I turned 34 a week ago. I took it really hard, not because I am getting older. I have no real fears of growing old or death. My heart is heavy though because I realize that I am not where I wanted to be, and in many ways, the years I had hoped for are gone. I can't really do what I wanted. . . and my dream has to change.
I never wanted a degree, I never wanted to be a career woman, I never wanted to have alot of money or a fancy car. My dream, as long as I can remember, was a few acres with a barn, a cow or two, some chickens, big gardens, clotheslines, playing with my children and a good strong husband to come home to. I had that dream for awhile, when I was married and homeschooled my children. I felt blessed to have baby four and baby five enter my life. I thought I was in utopia, until it fell apart . . . anyway. . . . After that no option existed to stay in the marriage and I knew someday I would want to buy a home again. That left me with one option . . . get a degree and be able to support myself better then I was doing.
The first summer or two after my divorce were so painful. I was living in an apartment with my kids, they had begun going to public school, my babies were in daycare and I was working three jobs while going to school. I would see plants and seeds and gardening items hit the store and would literally avoid going anywhere near them because I missed it so badly that it hurt. I will never forget that feeling of dread in my stomach, not wanting to look, not wanting to remember all that I had lost. I would reel in the pain of it. At least those days are done . . . I absolutely love my garden now, and have been able to let the earlier pain go. . . . usually.
I guess graduating from college gave me all this extra *time* that I haven't had in years. That time gave me the opportunity to reflect, and keep reflecting on what I want. I realize I went through the phase of hating men . . . . *sorry to any male reading this* and I went through my phase of trying to spend alot of money on clothing and vacations to convince myself that I was successful. I went through the phase of deciding to move far away and start all over. . . . and when all was said and done. I still want the same thing. A loving man and a home in the country.
What is particularly difficult is realizing that while I was chasing dreams and fantasies. . . my children have grown up. Jayme is gone from the home, the others are 14 and 15 . . . soon to be out the door. Hannah and Jake are going to be 7 and 9 this year. Time flew . . . where was I? And while that time flew, I grew. . .. I got healthier, I got a degree, I became self sufficient. However I still come home to an empty bed. I don't have anybody to spend my weekend with or cook for. Nobody to make love to, nobody to make plans with.
It hurts. It is a cold feeling to realize how alone you truly are in this world. Sometimes I wake at night and all I can think about is what to do next. Do I buy my cabin on 3 acres here? Go to Eugene? Alaska? What do I do?
And sometimes, the thought of always doing it alone just makes it worse. Recently an old love of mine appeared in my life again. I had a fleeting moment of hope that he was going to come back. We talked about food and country life. I dared to dream. I held a hope . . . and just like that he was gone again. Sometimes, it just hurts.
The feminist in me wants to kick myself in the ass and say I don't need a man to pursue my dream with. I can do this alone with my kids and build my own dream however the hell I want. The woman in me aches for a love though. I'm not quite sure what to do with that.
That is about as far as I got before my salsa mishap. Oy! By the way, this is absolutely the best salsa I have ever had in my life anywhere ever. . . e v e r ! ! !
So, I start chopping onions, peppers, tomatos, cilantro you name it. . . and it all has to boil for 10 minutes in the pot. . . simple enough right. . . here is that pic.
Now, after ten minutes of boiling, you have to take the hot jars out of the boiling water (I just keep them in the canner until ready to use). As I was moving the hot jars to the counter to be filled and sealed. . .. I dropped a jar, I dropped a BIG jar, into a boiling hot pan of salsa. I will not repeat here what I said as salsa flooded the kitchen, and. . . unfortunately . . . me. Here is that pic!
In the end, I escaped for the most part with only a few blisters *gross painful ugly nasty blisters* on my arm. I immediately ran for the cold water but, it still hurts. However, the 1/4 jar of salsa that was leftover has been promptly eaten. The other ten jars are cooling. I couldn't be happier with the salsa but. . .. once again . . . OUCH!
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