Nothing like a 2 year writing hiatus, while MFN sits and collects some dust and a few cobwebs. Since the blog has emerged in conversation recently and seems to keep coming up I’ve found myself writing in my head again. This is where posts are born. I’m humming along, doing my thing (biking, kayaking, cooking, cleaning, showering, etc.) and suddenly words are being formed in my head and I’m forced to stop what I’m doing and capture them (or not, and allow them to vanish).
This hasn’t happened much the last couple years, as I’ve been in major transition. If you read my last post you know old Leon found me while I was looking at a house for sale on the Alabama gulf coast. Subsequently, I found a lovely home in one of my favorite little towns on Pleasure Island, about 30 miles from my encounter with Mr. N-U-L-L.
I bought said home and left Knoxville (and yes, the good man I married, from whom I’m happy to say I had the most amicable parting in the history of divorce – a testament to two people who truly loved each other but just weren’t compatible for the long haul), and spent the last couple years settling into my new city, which likes to refer to itself as “A quaint little drinking town with a fishing problem” (though I don’t think we have the monopoly on that description).
It’s been an interesting couple of years, filled with some of the highest highs and the lowest lows I’ve experienced thus far in my life. Oddly the biggest extreme between hitting the low and subsequently reaching the high was amazingly short. I attribute this to a number of things, not the least of which was finally asking for help when I needed it. To that end I’d be remiss not to give a shout out to my dear friend Wendy, who heard that request and responded in spades. As did many others (all of whom I hope will forgive my omitting their names here – you know who you are and I love and thank you all).
Additionally, finding a fun, amazing, eclectic and very accepting group of locals has been like discovering an oasis in the desert. Not to knock Knoxville, because I know many people are happy there, but in 7 years I’m not sure I managed to accumulate more than 5 or 6 people I’d call “friends.” Here on the island, however, it’s like I’ve always known these people. Is that the island mindset, or is it that people who would make the choice many others only talk or dream about (moving to the beach) are just more likely to be MY kind of people?
What I can say for certain is that I have a TON of observations and stories to share from my short time here. Many days it feels like I opened up a fantastic novel and, rather than reading from the outside, physically wandered into the middle and became part of it, “Neverending Story” style.
So here is my “housecleaning” blog post… dusting off the cobwebs and shining her up again. Here’s me, rolling up the sleeves and blowing off the fingertips as I put them to keyboard and begin to let the thoughts once again take shape somewhere besides my journal (and my “Dear Wendy Diaries” – but that’s another story).