Life on Mars

T-minus ten days until Christmas. We sloshed through rain and mud yesterday to acquire a Christmas tree. I’m dreaming of a wet Christmas. Luke and I decorated the tree last night while Shawn and Ana made tacos. It smells like home.

The last few days of the year. And the last few days at my dance studio. And from the sound of it, perhaps the last few days of my stay-at-home mom-ness and housewifery. Lots of changes. I feel like I’m floating between dimensions right now until the dust settles and I can feel a new floor beneath my feet. Like a long flight of inter-dimensional travel. Unfinished. I’m not even finishing sentences. Huh.

It’s strange going through a handful of unsettled days of the last of a routine. Until you’ve carved some grooves into a new surface, everything will feel slippery. This old floor may have some rough patches, but you have some claim to it. In some respects I don’t know what that new surface will even look like, let alone how it will feel. New ground. There are phone calls and meetings and such in these last few days of the year that will sort all that out. Until then, I’m sitting on Mars contemplating the space-time continuum.
I generally slap my ballet flats on my feet when I feel conflicted but even those barres are coming loose from the walls.

Makes me want to curl up in a corner with a ball of yarn and a disc of Buffy. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.

Signing off.

-Muddled on Mars