For Sunday Scribblings.

My goal is not to have one. For too long now, I have always scrurried along towards a better place than I currently was, often sliding backwards in the process. I am in the spring, summer, fall and winter of my discontent. It is always there. I need to stop focusing on a destination and focus more on the moment of now.

That is, drove with my mom out to the property that I want to buy. Funny, huh, how I want to buy property that is difficult for me to drive to? I asked her if she would drive me out there every day during the break so that I can get used to it. Today, I made it by telling myself, “These feelings are the result of a mere glitch in my brain, not because of any actual danger.” It worked. Once I got out there, I was fine. The drive back was fine as well. Here are some photos of the property, which is a beautiful wooded two acres with a cool (fixer-upper–HA) house on it.

This is the path driveway leading up to the house.

It is very beautiful, and Younger Son loved it. You turn to the right, and here is the house itself.

It is made of cinderblock and has a very heavy-duty metal roof on it. I have a good imagination, so I am able to imagine it as a wonderful space.

The inside has been spray-painted like crazy, and there is tons of junk on the floor. These are minor problems, actually. The bricks are old salvaged ones that are about 200 years old. I think it could be a really cool space. I like it better than the old fixer-upper.

So here is the weird story behind this property, which I can get for an unbelieveable 15K, all two acres of it. It belongs to Husband’s best friend, who built the house (along with Husband’s help) and who will owner-finance it for me. The weird part is that Husband is happily negotiating this transaction for me. For Younger Son and me, specifically. Not himself. He plans to continue living separately. He has told me that the stress of a family is too much for him. I am pretty certain that he has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and who knows, it could very well have been caused/exacerbated by stress. So. That is how things are. I feel okay with it, strangely enough, although I am very worried about him.

So the property is most likely going to be a done deal. I would buy it even if I could never drive out there again, simply for the investment. One acre of off-grid land here (and this one is on-grid) the same distance out costs at least 12K, and usually has more restrictions. That does not include structures or anything, so this is a steal. I almost feel guilty about how good of a deal it is. Oh, and the school district is a recognized, coveted district. That is nice. 4-H, here we come.

Tense Teacher totally stole my headline, “Thank Goodness It’s Over”, but I’ll forgive her. Having been preempted, I decided to just cut to the chase instead, which is, I really don’t care to do this again. Not like this. It is the same old thing–spending too much money and having too much stress. Now that I live in the same town as my family, it is not worth making a big fuss over in order to get together. Getting together over BBQ is more relaxing.

Lest you think it was a horrible day, it wasn’t. Well, other than the dubious start to the day when I discovered that Poopy Claus (the dog) had left a huge deposit on the bedroom floor and actually in my shoe. It really wasn’t fair, with the kids getting stuff in the their stockings and me getting crap in my shoe. Did Santa think I was from Finland, and was I really that bad this year? We also had a visit from Crip Claus, who left a blue bandana in the breezeway to indicate his presence. I threw that gift in the trash immediately.

I always do fight a sense of dread that comes from having had a beloved boyfriend die on Christmas which makes me want to speed through the day, with everyone coming out safe at the end. I try to get into the holiday, but the closer I get to the actual day, the more stressed out I tend to get. Still, we had a nice dinner, and everyone liked their presents, except for me. I think. Well, except for the talking book that Brother got for the kids that explains the solar systems and dinosaurs. Older Son politely refrained from commenting, a tribute to the wonderful mannerly upbringing that he has had.

Older Son let me off easy as Santa Parent. I didn’t realize quite how good I have had it until this year. Younger Son is showing signs of an all-consuming greed. He got more Bionicles than any one individual child should have, in addition to myriad other presents. He is still complaining that there was still more left on his list. Next year, I resolve to have him help me bake cookies for the homeless and concentrate on giving things away. I will let him ask for exactly one thing. This is ridiculous!

The photo depicts Younger Son putting together a complex Bionicle at 5 something in the morning.

Younger Son is not the only one who is greedy. I misunderstood my mother last month when (I thought) she mentioned that I was getting something for Christmas that I have wanted for YEARS. Everyone knows that I bake a LOT and that I have been craving a red Kitchenaid mixer for about ten years now. So, when I was handed a HUGE gift bag, I just knew what was in it! On the top were some cute kitty cat towels, surely a foil for what was to come! I dug deeper into the bag and came up with two cat calenders, a cat creamer with a nose like a pig, a wooden cat wearing a tie, and a pair of salt and pepper shakers. I felt five years old as I literally fought to keep the tears from my eyes! If I want the damn mixer, I will get it for myself. I have waited too long to be surprised with this particular gift!

So, having pretty much managed to have missed the entire point of the season, I decided that I want to opt out as much as is humanly possible next year. My mother feels the same way. She wants to take a trip somewhere where they don’t celebrate it. Heh.

Here is a photo of my happy family. Brother normally doesn’t look this demonic. It’s the camera. Dad is 6’2″. Now guess how tall Brother is! Older Son has a new haircut, courtesy of the lawyer stating that she will “not represent someone who looks like a drug addict”. Younger Son also has a new haircut, courtesy of Lice.

Older Son didn’t get me a present, due to general cluelessness and procrastination, and actually tried to give me money. I declined, and steered him towards Heifer International and instructed him to buy a family some baby chicks in my name. Yall know how I like chickens. This really got me to thinking, and as I try to figure out how to cleverly dispose of the myriad cat items that I do not want or need, I decided that next year, I will ask everyone not to get me anything, but to donate to this charity if they feel so inclined. That way, I don’t have any expectations of expensive mixers that I really don’t need or the experience of feeling the urge to “accidentally on purpose” drop an ugly pig-faced cat creamer. It appears to be quite fragile and would probably shatter brilliantly on the floor. But the shards…

NOT A MIXER…

I also might get to donate to charity instead of looking for presents that people really don’t want all that much anyway. If you think about it, it is ridiculous to stand in a store wondering what so and so wants when they already have everything plus the money to buy anything they might not have, while people are starving. I am disgusted with myself and the whole thing, yet I will critique the dinner anyway, thus continuing my snarkiness.

For dinner, we had a Chimera. It was a mixture of turkey, chicken and duck mishmashed into one hunk of odd-looking flesh. I may become a vegetarian. The green beans and mushrooms were delicious. I baked the pie. I stuffed my face with everything but the meat. Starving people would have loved the meat. I can be a picky fluffhead.

In accordance with the general strangeness of my life, I loaded up a plate for Husband, whose parents are in Germany, and met him at our house with it later in the day. Husband got me a lovely gift certificate for a highly recommended hair salon. This is really generous on his part, as he has heard me say that I am going to cut it ALL off. He doesn’t know if I am kidding or not, and he likes long hair. I especially liked the Baileys that he brought over as well. I got him enough expresso beans to give him a buzz for a year, as well as some pants that fit and a book on geocaching. Not too romantic, but well. More on that later. We are together, but it is one of those “let there be separateness in your togetherness gone amuck” type of relationships. We see each other for about five hours a week, and that is fine.

Oh Lordy. I am so glad the whole craziness is over, even though I was very fortunate, and the holiday was actually quite sane by most people’s standards. If anyone comes up with a clever way that they have opted out of the overspending, greedy kid-making Christmas, please let me know!

I hope you all had a good one!

Last night, I was reading an interview in Sojourners with James Loney, who is a Christian Peacemaker team member who was held captive in Iraq for four months. In the middle of the interview, something he said really resonated with me.

“I imagined that our daily task was to build a Palace of The Present Moment, a refuge from our 11-foot square, paint-peeling room of never-ending gloom.

This, I began to see, is what it means to be born again. The present moment was the birth canal of incarnation.”

I am changing that last sentence a bit to “The present moment is the birth canal of incarnation.” When I read it, I think reincarnation. Part of who I am right now, the part of me that is agoraphobic, is unacceptable. It is a part that fears what the future may hold and wants to control it. But we can’t can’t control the future–all we can do is accept the present. Therefore, it is the part that must change.

It’s difficult.

Sunday Scribblings