Thursday, August 26, 2010

On Moving and Being Nice


                                                          [present house, fireplace guys]

We move tomorrow afternoon, and this morning I took one last run through our little neighborhood.  I saw a family of wild turkeys (?), a mama and two baby turkeys, on the side of the road as if waiting for a bus.  We've loved our neighborhood, and not for the wildlife, since that's rare, but because it's just beautiful here.  And on my run I was thinking about all that's happened here in the last year.  A lot, that's what.  So much that it doesn't feel like there's time to go into detail before I go to work, but work is part of it.  Sam and I weathered the bad job situation here. 

[note from sam on our front door chalkboard in the very depths of the bad job.]


I got the new job, the good job, which is still good.  I've dropped nearly forty pounds in the last while, which is really a just a physical sign of bigger changes inside my head, in how I think about myself and interact with other people and attempt to see the world as a nice place.  I won't say more about that right now, but it's been huge.  And I haven't noticed that more than I have lately, in the last few days/weeks, when the closing on our new house has been pushed back and back and back, and Sam and I have tried to pull all of our stuff together and box it up.  This move feels so different from the last.  I have more energy, more emotional AND physical energy.  And maybe Sam would disagree, but it feels to me like I've been less witchy and whiny.  Don't get me wrong, I've had my share of witchy/whiny moments, but I'm finally healthier, and it's so much easier to stay rational when I'm healthier.

Does anyone else have fantasies when they're packing about the days when everything people owned fit into one suitcase or a little bandana tied to a stick and they could just pack the suitcase, palm their hat to their head, kiss whomever goodbye and be on their way?  I obsess over that when I'm packing, imagine becoming a minimalist, wonder and wonder why I have so many dang pairs of shoes.  Anyway, the only trouble with moving now is that we probably can't move into our house yet.  Our stuff can, which is such a relief, but we'll head to a hotel and chill for a week (we hope only a week ...) until closing.  This panicked me at first.  But this morning, running our neighborhood for the last time, I decided the hotel wil be great: I'll have Sam and my cats (try not to think about three cats in a hotel room), and we'll be done packing and we won't have to UNpack just yet, and we can just chill.  Maybe we'll watch movies.  Maybe we'll have a dip in the pool. 
[present house, tooled leather walls, bird garland from paris]


[one more shot of the fireplace dude.  goodbye fireplace dude.]

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Bow Tie

Sam and I spent much of Saturday night and Sunday in the hospital for what turned out to be a pinched nerve in Sam's neck.  There was some concern, since his left arm was numb (heart stuff, you know), but it turned out to be just fine.  Or relatively fine.  He's still in quite a bit of pain, the poor dear.

Anyway, to help with the pinched nerve, the doctor gave Sam a neck brace--the sort you see people wear in movies when they're pretending to be injured.  And then he insisted I draw a bowtie on it.  He knelt in front of me, wearing the brace, lifting his chin while I sketched it out with a sharpie.  He said, "This.  Now this is true love."

Monday, August 2, 2010

Snippet

A snippet of conversation from our anniversary dinner out at Oleana: (Which, if you ever find yourself in Cambridge, MA in need of a meal, holy mother of deliciousness; that place is good.  Maybe my favorite meal in Mass, yet.  They were not, however, exceptionally speedy.)

Deja: Is this not taking just a wee bit long?

Sam: Yep. My theory is this: they're killing the duck by sleep deprivation.

Somehow, that killed me.  Oh, that still kills me.  Sleep deprivation.  Let us be together for a million more years, and let me always remember that: sleep deprivation. 

We have fun, Sam and I.  It's been a rocky two years in some categories of our lives, but we have a real good time.  And since we had already exchanged gifts the Saturday before (we couldn't wait!), Sam set up a sort of card scavenger hunt for Tuesday morning.  He handed me a card, which was sweet and silly and funny, and then it pointed me to a particular spot on the bookshelf where there was another, which pointed me to another spot on the bookshelf, and another, and another.  And by the time I got to the last card, I was in tears, full-blown tears, and also in love.  Gosh, I love that guy.