Sitting Here in Limbo

For any of you who have never listened to the "Harder they Come" Soundtrack- do so. Actually, watch the movie first. It's a classic.

I'm sitting here on a foggy Tuesday morning in sleepy Moscow, Idaho. Just had a lovely morning chat with Granny. We talked for a solid hour and a half. We covered everything from nutrition, growing up on a farm, her dad getting remarried, what my decision making process for grad school will be, to one of her favorite subjects- her records. She wanted me to listen to the "Amen" song. I love how much she loves those cheesy ass records. It used to annoy me, but now it just makes me laugh.

And if this isn't a metaphor for progress- I successfully put wood into the fireplace- without it smoking or Granny losing her mind! Huge. I notice that the more willing I am to compromise and accept Granny's idiosyncracies, the more she is willing to listen to what I say about nutrition, death, essentially all of the real conversations she has always seemed unable to have. 

You all may be saying 'duh', but I think with Granny  and her somewhat adolescent behavior it's always just so easily justifiable to get frustrated, mad, and basically tell her what to do. But like with the delicate dance of discipline with a teenager- I've had to learn to respect her independence (what she has left) and to try to put myself in her shoes. Ok, probably another 'duh', but a lot of this is experiential. 

Sitting with her this morning, I learned about her longtime desire to be a pastor's wife. She told about knowing pretty early on that she'd like to be a pastor's wife. Of course, when I asked more pointed questions, she couldn't really come up with any real experience or specific reason for why. She did mention that her pastor's wife was a real stand-up woman- someone she looked up to. Granny also talked about how free she felt growing up on the farm. She told of being able "to holler as loud as I wanted" and that "we had everything". I think of her experience growing up and how almost polar opposite it was for Gramps and his family.  In her words, "God makes us all so different!" 

Well, I'm rocking out to Josh Ritter on Pandora and waiting for Gramps to come back from Good Sam. He was up bright and early to go to the monthly men's breakfast that he loves so much. Last night I asked him what would be on the menu (knowing that pretty much it's the same thing everytime, but that Gramps loves listing things); "sausage, toast, eggs, orange juice, and hot chocolate", he listed. I love listening to him list things. He's so damned cute.

Speaking of cute, last night when I got back from work, Granny and Gramps both said they felt bad that they didn't have a cake or something waiting- so they would be taking me out to dinner tonight. Cute. Problem, of course, is I know that they want me to go where I want- but they don't want to spend money. Granny loves Applebees. Gramps loves anything cheap made at home. And then there's the aspiring, money-less epicure- me. So, as per the sort of spirit of compromise and collaboration that seems to be growing here at 489 Paradise Dr., I'm trying to think of something that would mostly fit for all of us. The Alehouse would be nice- but it's a bit loud. Nectar is where I'd really like to go- but, of course, it's spendier and kinda groovy. But the thought of stepping out with them there is very tempting and hilarious. We'll see. 

I'm enjoying the simple joy of being home, warm by the fire, still in my robe at 11 am. Sweet. Thinking about getting outside for some disc golf after the run to the dump. And thinking about the crazy, hilarious theatre students I met on the plane ride from Denver to Spokane who invited me to come out with them on Thursday night. There's a huge theatre competition going on this week at the U of I, and I'd love to catch some of it. It'd be a shame not to.

I have to share what my nerdy, hilarious celebration of getting into a PhD program entailed. My first reaction yesterday was to go out and celebrate with friends, champagne, and dancing- the sort of It's a Wonderful Life- kinda of thing. Then I realized- I don't have friends here. I don't want to drink champagne by myself. And, well...actually I did do some dancing by myself. But mostly I just felt exhausted. So I went right to my usual favorite thing to unwind- cheesy, uplifting cinema. So I made a fire in the basement. Had a beer. And then I snuggled into the green chair in the basement with my laptop and Billy Elliot. I laughed. I cried. And then I went to bed. Perfect. Totally perfect. That's such a great movie. Yes I know I am a huge movie dork- and I love it. 

Anyhow, I'm savoring the fact that today I will actually be writing Arkansas to let them know "thanks but no thanks". I will be writing Oregon to let them know I've been made an offer and that their program is still tops on my list. I will begin the next chapter of this crazy book I seem to be writing. Wild to think that last year (actually almost exactly) was when I took the GRE. I can still remember the gut-wrenching feelings of preparing, taking practice tests, wondering if I would, like so many, have to take the bloody thing over to get the kind of score that would be sufficient for PhD programs. And then the gut-wrenching feeling of sitting in the stodgy computer room in Bozeman taking the bloody thing for like 4 hours, the whole time having no real clue if things were going well or not, and then, at the end of the 4 hours, staring at the button saying "Would You Like to Accept Your Score?". Me thinking something like "holy shit", and really feeling clueless about what kind of a score I'd get. I moved the cursor on to the button and clicked. No way. No frickin' way was that my score, I thought. But it was. It is and I'm so blown away by the humbling process of pursuing a dream that's brought me here right now. 

Everyday I see Granny I'm reminded of the simple miracle of life. None of us know if we'll wake up. None of us know how the day will go. None of us know what lies in store. Everyone has their own relationship to the daily miracle of life- and that's what makes it so profound to share with each other. But having her (and Gramps) is such a blessing because it makes me confront the reality that it's not about whether we exactly achieve our specific dreams so much as it as about pursuing them, living each day fully, and openly sharing the experiences with the people in our lives. Of course, that's easy for me to say now that I've gotten my butt into Grad School. But it's also not not about achieving our dreams. But what the hell do I know?