One Track Mind

Dear Readers,

I rarely blog without pictures.

I admit to having very little patience for blogs with too many words and not enough art.

I start skimming after the tenth paragraph.

But throw a picture of your darling baby hedgehog in the middle of all those words and I'm stuck.

Maybe I have A.D.D...

Wait, I've read Pride and Prejudice 6 or 7 times... so it can't be A.D.D.

It must just be this instantaneous, I want it now, one sentence conversation, me have big phone - me will text u, flashing image, quick change artist of a life we are living that's getting to me.

So today, out of rebellion, I'm using my words.

* * *

We are on a train.

It is a pack-train; a slow one.

A gut-wrenchingly slow, hunchbacked, crooked-legged, hodge-podge, somewhat-comical packhorse is leading this train.

His name is Housebuy N. Paperwork

He has us where he wants us and he's not letting go...

Or maybe it's us not letting go...

Watch closely, it could go either way.

Taking care of this train is my new full-time job. I get the forms. I fill them out. I send them in. I copy. I paste. I call. I answer. We sign. We pay. We wait. And wait. And wait.

Sometimes I weep---

No actually not. Scratch that.

Sometimes I wilt at the thought of another round of, "Oh, the loan underwriter needs another copy of your 1769 tax return - Page 6558453 - Form: IDK. It appears you missed a page."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, I'll get that right out. I don't know HOW that could have happened. Maybe in between the diapers and the dishes and the laundry and the packing and the cooking and the mud and the squabbling and the whining and the bills--- Oh yes, I understand, don't let ME keep you. Bye, now."

And on goes the train.

But today as the train tried desperately to hobble across one of it's many mountainous molehills, I stepped off for a little break. I looked over the edge of the Sum-Ting Falls-Tru ravine and I saw our family. In our little rented house. I remembered happy things that happened here. I ignored the tiny voice that reminded me of the lack of space and the big city all around. And I thought, Ha! We'd be OK.

Then I looked waaaay over, past the Un Dar Ryter River, across the Dayov Klosing Toll Bridge, through the By A-stov Canyon, and there in the shadow of mount Kleen Mee-Up, is our new house. Bigger. Newer. Fresher...

And I got back on the train.

Then the unimaginable happened. That old mule of a pack animal got a burr under his saddle and he went huffing and a puffing right up the hill like nothing ever slowed him down in his life. And in my excitement, I kinda lost my head.

The phone rang. It was our loan officer. She had a question. Just a question. But to me, with my hair blowing in the wind and the smell of, well, my house isn't that clean and we're on a pack-train, so we'll forget the smell part... to me that question felt like a dead end.

A hitch in the pack-horse's getalong. A broken bridge. A monumental stop sign.

Rain on my parade, I mean, pack-train... Okay, I think you get the idea.

"Why do they keep asking me these questions? Don't they know I'm just an normal person wanting to make a better life for my children. We keep going over this. I'm an honest person. We pay our bills. We don't cheat on our taxes. I'm a good person. No, I have not shaved my legs in four days, but still, I have good intentions. ----"

O dear, I thought, there I've gone and done it. I can't believe I said that to our very sweet and understanding loan officer. What do my hygiene habits have to do with our mortgage? What have I come to?!--- Huh? She's laughing!

"You are so funny. I haven't shaved mine in days either."

And you know what? She said she's read my blog and my children are beautiful.

Do you know what that does for a mother and a writer?

It makes us hold a little tighter to the train.

Then she went on with her questions and I went on with my answers but I was too busy repacking my bags for the rest of the ride to care much about that.

So wherever you are and whatever track you are on; up hill, down, steam engine, first-class, camel caravan or caboose... be sure to take time to look at the scenery, step down for a walk now and then for a bit of fresh air and fresh perspective, keep your eye out for soft landings in case you need to jump off and always choose to enjoy the ride as you much as you will the destination.

Love,

Long Train of Thought In NE

P.S. Rumor has it that Housebuy N. Paperwork has decided this is his last journey as a packhorse. He is planning his transformation into a fast-flyin', don't-blink-you'll-miss-him, crazy, speed racer named, Izzy-Don Al Redy.