For those of you who check my blog posts every other Monday, I have to apologize. We are moving from our tiny seaside town to a mountain city in seven weeks. Exactly seven weeks. First I was dealing with the sale of my house to my tenants which in some ways made it easier – no advertising, people marching through, or open houses – and in other ways not so – reaching agreement about what they wanted to keep of the items I would have no room for in the new house, etc. That took over a month and will be complete, loan approved for them, by July 8. Fortunately I had planned a trip to the mountain town where my daughters live – just a visit mind you. Instead, I ended up buying a house. One of my girls is a realtor, which made it way easier, aside from the shock of making such a quick decision. The house is at the end of a cul de sac, only one other house close to ours, but it is in a development, a possibility I swore I would never even entertain. Since I couldn’t afford to live in the place any other way because it is one of the fasted growing cities in the west, I am trying to make peace with that part of the move. ‘ I am trying’ are the operative words, and therein lies the overwhelm. So much change. So much to accept. So much to give up. I am sitting at my desk surrounded by a huge pile of ‘stuff’ to throw away, a smaller pile of ‘stuff’ beside it for our garage sale. A whole day for that, with additional piles in every other room. I keep telling myself this will get easier, but it sure doesn’t feel that way. I had a dream last night that we were in our new kitchen, which hasn’t even been built yet, trying to figure out where to put the silverware. None of the drawers were deep enough for he holders I had packed and moved. Ridiculous, right? Right. But I still couldn’t fall back asleep. I will keep you posted, but probably won’t write this blog every other week, and may no write again until the end of August, when we will be moved and in place. Sigh. Au revoir for now.