Wednesday, June 02, 2010


Are falling, one by one. I got the call tonight that the place I liked best last weekend has accepted my application, and I'll be meeting the landlord to sign the lease on Sunday.
Google Maps has this nifty application where you first search for a path or a location, and then, if you enter a business type in the search box, it finds all businesses of that type in the zoom-range of the map. I entered the address for my new place and my new job, then searched daycares, and found a list along any number of routes I can take. This Saturday I will be checking them out and finding the appropriate spot for my little princes. Besides my beautiful friends, the boys' daycare will be the hardest thing to leave in Tucson.
Today has been a crappy night, with the Bug acting weird and saying unusual things, the Smacky having a crappy fever, and my stomach in knots worrying about this move. I am excited, thrilled, looking forward to it, and terrified to step out of the cocoon that has been my comfort zone for 10 years. How do you explain to someone who hasn't experienced it, that sometimes you just need to cry out the toxic feelings? And how do you get the tears to come when they've been locked up for so long so they don't freak out your babies? I'd feel much better if I could remember where my copy of Steel Magnolias is.
(Incidentally, this is not me being maudlin or wanting you to comfort me. This is just a straight up report. My emotions have filled me to the brim and they need to spill out my eyes. No worries about me, really.)


I have had this song stuck in my head all day.

And I'm glad the light still hits your face
And I'm glad every time you answer the phone.
For you, life and home have never been an easy place,
But I'm glad to be part of your own.

Sung by John Gorka; I'm sure you've never of him. I'm not entirely sure how *I* got one of his CDs, but I like it. This particular song is for his mother, and it has this air of melancholy about it that strikes me today. Beautiful, content, but a little sad. I think that's where I am today. Content with the choices I'm making, happy to be moving in the direction I've chosen with the people I've chosen, but still, a little sad. A huge chapter in my life is closing soon, and I would be a big ol' liar if I said it didn't sting a bit.
Fortunately I am close to The Fiber Factory so I know Lynn will be visiting...