Sixth Monday

Still no clear thoughts or feelings on where I want to be. I feel a bit like I'm caught in a time warp. Have I been here six weeks already? Am I still on the grab stop en route to the river region or did I even leave here in March 2017 for the year of wandering? In physical fact, I am pretty much picking up where I left off at the end of the five month survey project. Perhaps I've slid all the way back to fill the shoes of the 19teen's dairy wife, patiently awaiting construction of the fancy new house to replace the make-shift shack she and family were crammed into while they established their dairy farm. Okay, okay. . . That one is a bit of a stretch while I am typing on my laptop, watching traffic zoom by between this 140 acres and the corporate cattle campus across the highway, feeling the encroachment of Fort Worth's share of the Texas Boom. Where do all these newbies keep coming from?

Hubs is still talking like he is ready to move forward on developing this property and wants me involved. I still believe we are in different libraries, reading different books on what that means. For him, this property is the last of his family legacy. It is his last tie to his one surviving brother and their farming ancestors. To my rootless gypsy senses, that is priceless. Herstorically, disasters have followed each and every time I have attempted to carry my rootless gypsy logics into that arena. My disenfranchised family conditioning and his Boom Texas legacy are more cross-culture than a Muslim/Jewish union. On a more pragmatic level, are we moving at the speed of a busy executive's hobby or seriously wanting to get a job done?

Dunno. . . 

On the strictly personal front, my psycho wanders are focusing on that paradigm shift of my favorite vacation spot feeling like an obligation, complete with building maintenance and Breach of Contract demands. Wondering if I should wait until the call of the rivers which lead me to that inland delta is louder than the call of building maintenance and Breach of Contract demands.

Just wondering. . . Chew chew. . .