Threads...

I was walking the critters this morning, my mind wandering as much as they were:  all over the place.  It is an amazingly beautiful day in Roseburg: blue skies, lots of warmth in the sun, really nice.  I was mulling over two conversations I've had recently, one with Jan (the BFF), the other with my sister.

It's approaching the time for me to sell the house and move on.  I have been torn--nearly in half--about whether to return to Scotland, or stay here in America.  There are many pro and con scenarios for both options, however, one true fact is indisputable:  If, by some wonderful twist of Fate, the house sells quickly, what do I do then..??  Where do I go..??  Where, dammit, do I belong..??

I have spent many a long hour on the internet, looking at towns across America, north to south, east to west.  I know where I don't want to live, but can't seem to settle on where I do.  And honestly..??  If I didn't have the dogs, was more fluent in the language, and didn't have a house full of stuff to deal with, I would just up stakes and move to Italy.

However.  Reality bites. 

Oddly, during these chats with Jan and my sister, they both brought up Coeur d'Alene (Idaho, for those of you who aren't familiar), as a viable possibility.  I actually lived in Cd'A for a winter, way back in time during my "Log Cabin in the Wilderness" phase (don't ask).  Jan lives further north, close to the Canadian border, way up the Panhandle.  My sister and her husband drove through there recently on a trip to Canada.  It is no longer the quiet little burg that I remember.  In fact, along with a couple other places I'm considering, Cd'A just might have some merit.  Sadly, nothing I find in the States will ever compare--in my mind--to Edinburgh, but I'm coming around to the realization that going back might not be the best thing for me to do.  Jury is still out.

Back to this morning.  Mulling, pondering, meandering along.  And here comes the part where I wonder if my brain is the same as everyone else's.  The threads in my mind are tangled and convoluted and sometimes even I am amazed how one tiny thought can lead me to where I end up.

Thinking about the two phone conversations takes me down this thread...follow it with me:

I'm remembering my little cabin on the south shore of Lake Coeur d'Alene.  At winter's end I moved north to Sandpoint, (into another cabin on Lake Pend Oreille), where I worked as a governess to three little boys who belonged to the local land baron.  A year later I moved to Seattle.  Jan and I meet at the publishing company, eventually we both end up with our guys.  Several years go by, she has moved to Idaho, and I am in the death throes of my relationship.  I begin writing again, for solace, to find answers.  I write a short story, a last ditch effort to get through to my guy, to make it clear we're facing extinction here.  He doesn't get it.  We're done.  Later, I send the story to Rolling Stone for consideration as it's about the impact music has had in my life.  They liked it, but thought it was too girlie.  Well duh.  I'm a girl.

Abruptly the thread stops.  I have arrived at the end of the tangle because now I'm wondering what has happened to that story.  Where is it?  When was the last time I saw it, read it?  I know I will have to search for it, though it's been years and two countries later.

Is this how thoughts go for other brains?  I start off thinking about selling my house and moving, and end up going through boxes of stuff in my closet looking for a lost story.  If I'm alone in this, please don't call the guys in white coats...just let me keep believing I'm not a weirdo.

The end of all this is...I found the story.  It's only about 2,600 words, not long.  I'm going to break it down and post it in a couple small parts.  So stay tuned.  And if anyone has a perfect place to call home for a wandering woman and two wee dogs?  Be sure to let me know...