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On The Move

Life for me is just slowing down as we’re settling into a new home in a different state. At an unexpectedly rapid place, my family relocated from small town Carolina to the Atlanta area of Georgia.

It’s involved a lot of change, mostly for the kids who live with ASD and are major creatures of habit, but also my husband who has come to a new job location and myself who, for now, is not working outside the home.

It’s always been a dream of mine, to be at home where I’m accessible to my family. Juggling household chores while working feverishly on stories, articles and books. Need I even say that it’s not quite that simple and now and then I long or the simplicity of a desk and a computer and a clock to punch?

But, I have hope, and hopefully, time to figure all of that out. For now I’m sitting here in the moment, doing the laundry and listening to the rain, planning dinner and anxious to hear about the kids’ day at school, feeling very much…at home.

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Why?

why

I seldom feel the need to explain myself, and I never intended to start now. But since the news of my family’s move to Atlanta has been met with the general inquisition of “why,” I’ve been feeling the need to explain myself, to tick off reasons why we’ve decided to leave this grand old place, and basically, sell the idea of Atlanta to people who are not only not coming with us, but probably won’t even visit.

Our “why” basically is this, though.

We live in a rural area, and though my husband works for the federal government, his particular placement has little room for advancement right now. Atlanta has that. We do have family here, because we were born and raised here. However, that has been a blessing and a curse. Family is there for help and support, but only when they can and want to, and family tends to overstep their bounds. Hell, I’ll say it, my mother especially.

When you have the comfort and convenience of family, it’s hard to motivate yourself to go it on your own. For instance, I almost never have issues with babysitting. On the other hand, my mother often treats me like a teen mom and coaches me (without solicitation) through whatever thing I’m dealing with concerning the children.

We have special needs children, I’ve said that before. The school district has been accommodating, but all the while letting us know that they only have so many resources available and there is only so much they can do. We are relocating to a place where there will be many more resources for the children.

And also, despite their challenges, my children are gifted, but there are no resources here to help nurture their talents besides basic school activities. If my daughter wants to dance, she has to do it in her bedroom.

Finally, we will be in a place where, at last, I can give the proper time and attention to my own career. And not law enforcement. I’ll get to really give freelancing a shot, and I’ll be in a prime place to promote my book next year.

So, there you have it. Those are just a couple of reasons why other than, damn it, it’s our party and we’ll move if we want to.

“Welcome to Atlanta where the players play…”

This is the text I got from my husband this morning, once he got to work and found out that he had been picked up as a transfer with his job to their Atlanta facility.

We decided on a whim almost a month ago to put in for it because the situation here has been at such a stand still, and really, I’ve been complaining about this place (my hometown) for oh…since I moved back here in 2006. We also tried for Houston and Butner, and I would have been fine with either, but being honest, my heart was already in Georgia.

And, truth be told, and as my history speaks for itself, I believe in fresh starts.

On one hand it’s scary. With two special needs children, transitions and the what ifs surrounding them can be paralyzing, but on the other hand we’ll be in a place where there are many more opportunities and hopefully school districts that can better suit their needs.

I will, at least for a bit, be able to be at home writing and be there and available for my family. The chances for promotion for my husband will greatly increase. And I will still have family in the area, including two beloved older aunts who I don’t see or talk to nearly enough. And there are a couple of friends who relocated there several years ago who I get to catch up with, too and writer friends I’ve met through social media who I might actually get to hang out with in real life!

But enough with the jibber jabber. I have a house to sell and another to locate and buy!

“Does anybody know George Duke?”

When my co-worker asked this question yesterday afternoon, I wanted to slap him with the Snapshot CD I keep in the door of my car…for George Duke emergencies. I had already heard the news by then and had already had my personal moment of silence for this musical great, but he was just catching up during his internet browsing session.

Yes, I know George Duke, but no, I didn’t always. I was introduced to his talents when an ex told me that he heard a song on the radio that reminded him of me. This was the nineties (yes, I’m old).

“It was on a jazz station,” he said. “The guy’s name is George Duke. The song was ‘No Rhyme, No Reason.'”

Curiosity, of course, got the best of me and I went to my local CD shop (how I miss having one of those that actually sells authentic CDs and stays open later than six o’clock but I digress). I searched the jazz section until I found it. I tore the disc open as soon as I got in the car and listened to the track.

And there I was, in love at first listen.

It so happened that a few years later I was lucky enough to score tickets to one of his concerts. Rachelle Farell and Al Jareau were there, too. I was two weeks out of a major surgery, but damn it, I threw on heels and a psychedelic summer dress and walked with three of my friends across hilly grass so that we could take our place on the ground with a blanket and it was awesome.

At the end of his set he asked for a request from the crowd. I think I was one of the loudest out there shouting “No Rhyme, No Reason…No Rhyme, No Reason.” And he sang it. And we all sang along.

I have other Duke favorites, and there have been many moments when my younger husband’s friends will be over and I have to school them on real music and I’ll pull out one of his discs and play it.

It happened not more than a week ago, actually. Yes, he was sick, but it does hurt that he’s gone. Any music lover can relate and probably would agree…we really have lost a good one.

“I bring my…”

You might have heard me mention here and there the completely out of the blue conversations I have with people (more accurately, they with me) about sex. I don’t always talk about it, but I do often document it -letting them know I’m doing so of course. And I do it because I find that these random tidbits work great in my stories. Today was a great example.

I was talking to a friend about her no-strings relationship and she mentioned that it seems like the guy is getting more attached than she. The thing she said that really stood out?

“I bring my pussy to this relationship, not my heart.”

And yes, I wrote it down. Short story in progress.

Knowing When

I can be relentless to a fault. I can repeat the same thing over and over again in different ways just trying to get my point across or simply be heard. I was once too proud to do this, too afraid of showing weakness or vulnerability.

With age and well, Valium, that all sort of went out the window. I began feeling more like I didn’t have anything to lose and I voiced my opinion and about any and everything, everywhere I could. And, I received mostly the same results.

Now, I’m thinking I need to go back to being that silent and numb person I once was. It was better that way, and safer, and I wasn’t feeling as on edge or as much like I would stroke out at any moment. You can’t control everything. You can’t control most things, and that can be frustrating.

But you have to know when to back away and just let it be, because it’s going to be, whether you like it or not.

I’m back to writing in the meantime, and I hope that’s something that never changes about me, never is muted or tainted. I hope that’s something that never, ever goes away.

Whatever It Takes

I’ve already harped on Twitter about my 1k+ word count accomplishment today. To my fellow, more dedicated writer friends, this probably sounds like nothing, but for me who has been creatively mute for the past month or so, this is wonderful.

Of course, the burst of creative energy came from a huge bout of stress I’m dealing with, but fortunately, this is an awesome outlet for me. I subbed a story last week; I have another near completion, and I’m having tons of fun working on yet another (with sex injuries, yay!).

I’ve also added two-mile walks to the mix which also help.

Hell, anything is better than punching a wall (or a face), I guess.