There are big things happening, y'all. I've been a bit preoccupied, a bit tired. So much to consider, so much ahead. All good things, but so complex.
Also, we've been carting our happy little asses back and forth to Indiana for all manner of family events, and we're road weary. We're deep in a laundry crisis with no way out-- let's call this a laundry quagmire-- and we've stopped unpacking suitcases, treating them like special floor storage for the clothes we wear the most. We're over-committed after work to all kinds of worthy and unworthy causes, we're spending an ass load of money on groceries because we don't have the time to be smart about what we're buying. I feel like we're living event to event to event and we're facing another trip to Indiana this weekend. Fortunately, the last until the holidays, but damn, our (paid) dog sitter is LOVING us.
Does that sound a little down? I know. It is. I'm a little down, a little overwhelmed, a little pissed off and a lot emotional. We've made some decisions I certainly don't regret but now that we're at a no-turning-back place, I'm seeing more clearly how other things (job, for one) don't fit the way I thought they could. My math isn't working out and I'm feeling so disconnected from my real life-- the lively, interesting one-- spending all this time here in my box with my tiny window. I'm itching for a change again, even though change is barreling down the path, coming right for me.
Nothing is WRONG, but still, things don't seem quite right. The nudges are becoming shoves.
And to counter all of that moping, here are the things that are oh-so-good: my funny, funny Bird becoming more herself every day, doing awesome Bird things like hollering upstairs to A to make sure he doesn't forget his "deenerant." Saying, "Let's rock out" when she's got her shoes on and ready to leave the house. Reading her books to us, teacher style, slowly moving the book in front of her body in an arc so we can see the pictures. A's startup business taking a little more shape, gaining a little more momentum. Cooler weather, a heavy garden, never needing to buy tomatoes or peppers. A house I love that is patient with me and all my neglect. Little things like new tupperware. Constant things like old smelly dogs that tolerate being covered with stickers and friends who don't care if you don't call.