I find myself in the throws of some major procrastination. I tell myself that fooling around with this cyber journal is a good thing. I should write more, journaling is good, I am setting up a discipline, and I am giving my friends an opportunity to know what we are up to because I am terrible at letter writing. All of which are good and notable things in themselves. To me, they are just monoliths of avoidance. I am creative and artful in ways that even I don't understand.
We have just returned from 2 1/2 months living in a tent, mostly, and selling M's artwork at The Florida Renaissance Festival. Since we travel so much and live on an island I realize now that I thought my life was soooo alternative and fringe. Well I was wrong!!! I met people way more fringe than us!!!!! It was a good mind expanding experience to meet people who live on the road all year long and call some extraordinary vehicles home. Anything from the conventional RV to converted transit busses to carports that can taken apart and stored in vans. What a community, it was glorious!!
Ah, but here I am back living in our apartment in Saratoga Springs in a very "neighborhoody" neighborhood. I walked to the post office last week and was struck with how routine life is for most of the people I was passing on the road. It's strange to be back here and living inside and being surrounded by many other people living inside going to work every day and sending their children off to school five times a week. I feel like I'm a alien stuck in an ant farm. I harbor no ill feelings toward my fellow human. I just feel disoriented and wonder how I slipped out of the mainstream.
I am suppose to be packing up the apartment, prodding the children to do the same, cleaning out the cellar (which is slightly flooded), and creating back splashes for the bathroom and kitchen. I am suppose to wake up ready for the days challenges and what am I doing?! I am creating a blog. Just so that I can creatively procrastinate and not do all the labor that is mine and goes with my life on the road!! We leave in 5 weeks for our Western home on Lopez. As always there is too much to do before we reap the awards of being there!!!! Blessings....V

Well I have gray hair and at 42 I have become contemplative. As I see my peers rush to their hair dressers and to CVS for the latest quick fix in age reduction, I think. Why be ashamed to show the world that you have had life experiences? I know that my gray started as we (husband know as "M" and I) naively thought it would be fun and creative to build our own house. I think that I've gotten grayer every month that I've balanced the check book since. A few really white ones have popped out over the worry and stress I have experienced with my girls (they are "A" and "X"). And how about the white streams I have coming out of my temples..they are directly related to my not so great relationship with my mother.
I have buried a wonderful father-in-law, a superb feline friend, a handful of friends, and a loving canine. I have been to many blissful weddings, scores of fabulous parties, family camping trips, sat by dozens of bonfires with my marshmallows in hand, had lots of great orgasms, and have traveled alot..ALOT. I have had my share of really embarrassing moments and have been known to really stick my foot in my mouth to the tune of some great grey whoppers. Every adventure, every high, every low is an array of gray atop my head like an ethereal halo of honor. It says, "Hey, look at me. I've lived and am still living."
I wish there were more women out there with their own personal badges of gray. Besides if I did color my hair, I know that the day I stopped and saw my true color I'd probably die of the shock.