I'm Baaaack...

Bet you thought this blog was dead.  Dead, dead, dead.  Not sorry to disappoint, I'm not great about things like this so it's been a bit since I've come to ramble.  Ramble I will.  Let's see... Two years ago my family moved to a new city.  Not far from the city that we'd previously been living in, just a little further down the road by about 15 miles.  We moved into a lovely house that had three bedrooms two bathrooms and a nice yard for the dog and cat.  The landlords left us alone and we generally lived pretty well.  We also became reclusive.  Gardening didn't work there, like it had really worked anywhere else I'd tried it.  I just didn't have the time for all my hobbies.  In fact I don't think I quilted anything in two years either.  We just plain stagnated.  Finally, I was starting to get back into all my interests when the landlord notified us that they were selling our house and we had 60 days to find a new place to live. 

In my area finding a new place to live is like trying to catch greased raccoon's  that have been given adrenaline and are in a cage the size of a football stadium.  So... pretty much impossible without the right sports equipment.  The first few places we found that would work we applied but didn't get.  The next three we applied to and were told that they went with someone else.  Finally, we ended up moving into an apartment.  A few friends came to help us out, but not many.  I guess they had their own lives which is to be expected.  Also, there is that little issue of us moving a lot and people being tired of moving us every few years.  

So today I rant.  Moving is hard, it's damn difficult.  You find out who your friends are and who your friends aren't.  In this case, my friends were those few individuals that really helped and shone.  Like my brother Jayson.  He has a bum leg but he helped me all week to get things moved, cleaned etc.  He never complained except an occasional "aw hell" when he'd realize that we weren't as far ahead as we thought we were.  But overall he persevered through everything that got thrown at him.  My friend Lisa who came out and stayed with us and helped me move on her holiday.  Our friends M & K who were there loudly feeding us and doing the heavy lifting.  Even my husband was there. 

Which leads me to my next point, my husband.  The man that I married, the one and only best thing in my life no matter what husband.  Who goes absolutely mental every time we move.  Seriously, I think he might have a pathological issue with moving.  I try to take things to goodwill and he gets twitchy, moving makes him an outstanding jerk.  SO... I get to be the levelheaded one.  Meaning that all my inner turmoil about being sick to my stomach about moving gets to stay inside and away from public viewing.  This will be the absolute last move we make until we buy.  We will live in an apartment, learn how to live with each other and generally get our lives in order.  

Or so I keep telling myself.  Honestly?  I feel like hiding in my over sized closet and never coming out.  I don't want to finish the unpacking.  I don't want to deal with the angry words, or the misconstrued notions of my mood.  I don't want a bitchy child, a sullen child and an angry husband.  I simply want to be free from it all and not in the suicidal or homicidal kind of way, but more in the peacefully blissfully moving along my way kind of way.  Hopefully we'll get to that part of the program soon.  

I know this move needs to be good for us, hopefully it is, we will just have to see.