I've written before about how much I adore impossibly big things.
Cumulo Nimbus. Even the name sounds big.
Giant tires that are used on giant, yellow caterpillar machines.
Tall buildings. Mountains. Oceans. Big.
I've possibly written before about how the pace of my life works. It's in five-sies and seven-sies. Every five years starts a new chapter in the cycle. Starting in highschool, just before graduation, I really started to notice it. Like cicadas, change comes in flocks and flurries and some years, both kinds happen at once. I think this is just a normal five-sie year, but I can't be sure.
Big changes are already taking place. I got a raise! I love my job. I've been at the same job for just over 2 years now. I love my house. I have a great car and live in a soothing, gentle neighborhood with great neighbors and really good looking landscaping.
My beloved husband got his PhD. He is now Doctor Beloved Husband. He's been throwing himself into loads of interviews lately and charming the absolute pants off of everyone. He's going through is course of obligatory rejections and now has some very prosperous potential dangling out there.
We're just waiting for an official offer.
Should that offer come, it could mean we stay put. It could mean we relocate halfway across the country to a state I visited for 4 days in highschool.
That's so damned big I can't even wrap my fluffy little brains around it.
I love it. It terrifies me. I love it because it terrifies me. It's like the hairy red monster in the bugs bunny cartoons that you're supposed to have nightmares about but you can't be bothered because he wears those adorable sneakers. His name is Gossamer, I believe.
The new chapter is unfolding as we speak. Gears are a-turning. Change is coming. As I told my brother earlier today, if I can handle Hungary by my onesie, I can (by the gods) handle this. Gossamer had big horrible claws and snarling growling teeth, but he was just a big fuzzball. I have more than enough tools at my disposal to handle him.
And this time, I don't have to do it alone.
So now you know. This blog will likely convert from a dimly-lit monologue involving goth-kid navel gazing, into a fascinating butterfly of updates and life news and adjustment periods concerning new lifestyles and standard-of-living comparisons.
BUGS! I'll cry. HUMIDITY! I'll moan.
And we'll all move on in our happy little lives, knowing that the universe isn't done with me by a long shot. The gods have far more in store for me than I'm capable of anticipating. Let's all go along for the ride, shall we?
Because this time, I don't have to do it alone.