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2018-01-15 - 12:13 p.m.

Life is good.

I feel very content.


Then I feel oddly nervous, alone, or worried for a little while, a split second...then I remind myself that it's all just a wisp, that I am on-track, that things are pretty great... and I go right back to content.

I was feeling those content feelings when I clicked this site up to write an entry and saw that Dolores O'Riordan of The Cranberries has died at 46. They didn't say how, but before the article was through they were sure to mention some embarrassing difficulty she had in 2014. I really loved her music, though I won't claim to have had all the records; I didn't. I loved the mainstream hits, the ones the radio played, especially "Linger", which always gives me a sweet, melancholy feeling when I hear it. I'm so sorry she is gone. I wonder what caused it? Was it a physical malfunction, like what happened to my husband, or was she in dire straits somehow? Whatever it was...I feel so sad for her. I hope it wasn't one of those situations where a person who seemingly has it all, is despondent or addicted. I hope it was nothing she could have seen coming.

My neighbor is feeding his chickens. I'm sandwiched, far closer than I like to be, between two neighbors. They're both friendly families, but one is junky and the other is not. The chicken-man, James, is the junky one. His place is littered with no less than 5 cars, only one of which seems to run, and lots of tarps, and piles of things, and stuff, and junk, and things. And stuff. He's divided up his yard space with chicken wire fencing, to create pens for all manner of whatevers. Chickens, mostly, it appears. You know, I don't really mind a this is temporary. If it were permanent, I'd hate it more. Ha. This whole renting experience is teaching me what to look for in my permanent home. For instance, I know I definitely want to be spaced further apart from neighbors. I am truly a country life type of girl...close enough where a scream could be heard, far enough away that if I walk into the yard with my dogs sans bra, no one could tell without binoculars. Anyway, viva la James. Work it out, Chickenman.

The horse next door, which the Landlord said they call "Ed" (*flat stare*...really, guys? That's all the creativity ya got?) is now "Clara" to me. I've been watching "Depression Cooking with Clara" lately, and the sweet old dame doing the cooking has a very long face, just like the horse. That sounds's not meant to be nasty (though I'd never say that to human Clara's long face)...I love both ladies. Horse-Clara gets an apple and a carrot from me each day. She spits a ridiculous amount while working those treats over. Horse slobber. So. Much. Slobber.

I have let my cat outdoors, for the first time here, today. It'll be 3 degrees tonight, so his outdoor adventure was truncated, in order to prevent the freezing off of the tiny little fur-satchel that used to house his balls. He is meowing fervently for more outdoor time, but as he is given to disappearing for a day or two, I dare not risk it so close to dark. One doesn't play with 3 degrees.

This place is beautiful, even in the dead of Winter. The trees are all bare, but the landscape is still so wonderful to me. Rolling I LOVE rolling hills and mountains! I DID THE THNG! I AM HERE!

I am SO IMPRESSED with me.

Saturday was the 2nd anniversary of my husband's death. It was bittersweet. I miss him so, still; I regret the loss of him sharply and still cry about that often (despite all the things I have come to realize I could never put up with now)...but I feel so optimistic and joyful at the do-over I am just beginning here in heart is not broken anymore. It has healed up, however wonky, and is ready to start again. That does not mean "ready to find a man". I don't believe I will be doing that again. I just can't see that in the cards. I LIKE being alone. Love is a risky, often annoying, often sticky, gross, inconvenient hassle. I don't believe I need that. Here's to MY WAY, ALL DAY, EVERY DAY!

I am embracing that in ways you wouldn't believe if I told you. So I'm not going to tell you. Let's just say...I'm doing it Myra Style. Indefinitely.


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