I knew this was going to happen

Moving four hours away, into my parent's basement means, something else. It means moving to my home town. Which I left at age 18, 18 years ago.

Which is fine really. I harbor no hard feelings. We (the town and I) didn't know how to get along when we first lived together. What with we me being an angry artsy type and the town being hicksville. I didn't know how to smile. But I do now. Having long since learned to let my love shine, I am all sorts of fun and happy. This is who I am now.

This town is different too. It is bigger. There are non-white people living here. And the edge that is still hick? Well, I find it charming. Maybe I'll take up line dancing. Although, um, probably not.

But, today it happened. I knew it was going to. I was recognized. At my son's new day care no less. By someone from my high school no less. All my eighteen years of being anonymous, of being able to make up my back story, are gone. Perhaps this is a good thing. After all, I worked very hard to get here. Might as well take some credit.

I can't hide!

No paparazzi!

Well, I will miss my old radio stations. There are no less than three country stations here. Which is not too bad in small doses. In fact, I have taken quite a fancy to this song. I like to think, that if Mr. Hall were a country singer, he would sing this to me.



I say to me, welcome home Mrs. Hall (nee Godsmack) Welcome home indeed!

Never saw it coming.

Things I never saw coming:

1. That my post on the frosty fan would bring forth so many comments.


2.




No, really! I thought he was just one of those asexual people.


3. That the girls next door would ever be in peril.





4. That my job offer would fall through.

I had signed a contract to work as a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner on July 15th 2008. The contract was through a contracting agency. They worked with the health care organization I was going to work for. So, I signed a contract with an agency to work for the health care organization who needed a Psych NP.

Ya'll following? I need to shorten this story in order to explain it to the many people who will ask me what happened. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

And on July 15th I signed said contract. There were conditions. I had to pass my certification exam. Did that. But then things were stalled for so long. I should have known something was up. After all, it is more than two months later, and I am still not working there. And I never did get a start date.

I found out why yesterday. In addition to my certification, I needed experience. I am a brand-spanking new Psyche-NP. I have only clinical rotation/intern experience. The health care organization had assured my contracting agency, in writing, that my clinical rotation experience would count.

Turns out, that was wrong. So whomever was at the helm never could have offered me the job in the first place.

And we have been packing and planning to move The Family Hall two hours away for two months. And waiting on pins and needles. Just waiting. A three minute phone call changed everything.

Which is ok I guess. I am still in shock though. I am surprisingly ok with it. I am not really freaking out. Although I am sure that is coming. Denial is not just a river in . . .

Overall, I feel relief. I can now be vigilant and lioness as I stalk my new prey. I mean job. I am an awesome nurse. Even better Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner.


HEAR ME ROAR!

Where the deer and the antelope play

I am a romantic. I can wax poetic about anything. Really, I can call out the beauty of a ham sand which, polyester or tuft of hair in the shower drain. What is even easier to romanticize is the the place where I am. It is easy to wax poetic about the place where I am now; because I know it will be the place where I've been.

The place I am now is walking the wee Pancake to the grocery store. It is two blocks away from home. She talks endlessly about all things most important to a five year old. What color her favorite flower is, what color her favorite tree is, her shiny new sandals, "Aren't they pretty Mama, can I wear them to school?" And we hold hands and talk about what she wants her birthday cake to be, chocolate or strawberry. It is gorgeous outside. Movie gorgeous. Warm and syrupy. Not quite dusk, but sunset light all the same.

And I get all misty for being able to walk two blocks to the grocery store. All sad because we will be moving to the country soon. And I get all sad, knowing that we have certain things we do here, where we are now. Certain places we go and know exactly what to expect. We know who will be there and what we will order. We know where the good parks are, the one with the best slide and the local house cat who always stops by for a pet. The cat that will lay there and tolerate the most roughest of grabby toddler grabs. And it never bites or hisses, it just reluctantly moves on to the next kid.

Where we are now, will be where we have been. It wasn't our choice to be here in the first place. But we call it home now. But home is a fluid and finite thing. The only permanence is us, the Family Hall.

It is the oddest sensation. It is like having my belly filled with ice chips and my jet pack roaring to life, all at the same time.

More on the jet pack later.