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Shawn Mullins

On Friday, I finally had the chance to see Shawn Mullins live.
It was great to get the chance to see him in person. There is a satisfying moment to hear your favorite songs played live. But one I only get from small concert venues.

A guy named Eddie Elliot opened and I enjoyed him as well.

I spent the early part of this week in Kerrville and Houston. A small trip for work and to take in a small portion of the HOV II Tour ( Susan, Walt, Brandon). The show in Houston was at the Mucky Duck. It’s a great venue for live music. It makes the top of my list of great listening places to see music in Texas. I will get pictures up as soon as I am done renovating the website.

While in Houston, I did try for a few hours to locate my brother but that’s another story. I also took a trip down memory lane and went by the old house. I always feel the need when I am there…just to make sure the place is still where we left it I guess. The house is currently for sale.

My parents built in 1976 for $17,000. Almost 3000 square feet and what was once almost 2 acres of land. I thought about what it might be like to buy it. If Houston wasn’t the armpit of Texas, I might even think about it seriously. It takes days to get the petroleum smell out of my hair and clothes. But the nostalgia of it, to have the house I grew up in again and walk the same hall; flush the same weak toilet; feel the cool brown ceramic tile under my feet; brush my hands over the ridges of spanish stucco and stand under the archways. And, to have the garage apartment with the orange cone wood burning fire place and kitchenette where I used to image I’d live one day when I was older. That apartment is where we lived until the house was finished and where my mother tumbled down the stairs while pregnant with my brother. It has been my running joke for years about what wrong with him. If I weren’t cranky I’d feel whimsical.

Tonight I go to a musical…

Home is not really a place at all

I posted only one other time this month so I guess this is somewhat required lest I be lost and forgotten. It’s been easy enough to be lost in the crazy amount of work lately or lost in the changes around the house. I’ve just been to distracted to write anything.

Last weekend, I took a short road trip and went out to Wimberly to hang out. It was great to get away from the house, to spend time out in an open space and to sit by the river. I was thinking then and there about how much I miss being in a place where I am surrounded by trees and water and not streets and neighbors. I am sometimes conflicted about where I live but living for free versus living where I feel the most at peace is by its very nature complicated. I keep close the thought that the choice only gets me closer to the things I really want. One day.

I had to take a trip this week up to Oklahoma. Did some work but also took a little detour back home. Two road trips in less than a week. This time I took hayseed with me so I could show off some of the places from my past that I love. The weather was not so cooperative but I like being there anyway. The rolling terrain, scrub oaks, roaming buffalo and hidden lakes are home. Some parts of home never change, some parts change so much you wonder if your memory is failing you.

Drove by the house. I don’t think you can ever get used to the idea of other people walking the hall to your bedroon and sleeping in your room and making food in your kitchen. It’s the same people that bought the house. I drove by the first week after they moved in. That was so many years ago. It’s the same blue van that parked under the carport. Though now it’s full of rust and that same carport sags dangerously. Pisses me off how they’ve let it get into such disrepair. The deck and addition finished just before grandma Dixie died are now tipping and falling away board by board. The pear and peach tree are now so large it’s hard to image the times when I was 10 and able to pull off a fresh fruit every day. It’s the same way with how change and memories can fool your perspective. Things once thought so large or so far in distance are just not.

Home is not really a place at all… just a memory.

more rain

Last night, I cried myself to sleep. I haven’t done that in awhile. My own words. I wish I didn’t have to use them. I am begging to be allowed to not say anything at all. Can’t you see me begging and pleading?

Let’s talk about other things.

Earlier this morning, I dreamed I went back to work for Tim. He and I were interviewing people for jobs. I dreamed I was trying to talk my current job into letting me do it part time still because it’s really part time work. I dreamed of all these people welcoming me back in a parade of faces. Some belonged there, some did not. What is funny is that the office is one that has been in my dreams before. When I dream about CF the office always looks the same. It ended when I was awakened by the phone ringing at 7:00 am.

Davie’s tennis camper calling to see if today’s lessons are still on. Not very likely.

The rain fell from before the sun came up yesterday until after it went down. It rained all night and it is raining still. The house is dark and freezing. Outside it feels like a sauna. Water is choking every corner, every low spot in the uneven ground and everything else left abandoned outside. The rain has been falling every night for at least a week and so much fell in the days and weeks before now. We are soaked and the soaking is to the bone. It’s good but I suspect once it’s gone, it won’t be long before there will be a return to complaining about drought like conditions. Afterall, what else does anyone have to talk about except the worst things? We are a deficit focused world. And I am a deficit focused girl…my apologies to Madonna.

I have to try and do some work.

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