Monday, February 29, 2016

No I'm Not Having A Breakdown

I am not having a breakdown, but I am having something, I know that for sure. I want change, but have gotten stale in my desire to take chances. Perhaps it all has to do with my damn hip issues. But I am working on getting myself up and moving again, my hip replacement surgery (this time for the right hip - the left hip was replaced in May) scheduled for this April. Yikes, Déjà vu. Been there, done that, got a T-shirt. Who the hell wants to do it again? But if I don't I will forever be walking on my cane, popping pain meds, and overall feeling handicapped.

I watch everyone, watch how they move, and want to move freely, too. It has been almost two years that my hips and I have done this dance. And not the type of dancing I like. Although, I have to admit, in the aftermaths of my last surgery, dancing to Bruno Mars Uptown Funk on my walker was exhilarating.

I wonder what craziness will follow. I looked at a house in a quaint little town over the weekend. My desire to move to an old house on a small parcel of land, and I mean old house, one older than I am, is constant. Life plays tricks on me, I feel content, and so I abandon this dream because I am having fun in town, close to my friends. The feeling of contentment lasts a few months, and then I am back to my dreams of finding, not Mr. Right, but the Right House. (Mr. Right has been gone now almost eight years.) The old age thing that bothers me, is when will it be to late to move? The drive after exiting the freeway was full of pastures with cows, for heaven's sake. COWS. Black and white, hundreds of them, grazing in fields. Charming. Could I look at cows on my drive rather than all the traffic and buildings surrounding me now? Perhaps. My farm fantasy is bigger than any man fantasy. Men fantasies: Been there, done that, got a T-shirt. But I've never had a farm. I've never had a Victorian cottage.

Every year, the same thought, I should move, change, be daring. Every year something holds me back. What does the universe have planned for me. I do believe this period of my hip issues is for a larger issue. Giving me time for the next big chapter. I'd have already made some sort of a move if I could physically move better. I know I am in a growing, discovery period, but, enough already. I need something more.

Being grateful is important in life, and I am happy, thankful, and grateful, I never doubt for a minute I am blessed. My question is this. At what point does being grateful keep you from moving forward? Change is growth. There is always a cliché for every thought. This one: Bloom where you are planted. I'm blooming. I need to be repotted, perhaps.

So, Saturday night, after a glorious day in the country, I am back in my hood with a friend, eating dinner, watching younger folks dancing to old rock music.  Tapping my feet to the beat, and drinking wine, I think about my upcoming birthday in August. If things go as planned, I will be dancing on the floor, not moving to the music at my table. A young woman was dancing that evening, and I want to be like her, at least, bolder in my dress like her. Wearing a dark Fedora, a blazer, short skirt, black tights and tennis shoes, she danced a few minutes with her wine glass and then vanished into the night.

My sixty-fifth birthday I was wearing a straw Fedora at a Steppenwolf concert at a Harley Davidson dealership. That photo is my current avatar here. I don't see why I can't update to a black Fedora for my sixty-eighth birthday. That, and a lot of red lipstick. A girl needs a little color.

In the interim, I am working on a new book. Years ago, in 2010 to be exact, after the launch for my widow memoir, I sat on my patio, dogs by my side, watching the moon slip in and out of the night clouds, and thought my house was the perfect setting for a Nancy Meyers movie, the movie adaptation of The Unfaithful Widow. (I love all her movies, my favorite, It's Complicated) Now, I wonder if I wouldn't like to be sitting in a rambling quirky Victorian farmhouse in a quiet, but literary community, an hour from Atlanta, if Nancy comes calling.

Time will tell, and if you know me, I will tell all. But no, I'm not having a breakdown. I'd like to say I am having a life surge, trying to figure my next move. Wherever I am, what ever I am doing, my faithful dogs will be by my side. I just need to keep their hair off my black fedora!


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