Tag Archives: Moving

When to stay and when to go.

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Fear of Moving or Changing

I’ve always wanted to live somewhere else. Anywhere else. When I was younger I was so envious of my cousins that got to live on farms in Iowa – they had farm cats (and kittens!), they had family nearby to spend time with, they were each others best friend.  It was so foreign to what I was used to that it seemed so much better than what I had. After visiting San Francisco in high school I just *knew* that was were I should end up – access to great seafood (and food in general), the Ghiradelli factory, an ocean nearby and the big city life all called out to me. During my study abroad in college I felt at home in Europe, it didn’t matter where – everything was so glamorous, foreign and the accents sold me immediately. I would have sold an organ if it meant knowing I could call Paris, Madrid, Amsterdam…. my home.  (c’mon ladies, am I right on the accent thing?)

After graduation I had friends stay in Fort Collins/Denver, move to the mountains a few hours away, move to Texas, move to Philadelphia – most of them left the familiar. Part of me always felt like I was missing out on not moving, on staying just where I had always been. How could I consider myself a real grownup if I lived 15 minutes from the home I grew up in? What experiences was I missing? It’s something that both haunts and compels me. What are the merits to living near family? What are the merits of branching out on your own.

I day-dream about strapping on a back pack and just going to Italy with a one way ticket. I fantasize about spending a year volunteering in Africa. I crave  exploring a new city and making it my own.

On the other side of the coin…

I love that my mom is only 10 minutes away. I feel incredibly lucky to see both sides of our family (both mine and Christian’s) in some capacity each week. It’s wonderful to know that if I have a desperate need, that there will be someone there for me. Life is sometimes harsh and sometimes short. Do we, in the end, regret the adventure or regret the time spent with the ones we love. If only the answer was clear.

Frankly, I don’t know where to draw the line. The grass is always greener on the other side (or is it where you water it?). I feel inexplicably torn between finding and building the life I’ve always dreamed of and holding on to the treasured one I have. Most of the time its hard to tell where the dream starts and the need begins, just as its hard to know what at my core I really desire when both push so hard at my seams.

How do you know? Do you wait for the big “aha” moment? The irony of all the wishing for family close by and now, in part, wishing for a far off adventure is not lost on me.  One of my aspirations for this year is to live my life with a little more intention. Do I just live, intentionally, in the moment or is this the year to push, intentionally, for change?

Moving Season

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Moving Season

Moving Season

Once again, it’s moving season here in the Megan and Meghan household. You ask “What is this talk of moving season?”. Well I am here to fill you in on the wonders and joys of moving season.

Moving season is like being pregnant with out the morning sickness and birth of a jam handed, sticky child nine months later. You can eat what you want, when you want because after all god forbid we waste food. At the same time eating out everyday is equally acceptable as you don’t want to dirty the dishes you already packed or exert any additional energy planning a meal.

In our house moving season also consists of burning a new CD featuring the likes of Kelly Pickler, Miley Cyrus, Madonna and other artists that allow us to sing out our frustration at the fact that the hand blender just *won’t* fit into that box. We also take advantage of the ability to drink. Wine, blended beverages, bloody mary’s, mojitos etc. Similar to food we just can’t let good alcohol go to waste… we would have to do some serious repentance if we did that. Maybe I could hit up the confessional for that one… then again maybe not.

So if you’re having a dull day or are in need of some strategically placed frustration head on over. We’ll feed you creamed corn, Lima beans, and a half a trout (that’s really all we have left), while making you a mojito with brandy (well after all we drank the rum already, geez you have high expectations).

Busy, busy busy.

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The next few weeks are probably going to kill me, just kill me dead. Ok, ok I’m exaggerating, but nonetheless they are going to be one crazy, hectic mess. I’m getting ready to move (see Housing Gods) to Denver, trying to prepare for family and friends to come into town for my sister’s graduation party, plan to make about 6 million cupcakes and dinner at least one night. I’m about 98.45% sure that I’ll end up at the party in desperate need of a shower with CRAZY hair and a frosting mustache, but I mean I’ll need a snack for later right?

So I’ll stop going on and on about the details of my week… though let me just tell you today started with a painful bang. It was one of those bad days for the books. Good thing I’ve got my newest discovery on hand to cheer me right up… Portable Applesauce

I found this little wonder in our new Whole Foods (there’s a whole different post for that one). Portable applesauce? Why didn’t I think of that? You can drop this little guy in your back pocket, your purse, stick it in the glove box or under you pillow at night for a snack. We all know I love a good snack, so why not?

The Housing Gods.

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I’m not sure why the housing gods hate me, but they really, REALLY do. I’m moving at the end of July… and that will be my fourth official move in a little over a year. Think about it. Pack the box, load the box, unload the box, move the box into the new house, unpack the box, store box for next move (times 50 + furniture).

Can’t wait for the packing to begin. My roommate and I have decided that packing/moving time also equal boozing time. As this is our third move together we have become somewhat expert movers… and consequently boozers. What isn’t more fun than shoving all your crap into a box for the thousandth time and drinking 8 Bloody Mary’s in an afternoon? You tell me. I’ve got nothing.

Plus, poor Charles DOES NOT handle moving well. As far as I can understand (or blindly guess) he believes I’m packing and leaving him to be a stray dog forced to fend for himself against to intensely fierce coyote population of Colorado. To say the least, it is a traumatizing time for him… and for all that suffer through his bi-polar mood swings.