26 June

SAN--LAX--SYD--CNS--GOV is a long way to travel alone. It takes a good 30 hours of travel to make this destination. But time is a funny funny thing.

I realize this will sound sappy and maybe even a little melancholy, but May and June were some challenging months for me--in terms of manic depression. Not real manic depression, like the kind that requires electro-shock therapy, but the kind that normal people experience. Real highs in the midst of serious lows. This is living.

May/June, 7 weeks spent away from Randy, the most time we have spent apart since we first got together in 1998. Of course, we did practice this apart thing in the early years, what with me living in DHS and he in San Diego, but a two hour commute is nothing compared to a trans-pacific one. I managed to rack up a $800 phone bill thanks to late night telephone calls that really only served to make the missing worse.

On the other hand, I practiced yoga more regularly than I ever have, managed to meet with many, many friends and reconcile a friendship that had previously been rather stagnant. Had good bonding time with the in-laws, saw several movies (Harry Potter twice once with each SD located brother) I went out to dinner so much that I was sure I was going to get "the gout." I worked an insane amount of hours, but still was able to travel to Utah to see my baby sister graduate, visit with the rats, and in general behave like a teenager coming and going at all hours of the night and occasionally checking the fridge for a pudding snack.

It was in a way like a vacation from reality. All I had to think about was myself. No wonder teenagers are so warped!

In the other meantime Randy managed to nearly kill himself when he bogged the Art Centre troopy while looking for crocodiles in the middle of the night with Markus. Maybe we were both behaving like teenagers! He also had a great time when Uncle Eric and Lori came to visit, and Tyler from Oregon.

In any case, I DIDN'T miss my plane back to Australia. And when I arrived in Gove, I found that I wasn't a teenager after all, but a wife, and a loved one.

And what a relief that was. 7 weeks apart from your spouse can really cause one to reflect, and I wondered and worried as I felt our lives becoming more and more different. There is some starting over after all that. Not in a bad way, but in a new way.

I used to find that making decisions about what to do with my life was easy, when I was younger. This is because when I was younger I was a teenager, I didn't have anything to consider other than myself. The answers seemed clearer because everything was a whim. But when there's another in your life decisions become more, serious. Somehow, I feel like I need to be more sure. I need to really consider before I move, because I am committed, I want our moves to be together.

And now, in planning for the future, what is it that we want? Hell, I'm still not exactly sure. Its just this idea, this nebulous

Freedom.