Let me see….I have had quite the morning, and the afternoon is going to pot quickly. I had my 55,000 mile tune up this morning, and have been referred to my Primary Torturer’s favorite Ear Torturist for a second opinion on my ear.
On the way home, at a big intersection, a police car was in the middle, with lights flashing and the siren a blaring. I was slowing down because I had to…the lane I was in, was a merging lane, so mostly it is a rolling stop. I became confused as to where the heck the siren was coming from because I can’t hear out of one ear and it throws me off. The car in front of me abruptly stopped. And…..yeah, we had a little fender bump. No damage to either car, he said no problem, and off I went to the grocery store, where I mindlessly dumped my 50-pound hand bag on top of the bread.
In order to change my karma, I’m going to change the direction of my post. Something saved me from a major fender smasher, and don’t tell anyone—but I replaced the bread for an unsquished loaf.
I have typed out quite a few of whiny-get-things-off-my-chest unpublished posts in the last couple of days, but I’m going to go with a nice post. A post to bring my thoughts to what is really important.
Not that I’m always paying attention, but I believe that all things are connected. We are all connected to each other. The earth, stars, humans—all connected. Okay, I’m not going to get into a philosophical conversation because–well, I don’t think I can write what I’m really feeling, and do it any justice. I’m hoping someone will “get” what I’m referring to.
My father-in-law’s place—the one I have been blogging about recently—sits on 7 acres in the middle of nowhere. I have always dreamed of living in a small town, but my dream also included living IN the small town in a hundred year old home, with two stories, and a white picket fence. Not a home in the outskirts, of the outskirts, of town.
Even though I believe that I can write about my feelings with much more clarity than I can while speaking, it’s hard to explain how warm and fuzzy it makes me feel to see my husband so happy. When he is at his father’s house, the one his father built 18 years ago with his own sweat and carpentry skills, my husband is a different person.
On our first morning at my father-in-law’s house to prepare the home for sale, or to decide whether or not we want to live there, this is what I saw from the kitchen window.
Later in the day, I sat in the quiet seclusion of the backyard. While rubbing my aching feet, I felt at home. Our current home has a backyard sanctuary, but I can still see the backyards of two neighbors. My father-in-law’s backyard is surrounded by nature–my favorite place to be.
On the anniversary of our 26th year of marriage, we realized that we began our married life in a home we rented from my dad. He didn’t build the house, but he remodeled it in the 1960’s while I tagged along behind him.
As an old married couple, we are hoping to live the rest of our lives, in the home built by my husband’s father.
That is, until we are placed in the old fart’s home–which after the week we spent there, my body feels like we are headed there soon. 😀
Those rays? They were a sign to me, that all will be well. I may not learn to plant a garden, and I definitely won’t be taking up canning vegetables, but I do believe I would be happy there. We met quite a few neighbors and town folk, and they are wonderful people.
It is a very beautiful home and location, but the most beautiful part, is the look in the eyes of my husband.
Hoping y’all’er looking for something beautiful today.