happy out here

I like it out here. Not Blue Mounds WI in particular, but out HERE - traveling to my different little communities, being welcomed with open arms. It's like, I land, and come alive. I need to be out here.

And it feels like something shifted internally, my core now set to the frequencies of airplane travel, gear up and go.

So if I'm really saying yes, this is me, then I can move ahead with: now, let's make a real profit on this. If I'm big enough to be out here, I'm big enough to receive the big rewards.

walking away

I had a night of garbled airport dreams, way out of pattern for my transitioning metaphor airport dreams. They had nothing to do with Florida. I didn't even make the second flight, and I consciously knew I was setting out to miss it.

As the day progressed, I had the distinct feeling of "breaking free of an old shell or pattern... and walking away." No looking back. Done. Rubbish behind. What I'm done with, fractured behind me. Walking, striding boldly forward.

Then I went and picked up our tax returns - personal and business. Now THERE'S something to walk away from - the slump that splatted against the wall in 2006.

What else is there to do but walk away from how it's been? And walk into what I need to do now?

Walking away. It feels so clean, so definitive. I'm done, and I don't even know with what.

the curse of "low-maintenance"

I think we've been wronged. Or caught on the "splat" end of the pendulum swing.

Hi, my name is Cathy, and I was raised to be self-supporting, self-sufficient, self-maintained, caught in the rip-tide of feminist agenda.

Today, in a totally unexpected moment in an innocent breakfast conversation, I commented back to my husband "and I'm so low-maintenance!"

And promptly burst into tears.

Low-maintenance, no-maintenance, self-sufficient - we can't be meant to live at that edge of things. I do have needs. There are times it is important to name them, project them, demand they be met.

Not, of course, in the uber-bitchy drama queen non-stop style that my mother used, obviously.

But it hasn't been obvious.

After decades of therapy, proper individuation, emotional independence, blah blah blah, I thought I had left that edge of "I'll never grow up like HER" long behind. Repsectfully discharged and buried.

And so it is. But here is the aftermath, the echoes of a pattern that has shaped my life, even as I manifest it in "healthy" ways.

And in this prolonged period of extreme neediness on the part of my husband (= new job chaos, etc), I'm seeing that I have driven any sense of my own personal needs so far underground that I forgot they belonged to me. And that I had no clear mechanism for owning them even in the easier days.

Low-maintenance. No-maintenance. No needs.

No more.

Might as well spend today in the meltdown, in the privacy of my own space. And lay to rest these honorable beliefs that I can do it all on my own: parenting, business-owning, house-running, heart-holding.

Better to honestly own what it is I DO need, and claim it for what it is. Doesn't have to be cloaked in the old squirmy passive-aggressive games of June Cleaver's day. Let's find the midline of this.

Maintenance required.

here and gone

how can a week go by so fast? Took the red-eye home from Salt Lake Sunday night, which is a uniquely inhumane experience - and somehow the rest of the week evaporated. Especially yesterday, dreaded day of "mediation hearing" with the windstorm insurers. Except, they sent their rep with no intention of "mediating" on anything. He could have just sent a letter. He came with permission to write a paltry check for repairs that can't even be done. Place his right hand on the engineer's report that said "oh no, none of this is related to a hurricane" and said - that's it! I can't refute an engineer's report!

Trouble is, what I discovered too late is that their engineering firm has already been convicted in other states of colluding with the insurer in generating false reports on damaged property.

So, seeing as I missed my opportunity to point out this particular information, I did the next best thing: called my client who is the insurance reporter for the local paper. Sent him the links that I found on this company's reputation. Set loose the hounds, perhaps they can still pick up a scent.

I need a new roof. As did 50 other homeowners in my tiny community, thanks to Hurricane Wilma. I need justice to prevail, and the windstorm company to ante up.

If the Divine Wisdom wants me in Bozeman, commuting to other points of light in the US, I need this roof thing resolved so the house can sell.

And now back to the other dozen crises awaiting some attention.

life in the new world

So it appears that I now have a satellite office up in Grand Rapids. Guest PT at the Center for Childhood Development. Who knew that someone would ever want me again? It was all fine and good to be brave and laugh it up about moving in, but bringing it home to FL to integrate is a whole nother thing.

But it's the right start, and a good move, and so important for the kids and their families. And to support Molly as she creates that space.

And as I'm landing in Michigan, the phone rings from Montana, and yes, my office space is being built out there even as we speak. How it all dances!

And how can I leave?

the year in review

So we went to CO for stepson E's wedding, met face-to-face with exwife V, renegotiated extended family status, froze in the unheated barn for reception, got sick from mh, went to Bozeman to escape and recover. Oh, and started school. And travelled a bunch more and wrestled with that impossible class and just came out with my 96 A thank you very much. Up here in MI teaching, then back to MT, all while I'm on break. Never mind all the turmoil at home, husband and daughter both, and the financial disasters, and the gut-wrenching tension. Tonight I"m up here safe and sound (and freezing), ok and all tucked in.

And somehow its already March. ???

How this happened we don't know.