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January 2013

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cowgirl up

"This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful life!"

(title shamelessly lifted from the Talking Heads)


Y'know, it's funny.

The way life turns out - pushing you down a path you hadn't imagined travelling, pausing occasionally to allow you to look around and wonder, "how did I get HERE?"

Not that "HERE" is a bad place - absolutely the opposite: I can't imagine loving a life more than the one I'm living. But it has to be said ... not once, when picturing my "grown-up" life, did I think wistfully,

"I'll bet when I'm 41 I'll be a wife and a mom living on 300 acres of a pecan farm (I didn't yet know of my allergy to pecan tree mold ) watching the love of my life drive a tractor baling hay;

and ...


... on the 12th birthday of that first baby boy, I'll end the day listening to the sweet sound of our rescued mutt barking his fool fucking head off while my handsome husband sweats like a stuck pig trying to tease a goddamned rat snake off the corner of the patio with a creased tension curtain rod.

(When he stuck his head out to check storm clouds and quickly slammed the patio doors while dramatically saying, "Do NOT go out there; don't come to the doors or look out the window. Trust me," I knew he could only be referring to a snake, my absolute mortal enemy/#1 phobia of all time.)

(still dreamily)
Yep, that'd be sweet."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why, you may ask, did I not grow up with that glorious vision of my future? After all, I grew up in this small Oklahoma town - I know this country, these people, all the tics and foibles of small-town life. I lived it, I tolerated it, and I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of it. I never dated the country boys, riding shotgun on their daddies' tractors while they baled hay all summer - why get attached when I leaving as fast as possible?

OK, so getting out took the form of baby steps rather than grand gestures: I went to college in-state, but I DID go to the biggest one (OU) at least. And I majored in Advertising - the most glamorous career I could imagine. I've always loved to write, and at OU the Advertising dept is in the Journalism school (rather than being lumped into the business/marketing curriculum where I would have been required to take horrendously difficult classes like Econ 101. Not a math genius, I.)

I lovedlovedloved college, and I obsessed about moving to Dallas the minute I graduated; c'mon, it's not like advertising jobs are plentiful in Oklahoma! Even more than the plethora of jobs I assumed would be waiting in Dallas, I craved the city. To the extent that my roommate and I would spend every weekend possible partying in Dallas, racking up the miles (and the speeding tickets) on I-35, dating pretty rocker boys in Deep Ellum bands, copping a completely obnoxious attitude about having to be in NORMAN during the week - we were counting the days 'til freedom.

Newly B. S.ed, I made a pitstop back here in my hometown to pack up the rest of my life, and hauled ass out of this state. I already had a detailed vision of the oh-so-fabulous life awaiting me: it was gonna be all "Mad Men," all the time (to use my newest obsession as the perfect example) - only I would be playing the part of Don Draper, not the perfect housewife. I would be the one schmoozing clients, enjoying liquid lunches, coming up with the big ideas and making the big deals. And for a while, I WAS.

A coupla different agencies, big-name clients, fun co-workers - I was rockin' the career. And being young (and stupid), I was partying like never before - hey, I had a paycheck to spend! I was Demi Moore in "St. Elmo's Fire!" All I needed now was the boy, the "OMG I'll die without him" love of my life. And there he was.

I didn't fall for him, we collided head-on - even told my best friend "I'm gonna marry that guy!" the moment I saw him. On stage, in his leather pants, long hair and makeup, singing The Stones just for me; I was too young to realize this boy was everything I was ever going to want or need - I just knew that I had to have him RIGHT THEN AND THERE. I honestly think I was as surprised as everyone else when we got married three years later: in the church of my youth, right here in my hometown.

From that moment, life ran in fast-forward: first house, first baby boy, I turned 30 and the last place I wanted to be was at work with the cool kids. Scott cut his hair, went back to college, and we woke one day to discover we were grown-ups. That's some scary shit, yo. Suddenly the idea of moving home to that same small town (mine; his was in Alabama) felt more like salvation than a sentence. Y'all know that moment: when "good schools, affordable housing, no traffic" become bigger selling points than great restaurants and amazing nightlife. (I'll never stop missing the incredible shopping, tho - thank God for www.)

I've always been told time moves faster the older you get, but it's strange how you don't fully "get" that concept until you slow down enough one day (about the time you hit 40, ha!) to truly appreciate how much time has passed while you've been living your life. Where did my second boy's babyhood go? When did I get too old to wear a miniskirt? (Don't answer that, y'all.) How in the hell did I spend four years building my dream house, but it feels like I've lived here forever? None of the realities of my life feel possible when my mental picture of myself is stuck somewhere around age 28. (That God for the twins, delusion and denial!)

Yet somehow, I'm standing here 20 years older (in a U2 tshirt at least that old), living on a farm in my lil hometown, giggling at the sight of Scott doing battle with that fucking snake while our mutt is trying valiantly to protect him, and I am absolutely certain that HERE - this life - is exactly where I'm supposed to be.

'Course, that's not to say it doesn't still occasionally shock the shit out of me, or that it ever stops being funny - y'know, the way life goes.


 

Comments

I like this entry a lot. I love when people are so happy and contented, it's just a beautiful and infectiously awesome thing :D
Thank you - you are actually MY role model a lot of the time! (It's a "researching poly" thing, more later.)

I'm afraid I may have posted this to my friends list twice - did it show up twice for you? If so, I'm truly sorry!
It did! But that's okay! It's awesome enough I'll read it twice :)

Oh, yay!! That's nice to hear, thank you! <3
You go, girl! Congrats on making it to the good life, your words have painted a marvelous picture. Hang onto it and enjoy it and may you always stay blessed. And serve as a model of contentment for the rest of us to aspire to!

and i....

and i owe you a care package and an apology...
Ive been busy having been...(technically fired) and looking for lucrative employ for several months; while second-jobbing it as a pizza-delivery-girl. Wooof!
Expect mailage, soon!

Re: and i....

Darlin', you've lost me - you can't possibly owe me a care package and/or an apology ... if so, my 40+ yr old memory is getting worse by the minute! Honestly, I can't think of a single person who owes me an apology for anything so if you're convinced you do, consider yourself officially forgiven! Good luck on the job search, don't you worry about anything else except getting your life back to (semi)normal. That's certainly the best I can hope for these days!

LOVE.

Ah, home. *warm wet kisses*