Awake and Dreaming

I must dedicate some time and space to the phenomonen that is "Mule Day'.

Found online by Mr Evans on  a webpage which collates fun local Nashville events, Mule day was added to our calendars. With the decision made that Saturday jobs could wait until  the afternoon, we left Emma sleeping in and made our way to the countryside.

The following images pay tribute to the slice of America we encountered.

Home made icecream churned by an old John Deere engine.

Making friends with Bailey the rescue dog

It echo'd in the cowhide and the cowboy themed welcome wreaths.
It squealed through the children as we abandoned the food rules to eat, corn dogs, 'danger dogs' and slurp on shaved ice. 

We learnt interesting facts such as you cannot make  a mule with a mule. It is strictly the rendevous of horse and donkey that will result in this stubborn, strong, long eared creature. I narrowly managed to avoid a full birds and bees discussion. I'm just not ready for that one yet!. I felt a little like my father must have when  talking with my brother all those years before and I realised how such a garbled story about a daddy dog, with a present for the mummy dog must have formed and fallen from his lips.

We saw horses bejazzled. WIth glitter painted hooves, coloured manes and croqueted ear peices, complete with a matching barbie cowgirl on top.
We bought beef jerky and corndogs, then sent the kids jumping on fairground rides, which possibly was not the best order but we seemed to get away with it. We watched mule pulling and tasted jambayala. It was with weary feet we headed for home. E lamented that she hadn't been able to actually ride a mule or on a wagon and magically at that moment two wagons came down the road. They were headed our direction but were not in public service.

G looks uncertainly at the fox skin hanging over the rail.

I called to the lady in  the back as we walked alongside and she agreed it would be ok for the children to jump on until the end of the road. The driver didn’t' get the memo through and had no intention of stopping so I picked up the pace and swung the kids up onto the wagon seat. Little eyes lit up as they rode along and a little further up, as the wagon rounded the corner we reached in to pluck our children back cowboy style from the moving wagon and head towards home.

And that folks, was mule day.

Travelling as we are doesn't allow for much alone time. We live in one pretty little lego block of many, built into long and wide lines, surrounded by concrete sidewalks and thin lines  of  green.

We share meals, space, emotions and questioning together. We join in laughter and tread carefully around frustrations.So far, it's working. however I was glad of four days left to my own devices, working in San Antonio.

As I left, I mused about time away. I will walk to the convention centre at the pace I set, eat where I choose, work and then come home to silence and time to process. Bliss. All by myself.

This desire to have alone time is an evolving process for me. I understand the importance of community and support but  over the last few years, I have become more comfortable with my own company, a tricky thing for an extrovert!. I am learning to live as an authentic version of me and I'm liking this more and more. This version still makes plenty of mistakes, but is hopefully a little smarter about recovering from them than in years gone by. She feels strongly but tries harder to hold her tongue when under pressure. This version of me is moved to action but realises that sometimes it is a process rather than just a project and she tries to build more with an eye for the future and sustainability. I was looking forward to a few days away with that kind of girl.

The convention I attended was slow but worthwhile all things considered. I was surrounded by aged funeral directors, which is an occupational hazard. I re-connected with one of our first American clients and was reminded of how things progress in ways we couldn't have seen or imagined. After dinner one evening a group of us took  the riverboat cruise which winds through the picturesque canals, set below the city streets.


The evening drew to a close at a lively duelling piano bar where funeral directors cut loose, unfettered by phones that may call them away from the revelry to the sombre business of dealing with the dead.

I have no desire to wind my way drunkenly down a street and spend the next morning caressing a toilet bowl  but there is a comradery about a few glasses of something strong. Ever more when surrounded by those who love you. And so it was in this place where I most missed my sisters. It took me back to new years eve where loved ones spread in the eclectic range of chairs across mum and dads back lawn, sipping sangria. I found myself reminiscing about the evening where the three of us went out together, sisters bonded through blood, arguments, shared trials, hilarity and love. We shared stories about our parents and when we text mum to tease them, our father replied to say we were  all beautiful. So of course we sent him a very unflattering photo back. I have for the sake of my sisters dignity, and my own, only shown the first of those two images. 

p.s - don't complain about this photo sisters! Its the only one I could find.. thereby proving we need to have more nights out like this and photo ops together. xx

That is the part of being away that is hardest. It is not a house or a car or a job that I miss. It is the pieces of my heart that lift their heads from the pillow many hours after my day has begun. So it seems even in my alone time love haunts me. Like a thick blanket memories of togetherness wrap about me and it is warm and delightful. I am wrapped too in divine companionship, with ancient words of wisdom echoing in my heart. One can put to flight one thousand, but two, ten thousand. 
Another reminder that together is always better.