I wish I’d taken pictures.
Well, I wish Loc had taken pictures.
Actually, I’m just glad it’s over.
We’re officially residents of a chic Dallas high rise now; a good friend took us in. We even have free passage – I can to go the gym, unattended. It’s a pretty fancy place. My inaugural act? Begin a loaf of bread. Good food cultures community.
Our former place is empty. Our stuff is split four ways. Much of what we own will stay here, kept in the Army’s care. That move came first, and it’s not air conditioned. Most of what we live on, and the delicate things that can’t take the Texas heat, moved next – those things will move by sea; we should see them when we land. That A/C knowledge came a bit late in the game for us, so it was touch-and-go for a bit. It was… scary. Yay lenient movers!
The third will go by plane – it’s the stuff we forgot, the stuff we waffled over during the previous move, the stuff we deliberately planned to set aside. My very lovely Dutch oven landed here, as did my proofing box. Oddly, so did my Sevillan ceramics. Oops.
I had weighed the Dutch oven – ten pounds, totally doable – and was earnestly planning to take it with me: it is essential, after all. I opted instead for a yoga mat and two wooden blocks. Better use of space and weight. My friend has a lovely Dutch oven. Gays… like nice things. Glad to belong.
That leaves me with my bags. We spent the better part of Monday culling clothing and building bags: keep, pack, toss. Keep – everything going by sea. Pack – everything coming with me. Toss – gone. This is my favorite part of a move; it’s the best opportunity to lighten up I ever get. We filled four large bags with clothing for donations this time. Four bags! It was a good haul for a day. We also packed our bags: hoorah for summer moves.
I have four full weeks left at work. I’m the second to leave in recent months; our company’s been bracing for July. My scooter’s gone; my big purple ball is gone; I am a fraction of my former silly self. I’ve been working sales / technical assistance these past two years. I’ve accumulated a head full of theoretical niche knowledge, in a niche I’ll likely never touch again. I’m now mentoring our three newer hires as they learn by arbitrary exposure. The hydraulics industry is enormous and complex; it takes six months to become a competent novice by this method, and there’s really no other way. Our own will assimilate the new guys, coming in the busiest months of the year. Fun!
Packing for June and July was… an ill-informed crapshoot: in the absence of total clarity, conjecture, aspiration, and necessity competed for my space. I think I did a decent job; I’ve got everything from fancy dinner wear to water-mountain-run-and-hike wear – a proper day pack too! And, of course, every manner of shoe. Be like water.
I learned after I’d made my choice that I’d have a chance to visit the Pacific Northwest – and the proper time to explore it too. My return to Sandpoint has been a long time coming, and it’s been my soul’s chief longing for years: I have a long-delayed date with a very dear friend. Way back in 2015, when I was wrestling with my identity in a Soviet stairwell at 3 AM, she was there. Words alone cannot suffice.
That, and mountains. Magnificent, craggy, gorgeous mountains. There’s a bundle of things I may have to buy anew; I’m trying to stop short of crampons. Mount Saint Helens is on my mind.
I’m so excited for what lies ahead.
I’ll be taking pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.
It’s time again to move.
Happy Sunday –