Wheels on the Bus

Chloe absolutely loves riding the bus. Some mornings in a sleepy stupor, she'll say, "You can drive me to school. Just let me sleep a little longer," but when I agree, she immediately pops out of bed and tells me she wants to ride the bus.

She has two chances to catch the bus. The first is at 7am, and the second is at 7:40.

If I am out of bed by 7am it's a miracle of God. So there's no way I can get myself up, get her up, make lunch, and have her out the door by seven. Not going to happen.

Since she catches the bus at 7:40, she has to cross the street and get on at the corner.

For the most part this has been a good plan. I walked her out the first few days, then walked her to the ditch, and now I stand on the porch as she scurries to the bus.

However, traffic has begun picking up, and the road block the county has near our house has thwarted a lot of traffic, but it will be gone soon.

She looks both ways. She is careful, but she's so little.

Today her bus driver came by the shop to talk to me after he finished his route. He said he was just too nervous to make her continue crossing the street, and offered to come turn around in the driveway if we would keep it clear for him.

What a good bus driver. What a thoughtful and caring person he must be to offer to go the extra step for Chloe.

But it left me feeling horrible. Guilty. Sick.

Instead of thanking him and telling him how nice that is, and how much I appreciate it, why didn't I say, "There's no need. I'll get my lazy ass out of bed ten minutes earlier so I can walk her across every day."

Why didn't I say that? I'm bragging about this guy going the extra mile for my daughter when I quickly wisk her out the door to get back to my blow-drying?

Being a mom is hard.

...and I can just see you with a baby on the way...

"...and I can just see you with a baby on the way; I can just see you when your hair's turnin' gray...."

It's a line I have always joked was written in the wrong order since I already have some natural highlights. It's from "our song," which is "Then" by Brad Paisley. The one we danced to at our wedding. The one that's held us so close together so many times. The one that always makes him grab my hand and hold it tight. Riding in the car. Riding out one of life's storms. Sitting on the couch. The one that's always described us and our love for each other: ...and I thought I loved you then.

The reference, of course, has a little more meaning now. A few weeks ago we were a little surprised to find out we're going to have a little baby coming into our lives. The journey to this particular revelation is something so deeply personal that I don't want to go into great detail about it, but I wanted the chance to announce it officially.

Unfortunately around here it's hard to beat the rumor mill. We told our closest family and friends the news, for fear it would leak and they'd find out second-hand, but despite our best efforts to keep it "in the family" for a few weeks, it spread like wildfire and I'm sure it's not news to anyone very local.

I'm a little irritated, if you can't tell. I wanted to keep a lid on it for a while. Wanted some time for us to get used to it. Some time to adjust. The chance to tell all my friends myself. But that's what happens in a small community I guess.

Otherwise I'm happy. Happy I can once again feel life grow within me. Happy I get to hold and nurture a squishy newborn. Happy to smell that new baby smell. Happy to tickle toes and laugh at the simple things in life. Happy to share our love and life with a precious little child.

Happy that every day that passes is one day closer to the second trimester, and full of hope that this constant sickness is going to go away.

But mostly just happy :)

Ten years...

Sunday marks ten years now. And I think I can speak for most in saying sometimes it seems like just yesterday. Sitting there, watching the panic-stricken faces of the news casters. Hearing them sound so human for the first time, and wondering, "What's next?"

I've thought a lot about 9/11 lately, and I heard something on the radio today that really hit home for me. The radio personality said that of all the horrific things happening that day, the worst may have been the unknown.

What had happened? Who was attacking us? Would every plane in the US fall from the sky? Would every well-known building or landmark be destroyed? Was this war? Could it happen again?

We panicked, not knowing what would come. Afraid we'd be without food and fuel, electricity maybe, water. Basic needs for everyday life. Frightened for our country, for our lives. For our future.
And on top of that, we never saw it coming. We sat idly in our homes, eating breakfast, shuffling kids off to school, taking a shower, driving to work, and little did we know that moments later our lives would change forever. Our country would change forever. History was in the making.

Tragedy is always just that: tragic. It strikes without rhyme or reason to most of us. It leaves us wounded and scarred, but I think it hurts the very worst when we never saw it coming, and we don't know when it will end.

Never forget.

 





1. Did you make any fun purchases this week?

It's probably not what you'd consider a typical "fun" purchase. I didn't buy new shoes or a cute purse. Didn't get any new electronic gadgets. I bought my daughter a dish-rag doll at Casey's (gas station/convenience store if you're unfamiliar).

I took her to meet her dad and she saw the hand-sewn doll hanging in the window. She fell in love with it. I had just given her the weekly allowance, which would pay for half. Burned out and tired of always being the one to fork over the cash (we had just spent my entire paycheck on school supplies and clothes the week before), I told her she could either save her allowance until next week and buy the doll herself, or see if her dad would kick in the other FIVE dollars for the doll.

When he arrived she ran out to his Jeep Liberty and begged him to come see it. He told her no, he just didn't have the money to pay for half the doll (then proceeded to drive her three hours away to visit his new girlfriend whom she's never met, but that's a story for another day). She didn't cry. But her face. She was heart-broken.

So what did I do? Instead of putting in five and paying for half the doll I went in after they left and bought her the stinking doll. It's not worth ten dollars. It's a dish rag with a stocking sewn on, but she loved it.

But when she came home and found the little rag doll lying on her pillow, her face was priceless. And because it was such an emotional journey for her, she's super attached to that silly little rag. And those moments are what being a mom is all about :)
2. If you could go to any musical concert, what would it be?

LIKE you don't know! Ok, ok if you're not my Facebook friend you might not.

My favorite musician of all-time is Jamey Johnson. Of all genres, all years, all bands, he is my one and only. I love everything about him. His voice. His songs. His troubled eyes. His demeanor. *swoon* And I have YET to see him live :( One day I will. One day. But until then, I just listen to his music and pretend he is here with me in spirit. We mow together. We go for walks together. We commiserate when I have a bad day. We go backroading (although the Mister often crowds him out). And although he's big and hairy now, beneath that ZZ Top beard is a burly, sexy man with piercing blue eyes that have a real story to tell.
He seriously sings my soul. If you want to listen to a smattering of his music, my short list includes "Place Out on the Ocean," "That's How I Don't Love You," "The Last Cowboy," "Give It Away," (a song he wrote for George Strait) and "In Color." And that's my super short list. I love all his music. All. But my favorite song ever ever ever is "High Cost of Living."

3. What is your least fav/ most fav house chore?
My least favorite is dishes. MAN I hate dishes! HATE HATE HATE! I miss my dishwasher SO much! Sometimes I refuse to cook JUST because I don't wanna do dishes.

But I LOVE to mow. It's that one thing I can do where NO ONE will bother me. The sun shines on my shoulders, I plug in my MP3, pour myself a refreshing beverage, and spend some time with myself (and Jamey!). It's truly the best.

4. Would you prefer new appliances or clothes?
If you would buy me a dishwasher (and figure out a way to install it in our kitchen..therein lies the problem), I would wear the same t-shirts and jeans for two whole years.
If we're just talking about a washer and a fridge, I'd rather have all new clothes.
5. Miracle Whip or Mayo?
EW and double EW. I have a texture issue and I do NOT eat anything creamy. This includes all salad dressing (clear-ish only) and condiments. No yogurt. No sour cream. No French onion dip. No, no, no. Chocolate pudding is the only real exception to that rule, and I could live without it. Bleh!

Warped

Ok let's be honest. It's not like any hetero-sexual woman in her right mind actually likes Megan Fox. Honestly. She steals oogling looks from our men. She's the topic of endless locker-room chatter, and she is gorgeous and thin. And rich. So we all agree we hate her anyway, right? Ok.

That being said, this whole tattoo thing has me really perturbed.
She's removing her Marilyn tattoo because of bi-polar and mental disorders, right? Yeah that's a pc no-no. It's bigotry and it makes you say "OMG." But there are two things that bug me MORE about this whole situation.
1. She got a tattoo of someone on her body, someone she must have hailed as a hero or icon of some sort. And she "didn't know" that Marilyn suffered from this? Holy Hell I know that, and I am not NEARLY interested in her enough to have a picture of her in my home, let alone ON MY BODY. I mean, read ANY book that references her in any way and it doesn't take a PhD to figure that one out. So stupidity move #1: having an icon/hero you know NOTHING about (and permanently affixing her likeness to your skin).

2. She's having the likness removed because she doesn't need Marilyn's "negativity" (from being bi-polar) in her life. But she was fine with Marilyn's boozing, drug-addicted, slutting around, home-wrecking lifestyle (no disrespect, Miss M)? Those things were all fine. But the bi-polar pushed her over the edge? The ONE negative element in her life she had NO control over? Says a little something about Miss Fox, dontcha think?

That's my two cents. Call me bitter and jealous, but I think some people are just straight warped, and it's not Miss Marilyn I'm talking about on this one.

Let's get this thing started; it's my kinda party: Wedding Tale 8

We headed home while our family and friends finished clearing out the hall. We spent some, ah, quality time together, changed into comfy clothes, and headed to my mother-in-law's house. Mister's uncle was cooking burgers. The whole Wilson clan was there, and all our closest and most laid-back friends were on their way.

It began as a family bbq. Kinda quiet. A little chatter. Everyone eating and taking a breather after a long day.

And then the sun went down.
The drinks were poured.
And the rest is history.

This was in his pre-party days, so catching him with A beer was a big deal!

My two bestest friends <3

My boys.

Husband and wife <3

Love my brother in law =]

Coolest dad ever, partying with his daughter ;)

There was singing. And pickin' and grinnin' too.

My girl B. Lafs <3

Wade's gals

One. Great. Night.






...and they lived happily ever after.

Bathroom Jealousy

Disclaimer: This post contains bathroom talk. Read at your own discretion.





I never thought of "taking a wiz" as much of a luxury. I'm so speedy in the bathroom I can beat about any guy in a race. It's something you do because you have to, and you move on with your life when you're done. I never really thought of it as relaxing. I had not thought about it at all, really, until I started helping out at the family tire shop.

Our tire shop isn't anything fancy. There's no tiled waiting room, no plants sitting around, no tv. It's a dirty old workshop with a make-shift office complete with desk, bare wood walls, and that slick gray concrete that's in your unfinished basement.

It shares a building with the town bar, and between the two is a small hallway with a men's room and a ladies' room. It's technically part of the bar, so they take care of it. Er, ah, they claim it.

The trash is always full. Soap is usually empty, toilet stains, flies, floor never mopped. You name it, it's there. Granted I could easily go over and clean it spic and span, but inevitably the bar crowd would dirty it again each weekend and I would then be in an endless cycle of cleaning for nothing.

Having a slight severe problem with public toilets as it is, I fight this ugly toilet demon every day.

First I will myself not to even go. I won't go. I'll hold it. I am a potty camel of sorts.

But then it hits me. Too much tea. Way too much tea, and I have to go. And while I can wait a LONG time, once I do have to go, I gotta go now.

I squiggle and squirm like a potty-training two-year old, too stubborn to go to the toilet. By the time I actually go, I'm running at lightning speeds to get there.

I immediately take the position in front of the toilet: Drop trou, feet shoulder-width apart. One step back, squat and hover.

I told you, I go fast. But it feels like an eternity as my legs burn in torture holding my entire being as far from that crab germ-infested seat as humanly possible. I hover there, longing to put my buns on the seat. To just sit and pee for thirty seconds without having to work so hard at evading the filth.

Today as I hovered there, I thought of all the stay-at-home mommies and their toy-filled, bleach-scented bathrooms with nothing to worry about but baby germs and Daddy leaving the seat up. And I was jealous of their relaxing kids screaming, following them in, beating the door down while they sit on the toilet. So jealous.

Now you're my whole life: Wedding Tale 7

Pictures were pretty quick compared to your typical wedding. Below-average temps and gusty wind put a damper on our outdoor pics, so we just took a few [side note: in all my "the wedding doesn't matter, the marriage does" planning, my ONE mistake was not forking over money for a professional photographer].

The girl doing our pictures wanted us to wait a few minutes before we came to the hall so she could be ready. We decided to go get the Mister's hat, which took much longer than we anticipated. We finally arrived, though, and were introduced as Mister and Misses Mister :)

The reception was pretty informal, but we did all the traditional things.

We danced to our song.

We cut the cake.

Then we ever-so-gently fed each other that first bite of cake.

I wiped the frosting out of my nose. We ate a bite. I blew frosting out of my nose. We mingled. I picked frosting out of my nose. Then we left. I continued extracting frosting from my nose. We didn't go far, no sir-ee. Just went for a little drive to show off our escape vehicle,

then went home to change clothes. We had been apart and stressed all day long, so we were ready to really celebrate with our closest friends. My MIL was throwing us a party, and I couldn't wait to let my hair down (seriously, the bobby pins!) and enjoy our first night as husband and wife.

"...now you're my whole life,

now you're my whole world.

I just can't believe

the way I feel about you, girl.

Like a river meets the sea,

stronger than it's ever been;

we've come so far since that day,

and I thought I loved you then..."

"There Goes My Life"

"There goes my life;

There goes my future,

My everything;

I love you, baby,

Goodbye..."

Today I entrust my baby girl to this big old world. I'm fighting tears and a knot in my throat as I even type it. Not so much because I am sad to see her go, but moreso because I know what a big cruel world it can be. I know she's no longer sheltered under our roof with only our love and words of encouragement. Starting today she learns what it's like to be disappointed. To get into trouble. To be left-out. To be teased. To be heart-broken.

I have to hold on to the good things, though. I have to remember she'll learn to make friends. To be kind to others. To read and learn and grow. Experience puppy love. To make her own choices. To become independent.

Today I let my baby girl, who I've nurtured and taken care of for more than five years now, go out into the world all by herself, pink backpack in tow, and I trust that the world will be good to her more often than not. And even if it's not, I'm still going to be there when she gets home to love her, encourage her, and help her through it all....and to kick some butt if I need to :)

"...there goes my life..."

Our real-life COPS episode

It was nothing more than a typical Saturday night. Chloe had gone home with Nana for the night, so the Mister and I went out to get a small bite to eat and were out driving around listening to music and unwinding from the busy week.

We pulled up to the house and into the driveway, and immediately noticed an unfamiliar car sitting at the end of the drive. Not yet alarmed, we figured it was one of our friends, or a friend of my BIL. Or maybe a cow was out and a passer-by had stopped to let us know.

As we pulled in, though, we immediately knew it was a stranger. Out-of-state plates. Unfamiliar car, and the man within was no one we knew. He was slumped over in his seat, but clearly breathing.

Bush's Sixteen Stone album blared from the speakers. The car was running, lights were off, and this man was out cold.

"HEY! HEY MAN!" Mister yelled across me at him. He never flinched.

"HEY!" I hollered, thinking being two feet closer might help? Nothing. His shoulders heaved up and down and we decided he was likely drunk and passed out. Suddenly he moved. Itched his nose. I gasped, and quickly rolled up my window.

We called one of the deputies who lives nearby in hopes he could come check things out. The longer we sat there debating about what to do, the more vivid my imagination became. What if he was tweaked out on drugs and woke up crazed and confused? What if he was intoxicated and thought he was at home, and tried to come inside the house or something? What if he was a serial killer baiting us so he could chop us up into tiny pieces? Or maybe he was a car-bomber! Nevermind there's not another house for a mile.

I was relieved when I saw Mr. Officer finally pull up in his truck. He went to the stranger and tried to wake him to no avail. He shook him gently at first, then so violently his head flopped around like a rag doll's. Finally the man awakened.

He didn't get off on a very good foot with Mr. Officer.

He didn't have ID.

He gave a fake name.

He said he was headed to the lake, and when asked if he knew where he was, he got smart.

"Yeah, I know where I am!" he snapped.

"Where are you, then?" The officer questioned.

"I'm RIGHT here," he said smugly.

Backup arrived quickly. While they were running his plates he started fumbling around in the car for something. Mr. Officer drew his gun and as the perpetrator raised his hand, he revealed a lighter, which he used to light his cigarette.

In running his plates they found he had a warrant in Kansas. They quickly pulled him from the car, told him to put out his cig, and he puffed on it as many times as he could before finally flicking it away. He was cuffed and taken in. As far as we know he was put on a 24 hour hold.

Mr. Officer stayed until the tow truck arrived, and finally our little episode was over.

Never a dull moment, even out here in the quiet country.

I Do: Wedding Tale 6

The walk down the aisle seemed so long. I was trying to keep looking forward, knowing someone somewhere was trying to get a good picture. I had my eyes on my Mister, but my mind was far from the wedding. Was my shoe catching my dress? Was my train flowing properly? Was I walking with too much swag? Yeah. My booty has a mind of its own when I walk, anyway. Walking slowly...was that making it worse? Yeah. It was.

Finally we got to the altar and my nervous groom escorted me up the steps and onto the stage. I'd had these grand illusions of giving Wade a big hug. Saying, "thank you" quietly as we departed. But nerves had caught me off guard and I was now worrying about making sure I gave my groom more attention at the meeting than my "dad," and I squeezed his arm, took my Mister's hand, and went up the steps.

Unbeknownst to me, my daughter had been the star of the show. She had run out of petals, and was unhappy with the placement of some of them, and started back down the aisle to "fix dem" before I came in. Finally she got headed in the right direction and made it up just before we came out.

Our song was "Me and You" by Kenny Chesney. It was the longest two minutes of my life. It's not a long song, but man it seemed to drag on. At the time I didn't know it, but I was shifting my weight so much in nervousness that my uh..cheeks were wiggling the whole time.

The vows were perfect.

Wade and Brenna sang "You Got What I Need" more beautifully than Joshua Radin sings it.

The certificate was signed.

And it was time for the ring ceremony.

As my groom placed the ring on my finger, it slipped. He dropped it. There was a chuckle in the crowd. He looked at me (AS IF I was going to pick it up for him!) then finally bent down to get it. He placed it on my finger, and as the preacher read the words for me to repeat he was standing there smiling, saying through clenched teeth, "Drop it. Drop it! Please drop it. Come on. Do it."

Wanting to make us  both feel better, I dropped his ring to the floor, knelt with a giggle and continued the ceremony. Mister gave Chloe her ring and said a little vow to her, and I'm pretty sure there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

The kiss was perfect.

And we were married :)

Get Ready.....:Wedding Tale 5

After we got done at the beauty shop we headed for the church. I had brought everything along in the event that our hair appointments took a long time, but we were in and out in a jiffy.

It must have been 11:30 when we got to the church. If not a little earlier. It was just Chloe, Jamie and me. We toted our dresses and other necessities inside. We made some final adjustments to the church decorations and went over our verbal check-lists of "did you remember to," and "who is taking care of," and "what if we," before finally settling in the "bridal room" (it is actually the church nursery.

It seemed like an eternity waiting for my mom and other family/friends to show up, but we chatted away the time, did our make-up, and laughed like we always do. We'd had such a fun weekend together, as always, and it was finally time for the big event.

There was plenty to do. Lots of pictures to take and memories to make.

My MOH and best friend. We make anything fun!

*whispers* I was starting to get a little excited...

A mom and daughter moment if there ever was one <3

3 Generations

Chloe: Nana, take my socks off!
Nana: Ok baby.
Me: Mom. Seriously? She can take her own socks off.....

Zipping up and ready to go!

<3

Zipping up my other girl.



Tiny toes



All ready...now all that's left to do is wait.

We ginally got everyone ready and slowly but surely they all trickled out of the room, leaving just me. It was about that time Wade came knocking on the door, and if you haven't already read it, now is the time to read A Walk to Remember.

Dog Whisperer?

We decided to take a family four-wheeler ride last night at sunset and appreciate the cooler weather, greening grass, and animals moving about the field. Our new English Bulldog puppy, Rocky, was outside with the "big dogs" when we decided to take off.


We don't normally leave Rocky unattended, as he is still learning boundaries and is becoming ever-more curious with each passing day. As we drove off, he sat down on the top step and watched as the other two dogs followed us on our journey.

A little worried, I asked Mister what he thought. Would Rocky try to follow us and get into danger, or would he stay put and wait for our return? He assured me Rocky would be ok, but our conversation worried little Chloe.

From between us she started confessing her concerns about Rocky.

"He'll be fine," we reassured her.

She leaned over the side and hollerd back toward Jessie the Cowdog who was right on our tail.

"JESSIE! JESSIE! You go back and baby-sit Rocky, ok? YOU go be in charge of him!" she hollered over the roaring motor and the crunching gravel.

"CHLOE!" I spoke loudly over the noise "Jessie doesn't understand English like that," I explianed.

She shook her head, leaned over toward Jessie again and said, "Woof! Woofwoofwoof! Woof woof!"

Nothing more was said.

But for the record, Jessie didn't go home ;)

5QF: I hate love my brother, and other things

1. Do you have siblings and are you close with them?

I have a baby brother. And by baby I mean he's 26.

When we were growing up we didn't exactly get along. Maybe once in a while when we were forced to join forces at my grandma's house to pass the time, or with a baby-sitter we hated, but mostly we fought. And by fought I mean he said something mean to me and I said something mean back and we kept doing that until he'd had enough and chased me screaming through the house to my bedroom where I'd hold the door shut with all my 70lb might and he'd beat on it with a hockey stick until he either a) busted the door, b) got it open, or c) my mom intervened. In the event of scenario b, he would then beat on me until my mom intervened.

Then we grew up and I moved out and we were like hmmm...I kinda like you now.

And then I moved back home for a couple years and we were at it again...in a more mature way this time. Like I'd say "potato wedgie" over and over again because it grossed him out that food was called wedgie, and he'd finally yell at me, go in his room, and slam his door leaving me to be chided by my mother.

Then I got married and left home for good and we were like oh yeah, remember how I kinda liked you once? Yeah.

And now we're close. Close as in I don't pry into his life and he doesn't pry into mine, but we talk when we want to and send each other hilarious texts at family get-togethers. Close like we want each other to be happy and support each other in whatever it is that makes us that way. Close like we don't say I told you so, or I wouldn't if I were you. Close like we have to bite our tongues to keep from laughing sometimes because we know what the other one is thinking. Close like I can laugh about it now when I see the broken jamb at my mom's house. :)




My brother and me on my wedding day



2. Would you rather be slightly UNDER weight or slightly OVER weight?
UNDER.

Duh.

Next question!



3. What's your favorite State Fair food to splurge on?
I have to have a corndog.

And a funnel cake.

And it's not splurging if you just pick one, so I have to have both :)

4. What are your thoughts on your kid(s) going to school in a few weeks?
Now that I'm helping out with the family biz, I'm happy I won't have a sitter fee anymore. I'm excited that Chloe will get to see her friends again, have a schedule and structure again, and so proud that my baby girl is starting kindergarten.

Then I'm like WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BABY is going to KINDERGARTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sniff
sniff
sniff.
*wipes tears*


5. Pool or Ocean?
I love the ocean love love love, but even if I lived at the ocean I think I'd want a pool. You can't float in the ocean and that's what I love to do. Just float around on my raft. So I pick pool. Must include pool boy ;)

Next?

I was bombarded with a question just the other day that left me speechless. It made me quesion my life-direction and think on a deeper level than I've allowed myself to do in a long time. It rattled me to my core. Did I mention it came from my five year-old?

She sat in the kitchen while I was washing dishes and innocently asked, "So, whaddaya wanna be next, Mom?"

I turned my head toward her, my brow furrowed, and asked her what she meant.

"Well, you used to be a teacher, den you were a waitress, now you're a mama. Whaddaya wanna do on your next job?" she asked with curiosity in her eyes.

"I dunno," I said to her, and went back to my dishes. I felt a knot in my throat and the sting of impending tears. I didn't know what to think. I've been so busy living so happily in the moment, I haven't thought one bit about where to go from here.

I'm happy being at home, but with Chloe starting school full-time in the fall, I don't know where that leaves me. I could teach, but the thought of being back in the education environment with all its red tape and state-based rules makes me squirm. I love helping kids learn, but I don't want to be back in public school for the life of me.

I know what you're going to say. "Have a baby!" I'm not ruling it out entirely, but with every passing day my acceptable child-bearing years (for ME in MY opinion in MY life) are waning.

I have school debt from my first degree, so a second one isn't looking so attainable.

I'd like to dabble in psychology and sociology.

I'd like to work with pregnant women or new moms...but I don't have the nurse gift. You know, the one where blood and vaginas don't make you queasy. =/ Sorry mom.

So what now?

I'm still writing. And I still love it. Maybe when Chloe is in school all day I will devote more time to that and develop it more? I don't know.

That question left my head spinning, and it's yet to stop. It made me realize my own mortality. It made me realize I no longer have the luxury of being young and having my WHOLE blank-slate of a life ahead of me. I no longer have the luxury of "maybe in a few years..." 

Now that I have the life-experience, the trial-and-error, and a better idea of who I am, I don't know where to go or how to get there. So. What's next? Your guess is as good as mine.