And? ? ?
This feels like day one of the next step. The next step to what is the paralyzing question of the morning. My stuffy little CPA pops into my consciousness again this morning with his nag of, "Do first. Define later." Easy for you to say, my dapper dude. You are safe behind your organized rows and columns with a professional certification to lend you credibility. Officially, I'm *just* a runaway houswife.
Just breathe. . . Next step is to open the door to this room and step out into the Great Unknown. Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer. Think I'll listen to my dog. She says, "I gotta pee. Let's go for a walk."
Yes, ma'am.
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The walk found me ranting in Spanish. I go through allot of anxiety attacks when that happens. I am seldom allowed to speak Spanish in Texas. Entire rooms of people will fall silent and change language when I walk into a room. I have been verbally attacked for telling well-intentioned folks who attempt to translate for me that I understood just fine. Heaven forbid that I should let Spanish words fall from my wrong colored lips. Returning from my university studies in South America (of course in Spanish, Silly. . .) spun out viciously down this line. Politics arenae my strong suit in any language. Since my return from Ecuador in 2008, my use of Spanish has nearly disappeared. In Texas, the politics attached to speaking Spanish are far more intense than this wrong-color, beaten crazy bitch wolf can handle.
I blame the jumping of language tracks on having watched a movie from Spain last night. Good movie. As I walked and noticed my hyper-vigilance getting its hackles up over the natural language shift, it got me wondering. . . Is it time to work on that snotty knot? I ain't in Texas today. In Texas, Hispanics have long been a majority. Not so in Paducah. Majority politics and minority politics differ by a landslide.
I'm glad Persilly got you out. She's a smart girl. (((Hugs)))