we'll rescue each other
Now with that said, here is what's new in this small life. I'm feeling better. Tuesday night was a horrible argument with the flu and I spent most of it either in the bathroom heaving or in bed with Jazz. He'd lay his wold head on my chest and let me scratch his ears, telling him in a sickness-induced delirium that he's cooler than Han Solo ever was in Empire, even after the part when he told Leia "He Knows." Two days of rest and a gallon of orange juice later and I'm me again. I don't take back the Han Solo comment either. Jazz is cooler.
Tomorrow I will mail out a small package/fancy begging container to the family that owns the cabin. I've collected local references, will write a note explaining about me and my hopes for the property, and a copy of my book. I'm hoping my intentions and the positive things I want to do with their land will help them decide to give me a chance.
While in a perfect world they'd want to sell to me, and a bank would grant me the loan—I need to be prepared for kind denial, a poor home inspection, or a solemn head shake from the bank. So many things can fall through...But there are all sorts of plan Bs in the works, too. Perhaps the cabin owners will allow a rent-to-own deal if the bank says no? And if they don't, a local reader and his family offered to let me (possibly) rent a cottage on their land and bring the animals along too. Which means that even if I can't buy now (though I pray it will work out) I may have a meantime home waiting for me. Just knowing that these two options have the chance to happen, helps me sleep better.
I was writing tonight about taking that first sheep class two springs ago when I first moved to Vermont. While writing about it I remembered the friend who told me about the class in the first place. Her name is Trish, and ever since she stopped working with me, I fell out of touch. Inspired by the memory, I looked her up in the phone book and called her. We talked for a while, and eventually I told her about the cabin. I told her how perfect it was, and how close I felt to having a place of my own. That I could practiaclly see the clawmarks in the air around me. She stopped me mid-sentence and told me (serious as a heart attack) '"Jenna? Did you know my mother is a mortgage broker?" I told her I did not...but could I have her number?! "Of course! HA! There is a reason you called!" she said, citing the kismet, making us both laugh. It was so good to hear from her again. And the weird coincidence felt like a second bar of a song I started writing ealier tonight when I picked up my last reference letter from Nancy over at Wayside. Things are slowly starting to happen, people.
The last bit of news I have to share is very good. Tomorrow I am getting a visitor. If you read Made From Scratch you might remember my mentor, Diana. (She's also a common commenter and forum member over at the Locals.) She's flying in from Idaho and we're spending the weekend together! Just a short trip, mind you, but a good one. There will be lots to catch up on. We haven't seen each other in almost two years, but by this time tomorrow I'll be waiting for her at the airport. It'll be good to have her back in my life for a little. Two years is a long time. Trish may meet us for coffee and yarntalk at Northshire. So, hey, how great did that work out?
Tonight I feel invigorated with the small possibilities that are starting to unfold. I am realizing with the help of my readers, solid faith in the future, and some stupid luck—I will land on my feet. A week ago I felt like the world was pulled out from under me, and while I'm still a bit shaky, I am starting to find my Foothold. A little hope is all this girl needs to stand a little taller.
And just between you an me, sometimes I lose my balance from the gratitude. It's a drunk and lovely vertigo. I dance to it, even when I fall down.