I'm not sure to what I can credit my new found source of motivation. Maybe it's the simply gorgeous (though dry) weather we've had lately, or maybe it's the turn of the season. Last night, driving to Georgetown to have a couple of beers with of two of my most favorite people in the world, I noticed the browning of the grass and trees - such stark contrast to my last drive out there in late spring when everything was so green and new. All I could think about was the pair of handmade socks on my feet, the Chuck Taylors that had been unearthed from the back of my closet, and the hooded sweatshirt that was going to keep my toasty warm while sitting on the deck overlooking their land and horses.
I have the urge for going, as Joni Mitchell would say. To move along, make a change. A new house would be so great, a bigger house to make room for a family that will hopefully grow in the next couple of years. But the truth is, we're not in a position to move, nor is it necessary that we do. We love our old, flawed house and our diverse neighborhood, it's just that restless spirit in me that has always been there.
So I'm learning to channel it into other projects. I've decided to paint my dining room and have developed a course of action for minimizing the amount of time wet walls will be at toddler level. We're doing a thorough budget and walking through the house to identify all the projects that need to be either completed or started so that if we decide to sell our house, we can. We want to have the freedom to say, "This is a great opportunity!" and jump on it.
As I re-read that above paragraph, it strikes me as almost funny how my definition of "free" has changed. Sure it's appealing to have only enough stuff that will fit in my car, to have no commitments and just take off to wherever I feel led. I hope one day to get back to this, maybe upon retirement when the kids are gone and Roy and I sell our things and take off. But for now, this level of freedom is most desirable.
Wow, I really am growing up.