good news, at long last

Monday afternoon, I spent time emptying my storage unit, which I can no longer afford to keep. It was exhausting and emotional to once again place my hands on all the 'stuff' that filled our family's home before our hurried relocation last fall. Several times, beginning with the day some friends and I filled a U-HAUL van, I have forced myself to leave behind anything that doesn't really matter..
The first time was the hardest, because my first inclination was to leave *everything* behind except the contents of the girls' room, to never look back at anything that represented the life I had lost. But I knew that I was in shock, and that such a radical decision would surely be one I'd kick myself for later.
So we filled the moving van, and brought all the belongings that I thought might be important or needed to furnish a small apartment.
We never got the small apartment, so I rented storage. It turns out, I was glad I hadn't just walked away from that former life and the 'things' that populated it in one fell swoop. Over the course of the past year, I have periodically gone to the storage unit alone, and sorted through each object, saying goodbye little by little. I have taken several boxes at a time to various charities, and for the first time truly understood the value of those few things worth keeping.
Now what remains of those slow goodbye's sits in the driveway, waiting for the truck that will carry it off to ValuLand this Friday. Fully sorted through, it turns out that all the belongings that matter most fit into a few rubbermaids. The rest, enough to fill two pickup trucks, waits quietly under a tarp. Frames, linens, furniture, beads, candles, wind chimes..things endowed with the past.
Last night, like that first moving day, was painful. When Willow saw the decorations and furniture from our old house(for the first time since we lived there), she remembered much more than I thought she would. We both cried, and I held her tightly. I tried to help her understand that those things represent very good memories, and it's ok to have strong, surprising feelings when you see them..but that they are just 'things'. I hugged her and told her that we will keep all the great memories, but that we'll also make new ones. I told her that someday when we have our own apartment, we'll have so much fun finding creative ways to make it feel like home. And that the best things from that house are with us , and always will be : us.
She's only five - she may not have understood all of that..but she did understand the hug, and the shared tears, and the reassurance. I guess I was talking to both of us.

I am ready now to say farewell to the things in the driveway. And the stuff I'm still not ready to part with sits in a box, waiting to be sorted again on another day. I've come to realize that letting go of these objects entails a slow goodbye..and I'm ok with that.

Later in the evening, I received some very good news. I got the job that has been so needed, and will be starting right away! I am so deeply grateful...for progress. :)

And, by the way, for you. Thanks for reading, and caring what happens in our lives.

Thursday afternoon, I took one final look to make sure I had what I needed:

Tattered but trusty backpack from 1998 (originally used to lug books through the halls of the local community college)..
A few changes of clothes..
My 15 dollar Keds, which carried me 13.5 miles over pavement for the Global Night Commute(and have sentimental value which makes up for what they lack in attractiveness)..
Yoga Mat(which has never once been used for yoga)..
Sleeping bag..
My compact, lightweight tent..

And the most important thing - my traveling buddy Carma :) ..

We took off for Interlochen and enjoyed our freedom for two whole days. The first day was, for both of us, a gradual process of letting go of our anxieties and guilt (if you're a mom, you know the kind of guilt I mean: any time you are away from your kids doing something just for you..a nagging voice that says you don't deserve to relax). The campsites were beautiful at only $12 per night. Right next to the Fine Arts Camp, overlooking the lake.
We discovered that it is actually possible for a tent, when set up incorrectly, to look exactly like a giant taco. My cheap little tent was a no-brainer, but hers was of higher quality and more complex construction..we could have perhaps set it up more quickly had we not been paralyzed with laughter.
Saturday we hiked our way through six miles of forest..and later ate *lots* of delicious, unhealthy food at the Hofbrau. For a classy splurge, we toasted our friendship by the campfire over travel mugs of Boone's Farm Sangria..

I love roadtrips because there are no rules. I firmly believe that roadtrips on a miniscule budget are the best kind (the only kind I've ever known)..

When in doubt, drive North. :)

Hoping, Hoping..

I've been looking for a job since September..there is one specific place that I've been repeatedly checking with, to no avail..I would love to work there, so I keep dropping in and leaving notes, trying to get past the "We're not hiring right now" barrier..

Today I got the interview. It seemed to go very well. I *really* hope it leads to the job.

Great hours, great perks, and the chance to develop skills that will make me a more marketable performer..

Please work out. Please work out.

Also, Willow has been moved off the waiting list and into the class of a fantastic school where I believe she'll flourish this fall! And it's free! :)

If personal blogs make you uncomfortable, this is the perfect time to jump to another site like this one(thank you, Ryan, for getting me hooked). It's especially fun when you get in a tug-of-war over the most popular adjectives...you'll know what I mean when you get there.

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It's been nine months since my marriage ended. The divorce papers are filed, and in about six months, it should be final.

When I turned 18, I was working at Center Lake as a counselor for the ranch campers. I remember standing on the steps of the dining hall with my cabin of girls; their faces still dirty from their morning at the barn, breaking into song in front of the whole camp( tradition for campers and staff). I joined in, looking around to see who the poor shmuck was that we would be embarrassing...til they got to the name part and I realized it was me. I remember standing there thinking, "I got halfway through my 18th birthday without even knowing it. I am actually being *told* that it's my birthday."
To me, that summer afternoon was just another day.... except...
My mother gave me a special ring of white gold and diamonds and sapphires..the symbol of her love and belief in who I was becoming. I have kept that ring all these years and now as a parent, I look forward to continuing that story with my daughters as they become strong women.
It's funny - just today I remembered that it was given to me for my birthday.. it looms in my history as a separate event , which far overshadows the memory of actually turning 18.
At the end of this month, I will turn 26 years old.
For the first time maybe ever, I am acutely aware of this approaching passage. The date stares at me from the calendar in the kitchen.
The reason is simple - I am ready for 25 to be gone. It's been the hardest year of my life and I cannot *wait* to kiss it goodbye.
It's not rational, it won't change my given circumstances. I'll still need a job and a car and a place of our own.
But it symbolizes our ability to survive. The dreaded 25 will be gone, behind us, a year we'll never have to do again.
It symbolizes hope. The belief that this year will be better, ahead of us, a year we've never done before.

So you think you can dance?

I just finished watching this show, and felt the same reverence I do every time I see a truly gifted dancer performing from their heart.
After, I danced around the house like I had the gift. Seriously - you should have seen it.

Stop laughing.

If you were at Erin's wedding reception last weekend, you understand how much I do NOT have the gift.
My lack of dance training/talent is usually not glaringly obvious. Because I don't put myself in .. dancing situations. In fact, until last weekend, I had never been out dancing(unless you count the school cafeteria after football games). So, other than a feeling of general wistfulness and New Years' resolutions that involve words like 'salsa' and 'swing'...it hasn't been a huge issue....still..

You know what could make it kind of obvious that you don't know how to dance? At all?

Having your dear friend marry a BALLET MASTER. Whose groomsmen are Dancers. Many guests : dancers. The idea of learning how to dance in public makes me nervous enough ( I think I'd need [lots of] classes first) , but in that crowd, I was hopelessly embarrassed. I kept sneaking away, looking for a shadow to hide in. At one point, I was actually carried forcefully onto the dance floor. These capable artists took it upon themselves to help me find my dance .. thing. They were gracious, fun, outgoing, patient..but despite their kind efforts, I remained thoroughly panic-stricken.

Later, the bride (a fierce performer in her own right) asked me what I do in an audition if they tell me to start dancing. I answered that, so far, they have always sent us away with an instructor, taught us combinations,then had us return to perform. In that situation, you get the chance to repeat the steps while watching real dancers, and when it's your turn you fake it like your pants are on fire.

This is the year, though. It may not be New Year's, but I am resolved. The next time I have a friend who marries a ballet instructor, I want to dance along with them. I'm not saying I'll be Michael Flatley. I think what I'm shooting for is..a sense of public solitude - a shedding of self-awareness(that way, if I suck I don't have to know!!)..

;)

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The wedding was completely unique - the couple clearly made for each other. Being a part of it was an honor that I'll never forget. You're beautiful together, guys. I can't wait to see the trail you blaze in this world. Love ya!
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