Back on February 11th, when I posted the first entry here on what was then my first blog in several years, my friend Wicki said she thought it signified that I was ready to get back into life, to put myself back into the world in a way that left myself open to new adventures and experiences that I had been avoiding hermited away here in the cabin. Based on the months subsequent to that initial post, I’d have to say (as my late husband Bruce would have Mallapropped,) Wicki hit the nail on the nose.
I have had some amazing adventures this year: the Damien Center in Albany… two months on a Caribbean Island… writing a play in three days and seeing it up on stage—in a full production—mere months later… and now getting ready for whatever happens next with the show. (And that last truly is up in the air at this point. We’re all trying to figure out exactly what is next on the agenda for Canned Ham. Stay tuned.) Not to mention a feeling of restlessness here in the woods of upstate New York; I’ve spent more time in the city since returning from Saba than I have in the past few years put togther.
Of course, my financial position is a mess. A mess. I mean, you people have no idea! I guess there’s just something congenitally wrong with me, though, because I can’t seem to get myself worked up about it. I suppose I’m a true believer in the maxim “you can’t take it with you.” Of course, in my case it would be “you can’t take nothing with you,” but it would simply kill me to go to my grave with a grammatically incorrect epitaph.
But where am I going with this rambling? This long, long-overdue entry on The Fabulous Tom Judson Blog?
I’m going here: of all the the goings-on in my life this year that have proved Wicki right, the most surprising to me is that I seem to be dipping a tentative toe back into the River of Romance. The Pond of Passion. The Lagoon of Lurve. I haven’t dated anyone in seven years (almost to the day) and that time it didn’t end pretty. In fact, it left me completely gun-shy about The Boyfriend Thing at all.
So imagine my surprise when IT unexpectedly reared its ugly head once again. Ye olde heart sputtered and coughed and, rather jerkily, showed signs of life. (And I mean “jerkily.” I seem to be a little rusty at this stuff—I’ve already found a couple of opportunities to display my slightly-insane side. Oh, joy.)
It’s too soon for details (although the Facebook sleuths out there may be able to sniff out some clues) and who knows where it will lead? The whole thing may even crash and burn—I can be a real pain in the ass. (Don't worry--I don't think he reads anything I write, so I'm safe here.)
But for now it's terrific to look out the window at the leaves coming off the trees, floating gracefully down to Earth, and to feel that, well, I’m falling too.