Goodbye/Hello

In the spring of 1990, my dad and I drove from Longview to Shreveport to shop for a car. We'd looked at Subarus and Nissans, but what I REALLY wanted was a Mitsubishi Galant. The car I'd been driving since I'd gotten my driver's license had been purchased, barely used. It was a 1984 Buick Skyhawk, and I loved it to death. But I'd put a ton of miles on it driving around endlessly in high school for lack of anything better to do and then, when I'd started college, making the frequent 500+ mile round trip to and from Austin. It was time to trade her in.

My dad, not known for his soft-and-fuzzy qualities nor his love of salesmen, made me cringe throughout the negotiation process with the dealer. I'd never been a part of anything quite like the car buying process, and the whole thing just made me want to crawl under the floor. We got practically nothing for my road-weary coupe with more than 100-thousand miles on it, but when it was all said and done, we drove off the lot in a brand new, badassed 1990 Mitsubishi Galant LS, with cruise control, a sunroof, and--most important to me at the time--a bitchin' stereo system. I was in heaven.

But as we pulled away from the dealership, I saw my little Skyhawk, sitting there looking kind of...I don't know...saddish, and it made me feel like I was leaving an old, fun and reliable friend behind for the exciting new friend who'd just moved to town and had nicer clothes and better hair. I was flooded with memories of all the fun that my friends and me had in that little white coupe, despite its complete absence of any bells and/or whistles. And yes, I started to cry a bit until we got on the highway and my dad urged me to, "Punch it" so we could see what kind of pick up the new car really had.

Tonight will be the last night I spend in this house. My starter home. The place where I've lived while so many things--good, great, and lousy--have happened along the way. The place that I bought all by myself as a single mother, even though the concept of being a homeowner and understanding terms like "escrow" and "homestead exemption" were terrifying to me. The place where I have watch The Geej graduate from a crib to a toddler bed to her current big-girl bed. The place where I threw a surprise 60th birthday party for my mom and hosted Thanksgiving dinners for friends and family. The place where I first got to play Santa and the Tooth Fairy. The place I was living when BH and I reconnected, fell in love and got married. The place where we blended our families and our lives but that always felt more like "my" house than "our" house.

We are moving to a nicer, more family-friendly neighborhood with better schools and neighborhood "amenities." A place where we'll watch our kids grow in to teenagers and eventually leave the nest. A place that is finally and truly ours together. It's something we're all psyched about and have been focused on making happen for some time now. But there's still that weird feeling of leaving behind something that you've loved for years for this newer, sexier opportunity. Although I completely understand that buying our current house when I did and for what I paid for it, and then caring for it like BH and I have for the past (nearly) seven years is what has put us in a position to make this move, it still feels vaguely disloyal to leave this place behind. The (single) guy who is buying this house seemed really nice and genuinely excited about this place when we met him at the closing. He's currently living in a nearby apartment, and so this will be his starter home too. I'm happy for him and hope he takes good care of it and creates a thousand happy memories here.

Where the HELL have I been?

Good question.

Well, let me catch you up with a brief photo essay of the trip from northeastern Colorado to central Texas in a U-Haul containing all of Mr. Wonderful's worldly possessions--including his dog and gecko--and yours truly.

And here we go. Setting off on our lengthy adventure. Dog in the middle, the plains on either side.

Here's what we saw in Colorado:

Pretty, no? The rat on the dash (his name is Timmy) will have to be explained in a future post.

Dog is my copilot.

Here's what we saw in southwestern Nebraska:Breathaking.

Here's what we saw in Kansas:

Stunning.

And this: Wait. Can't see that? Here, let me zoom in for you:

No, we didn't actually get to see the Largest Prairie Dog in the World. Or the Live 6 Legged Cow. Maybe next time...

SUCH a good girl:

Kansas sunset at 65 mph:

Sunset on Mr. Wonderful:

Dog is my very sleepy copilot:

We rolled in to Norman, OK at around 10:15 pm, exhausted and hallucinating. We spent the night with the dear Jules, and then were on our way the next morning, after she made us a breakfast of Texas-shaped waffles.

Later that day--southern Oklahoma:
OMG Hills!! And trees!!


And finally:

We pulled into our driveway around 6pm on Saturday evening. Spent all Sunday unloading the U-Haul and organizing and reorganizing stuff.

To be perfectly honest, the move went very smoothly. We had great weather, no mechanical problems, a well-behaved canine companion, ran into zero traffic jams, dealt with very little road construction, saw only a couple of highway patrol (and that wasn't really until we got to Texas), only saw one wreck (and it was on the opposite side of the highway), and got along famously. Now we're just adjusting to the whole "Holy CRAP! You're really here!" thing.

The Geej is loving having Mr. Wonderful (and the dog and the gecko) here with us. She's been bossing everyone around like a crazy person, and is just pleased as punch with the whole situation.

I wish I could say the same about Earl. He's rather pissed, and that's all I'm going to say for now. I'm mad at him for some destructive stuff he decided to do, and let me just say, he's lucky to still have a place to call home. Hopefully, this is just a phase.

Mr. W. starts his new job on Monday, but for now, he's spending the days doing all that crap you have to do when you move someplace new. Also, he's being a dear about the fact that I'm crazed at work right now and am heading to Nashville for a work trip on Friday. "Hi, honey! Thanks for moving here! Bye! Have fun taking care of the kid!" God, what a jerk I am.

I'm also busy getting ready for this. Good god, y'all. As if weren't satisfied displaying my pathetic existence on the interweb, now I get to do it in front of a live audience. What is WRONG with me?! (That's rhetorical. Don't bother answering.)