It’s Thanksgiving today so I thought I’d share something more uplifting and save what has been looking like the blog of death lately, for another day.
Time to shift gears and embrace the changes. Yes, despite the fallen leaves which gave way to flurries of that familiar white stuff here in the high country, this holiday is what truly denotes the change of seasons for me.
A new year is around the corner, I’m rounding third with my home and heart remodel and life is good. My Purple Door Restore project has approached the point at which I can start picking out drapes and decor. I’ve lived in sawdust for most of the past six months–not something I could endure much longer–so I’m happy to say that the essentials are finished and the trim around a couple of windows can wait. Point is, I’m making flap jacks on a regular basis and you can visit now without the need for a hard hat–all orange cones have been removed along with the port-a-potty. I have a real house again and I couldn’t be more pleased with the way the vision came together.
Every day something looks different and even the photos here don’t show the current improvements fully but you get the idea. It’s like a metaphor for my life. The more I poke and paint with hammers and brushes, the better I feel– and I know inside that I made the right choice to come home to the mountains.
Yes, in the past few years I’ve lost my dogs, my parents, a wife, a job and the ability to see both my feet at the same time; and sure, I have no family to cook for any more, but I have more chosen family than anyone should deserve and I’m deeply blessed to be where I am today, doing exactly what I want.
I’ve come to call this past six months, The Relocate and Remodel diet. Forget the new roof, sunroom, kitchen, bath and laundry remodeling I’ve done, I’ve also synched up four notches in my belt–you can almost say I have an outtie again and yup, I see them feet side by side now.
My entire life has been renovated it seems. To think, just a couple of years ago I was diagnosed with chronic migraines, depressed in a dead-end thankless job (fuck the dental plan people) and was even at one point diagnosed with a near fatal thrombosis in my head. A couple of quack quacks from the doc later, it turns out I was just not happy. I was simply being given a depressive dose of angst every day as I’d wake and look out the window overlooking the heart of downtown Browntown–seeing nothing but a sign which flashed “Powell Drug, Powell Drug, Powell Drug …” Yes, the dreaded I.P.S. … Irritable Powell Syndrome.
When you’re not where you should be, stuck as it were in a situation, a job, a place that doesn’t feel right, it’s like a slow drip of opiate gravy right into your ass, congealing you to your seat. I have a brother who’s been bed-ridden most of the past decade due to excess gravy consumption and believe me, the etherial chipped beef is just as life-clogging.
But enough of that … I know life is full of cycles and seasons and I’m just happy that this Thanksgiving, unlike many in recent years, I truly am thankful for something. I think there’s enough pressure on us all to be happy just because a certain day is circled on the calendar.
So, finally I’m thankful that I don’t have to fake a laugh or a backflip. I’m thankful that I’ve found happiness in following my heart and not the urgings of another. I’m thankful that I’m happy being alone and I’m certain all my ex’s are happy I’m not basting their turkey today. I suck at relationships and hate to baste things–that little bubble thingy always tries to put my eye out.
Cheers friends, happy day to you and yours. I hope, even if it’s serendipitous, that today is truly a day of thanks.