things are really, ahem, poppin’

Popping 2 pounds of kernels before I lose the pan.

Kernels purchased to feed the beloved birds (crows) outside the window.

I’ve got 2 pounds to pop up the old-fashioned way, with small stew kettle and oil, before the pan’s donated to a galpal anon.

That’s but one small to-do item on one VERY LONG list of things to do as the curtain draws shut on Tacoma, Washington.

Those wiser would say that curtain fell two, three years ago. I couldn’t entirely disagree.

For the record, know that the longer you stay in a situation no longer meant to be, a place, space or relationship no longer in harmony with your soul and spirit and purpose, the worse it gets. No matter how much effort you put forth to change it for the better or fix it.

When a horse is dead, it’s dead and no amount of efforts to revive or resurrect it will bring it back to life.

Let the horse be dead and leave with your own life.

If the universal “they” handed out blue ribbons for the number of accomplishments achieved in 48 hours, I’d be first in that reception line!

Yesterday alone began at 9 a.m. and ended at 11 p.m.

Moments after the morning’s first drops of coffee hit the mug, there began:

Two loads of laundry before the trip.

Followed by some necessary computer work.

Then to the unemployment office to file.

To the Ford dealership to pick up a galpal.

Then to Costco to have tires, including spare, inflated to maximum poundage for heavy loads.

Then across town to settle up on a personal matter.

Then across town BACK to the Ford dealership … with a pause for coffee and socializing with galpal.

Then across town yet AGAIN to the central postal facility in an attempt to rectify a postal mess (another posting).

To the electric company to schedule end of service.

Then to Comcast in another part of town to do same.

Back home to catch up with two neighbors on matters; only one was home.

Then back out for an evening commitment … pausing to grab a cheap emergency burger, my first meal of the day, at the ARCO gas station.


Evening commitment.

Home after 9.

More packing.

Stripping the last of the pictures from walls.

Patching holes.

Mopping walls with a bleach solution.

Wasn’t until 11 p.m. that all the action ceased.

Unless you count the three hours of tossing and turning until Mr. Sandman arrived at 5 a.m.

One might think I’d need a pencil and notepad to keep that long list of things to do straight!

And yes I do have one.

It’s called my brain.

I’m one of those folks who’s great at mental lists. And the more there is to do, the sharper the functioning mind.

So I really don’t worry about getting everything done in the short time remaining.

Unless I lose my mind.

Some readers might find these recent writings on the move the most mundane material ever to emerge from these fingertips.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Sure, scintillating reading it’s not.

But these writings contain kernels of gold not necessarily apparent to mortal minds and sensibilities.

These writings are recordings and documentation of an event for years long awaited and sought and earned and dreamt about and imagined.

There’ll never be a move like this one again, ever.

These are treasured moments … important moments that must not be dismissed with a wave of a hand and “oh, that’s just another of her moves. What’s this one make it now anyhow, 41?”

Oh no no no.

This is the move of my lifetime. Bigger than even the move to Japan, for a wholly different set of reasons.

So if you’re still along for the ride on this seemingly mundane leg of the journey, thanks; if not, your loss.

This is it … the crowning achievement … the gold medal at the Olympics … the escape from hell … a success story … a story of misery and hardship with a happy ending.

And I worked harder for this than I’ve worked for anything in my lifetime.

Life will never be this hard again. Therein is inexpressible comfort, reassurance and peace. Even amidst all this busy-ness.

Yes indeed. This is it. Now. Deliverance and resurrection. Live time. One step at a time. One task at a time. One day at a time.

Until comes the day of July 4, the Day of Freedom.

Five days now and counting.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. trayflow
    Jun 30, 2011 @ 03:03:46

    I am reading in anticipation; looking forward to your day of freedom. Is there anything I can do to help?


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