Well, Hello there! I have missed you. Now is not the most opportune time to begin blogging again but I have the need. Mine has been a crazy life for the past year or so and it isn't likely to calm down anytime soon. Writing, however, is cathartic. And I need something, anything to clear my head space.
So, here I am.
There is so much I want to tell you. So many opinions to share, good and bad ones. So many stories. I've bottled it all up just for you. But there is no time. None. And I'll tell you why.
Right now there are boxes piled around me. My belongings, hastily wrapped by two young men with no affection whatsoever. A military move feels like that. Strangers come in and wrap everything in paper and pack it in boxes. Everything. If you aren't careful, the overly-efficient (or unbelievably careless, you decide) movers will wrap your Fisher Price people. Or pack your garbage. In the can. I made sure my garbage was safely out of reach before they could get their hands on it. They've quit for the day, in fact, the two young men were here for a whopping two and a half hours before they bailed. To be fair, today is only the pre-pack. Non-essentials. Tomorrow there will be more packers and they'll mean business, anything not tied down will be fair game. I've put the things we need to take with us in the dining room in an obvious "not for packing" pile. I've stuck post-its on the things that stay with the house. The kids have been warned to stay out of arms reach and the animals are going to the kennel.
The Sprites are moving!
At the behest of the Canadian Military we are moving to a very North, semi-isolated posting, farther west than I have ever been. We are soon (so very soon) to become residents of the rodeo-ing, cowboy hat wearing, line dancing province of Alberta. Obviously, my knowledge of Alberta is lacking. I'm sure there's more to the province than cattle ranches. I'll let you know when we get there.
Our new house in Alberta is not as big as this one. Real estate is ridiculously expensive there so we've opted for military housing for a year or so. In an effort to make this house fit into that one (we've lost a garage and a couple hundred feet of living space), I have been throwing things out left and right. "I haven't seen that in months! What in the hell do I need it for? Filed under 'G'." And into the trash it goes. While cleaning out the bathroom my husband primarily uses, I came across a number of things that caused me to ask "What in the hell does he need that for?". Namely? 4 different electric razors. Knowing him as I do and being a good little wife, I didn't dare throw anything out without discussing it with him first. So I called him in. One razor is brand new, a no brainer, so I didn't bother with that one. But the other 3 baffled me. Especially because I know he just bought one, so why have the others still. Well, one he will use when he travels. Ugh! But okay. One is busted. Alright, this is better, let's chuck it. The last one? The last one doesn't work here, in Canada, but works really well overseas. He's keeping it just in case he goes overseas. I'm trying to be fair so I should tell you that, as a military member is isn't impossible for him to travel overseas. But because he's a Sergeant and mostly sits at a desk now he is unlikely to travel. Let alone overseas*. But God Forbid he should find himself in a foreign hotel with a mediocre razor. Or on native soil but away from home with the same razor he would use at home**. For shame! How dare I even suggest such a thing?
Alright-y folks, duty calls. I have still more things to prepare before the packers get their paws on them. Wish me luck! Did I mention we're driving? Oh no? Oh yes! Five thousand kilometers, 10 days, in my tiny car and his jalopy. With two kids. You are envious, no?
* And now, he will be deployed to the other side of the planet for ridiculous length of time.
**Do you think his 3 razors are sufficient evidence of his excess when I buy another pair of shoes?
