Starting Over

I didn't cry Saturday.  By 'cry' I mean those gut wrenching sobs that take your breath away and leave you bleary-eyed and snubbing for hours. Tear up? Oh yeah, I can tear up anytime. Change has always been hard for me, I like things to be predictable, repetitive, even boring.  The last year has been none of those things.  Lots of changes. Lots.  Loosing Mom in October was the hardest thing I've ever faced. Jim's campaign for State office. Leaving behind my kids, grandkids & a home I lived in longer than any other in my life was pretty hard too.  Watching the love of my life leave for Iraq, then come home a different person, though it was back in 2007-2008, still has profound effects on our lives. But, when an opportunity comes, seemingly, out of thin air, bringing with it all the security and promise you've been waiting for, you shouldn't turn it down. Be careful what you pray for!

So here we are, 1400 miles away from Covington, Tennessee; friends, family & all things familiar.

Sheridan, Wyoming. Steeped in the history of the old West, Buffalo Bill, Indian wars and Rodeo. Set at the foot of the Big Horn Mountains. It is beautiful here.   Named for a Yankee General. Bless their hearts. Jim bought a mobile home here in Sheridan, it was more economical than motels & is working out to be a good investment. Our furniture won't be here till the end of June so while the accommodations are a bit sparse, they are comfortable. The décor is sort of rustic Mary Englebriet. There are hosts of baby angels cut from wallpaper arrayed in various formations throughout the house. The master bathroom has picket fence wallpaper replete with flowers and butterflies enhanced with a billion painted on tiny black and white polka dots. A platoon of baby angels hovers on the wall between pickets and polka dots. The living room/kitchen has brownish faux painting and wall paper with branding iron designs. Baby angels hover watchfully nearby. The main bathroom has a lodge theme, with faux finish walls, bear & pine tree stenciling, and it's own company of baby angels guarding the washer and dryer. ( I hear the winters are crazy long up here so I can see myself cutting motifs out of wallpaper and pasting them about or painting dots on everything that can't run away) Add the carpet and laminate wood floor Jim put down and you have a pretty good idea of our little trailer house. In fact it is the first house I've ever lived in with a white picket fence. But the story just begins here...Our real adventure is the house Jim bought in Story, Wy. It is about 15 miles south of Sheridan, a little village of old hippies, artists, craftsmen and now a couple of Southern Conservatives with a splash of redneck. Here we go

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