So as some of you may already know, we're moving again. I should be packing boxes as we speak, but I've recently learned how to become a pro at procrastinating. On Monday we'll be in our vehicles, driving West to Wrightwood, California-- a tiny little town outside of LA up in the mountains. It seems like just a few months ago we were packed up in our pickup truck and basking in the excitement of driving from Arizona out to North Carolina. Now we've found ourselves with this season in our lives done, and this move ending up being the hardest for both of us. Alaska was expected, Oregon was bittersweet, Arizona had it's time, but North Carolina feels like it's going to be one of those heartwrenching goodbyes. Not just because of the scenery and culture, but the leaving two of our closest friends with the knowledge that a year like this may not happen again. Even though it was hard, exhausting, stressful, and full of 50+ hours of, it was really good.
So instead of facing reality and getting my shit done, I've been reminiscing as I slowly put my things into their appropriate cardboard boxes. Going through my bookcase, I came across all my old books that I've inherited from family. A lot of these were in the centerpieces of our wedding. I'm aware that I'm way too sentimental about useless objects, but the fact that these books have been in so many hands, then at that big log cabin lodge on our wedding day, and then are traveling along with us, is something that I find so romantic and absolutely love. This book is one of my favorites and is fraying and coming apart at the binding. It's called Love Songs of Childhood. How awesome is that?! Some things my husband may talk me into getting rid of (old gamecube system... I mean come on! I totally would have played Zelda again. One of these days.), but these books are never leaving. I hate packing and moving, hate it, and feel silly for having so many things, but some of them are just worth it to me. He should just be glad I don't have huge ass furniture I insist on lugging around everywhere. Just a couple oversized most-comforatable-on-earth couches my parents gave us... and an antique table that my Grandma grew up eating at... and two 20 pound night stands that we bought for our Alaskan lodge years ago... and a few other odds and ends. Not bad if you ask me.
Anyone have any tips for cross country moves? Like how to knock out a hyperactive 10 month old puppy with effective drugs? How to make the hours pass quickly in a pickup truck cab with said hyperactive puppy, one boy, and one girl... towing one Jetta? Anything special to see on the way to California taking the Northern route? How to make 2,447 miles seems like a skip and a jump instead of never-ending road to no mans land? To a town so small they don't even offer regular internet?! I have no idea what I'm moving to. It's all about the adventures though, right?
I'll be tweeting, picture snapping, and intermittently blogging our adventure. If you want to know if I'm surviving, send me periodic messages of moral support, or just want to laugh at our misfortune of having to drive 10 hour days with a puppy in our lap, make sure to follow me on Twitter. I have to have somewhere to vent.
Wish us luck!!!