Adventure tends to make a mess of things (Just Write)

My daughter is screaming "HOM-BRE!!!" at the computer. Over and over. Apparently Rosetta doesn't recognize her angry voice pronunciation. I tried to help, but I got the "be gone/ away with you, Mom!" snarl face. (How you say it?....muy enfadado?)

My son is watching the Kansas City V. Cleveland game.  I'll let you in on a little secret, Son. The Indians are always gonna lose to the Chiefs. That's just how it is. Also? Being a Cleveland sports fan of any kind is really only good for building character, learning how to deal with disappointment, that sort of thing. If you were hoping for the euphoria that accompanies a team you love actually winning, well....we might need to move back to New England for that.

Carnie high fives

Today I did things like (a) calling the new electric company and (b) donating the toddler-aged toys that I bribed my kids to get rid of by promising I'd take them to the seventh circle of hell also know as the local carnival, and (c) using the very last of the frozen chicken. I also bought (and consumed) some Denali Moose Tracks ice cream. It's all in the name of getting into the spirit of Alaska, folks.

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It feels like a hundred years ago now, but I ran a half marathon last month at a faster pace than I used to be able to run 800 meters. I reached mile 7 and then pretty much fought the urge to cry and/or heave the rest of the way. I took a solid five minutes to zombie-walk through the finishing area before reuniting myself with the good (and wicked fast) friend who had paced me. She pushed me to finish 13.1 miles at a 7:32 pace, and smiled the whole damn way.  And for the record, it's possible to want to punch and hug someone at the same time. (There are a handful of things I'm going to miss about Ohio, and she's one of them. )

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I haven't written here for a very long time. Perhaps you noticed? We are a week and days away from moving far, far away. So whenever my praying friends ask what it is I need, I tell them: patience and presence.

I stacked the past few weeks full with road trips and visits with loved ones, a graduation ceremony, a wedding, one-last time play dates and runs, the boy's last soccer game, the girl's last gymnastics practice, so many lasts as we make our way back to a new round of firsts.  I'm overdosing on bittersweet.

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I read a poem this morning by May Swenson that begins with these lines:

Distance
and a certain light
makes anything artistic—
it doesn't matter what.

I take that to mean a lot of things, but mostly it means that the disaster zone also known as my house might look like a gorgeous sheet of marble if you saw it from an airplane.  Adventure tends to make a mess of things, but in the most alluring ways.

So the next time I feel my resolve snapping under the weight of the moving chaos, I'll just take a step back, wait for a certain light to be cast. And if that doesn't work, perhaps someone has a hot air balloon I can borrow for a few hours.

Let's categorize this catching-up, rambling post as a chance to Just Write with my friend Heather (who knows exactly how it feels to move far, far away, and writes brilliantly about it.)