moving day

Grey and tangled.

For months I have been anticipating/dreading the moment when the moving truck would rumble up my street, and when it finally came, it felt like the judgment day and I was a sinner. In typical fashion I had prepared the house and packed everyone else's things before my own, which meant I was literally throwing things in a suitcase in my room as the movers were waiting outside in the hallway. And they were not amused. All day I ran up and down the stairs, all around the house, fielding questions as the five stone-faced movers plowed through.

Up until this point I made it a priority to be meticulously organized, but this day was like an ink splotch on my careful caligraphy. I managed to lose my cellphone charger, my ipad charger, and my car keys, all in one morning. By the end of the day I was so drained physically and emotionally I felt ill.

The image that keeps returning to my mind is of the proverbial wheel of time. I'm like a pebble caught in the treads; I've been picked up, and I'm rolling forward, ready or not.

What an ordeal it is to move! By the end of day two as I waved them goodbye with the last of my worldly possessions I felt like I deserved some kind of award, and yet people do this all the time. How?

Home for Christmas

A Christmas miracle: snow on Christmas Eve.

Naturally the children rush outside to jump on the trampoline,

while I bake cookies inside.

Decorations are provided,

dinner is prepared,

and we share our last meal together in our home.

Provisions for Santa were not forgotten.

Christmas morning dawns,

and a childhood rite of passage is shared with our newest member.

sorting spools and such

As our final days draw near we do a lot of sorting. While I work, my little one scours his eye level for things to unhinge at a pace that rivals my rate of organization. This week, to his delight, he discovered spools of thread.

When my paternal grandma (can't imagine calling her grandmother) passed away a number of years ago I inherited one of three sewing kits. Now when I say "kit", what I mean is a generously-sized three-tiered tackle box with every compartment filled to the brim. I guess she did a lot of sewing, but that was before my time. In any case, she was famously organized and along with the kit I also got this bin of spools. I've added to it over the years, but other than that it has remained unmolested until this week when my little guy emptied it's contents on the floor. As I was gathering and rewinding the thread I saw, for the first time, something on the bottom of the bin that Grandma had written years ago. In bold black permanent marker in all caps it said, "PANTY HOSE". Anyone who knew Grandma knows this is so classic, and I've been chuckling to myself about it ever since.

I love that I'll be bringing this little piece of my past to our new life abroad. Life is both a physical and emotional journey, and while I'm doing everything I can to be physically ready, the emotional part is harder to manage. I'm so grateful for these little gems of experience along the way that enable me to process and proceed in this bittersweet transition.

the end of the road

The first thing we did in 2009 was buy a Honda Odyssey. Most young families see
the purchase of a minivan as a delightless inevitability. We included ourselves in this camp.

However, in short order we found ourselves enamored with the space,
convenience, and family-friendly design. We grew to love our minivan.

We carefully shoveled it out from many a blizzard.

We trusted our minivan to carry us safely and comfortably on more than a dozen cross-country trips.

But mostly it was always there for us, in the background of life,

witnessing many impromptu front porch picnics,

providing a protective buffer for little ones,

 and guarding our family space.

This summer it carried our closest friends away to the airport to live abroad,
but it will not do the same for us because last week we sold it.

As we looked on our beloved van one last time at the dealer parking lot, I would have sworn at that moment, though composed of glass, rubber, and steel, that our van had a soul. And it was definitely female. The girls were sure of it.

We were told to bring a vehicle with four-wheel-drive and a high clearance to Georgia, and the van failed both requirements. So we traded it in for a sporty number in gold. It is definitely cooler than our old van in every way, but let's just say it has a big parking spot to fill.

'tis the season

Woe is me.

We are weary. Every night we collapse into bed after another long day of preparation and promise each other it won't always be this way. I decided to compose a Master To Do List, and it's up to 5 yellow legal pages long. In the beginning when something would fall through I'd be momentarily exasperated, but it's happened so many times now, I've learned to just add it to the List. I missed commemorating the one-month-to-go landmark, but since even that date is still (sadly) subject to change, I'll leave it be.

We've had many positive developments too. We sold our van and bought a new car, that deserves it's own post. We're halfway done getting the house licensed for renting; and we found a tenant for our home and nearly signed a contract. We're almost done with all the medical visits and immunizations - the rabies shots were brutal. Overall we're on our way, we just can't slow our pace. There are still endless forms to fill out, phonecalls to make, contracts to sign, things to buy, things to sell, things to pack, loose ends to tie up, and farewells to bid. And somehow we have to squeeze in Christmas. Just under 4 weeks to go.

Home sweet home

Today I had an open house of sorts to find a renter for our home while we are gone. It was preceded by countless hours of work and preparation. I am now left with two distinct feelings: first, elation that it's finally over; second, remorse that, of all the applicants who desire to live here, I have to turn away all but one. I was so unexpectedly moved by their stories, by their hope of finding a fresh start, and by their seeking something that this house seems to offer them. It makes me realize that, with everything we've been through over 7 years of life here--with all the cracks, flakes, and dust; all the weeds, ants, and bats; all the hot, cold, and damp; all the creaks, drafts, and uneven edges; all the blood, sweat, and tears--I love this place. I love the life we've lived here, and I will leave a part of my heart here.

feeling the squeeze

Photo reflects life: Not perfectly clear, cluttered, smooshed, still optimistic.

November already and we're feeling the squeeze -- about two months to go. Although I write it I still don't quite believe it. What was I doing just two months ago? It doesn't help that Hurricane Sandy blew through and stole away three whole days of productivity. Now, on top of everything else, I must fight inertia. We hope to start advertising the house to renters in the next two weeks. Also need to prepare the family car for sale. Well, both cars, eventually.

I'm glad Halloween is over. We muddled through this year, with and without power. But today begins a new month, we're back on the grid, I threw the candy out of the house (literally), and I'm ready to get back on track.

the woods are lovely, dark, and deep

Our girls lovingly call this place "the colorful forest",

and it is.

With woodland spryte leading the way,

and stoney path underfoot,

 

the woods are open before us.

Here is nature in delicate balance.

A cool, damp, spicy Nirvana?

Or nature's playground?

Only occasional signs of civilization,

surrounded by signs of another kind.

We'll be eager to return.

Georgia on my mind

The Republic of Georgia; the basics

Population: 4.7 million (84% ethnic Georgian)
Size: about 27,000 sq. miles (slightly larger than West Virginia)
Capital: Tbilisi 
Language: Georgian or Kartuli (Russian and English also in use)
Religion: Orthodox Christian (over 80%)
Climate: Humid subtropical to continental (in general, hot summers and relatively cold winters)

mind's eye view

Think of any month of the year. What do you picture in your mind?

This is what I see: the months laid out in order horizontally, but instead of stretching off the table, they fade away to a hazy future. I think it originated with the calendars my mom posted on our bulletin board in my childhood. The summary of months for the year must have been right at my eye level.

I decided to create this calendar that matches up with my mind's eye view for the purpose of tracking the many details related to our move. Today I'm feeling optimistic and organized.

modus operandi

Since June we've tried to set aside time each Saturday to work on projects around the house. It was my husband's idea, and I have to give him credit for that because the truth is we have very different styles when it comes to work.

I have what you could call a marathon approach: get it done at any cost and if that means cancelling plans or staying up late, so be it. And sometimes there's a bit of procrastination involved.

My husband is more measured and prefers to start earlier in advance, working in smaller increments, in piecemeal fashion, but in balance with the rest of his life.

We've had to learn to work together, and there are moments when we passionately disagree on the method, but, encouragingly, the work is getting done. This image unwittingly captured just such a moment. Today he scraped peeling paint from the porch ceiling while I cleaned up the front yard.

the abundant life

“Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend … when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present—love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us [happiness]—the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth.” ~Sarah Ban Breathnach

I love this perspective on abundance: "the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth". As I prepare for our journey, I'm starting to feel the full weight of the decision we've made to uproot and reestablish. There are thrilling manic highs each time I complete a project I've put off for years, debilitating lows when I'm overwhelmed by the endless needs and expenses, and bouts of distraction and daydreams in between (although I can hardly envision the future). I believe that tuning in to the abundant reality surrounding me is a positive turn, so I share this passage—primarily as a reminder to myself—as an ideal during an unusual time.

creating a timeline

After over a year of waiting, we finally received a firm departure date. On 7 January 2013 we are moving to the Republic of Georgia. The amount of preparation required for 2-3 years of life abroad is overwhelming. I'm creating a working timeline and spending every moment of baby's naptime on the clock, so to speak. My days are filled with passport applications, rental licensing and lease agreements, doctors visits, and endless forms, faxes, and fees. Today marks the start of the 90-day countdown.