June 5, 2001

    Himself received an icq message from my daughter tonight.  It began as:  "hello Sir ... "  Too funny.  This is the child who questioned my relationship.  Now she's following the same pattern as i.  Hmm. i'm not sure how i feel about that.  Anyway, the message continued to say that her stepfather and his new 'other' had seen Himself on tv, and said to say hello.

     One of my kids should become a writer.  They have a story already.  They grew up in an environment of a father, mother, stepmother, stepfather ... and Himself.  Oh.  And of course, the stepfather has a new 'other'.  Even i'm confused.

     i can only imagine how the kids manage to sort it all out.

     And they seem like such regular kids.  Well, young adults anyway since they are closer to 21 and 19 now.  And have excessive tattoos and body piercings. i truly wish they wouldn't do that part.

     It seems work is coming to a close soon.  The project is nearly done and i'm more than a little bit looking forward to being 'released'.  There are huge parts of me that would love to work at this place full time, but there's equally strong parts of me that's glad i'm not stuck in the routine.  i am truly at war with my personality right now.  The security of being hired full time somewhere wars with the freedom of freelancing.  i've never freelanced before, so that probably adds to the anxiety.  Yet in a huge number of ways i can see where my personality is perfectly suited to freelance.  

     i get bored easily.  Especially if i'm stuck in one place for a long time.  i like diversity.  i like challenge.  i'm ready to move on once i solve something.  

    On the plus side of stability though, is a regular medical plan.  And the knowledge that each week you get a set amount of money to plan around. 

     But you lose the freedom to be spontaneous about things like sudden trips to Paris.  Yeah!  Paris.  Can i imagine that?  Himself has friends who have relatives that they stay with and we are always welcome.  It would be unbelievably wonderful.  i've lived in Indonesia - a totally different environment - but something i loved and in truth if i'd been stronger, i'd have stayed.  i cried for hours after i left there ... the plane hadn't left the runway yet and i was regretting leaving at all.  But that was a lifetime ago now.

    i admit to a fear of flying though.  So where's the beer?  i'll need a few if i intend to try again.

     But back to work.  i'm hoping i can take a few weeks off and catch my breath.  And get caught up on all the things that seriously lagged while i was gone.  Like the ezine and the gym and this journal and learning more web stuff and writing.  Especially the writing.

     And now Himself has given me a new task.  At first i didn't understand it was a task actually.  His daughter was here, and doing her homework, part of which involved having pictures drawn of shoes.  i offered to help and did a quick sketch of one of my sandals, which turned out surprisingly well.  Suddenly finding myself quite pleased, i showed it to Himself.  He made all the requisite sounds of impressed, which led to me saying i used to (in high school) draw pictures of houses.  Bingo.  One task coming up.

     He was curled up under the blankets when i showed Him the picture of the sandal. And we had the conversation.  Then He said; "draw a picture of the house and then it will by our house."  Our house.  My mind drifted to 'home'.  A place that really feels like home.  Like a place i'd stay forever.  

     i said; "isn't it already our house?"  And He said yes, but this would make it really 'ours'.  And i understood.

     i still didn't understand that it was a task though, until the next night when i asked; "were You serious about drawing the house?" And He said yes.  i fretted about my ability (like i usually do).  He made it very clear He didn't care about that and to just do it. 

     So 'do it' i am.  Lord only knows how well it will turn out.  i asked tonight if it could be my own rendition of what i see and He agreed, so long as it doesn't become Picasso-esque.  In other words, i really have to try hard. Ack! Can i handle the stress?

     Gads.  i am so not an artist.  Yet i find myself thinking about the proper pencil and paper.  

     Am i addicted to challenge?

     Or addicted to that tightening of the heart strings that i felt when He offered the chance to show exactly what 'our house' looks like?  

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