful for the chance to turn little things into big hope.

Irish Triplets Support Caveman Miracle Network

Stardate 05.01.2026

Today begins the first major fundraiser powered by the friends and family who make up the Caveman Miracle Network.

With the third book now published and available, the real work quietly shifts into motion. The writing, the editing, the late nights at the keyboard — those were important. But this is where the purpose steps forward. I’m dedicating the entire month of May to raising funds and awareness for the patients at our local children’s hospitals — the ones who need encouragement, distraction, hope, and love in the middle of hard days.

My boss at my day job generously gave me permission to set up a table in the break room. A simple table. A small space. But I’ve learned that small spaces often become sacred ground when the mission is clear.

Yesterday, my first personal order of 100 coloring books arrived on the doorstep. Holding that box felt different than any shipment before it. These weren’t just books. They were tools. They were invitations. They were quiet messengers of joy waiting to travel into hospital rooms.

Ten of those books were already spoken for.

They were requested by the family of our hometown’s newest professional football player, Kaden Wetjen, who you’ll see featured on the front cover. He was selected in the draft on Sunday, and as far as I know, he may be the first NFL athlete ever featured in a coloring book created specifically for children in hospitals.

That detail made me smile.

Not because of fame. Not because of sports.

But because of what it represents: a hometown kid, a family that cares, and a simple book finding its way into the hands of children who could use a bright moment.

If you feel led to help, you can order a copy of Where in the World is Wilson? through Amazon. If you’d like to bundle books together for donation, talk to me. There are always ways to make generosity travel further.

This coloring book is the third book born on St. Patrick’s Day, just like Live Long and Prosper and The Adventures of Castaway Wilson. I’ve started calling them the Irish triplets.

Three books. One birthday. One purpose.

To raise funds for Children's Miracle Network Hospitals and bring a little light into places that can feel very heavy.

The Caveman Miracle Network — my friends and family — have been walking beside me in this mission since late 2009. Some of them have watched this idea grow from a quiet thought into something that now shows up as boxes on doorsteps and tables in break rooms.

And I’m reminded again that meaningful work rarely starts with grand stages. It starts with willing hearts, simple tables, and people who say, “How can I help?”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”— Galatians 6:9

This month is not about selling books.
It’s about placing hope into hands.
One coloring page at a time.

Join me here:
https://substack.com/@michaelmulliganlivelong

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🖖 Captain’s Addendum

Spock tilted his head slightly. “Captain, it appears your mission involves distributing illustrated paper to young humans in medical facilities.”

Bones crossed his arms. “Spock, sometimes the smallest things do the most healing.”

I’ve learned that too. What looks like a simple coloring book on the outside can carry encouragement, distraction, and comfort on the inside. And sometimes, that’s exactly what’s needed.

May you live long and prosper.

With gratitude for every hand that helps carry this mission forward.