lots o' stuff

First, why do I feel like I am the last person to find out that Angelina is pregnant again? And that she and Brad are getting married? I know I've been preoccupied -- okay, consumed -- but, seriously, somebody needs to let me know these things.

It has been a while since I've checked in, so I'm trying to organize my thoughts and figure out the best way to update you on all that has happened in the past couple of weeks. There is one Dwight Schrute bobblehead that figures into all of this, but I'll get to that later.

First, I should say everything is still in place for our move on March 10. Shaun had a hellish week of work last week in efforts to meet a Friday deadline, which he succeeded in meeting (after a week of very little sleep and an obscene number of Red Bulls). Consequently, it has been a somewhat manic week for Eli and me as well, because, as it usually goes, when one person in the family is batty, so is everybody else. I guess that's the mark of a truly empathetic family. And I suppose we should feel good about this fact, but really, we are just tired.

Yesterday and today, we de-housed the house, taking pictures off the wall, breaking down furniture, cleaning out the garage and attic, and reducing most of what we have here to its lowest terms in preparation for the movers who come Thursday. I am really not nervous at all about this because we've just been through it a little more than a year ago. They will come in, introduce themselves (or not), bring in the boxes, and rifle through all of our personal belongings (including our underwear), sorting them into categorical boxes. Pretty simple. And we will watch as they shuttle them via squeaky dolly onto the snorting 18-wheeler, bound for our new home in Maryland.

When we moved from Baltimore, I remember being somewhat apprehensive about the movers arriving. What exactly were they going to do with our stuff -- particularly my underwear? Moving really makes you evaluate what your material possessions mean to you -- mainly because you have to go through them all, which is something you rarely do if you don't move. You just stuff them in the attic or the nearest closet or basement and forget about them.

I am always, to a certain, measurable degree, verklempt, when I sort through artifacts of my life -- which is why, I suppose, sorting through our closet last night caused Shaun and me to launch into a discusion of whether or not we believe in an afterlife and all the additional conversations that are associated with such a light, insignificant topic of discussion. It was the rosaries, I tell you. We only have like, a thousand, most of them from various grandparents of ours-- probably enough to start a church of our own. And as I separated them from the other secular jewelry in the lot, I couldn't help but reflect on where they had come from and how I hadn't used them in a very long time and what that meant about who I was and who I have become, and really just how our little family of three had evolved in the past two years. I don't say this as negative thing but as a real mark of growth. More about that later. But in the meantime, I can't help mulling over this blog post. If you have time and are looking for some spiritual contemplation, take a little time to read it, as well as the link to the post that sparked it all. Warning: Heavy stuff.

These past couple of weeks have been more trying than we probably could have imagined. Some days I feel a thousand years old. A couple of weeks ago, Eli and I were in a car accident, caused mainly by me and the millions of thoughts sparring in my head. I have always known I am not a good multi-tasker, but I guess this was the honest-to-goodness proof. Sometimes the universe just delivers a giant bitch-slap, which startles you into a new level of thinking, making you separate into different boxes "the important stuff in life" and "the extremely trivial crap that for some reason you thought you should be consuming yourself with." Everyone involved in the accident is fine, and I am most thankful for that and am focusing on that one fact, even as I feel drawn to replay step-by-step all that unfolded in those few sacred and chaotic moments. It's over, and we are moving on...with one less vehicle, but we'll address that after everything else shakes out.

Mixed in with all of the above have been other collisions of different varieties. This past week our realtor here called to say that the buyers for our house were having difficulties securing financing and were 'exploring other options' for getting the loan -- and this was followed by about a 24-hour period of not knowing whether we would get the sale or have to hang out the shingle again. And then the following morning we got a call from our loan officer in Maryland, saying that our loan program had been eliminated and that we would have to shuffle things up a bit and do some rearranging to 'make things work'.

THEN -- I called the NBC stores to check on the status of the Dwight Schrute bobblehead that I ordered at the beginning of December for Shaun's Christmas present and learned that even after re-ordering it in mid-January, it somehow still had NOT been shipped. I wish I had something really witty and acerbic to say about this, but I am just pissed that not even this miniscule and ridiculous aspect of our life can come together favorably and without a big damn effort.

We have managed to somewhat escape (or at least minimize) the effects of the aforementioned emotional upheaval by (a) watching a lot of American Idol, with which I am admittedly COMPLETELY obsessed with this season, (b) watching considerable amounts of A & E and HGTV, (c) consuming unprecedented amounts of junkfood, and (d) drinking the occasional margarita. Heh. And Eli has been spinning and whirling his matchbox cars across every wall in our house. And he makes his own sound effects, too, just in case you are wondering.

In our last week here, we'll be tidying up things, calling to set up/cancel utilities, saying goodbye to friends, trying to grab a few shots of the bluebonnets as they start to bloom, and continuing to build our arsenal of in-flight toddler gear. So far we have lollipops and other snacks, DVDs, a disposable camera, and velcro.

Yes, velcro. I know, it's weird, but whatever works, right?