Merry Christmas, folks.

I just got back yesterday from what turned into a 28-hour-trek across the country in a rented Caliber (in bright monkey-ass blue, no less) from the middle of North Carolina back to Iowa.  For those who follow this saga elsewhere, this is the second time I’ve been there in just about as many weeks (been there two of the past three weeks), because honestly?  I got home and realized that Home had up and moved on me when I wasn’t looking.

There’s been that subtle perception shift thing going on in my life for the past 18 months or so.  As things have heated up, business-wise and personal-life-ish, I noticed some similarities in the things I was looking for by going Home.  (Anytime “home” is capitalized, folks, you can pretty much assume I mean Seattle, not the metal box in Iowa where I live.)

I found that I wanted a few things:  good friends….mountains…a creative atmosphere…a sense of familiarity.  Something.  Things, though, that had very little to do with a specific sense of place, and a whole lot more to do with more abstract concepts.  Sure, I love the Seattle skyline.  I love the weather.  I love the way you can bike anywhere.  A whole lot of the people.  The water, the sky, the trees.

But it’s not specific to Seattle.  Not the stuff I REALLY want.

I’ve tried, in the past months, to apply that to where I am now.  I really did.  I focused more on the people here than anything else, since (just being specific and honest here, no offense to anyone who finds the plains inspiring, which some *do*, I’m sure), the landscape is much less inspiring for me than, oh, say, an empty cardboard box.

It just didn’t *fit*.  I’m allergic to everything.  The weather literally makes me ill.  The politics freak me out.  The people I know *rule*, but OMG THE CORN.  (I’m allergic to corn pollen.  Literally.)  And the pesticides.  Migraines, anyone?

I need me some mountains.  I can deal with temperature fluctuations and pollen if it means I can still stand somewhere and look up and see the earth all around me.  Trees and green instead of corn and yellow.  It’s just better for me.

Enter North Carolina.

It was kind of by accident, really.  I had other business in Greensboro, NC.  (Big stuff, can’t talk about it much yet.  But big and unrelated to any of this brain nonsense.)  I had plans to fly out, stay in a hotel and meet a few people, do some Lime & Violet meet n’ greet-ing with some folks, and fly home.  I fully expected to think it was nice and all, but no Seattle.

Oops.

After four days, I kinda fell in love.  With people, with the drawl, and the relaxed feel, and the neighborhoods, and the trees.  I extended my trip for four more days.  (And found out there are something like six HUNDRED letterboxes, just in the Greensboro area ALONE.  I kid you not.  The mind boggles, considering there are just over 50 in the entire *state* of Nebraska.  Seriously.)

I flew home with some trepidation.  I mean, really — here I was, cheating on my Home with another place with trees and mountains within driving distance — and I didn’t care all that much.  I hadn’t had the time to develop the iron hooks in my brain the way I had with Home, but I was definitely feeling the infidelity.

Less than a week later, while sitting here in -3F temperatures (no, seriously.  The HIGH for the day was NEGATIVE THREE….), missing some people and freezing my ass off, I made a deal with myself:  Finish the Valentine’s Day LE package for Happy Housewife (ironic, that name…), and I’d get in the car and just *go* for a little while.

Three days later, I was here:

Just between the Tennessee/North Carolina border, with both windows down, feeling the mist of the morning curling my hair, speeding along at 70 mph toward my geographical mistress.

Houston, we have a problem.

It’s cheaper than Seattle.  Housing is less than half what it would be at Home.  I have built-in friends whom I already miss.  I could finally scale back my life to a reasonable level, get some external office/lab/studio space and continue L&V remotely.  I have a new job on the horizon, starting soon(ish), which isn’t geography-specific.  I have some big things coming up, but nothing that isn’t movable based on *where* it’s done, just *when*.

I do have some things I *have* to do first.  I need to clean up the rest of my life here, which is much easier than it was a year ago  (I got rid of so much stuff, people…seriously, here.  You have no idea.  *I* still have no idea.  Huge severings and shuffle-offs and big reality checks resulting in way less physical encumberances.), but is still considerable.  I need to get some things in order so that systems can be put in place to make everything easier.  I need to do some seriously strategic planning so I can balance everything, should I go in that direction.

To be a hundred percent transparent, too — I’d be doing this alone.  Take that as you think I mean it, because you’re probably right.  I’d be on my own again at 37 years old, and that’s a little scary.  I’m used to the Crazy that is my life as it is, even a move toward something less painful and difficult would be a big scary change, so I waffle.  A lot.

Not that I’ve ever backed off a challenge before this.  Especiallly when it comes to geographical changes.  I’m less prone to moving to a new state just because it’s Tuesday these days, but a lot of *that* comes from having so much stuff anchoring me to one place at a time.  And two weeks in hotels, living with literally a suitcase and an office-in-a-bag has shown me in a real, concrete way that all the Stuff is just that…*stuff*.  I can get by with not-so-much of it, and still be happy and creative and productive.

How you do anything is how you do everything.
T. Harv Eker

I tend to live like I knit:  I start things, try on projects and lives for a while, get a feel for them and see if it’s something I want to commit to before I dive in with both feet, obsess until it’s done, and love the finished object with all its mistakes and flaws, all the while trying on other things for size, just to cement the fact that I’m in the right place/time/project for me.

I cast on North Carolina in early December.  Memorized its stitch pattern and the feel of the fabric.  Compared it to both reality and the ideal.

And I think it’s a project I want to take on.

I had other plans for this entry.  The Eker quote, above, left me a little freaked out at the way I tend to do small things and how it reflects the way I do big things, but honestly — that’s not where my mind is.  I’m in a state of redesign, refiguring the stitch counts of my life and the yarn I’m using to make this crazy blanket, and really…there’s no point judging the finished object from a swatch.

2009 looks like it’s going to be onehellofayear.