New Look

Fickle woman I am...there is an inherent compulsion in me to rearrange sofas, furniture, and apparently the blog, from time to time. I'm dabbling in the unknown -- web tinkering -- though I hardly have any spare time. I tried for a new look. Not sure yet if I like it or if it will be subjected to yet another rearrangement compulsion in days to come. I tried for colors that would harmonize a bit with the header graphic, and most of my tries came out looking like an electric pumpkin montage. Ah, well, like some haircuts, ya just don't know how much you REALLY like it till the next morning.

And so, this blog shall endure scrutiny on The Morning After, and we'll see if the edits survive. If it all is in black and white tomorrow, you'll know it was a bit too Something, and got axed.

I'm stalling. I have "blog homework" to do. I'm so deliquent on thanks and acknowledgements, and on blogrolls and continuing research. I've been stubbornly relaxing...MINDLESSLY...since the ending of the 911 job. I've not had a haircut, deep-cleaned my house, baked bread, or tidied up the exterior landscaping (read "weedeat the tree-sized weeds") at all since I started that job in June. It ate my life...the only time I had here at home was to sleep, and to cram. I hope I can use those skills (for which I continually crammed) someday in some other capacity. I just completed another course for another license. Yes, I just can't stop! (laughing) Today I went and applied for the license and have a temporary one, and am now employable in yet another field. I joked with my husband that I should just keep on getting miscellaneous licenses for things I never intended to do so that I'm the most qualified person out there....for SOMETHING.

Maybe I'm old or maybe the lobe of my brain responsible for creativity and reflection is beginning to atrophy, but I just want to GET ON WITH moving to some land...NOW. Until then, everything is in a holding pattern.

Whine, whine :)

Or I can just be one of those women who decide (surely they DECIDE...) to wear strangely-coordinated mismatched clothing, open-toed sandals, long hair with beads and ribbons plaited here and there, and ankle bells...and making the most fabulous pottery, paintings, sculptures, and weavings ever. I WAS an art major, way back in the day, after all. The paintbrushes are likely rusted now. Or I'll go away to a writer's workshop and drink herb teas or exotic coffees and meet fascinating people and then hole up and write, write, write. Or I'll go to a poetry slam. Or I'll go to a horse farm and offer to shovel out stalls for free just to be near those creatures I love.

I MUST have a chicken SOON. Can anyone relate to this waiting sort of funk? I'll get over it...maybe :) In the meantime, the blog gets dustier, as does the house, and I'm tearing through as many books as possible. Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle was the latest smorgasbord of reading pleasure, as was Logan Ward's See You in a Hundred Years. Have I done a single book review here? Nope. It's that sort of funk.

I know what this is all about, or at least partially. I'm job hunting again this week, and am gearing up to do another job to help Get Us There. Were this a teaching, writing, gardening, or animal husbandry type of position, I'd be jazzed. As it is, I'm embracing my last few minutes of Homebodiness tenaciously.

And the post-crastination here continues. Hmmmm...

Hopefullly this will blow over. There are many serious planning considerations rolling onwards in conversation with my husband whenever we have time together these days. We've narrowed things down and are still hot on the trail of Some Land To Be Had. This week we have a day set aside for taking a day trip to do some more hunting. FUN :) :) That'll fuel me for a while :)

Hope to return here in a bit, after satisfying my nesting urge, and possibly even scrubbing the kitchen.

(We'll see about that last bit, ha!)

I'd better get a haircut tomorrow. That has a way of either giving me a shot in the arm, or hurling me to the brink of despair (depending on the skill of the hairdresser and the level of drasticity--is that a word??--of the cut). If the hair still qualifies as "long" when I return and total strangers don't whisper and point as I walk by, I'll consider it a success.

Then I'll be more in the mood to be worth my salt in blogland, and possibly as procrastinating weed whacker and floor mopper, woo hooo!

I shall be back...blogroll is SO delinquent, and there are so many new ones I've been enjoying...I owe 'em bigtime!


Off to nest...and the other stuff, perhaps :)