7 has always been lucky for me...

And its been 7 friggen months since I last put anything up here.
Busy?
mmmmmm, not reeeeaaallyyy.
I mean, I guess I was, but since Felice has moved into the tiny apartment with me, and since we both had service oriented schedules, we really just spent most of our "free time" goofing, laughing, dancing, art crawling, shredding, exploring, hiking, loving, and growing as a couple together.

If you've known me for longer than the last 3 years in Booneville, then you know what a HUGE deal this is - especially for me to admit in print. (is this even print?)  To have met Felice in the waning months of fall 2016 was a treat I did not expect, and one that has helped me to feel grounded, safe, and loved - feelings I have associated with the notion of "home" in my other writings over the years, feelings that I have had to carry with me as they were never associated with a particular place, but a place in my thoughts and feelings reserved for friends and loves along the way.  And the notion of "home" has been as elusive as the notion of "balance" for this Pisces, both ideas perplexing me as I pack up and leave another mediocre town, or start looking for the next job or relationship that will be enough, but not so much as to make me feel "stuck" or "settled."

OOOF!  SETTLED......  the very mention of the word makes me cringe still.
What is it to settle really?
Is it a compromise - and if so, between what extremes.
Is it to strike a balance between phases in life - again the binaries come to mind, a time of frivolity and care-free attitudes contrasted with the ideas of adulthood, and growing the fuck up.

Settling always sounds so negative - settling for something slightly less (or sometimes way less) than the thing you originally wanted, or settling for a "reality" when what you hoped for was only an implausible dream, concocted of fantasy and the countless impressions the Disney franchise shoved down our squishy, impressionable brains when our parents turned on the TV to calm our rambunctious impulses.

What is it about the verb to settle that makes us so nervous?
A quick google definition search brings up the following:
  1)  resolve or reach an agreement about (an argument or problem).

  2)  adopt a more steady or secure style of life, especially in a permanent job and home.                     (HA! Yeah RIGHT!)
  3)  sit or come to rest in a comfortable position.

No where is there mention of settling a new land, or the settlers who pioneered all those pour-over coffees and overpriced homes by pushing their way out west... which I guess would be a positive thing...

I have always managed a tricky balance between feeling a part of something where-ever I call home-for-now and the need to keep moving, keep planning, keep exploring, keep looking for the next thing.  I find myself closing 2017 and starting 2018 with a profound feeling of having found everything I need, all the pieces, for a feeling more full than ever before.  I struggle with how these pieces might fit together but I know they are here, and that's HUGE coming from someone who has spent a lot of time thinking about what was missing. 

Pessimism?  Yeah a little bit - but I've always had a good, albeit maybe just too-complicated-to-argue-with justification speech to explain the positive uses of a pessimistic mindset.  But I just cant justify that right now.

2017 saw a rapid, healthy, and deep understanding of self through the lens of another.  I feel like I have grown so much in a short year by being Surrounded and Lost with Ms. Felice Ann Fairfield Manget. We have created a deeper relationship in a year than I have ever felt with another person and it feels like a charge of electricity to an already overactive imagination.

Settling? HARDLY!  I'd tolerate more than I should at my age for a looker like her across my dinner table!  But she don't dish it out!  What she does is slowly simmer that part of me that used to own a whole box of tutus.  That's right, TUTUS. I used to own several, at least 4 colors, one-size-fits-most, for that you-don't-have-a-costume for-this....no-worries-there-is-a-tutu-in-the-truck kind of lifestyle I was rocking when I was at the height of my no-fucks-given, lets get the party started merriment.  Before my Mom died honestly.  I hadn't really considered how much that shock had changed who I was until this weekend, when the opportunity to ride my favorite trail in the freezing cold, with a handful of brave souls who rode what they had, and what they had was a blast.  A group ride with new friends, just for FUN! and my first ride in costume in a very long time.  at one point I looked at Felice and thanked her, for bringing out that side of me that has lain dormant far too long.

"I used to have so many Tutus." I said with a kind of remorseful sad longing in my voice.  She just laughed.  An honest to goodness laugh - the kind you share when something strikes you funny with someone you love.

Still not settling - just gonna work on this puzzle for a bit, make these pieces fit, cause they are all here, I just KNOW IT!

more to follow...