Wavin' It All Good-bye

Born in California, adopted in Wyoming, returned to California where I've spent all my life except for a year in Iran and odd bits of time on the road, it's time to leave this state. The move date is August 11. I just can't get my head around it. I'm going to miss our little bungalow like crazy. There's a weird urgency inside my head. Am I certifiable or what? But the teabag tag said, "An adventure will change your life."

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

Sixteen days left until escrow closes and we must be gone, outa here for good, bye bye now. Tent for termites & fumigation, signing title papers, plumbing and roof repairs. Doo dah.

I don't have a mother, sister, aunt, cousin, or other relative to help me, guide me with advice. Times like these I really feel the lack of roots. My only rule of thumb is: If it hasn't been used in a year, it gets donated or tossed. If anyone has any better advice, I'll read it with gratitude. Trying to co-ordinate everything, make all the reservations, shut off utilities, close accounts, check paperwork, find non-existent boxes. Around here supermarkets smash all their boxes, bind them, and pay to have them hauled away. Used to be you could scavenge enough to fill your car with boxes. Not any more. Sign of the times.

Ch-ch-ch-check lists...

Books, clothes, dishes, cookware, books, journals, tools, books, sewing machine, typewriter, laptop, books, bed, did I say books? soapmaking materials, garden goods, bicycle, bathroom doo dads and those pesky odds and ends you don't want to take but you can't leave behind, books, and dog. Where's the dog gonna ride? Yikes. Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer barely kep' his family fed...

Shove it all somehow into a 12-foot U-Haul hooked to the Ford 150 diesel pick-up. Up Highway 5, pushing north through the oven of the central valley in August heat without air conditioning (uses too much fuel). As of this morning 104 people have died from two weeks of 100-plus temperatures in the state. The sun is hotter now, five minutes in the sun gets you a burn if you're fair skinned. Your body absorbs the heat so quickly. No one around here has ever had air conditioners. Ever. Now you stand in a store and within half an hour your legs are dripping with sweat. The humidity, the lack of breeze, is sweltering.

Posts here and visits to other blogs may be sporadic for the short term. N will be moving ahead of us, taking this desktop with her on Aug. 3, with her boyfriend. May not see a keyboard for awhile after that unless I unpack the laptop. K got back safely from Guatemala. I know how to spell relief.

Here is an album of quick photos I took to remember what it looked like in the midst of moving out of our beloved house:


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