September 30, 2009

8:13 a.m.

Hard to Get Up, But Glad to Be Here

Chimney Guy is coming today! I plugged an extension cord into the mud room and left it coiled on the back "deck," and told him how to turn on the hose water in the basement. The spigot drips so much I didn't want to turn it on before I had to. There's a bucket underneath, but still.

I have a picture of my house on my computer desktop and the door to the small entrance is open. Every time I see it, my mind says, "Oh, no! I left the door open!"

Rehearsal good last night, but these evening ones aren't long enough to get through everything. We've added another one before our second gig. Chris is creating a bass part for me for something and on Friday I'll start learning it. We decided to set up the PA and work with all our gear that day, to make sure everything still works (including our brains).

I've been thinking quite a bit about this back of the mind fantasy I've always had. I may have mentioned this recently but I can't remember... it's about being part of a small, pioneering community, like starting over somewhere. I know my great grandparents were covered-wagon settlers in the Midwest. It could be some reflection on their lives, which are somewhat mysterious to me -- Dad didn't have a lot of information about them, really, just some photos. But I've also wondered if it's some Akashic or past life memory, if such things play a part in our here and now. Or a hunch about the future -- one of the reasons I came here, something I knew was going to unfold. I look around at my life now and see it inching towards that very scenario. Here I've got this block of land with my family, and we're trying to get as close to the earth and as self sufficient as possible. I hear about Iran stepping up their nuclear development and 0b*ma refusing to implement the missile defense system in Europe, and it's very troublesome, isn't it? I never used to care about these things. They didn't affect me, so it wasn't my job to expend energy worrying about them. But now I feel the need to check in with myself -- am I safe in my little town? If something happens, we don't have power, or water, or food, will we be prepared to survive? Suddenly I need a root cellar. You know? Jars of food we canned from our garden, an alternate power source, a plan. I'm not paranoid, I just have these hunches, and I've gotten better at hearing them.

Well, that's all of that for now; must get to work before someone realizes I'm sitting here doing what I'd rather do.