Oh my

I think I understand now why people keep journals, and swear they are cathartic. Here it is June, 2010, and I thought perhaps I should start this again, rather than let my thoughts swirl so wildly in a head too small to contain them. And I read through what I've posted over the years (years!), and I almost have nothing left to say. It's all here already.

So much has happened. There's now Calvin and Penelope, my new baby girl. There's now quite likely no more active farm. Or husband. But the way I feel is identical. Clearly, despite whatever reluctance, all this new change is good.

I was thinking as I was cleaning this morning (work that has always helped when I'm down, or at the least kept me occupied) that I haven't been this unhappy since a little over a dozen years ago. But oddly, that reminded me of other things, and signals I've been valiantly ignoring all this time. Like the winter I dragged poor Wilbur to Governor Dodge every Saturday and most Sundays too to hike or snowshoe just because I had to get out of here. And the day with the foot of new snow when we got so lost and exhausted, he practically pulled me out in the end.

So, time to get happy. Let's see how I do. Step one, get motorcycle fixed. Her predecessor (once known as the Bitch Demon), got me through a lot a dozen years ago. Reminded me of the magic of trees and grass and sky after years in New York. With two little ones, I can hardly spend hours riding as I used to, but just going to work and back (on some of the same roads I would ride back then), just might help. There's something to the thrill of the ride.