Music, Parenthood, and Death

Yesterday was a day of ups and downs. Dave is in Austin for the SXSW Music Festival. While he is gone I get a taste of single parenthood. Wow. Honestly some of it is easier and some of it is tougher. Yesterday morning on the way to school (after a terrific meltdown about panties, pants, socks and shoes... whatever), a squirrel ran across the road in front of us. Here is the ensuing conversation:

Jessie: "Did we hit it?"
Me: "No, we missed him."
Jessie: "It's a girl."
Me: "I didn't see that close." (Thinking of something I was not going to say to my four year-old)
She didn't miss a beat: "I did, but I didn't see her eyelashes."

That's how you tell the boy squirrels from the girl squirrels doncha know.

The rest of the day was normal... until I went to get her from school at 6:00 and found that the minivan had been egged. After we got home from school I checked Dave's car on the street and it had been hit twice too. What the hell. The only neighbors I have ticked off are the ones with the dogs and I haven't done anything to them recently. This morning I checked with a neighbor down the street (her name is Java, she was on her way back from Jupiter Coffee... some low-lying fruit are just too good to pass up) and though she hadn't been hit she saw lots of eggshells on the street. So I felt less violated.

Why are many acts of random scattered violence easier to accept and feel like less of a violation than a single one is/does? Because we are, in fact cattle, and it's nice to be in the herd? Well, if I have to be in the herd I will picture myself as a gazelle. I could go down the whole path of being from Montana where Men are Men, Women are Scarce and Sheep are Nervous again but... oh wait, I just did. Anyway, that's a flock, not a herd.

Dave being gone always makes me think of all kinds of weird things. This morning's topic (unsurprisingly) was what I would do if Something Bad Happened To Dave. Skip past all the suicidal depression part because that Would Not Be An Option because of the Sprout. Dating for about 15 years does not feel like an option either, but that is a separate and much less important topic. No, today I obsessed about where I would live and VERY surprisingly I thought that I would not move. Even though we have only lived here for three years, we have very good (old and new) friends and a good support system. I would both have to and be able to get a real job again. Jessie has friends and we could put our lives back together more easily here than we could elsewhere (e.g., in Montana by my parents, in Chicago by Dave's and old friends, in Austin by old friends, or somewhere new with no one). How odd. Here I am thinking I am struggling daily to leave here, and when I really focus on it, it doesn't seem like such a desirable idea.