Grapple, Crapple

I'm grappling with some issues lately that are hard to sort out. A friend approached me about a position that might be interesting, but I know it's not what my heart wants me to do. Hubby is panicking because we have a ginormous AmEx bill due tomorrow and a lack of funds to pay it. Most of it is from our quarterly taxes, so I'm waiting for some invoices to be paid before I can be paid before AmEx can be paid. Ugh. I hate this part of self-employment.

So that sucks right now. This leads me to ponder various money making schemes ranging from a part time job to selling a kidney. Not sure which one would be more painful. It's just a temporary thing, this money issue. Come the end of November, we'll be rolling in it like Scrooge McDuck. Taking a part time job would be hard for me, almost like admitting that I can't do this. Like I'm a failure. Am I?

I think about leaving, moving to the middle of nowhere and living in a trailer with solar panels and a well. Actually, I think about moving back to Tucson quite regularly. Oddly enough, my friend Cameron posted about it this morning. I do miss it, in the way we all miss the place we came from. Especially at this time of year, when I know that it's cooling off. Or during the monsoons. Or in the early morning, when there's a pink glow reflecting off the mountains. Or when it rains, and the sweet smell of creosote bushes hints at your nose. I have in my mind that Tucson is the small town that I grew up in, but in reality, it is almost as big as Denver. Census records indicate that nearly 500,000 people live there. The metro area is pushing 900,000. By 2010, it'll hit 1 million.

And then I would miss all that I love about Colorado. My friends. My life. My little house. DU hockey on Saturday night. Changing seasons. The brilliant, white-capped mountains rising over the plains, framed by a cloudless blue sky. Crunching leaves under your feet as you rake the yard. Ski season. Snowy days with hot chocolate and snuggling hounds.

It's the memories of an easier time that pull me back. When I'm struggling to figure out my next steps, it's easy to think that moving somewhere, or changing something, or giving up and going home will make a difference. But I'll still be there, no matter where I go. And I'm the person that has to deal with me.

Muster on. Tally ho. I have work to do this week and no time to sit and wonder about the 'what ifs.'