The freewrite topic:

"I used to believe..."

Here's the front room...I am just over the moon about that glass!

Turn left to face north, and you'll see these curtains covering a floor-to-ceiling window.  The light in this place is divine.

Do an about face to the south, and you'll enjoy a view of the mantel.
We are toying with placing the TV in the fireplace, but for now...it's just a jumbly mess.


Little Miss Octavia is settling in more quickly than expected...though she is an now a hybrid outdoor/indoor kitty, we'll keep her inside for a week and then she can start to explore outside.  She's been rather frisky because she usually exerts quite a bit of energy outside...but she's literally a caged cat. Well, not literally.  But kind of.


A lovely kitchen scape, one to replace my favorite part of the trailer.


And the other kitchen windows.
I guess they'll do.
[smirk]


The view of the light cascading onto the bed (and unpacked shiz)
from my bedroom.  It has another (two) window(s).
[double smirk]


Here's an example of what happens when a girl packs way too late at night...after working 8 hours...when that girl is unaccustomed to the energy necessary to work again.  She forgets how to spell some of her favorite things, and then proceeds to use proper proofreading symbols to correct it.  On the box.
Sidenote: Don't you think jewels and letters make such a dreamy combination?

Well, this week I am only working a few days...so I'll be unpacking, sitting in this cafe until our internet gets installed, and soaking up the last week of leisure before it's back to work full time next week.

I'll be keeping you posted on the house and the state of my soul as I attempt to put into practice all my self-care tools without the free time to spare.  I think it's entirely possible, but I admit that I am daily swimming in a pool of fear...

And it may be all the surprising and shocking transitions of 2010
(learning that anything can happen at a moment's notice)
but I feel as if I am standing over a trap door, gasping for one more breath with every inhale,
as if it will be my last chance before I plunge into an abyss
and the floor falls out under me.
It's a dread...something making me feel like another transition (good or bad) is just around the corner.
That good news will be reneged.
That bad news will reoccur.

I am grabbing blindly for anything to hold that won't come crashing down with me.
Call it paranoia, call it portent,
or call it self-fulfilling prophesy,
I am just noticing a continual need to remind myself to
breath, stare at light, and get plenty of rest.
Plus,
Milk Duds.

The end.

There is nothing like quite like riding the rollercoaster of life...your own life...with its sinewy turns and twisty, windy bits. 

Have you ever been to Mendocino County, California?  Well, there is this RIDICULOUSLY windy road that separates I-5 from Mendocino.  Though totally worth the trip, I do not remember ever having been more sick to my stomach from those curves.  Well, 2010 in the life of CRM has felt exactly like that drive.  I cannot seem to hold on tight enough, and just when I adjust to the centripetal force slamming me into my other passengers, another one comes along to throw my stomach in the opposite direction.   Some of these turns are deceptively easy, others quite surprisingly exhilarating.  But all of them are giving my rather precarious stomach a big case of the butterflys.

Therefore.  I must breath deeply, often.  I must concentrate on shutting off my mind to sleep.  I must look at very simple things.  The way a red onion, white garlic, and verdant jalapeño speak to me from their white-canvas of a cutting board....meditating on the steady beat of the September rain...nuzzling into the sweetest smelling skin for a long snuggle.

Simplify.

Simplify.

Simplify.

Perhaps it will be like doing the tree pose in yoga.  If I can fixate on a spot on the floor, I can find my balance.

I have been disappointed all day.  The saint and I are feeling the crunch of time as it threatens to smoooosh us.  We have to move by October 1, but as yet, we have not solidified a residence for ourselves.  On Sunday, he and I went into Seattle and found the most perfect home.  Location was stellar, the place was gorgeous and spacious, the backyard brimming with tomatoes, and the aesthetic was just completely suited to our taste.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to it fast enough.  If we had only arrived 1 hour earlier, we would currently be toasting to our fortuitous find.

But I've learned something about how I grieve...how it's changed in the last few years (along with everything else in my head).  Before, I would have completely guarded myself with cynicism towards "getting my hopes up."  I think the general idea behind this theory is that if you don't want it too much, then when it doesn't work out, the disappointment is less.  Only it never worked.  I was always disappointed whether or not I pinned my hopes on the outcome.

So these last few years, I've decided to hope.  Hope against all ration and reason (withing reality, of course.  I am still ME after all...analytical, rational etc)...hope despite the hidden pain it might bring to do so.  

Am I so very disappointed today because I hoped so much?  I don't think so.  I am so very sad because I didn't get what I wanted.  I will grieve it (banana splits help.  limoncello cocktails help.)  I will allow myself to be very blue; I will refuse to kick myself in the backside for hoping too much.  What's so great about guarding oneself from disappointment anyway?  It can, like every other emotion (shadowy or brilliant) bring incredible depth of soul, richness of thought, awareness of self.

[friday]

Lordy, lordy.  This weekend was hell...three drink minimum days.   In my lens, it seemed increasingly important to capture the small moments where we sip reality slowly, gulp passion widly, and drink deeply of confidence. 

Written words sustain me.

Thank you for your continued affirmation of what we're doing here...

Sipping Slowly.

one

step

forward

two million

beats

around the

bush

scribbles and scratches and records of validation.

write.

write, my sweet sister.

but there is good.

good in the misty fog.

good in the sunshine.

good in the sweetest of baby girls.

good in the mid-century modern

and good in strawberries.

and when there are so many things to miss,

and so many new reasons to be angry,

and so many questions,

and so many unconscionable answers,

and so many voices to filter,

and so many reflections to combat,

and so many points of order to attend to,
and so much future to be afraid of,
and so much past to be rehashed,

and so many bottles to wash.

and so little sleep to be had.

this goodness reminds three lovely ladies that

always,

there is

new growth.

and there will be new

things to miss,

questions to pose,

reflections to love,

answers to be found,

american spirits to be ignited,

sleep to be slept,

 and voices to love.

On the back-porch of our eternity,
in the bottom of our bottles,
in the packs of smokes...
we shall recover. I just know it.

From this fire, she emerges so kind, so calm, so soft, so empowered.

And she even let me borrow her shirt.

Full well knowing I ruin all her clothes.

You, my big sister,

you are still one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen...

Since first I began to see.

And saw you looking down at me with those big, kind eyes.

May our minds be kind to us.

~crm