That’s how they say “hi” down here in Tejas. But the fact that we live in the Austin area affords us a little more flexibility. Around these parts, there are more Earth-Mama-Hippies and their male counter-parts, the mellow Bob Rosses of the eclectic kind. And I wouldn’t want to live Any. Where. Else. I love that I can walk into any public place around here and not be stared at, purses don’t get clutched just a little tighter, and children aren’t prevented from staring at me, lest I mug them at knife point in the parking lot. No, here, I can wear skirts, and not worry about the reactions my tattoos receive from stick in the mud old fogeys. That’s mean, I know, but I don’t even have a lot of work done, but I have noticed when I am up North, the old biddies tend to look down their noses over their glasses with their lips tightly pressed, before turning away quite deliberately.
Well, how’s that for a first entry in a new blog? Kinda bitchy, right? I hate to say it, but sometimes, that’s how I roll. I haven’t had a venting blog in awhile. Not that this is a venting blog. No, it’s a blog about my life, my awesome kids, my love, my friends, and the big blender in my head that whirls us all together. I love my life right now. I love where I live. Not just my house. But my neighborhood, my area, my town, and about 100 miles in any direction. I love my house. With all its “need-to-dos” and super tall grassy weeds. I love the half-finished projects scattered all around the driveway, surrounding the entrance to the garage. I love Tim’s Workshop, jam packed with nifty new tools and toys he is slowly but surely collecting, just waiting until he can have a separate building to house it all. I love our arbor that we got married under, one year ago tomorrow. I love and cherish every memory we have already forged in this home we’ve created with our beautiful, way too smart, creative, loving children. I love my chickens. I love how my pups bark at my cats until I say “hush”. I love that my house is messy, while we experiment out in the garage with metal and fire, and the kids ride up and down the driveway as Adler desperately tried to keep up, pushing a dilapidated baby stroller. I love seeing my friends pull up our driveway and the kids run to meet them, arms outstretched for hugs, excited squeals.
One thing and only one could make life any more perfect. But we all know what that is, so I choose to not dwell on it. I choose to smile and remember. To smile and imagine. To love and hope. Without hope, we are nothing. I look to the East, and watch the sunrise. I see it shining on their faces first, before it reaches mine. And knowing it has warmed them already, I let it warm my heart. I watch the sunset, the moon rise. And I remember. The first word, moon. Pulling tides, pulling hearts and energies. Reuniting them during unconscious reminiscent. I look to the moon, I send out my energy. Take it, I can get more. But take it, and use it to remember me by. Then I wake, to the feeling someone is watching me. A grin, a slobbery kiss. I wipe the tear from the corner of my eye, and gather him in my arms. He giggles, nestles up to me, and we are joined by another, and then one more. All warm and sleep-snuggly. They warm my heart and make it smile. They give me strength, remind me to love. Remind me to live. And I’m grateful for where I am.
Love.
