El Dia de los Muertos or Dead on my Feet

Dead on my feet…that sounds so weird. Let’s just say my plans to post daily got derailed by our big transitional move weekend which has overnight become an 18 day transition thanks to a graveyard shift SNAFU. I am putting on my game face now…

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We are moving Logan into Supported Living, so yesterday we busted ass signing paperwork, renting a van, buying furniture, moving furniture, taking apart and putting back together furniture, and today we get to do more of the same. His new digs are starting to look great, and in spite of being only a skeleton crew and working our fingers to the bone we are feeling celebratory.

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El Dia de los Muertos always feels like a celebration to me. There is sadness for who and what we have lost but I choose to remember the joy and the happy times and let the bad times go. I never have been one to wallow. I’m all in, and when it’s over, I’m done. Over and out. And when I’m out, I like a good celebration. Win, win.

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Year before last I participated in an exhibition of ofrendas for El Dia de los Muertos and my altar was dedicated to my lost youth.

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Do I really miss my youth? Heck no! I spent my youth wishing and working for everything I’m enjoying now. My family, my home, my art. I do look back fondly on my flat abs, but you can’t have everything. (All at the same time.)

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So, I may be dead on my feet, BUT I’m on my feet. Win.