Away, again

I am so ready to enter another world for a little while. That inevitably means I'll be spiralling deeper into myself. But at least there will be prettier landscape surrounding me. And I won't have to look at all these friggin' boxes anymore.

That's right. I'm off to Ireland and Scotland for a month. I'm leaving behind my laptop this time and pretty much anything else that might weigh me down. It's all about bringing as little as possible to make room for what greets me.

Here's what I'm most looking forward to:

*seeing old, dear friends and searching for one particular long lost one
*returning to places that are infused with meaning for me
*retreating to a little island to write and walk and swim
*going wild at the Edinburgh Festival
*riding horses on the beach

I haven't quite figured out how, when or where I'll tackle that last one, but it's been on my list for a while. And why the hell not?

I've been so wrapped up in sorting through junk, selling junk, giving it away, packing it up, finding a place to live, preparing to be gone for a while and dive right back into it when I get back, that I haven't taken much time to ponder this trip. I've gone to Ireland so many times now that it feels less like a huge trip than it once did. It's kind of like going home without all the crap that comes with having to deal with family.

And yet I am aiming to confront parts of my past. Come to terms with my younger self. Reconcile with her.

I probably won't be blogging much while I'm away, but I'll post photos when I return.

Wish me luck (whatever that is)!

Chaos, of the soon ending, good variety

Where have I been for the past few weeks? Searching for a new place to live, sorting through 30 years of belongings, and packing it all up. I've donated as much as I've thrown away, and I'm fixin' to have a big ass garage sale.

Why did I decide to do this three weeks before I leave for a month in Europe? Because that's the way I roll. Grace under pressure. Need deadline tension to get anything done.

I think I'm over the crying jags, the insurmountable stress phase, and onto the looking forward part. With many, many thanks to my Aunt, Uncle and Mom for being good company and busting tail to help me prepare for this move.

I found out yesterday I got the place I really want with the move-in date that I want, so now it's just a matter of wrapping things up.

Ultimately, this will be truly liberating. No doubt. I've been living in my ex's house for the three years since I broke up with him. He doesn't technically live here, but to be painfully honest, on some level, I've been waiting for him to come home; and, I'm still engaged in the shitty relationship I thought I ended three years ago. No more.

Although he is coming to town this weekend, in the middle of my garage sale. It won't be easy, but it might be good to have a "last day of our acquaintance." I don't know if there's such a thing as closure. These things just fade away with time. I'm ready to speed up that process.

In other news, I cut my hair, which is no longer blonde, short. You know something's up when a woman does something drastic to her hair.

It's all change, change, change. I think Mercury's in retrograde, but it'll be coming out, soon. By then, I'll be in Ireland, then on to Scotland, then into a new home, which is very cute. I am so looking forward to not taking care of a house. No more lawn to mow, leaves to rake, snow (and chipmunks) to remove. I'm going to let all that stuff be someone else's responsibility for a while. I'll miss the lake, but I've promised MT and Kiki that next summer we'll rent a cottage up north on a bigger, prettier, Superior lake and just kick it for a week or so.

In the meantime, I'll be living in a gorgeous, old, renovated flat within walking distance of work, school, the newspaper, Kiki, every bar and restaurant I'd ever want to patronize, and with any luck, my new boyfriend.

Because I'm making space for the good stuff, y'all.

Summer was great until

. . . uninvited houseguests arrived.
I don't care how damn cute and little they may be out of doors, these bitches are scary when they're scurrying unexpectedly over your toes as you stand in your kitchen.

I had to call in the professionals for this job. I killed one all by myself by trapping it in the heating duct and waiting for it to die. Oh, the stank.

But two makes a pattern in my book, so the traps are set. The exterminator promised I wouldn't hear the scream, but if I go check the traps, I might see a "little butt hanging out."

No, thanks.

I'm worried about my karma. How do I explain to the Big Dog upstairs that I wouldn't have to kill these striped rats if they kept the hell out of my house? What kind of penance must I do to clear my soul? Clean slate. I need a clean slate.

Any ideas?

My latest aspiration

Fabulous compliments

Since Friday, I've received three unsolicited compliments on my ass, all from lovelies who possess fine asses themselves. One of them happened to be diligently massaging my naked behind at the time. "Girl, what you got is firm. Just climb stairs to keep what you got," said my masseur extraordinaire. I went to see him shortly after I blew out my lower back doing too many squats, lunges and deadlifts. "Didn't nobody tell you deadlifts are against the law?"

Another compliment came from MT shortly after he got an eyefull of my derriere as I rode the escalator ahead of him. He said something to the effect of that spinning is paying off. He detected some unprecedented lift.

Guess who's spinning every day until she leaves for Ireland in July?

Nothing beats an ass compliment from a gay man. Except perhaps an ass compliment from a girlfriend whose ass you've always coveted.

Sid came upon me ironing my trousers while wearing a thong. "It's so cute!" she squealed. "Damn you. You are so not allowed to ever complain about your 'pancake ass' again."

Duly noted.

Isn't it funny how people see you differently than you see yourself? I guess sometimes it's good to pay attention to them . . . especially when they have a clearer view than you do. . . .

ethereal toxicity and cutting bitches loose

I feel like I'm going through a phase in which I'm cutting loose all the intangibles that are dragging me down. It's not an entirely conscious choice. It seems to be an effect of choosing not to fight to make people understand things I think they should. I'm not out to change anybody but myself, and that certainly frees up a lot of time and energy.

So all that time and energy is going into the things that matter: putting down roots, taking charge of my finances, giving to things and people that give back, making time for what renews me. It's one of those seismic shifts that seems like it happened overnight, but it's really a cumulative effect from years and years of little earthquakes and day-to-day choices.

My horoscope said this would happen this year.

I guess you do reap what you sow, for better or for worse. Things seem to be lining up for me. The job--the vocation and avocation--and the residence appear to be falling into place and connecting nicely. After years of up-in-the-air-edness, having a few things land is a relief.

Lord knows you have to land before you can take flight again. And I'm working on shrugging off all the dead weight in its many forms. I think I'm getting better at detecting it early and ejecting it.

WTF?

What kind of stupid-ass dipshits do we have in charge who can't figure out how to spend money on the people who desperately need it?

Oh, that's right. I guess crooked thieves aren't necessarily in the business of spending money.

Perhaps more importantly, why did it take the press nearly two years to get wind of it?