I urge you to try to come out of reading this with Van Morrison stuck in your head instead of the Lovin' Spoonful.

Tonight, some magic happened. 

Little Girl and I spent the morning here hanging out, and then in the afternoon went to the grocery store and ikea. I got a little coffee table (one of those sets of two small ones they have, shaped like leaves), and I had had a dream this morning where my apartment had a lot more pink in it and I liked that, so I got this new picture they have of a typewriter with flowers on a pink background. Judge me for the corporate art all you want, I used to have a typewriter (it got left behind in either Texas or Portland by my ex because he claimed it was too heavy to drive with), and I miss it, and I love flowers and it's pink. So there. I'm just gonna put it in my room.

So now the place is really starting to come together, and we had a late dinner and then she really needed a bath, so after some cajoling and cleaning up no less than one hundred thousand legos, I got her in the tub. 

It's a rainy night after a rainy day, and we had a good time together today. This morning I was trying to get her pumped about something, probably just turning off the tv and leaving the house, so I started doing a random crazy dance and singing some kind of weird song I was making up on the spot about being excited to get dressed or some junk, and then she jumped up and started doing the same moves. Then she grabbed my hand and said, "Let's have fun!" so we started doing more weird dance moves, and I was making up another silly song to go with it, and we were both laughing, and we did have fun. We're big makers-up-of-silly-songs-and-dances around here.

And I have to say, I love this apartment so much. It had such a peaceful vibe even when it was empty and I just stopped by to look at it because I had a hunch I had ruled it out too quickly. But by now I've protected it spiritually and energetically (Not even my own friends can get in while they're journeying, even with positive intentions and love in their heart. Not without my permission. That's how protected it is). Every time I walk inside and close the door behind me, I feel really peaceful and happy and safe. Like a warm glow. It's really nice. It's been a very long time since I felt that way in a place where I live. I hate doing the math on years gone by, but I really think it's been like maybe 12 years or so since I've had a place with such good energy. Yes, I'm telling you, it's that good! 

I don't really mind cleaning it either, I do a lot better about keeping it tidy, organizing my things, sweeping the steps and such. I cannot overemphasize how long it typically takes me to fully unpack after a move. I will typically have at least a few boxes left in my closet that I just can't be bothered to unpack for years and years. But now I'm almost all the way done! I just have a few pieces left in one suitcase, just like vitamins and stuff that I brought with me, a few little things like that. Then I'm done! Well, I mean, soon the shipment of the all the rest of the stuff from Texas will be picked up. That will kind of suck, to be honest, because we packed waaaay too much stuff. I'm going to get rid of a lot of it, except for some books and of course all the photos. And my cookware (woohoo!) and things like that. And my art for the walls, and the rugs, it's still a little bare in here for my liking. 

Okay, so I started off like I was going to talk about magic happening and now I'm complaining about packing all wrong for this move. Get back on track, girl.

Okay, okay, here I am, I'm back.

All right, sooooo...

Bath time is underway, and I decide to put on a little Van Morrison because I was just in the mood for some, ya know? A rainy summer night, a vintage black bathtub, warm happy family vibes between my offspring and myself, it's a Van Morrison moment. 

So I just played some on my phone, setting it in the empty soap dish next to my sink, and then continued on with the task at hand. 

And then the craziest thing happened.

Everything felt so... right. 

My dream of having a cozy, kind of hippie house, with really good vibes and happiness, and the warm, soft light of candles and lamps glowing out into a rainy night... Van Morrison in the background, dishes about to be washed in the sink... A happy day behind us and plans for another pretty decent one tomorrow... Feeling like, hey, life is actually kind of nice all of a sudden... 

That all happened. 

It's all happening.

We made that vibe happen. My child and me. We got the magic inside us and we take it wherever we go. The only way it goes away is if it hides because somebody else tries to mess with it. It doesn't have to hide now. And now that I know it's here, I won't let anybody chase it off again. Never again. 

I've got job interviews this week, and I have a good feeling about them. Supposedly, just like my great-grandmother told me when I channeled her last year, the government here is now working on making it easier for first-time home buyers to be able to purchase a home. I want to be one of those people, so I'm going to build towards that. My own house with my own garden.

I love these older homes I see around sometimes. They give me such wild flashbacks to the 80s and 90s. It's so hard to pinpoint, but it just washes over me every once in a while. A patio enclosed in this certain plastic that they sometimes use for greenhouses, it's got ridges in it like corrugated sheet metal and it's translucent... Or a yard around a one story house with lots of trees in the garden. Inside lights glowing out into a gloomy evening. It rushes over me like a wave.

It reminds me of this place that doesn't exist here anymore, it was called "Eden," and, sadly, it burned down years ago. We went there once as kids, it was me and my brother and my mom and her sister and a few cousins. I must have fallen asleep in the car or something because I just remember them saying the word, "Tívolí," and we were suddenly there. I feel like it was a dreamy kind of place. I can't remember how old I was but I think I was under age ten. We rode on the rides and then there was a store that had a lot of plants and like, little trinkets and things... Like, I remember wandering through there and I almost feel like there were statues of gnomes, like for a garden or something. It felt huge to me, but maybe I was just little. 

I get flashbacks to being there sometimes when I'm walking or driving around here, especially now that there's actually a little darkness at night and it seems like the weather is starting to cool off. I like those flashbacks, I don't mind them at all. They feel good. They're always followed by one of a particular Christmas when we came here and I was also under age ten, and my mom and her sister took my brother and I and her kids to a bunch of Christmas dances (Jólaball) around Keflavík, their home town. They both know everyone everywhere they go there, and at every place they'd ask around like where there were more dances going on. We hit a whole bunch of them that night, it was really fun. We were trying to find one that was really poppin' and we finally did. They used to have dances like that for kids that seemed to just be free and open to the public. You just kind of heard about them or drove around and found them and went in and like danced and ate candy and got all hopped up on sugar and (if you were me) slightly afraid of the guys dressed up as our version of Santa Claus, until eventually you were bundled into the car to go home and pass out in a low-level pre-diabetic coma. It was a blast. I friggin' love a good Jólaball to this day. They're a damn good time.

I feel like this whole post is going to have the Lovin' Spoonful singing, "cuz the magic's in the music and the music's in me," in my head for the rest of the night, and I have an interview in the morning so I really need to fall asleep earlier tonight. 

Believe in your fucking dreams 'n' some junk. Then give them over to The One That Is and let watch what happens. It's really hard to trust at first, but I'm telling you... It's worth a try.

It's also worth a try to neutralize The Lovin' Spoonful with a well-chosen Van song. A lot of his are earworms, too, shoot. Hold on... 

Ooh! This one! So good.

Okay good night.


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