Long Slow Journey


Into the night.

Ah, I dramatize a little bit.  Which is a good reminder, to remember that this too shall pass.

I am in the beginning of a long six-day stretch at work.  I could look at it with annoyance and I have, believe me I have, or I can look at it as a way of getting to be able to do what I want to do next weekend–go to Fred and Heather’s Wedding!

Yes.

I will be getting a City Car Share and driving up to Glen Ellen for the nuptials, and I get to have a three day weekend.  I will be in much need of it.  Six days on, one day off, five days on.  Then the wedding.

I got to see Fred this evening, he was looking dapper.  I suspect prepping for the day and getting all the ducks in a row.  I can’t even imagine how busy Heather must be.

I can’t imagine planning a wedding.

I mean I can, what girl doesn’t?  But the reality of it has got to be quite different from the fantasy, which is what I do, fantasize.

Not that there has been much to fantasize about as far as the gentlemen are concerned.  Although, I am trying something new in the morning meditation.  I am meditating on what my sexual ideal is.

Now that is a different one.

It is a suggestion I have not had before and I am liking it.  I am taking every morning this week to do so and then writing down what comes up when I finish.

Most of the time it is gobbedly gook.  But once in a while something comes through.  I have gotten a few things, but the one that happens the most is carpenter.

Or wood worker, or wood shop.

I smell wood burning or being shaved down.  I smell wood chips and saw dust.  And I feel warmth.  Like being in a stable on a sunny day or a work shop in a bright space with a fireplace.

Now, I love the way wood smells burning, it is my favorite smell.  It is evocative of so much for me.  Child hood memories, adult memories, bonfires, fireplace at my grandparents home, wood burning stoves.  There is a cheerful kind of warmth to it.

A wintry warmth.  Or a fall warmth.  Hot cider, leaves, clean brisk air, wood smoke.

So, apparently my ideal works with his hands.

Now the point is not to actually get the ideal–I have thought that before.  Ok, so if I do the suggested writing, poof!  I will have a date.

I tend toward magical thinking at times.

The point, or so I have been told, is to grow toward the ideal.  As in the last time I wrote one I had down physically fit–not being physically fit myself, I got to work toward that goal, amongst other things.

After two days of meditating on my current ideal I have only gotten the idea that I should look at taking a wood shop class?

Maybe it’s from growing up in the Midwest, but I am tending to think that I want some one who is less cerebral and more hands on.  I am a thinker.  I don’t always want to be or need to be and I will try to figure things out till the cows come home.

Just re-confirming for you the ‘I am from Wisconsin’ bit.

I like the idea of some one who is good with their hands.

I am not particularly, nor do I actually have a huge desire to be, well, dexterity is nice, but I am not aiming toward suddenly wielding a jigsaw.  I just really admire people who are.  Skills like carpentry and building rather amaze me.  I am a little in awe of people who know how to build things.  I like playing with blocks, but I cannot fathom what it would take to build a house.

How do you even get into something like that?  I rather imagine that it is a family trade or a talented passed down generationally.

Not much got passed down in my family–abuse, alcoholism, drug addiction, low self-esteem, poverty–not exactly tools to build a successful life on.

Then again, I have made a pretty fair exchange with those gifts, and I do think of them as gifts now, as I appreciate so much what I have and of how far I have come.  I have a stunning amount, really, when I look at things with perspective.

I certainly have all I need.

I also, took a small positive step forward with my writing.  I down loaded Word for MAC onto my computer so that I may do some formatting work on my book.  When I had my laptop repaired I lost the formatting.  I thought I had a back up on-line, I did not.

So, I will re-do that.  I actually have that as a kind of quiet goal.  Get all my books formatted before I move to Paris.

I want to take as little as possible.  I don’t want to take the notebooks with my rough drafts in them.  This means that I have to get the manuscripts written and typed.

I have not looked over those manuscripts in six years.

Six!

I really am taking little with me.  I will gather as I go.

I am actually debating not taking my bike either.  I am thinking I may sell it.  I’m weighing the pros and cons of shipping it versus selling it and either hoofing it while I’m there or using their public bike system.

And of course the Metro is really fabulous and easy to use too.

I bumped into Barnaby unexpectedly tonight, he was back from the long weekend and a visit to his mum.  We will be meeting up tomorrow night and having a sit down cuppa tea.

We have not actually had the chance to just sit and chat about details yet.  It has been a I’ll see you here, I’ll see you there rather hit and miss.

I haven’t been too worried, I know I’m going, but it will be nice to get more details.  Like when he’s going to be there and when it would be a good idea to buy a ticket over.

I feel good about this, not too excited, just simply doing some information gathering.

A little step forward and down the cobblestone road.

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