Coveting Another's...

In the last few months I have discovered what covet truly means. As a good and faithful Sunday School attendee all my childhood and youth I knew it was one of the top ten. I found it a bit silly; no one could want what someone else has so badly the want will send them to Hell.

I grew up.

I have worked in a profession that is also my passion for 23 years.

Then my friend Dave quit his job and retreated to a cabin in the Rocky Mountains to edit the novel he had written on a previous sabbatical.

I covet his experience.

The introvert me covets the isolation.

The exhausted me covets the time.

The stressed-out me covets the escape.

Every time I encounter an unexpected situation; every time the stress begins to build, my mind asks, “where’s my cabin?” Coyotes, bears, and hailstorms be damned - they’re easier to deal with than people. I ponder the question, “what would happen if I loaded the car and left?”

The answer is immediate: the student loan people will still track me down.

The fantasy ends that quickly, but the coveting does not. I have been working in my house lately to build my own cabin. The garage (too small for a car, I don’t know what the builders were thinking) is becoming a workshop for handiwork crafts. My office finally has enough shelving that I do not have piles of books covering most of the floor, and as soon as I refinish the old wooden desk I have, I will have my personal reading and writing space. I do what I can with what I have.

None of this is far removed from society - I still hear the planes arriving and departing. There are no wild creatures - there are roommates. It is not the high altitudes of Colorado, but when my mind asks for a cabin, I’ll have an answer and maybe the coveting will move to wanting. I’ll plan a vacation accordingly.

The "Sucks to Get Old" Drawer

Recently the time for a change came to the drawers that hold my regular/easy access grooming and personal care products. As much as I dreaded doing it, convenience dictated that I reorganize.

Moisturizer lost it’s place as one of the first products I sought while preparing for the day, and muscle rub took its spot.

The “I Feel Pretty” drawer became the “Sucks to Get Old” drawer.

Potions replaced lotions.

I don’t know if I am more upset that muscle ache relief became such a vital part of my life or that the skin care products upgraded to most of a shelf in my linen closet.

What I really dread is the day that the anti-achey stuff expands to the shelf in the linen closet.

Lottery Bonanza

         In order to avoid as much holiday traffic as possible, I took the country-road route, as much as possible, back to Austin. The lack of traffic let my mind wander as I drove through pastoral landscapes. While taking in the beauty of undeveloped land, I merged fantasies of that landscape with the news that no one won the previous Powerball Lottery drawing. What would I do if I won $425+ million dollars?

         All my thoughts of luxurious, hedonistic living kept returning to trucks, tractors, and cows. If I won the lottery I would buy a ranch and spend the rest of my life working on it. As much as my mind could imagine, all I wanted was land, and cows, and big motorized toys. The more I thought about it, the nicer it sounded.

         I could work in the pasture all day letting my mind wander as it would, then come home in the evening and write. My best writing always comes following physical labor. Phrases and sentences simmer in the thought soup that bubbles away while my body labors at tasks that do not require much mental attention. Particularly good ones I jot down as they occur; others, I let refine.

         Of course, I love my career in education, so it would be hard for me to leave the students behind. With the lottery money, I would not really have to work for pay. I could just go into the local school and teach writing workshops. I enjoyed teaching writing much more than literature anyway. Experiencing the creativity of others is as rewarding as coming across my own perfect phrase to end the paragraph being composed.

         On my trip to see my family I listened to a series of stories based on Americans in the artist colony of Paris in the early parts of the twentieth century. Thoughts of those stories expanded my ranch vision. Beyond baling hay and raising cattle, I would host parties. With $425 million I could afford some guest quarters. They always had room for passers-by on Bonanza: I surely could too. The question I could not resolve was, “extra rooms in the big house, or separate guest houses?”

         I like my privacy. I will probably go with separate guest houses.

         And if my ranch is in Texas, I will need a Cadillac for driving to the big city so I can leave my truck out on the ranch.

         The more I considered the implications, the more I realized that winning the lottery is expensive. I do not know if I want to spend $2 on a ticket or not.

Runaway

Just over a week ago one of my friends fulfilled a fantasy I think everyone has from time to time.

He ran away.

Packed up his car. Started driving.

Ended up in New York, New York.

I cannot decide if he lost his freakin’ mind or is the most amazing person I know right now.

Still, the idea is growing more appealing as this week progresses. The program audit is next week. Honestly, do I really need to be there? I guess since I am the program coordinator, I should be.

But the idea of running away certainly is enticing as the stress of the week builds. New friends. New identity. New direction. Ahh the fantasy.

Nevertheless, if I were to run away, what really would I do differently? My work is my passion. I am equally passionate about my volunteer work. I love and cherish my friends - would I really make better ones somewhere else?

Our minds run to strange places as the stress mounts, but the best places are where the heart is, so I do not plan to go anywhere soon.