Dude, Where's My Stuff?

I have felt the impact of not having my belongings with me. There is an underestimated amount of comfort and connection that we have, in general I would guess, to the things we own. Our couch, our plant stand, our bedspread, our dishes, our rugs.
They are the familiar landscape that we live in and it is so interesting to see my reaction at the lack of "my stuff". As I wander around acquainting myself with this new place, I realize I feel sometimes as if I am floating, as if I am visiting (aren't we all, in the end?). But there is this feeling that I don't quite know what to do with myself. I love the new things- the rugs gifted our way by family, the beautiful tables and artwork from childhood and such but the things that I recognize, the things that say "Yep, this is home." --Those things haven't arrived so the surreal feeling that this isn't yet mine, is intact and keeps me slightly off kilter in the face of it.

I love all the gifts, the hand me downs, the recognized pieces and the newer treasures- I really do, they are my style and slide right in and make me smile with their beauty or funk. But the same shorts and shirts, the lack of identifying landscape pieces that anchor me to what I have perceived as "home" for so long- that is harder than I thought and I can't decide whether I should be upset or not about the fact that I have that attachment at all.

I am so visual that it make sense- I identify routes to different places by landmarks not by North/South or East/West- not even street signs- it's more like "Oh, that tree that curves up and over, I turn left there and then the barn with the sheep- that's where I take a right."
My landmarks are all new here and I know that the only GPS that will work is the one in my heart that must learn that the only landmarks I need on my horizon are contained within my soul. That's a tough lesson, that one.

That Daily Walk of Wonder

Things have been amazing- what an interesting and refreshing thing to see written (or typed) down. There are so many times that I have looked around and stood still with awe at it all. The house does need work- crazy daisy amounts of work. But the house knows us, it calls us in and says, “Thank God you're here! Welcome, I've been waiting and waiting.”

So many years full of work and pursuit of this labor of love lie ahead and I can only sigh with contentment and eagerness to get started.

And yet, as I walk through, I see all those little things that I want to get started on and I know that without a master plan I will be lost in the world of A-Little-Bit-Here-And-A-Little-Bit-There which will have me flitting back and forth with ADD unable to choose one thing and stick with it. It is only because I can see the way the house will be, the way it once was and it makes me eager to get started.

Of course money is a big issue and we must prioritize what needs to happen far before we get to the parts we want to have happen. So, I am back to the manifesting table and putting out into the Universe that what we need will come with eager, quiet wings to rest with us and settle us in.
And as I watch the children splashing for hours in the river and the dogs leaping and bounding in the newly fenced yard, I can only think, “Is this real?” and sigh with joy as I send out a prayer of gratitude for these moments.

They Say They're Worth A Thousand Words

They say that a photo is worth a thousand words and as much as I like playing with words, looking through the photos makes me just wonder at what was seen and experienced along the way. As I flip through them, I take a deep breath and really feel the gratitude for the journey we made and the journey we are embarking upon.

“Oh Look!! It's A Man Deer!”

As we drive these thousands of miles to relocate this family of ours, we keep our eyes peeled for anything interesting, strange, lovely or odd. So, when the cry came from the back of the van, we couldn't help but look around in confusion and wonder-- and then stifle a laugh. My youngest pointed and yelled, “Look! It's a man deer!!” Imaging the Horned God himself, my husband and I looked around confused -- and saw a buck with antlers in a field we were passing.

“She means 'buck'.” He said, as we bit down on our lips not wanting her to feel self conscious.
Forget "buck"- it's a "man deer" for heaven's sake!!

Then there were the unusual and interesting pronunciations of the different towns and states. On more than one occasion we had to correct the children's pronunciation of "Illinois". And it begs the question: Where did all these pronunciations come from? It is spelled one way and pronounced another just to keep us on our toes. The states, the towns, the rivers & parks- so many names & influences in this country. It makes me so curious about who came before and forged these roads and towns and what the draw was that brought them there.
What roads will we forge? What is driving us?

“Our ships are skippered by Norwegian babies” and Other Reasons MadLibs Deserves An Award

MadLibs are probably one of the most fantastic things ever- I'm serious. I know- smart phones (of which I have none), airplanes, sliced bread- these are amazing- but MadLibs, well, a girl has her favorites.
My mother gave us the gift of about 20 MadLibs for the trip and we used them like you might eat expensive chocolate- slowly and savoring every bit.
One of our favorites made me laugh so hard I couldn't even read it through without restarting it several times. We take turns giving words and have a blast once we get to hear the final product.
Here are some of our favorites- the words in bold are the ones supplied by us.

-Look at yourself in the mud. What does your freaky face tell you?

-Our ships are skippered by Norwegian babies, whose ancestors, dating back to the ninth temple, were seafaring toddlers.

-Our pastry chef creates rude desserts that melt in your coin. Our dashing waiters are at your cup before your can raise a butt cheek.

-Make sure there is sufficient air in all four dogs as well as your spare mountain.

-Make sure your windshield chickens are functioning hard.

I'm telling you, these are good times- these MadLibs. I'm not sure about you but a ship skippered by Norwegian babies sounds like an adventure to me and I will be sure not to forget my windshield chickens next time I go on a trip. What about you?

Road Trip Adventure- Part 1

I only say Part 1 because I am certain there will be more than one set of adventures. To date there have been several. Of course traveling in this manner (you can read about that here) means there is nothing but adventure- but there have been some moments where I just threw back my head and laughed at the irony, the craziness or just because I wasn't in the mood to rage.

There was that legendary first stop- you know, when we pulled into a grocery store parking lot and finally got to use the bathroom, walk the dogs and eat some food? That was almost 5 hrs into our first day of driving. I was ready to be out of the car and we walked the dogs and chatted and stretched- until one of the children pointed to one of the two Rubbermaid containers strapped securely with bungee cords to the rack on the bumper of the van. I looked to where she pointed and saw that the exhaust had melted an entire section of the container and exposed the small dollie in there. So, I shook my head, laughed at the craziness of it and unloaded the container and reworked the interior of the van to make the new items fit. Then, realizing we had no where to dispose of the container- since it was so big, my husband took out his pocket knife and cut it into little pieces so we could throw pieces away a little at a time at stops along the way.

Then there was the size of the room we stayed in. Believe me, I am not complaining- it ended up being more convenient and almost the same price as camping along the way and the animals could stay too so there is nothing to complain about. I was just surprised at how small the room was- impressively small- it was almost the same size as our tent but it had a bathroom- and the building offered a pool- hooray! So it was all bodies and two beds and animals.

We were startled but took in stride the wind gusts that played with us like we were a toy put there to entertain Nature and tried to avoid the semi-truck that bore down on us and honked, looking like it had attached itself to our bumper while I tried to move fast enough to get out of the way. They had some road rage issues and we avoided them like the plague after that.

Then there was the cat, crying balefully from the back of the car in her carrier where she sits between the children. She had been so quiet that we were concerned that she was wasting away or something but suddenly there was a faint, 'Rau, rau.” – She doesn't meow, she “rau”s.-- It got louder and louder and we told her how sweet she was and plied her with food and salami and nothing worked. We weren't sure what she needed and were about to get some more water for her when the smell hit us. It was just about then that the rauing got louder too as she smashed herself as firmly against the door as she could to escape the poo she had deposited in the corner of the tiny cat crate. Apparently, it was so rank that she was bent on escaping it too. No one blamed her.

Suddenly, we had to laugh because otherwise it would have been disaster. The windows went down, our heads went out them and we scanned the desolate landscape for an exit sign while gulping fresh air. Sure enough, as if the Universe knew it was coming (as I'm sure it did) there was a tiny sign and we turned off on an impossibly small road that quickly came to a “T”. If we turned left we went under the highway and to an undetermined destination. If we turned right, there was a sign that said “No services” and promptly- as in 10 ft-- dead-ended in the desert. I imagine there weren't any services there-- the sign was clearly redundant. We pulled into the desert and had the cat, the crate and ourselves cleaned up, aired out and back in the van in 10 minutes flat. Poor kitty shot back into her crate with joy, probably hoping to escape the hell we are putting her through.

We promised her mice at the end of this whole trip. As for me? Well, I'm having breakfast sausage- a lot of it- while the children eat chocolate and my husband hoarks down Mexican stuffed shells. But for now, we munch carrots and tell the animals that they are safe and loved and remind the children to be kind to each other while we listen to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and drive across this gigantic country.

Anxiety Sucks – No Really, It Does

I have had anxiety for a lot of my life and it colors everything in tones that you would rather it didn't. My particular anxiety is usually around health and car issues. I know- weird but true. 
When I took some serious time to look over this anxiety and what my particular triggers were, I discovered that the root issue was the same- control. I feared most the things I had no control over. I can only do so much to keep my car running properly and only so much to keep my body and the those of my children, healthy. Outside of that, I better sit back and enjoy the ride- and I try. I really do.

Even the actual ride of sitting in our van loaded to the gills with pets and belongings, a clamshell on top and a small rack on the back at the bumper while we drive clear across this country- I am trying. We had the brakes done and done again and the tires are a scant 4 months old and our amazing mechanic neighbor helped us replace all the spark plugs with top of the line replacements and checked everything for us. We did what we could and yet when it came time for me to drive, I gripped the wheel like a teenager with a driver's permit driving the freeway for the first time. The whole time I was thinking, “Crap, that's says the speed limit is 75!- There is no way I am doing that.” I'm a big fan of the right lane – that indispensable slow lane. Big fan-me.

The van is old and even with everyone saying it will be fine, I am worried. There are a lot miles to clock- all at one time at high speeds. I am okay at 60 mph but over that I get nervous.-- But there are two drivers and sleep came late the night before so I wanted to do my part. I put 100 miles in and was happy to relinquish control of the vehicle to someone who not only has experience with big trucks but has also driven across the country and back at least 3 times. 
So, I sit back, take a deep breath and try to convince myself of the insanity of my own fears. But that's of course, not the problem. Anxious people know they are anxious and we often realize how outlandish our fears can be which serves only to make us hide them. I hide them well and most people would never know that I am panicking.

Whenever this happens I know that I hold the key to this labyrinth of fear that traps me- to let go and trust and I have a tendency to be bad at that. So, as we barrel down the road in this desolate landscape of sagebrush, cliffs and canyons, I drive into the face of my fears and take a deep breath as I get ready to let go of it all.