Mississippi Moments

Monday, November 12, 2007

The storm seems to be here.
Squish and I just rolled in from a babysitting gig with some nieces and nephews. A few dance contests, dinner, Old Maid and Go Fish, plus two utterly horrible movies later and all was and is well. Oh, and some Squishy ball and training of this pup around those pups. Fun times and I am following through on my intentions of building relationship with my nieces and nephews and exposing this pup to more kids. We need to work on the exposure to grown males now.
I am somewhat scared about the ultrasound today. So what. I am scared of a lot of things. It'll be a nice walk over in the rain today.
I've been working hard all weekend. Can't quite stop. It's a restless work thing, not because I have a plan and an end in sight.
With pleasant moments and walks thrown in.
The RV is in the backyard. Covered with a new tarp. Several things are not as they should be--and I am on that, too. No paperwork or manuals for the new LP gauge and they didn't fix the lights on the outside, only put new plastic things on them. I was clear on several occasions about my expectations and the "to do" list. I will follow though on this starting tomorrow. Will also think about parking at a different angle. It really interferes with our Sheltie ball games. So thankful to have itback. Now I can learn how to do the repairs and upgrades that I want.
I'm tired of sewarding shit. I wish it weren't so labor intensive to find homes for things. It would be just that much easier to load up car or truck and go to the dump. I'm not gonna do that, but sometimes I want to.
And this old house, there is never something that isn't needing attention.
And my attention is distracted and short these days.
The baby shower for my cousin, from the outside, looked like a pleasant affair. And it was. And it was so energetcially wacked out that I shiver when I think about it. There is no authentic, layers of experiential sharing with any of these women except with most of those in my own pod, but then that is even sketchy--and we are supposed to come together in these "rituals" of connection as of old and go through some motions of how it has always been done....doesn't work for me. I lived that bullshit and I don't choose to anymore. The bottomline is that I am not selfish. I am supportive. I do love other's good fortune. I hate lies. And I hate when others won't try and make connection either. I hate that and I seek it elsewhere.
It was also VERY painful to be around all those pregnant women. Very. You see, in my 4-ness, Erin-ness, I'm pregnant, too and no one can see. And I hate being unseen. Seems a contradiction in terms. Anyone can bug out on this whole entry becasue I am writing for myself so I will settle down enough to balance my checkbook---great life, I have it. I choose it. I live it. And it will be nine YEARS of waiting by the time I get to be a parent--IF---this whole thing started in 2000. And I hear comments about how nine months is a long time to wait--GIVE ME A BLOODY SPIT_RAG or something. .....Good Goddess!
Again, choices, mine-carefully, prayerfully, willingly made by me, for me-----and it is still hard! Too hardsometimes.
The shift for Yuletide is also bothering me a lot--much in the same way that I see my parents aging and I see myself aging. It's surreal. I am going to show up with my Heart open and full of Love, my body and muscles cared for, strong, and ready to dance well and accurately---and when the time comes, and it si soon coming, I will find another way to dance my joy with others for Yuletide in less formal circumstances. I don't want to say never, but I won't be a backstage groupie hanging around to just hang around. I am a dancer. It is who I am. And dance I do, and will.
I am not unhappy. I am not happy. I am somewhere else. And my dog's with me.

1 Comments:

  • At 7:16 AM, Blogger About Me said…

    Maybe if you loaded it all up and took it to GoodWill, or something. You could think of it as "Delegating the Stewarding."

    At least you wouldn't be tripping over it...

     

Post a Comment

<< Home