While waiting for dinner to cook (Tater Tot Casserole, thanks for asking), I headed to my scary storage room to sort and pack.  I had a giant box for donations and a smaller box for books and such. (Well, several smaller boxes and a very stupid roll of packing tape that insisted on clinging to itself instead of staying neat and tidy in the dispenser.  Curse you uncooperative packing tape!)

I spent an unfortunate amount of time literally twirling in a slow circle in the center of the room, wondering exactly where I could find a place to start.  That must be how it feels to dangle off the side of a sheer cliff, trying to grab a craggy rock or something but instead just flailing and panicking.  No progress.  Just a flurry of nothing.

Then I began to move things from shelf to shelf and occasionally, I’d tuck something into a box.  I decided to part with some old issues of Martha Stewart Living (such a gorgeous magazine) but kept a few craft books because you never know when I might actually start quilting again.  Or cover a lampshade.  Or play a hymn on the piano.  I gained some momentum, filled up two boxes and continued packing.

The funny thing, though, is when I uncovered a dusty unopened package of floral wire.  I rubbed the dust off of it.  You never know when you might need floral wire, I said to myself.  I moved it to the shelf of Things to Save For No Apparent Reason.

I stopped.  Tilted my head in that universal sign of “huh”?  I picked up the wire, looked at the price tag.  Fifty-nine cents.  I’ve owned it for at least ten years, maybe longer.

I decided to let it go.  Because . . . seriously.

If some day in the near or distant future I find myself in dire need of floral wire, I will trot down to the local floral wire store (also known as Walmart) and purchase a package.

Save me from myself.

Thank you and . . . need any latex paint?  How about a broken computer monitor?

I have a cold.  I didn’t realize it until last night when I finally sat down for the first time.  My day went something like this:

Soccer game, 8:30 a.m.  (I’d gotten to sleep at about 1 a.m.)
Returned home at 10:20 a.m.  Made sure that son got off to his football game.
Cleaned up the kitchen.
Packed a few boxes.
Delivered boxes to storage unit, went to lunch with 8-year old, dropped stuff off at Value Village.
Drove across town to other Value Village to browse.
Picked up Papa Murphy’s pizza for dinner.
Dragged out fall decorations.  Cleaned, decorated with help from 8-year old.

That doesn’t sound like much, but it was after six when I stretched out on my bed with a book and realized that my nose felt a lot more like a cold than an allergy.  And then I cuddled up with a tissue box and a book.

I hate that.  Who needs a cold?  Not me.  At least it’s a mild one.

We slept in today–well, by “we” I mean “me.”  My daughter woke up at five with a bad dream and then came in every so often to wake me just after I’d drifted back to sleep.

At last I crawled out of bed and made my way to kitchen where I cleaned it up and then mopped.  I fed the kids lunch, then decided that today would be the day that I’d clean out my boys’ room.  They had some old furniture and clothes I wanted to get rid of.

That project lasted almost three hours but I’d been successful and dropped off three pieces of furniture at the thrift store.

My daughter had begged me all weekend to make The Pioneer Woman’s cinnamon rolls (my linky thing won’t work  but you can find them here: http://thepioneerwoman.com/tasty-kitchen/recipes/breads/pioneer-womans-cinnamon-rolls/).  I just got The Pioneer Woman Cooks and Grace saw the photograph of cinnamon rolls.  Anyway, so I set about making them, only I didn’t have milk.  I had buttermilk.  And I don’t have maple extract.  So I used vanilla.

They were delicious.

They finished baking while I was trying to watch “The Amazing Race.”

And then when the show ended, I worked for four hours.

The upcoming week is half-days at school.  It’s conference time once again, also known as that time when I spend my entire afternoon shift feeling annoyed by my children, which is sad, but true.  Have you ever tried to work while four children are in your vicinity?  I dare you to try.

Tomorrow, though, I don’t work in the afternoon, so we plan to go to the pumpkin patch.  We love to go there . . . and, of course, I say to myself, “This is the last time we’ll go to the pumpkin patch.”  We’ve gone twelve years in a row.

Memories . . . light the corners of my mind . . . misty water-colored memories . . . of the way we were.

Several times recently, I’ve seen someone on television who is about my age and they look old.  (And by ‘someone’, I mean a real person, like that lady on the Dr. Oz show . . . not a fake person like Teri Hatcher or any of those “Housewives” with botox foreheads.)

And I think I’ve lost touch with reality because I don’t think I look old like those people I’ve seen who are my age.  But I probably do.

Awhile back, I was fretting while putting on makeup, worrying about the under-eye circles that have plagued me since I was a teenager.  What would people think when they met me?  Then I realized that people would not expect me to be twenty, considering I’ve been married for twenty-three years to a man who is almost fifty . . . and he has gray hair.  So, it’s okay to have saggy eyelids, I guess, considering I’m married to a guy with male pattern baldness.  (And I think he’s adorable.) It’s okay to look forty-five.

It’s still strange.

I’m kind of looking forward to being really old and wrinkled.  I think there will be so much less pressure to look cute then.  Of course, then I will wonder why I didn’t totally relish having the face of a forty-five year old.

Pass the eye cream.

SATURDAY
1)  Slept through husband’s departure for sunny southern California. (What?  We said goodbye the night before.)
2)  Drove to “away” soccer game and brought snacks (homemade brownies) and watched the game from under an enormous umbrella.  Daughter made 3 goals!
3)  Packed up all the board games we never play.  Two giant boxes worth!  Moved books, rearranged cupboards, added stuff to bag destined for thrift store.
4)  Delivered a teenage boy to his neighborhood, dropped off boxes at storage unit, picked up pizza from Papa Murphy’s.
5)  Visited with my mother while we ate pizza.  She said, “Where are those chairs from the living room?”  “I took them to Value Village.”  Alas, she loved those chairs, she wanted those chairs!  I had no idea.
6)  Collapsed and watched television until falling asleep.

SUNDAY
1)  Skipped church.
2)  Cleaned out fridge.  Threw away pickles only husband likes.  Cleaned and chopped romaine lettuce.  Made Rice Crispy Treats.
3)  Went to Value Village where the nice man in the furniture area sold me back the chairs for the low, low price of $14.99 for both (one was priced $14.99 and the other was $19.99).  He thought I should talk to the manager but I declined because it felt too shady to me.  What’s to stop anyone from saying they donated something the day before and now wanted it back?   The original price for both chairs (and footstool) would have been $35, but with my discount card and the understanding employee giving me a special deal, I only paid $10.  Which still seems funny to me.
4)  Attended  a party celebrating the life of a soldier friend of ours who died on September 14, 2009, in Afghanistan.  He was killed by a bomb.  The party was such an amazing celebration of his life.
5)  Stopped by my mom’s house to deliver the chairs.  Picked up two of her chairs she was replacing with my chairs.   You should have seen the guy at Value Village today when I dropped off her two very similar chairs.  He recognized me, obviously, and must think I’m a lunatic.
6)  Watched “The Amazing Race.”
7)  Worked until 1 a.m.

The end.

My husband came home from Texas today.  Tomorrow he is loading up all his clothes, shoes and personal effects so he can leave us early Saturday morning.

My house is in disarray because of the sorting, purging, organizing and packing that I’ve been doing.

We’re out of bread and milk.

I accidentally packed the book I wanted to read next.  (The Book Thief, recommended by Joshilyn Jackson!)  I finished Joshilyn Jackon’s Backseat Saints.  Fun and well-written book.

My daughter really really wants me to make caramel apples tomorrow.  And I should.  I wonder if I have the wooden sticks necessary?

My fingernails are nubs again.

I forgot to wash all my husband’s dirty clothes tonight.  Guess what I’ll be doing tomorrow?

Why don’t the kids ever put the ketchup back in the fridge?

My daughter also wants me to decorate for Halloween.  Maybe I’ll get that stuff out tomorrow.

Although going back to bed after taking her to school is also tempting.

All the details of life are an easy way to distract me from thinking about how long I’ll be separated from my husband.  We’ll see each other here and there, of course.  So, there’s that.

The kids and I will be moving in about 258 days.  Not that anyone’s counting.

October has arrived and that means soon my husband will depart.  He’s leaving on Monday for a quick visit to his family in Texas.  Then he’ll be here for one day.  The following day, he’ll load up our silly red Cadillac, turn right on I-5, drive 1,181 miles, and exit from I-5.

This has been the longest, slowest transition in history and so until he actually loads up the Cadillac and drives away, there’s a part of me that simply doesn’t believe this is really happening.

(January to October is nine months, the usual incubation period of a pregnancy.  Coincidence?  Probably.)

As part of his farewell tour to Washington state, he’s taking our daughter to her soccer game tomorrow morning.  They have to arrive at 8:30 a.m.  (ON A SATURDAY!  Hello, soccer-game-schedulers . . . are you aware that Saturday is meant for sleeping in?)

Anyway, I deeply appreciate this gesture from my husband.  I hope to be snoring at 8:30 tomorrow morning.

I have been practicing being the only adult in the house.  Tonight, for instance, I killed a spider with nothing but my slipper-covered foot.  (And then I made a teenager pick up the spider carcass with a napkin and throw it away because I am scared of spiders, even if they are pre-squished.)

Only nine and a half months to go.  Send Raid Max.  And cookies.  (I prefer homemade chocolate chip with walnuts.)

The soccer game on Saturday began at 9:00 a.m.  We were instructed via email to arrive at the field at 8:40 a.m.  The coach explained that the game would take place in Puyallup, about thirty minutes from my house.

I grumbled and dragged myself out of bed and arrived at the field only a couple minutes late.  We did not see our team. Where was our team?

I double-checked the email and found that the coach was talking about the game NEXT Saturday . . . I misread the email.  I wasn’t the only one.

So, we arrived at the actual field where the game was underway (ten minutes from my house).  We missed half the game, which was probably just as well since our team is, uh, struggling this year.  The girls don’t seem to know the basics of the game (my daughter does, of course) and it’s frustrating to watch the girls play.

Does that make me a bad mom?

Anyway.

Don’t answer that.

I cleaned out the coat closet today.  I removed coats from the rack on the back of the front door.  I stripped the coats from the coat trees.  The entryway looks bare.

I feel like I’m dismantling our life here one coat tree at a time.

Then I cleaned out the tall sturdy four-drawer metal filing cabinet.  Three drawers are empty now, so I was able to push, pull, and rock it into a more suitable place in the storage room.  I ran out of energy or I would have transferred items from the two-drawer filing cabinet into the empty drawers of the four-drawer cabinet . . . so I can rid myself of the tw0-drawer cabinet.  That’s a task for another day.

I am giving away the items I’ve cobbled together here in this life, in this house.  Anyone want the top bed from a bunk bed set?

I rolled up the deflated swimming pool and shoved it into a too-small packing box.

I have never lived in this sort of blank space before . . . inhabiting a life which will break into a thousand pieces and float away, leaving me to cling to its wreckage.

Oh, wait!  That makes it sound like moving is a bad thing.  And it’s not.  It’s a good thing.  But we’ve been here so long that it feels a lot like loss rather than progress.

A few months ago, after I heard about several friends my age who are adopting, I said to my husband, “Why would anyone do that?  Why would you want to disrupt your life and adopt at this age?”

Even as I spoke those words, I realized that our own lives are being disrupted . . . and that disruption and change is part of life.

If disruption and change were offered in a buffet, I would never scoop a helping of them onto my plate.  But life seems more like a cafeteria line and you get a serving of everything, whether you like it or not.

And sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you.

Today, after my shift ended, I glanced out the kitchen window and spotted a white cat squatting in the sand under the playhouse. I banged on the window.  “Get out of there!”

The cat just looked at me, undeterred.

I ran to the sliding glass door and yelled as I scurried across the yard and that cat raised one eyebrow in boredom until the very last moment when I was near enough to smack it with my slipper.

And so I noticed that the cat has obviously used that sandy area for a litter box a lot.  I’ve never seen it until now, never noticed until now but of course now that I noticed, I had to clean it up.

Did I mention it was raining?

And I still had on my slippers?

When I finished that unpleasant task, I decided to drain the fairly large inflatable swimming pool I purchased in hopes that summer would linger.  (Wrong.)

I drained it, washed it, dried it and lugged it inside so it can fully dry before I roll it up to store until next summer.

That’s why my entire family room floor is covered by a deflated swimming pool.

So, then, I had fifteen minutes to sit and stop sweating before it was time to go to soccer practice.  I failed to even bring a coat with me, but luckily, I never did clean out the trunk of the car, so I found a lightweight jacket to wear, nestled next to the eco-friendly shopping bags I never remember to take into the store.

It only rained a little, then the clouds scattered some and the sun shone.  The light was so beautiful and golden–to the right were dark, ominous clouds and to the left the sun glared.  I shifted my umbrella to the side where it provided shade so I could read my Oprah magazine.  (Don’t judge.)

The grass was emerald green and the children looked like they were in a commercial with perfect amber light side-lighting them.  It was a lovely moment.

A lovely moment I would have appreciated a whole lot more if I had been chilled to the bone.  Today was the first day that I felt truly chilly while sitting outside.

Summer is really over.

As if that weren’t obvious.  Duh.  I have a deflated swimming pool in my family room.

I’d like to pinch the person who scheduled all my daughter’s soccer games at 9:00 a.m. on Saturdays.  Do they not understand that I take Sleeping In very seriously?  And that my only Sleeping In day was Saturday?  Sad.

At least the downpour abated long enough for the game to be played.

When we got home, I cleaned two bathrooms.  I know!  It’s about time!

That afternoon, I spent some time with a friend who is a real estate agent and we examined my house and decided what needs to be improved before we attempt to sell it.  She has three grown boys and I always love the reassurance she offers.  She understands what it’s like for me now.  She knows why I just gave up and keep the boys’ clean clothes in baskets right here in the family room where I fold laundry.

I finished reading Mockingjay.  It’s always so sad to come to the end of a book (or series of books) that you really love.

This morning all six of us managed to get in the van on time for the drive to Mars Hill Ballard.  My poor husband had to drive through horrible rain.  (I played with my iPhone . . . but I felt sympathy.)

I noticed while in Seattle a number of people wearing flip-flops and carrying umbrellas.  Funny.

After church, I watched football until I fell asleep.  A stupid survey telephone call woke me.

So, I headed to Lowe’s to buy a few home improvement items.  Now my kids keep complaining that the light in the kitchen is weird.  That’s because I bought new fluorescent bulbs and covers for the fixture in there.  They were all used to the dim light.  I discovered one fixture is broken and needs to be replaced.

I am so boring that I am yawning through this entire post.

And so I apologize for the dull recitation.

Sometimes boring is good, though.  Considering the alternative and all.