We are back from a whirlwind weekend trip to the mountains. The Great News: We are going to rent our little woodland retreat full-time. This means less running up the hill and last minute packing for two days of “downtime” while we work on repairs and freeze our buns off in the snow for a “vacation” before drunk ski bums invade and pee all over our sofa bed much to the chagrin of our somber looking deer head. (Poor Ralphie. He really has seen in all.)
The Bad News: Our new rental company told us that they wouldn’t even consider putting our home on the full time market based on the condition it’s in. Apparently having dark pine cone wall paper in the bedroom, blue snow flakes in the kids room, deer patterned paper in the living room, faux wood paper in the bath and dark green paint in the kitchen is more than satisfactory for Kermit, Frosty or the Bernstein Bears, but most people want a more “relaxed” atmosphere when plunking down a grand/month to live in a 900 square foot home. (“Plates! All I see are tacky plates when I look at your living room!” our realtor bemoaned.)
Today, as fate would have it, I got a small gig for my local paper. It’s not a fortune, but it’s in my field and makes me happy. I will also go back to my monthly Ebaying and make a bit to pay for our updates.
I tell you all this because life, like tics, never stays the same. And really, what choice do we have? We can cry and scream and curse our fate, or we can go with the flow the best we can and have a few good laughs. The second is so much easier.
Speaking of humor, my son remains as chipper and entertaining as ever. His tics are still very low but his personality is larger than life. While this is awesome for his soul, I don’t love it when it comes to his hair.
He was looking less music and punk and more matted drunk. Yesterday his fate was sealed.
My cabin and my son are getting a fresh start! And Mama, while a bit melancholy about the changes, couldn’t be more excited about what the future holds.
What else will that future hold? A book soon enough. And when it’s published, how lovely would it be if we could all meet in Big Bear and have some coffee around my silly little 1958 kitchen? The olive table is gone, but the cabinets remain.
And we shall get high on caffeine while the snow falls outside the window and we giggle and joke about how strong we have come since that silly little diagnosis called Tourettes.
Who’s in? I’ve got a Lennox Chirp tea cup with your name on it in my future.