friday again

Only this one is different in some ways because I am officially on vacation. Tomorrow morning we leave for Myrtle Beach...and as luck would have it, I'm mostly packed, which means a little last minute shopping is in order. At least that's the plan.

I intend to do some real exploring of downtown Sioux Falls. Though I've visited a couple of the boutiques down there, I have yet to do serious shopping. And it's a little scary. It's the kind of town that could get a girl in serious shopping trouble. As far as I can tell, there are two main streets lined with tiny shops that carry art, jewelry, cute clothes...you know the type. And they're quite a bit different than "the Mall" (which I've only visited once - I'm not the "mall" type). I'm sure I'll find a place to stop and have a cup of coffee, as there are tables and chairs along the sidewalks. I may get distracted by the sculptures that stand at all the corners.

My only regret is that one of my sisters or a friend isn't here to shop with me. Ann and I for instance...we shop great together. She always knows what I should buy, and I always know what she should buy. We're great at pushing each other over the edge when either of us is indecisive. And that's what a shopping buddy should do. But only if it's the right thing at the right price, or at least one we can live with. I do miss my favorite little shop in Kingwood - the one with the paintings of the elegant monkeys - the one where I bought the dragonfly bracelet when I needed it most. I will have to visit when I'm back in Houston.

I may even put on makeup today, and wear good shoes. Since I was on deadline all week, I haven't been too worried about my appearance. Haven't done much with my hair and my nails need some work.

And tomorrow afternoon, I will be on the beach or at least close enough to catch the scent of the sea. And I will be surrounded by many of the people that I love. I will laugh with Emma, and talk to her about her new kitty Martin (with the emphasis on the last syllable). And I will hug my dad and mother. I will have a whole week to play with my sisters. And I will relax.

Steve says he's a little nervous, which explains why he's leaving on Tuesday. I guess I don't blame him...it's better to get to know my family in small portions, I think. But I am not nervous at all for him to get to know them. He is kind, gentle and has a loving spirit. It will be a perfect week, and I will revel in it. And I hope he will love them, as I do. And that he will laugh and be himself and be comfortable after awhile. And I hope that when next summer comes, he will say, "when are we going to the beach?"

It will be awhile before I'm here again, in front of this screen. And I will make memories in the meantime. With sand between my toes I will be revitalizing my spirit, renewing my creative energy, and refreshing my soul.

waking up wrong

Yesterday was one of those days when you wake up and the world is just wrong. On days like yesterday the bed doesn't get made and nothing in the refrigerator satisfies. There was lots to do on my calendar and my desk was cluttered and disorganized. I felt like doing nothing but reading under a blanket on the sofa. My S.O. would be working late into the evening, so I had the entire day to be a slug. I felt as if any moment, tears could fall, and couldn't figure out why.

My blues were punctuated by the fact that I had to pick up Bailey's ashes at the vet. I put it off all day long, thinking that later was better. And I thought a lot about what I would do with him when I got him home. I was sure he would stay with me for awhile, on top of my dresser or on the entertainment center, but sooner or later (probably later) I think I should release him into nature. I'm thinking that Texas was his home, and perhaps it would be best to take him there, but then the other side of my brain says that anywhere with me was his home, and he should stay with me. And so the dilemma remains.

When I finally picked him up, it was the collar that triggered the meltdown, but it passed as I drove through Sioux Falls with the sunroof open and a call from Lynnette, who soothed my soul and let me talk about it

I also had a surprise visitor in the afternoon. I think she came to remind me that my "blues", though valid, were a drop in the bucket compared to her life. She is a friend of Steve's, and she was having a meltdown of her own and felt as if our house was a safe place to be. And so she came and unburdened herself a bit. What I've learned is not to give answers, but to ask the right questions, as my answers aren't always the best answer for everyone. So I listened, and asked, hoping that she could come up with her own answers. In her case, all the answers have serious ramifications, but I tried to remind her that to everything there is a reason and a purpose. Not sure she bought it. And I asked myself what her visit meant for me. This I'm still contemplating.

Today will be better, I tell myself, despite the fact that the weather looks dire and a gray mist falls outside. One bite at a time, I tell myself, that's how you eat the elephant. And so I will organize the office, pay bills, work on the magazine, do some writing, pack a bag, eat something, and let today be better. And it will all make sense. Bailey is here, only is spirit to cuddle with me, and make me feel better. But Buddy is quite willing to step in and comfort me when the blues show up.

Steve will be fishing much of the weekend, and I will do something else. Perhaps I will go to the lake and hang out with his mother, or perhaps I will stay here. I haven't decided. I'm almost afraid to stay here, as gray can turn to black quite unexpectedly when you're alone.

And Saturday, the sun will shine...or so says the Weather Channel. A good book and a lawn chair by the lake may help.

Looking back on yesterday, and taking into account the fact that I had to revisit Bailey's passing, I cannot figure out why I was blue. I wonder why some days just feel wrong. Do we need these days to help us experience days that are right? Is it the soul asking for a bit of rest? Is it the human spirit longing for attention? Or is it a call to find some good in the chaos? Most likely it's hormones, and it will pass.

relief

The last week has had me revisiting my past in my head, and frankly...I don't want to go there - not physically, mentally, or emotionally. I much prefer my present. My new life is much more fun.

I had to compile loads of copies of bank statements, etc. for the divorce attorney. It was no fun and made me resentful. If I think of the whole process as a business transaction, I have an easier time of it. But when I begin to take it personally, I get mad. The bottom line is this: I did my time and deserve to be released free and clear, with a little spending money and new outlook. And so when I dropped the overnight package in the mail yesterday, the weight was lifted...one more step toward closing the gate behind me.

I can't believe that it's been 15 months since I left the house on Castle Hill and embarked on this new journey. At the time, I had no clue where I would end up...and I certainly didn't think it would be South Dakota. And now I am here in the SLRH loving life again.

I try to think of the happy memories of the past, like the day we got Bailey, and the day we drove to Brenham to pick up Bo. Christmas was always very special, and birthday dinners out. I remember the vacation to Big Bend fondly, and traveling to Spain and Singapore. We all loved watching movies and eating homemade pizza on Friday nights. I suppose there were times that were worth remembering, but more than anything, I remember the huge sense that the weight of the relationship was too heavy for me to bear. I remember the yelling and the way I waited everyday for the other shoe to drop - for something to set Ray's temper flaring. And I remember the tears. Alone in my office, or in bed at night, I would feel them slip down my cheek, knowing that I couldn't do it forever, but afraid somehow to change things.

Don't know where the courage came from, but one day it came...strong and sure. And I knew it was the best right thing to do. And I was right. Things in my life seem in order now, though my surroundings, the SLRH and the life I've made is much more chaotic. Ironic I suppose.

I spent yesterday afternoon trying to organize some of the chaos, but found myself daydreaming instead, and shopping for windchimes and imported baskets. And this made me happy. Once I realized that I should release control to the Universe, things began to fall into place. And I trust that my life will continue in this way as long as I trust and believe that life is bliss.

I am relieved today, knowing that I can put the past in a big box, wrap it up and shove it in the closet with pictures from vacations and mementos. It will be there for me, should I want to revisit it, but for now, I'll make new memories.

distracted

Okay, so I've been distracted for three months. The only writing I've done is what is necessary and this blog. And I can say the same for the meditating and chakra work. I haven't been reading, or studying, or trying to improve my mental health or physical fitness. I have not eaten right nor have I exercised. And I haven't quit smoking.

And do you blame me? Put a 44 year old woman in new town, with a new life, and a new (and unbelievably adorable and energetic) man, and her life changes. Surprise? no. In the words of Cyndi Lauper..."girls just want to have fun."

Are my priorities out of alignment? Perhaps. Or maybe, for the first time in years, they're exactly as they should be.

I've spent years trying to be perfect...and frankly, I'm damn tired of it. I can no longer keep up the pace. Instead, I think I'll be me - in all my imperfect glory. I will not do the dishes immediately after eating. I will not drink eight glasses of water a day. I will not have dinner on the table every night at six. I will not balance my check book to the penny. I will not answer the phone every time it rings and I will be more diligent about saying "no, because I don't feel like it."

For example...yesterday, I woke up and after my first cup of coffee, which I enjoyed in good company, I went out into my yard and cut peonies for the house. I sat at the table outside, drank a second cup of coffee, and enjoyed the morning. I did not make a list of things to do. I did not write in my journal, and I did not let my mind race. I watched the birds come and go. Usually impatient, I was surprisingly able to do mostly nothing for at least an hour. I brought the flowers in the house, found a vase, and made a huge bouquet, which fills the living room with the light fragrance of the outdoors. I decided to wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on some clothes - comfortable, mind you. I checked the computer for important e-mail (there was nothing pressing), so I played computer games for awhile.

Okay, I admit, I was feeling like a slug. So I made a list, a few phone calls, and actually had a somewhat productive day despite the slow start.

In the end, I did manage a shower late in the evening, listened to Wayne Dyer on PBS talk about inspiration, and even managed to squeeze in a short meditation. So I guess, all in all, I didn't do so badly. And so I'm left believing that life is to be enjoyed = everyday. With this in mind, I will go pour myself another cup of coffee, smell the peonies, and sit on the front porch for awhile, watching the world go by - enjoying the little distractions that make up my new life.

sunday morning

Alone this morning, enjoying a cup of coffee with Buddy, the pup. And I'm okay.

Recent events have left me realizing just how quickly life can change. In the last 3 months my entire life has changed direction in many ways. I find myself not only in a different place, but in a completely different space. Where there was pain, there is joy. Where there was loneliness, there is companionship. Where there was void, there is fullness. And time passes quickly. One day becomes another, and soon a week has passed.

I have become a part of a new family. At first this was pretty weird to me. It had been years since cousins and uncles and aunts had truly been a part of my life. In Houston, there was Ray and the kids, and Ann in Austin. But other than that, I was without relatives. My friends stepped up, as I did for many of them, and we relied on each other as a family might. Here in South Dakota, I have found a new family. They have embraced not only my relationship with Steve, but me, as just me. I realize now, that this connectedness was missing from my life for years. And it feels good. They cook out together, help each other move, celebrate reunions and birthdays and anniversaries together. They call to see if I'm okay, bring flowers when your pet passes, and call to invite you swimming. They stop by.

Other things have changed, too. I seldom read a book, or page through magazines. I don't eat Chinese food very often, nor do I sit at Starbucks with my laptop. I started cooking again, a little. And buy more groceries. I have more laundry and a yard. I have a bird feeder and two rose bushes and live with cats.

The rhythm of my life has changed. I get up a little later, and go to bed a little earlier. I enjoy the outside more, visit beautiful places, and ride in the country, where there is peace. The traffic is light - always, and people I don't know wave at me from the driver's seat when they pass me on the road.

I've met interesting people like Arlene and Virgil, who have changed the lives of others, and left their mark on the world forever.

And in a strange way, I fit here. It's as if all my life I've been waiting to find this place, this space, and this time. And there is no searching, only contentedness and comfort. Bailey taught me, that to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose...thank you dear friend, though our time has passed, a new season has been offered to me. And I will jump in with both feet, and enjoy the grass between my toes.

releasing

Each day when I wake up, I look down by the side of my bed and realize that my Bailey is no longer here. This seems unreal to me, as he has been by my side for so long. He was the one to greet me and say good morning, many days before the sun rose. Because of Bailey, I will never be the person I was before he came into my life. For this I am thankful. He taught me lessons so many days. Taught me to keep going when things seem unbearable. Taught me that a little attention goes a long way. Taught me that sometimes, barking is good. He taught me the value of naps, of running around the yard a bit, and that the sun is worth enjoying.

Yesterday he taught me a new lesson - that life goes on, despite grief and despite pain. He also taught me that it's okay to let go of some things when the time is right.

I got a call from my friend, Lynnette. Through her ability to see the other side, she was able to connect with my dear friend, who was running through a meadow and chasing butterflies. (I'm sure he was so excited to be able to run again - it had been so long.) But she told me that a piece of my soul had gone with him. This should come as no surprise to those who have seen Bailey and me together. We were deeply connected energetically. Thing is...I need this piece of my soul. She recommended a meditation and that I release Bailey, and call back the piece of me that went with him. So I walked to the park, knowing that she was right. Not long after I sat under a tree in the grass and closed my eyes, trying to find Bailey, I felt his sweet head resting on my lap. He looked up at me with his soulful eyes, again, helping me to find comfort. This time it was easy for him, as his pain was gone. I told him it was okay to go, and that I was going to stay behind. I could see that he would be fine now. He didn't need me dragging on his neck into his next adventure. He was strong, the fur around his eyes not longer gray, but miraculously glossy black, as it was years ago. And at my urging, and with a final hug and caress or two, he got up and ran across the grass, slowly at first, as if a bit reluctant to leave me. But then I told him it was okay. I'm fine now, and happy. So he trotted off. At the top of the hill, he looked back at me, tail wagging, a big smile on his beautiful face. And then he was gone.

Though I said goodbye on Tuesday, yesterday I was able to release his gentle spirit back into the universe. There is peace in that. Perhaps now we can both move forward, leave the past behind, keeping only the happy memories only we shared.

Kindred spirits? Yes. I will see you again old friend, and we will laugh and play when I get to the other side. I am thankful for all the gifts you gave and the lessons you taught, and I will remember you always. I will feel you in the wind, and remember your warmth as I stand with my face to the sun.

saying goodbye

How do you say goodbye to an old friend? The tears continue to fall as I think about the hole in my life where my dog used to be. There are no words to express my sadness. It's something that only someone who has lost their closest companion can know. Bailey came into my life when he was 10 weeks old. All paws, gangly and awkward. I knew he was supposed to be mine when I met him. The spot around his eye caught mine, and we both knew he belonged with me.

Over the last twelve years he has been by my side. When times were good, we ran in the yard together. He chased squirrels, caught a rabbit for Megan, and woke me every morning with a wet nose. His favorite place was next to me. When I worked, he would lie under my desk, keeping my feet warm when they were cold. He loved to hop in the back seat of the bug for a ride, and even shared my Starbucks latte when I wasn't looking. He was a great listener, allowing me to read stories I'd written out loud, whether they were good or bad.

When times were bad, he was my comfort, my happy place, my confidante and my best friend. Through my struggles and challenges, he was next to me, letting me know that as long as we were together, everything would be okay.

I'm sure that it was hard for him when we moved to South Dakota. He didn't much like the snow in March, but he allowed me to put boots on his feet so we could walk together to the park. And it took awhile for him to get used to the new rent house, but he did okay after a few weeks, as long as his bed was next to mine.

Over the last month or so, he started to have a tougher time of things. And I knew he was ready to move on. He knew that I was safe and happy. And that he didn't have to protect me anymore. His job was done. And so he waited for me to get home on Monday night from a couple of days out of town. And when I got home, he let me know he was ready, and that I would be okay now.

I lay with him for an hour or so, curled up behind him, and reassured him that he was right. I was okay now. He could go. And my heart was breaking and it didn't feel okay, but I knew he was so tired, and that our time together had been a priceless but temporary gift. I thanked him for the joy and the protection and the comfort, and he thanked me back with a tail wag. He looked in my eyes with the look only he had, and laid his head against me as if to say, it will be okay.

When the time came, I felt him let go of his life peacefully. With his head on my lap, like so many other days, I petted his head, his face, his nose, and ran my hand against his tummy.

I will miss you old friend. No one will ever take your place. And I know that somewhere in the universe you are running again, your legs strong, and a smile on your face. I will reach for you in the quiet times, and your spirit will join me - as it always has. There is no separating your soul from mine. You will be with me always.

purpose

My computer died on Wednesday. My deadline was Thursday. I was surprised at my lack of concern. I was close to being finished. All the pages of the magazine were done, except for one. The ads were late, and I was waiting, as I always do, for that last client to say "go." And so I turned off the computer, unable to finish the book. And I figured it was all with purpose. May be I'm supposed to tell Richard that I get tired of waiting until the last minute for ads, and that if he was on time, the magazine would have made it on time. Or maybe I was supposed to give myself a day off. Or maybe Dave the "PC Heavyweight" needed some work.

Whatever the reason. I didn't stress out, but waited, knowing that it would get fixed somehow.

I'm not one to play the "it's God's will" card, nor do I believe "shit happens," which leaves me with the omnipresent question, "what's the purpose in this?" The only problem is that I seldom know the answer. And I'm reminded that I don't always need to know the answer. If I follow my instincts and intuition, the resolution always presents itself. And if I let the universe do its job, instead of trying so hard to control the situation, all turns out as it should be.

And so my computer runs, Dave made some money, I had most of the day off, got the car washed, and the magazine is late - but finished. I also bought a great new bag for my books, pens and notebooks - the perfect bag to replace the old writing bag, which I trashed before I left Houston. And life remains good - the earth didn't stand still. And it's all with purpose.

watching

Steve broke his watch this week, and feels naked without it. He thinks it's funny that I don't wear one, and rarely care what time it is. I suppose this is one of the benefits of working for myself. I work when work feels right, and play when play feels right. I can go to bed when I'm tired and eat when I'm hungry.

My world isn't totally without schedules, but they are definitely less constricting than those claimed by most people I know. And I'm happy for it. My deadline is this week, which means it is one of those weeks when I feel like the regular people. I have lots to do before Thursday. I'm convinced that wearing a watch would simply stress me out. I work at my own pace, finishing one thing after another, regardless of the time. And somehow it all gets done - watch or no watch. Let me mention here that a watch can make a great fashion statement. I do own a few that I think perfectly compliment my wardrobe. And even when I do slip one on my wrist with a couple of silver bracelets, it's more for the fashion than the time keeping. I look at it only to be sure that I haven't lost it, and that it hasn't slipped under my cuff.

I think it's interesting that we call the machines that keep time "watches" as if it was our job to look at them regularly, being sure that we are keeping up the required pace. It's no wonder that people speed to work and get road rage - it is their job to "watch." And somehow we believe watching will let us control time. I prefer to think that there is no such thing as time. That one moment just follows another. The fact that we measure it so relentlessly has no bearing on its coming and going. It simply is.

I recommend not wearing a watch - for a day, for a week, for a month. If you're like me, your body will find its own special rhythm, knowing when to sleep and when to wake. The afternoon sun will beckon you outside when you need to take a break, and your stomach will tell you when to eat. Someone will ask you what time it is, and your answer will be within 15-30 minutes of whatever the clock says. Surprising, no? No. Keeping time is just one of the things your body does naturally - if you let it.

I guess this talent or time keeping is like any skill that goes unused - it doesn't develop. But if you tap in and rely on it, you'll find it quite useful, and less stressful than "watching."

backyard zen

I regularly refer to my new residence as my shitty little rent house (SLRH), but the truth is, I do like it, despite the threadbare carpet and the ugly wallpaper in the kitchen. I guess that it, like me, needed a little tlc, which I give whenever possible.

The yard here (SLY) was also pretty neglected, with weeds growing everywhere, bare dirt where grass should be, and flower beds that were just waiting for a plant or two to take root. And so that has been the project of the week. Last night we made great strides, working the soil, planting hyacinth and daylily bulbs, and feeding the peonies. Steve planted two red rose bushes in whiskey barrels - one for next to the front door, and one for the backyard. And we're not finished yet. We will plant wildflowers along the back fence, and fill in the bare spaces in the yard, put wind chimes in the trees, and convert an old cigar ashtray into a bird feeder.

Seems like lots of work for a SLY, no? Maybe it is, but my way of thinking is that the space that surrounds you should be a reflection of who you are. I want to be able to open the door, walk outside and find a place that inspires me, attracts the wild things, and leads me to serenity. Steve says it seems a little crazy to put so much time and energy into this place, when we probably won't be here that long...but I say, you should always leave a space, knowing that it is better for your being there. Perhaps after we move away from the SLRH, someone will walk in the backyard and say it's beautiful, and notice how the birds and butterflies love it here. And I will smile and know that this space is better because I walked on the grass and nurtured the growing things.

Found a yard gnome in front of a friends house. She doesn't love him, or have any intention of keeping him and is willing to give him up. He's seem lots of winters, and will need a little cleaning up, but I'm sure he'll love his new space in the SLY, reclining next to the peonies.

transplants

Talked to my daughter yesterday. We talked about Texas, and how it will always be a part of who I am. The first month that I was here, she sent me a few seed packets filled with bluebonnets and wildflower mix. With the coming of spring I knew I would miss these pieces of Texas. I smiled when they came in the mail, and wondered if they would survive here - and if I would be able to make this new place my home.

I waited until the weather turned to plant them, as spring here is a few months behind Texas. After a few sunny, warm days last week, I decided it was time to drop them in clay pots and wait. And so I planted them and waited. One week later, sprouts appeared, and this morning, I noticed that they are thriving. And I'm taking it as an affirmation - a sign that even I can grow and thrive in this climate, despite the fact that Texas is so much a part of who I am.

I'm sure that much of that has to do with the emotional environment in which I have planted myself, and the nurturing gentle way of the "gardener" who shares my house.

Yesterday afternoon was not good. I received a packet from my lawyer reminding me that I have to deal with stuff back in Texas - my unfinished business. This I have avoided at all costs, preferring instead to be like the wildflower seeds, warm and safe in the packet, away from the elements that might harm them.

But like the wildflowers, I know that I can only thrive and grow when I allow myself to be exposed to the conditions outside. And so I will face the emotional storm that brews outside the safety of my little rent house in South Dakota. When the conditions are really stormy, I will remember the warmth of the sun, and the gardener who offers cover when things get tough. And I will remember that the thunder and lightening cannot hurt me. That I have taken root, and I am safe. I will thrive and grow, like the bluebonnets. And I will remember Texas fondly as I sway, smile, and lift my face to the South Dakota sun.

another friday

I've been trying to think about what I will write for my column this month and have come up empty. The well may have run dry. I can do the standard June Father's Day thing, but don't really feel much like writing that again. And so I'm stuck.

My writing in general seems to be stuck. I'm not sure what that's about, except maybe I'm not following the rules set by Natalie Goldberg who says....

Come to the page
It's okay to write junk
Keep your hand moving
etc., etc., etc.,

It's been so long since I've written something of substance that I don't even remember all "the rules." But since I continue to break the first one, I suppose the rest don't really matter right now.

I really thought my coming here would open up some new creative channels for me. But so far, this hasn't happened. You'd think that since I'm happier than I've been in, well, forever, that it would come much easier. Instead, I'm beginning to believe that one writes better from pain. Natalie wouldn't be pleased. She'd call it an excuse. Maybe she's right. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't get to my gut and let things spill out. It may be because I'm putting so much energy into my real life, and have stopped living on paper.

I do have to say that I am proud of myself when I think about it. I was talking to a friend of my S.O. the other day and she said she could never just up and leave home - move her whole life. And I think that I am brave - that this is true for many people. And I feel fearless - which is a little scary. And I wonder just where I'd be if I'd stayed back in Houston. The truth is, it really wasn't much of a stretch for me. I so believed that it was the right thing to do that I wasn't at all afraid. I was a little overwhelmed at the thought, and the packing and the changing every detail of my life. It was a big job. But then I remember the saying...How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time...and I know that's kind of how it was - and how it continues to be.

Each day I think of something I didn't bring along, or something that I didn't do, and wish I had planned a little better. But other than that, I guess it's just time to start over. I will do things differently. I will remember that the stuff doesn't matter. In fact, it can get a bit cumbersome. There are no "shoulds", only choices to make. And waking up in Sioux Falls isn't much different than waking up anywhere else, except that I need an extra sweater.

Maybe after I take the dog to the vet, I will take my laptop to Black Sheep Coffee and try some writing practice. This would be a start, (Natalie nods.) And then a creative spark might ignite.

The question is, why was it so easy to change my entire life with one trip in the U-Haul, when it's so difficult to "come to the page?"

new words

All caught up and no place to go. That's today's story. I have lots of time on my hands, and not so much to do with it. I should sit by the computer, waiting for ads to come in, but my feet are dying to dance in the grass. The sun seems to be cooperating, at least for the time being.

Looks like another weekend out of town for us, providing my SO (significant other) feels a little better - he's a bit under the weather.

I've met so many people over the last few months that I get a little confused about who goes with whom. The family is very big and spread out over lots of rural country. It feels more comfortable than I expected. I suppose because I come from such a large family. But the years I spent in Houston were relatively extended-family-free. There was me, my husband and kids, and my sister, Ann. Other than that, family functions called for a long plane ride. And they occurred only sporadically. And so this is new and old. Birthday parties, family reunions, graduations...they seem to be constant. Gas prices being what they are, this gets "spendy."

"Spendy" is a new word that has been added to my vocabulary. It is frequently used by South Dakotans (is that right?) when referring to things that are priced on the high side. The frequently used word that I find quaint is "supper." I do remember it from a past life in Ohio, but it was virtually erased from my mind until I was invited out to "supper" by my SO. My daughter laughs every time she hears it, and I haven't found myself able to say it yet without putting unnecessary emphasis on the word. Perhaps one day...

In the meantime, I am told that I have an "accent." I am not one to drawl...never have been. But up here, they seem to think I do. I suppose an occasional y'all does slip out. But other than that, I consider myself completely accent-less. I was shocked when I spoke to a woman on the phone about trash collection and she pegged me as a Southeast Texas girl.

Will this, like my old life, fade away? Some mornings I get up and don't much think about my life before I came here. While I'm sure that where I've been has helped me to become who I am, I choose not to think of the sadness of the past. It's hard to pick up the phone and deal with any of the life stuff that remains unresolved. And yet I know it must be done eventually. I wish there was a sort of magic in the world that might fix it all while I sleep, tie up the loose ends and leave a pretty pink bow for me to find when I open my eyes.

I will be forced to tie my own bow, but I'm not going to think about that now. I'm going to tie my shoe laces instead, and tromp about Sioux Falls. Perhaps I'll learn a few more new words.

monday morning

Sunday night we had ice cream for dinner. I know this seems wrong, in light of the recent "healthy living" commitment, but some days, a girl's just got to be flexible. After sleeping in later than normal, we hit the ground running, and finished many chores on the infamous list. When 5 o'clock came, we were dog tired and I was still wet from a confrontation with the pressure washer.

And so I had a hot fudge sundae; his was strawberry. It was his suggestion, and I didn't have the inclination to disagree. Nothing made more sense to me after a busy and sunny day.

My old life was not nearly as flexible. And thinking about it makes me think I was crazy, always being sure that everything was always in perfect order and on schedule. It's one memory I'd rather forget, but won't, since it will help me make my new life better than the old. Spontaneity did not exist for me in my old life. In fact, anything out of order created chaos and eventually some sort of explosion. Not fun and not me.

My new life has no real rules, though I remain committed to speaking my truth and upholding my boundaries. Having ice cream for dinner does not fall outside these boundaries, nor does sleeping in on a weekday, feeding the dogs later than usual, or leaving dirty glasses in the sink. The old me would have felt guilty - the new me has no problem with these.

In fact, here in my new life, I have the opportunity to create a life that is filled with spontaneity. The unexpected pleasures of life make me smile, and remind me that nothing - absolutely nothing - is set in stone. In fact, it's much better to live a life that throws you a curve now and then. I do not miss the hard edges - they left me bruised and tending wounds that are still healing. And if eating a hot fudge sundae for dinner doesn't make you smile, well, it's time to rethink life. Mine will be amorphous and suprising and every once in awhile, I'll do the dishes.

lists

For the last four weekends, we've been out of town. So this weekend I'm looking forward to a little time at home. Unfortunately, I'm sure this also means dealing with "the list."

It started as a short one, things I needed to remember to do. Then Steve suggested that we make a list. I provided mine, since it was already started. It was simple: back up computer files, refill Bailey's prescription, get adapter for the air cleaner, manifest abundance. You know, the standard stuff. But with Steve's help, the list became neverending. We added: organize the tools, plant grass, get the lawn mower fixed, buy cat litter and clean Dad's boat. These are not standard in my world. But they are now written down, which makes them, by default, "things to do."

Priorities change when you move out of a one bedroom apartment and into a rent house - I didn't have a lawn, nor did I need a working lawn mower. Priorities change when you become one half of "a couple."

Parts of it are easy - like buying a lawn mower. Parts of it are harder - like planning dinner for two that suits both his appetite for beef and fast food, and my appetite for anything else. Throw his ulcer into the mix and it makes for difficult meal planning. And while I hate that this recent flare up has caused him pain, it is the perfect answer to the fast food dilemma. It is now basically off limits. It has, though, made meal planning and preparation even more difficult. And this morning, I am trying to make yet another list - what to buy at the grocery store. It looks different than previous grocery lists and includes more green vegetables and fruit. Spicy foods and chips are out; lean meats are in. And when I check out, I hope that I have managed to find compromises that will suit both of us.

And so this weekend, between cleaning up the boat, planting grass, and running errands, I will be cooking healthy meals. And while it may be more difficult than stopping at Arby's or Taco Bell, it will satisfy at least this half of this couple. As for the other half, perhaps he can learn to like broiled fish.

tuesday morning

Welcome sunshine. Yesterday was very cloudy and had me feeling much the same. It wasn't until late afternoon that I noticed the first glimmers of brightness breaking through. The temperature began to rise as did my spirits. And so this morning, I was happy to see that the trend continues, which is imperative to my good mood.

Yesterday, when I tried to get cheerier, I went to run some errands, only to find that as hard as I tried to be friendly and nice, no one else was trying. Some days, it feels like everyone in this town is grumpy. Chris says that perhaps its the I'm-so-tired-of-this-weather thing. It brings to mind the way people begin to act in Houston in late September. Lethargic, short-tempered and well, nasty. That would be the southern version of the I'm-so-tired-of-this-weather thing. (Unfortunately, many of them are sitting in hot cars and carry concealed handguns.) Heat or cold, it's all the same.

So I welcome the warmth of the day and am quite prepared to put on my bib overalls, run to the garden center and load up my little orange bug with plants, grass seed and yard art.

And though I usually thumb up my nose at yard art, this year I will have lots of chimes, a bird bath and yes, the notorious yard gnome.

I have always loved those little elfs with wheelbarrows or lounging by a ceramic daisy, but thought them a little too kitschy to put in the yard. Stepford, you know. But now that I am semi-anonymous and don't really care what people think, (see previous posts), I may have a whole slew of them. Kitschy or not, I have an unexplained affinity for them, and have chosen a few choice spots in the yard in which they will proudly stand, sit or recline amid the wild things.

As wild things go...I am somewhat unfamiliar with the flora here. Not sure what is a weed and what has been purposely planted. This poses somewhat of a problem. One thing I do know is that the little purple flowers that have popped up all over the yard and that Steve says grow wild should not ever be mowed down...but I can see no way around it. And the dandelions are running rampant. A dilemma for me, since I know they are a weed, but I love the way they brighten up the world each spring.

Dandelions were the source of one of my favorite meditations. Whenever I felt like the weight of the world was bearing down on me, I would close my eyes and imagine a dandelion turned to seed. Then I would watch myself blow the seeds into the air and as they were carried away to parts unknown, the pressure of my challenges would float away, too. My old friend, Randy used to remind me of this little meditation when I was having a really bad day at work. He would pop in my office, see my stress and say..."dandelions." I miss you, old friend. Hope things are good for you on the other side.

Today will be good. I choose it. And I will find the perfect gnome companions for my soon to be kitschy yard. What will the neighbors say? I don't care. And perhaps it will coax a smile on their tired-of-winter faces.

the end of anonymity

I remember now...how it feels not to be anonymous. A weekend out of town and the only little "cafe" in Wetonka, South Dakota reminded me. I guess it's the fact that the bartender remembers what I drink (and that I drank a lot last time I was there), coupled with the fact that he calls me "Texas", that brought back the realization that perhaps it's time to think before I act, dance, buy shots of tequila and drink too much. I do, afterall, have a significant other and his family to think about.

On the other hand, they don't seem to mind, in fact, have been known to encourage a girl to "keep up with the big dogs." And while I tried...I'm still a pup when it comes to adult beverages. This is a good thing.

And so I am left wondering if I should care at all what people think - anonymous are not. The important question to ask is, "am I being real?" If I can say yes, then what the heck. I have earned the right to be myself, and when I'm in a bar, in Wetonka, South Dakota or any other place in the country, I like to play music loud, dance with the boys, drink a shot of tequila and, well, let my hair down. Very not "melissa-like" according to all the people with whom I have "kept up appearances." Truth is...it's very "melissa-like." The real one that is. And that's okay.

friday morning

I have an entire day before me, and other than listening to a new Sarah Evans CD I bought yesterday, I'm not at all sure what I'm going to do with it. I had planned a day playing in the dirt, planting a few things, cleaning up winter, and running with Buddy while Bailey watches from a comfortable spot in the warm grass, but the weather may not stand for it. It rained lots last night, and today looks gray, so I'm looking for alternatives.

There is some work to do...back up old files, call a new client. Should take all of an hour. I is definitely a day to be inside. I have the nagging feeling that the day calls for me to face the page. This is something I haven't done much of since I moved. It nags at me, but I ignore the voice, saying there is too much on my mind, or that I can't get focused. And all of that is true, but it's because I won't let myself. Hard to get back to that place.

Sometimes I feel as if it's easier to write when I'm not happy. When the emotions of fear and sadness take over. Those feelings are deep and easier to write about...the page becomes a place to let it all out. But the joy...I feel no need to release it. And it is impossible to describe in words. In fact, they seem to get in the way.

Natalie Goldberg would say...just be present on the page...so perhaps I'll pick something to write about like red tennis shoes or hot tea or violets popping up in the grass, and see what happens.

Wondering what my friends are doing. They are scattered about, and I do miss them. And on a day like today, if I were back in Houston, I'm sure one of them might have some time to get a coffee and play for awhile. If I lived in BC, Lion might join me for a hot tea, and if I were in Denver, Mary Ann and I would have an iced tea with a shot of vodka. But I am here, and they are there, so I am left to my own company, and that of a few furry critters.

I suppose it's time to find a life outside the walls of my little rent house, time to expand my circle of acquaintances from Steve, the dogs, his family, and Bud the carpet cleaner to other interesting people who live close by, like coffee, read books, and enjoy conversation. But I'm just not sure how to get there. What I know is that if I don't go out...it won't happen.

So perhaps today, I will visit the library - I know where it is, and I will go to Black Sheep Coffee with a notebook. And maybe I'll find someone else who is doing the same. And maybe I will like him/her. And maybe on the next rainy day, we'll have a cup of tea.

anonymity

Yesterday I began thinking about anonymity and the value of it. After talking to some people about how it seems like everyone here is connected in some way, it occurred to me that I'm not. I remain anonymous...at the grocery store, riding down the street in my car, walking my dog. And there are benefits to that.

When I lived in Doylestown, I was not anonymous - I was KNOWN. From the time I was born I was a part of a family, a community, a church and the notoriety grew. When you are "known" there are always EXPECTATIONS which one must live up to. There are labels with which you are tagged...labels like smart, logical, has a good head on her shoulders, good, bad, pretty, funny, etc. You know the list. I'm sure you have one of your own. And so we strive to squeeze ourselves into one box or another to live up to these EXPECTATIONS.

At Bowling Green I was anonymous and could be just who I was. I didn't join any clubs, afraid there might be another box into which I should fit. And Houston was the same, at first anyway. But over the years - all 22 of them - the anonymity faded and I became KNOWN. I was mother, writer, graphic artist, wife. I was dependable, smart, funny and a good friend. But eventually, the boxes became too small, and I was tired of working so hard to fit.

It was time to move. Perhaps that's the best way to rid yourself of the boxes and move forward - rediscover oneself. And South Dakota is proving a good place for this.

I love the anonymity. No one calls to say "can you...?" No one expects anything. I simply do what I like when I like - aside from a few deadlines. And this is very freeing. What I am discovering is a whole new side of myself. I remain strong, but love not proving it, and allowing myself to need another. I remain smart, but don't have to solve problems for anyone but myself. There are lots of things I don't know about life here, and I'm having fun getting lost once in awhile, and learning the things I don't know. I can be flighty without consequences. I don't have to be a good wife, or a good mother, or a good friend. I don't have to give advice, be there, or live on the clock another has created. I choose my day, my night, and my life. And it doesn't fit into the old boxes. This is good. They were tight and I was always dancing for someone else. Now I dance my own dance at my own pace and make mistakes and laugh at myself when I burn the pork chops - they weren't so bad. If the dishes are not washed, it's okay...and yesterday, I waited until 4 to make the bed.

And so I choose to remain anonymous for a time anyway. Only those from my past life have big expectations. The new people in my life don't know what to EXPECT. And neither do I.

wednesday morning

I'm on deadline today, and should be working on a magazine instead of dropping by here, but I feel myself getting the urge to write again. What was once new is now becoming my normal life...I guess.

And so we went to Lake Erie fishing on a charter boat named Chelsea with Captain Frank. The crew was to be composed of me, Steve and his mom and dad. So they drove in from Wetonka early Thursday morning. Reluctantly, Steve parked his new truck for the weekend, and we squeezed the VW in the garage (a bad garage - too small for much of anything). We packed up the Ford Explorer we rented and headed out on the freeway toward Ohio and the big water.

The drive was daunting, the accomodations - a trailer house with 6 twin beds - were not what we'd expected, but the fishing was good. And during this trip, I think I actually became a fisherperson in training. I did catch a few fish of my own, and it felt good. I got to know Steve's folks better. They're pretty easy to like, and they remind me of my parents and home. This is good. They make me feel like part of the family, which is something I'm not used to - but I like it.
After we caught lots of fish - except the "big one" which eluded Steve despite his resolve - we drove away from our trailer house to Doylestown. I was a little nervous for the first meeting between my family and Steve's. Somehow I managed to get us there, despite the fact that I have no remembrance of where things are in that part of the country. I did okay until we got to D-town, where I just couldn't seem to find Mom's new house. I was so embarrassed, and will never live it town. I'm sure I've convinced the entire family of the fact that I am indeed, directionally challenged. (I tried to tell you...)

And now it's Thursday...and I'm done with the magazine, and my morning is mine....

The visit was unremarkable, except to say that there was no drama. This is good.

Life is good. I am happy...and everything is as it should be.