Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
3 years ago
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday Evening
At 6:52p.m. and I am in comfy pants. There is a fire in the woodstove and my husband (oh husband!) has gone to get ice with which to make me a drink (or maybe two...). And even though I overslept today, and sort of feel like the only thing that could make me feel right again would be to sleep for a good 15 hours straight (oh sleep!)- I'm thanking God, and Oprah, and the universe, and all the little fishies in all the big seas that this craptastic day is happening right here, and not anywhere else.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Starting a new life
hello from Vermont! Boy, have I missing you, internet. John finally figured out how to access the wireless here last night, and I feel so much better now.
But really, how do you describe feeling better than the best you've felt in years? Because the best I've felt in years, that is about how I would describe being here.
The sun is shining on the beautiful huge porch just to my left out the window, John is cooking here in the warm, comfortable kitchen with me, I'm sitting here with a bunch of flowers in an antique glass pitcher on the table with me, my cat is sleeping in the fading sunlight on the floor. There is zero stress here.
There have been so many things I've wanted to blog about since I've been here- funny things and amazing things like how much I love my job, like the bearded man from next door who walks his big yellow dog at 7a.m. while carrying a huge fluffy orange cat in his arms-- just because the cat likes to be outdoors. Like the Montgomery Variety Show, which really just defies explanation in it's awesome weirdness. Like how relaxed both John and I are in this place that is just love and peace incarnate. Like building fires in the old antique woodstove and taking my first bath ever in an honest to god clawfoot tub. Like friendly ghosts (I hope). Like two weeks with no cell service and no internet. Like green grass under snow and tulips peeking out. Like being able to see the stars and breathe the air and feel it in my body that this is home.
There is so much to report that I feel like no one post could do it justice, so I'll stop here. There's a margarita calling my name anyway. I wish everyone sunshine, stress-free, Vermont margaritas. Just stop by, I'll share.
But really, how do you describe feeling better than the best you've felt in years? Because the best I've felt in years, that is about how I would describe being here.
The sun is shining on the beautiful huge porch just to my left out the window, John is cooking here in the warm, comfortable kitchen with me, I'm sitting here with a bunch of flowers in an antique glass pitcher on the table with me, my cat is sleeping in the fading sunlight on the floor. There is zero stress here.
There have been so many things I've wanted to blog about since I've been here- funny things and amazing things like how much I love my job, like the bearded man from next door who walks his big yellow dog at 7a.m. while carrying a huge fluffy orange cat in his arms-- just because the cat likes to be outdoors. Like the Montgomery Variety Show, which really just defies explanation in it's awesome weirdness. Like how relaxed both John and I are in this place that is just love and peace incarnate. Like building fires in the old antique woodstove and taking my first bath ever in an honest to god clawfoot tub. Like friendly ghosts (I hope). Like two weeks with no cell service and no internet. Like green grass under snow and tulips peeking out. Like being able to see the stars and breathe the air and feel it in my body that this is home.
There is so much to report that I feel like no one post could do it justice, so I'll stop here. There's a margarita calling my name anyway. I wish everyone sunshine, stress-free, Vermont margaritas. Just stop by, I'll share.
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