So much to say, so much to write about this move. There are leasing agents I’d like to string up by their evil toes, incidents with garbage men, and soapy basements – all stories worth telling. I insist on starting from the beginning though so, let’s just cover Day 1 today.

Moving day (Saturday) started with a bang, or rather a ralph – Joshua started puking from a high fever at 1am that morning. Needless to say, I was without sleep going into the big day. As 7am approached I was up and headed to Starbucks for caffeine reinforcement. Despite the sick baby I was in relatively good spirits and ready for the long day ahead.

Mostly the day went as expected, a few broken items, lots of muttering and cursing over bruised shins and dropped boxes. Everyone who showed up to help was fantastic and made the occasion better than it should have been. At the end of the day, with boxes everywhere and a mountain of unpacking and cleaning ahead of me like a looming mountain, I was spent. I had very little sleep the night before and had worked myself to the bone for about 16 straight hours. So, I bid my guests goodnight and retired to my new master bathroom where my jacuzzi tub awaited me. The jacuzzi  tub that made me want to rent this house in the first place.

I ran the water, got in and took a deep breath. After 8 months without a bathtub, this was as close to Heaven as I could imagine. I decided that tonight was as good a night as any to try out the jacuzzi function and reached for the button. This is where things get kinda fuzzy and the emotional scarring begins.

Eyes closed, head resting, I reach for the button and depress it with ease. Joyously the tub fills with aerated bubbles and I sigh contentedly. Before said sigh had run its course, it was replaced with a shriek. Apparently the gentleman who rented this house before us, didn’t fancy himself to be a jacuzzi bath taker. You want to know how I know this? Because BLACK MOLD SHOT OUT OF THE JETS AND ALL OVER MY BODY! Let me re-iterate, BLACK SLIMEY CHUNKS OF MOLD ON MY BODY!

I jumped up and began draining the bathtub, while furiously trying to get the pieces off of me. As I sat on the edge of the tub, near tears, waiting for the gross water to drain all I could do was laugh. This had to be a joke. I mean after all of my hard work and lack of sleep, isn’t it just my luck that my naked body would end of covered in mold?

While it seems reasonable that I would just clean out the tub and run another bath, alas, there was no more hot water. Whoever added the master addition on installed a seriously insufficient water heater for the tub, so that was that. No hot water, no bath.

Sometimes I wonder why these things happen to me but then I am reminded, if they didn’t….what in the world would I write about on this webpage? Happy reading y’all!

This is one of those posts that isn’t meant to entertain or enlighten. It is a moment of self-awareness simply put to paper.

Since we moved, I’ve had good days and bad. As with any transition, the consequences of change are felt. It is wonderful to reside amongst such jaw dropping beauty. If I take a deep breath when looking at the ocean or the trees occupying the nearby cliffs, I feel prettier, smarter and more fulfilled. Internalizing the beauty of your surroundings isn’t hard to do around here.

However, I am really missing the safety net of my old home. I miss the comfort that comes with familiarity. Turlock is ugly. Well, maybe not ugly but unconvincing and awkward. The people, however, are like family so the make of the town never bothered me entirely. Once I set foot in my old job, Turlock ceased to be an issue. It was where this amazing opportunity was so, I would no longer question the town’s beauty or comfort.

When we made the decision to move, it was precipitated by a 12 month period of wanderlust. We both felt like we wanted to live someplace else. We wanted to choose where our children would be raised, not just end up someplace and call it home. I look back on that period of time as very purposeful because had we not been looking, this opportunity would not have landed upon us.

For me, the biggest part of leaving Turlockwas shockingly not the prospect of leaving my family. We are amazingly close and I knew that no span of time or distance of space would change that truth. My mother, father and sisters are a part of me and in that way are always with me in what I do. I knew I would miss the ability to just stop by their houses but I knew the move would allow for periods of extended time spent together that would be more meaningful than the “drive-by’s” of old.

So, the clincher for me really, was leaving my job and all of the things/people that went with it. My job had fallen into my lap 7 years ago. I was offered a shiny present that I hadn’t yet earned, all wrapped up with a wonderful salary and title. I treated the present with great care and after a few years, had earned that title and salary with great effort. My job became a second persona. It was still me, just better. The person I strived to be at work was, for the most part, the woman that I wanted to be as a child. When I saw myself as a grown-up, the picture of me going to Washington DC for a conference came to mind. It was the best of what I had pictured myself to be (once I gave up on my dream to be a doctor, which ended promptly in a high school calculus class).

The day Kevin was offered the job, I was with him. We had gone together for his final interview and I waited anxiously in the car. We knew he would get it and we knew we were inclined to accept it. However, once it was in writing, it felt more official. On the drive home we kept repeating, “We’re moving!” as though saying it one more time would make it real.

As I am apt for negativity, the excitement waned quickly for me as I moved on to the slew of details that had to be completed for the move to actually take place. I would spend the next 60 days just doing things, the things that needed to be done. I was shockingly detached from the emotions of the move due to the busyness of our details.

Once we moved and unpacked, it hit. All of the things to be done were done. We had moved, we had made a major change. When I got a call from a friend the other day who had applied for my old job and wanted some pointers, at first I was excited for him. Then, as I began to explain my job and what was necessary for the position, I began to get melancholy. In fact, after the call, I got down right depressed.

My job had been my ideal. I was accepted, I was understood and I was one of the few who had access to the top of the organization. I could speak eloquently on any one of the myriad of issues facing my organization at the drop of a hat. My job was one of my best accomplishments and now, it would be handed to someone else. Someone who may, or may not, treat that accomplishment with care and concern. It was like watching a woman move in on a grieving husband at his wife’s funeral. I was not done with my job, yet life had allowed for it to end.

Yet, with all of this said I know intellectually that the job itself was not mine, it is the company’s. The successes and failures of the job were mine to own and I did for a time. However, with this move and my new employment looming on the horizon, it is time to let go. I can not hover like some ghost over my old accomplishments, I need to prepare myself for the next phase with the same care and concern I gave the last. Somehow though, it still feels like a part of me is dying.

Well, the move is officially under way. My house is an accumulation of boxes and things and dust bunnies. Yesterday we embarked on a real effort to do some major packing and the end result, other than Kevin’s concussion, was pretty meritorious.

However, it wasn’t without drama, i.e. concussion and the mishap in which I broke an entire bottle of red nail polish all over the bathroom floor. Both incidents involved a partial blackout and cuss words. Why did the shelf all of the sudden come loose and land on Kevin’s head? Why did I ever purchase that crazy shade of prostitute red? Either way, a lot got done and we both finally feel like this move is happening.

Maybe, per chance, it is just me but moving seems to bring about a myriad of emotions. Every box that is packed and every cabinet cleaned out is a chance to take stock of what you have and what you’ve accumulated. So far, I’ve learned the following about myself:

1. You want pictures? I got pictures.
2. Shoes? Um, they might need their own U-haul.
3. Measuring cups? Yup, FOUR sets. FOR ALL THE COOKING I DO.
4. I love boxes of half eaten kid’s cereal.
5. I have partially used bottles of lotions, in every scent known to man. Looking for a little (and by little I mean 1/3 of a bottle) Exotic Coconut or Pure Seduction?
6. Books. Boxes upon boxes of books. Then more boxes and more books.
7. Apparently I am an avid collector of mismatched sheets and towels. Bully me.
8. For all of the cleaning I do, I prefer 3 half empty bottles of Windex to one full one.
9. I believe everything I read about anti-aging creams, or at least I must because I have an entire box of them.
10. I think a backyard really isn’t complete unless it is littered with dead plants in pots and weather worn children’s toys.

I am honestly hoping that the move to the Easy Swede will force me to downsize a few of my terrible pack rat habits. I really need to simplify. Some part of me knows however, that no matter how much I throw away, upon our next move I will find the same mix of stuff filling my cabinets and shelves. Some girls never change.

Only two weeks left at my job before the big Move. I am shocked by the speed at which this has gone, yet amazed at how some moments feel like years as they pass. I have been with this employer for 7 long years. To say that I’ve grown up here, professionally speaking, is an understatement.

This move is stretching me in ways I didn’t want to be stretched but it is also giving me a grand sense of freedom. I read once that you should chose where you want to live and then find a job there, instead of finding a job first. I always made the job choice first, until now.

We’ll see if those words I read long ago are words to live by…

The house is officially listed for sale and there are pictures of it online. I am feeling very weird about people being able to check out my house from the privacy of their pc’s. However, I understand that this big thing they call the “internets” is very important to the home sale business so, c’est la vie.

As we start out on this adventure, I will say that I am both excited and extremely apprehensive. I trust that God will show up here and do something that will prove to me –  once again- that my view of the world is skewed and I don’t have the full picture. Only He knows what all will unfold and I am just along for the ride. That is not to say that I am not responsible to put one foot in front of the other each day…

So, join me, if you like, in seeing what unfolds with yet another justanotherjenn saga. Will the house sell? Will they actually move? Will it be to a dump in Marina? Will they buy another dog? (j/k) Will Jenn continue to turn gray at a rapid speed? Does hair color eventually stop working?

All this and more…..stay tuned.