I keep saying things about our house to my housemates that I think give me away. I am a sentimentalist. I am also a future-obsessor. I have trouble with the now. I like to think about my children and how they are going to tell about their "hippy mom" and how she lived in an old house when she was in her twenties, how she lived with boys (!) and girls together in something that they tried to call community. How we had a garden and a clothes line and (hopefully someday) chickens. I love my house. I love sitting around in our living room filling each other in on our days. I love Jessica being frantic to use all of her free time to its absolute maximum potential. I even love TJ playing that same James Callihan song over and over and over, even though I may never get it out of my head.
I don't like the rats or the cockroaches or the rodent slaughter that is currently taking place in our house. (I do like Kris and TJ who dutifully empty the rat trap every time. Thanks guys.)
On another note, my starbucks is closing two weeks from today. This is one of those sad things that makes me a little nauseated. How... well. Never mind. It will work its sorry way out, I suppose. I do so like my job.
I always feel like the process of blogging removes all interesting thoughts from my head. Too much pressure, too much effort, etc.
Also, I don't like heavy interactions and I don't like change. But I do like reading the Russians and I do like Park Rangers, in idea and in praxis.
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