Saturday, November 12, 2011

Hagar the Horrible. It's a Vikings' life.

I love it here. My job is good. My home is comfy, cozy, coffee by the fireplace kind of warm. There has not been a whole lot of time to enjoy it. I mentioned before that one side of my Americanized mutt family is of Italian decent. The other half of ancestry is heavily Scandinavian.

So, setting forth on the sea of sagebrush with a whole new life on the horizon was pretty damn exciting for the Viking inside me. When it comes to that kind of adventure, I stick my iron helmet on, and stick out my sword and make sail. No matter the outcome I am not scared. I am along for the ride. I always have been.

The only thing that trumps my natural inclination to go with the flow is my claim to Captain of this Pirate Ship. And to that claim, I am not a natural. I hang on to it--for dear life.

The Captain's responsibilities are great and the stress of this last bit of life, (ahem, adventure) on the rest of the family, is not lost on me. And there did come one of those lost in space moments when I realized I had to throw anchor on my own adventure, so to speak, and make focus. Ah, ha. Just because I am not scared does not mean the same for all of us in the boat.

Hell, I know in the long run I will be more free to enjoy the adventure, if I do the work first.  

True. There has been plenty of rewards in this work. It was irony when my almost3 year old son  found a Hagar the  Horrible comic book and would not loose sight of it for two days. I might not have noticed that before.

Still, all that work makes a person thirsty for fun. Today, that "viking blood" inside me was restless. It is like a tickle in the back of the throat. I am overdue for a sunny day with my camera and a dirt road. When I am trying to stay on the focus-wagon I try to drive away the tickle with whatever is handy. After I vacuumed for a few minutes I decided to just take the boys out for a little desert walk. It is but a short distance to get off the pavement from our house.

And little fresh air never hurt anyone. Right? So, camera in hand, we were on our way. We were not even out of the driveway before the complaining started.

After we traveled a football field's length away from the house and off the pavement the complaining escalated to crying. From one child or the other, and sometimes both. Suddenly the dog is deaf and is doing whatever he wants to. The cat is poking along behind us, terrified.

One wants to go this way. The other wants to go another.
They say "My feet are tired."
"Carry me."
"I want to go home."

It was not as satisfing as I had imagined it would be...

When we got home I dug out the last piece of candy from Halloween and broke it in half for them to share. I had thought it a great way to end the crying. Just so you know, an almost three year old Hagar whose legs hurt, does not appreciate the breaking of candy. And so the crying went on for some time. Even the iron viking helmet of mine could not block it out.

I did what I could do as Captain of this Pirate ship. I took two DayQuil capsules with a Monster Energy Drink as a back. I am pre-heating the oven so we can bake cupcakes after lunch. It is the weekend and I will "heel" to them, this time, so I can earn my turn. Ahem. Today the Captain knows she just has to be along for the ride.

So if it is not home, work or kids I am (possibly) not ready for more yet. I guess WildNevadaGirl has to keep my butt on the focus-wagon. You know, the focus-wagon: it carries priorities and is pulled by faith. Faith that a little sacrifice and determination will reap rewards... Well, I better get back to it. Perhaps I will take a picture for next time.