Maybe This Year…

Something I’ve always considered but never done…go to an Overland event. Now, it isn’t as though I have a fancy bouldering vehicle or even desire. What I do have is a wish to know how to get a vehicle into back country without getting mired – or, if you do, how to get de-mired. Safely.

May 17-19, 2019 for Overland Expo WEST
at Ft. Tuthill County Park, Flagstaff, Arizona

Is this the year? I’m not sure. The months will fly by, after all. And it seems a frivolous consideration in the middle of my…desperation…but I have been trying to find things that I’d like to do as a way to keep myself motivated. Besides, maybe I’ll wind up in Wyoming one day, anyway. No, I didn’t get an interview for the job. I sort of left it to the fates on that one so I wasn’t terribly surprised. But I did send a nice thank you note because You Never Know.

The day was amazing – 72 degrees, breezy but…stunning. I cleaned the pool while the weather was mild. The wind is gusting, now, but that was expected. Still, I actually sat in my swing and let the sun bake my back. I haven’t had the heart to even look at it, recently. As time passes so does my clinging to this place. I have reminded myself that it was mine only for a small space of time – it can be someone else’s everything, now.

I bought the goods to do the maintenance on my vehicle – today would have been a nice day for it but gusting wind and oil changes are sometimes incompatible. Time for the fuel filters, too. And I bought front brakes just in case as I think the one side is starting to cling a bit. If not needed I can return them easily enough. I can do those myself, usually – it has been awhile but I bet I manage. He has said he will do the other things early Saturday before he leaves. Then the wheels get rotated and she is all set for the winter. I usually put new wiper blades on, too, but I think they’re still good.

It is strange to be moving back into my former self where I just noted what needed done and got it managed somehow. It isn’t rocket science. And I am reminded that if I had started my diesel mechanic degree way back when I retired that I could command one hell of a salary about now. So it goes…you think you have time, you know? Anyway, I also looked up the part for the mirror housing that got smashed by the gate. Need that replaced before the weather gets in the circuit boards and turns the fancy mirror into a manual set it and forget it one. Not the end of the world, no. But I like things to be the way they ought to be.

I’ve been waking at 4am almost every day and forcing myself to sleep again. I wonder if I ought to just start getting up. Once I start working it might be good to have that extra hour to just get my soul started instead of the mad rush. You see, even in this I am trying to be positive. I have been fighting very hard to remain in that way of thinking – the house will sell, I will have enough to start over, and a good job will be mine. The alternative was killing me, emotionally. It still has a siren song of defeat playing in the background but I try very hard to just get my rest, take care to keep the house in good shape, and try to check off all the last boxes before he saddles up and hits the trail.

If there is a bright side…the new residence has offered him a portion of a large building to store his things so perhaps all the goodness acquired over the years can be retained and not sold too cheap. And his motorcycle can go in there which will help a lot if I have to use the garage for a time to house things as I move them…wherever…

Having no home in mind is a harrowing thing. I try to meditate on it as they say to do – to think of the perfect place and fill it with my things. But I have no idea where or what I can afford. So I just…store little snippets of what might be nice and let it go at that. I look out my window at the view, the one that I enjoyed for so long, and wonder how many more days it will be mine. And will I remember it as it is or will it get gilded and lit with a kinder light later?

Now, I just want to watch the tall blonde grass wave like an ocean in the gale outside. Soon the setting sun will set it all on fire with its light. And a part of me turns the color to flame, letting it all burn behind me as one did with ships on a foreign shore. No return, mates. No return.

The Cold Inside and Out

The house is officially for sale, now, the torment of the photos done, and all the work that it took to manage that over. Now it is the waiting – for the call that says load you and the dogs and get out so strangers can wander around. None have called yet but then it was a torrential downpour so…maybe next week. I was surprised to have no call thus far today. I do think there are drive-by’s – people slow down and look. I wonder if it perturbs them to see me at the table…

So I sit with a constant anxiety about having to launch. Every bit of the house constantly kept in a semblance of order. Of course, the dog fur is a constant so I have to continually wipe it up. Imagine living in your home but having to keep it like a museum relic. No smells of cookery, no thing that says You left out. No dishes left in a sink, or spots on your counter. For someone like me this is a trial. I am very private – I don’t want anyone here. And I am not a good housekeeper – I manage but I am not meticulous. This demands that I am meticulous constantly. And everytime you think you have everything in hand you see something that isn’t right and have to fix it. Like going into the master bath that you thought was all clean and finding he left it less than spotless. Thank goodness I took a shower and noted it. That too, a matter of timing – you have to take care of all your ablutions early and then remove evidence of same. It is a wonder people manage it. And it goes a long way to explain how some home photos are full of stuff and things. I have more mercy on them, now.

Still not a single job call, even the retail ones. They know, of course, that you don’t intend to stay any longer than it takes to get a better job so why waste time on training you. It is a blow to my ego to have had not a single inquiry, though. A friend might be able to get me lined up for a very good role that would allow for more growth than my old one. It is the one that I hope comes through but that won’t be until February. What until then?! How to manage it all? And there is the job in Wyoming that a part of me yearns for – a complete do-over, leaving behind everything familiar. No safety net. But that is a terrifying prospect, too.

So I sit here hours a day, looking for roles, customizing submissions, waiting to hear anything when I know that not a damned thing happens in Nov/Dec. How he thought this was a great time to put me in this position I have no idea. He is oblivious to the regular working world and how it functions. If he’d told me in June I might be all set. Or if he’d been able to keep his shit together through March. But now he intends to leave entirely mid-month and what then? Who to help me move my things if the impossible happens and I actually am able to go? How do people do this?! How did I do it before? I wish I could remember – there was a big house in Georgia and I moved across Atlanta to a different house. Did I hire someone? I don’t remember at all. I must have – there must have been a truck and assistance. I cannot think of any other way I managed it. But I was, of course, in the same state of mind and that is probably why it is a mystery – blocked out as a kind of self-preservation. The mind will do whatever it has to in order to ensure survival. But that intelligence would be nice right about now.

I think a lot about taking most of the stuff from the pod and selling it, loading bed and dresser, chair and lamp, and just sending it away. I ought to have sold most of my yarn – it was a ridiculous thing to consider keeping. Bag after bag of it. Had I only known and had enough time…but this is all forced on me and I don’t know what I could have done.

Now the weather, oh so very cold these last few days, looks to be ready to take the partly cloudy day and turn it dark and damp again. Maybe it will hold…and add to all the travail a dog who managed to cut a paw pad. Bad enough for the vet? I don’t know yet. I think it will be okay but…I can’t afford for it to not be okay. So I will wait and see if it heals a bit.

Everything just seems to be against me and I wonder why I am being pushed so…is fate trying to shove me to a decision, to a destination? I cannot manage more. I hope it all just stops and lets me breathe for a time. I know it won’t – it is a fruitless wish. But I am so very tired, now. All I want is to rest and get my mind right again. To be able to use it properly instead of this scattered coherence bordered at odd angles with so many stripes of fear.

How could he not know how terrible this would be and at least be willing to be present until I was safely off? What kind of man does that? I know it happens and much worse to many women. Imagine having children…but I was so certain he was something different and now…this utter abandonment to fate with only a roof as a parting gift…insane. Just insane to consider I was so wrong. I might have expected betrayal – all men are subject to it – but abandonment? Never. I wouldn’t do it to my worst enemy. But then I have seen the terrible side of life – the hopeless aspect. I could never do that to someone. I guess that is why I never expected it would be done to me. A failure of imagination.

Jester, the True King

The universe mocks me.

Last night I had a call from the daughter of that father-in-law to whom I just made myself a supplicant. The card sent too late. He may have had a stroke, or she may have dosed him – I would not put it past her and the tone of mild pleasure in her voice made me wonder.

He will go to the nursing home that his wife is now in. That avenue is closed. And the poor man…a godly man who will be left to his own wits in a system geared to keep them stoned and passive. I asked her if she would get him his phone charging cable and she was noncommittal. Having committed him her work is done. In a few days she will howl with laughter over my sad tale as she opens his mail – if she even bothers to fetch it. Poor man.


Jester, oh Jester
Why do you wake me so?

For I want to travel far away
To a place you will never know.