Part 4. Part Four?! Movers. Here’s the thing about movers. …Why. Why are they like that. (And oh my goodness, we’re SO CLOSE to the end of this saga! Related: Can you believe that I’m still blogging about this nonsense? You should see me in person. Theoretically, if we were able to have parties, I’d be real real fun at parties.) So. To catch up: Our moving “specialists” were jerks with a phone call returnability record akin to my middle {Read More}
Chicago to the Berkshires, Part 3: We Actually Leave.
July 30, 2020 By 1 Comment
Yes, people, we finally leave Chicago in this latest installment of We Are Never Moving Again. Now, where were we? Ah yes, we were seven hours into what was already promising to be the longest move of our lives. And our movers had brought the not-at-all-agreed-upon truck. And our “moving specialist” had gone radio silent. (Earth silent, really.) And the heart-wrenching day of Meaningful Goodbyes was quickly turning into a fire sale. Because. When the moving broker finally deigned to {Read More}
Chicago to the Berkshires, Part 2: So, moving brokers?
July 23, 2020 By Leave a Comment
OKIE doke. So. Can we talk about moving brokers in this one? Previously, on Chicago to the Berkshires (Part 1), our heroine found herself in a weepy puddle of nostalgia, compounded by a very real timeline of leavin’ town, with a nice dash of “haven’t slept for days n’ days” to really punch up the bawling. I think I did a fairly good job of portraying the feelings and emotions and everything else ramping up to the move…but what of {Read More}
Chicago to the Berkshires, Part 1: Goodbye, first home
July 16, 2020 By 2 Comments
(Today marks three weeks since we arrived at our new home in Massachusetts. More on THAT to come, because hoo boy. But for right now, a surprisingly/not super surprisingly hard one to write. I began this post the week before we moved but had to stop because…I had to stop. Stay tuned. Thanks in advance. Buckle up. Keep hydrating. And, you know, wear a mask.) An open letter to my home: Hey home, I know I’ve said some things in {Read More}
My grief during quarantine: A selfish/justified lament.
April 30, 2020 By Leave a Comment
Grief is weird. I can’t keep a thought in my head. Not for very long, anyhow. It’s like Tron all up in there, with neon thoughts zipping around and pinging off of walls. (Wait, that’s Tron, isn’t it? Or am I thinking of Pong with with the addition of laser sounds?) We should have the kids watch Tron, once I remember what it is. But definitely not Blade Runner– too real. This is my problem. This is one of my {Read More}
Five years later.
March 30, 2020 By Leave a Comment
Hey, Dad. Ready for this? It’s been five years since you left us. FIVE YEARS. I assume that you’re aware of this through the ether- but I’m not exactly sure about how time works where you are. (That said, I’m not exactly sure about how time works where I am. Long story.) Dad, when you died, I thought I was the bravest I had ever been- had ever had to be. Working on your obituary, pulling together your collection of {Read More}
My goal for 2020? To take care of others- and myself
December 10, 2019 By 2 Comments
Exactly one year ago, I weighed 117 pounds. I was in severe pain; my belly, my ribs, my brain. For a month, nothing was “officially” wrong. Blood tests were fine, organ functions were skipping along, and- if you disregarded the fact that I couldn’t eat a thing- my doctors assured me that I was all good. I would wake up in in the middle of the night, weeping, panic gripping my chest, the knowledge that I was actually dying keeping {Read More}
Ten things to know on your tenth birthday, Nora.
October 29, 2019 By Leave a Comment
Dear Nora Jane, I know I usually wax poetic on your birthdays, telling you how much being your Mom has changed me (because it has), and how incredibly wonderful you continue to be (because you do), but today feels a little different. Today you’re ten. Yes, years old. Which means that the wildest adventure I ever began started ten years ago today, which also means that- somehow- you’re no longer the tiny pinched-face potato tied to my chest, and I’m {Read More}
