Thought train, hurtling down the tracks

I just turned on Bob Dylan.
Well, I can’t be sure…
It might just be a banana in his pocket.
Or a guitar pick??
But seriously…I was in the mood for some soothing tunes and harmonica
Or a dude and his guitar,
Or.
Something.

What happened to me?
When did I tumble from cool/edgy/sexy into frumpy/insecure/static?
Or maybe I was never quite as cool as I thought I was,
And also, it isn't the “when” that I should be pondering,
But the “how”.
How, how, how…?
It’s like I’m the yin to my own yang…
I turned inside out or upside down, but not both, no…
It’s too symmetrical to have been both.
Where once I was surging with need,
Now I am sated, a fat cat smiling with canary feathers floating slowly down through a beam of sunlight as I bask in the warm afternoon sunlight through a bay window overlooking…well, the ocean, because that’s what would make me happy, but probably a cat wouldn't care, so that analogy has broken down.

I’m pretty sure Pandora just threw me some Johnny Cash…a duet?
Indeed! With June Carter…aw…
(“If I Were a Carpenter”)
I smile sweetly because I was dreaming of my Love,
and how his glorious heart has transformed me,
and then a couple started singing.
Profound.
Back to my life ponderings, though…
Because I wasn’t done.
It is like I went from all sharp edges and intensity,
seeking, dreaming, needing, craving
To
Happy, satisfied, fulfilled—
So deeply and thoroughly that my motivation evaporated under the warming light of his love…hehe…cheesy, eh?
But I can’t help but feel a bit lost…
My identity was that woman, the one with a tattoo and a piercing and a sassy, sexy attitude.
The one who was driven to flash her best colors to every pair of eyes to wander across her refraction  hoping to attract The One.
And then she did…er, I did.
And that side of me, that version of me was replaced with a woman so intensely in love with The One that I transformed, oh my….like being bitten by a zombie or a vampire or werewolf or infested with brain bacteria that make me crave him...
I am now his acolyte.
I need to shake free of the haze
that keeps me in this daze
And find a way…
To merge that kick-ass, fun, rebellious little chick
With
This happy, boring, lump.
It’s a puzzle I can’t solve just yet.
Because how do I find a new motivation??
I tend to let life drag me along, tumbling where it takes me.
Where to, next, Universe??
I want to continue to thrive with my True Love…I do not want to go back to that place…where I yearn and keen and claw my way through life,
But I’m just not used to being content.
It feels soooo nice…but it makes me complacent.
So how do I recapture some drive without losing what I have??
I guess I just need to remind myself that he and I will both be happier and even more thoroughly fulfilled if I feel sexy and alive/worthwhile again…
Because I am losing sight of that woman, that person I felt so sure I was.
And, of course, life is not a constant, life is undulating, ever-changing, tortuous in its path, so why do I find myself continually surprised by its dynamic nature?
Ah, well.
Here I am.
Wandering the pathways of my mind again…
Maybe I just need to do this more often.
Well, duh.
I've been saying that for years.
Have I been not blogging for as long as I've been blogging??
Wow…that makes me sad.
Not that I need to blog, per se, but that I don’t write on a regular basis anymore.
And maybe………..
Maybe I will, or maybe I’m chasing an unattainable dream.

Oooh, Neil Young, “Pocahontas.” Nice!

Oh. Duh.
The gym.
The answer is: THE GYM.
I smile, and relax a bit...

Stones, "Paint it Black"...yeah....
I will, dammit! I will paint that gym black!!!
Or my wardrobe...But not my hair.
I love black.
I guess I can't pull of black hair as a chubber.
And yes, I sure am one.
I have hidden within the security of a personalized fat suit for 3 years, 4?
And I am soooooo ready to unzip that fucker and step out of it!!!!!
(If only it were that easy, but oh yes, it really is, because I love a love a love the gym!)

Ok, well.

yeah.

I want to be Toni Morrison.

Bonnie and Clyde

Let’s be the Bonnie and Clyde of authors—

Would that be Bukowski and Sylvia Plath?

Or maybe Hemingway and Virginia Woolfe?

But I’m the orphaned love-child of Bukowski and Plath,

A seed planted in the Bell jar that stood beside the bed

Covered in tangled sheets and sweaty limbs,

Grinding groins and panted meter.

So I guess
we
can’t be them…
because I already am.

Long dark shadow

Life is beautiful
But sometimes,
the long dark shadow that follows me
sweeps around and kicks me—
hard
—in the chest.
And for a little while,
I can’t breathe
(but I do),
And I am filled with the cold
That comes from the toes
Of that dark shadowy beast,
Still lodged in my chest.
I push away,
Push at my Love,
Accusing him of causing this
dark
shadow.
And then
He melts through my lightly icy
Walls of defense,
standing steady and solid,
Warm and unflappable beside me,
Until I sigh and lean into him,
Smiling sheepishly.
And, wordlessly,
I acknowledge
that the long
Dark
Shadow
Sprouts from within
…Me.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig....

Because apparently
Iowa
is home.
For now.

Yup, still in denial! :)

I spent 6 weeks traveling, which is swell,
but just sort of left me feeling more topsy turvy than ever.
Definitely made me crave coming "home,"
which felt good because I need to start considering this home.
I just don't.
And probably never will.
Which is also ok.
No hard feelings, Iowa.
Nothing personal, Midwesterners.
I'll never hate this place like I hated Utah (though I miss it now, for the wonderful chunk of family that I leave there),
and I'll never love anywhere like I love Maine.
It is nice here, pleasant.
I just want to be in Maine.
Duh...are we surprised??
This little housewife has always whined about going Home.

So, apologies.

I had a lovely time in Florida, then flew to Maine where I fell into the river of my sister's vacation and enjoyed the time with her very much, then drove to Utah (4 days in the car with my Mom, and we never ran out of stuff to jabber on about), where I spent some quality time with family and reunited with my kiddos.
That had to be written as one sentence because it felt like a long one...
I didn't really have control of anything on the majority of my trip, which was kind of hard...
but I tried to just let go and enjoy it.
I generally succeeded, but it is nice to be home again, and Master of my own fate again.

It is.
So. Hot.
Here.
It makes me want to stay inside
stay inside
stay
inside.
Grateful for air conditioning
and ice cream.
Grateful for my Love.
Grateful.

Hobbies...

I'm still in Iowa,
for anyone out there keeping score.
I've taken on a hobby--
going to job interviews
just for someone to talk to...
Then turning down the jobs
because they suck.

Lots of travel plans to sort out for the summer...
Nothing set in stone, but I'll keep y'all posted.
Yeah, I just said, "Y'all."
I regret it.

Life is good.

Feels like summer, summertime....

But we still have a few weeks of school left.
Sooooo hot today and yesterday.
Today?
Lake.
With a few great friends from growing up.
Lots of chatting and laughing.
It made me so happy.
It made me want to do that every week.
It was beautiful there...
and I clocked it; only 11 minutes from my house.
Not
too
shabby.
And while we were there,
The Love texted to say he stumbled upon a writing opportunity for me.
That man is my lucky charm.

Then home to gather children and prep dinner and off to a neverending baseball game.
I am so sleepy from the sun and warmth....
it was a good day.

So hot.
And so hungry before dinner that now dinner sits angrily in my belly.
Shouting up at me for making it wait so long.
Sorry, egg rolls.
You know I love making you almost as much as I love eating you...
it was out of my hands...the innings crawled by as the sun refused to set, until finally they both crashed to a close at once.

Maine is not for sissies.

With pretty words echoing in my mind...

The lilting, clear voice of a friend's daughter
singing a John Denver classic.
I find the words an apt accompaniment to my presence here.
Except I don't live in West Virginia...ha.
I think I drove through part of it once, on the way from Pittsburgh to a hidden corner of Maryland.
Anyway....the point is that country roads do take me home, every day I'm here, living in the quiet, curvy land at the end of the earth.

I am finally at peace, and for a long time that has meant my desire to write was dormant, ignored, unnecessary.
Spring is midway through springing upon us, and it is causing creativity and desire to surge through my veins.
Desire for sleep, that is.
The pollen gums up my eyes and I fight of a cold or allergies that feel very allergenic, but my mind is vibrant like a whole box full of half-used tubes of acrylic paints and that is why I think it is not allergies, allergies which clog the arteries of my cerebral cortex, allergies which deaden the synapses which connect the pathways of my grey lumpy mass of intercranial coral.
Oh, "intercranial" isn't a word, blogger? Tsk-tsk.

The ponds and lakes are melting so fast it makes me doubt that it was February mere days ago.