State of Grace

It's Friday - whaHOOO! Scott pulled more fresh trout out of the river for dinner again last night. (I've loved men for far less - he has my attention. Fully.) His mission today ("Babe, set the alarm for the crack of dawn, willya?") is to snag a couple of rat bastard steelheads. They're hard fish to catch - they're smart and the reason they're called steelheads is because their heads are so hard that the hook won't sink in, and they're fighters. Be interesting to see what lands in the cast iron tonight... ohhhhhhh fishies, today is a good day to fry.


I had a longish conversation with our dear Haute Bisquette last night. We're trying to come up with something marketable (my artwork, likely), a business plan, and a way out of our rather desultory careers. We're both good at what we currently do, but agree that there've got to be far better uses of our talent (both individually and combined) than what we're currently doing. If there's a human on the same intellectual playing field as me, it's probably HB (she will likely disagree, but too bad) - we have great balance in our relationship and would (will!) be excellent business partners. Plus, we're both at a good place in our respective lives to take some kind of leap. If not now, when?


It all has me thinking (as if I ever stop). Things in my life happen when they're supposed to and how they're supposed to. That is, the right things happen in my life - they're not always good, they're not always easy, but they're right. It's something I've never questioned and probably a reason that I don't easily freak out about things. The right person is always there, or the right moment, or the right element. My life has been and is graced. It's something that I've come to recognize in the past few months and something that I've come to... um... hmmm... to not only appreciate, but respect. I owe much to the Universe. (To whom much is given, much is required, no?) Recognition of that is both an asset and a detriment (for me), because while it drives me it also makes me think, "How the hell am I ever gonna....?"


And then it revolves back around to my Dad. Dad's been on my mind a lot lately anyway, between my new home in a place of natural beauty that he'd revel in, the crisp clear Autumn days - a love of which we share, all the talk about fishing (Dad was in his element when he'd fish), and... lots of things. I've begun to realize that of all of his children, I'm probably the most Harold-ish of them all. I'm following a trail of ghostly breadcrumbs... groundwork that he laid but never followed himself. Dad loved the outdoors and the other day as I stood on the porch looking down to the river, watching Nino rock hop and Scott fling a line in the water, I thought, "Oh Daddy... I'm living in a place you would have loved, a place that is so much more akin to who you really were." Artistically too... there is so so so much inside me that needs to get out, that needs expression and release. I can't get enough of it out of me, mostly because of time constraints, but also because there's just so much I want to do. I think that was a Harold thing too. I think he had this same rush of creativity burning inside him (no, I know he did), but he squelched it. He drank it down. Oh, Daddoo... if only you could have found the freedom I feel. I'm so sorry. So, I want to do it all honor. I want to use what I have. It's a gift that was given to me long ago and I'd be a lesser being if I turned a recalcitrant back on it all. I told HB, "I refuse to die wondering."


Well. Pardon my introspective meandering. Further proof that I don't always know where my ramblings here will take me (or you), and that they're often my self-analyzing way out of a bog. And you thought you were just here for the cheap entertainment. Didn't anyone ever tell you? Ain't nothin' cheap in this life. She go da way she go n' we here for da dance. Boogie on, fellow travelers. Boogie on.