Fall

It's fall freak out time!
Not that I'm worried about the coming winter, nosiree. Something so horrifying, so breathtaking that I almost dare not mention it here.
Colorfest is in two weeks.
What this means for me is that I get to run around like a cleaning fool, making sure every little corner of my house is spotless...... because Mom is coming. I know, strikes terror in your heart, doesn't it?
What's got me this year is all the 'stuff' I have to shuffle around. When Roomie's dad passed away, she took it as an invitation to just bring piles of crap here. Now, granted, it's her crap, but still, it's my house, and I'm quite frankly tired of 'making room'. I'm not a hoarder, by any stretch of the imagination. I want free space, blank space, white space (see how I snuck that snow reference in?!). I'm tired of pushing something over six inches to make room for a box or a bag or a piece of furniture. How many friggin' beds do we need, and how many more times are we gonna move 'em?
Sigh.
Behind me is an oak table, from Roomie's vacation cottage. There's a smaller one up there now. And a bench that went with said table. An empty - EMPTY - plastic bin. A chair that needs a cushion. A full sized mattress and box spring. Roomie's emergency bag from her car. Towels for the cottage. Ugh. All infringing upon my space.
I hate this.
I hate that I have to freak out, put away, hide and spit shine just so my mother can come and complain about it anyway. The bed is not comfortable, the house smells like cat, how do I stand the dog fur.
I'm telling you, that sled sounds better and better.

Obsession

Earlier this week, I was accused of being obsessed with my dog by Daughter #1. She didn't pussyfoot around, she outright looked at me and said:

"Mom, you are obsessed with your dog."

I don't think I responded to her then, but I can now. I will freely admit that I love my dog. My Siberian Husky is the dog of my life, the canine soul mate that everyone should get to experience at least once. But I'm not obsessed with my dog............ I'm obsessed with the lifestyle that my Siberian represents to me.

I am finding, as I age, that all I really want is to be alone. I want to load up my pared down possessions on a dog sled, and mush off in to the great white beyond. I want to find that cabin, you know, the one in the middle of nowhere, where all you can hear is silence and all you can smell is pine and woodsmoke. I want to spend some time with my mind not crowded by thought and my ears not assaulted by the endless drone of noise. I'd love to wake up each morning and sit on the porch in the glory of a cold, frosty morning, nursing my coffee and enjoying the solitude. Is there anything wrong with laying in bed at night and looking at the stars? Enjoying the company of a dog (or two, forgive me Dakota!) is far more palatable to me than sitting in a bar again because you know who is too lazy to go anywhere else or plopped in front of the tv for yet another episode of 'Wheel of Fortune'.

Alone. Winter. Pine. Siberian. Silence.

My new personal buzz words!