Ha Ye

Haw Ye. That's how we pack mules say hello.

Once upon a time when I was young it seemed so easy to identify my favorite things. What's your favorite color? Red. What's your favorite food? Pork Chops. What's your most prize possession? Red Cowboy Boots. What's your favorite animal? A Horsey. If you could be any animal on this earth, which animal would it be? A Horsey but, if that's not available, a Lioness.

But, alas, I believed in fairy tails back then too.
Aw Hell.
Ahem. I meant Ha Ye. It is a pack mule's life for me.

As the years passed I met a few tame and ferrel horses and found that image that embodies freedom in which they gallop free is as much a fairy tale as Little Red Riding Hood. As the years passed the sharpness to which I favor things has also dimmed. I like red but, not like I did when I was seven and I could have coated the world with the brightest shade of it.

Remember when you were a kid and you thought your parents were lucky to be grown ups because they could do "what ever they wanted." Whatever included things like cutting your own meat or going out to dinner while you stayed home with the fish sticks and the stranger they called a baby sitter. Or watching that show on television to which you are not old enough to watch.

So it is no secret that one of the first things we learn as an adult, is that being an adult is overrated. That, you don't really get to do whatever we want, especially once we have our own kids and/or embark on career.

Ha Ye. There's been a couple of times this week in which I wish I were my cat. She seems to embody the freedom that matched my favorite fairy tales. Gets away with mayhem like scratching apart toilet paper rolls and snacking off the counter. She takes flight and attacks her prey, which is also the Ass that feeds her and lets her in and out of shelter whenever she wants.

For my cat there is no staying between the lines or climbing the ladder. And, with envy I say to her as we pass, "Ha Ye" which is sounds like, "Hey bitch." I am just a little jeleaous.

The weather has been primo. The moon comes up and is as bright as it gets. I wanted like nothing else to take a little pokey drive off the pavement last night. Sit and listen to my heart beat and take a few deep breaths of quiet. But, I didn't.

Ha Ye. In my adulthood I come to recognize restless. It is about the boundaries, real and imagined I have set for myself. How heavy a load and how far?

Now don't think this pack mule is Eyore from Whinnie the Poo. I never saw Eyore carry a diaper bag that weighed more than her kids for three years. Or endure anything but obscurity. And obscurity ain't me.
Naw Ye. I like the fact that this side of adulthood I know how to trudge through anything when it is hard; find forage in a harsh environment. I can eat tumbleweeds for breakfast.

And, one of these nights I will go out and take a deep breath of wild Nevada and come back feeling like a phone that's been on the charger all night. Ready to help carry the heavy load in good cheer.

Ha Ha Ye. Just know I can give a good head jerk or a thick kick when driven too hard. And when I am loud....I am obnoxious. A good bit of me can be an Ass and has been an  ass over something so benign as being restless. Whatever I want is not always what I want, or what it is cracked up to be. HA. yE. Its a pack mule's life for me.

So what is this about? It has been a whole year now for the Dancing Tumbleweed Blog. Ha Ye. Happy Birthday to me! I began it without many expectations...and tiny faith in my design to be caught in the moment, with the wind at my back...I meant to take a chance.
Ha Ye. The tumbleweed just had to dance.

I feel like my mission was accomplished. I have many Tumbleweed wishes for the year to come. Among them, I plan to celebrate my favorite place to be when I am not a pack mule.
Ahem. Free. Bouncing along like a tumbleweed, planting seeds as I go, caught in nothing but the moment.

Loves,
HjB