Shouldn't Ought To Let No Stranger Do It

Wow.

Where to start?

I’m a little rusty at this, so I’ll have to ask you to bear with me while I get my legs back. But here’s a short list of the things I’ve done in the month or so this blog has been a gaping hole in cyberspace:

· Got my motorcycle license (but not a motorcycle).

· Continued seeing The Kid (but realized I’m not ready for A Man).

· Finished my book (but it’s about 75% wrong and I’m starting over).

· Become a diehard regular at Hawg Heaven (but they’re probably closing soon).

· Joined a pool team (but I suck on match nights).

· Saw my first moose (but did not crash the car, thanks very much).

· Received a Terminal Prognosis for Boy Cat (but he’s hanging in for now).

· Been to the Fryeburg Fair (but I lost my favorite pendant there, boo hoo).

· Ridden bitch on a Road King (but that was with The Man, and I don’t blame him if he doesn’t let me do it anymore).
· Got a new tattoo (but I'm not showing it to you. Yet.).

· And transferred my legal residency to Maine (but—

That’s right.

You heard me:

I’m not moving to New York.

I’m staying here.

I know.

I know!

I know I know I know. I was all “I am moving to New York City by the end of the year.” Blah blah blah. You know what I’ve learned? That was just a plan for the sake of a plan, and sometimes you don’t have to follow through on things just ’cause you said. And it turns out I don’t need a faster pace, I need a slow one. I need peace and quiet. I need trees. Cows. I need long walks and fresh air and full moons and stars. Oh, my lord, the stars. And I need people. People who might get an apostrophe wrong once in a while but whom you can take at face value and who’ll come to your house and shoot your dog for you when he can’t walk or hold his water anymore.

Not my dog. Jeez! Charlie’s still walking and barking and burping and farting and holding his just fine – sorry to scare you. But when Boy Cat’s time comes let’s just say I’ll know who I can call. They’re good people here. Good, honest, genuine, hard-workin’ folks. And I like ’em. Even if they do all vote Republican.

So I’m staying. In a month or so I’ll get some kind of job I don’t have to think about or take home with me – pumping gas, maybe, or stocking shelves, or wiping sweat off benches in a gym – and I’ll fill you in on that and everything in that short list above in the coming days and weeks and months and maybe years…

No matter how long I wind up staying here, though – even if I really do stay on forever, until I'm old and fat and toothless and skinning beavers with the three teeth left in my head – I promise you all this right here and now:

I will always heart Obama.

Hard.

There is, however, a tiny little chance I might decide to learn to shoot a gun.