Resuscitations

The title of this post has a few different meanings.  One is obviously about the blog itself, which has gone neglected ever since I entered the tunnel of activity through which we have emerged with a completely different life.  Well, sort of.  (Lost job, sold house, moved away… not knowing what’s going on, etc) Another meaning of ‘resuscitation’ is that of my faith.  Not that it was dead or anything, at least by my poor standards, but it’s being forced to be relied on and poked awake by the necessity of the hour.  It’s either sink or swim in this hour of faith.  So swim it is!

The last meaning may also be a resuscitation of my connection with my home town.  I’m living in Pueblo again.  God only knows for how long.  We are crashing with family until other doors open.  It’s not uncomplicated with our 3 young kids in the mix, but so far by God’s grace it’s working.   SO!  I’m rediscovering the natural beauty here, trying to connect to life here again as it ebbs and flows while I’m here.  I’m finding some cool stuff… and some hard things.

The culture of Boulder, Colorado and Pueblo, Colorado are worlds apart.   In Boulder I did not feel like a freak at all.  Eccentricity is the norm.  I don’t even consider myself eccentric at all.  But that is a relative thing.  Here in Pueblo, I’m an outsider again in some ways.  I never thought too much about being a vegetarian for example.  Here in Pueblo, it’s not easy.   I was at the local grocery store and I asked where their falafel mix was.  The clerk said  “The wha..?  The what?!”    “You know, falafel?  Falafel mix?”   A look of realization came over him and he said “Oh!  I am very sure we don’t have anything like *that*!”     Oh well, you adjust.  What would we do in another country?   Boulder spoiled me big time.  Time to.. uh, decompress.  There is that awful word again.