If It Doesn't Make Sense, I Understand It Perfectly

I need a to don't list.

Let's face it. The to do list is old news. Been there. Done that. Or tried to do some of it before giving up halfway through.

It just seems to me that a to do list only knows how to do one thing, starting with one little got to be done and ending up with a whole batch of still got to do, which adds up to only one thing... Stress!

So I'm switching it up, turning things around, and trying something new on for size just to see how it might feel to be high up on the probability chart for completing a task by doing nothing much at all.

Doubt not my genius good people! I am like a pioneer left stranded on the Oregon Trail faced with the horror of making a decision between (A), (B), (C), or (Depending Doom). Will I trade the bullets needed to shoot big game to buy a two ounce vial of Chicken Pox vaccine to save poor Tommy's life, or will I hook up with another wagon train, and barter my old washing tub in return for a ride on a half dead donkey?

Or will I completely get off topic and wind up talking about something so out of the blue that I'll have no idea of how to get back to what I was originally saying?

Some things, like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know...

To Do List Be Damned

There are about a hundred things on my to do list tonight and only about a one in one hundred chance that something on that list might actually get done...

I have however had dinner. A truly gourmet meal of Kashi whole grain, honey imbibed something that looked like cereal - but didn't taste nearly as good as a bowl of chocolate peanut butter pops - dowsed with just the right amount of skim milk to make it look perfectly enticing.

If we must be honest with each other, and I feel we must, enticing is was not. It was however quick, easy, to the point, and absolutely no fuss on a night when I was running late from work, had nothing much else in the house to make, and no intention of cleaning up until tomorrow.

In other words, it worked for me.

KC on the other hand had a microwave mac and cheese meal courtesy of Stouffer's. I might have had some too, but I made the mistake of looking at the calorie count including the calorie count from fats and decided as my breath expelled itself out in a sigh, that it was most definitely off my list of the can eat eats.

Still even KC knows better than to think that this kind of meal is the norm in our house. We are more a brown rice and chicken prepared in a thousand different ways family. A family who avoids fast food at all cost, and rarely buys prepacked prepared meals except for infrequent occasions when it's just too convenient to pass up.

My daughter however isn't happy over our healthier lifestyle. She thinks I'm denying her her right to double cheeseburgers at McDonald's, and she had a perfectly good snit the other night when I absolutely refused to stop at the drive-thru to fulfill her need for a chocolate milkshake. Twenty unbearable minutes of listening to her whine, complain, and moan incessantly over my not stopping, she finally went mute and gave it up.

In other news, and yes, I do have other news. I finally found my missing library book on Saturday beneath my dresser in my room, though I swear I had looked there about a thousand time before to no avail. Excited as I was to have it in my hands, I must admit I was a little nervous about the overdue fee. After all there are only so many times you can renew something you can't find before the library catches on. Lucky for me, the fine was reasonable. Seven dollars, paid in full, was well worth being able to check out more books. Two of which I've already read and returned and one that as of this morning, I am now halfway through. I just can't seem to help myself...

Books are like a constant northern star, always a new name, and a new place, but a welcome respite all the same.

Actually I think I finally did manage to make a dent in my own prolific scratchings. Like a mute swan in a frozen lake, my ideas have been trapped in ice. And nothing, no matter what I did, could chip those ice blocks away. That is, until I read something quite by accident. And then the thaw began, and a name popped into my mind and I could see her as if she had been patiently waiting just to exist the moment I was able to call her into being.

Her story began tumbling out of me, breathing its own air, waking me from my sleep to sit in front of my computer late at night and listen to everything she had to say. And she is very wordy, wanting to talk no matter what the time, no matter what it is I should be doing. And so I wake up to the randomness of her mutterings and do my best to write them down as fast as I am able before they slip away like fading headlights into the fog.

Who's Your Daddy?

Dear Noisy Neighbors Downstairs,

It would be ever so nice of you to not leave your television set on at top volume from the moment my head hits the pillow at night, to the minute my alarm goes off in the morning. You see, and I don't think is going to come as any out of the blue surprise, people who have jobs need plenty of peaceful and relaxing sleep in order to be able to function properly throughout their workday.

I'm sure that if you had a job, you would probably be better able to see the bigger picture as to why I can't stand you without ever having met you face to face...

As for your sex life which you so kindly decided to share with everyone within a one mile hearing distance the other night, let me just point out that I honestly do hope he's really not your Daddy, and that you have some hair left in your head despite your pleas for him to pull it harder...

Had I not heard it for myself, I might have gone on to believe that white trash sex talk didn't exist... Thank you for providing me with such an extensive repertoire to add to my vocabulary. I can now rest easy in my new found knowledge that should the situation ever call for it, I'll know exactly what to say and when!

Here's hoping you'll find a new place to move that's much more suitable to your personality really soon...

Your Neighbor and Nemesis Upstairs

PS... Garbage goes in the bin, not outside it. Try lifting the lid, it always seems to work really well for me.

The Bitch Blog

Feeling much more myself tonight and not like I'm about to knock, knock on heaven's door, it's a good time to open up with a little bit more bitch and a lot less bite my tongue until it bleeds.

I am annoyed...

Though admittedly I've been annoyed almost my entire life towards one thing or another and cannot say at this time that this is something new...

This time however I'm really above my limit of tolerance annoyed.

Annoyed at people who act more like a spoiled three year old child set loose in a workplace with behavior that is quite unacceptable in the parameters of nine to five office life.

My philosophy is do your job, work with whom you must work with, and leave your personal differences at the door. Notice I didn't mention like or respect. That kind of thing isn't necessary when relying on professionalism.

So if someone chooses not to talk to me, I'm all for their choice and more than happy that they made one.

I do not however enjoy playing patty cakes with a third co-worker whose only purpose in the mix is to relay messages back and forth as if they're the cheap ass string in a two tin can conversation.

(The Scenario)

Ten minutes into my day, co-worker "A" utilized co-worker "B" for what I have now decided is the absolute, not going to play this game anymore, last time.

What is was exactly that set me off my ice block this morning, I'm not sure I know. All I know is that it was just enough to push me out of my chair and across the hall to say what I've been wanting to say for over six months.

It went a little something like this...

"If you have a question you need to ask me, or some documentation you need to get to me or from me, I'd appreciate it if you would ask me direct rather than sending in co-worker "B" to get it for you."

Co-worker "A" froze, looking at me as if she were a shocked deer in the headlights, visibly stumbling over what to say in response. (It could of course be contributed to the fact than when I'm angry, and I was seething, I can be quite formidable, in a very intimidating way when one does not take into account my five foot stature.)

She didn't have much to say however, other than an excuse which I quickly blew to smithereens with one little huff and a short little puff.

"Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been bypassing me for months. Whatever grudge you've got, you feel free to keep right on carrying it, but for the sake of getting the job done, get over it when it comes to our working relationship, so we can all stop playing footsie."

I didn't wait for a reply. And to be honest, I didn't find it necessary. Had my buttons not been pushed to the point of must explode or else, I would have let it slide another day, another week, another month, only for the sake of not giving her the satisfaction of letting her know that I was ever affected by any of it at all.

There are two truths I know when it comes down to holding a grudge.

One, it's a well known fact that the person holding it expands much more energy to do so than the one the grudge is being held against.

And two, if you're the rock in my pocket, believe you me, I've already let you go.

Chillin' & Illin'

When you're coughing up phlegm, you can look at it in one of two ways. And while completely sucking on the sick front is a valid opinion of catching a cold in the tail end of summer, a more positive spin on the situation would be to say, "It's better out than in."

I may have stolen that line from Shrek, and you'll just have to forgive me if I did...

But honestly, feeling as ill as I have for the past four days, a little slack on the whole plagiarism issue is an absolute must have for the September season. I am after all sick, and should be treated with some respect if not at least a marginal amount of passing concern.

Chicken soup however doesn't seem to be doing its job. I made a whole super size batch from scratch Thursday night when I first felt this coming on, and it hasn't made a lick of difference. At least not one that I've noticed. Then again it's pretty hard to notice much of anything when you're passed out on the furniture drooling.

Being sick did not keep me from taking KC to her Jonas Brother's concert Friday night despite a pounding headache made much worse by the sound of a thousand, if not more, screaming girls professing their undying love for Kevin, Nick and Joe. And I must admit, though it's begrudgingly, that those partly prepubescent boys do indeed have natural God given talent enabling them to put on quite a show.

And KC, well to say she had a great time would be putting it mildly... In fact, I'd even go so far to say that in her opinion it was a most perfect night. Heartfelt thanks should then be said (again and in print) to Grandma Nancy for making the impossible possible. Had it been left up to me, this is one concert that might not have had a happy ending.

Ending a Dry Spell

Understanding defies logic. You cannot after all make sense out of something that makes no sense at all. But there it is. A light shining beacon in the darkness that turns itself on faster than you can flick a switch and the idea begins to grow.

And you remember what it is to write with purpose and with passion.

One seed. One thought. Fed, watered, allowed to bloom, taking shape beneath a tender hand.

Home Chillin'

I skipped the gym tonight in favor of staying home with Lucy, who with her plastic looks like she got her head stuck in a lampshade but effectively keeps her from getting at her stitches collar, looks ready for a flight into outer space.

Our lunar landing notwithstanding, I am at least doing one positive thing today just by stopping in to say hello. Of course that doesn't mean my hello is going to last all that long. Not tonight I'm afraid when I'm more than ready to call it a night, than fight with myself for something to write about.

And since today was more work than play, there really isn't much fodder in the larder for public fanfare. It was so busy in fact, that I never even noticed that my radio remained eerily off.

My yawning however has reminded me that it's far beyond the time for bed.

I am to sleep posthaste...

Making Faces

People who take random pictures of you sticking your tongue out and then post them on the Internet ought to be taken out and flogged until they can't so much as press the button on a point and shoot camera.

Seriously... I'm not photogenic. And it certainly doesn't help when I'm making faces in the midst of an unscripted Kodak moment.

And yes, I know I'm partly to blame... I mean I was the one sticking my tongue out and all, but honestly, does that mean we have to share it with the entire world?

Sigh... If only I were a vampire, this so wouldn't be a problem.

Not A Political Blog

Oh dear...

I am days late again with keeping up to date on events that are for the most part current. As usual however there is nothing of any great import to share with you, nor the world at large.

I sit here in the dark, attempting to fade out the noise of cars passing by with Italian arias. I am if I were to be honest, a tad bit lonely tonight with both my daughter and my fearless pup gone away.

KC at her father's is for the most part a welcome respite. After the pass few days, one of which included a four girl sleepover, and then an entire day spent in their sleep deprived company, followed by an even more heinous day of school shopping on a budget, I am more than ready for my fair share of solitude.

Lulu's absence however sits on my heart like a rock. And as bad as I know this is going to sound, I miss my little rat dog with her goofy grin, her half cocked ears and the way she cuddles up on the couch, resting her chin on the edge so she's always near me, even while I write.

I am overly attached to my dog. I admit it. It's just a welcome relief to know that at the end of the day, there's at least one happy face to greet me at the door. Not that KC doesn't try, but her greetings are usually followed up with a long want list and then a long face when I do my parental duty by saying, "No." (I practice that one in the mirror all of the time, and only manage to get it right half of the time.)

Thankfully Lulu will be home tomorrow from her brief and temporary stay at the vets. As a responsible pet owner, I did what must be done and had her spayed. I didn't want to do it necessarily, but it was the right thing to do and I (almost) always (except for occasionally once in a while) do the right thing.

Of course, when I do do the wrong thing, I can be counted on to make it one hell of a big blunder. But honestly, who can be good all of the time? (Okay... So Mother Theresa! But besides her, who?)

Which brings me to yet another opinion I feel the need to share...

What was Obama thinking? Joseph Biden? What?

Okay... okay. I get it. With Hillary in his camp, he would have had a constant power struggle on his hand, someone who would have always questioned his politics, policies and procedures. And yet, I can't say that this sounds like a bad thing...

Sure I probably wouldn't appreciate having someone all up in my business (not you guys, you're like invited) all of the time, but then again, I'm not on a public platform asking to be nominated as your President. Unless you really want me there, and then by all means, throw in my name and we'll see what happens.

Note to self: Mandatory three day work week to be implemented the minute I hit the oval office. Change weekends to include Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. No exceptions!

But honestly, it would have been a political dream team. And I would feel a hell of a lot more secure in my vote had he chosen a woman who many in this country are still more for than either Barack himself or Bush's clone McCain...

And just to point out the obvious, if you hadn't yet realized I'm a registered democrat, I guess the cat is pretty much out of the bag at this point. This will not, as no one as my witness however, become a political blog... I just don't have it in me to stay on top of every issue that's going to be in the news for the next three months.

But honestly, you'd think that we could vote for people who would be above mud slinging. Every side may do it, but then again, I'm not jumping off a bridge just because my best friend might decide to give it a try. And the fact that I am seriously afraid of heights pretty much keeps me away from the edge anyway.

When It Rains

Odd happenings in the world today that have raised the question of, "Huh?"

Namely an email conversation that started early on this morning and lasted until the very last minutes of my day with the not so mysterious and until today extremely silent Mister H.

And since my current flirtation was too busy to play email tag whilst preparing for his vacation, I simply switched my attentions back momentarily to see what it was my old friend had to say.

It turns out we had lots of skimming the surface to speak of, though it was painfully obvious that anything else would have been too much information after too long a silence. And yet, I have to wonder what exactly is was all about and what purpose it might have served.

For me the answers are not forthcoming. And as much as I am a woman who likes answers to every single question I've ever had, even I know that for some questions the only true answer you'll ever hear is quite simply the one you don't.

Which doesn't make me feel any less in the middle of wanting to feel something and feeling nothing at all. Perhaps there is no remedy for water already under the bridge other than just to let it go.

Ocean Pebbles

There was something I heard today, that I was trying to remember, that I've evidently forgotten... And it seems to me that most profound thoughts seem to be as easily lost as they are found.

I used to carry a small notebook around with me to jot everything down in. But somewhere along the way, I fell out of that habit. Mostly because I also had a bad habit of leaving those notebooks lying around where anyone could prop them open and read them to their heart's content.

I think the difference between words here compared to words there is the level of polish they've been given. Private words on paper are seemingly more raw than the poetics applied to a post. And a post is more accurately described as a shelter, protected from the elements on the inside while seemingly exposed for all to see.

Or better yet, perhaps all of this is simply my version of cheap talk therapy...

Whatever it is or for that matter isn't, it keeps me in tune to the sound of my own voice.

LuLu's Two Cents

She's listening to classical music again, which can only mean one thing. She's in a sappy, all you really need is love kind of mood. Don't tell anyone, but I think she met a boy today. Or kind of sort of met a boy today that she has been not so harmlessly flirting with these past two months.

I could tell from the moment she got home. One... She managed to completely ignore me for five minutes, a feat practically unheard of in our house, and this after she told her own Mother the other night, that I, yes I did say I, I complete her. (A bit over dramatic and all, but if you know my owner, you'd understand.)

Two... And this is just odd... If she had birds sailing around her head and no tan, I would have pegged her for Snow White. Snow White minus the ruby red lips that is. And just to clarify, that whole fairest in the land thing, as far as this pup's opinion goes, is about as overrated as overrated can get.

Needless to say, she was in good humor which meant treats for me, a pat on the head, and not the least little bit of trouble over that tasty little morsel of a shoe I sort of helped myself to earlier today while everyone was going goo goo over those gosh darn cats.

Cats I might add that live to torment me when no one else is home. You'd think they were here first or something...

But back to this boy thing... I don't know much about him at all other than she thinks he may actually be the last nice guy left on the planet that is without a doubt single and unattached. It doesn't hurt either that he's a single Dad with physical custody of his son. Not only does he get the whole parenting thing, but he gets it on a level that for the sake of not being politically correct, most non-custodial Dad's don't.

She however is keeping mum on this whole thing, not wanting to build it up too much in case it turns out to be nothing, but I can tell she's interested all the same... Let's just say when it comes to my owner, I know her mind better than she knows it herself. After all, I'm what's known as a muse when it comes to supplying her with things to write about. Don't blame me for her unexcused absences though, the credit for that belongs to only one place, and I'll tell you it rhymes with Jim.

Seriously however it is getting a little past this wee doggies bedtime and my warm spot beneath the covers is calling my name... Or at least I think it's my name...

Anyhoo this is L to the L to the double U signing off. Over and dog gone out.

Imagination Vs. Reality Where Reality Wins

If you're into sadomasochism, the massage chairs at my gym are just the thing to provide you with a good time. This morning was the first time (ever) that I subjected myself to public humiliation, at least whilst at the gym and not including the time I almost lost my footing on the elliptical machine in what would have been a serious non-flattering face planter.

I expected it to be soft music, warm glow of candlelight soothing. You know the whole mental yoga picture of relaxing like a zen moment ought to be. And after the workout I put in this morning, I was ready to sit back, close my eyes and and check out of reality for a few blissful minutes.

Yelling out "Jesus!" regardless of it being Sunday, doesn't really work however unless you're in a church having one of those I've just been saved moments. And believe me, I haven't been saved. In the immortal words of Karen Carpenter, "We've only just begun..."

Still I didn't think having my spine nearly pulled liked a wishbone from my body was on my agenda for today. Beaten, bruised, pummeled and for the sake of continuity limping, I lifted myself from the chair, looked at my sister and meekly said, "Next time I think I'll just tan."

The Post That Almost Was

And just like that, an hour and a half of writing goes down the tubes when the auto-save feature decides to take a nosedive...

To say that I am a bit less than pleased at present time would be a gross understatement of I'm irritated beyond all reason of fact.

Lost are my references to cotton candy clouds and dandelion fluff. My dragonflies hovering over blue waters, skimming a glass surface. Gone are my perceptions of how one must write from the inside out. My belief that words don't come when you wait, but wait until you are ready to hear them. How one must be like a white sheet left on the line to catch the wind with only one unprecedented and unassuming pin to hold it down.

Such pretty, pretty prose...

Such a waste of a perfectly good post.

Patience - A Dying Art

Dear Non-Diary,

Lucy won't stop barking at the cat and Octavia (the cat in contention) is sauntering about the living room providing the dog with uncensored and unlimited agitation. Normally I would find this behavior amusing, but I'm hungry, sore and on the borderline of having a blooming onion sized headache, so right now I'd have to say no, I'm not impressed. Not one itsy bitsy little bit.

Thankfully food does help in stressful situations, and at the moment, something warm and yummy is high on my list of make Stacey happy. Tonight's dinner, brown rice topped with chili, is my idea of deliciously simple. And no fuss, no mess clean up is what I'm all about...

Back to the cat and the dog and the cat that never comes downstairs since the dog came home... I believe I'd be accurate in saying that the cat is kicking the dog's butt. And if that isn't a sad matter of fact, then I really don't know what is.

But enough about the animals that run my house... Or at the least the place where I presently live. I say that because I've begun what I'd like to call my downfall into poverty. Otherwise known as my search for a place to call home. Emphasis on home, as in mine right along with the monthly mortgage payment.

House hunting is far more stressful than I never gave it credit for however. All this run to this house, run to that house and imagine they could be yours is starting to wear me down so much that I'm not even safe from the thought in my dreams. And my realtor needs a bit of a reality check, like stop showing me houses that are at the highest end of my I really don't want to spend that much spectrum. A woman has to have some cash in her pocket without taking on another job to afford to live...

So I have to learn patience... And while I'm at it, I may take up juggling knives on a unicycle while singing show tunes. Hey, either one could happen... Right?

Well, maybe not... But I do know that with the present choices of houses available to be owned, there isn't a single jem among them that calls my name... Every single one has had one thing or another that keeps it from being the house I've dreamed of since I was old enough to want my own space.

You see, I've got this picture in my head of a cozy little cottage with a bright red door and the garden of all gardens filled with beautiful bouquets of color that says, "Finally... Welcome home."

Ren Fair Highlight Photos

Fun (and at the same time exhausting) day yesterday... Not quite as proficient with my daughter's digital camera as I am with my own Nikon SLR (too burdensome to carry on this wee adventure) so not the best pics from the land of Warwickshire... Still it was enough just to enjoy a bright, beautiful and sunny day in the company of friends and family.

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen's Mom

I'm like a flashing neon sign that screams out CLOSED! Or at least my brain is. I'm not quite sure, but I think it melted. Can't quite pinpoint the when or even at this point the where, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I've got nothing left...

I blame it on my cell phone bill. Or to be exact, my daughter's unmentionable contribution to my cell phone bill. The jaw dropping, it was a good thing she was at her Dad's when I opened it, almost needed to be resuscitated, she's grounded until I stop turning blue cell phone bill.

Yeah. That one.

Which reminds me, I've got to go to a Jonas Brothers concert this month!

I'd like to point out that I do this out of parental duty and parental duty alone as I would not willingly subject myself to those wanna be rock pop stars... And honestly, their stylist ought to be fired! Between their clothes and their hair, I've yet to decide what's worse.

Worse however is the screaming headache I'm already anticipating I've going to have once I'm at this concert. Have I mentioned that I'm going under duress?

Back to the subject of my cell phone bill however, there's not much I can do other than pay it, and make KC's life as miserable as humanly possible for whatever length of time it takes until she's duly apologetic (doubtful) and/or manages to come up with the funds to pay off her share of the bill (impossible) or until I feel I've gotten my parental revenge.

For those of you who have or are raising teenagers, you understand quite perfectly what I'm talking about. And for those of you still in the aren't they so cute stages of parenthood, a warning...

The cuteness wears off.

Crack Me Up Conversations Via Email

So? Do you miss me? Have you been crying all morning? Despondent. Sad. I know. Canadians have that effect on Americans.

Question: when you have a free moment (ha - like that ever happens), could you send me a list of the t/a codes that are used most often? Going to start studying the book and will begin with those.

Merci beaucoup.
J'espere que t'a journee passe bien. A bientôt.
D

It's like someone has stolen the sun without you here... Or it could just be that I have no window to look out of which has reduced me to being the only person on earth who suffers from
seasonal affective disorder in the tail end of summer...

That being said, I wouldn't know if Canadians have that effect on Americans (as you say) as you are the first and only Canadian I've ever really had a conversation with beyond hi, goodbye and don't let the door hit your (censored for your protection) on the way out.

Free moments don't come around all that often, but I figure writing this email is a pretty good
excuse to ignore all calls ringing in on my line... Good to know my customer service skills rank right up there with the best.

Anyhoo... To answer your question, study up on your t/a part numbers first. And yes, I
will be quizzing you come next week so I expect you to be practicing with your flash cards all weekend long...

If you said thanks, and to enjoy my weekend, followed with a short and sweet goodbye, you got it... Same to you but in English as I don't speak French unless I'm really, really tired and
watching a movie with subtitles imagining I'm bilingual.

Your Newly
Acquired American Pen Pal,
S

Awesome reply! Much appreciated. I like your wit. Your windowless story made me cry. Really. Now there are tears and snot everywhere!

I will study hard. Flash cards and all. The quiz will have to wait for the following week as I will be travelling with E. next week.

Yes, have a great weekend. Well, close. I will start your French lessons
when I return.

A bientôt (means see / speak to you soon).
D

At least I was in the ballpark with my interpretation...

And just because you're traveling with E, doesn't mean you don't get quizzed... Who do you think taught E?

See ya on the flip side...
S

PS... I have an endless supply of wit... It's just the common sense I'm lacking. : )

There is a store in Montreal that sells common sense. $2.99 / lb. I will get you some.

I will call you at home at 1AM next Wed for the quiz.
D

Good luck getting that across customs...

I don't answer my phone after midnight, but feel free to leave your answers on my voice mail.

Who knows, you might just get yourself a gold star!!! (Woo hoo!)

Alrighty then, I've avoided work long enough... Must BTR before the hour strikes the time to flee...

Enjoy your weekend,
S

Taking a Break

My Mom wants to clean my house and I don't.

I'm not in the mood. And I refuse to be forced into manual labor at 10:19 on a Saturday morning.

So I'm putting my foot down. Or to be more exact, sitting on my ass to write this post while drinking a cup of coffee from my chocolate brown big girl mug.

Unfortunately this isn't going to last long for two reasons...

1. My Mother is on the phone talking to Ken.
2. Break time is over the moment she hangs up the phone.

And just for good measure...

3. Have you met my Mother?

I love the woman but honestly, she's got a one track mind that when set in motion does not deter from its predetermined course. Ever.

Normally this would be a most excellent trait. And for the most part, it is. It's just not my favorite trait at this exact moment when what I really want to do is a whole lot of nothing much at all.

I'm thirty-three and I'm feeling seven, getting ready to be sent to my room for bad behavior.

Aha!

Saved by the bell. Or to be exact, Brenda ringing my cell. And if she's ringing, it can only mean one thing...

There's something she doesn't feel like doing either!

This is Stacey. Over, out and off to the rescue...

Soul Stirrings

Another quiet Adirondack morning and it's just me and the sound of this keyboard while my Mother creaks the floorboards in the other room sorting through piles of piles of more piles. The rain falls straight, from sky to ground, as if it's worried someone will come to take its measure.

I could get used to this quiet. This ticking clock. The sound of cars passing by through rainy puddles on the street. The slow nature of life in a place where I have nowhere to go and no true schedule demanding that I be diligent in all my duties.

For the moment I am relaxed. Just enough to breathe a sigh of relief, but not enough to ease the worry knots knitting down my back. Vacations cannot last forever. It is a sad and sorry fact and I am counting down the days until it's done.

If wishes were horses, I'd put my own out to pasture here. Up in this quaint mountain view town and city. Up here where time stops and starts on whims, pushing me forward into the future, calling me back just as quickly to the past.

Places such as these that whisper home. Here is where you are, and here is where you should stay. Why return to places that do not speak to you such as I?

But how can I be true?

Too many obligations call me back to where I am. Home, job, family, friends... There is no option to pack them all up and move away.

So I cement myself down as best I can.

Making do.

Marking time.

Waiting.