Don’t be surprised at my ability to let go. I have outgrown you, yes, but you were never quite able to keep up with me. I was much too cosmopolitan for you, too fast, too ambitious.

I was never really able to quiet down and relax the way you could. After years of your company, I still drove fast, worked hard, and partied harder. I took part in all you had to offer and, when that was not enough, I created, produced, and promoted more. I used up one part of you like a tissue and moved on to another. In 15 years, I lived in 12 different areas; in 15 years, I had 10 jobs; in 15 years, I had 3 major relationships, 2 of them married.

Truth is, the only reason I could live with you as long as I did is because I left you often. By plane and by automobile I went to see what lie beyond you. When I came back, I was still restless, but I my travels kept it in check.

I made it seem okay, because I thought there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go. The truth is, I was afraid to go anywhere else. Being comfortable has its allure. I have no regrets for staying on.

With you, I became a rather large fish in an increasingly small pond, which suited me and helped me blossom into a full woman. It is with you I became Diva, both in name and in personality. It is with you I found my will to survive while others around me fell. It is with you I discovered the depth of my own darkness, a cavern I am still exploring and probably will the rest of my life. It is with you I learned to lead with diplomacy and benevolent dictatorship. It is with you I lost a few battles but realized my ability to win the war. It is with you I came to know my own power.

It took your quiet strength for me to see all these things. There is no way I could survive where I am now without all the lessons I learned while in your embrace. You are beautiful and charming in your way, but you are just not for me. We never were truly compatible, but we made it work.

It’s over. The house sold today. Thank you for finally letting me go.

Goodbye, Albuquerque.

We got an offer on the house.

We have tickets to a pre-season hockey game this Thursday.

The glass feels half full today. I’m tempted to stay home to ensure it remains so.

Rumor has it someone is interested in seeing the floor plans of the house in New Mexico …… this as a preliminary step to making an offer on it.

With high hopes, I went home tonight and:

threw salt over my shoulder
prayed above
stayed away from black cats, ladders, and anything with a 13 in it
rubbed a rabbit’s foot
stuck a coin in the money frog’s mouth
crossed my fingers (which makes typing really fun!)
picked up a lucky penny
plucked a four-leafed clover
lit a candle
prayed below
sacrificed a chicken

Did I forget anything?

My car now has Colorado plates on it.

My Colorado driver’s license will be mailed to me within 2-3 weeks.

I will be filing Colorado taxes this year.

I wish I could say it felt weird or different, but it feels good. Like home. I haven’t felt like I was at home in a loooooong time.

BUZZING UNDIES MAKE SHOPPER FAINT

A spokeman for the supermarket chain told Sun, “We like to think shopping with us is exciting enough already.”

Supposedly reported in The Sun, the infamous London tabloid, but I can find no reference to the story on their site. It’s not on Snopes though, so it may actually be true. Either way, it’s damned funny.

I’m going to make a CD of music for my niece. This first song on it is going to be Dennis Leary’s Life’s Gonna Suck When You Grow Up.

Yeah, she’s only 6 months old, but it’s never too early for music. Trust me.

Of course, add a few They Might Be Giants tunes and she’ll have a full CD in no time. Maybe I’ll just have to put together a library of tunes for her. The Auntie Diva CD-a-month Club.

No angst-ridden goth until she’s about 12 though. No reason to create a little nihilist before her time.

Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk. Don’t post when you’re drunk.

Seriously.

Everyone has secrets.

PostSecret is a site for those who want to confess theirs.

By snail mail and totally anonymously.

Don’t go if you don’t like angst … and a lot of it.

Your Religion: Donations recommended. Or Else.
Our Religion: Free of charge. Free of guilt.

Your Religion: You get fire and brimstone if you do it wrong.
Our Religion: They get gasoline and napalm if you do it right.

I found a link to Tomorrow’s Saints Television in my Favorites folder tonight. I don’t remember where it came from, but I’m glad I kept it.

See more at Hardcore Presents.