I have not cried this many times in one week since my hormones plummeted after Jack was born. Right now, the kids are at Camp Grandparents, T is 38 today, and we have done an incredible amount of packing and tossing, and you literally cannot tell.
Moving is emotional, even when it's thrilling.
I have a glorious fire going in the fireplace, Nutmeg is all flat as a pancake and out like a light on the chair across the way. Percy is next to me, and the hot logs are pop, pop, popping.
I awoke early this morning, had a Bourbon cocktail an hour ago and am now enjoying a beautiful glass of Rioja. When the kids are in Rome...
Or is it, When in Rome...and When the kids are away...
But really, aren't they largely the same?
Part of me adores packing. I appreciate paring back to the essentials, streamlining life and house. Perhaps that's why I once streamlined myself.
Thank goodness that was so many moons ago.
I like the neatness of filling a box. It's like fitting all my boys' wooden blocks back in the provided holder. They will fit, but exactly. No haphazard dumping or thoughtless packing, no. You must fit them in precisely.
I like precision.
I enjoy tossing that which is no longer understood, remembered, used, needed. I enjoy making piles of "keep", "offer to friends" and "donate." I like sweeping out the garage and dusting behind the dressers; both are easy to ignore when you don't have to pay attention.
I also like reading old cards and letters, looking through scrapbooks and into the bowels of recycled frames. Behind the glass is always the most recent photograph; then the one it replaced, the one that one replaced, the one it replaced, and so on until you reach the flimsy black and white image that came with the frame and finally the thick backing that turns the many photos into a small vault.
Moving is messy and neat, exciting and wrenching.
The Academy Awards are next month. After we move. We'll be able to host more than two friends for the first time. I love the Oscars, most definitely because since my memory switched on, my parents have hosted an annual Academy Awards party. It was always blue jeans or black tie; anything goes. So is Louisiana.
After seeing The Big Short last night, today we saw The Martian. Seeing movies is one of the many things you can easily do when your kids are away. It's delightful.
The Big Short was incredible. The Martian was fine. Seriously, The Big Short is a must-see for all Americans. It, like therapy, should be a requirement of adulthood. It was smart, provocative, educational, funny, well-written, well-acted.
The pizza is hot off the grill. I'm starving.
Moving makes me hungry.