New Beginnings

Have you heard?
We're moving!
I know. I know.

Here's the short version:
My beloved husband, the doctor (hmmm, that's got a nice ring to it), has applied for and interviewed for and been accepted for something that very closely resembles his dream job.

And it's about 40,000 miles away from where I live now. Not really, it's actually just 200 states away. Well, that's a bit hyperbolic, but it's far. It's way far. I'm going away from my mountains again. I'm going to cross the wide, fertile plains of this great country and keep going East. I'm going to find myself in a vortex of American history, natural wonders, and modern city life. There will be suburbs stretching as far as the eye can see. There will be hills and lakes and humidity and spiders the size of my face.

There will be centuries-old battlegrounds, there will be contemporary hyper-political saber rattling, and there will be lots and lots of traffic.

And me and my beloved husband, and our fluffy wonderpants kitty cat, will pick up and move across the country. He will have his job. I will quit mine and go find something out there.

It will be fine. It will be awesome. We're going to love it.

In the mean time, however, I'm going to panic. I'm going to hyperventillate. I'm going to have wicked nightmares and mood swings and I'm going to become mighty, mighty forgetful.

It will be fine. It will be awesome. We're going to love it.

The big relocation is slated for mid-september. For now. It's all big and fluffy and up in the air and refusing to be tied down.

It's terrifying. I'm utterly, utterly terrified.

It's exhillerating. I'm profoundly, impossibly exhillerated.

And lo. The pendulum swings.

The decision is made. We're moving. If I'm good at anything in this world, it's starting over. So shall it be. So say we all.

Here we go, kids. Let's do this.