Working On My Shit

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I got back out here on Tuesday night, and went to work for a couple of days, but have had the last few off. The days off, were really busy, but also good to keep my mind off of being alone again. Today, I am taking some time to relax in my underwear and catch up on shit.

My own shit.

Johnny got his BBQ fixed up, so I’m going to head over there in a bit and eat some food. I might possibly drink a cocktail or three, if he allows me to sleep on his couch or finds me a ride home. His place is cleaner, and it has better snacks, so I hope it’s the couch that he chooses.

Yesterday, I went down to look at the house we are buying when the girls get out here. It’s as cool and homey as I remembered it, and brought back a lot of great memories. It was a safe place during a lot of my gloomier days. I think that’s why I like it and Hudson’s Hope so much. It’s where I went to escape some shitty times. Aaron and Lannie, and then the boys after they came along, always made me feel better, and still do.

(Update: I didn’t finish this before going for a delicious dinner of steak, asparagus, beer, and new potatoes. The post from here on out is today.)

As the big move draws near, I find myself getting very emotional, because it’s really happening. My dreams of off grid living are getting their start.

I know it’s not going to be immediate, but the dream is alive and growing, and I got my subscription to Small Farm Canada when I was home. My first issue was waiting for me when I got here, and I’ve read it cover to cover, twice. I get to the point of weeping tears of joy, when I read this magazine, and I always have, as I dream of our Dexter cattle, farm fresh eggs, and crop rotations.

I know that it’s not for everyone, but I have become so incensed with the way our world has changed that I found myself getting more and more depressed as I thought about it.

Until I met Mrs. Birdman.

She encouraged me, even though she wasn’t on board with my ideas from the start. She would give me little pushes when she could see me losing sight of my dream, even if it was just sharing an article about alternative homes, talking about growing the ingredients for her favourite salsa, or mentioning that having eggs from our own chickens will be a nice addition.

It all helped. Whether she knew it or not.

Now I can’t get it out of my head, which is good. It’s a lot better dream than the crazy one I had last night. Meat dreams are insane.

Birdman

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