I'm not sure anyone is following this news with bated breath, but last night we moved into our new home.
Not completely, mind you. Because a complete move would be so common, so banal, so humdrum.
No, when it comes to moving, we prefer to think outside the box. Or is it inside the box? Whatever is completely opposite to the way most people do it--that's us.
At the moment we are inhabiting the upstairs quarter of this establishment. It's more fun this way, it builds suspense, it draws out the excitement of a full and complete takeover.
And I really do mean it's fun. At least, it's fun when everyone's in the mood to consider it fun. Teenagers who can't locate flat irons are not super fun. Neither are sisters who accuse one another of stealing bedding. Mothers who have zero patience for such gratuituous derailments are possibly the least fun of all.
But I am telling you, this is a once in a lifetime adventure: we are camped in the midst of a fortress of boxes like kids with a secret hideaway, like a perpetual pajama party, like a treasure hunt wherein every discovery is something good and useful, though perhaps not exactly what you were hoping to find.
If you want to come over, you can. Just bring jammies and a flashlight.
Downstairs it's still something of a construction zone. Workers come and go. Saws whine. Nail guns punch and hiss. Izzy's violin soars through it all. It's a particular atmosphere that has perpetuated itself long enough to evince its own brand of coziness.
Not surprisingly, life goes on. Sophie's team won all their games at a tournament in Arizona over the weekend. It was pretty exciting stuff.
The suspense was made bearable only by the world's largest wad of bubblegum.
And an early morning run.
There is something about going for a run in a new place, about one's feet touching ground for the very first time. It's an original piece of the planet. It's discovery on a personal level. Do I overthink things? Maybe. Probably. But running somewhere new fills my heart with the spirit of the frontier.
Running is, for me, a way to maintain continuity through change.
So is writing.
Sometimes I sit down to write even when I have nothing compelling to say, simply because I long for the beautiful logic of words, for the way I can hold them up and watch them catch the light, for their rhythm and cadence which soothe my cluttered mind.
Thank you for taking a moment to visit me here, for the kind and encouraging comments you share. I always appreciate them, I am always touched and amused by them, but lately they've held an extra degree of clarity for me. Lately they've helped things seem a little more in balance.