Nearly every day Mark and I exclaim to each other how random our lives are. Those of you who know even a little about us probably recognize the truth in this statement. One day we’re renovating a house in Vermont, the next we’re farming veggies in Virginia. But then before you know it, Melissa’s back to doing some renovating in Vermont while Mark is exploring a hippie commune in Central VA. A month ago we were couchsurfing with a crazy cat lady in New Jersey and attending an Indian wedding, and today we were less than 30 feet from one of the coolest Jersey cats -The Boss – as he played a free concert in Cville.

(Coincidentally, we also had a close encounter with the last well known celebrity who took that same stage – His Holiness The Dalai Lama – about two weeks ago. A smile and wave from HHDL sent a wave of emotion and gratitude throughout my whole being in a way that even Thunder Road can’t touch. Sorry Bruce.)

These days our random lives get even stranger. Well, maybe it’s not stranger than a hippie commune; I’ll let you be the judge.

Over the past week or so we’ve found ourselves in these various situations:

• Participating in an online property auction, preparing ourselves to be the new owners of a condo with amazing views. Five minutes later: the auction over and us condo-less. We took turns convincing each other it wasn’t really what we wanted anyway. After all, unobstructed mountain views are overrated.
• Driving through a hard hat construction zone for new commercial space on the outskirts of town. The development happens to be where the new Trader Joe’s is going in (woohoo!) and also happens to be where my baby got a job. The two may, or may not, be related. All I know is I’d like to see Mark in construction boots and a hard hat.
• Loading ~500 books from a beautiful estate just west of Cville into Jenny-the-Truck for later sorting and selling. Similarly: helping a young woman certified hoarder move out of her apartment  Yep, we’ve got a new moving business going, using my trusty truck as our pack mule.
• Chasing dragons*.
• Missing Vermont = buying stock in Green Mountain Coffee Roasters.
• Hiking to an apple orchard at the top of Carter Mountain – a local tourist attraction this time of year – and hitchiking our way back down.
• Enjoying Ethiopian cuisine (a first for MM).
• Attending classes at a fancy schmancy expensive gym. When we work out there we regularly look at each other and say “Who are we?”
• (Melissa) Applying for a job at a metaphysical book store. “I meditate regularly” and “I have some knowledge of crystals” are phrases that had never made it into a cover letter until now.
• (Melissa) Editing a book. Not one that I wrote, mind you. That’s coming – one day.
• (Mark) Living to see the day when Melissa was willing to step into an AT&T store and seriously consider buying a smart phone.

All this is, in part, a way to bring you up to speed on our lives. After all, it’s not all that long ago that we broke up with the idea of running an acre farm at the Local Food Hub, and – in truth – questioned whether we too were breaking up. A lot has happened since then. We’ve had many months of processing, conversations into the wee hours, alone time with much personal growth, tears of joy and of sadness, speaking from the heart, and truth seeking. We lost each other and found each other again, feeling renewed and rejoicing for the love that was still underneath it all. We’re here, in Charlottesville, starting anew with ourselves and each other. We have all kinds of questions about what’s next and very few answers. I’m learning to love the questions.

This post is also a way of re-inventing this blog (yet again) to focus on the relationship side of the equation since we’re no longer in Vermont renovating our 1920’s “shack”. Though, the renovating topic may have its fair shot in the near future – especially if I move forward with my bright idea to get crafty with some thrift store furniture, or if we accidentally buy a fixer-upper in a property auction. You never know with us.

Stay tuned.

(*The dragons weren’t real.)