The beat goes on and on and on

I'm in a holding pattern in regards to the foreclosure and Wells Fargo wanting me gone. The bank's realtor, who said he wanted to take photos of the interior of my villa for my protection, left a somewhat garbled message saying he filed my lease and area comps with someone (couldn't get the name) and now he's "on the sidelines." I should have known there was no protection for me. This is one of those times in my life when I have to leave it up to God or the Universe or whatever because this is beyond me to figure out. I know I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, peering down into a ragged rock-strewn chasm, but, maybe, just maybe, there's a bridge that I can't see yet just waiting to reveal itself when the timing is right. Hope so because this is a helluva way to live.

On walking the Georgia part of the Appalachian Trail -- I must think I'm superwoman. I thought I could walk the 76 miles in four days. What was I thinking? Maybe if it was a straightaway, I might be able to do it, but not in the Chattahoochee National Forest. I just watched a documentary about a group of people (with hiking experience, which I do not have) in California who decided to walk the entire 216-mile John Muir Trail. It took them 10 days to hike about 80 miles. Of course, they needed to stop to film since they were making the documentary and one of their people dropped out (the one without hiking experience) so they brought him to a road so he could walk home or get a ride or something. But still, it showed me that my expectations for the Appalachian Trail are totally off-base and just plain fantasy. In the "Step by Step: An Introduction to Walking the Appalachian Trail" document found on the Appalachian Trail Conservancy website, it said that a novice should be able to hike 7-8 miles a day. It would definitely take 10 days to complete the Georgia part of the Trail, that's for sure. I don't have that kind of time, so I'm thinking I'll walk just three or four days of the Trail, and then call it a day. I don't have a burning desire to walk the entire Trail -- just a touch of it is fine enough for me. Even to accomplish that much would be so much more than what I am doing now, which is about nothing -- except for the normal rush-and-roll of everyday city living.

Since I have to move wherever soon, I have been packing, packing, packing. I sure have a lot of stuff. Every time I move I think I should get rid of all this stuff, but the trouble is I like my stuff. I'm a stuff girl. Just can't do the simple, empty Zen thing. I tried it once a few years back, and all I did was buy more stuff to fill the stuff-less places. My cats are getting nervous. I think the older ones understand what the boxes, the chaos, and my anxiety means. After all, we just moved 2-1/2 years ago. The young one has no idea what's going on, and he doesn't seem too concerned, but my 18-year-old cat is having a difficult time. He's vomiting and howling, and he comes up to me looking nervous and scared. I tell him it will be like the last time - I will put him in a box and take him with me. No worries, little Oz, no worries. Now, I just have to find a nice, safe, quiet place with a landlord who will accept my cats and me because we're a family, and that's that.

Oz (when he was about 12 years old)