Freedom to Move

Greetings Kittens,

Here at the close of July I’m still heavily in the theme of freedom. In my case, it’s freedom from the feeling of confinement.

I wrote a few months back about the treachery of one’s own body betraying them. In my case it’s ME/CFIDS & FMS and it put me on medical leave since March. The loss of income resulted in having to move in with friends in April. Fortunately, it had been something we were talking about before I got sick as a way to help us all bounce back from the recession and get a savings going again. Unfortunately, we didn’t get that planned, budgeted move we’d hoped for.

Because of the last minute, unexpected nature of the move, we couldn’t move into the larger space we’d picked out together and had to make due with the apt they already had. For a little perspective, I haven’t had a roommate in almost 15 years, and now we’ve spent the last 3+ months as four adults, two dogs and a cat in 700sq feet.

As often happens, it was one thing after another once we got here. The new place had to be renovated and we were first told it would be ready at the beginning of May, then June, then July and now it’s August and FINALLY we get to move to the 1500sq awaiting us.

To make up for the delay, we were allowed to start moving things in the moment we paid the deposit. Each day of the last ten days has seen the migration of boxes and clothes and things too long in closets. And we actually have a bedroom closet in the new place and don’t have to store everything in the hall closet, so a big step up.  

We also have a real kitchen for the baking I miss so much, and I get my own bathroom again!

It’s the little things.

Speaking of little things. Our “bedroom” was so small that we had to downsize to a full sized bed in order to be able to walk along one wall. Right now I’m waiting for that bed to get picked up and for our queen sized bed to be delivered at the new place. The new room is closer in size to the one we moved from, so my freedom of space will not only be in the entire house, but in those intimate locations where it’s oh so important.

I’m also returning to work, likely part-time as I’m still highly symptomatic, but even that gives us a significant freedom. My sweetie found employment up here about ten days after we moved. This, after three years of struggling post layoff. That alone makes the small digs and expected irritations of living with other people well worth it.

Being a two income couple again, with $200 less in rent and half the bills, opens up so much to us. From the small freedoms of catching a movie when it comes out, or getting a meal out, to the large freedoms of having a savings again and being able to travel across the country to see my family.

Ultimately, the exact things we do aren’t important, it’s having the choice to do them that is everything.

May you all have the best of choices ahead of you.

Ramble Done, Kittens!

Where the heck is my stuff?

Experts say that moving is one of the most stressful events in a person’s life. Anybody who’s ever moved will probably agree with them. My husband and I moved just at a week ago, and I’m certainly stressed out. For one thing, I had no idea we had so much…um…stuff. We only moved about three miles, which you’d think wouldn’t be that bad, but moving is moving, and it was pretty dang stressful.

For some reason, which I’m still not clear about, I was “volunteered” to drive the U-Haul. I think I did pretty well, except for the whole backing over the mailbox thing. But I did manage to get the thing close enough to the porch that it could be unloaded. So there we were, surrounded by boxes, our carefully thought out, organized moving plan gone to hell in a U-Haul.

The next day, I went to a writers group meeting—actually a party for our one year anniversary. Ten minutes before I left, I found my hairbrush—for which my fellow writers are quite grateful. We had a great time, and I went back to my new storage space, I mean home.

At one week, we’re slowly digging out of our box maze. And it does feel like home already. So now my muse—she’s a dragon, by the way—has decided I need to get back to my writing. Now. I tried to argue, saying that I still have a lot of unpacking to do, plus being extremely busy with that whole life thing. She doesn’t care. She started by giving me dreams that were obviously plot or character intensive. A sure sign she means business. I ignored her, and last night I actually dreamed a character, plot, research I should do (and who I should ask for help), and even the opening words of the story. Peachy. Like I don’t have three manuscripts in the works (at different stages) and need to get them done. Why can’t I dream about one of them!

Okay, back to the boxes. Later maybe I can work on one of the manuscripts. Not the new one. Nope. Even if it is haunting me. The heroine is a fascinating person. And the beginning seems quite interesting. I have other things I need to work on. Really. Plus all those boxes.

Excuse me, my muse is calling—and there seems to be smoke coming out of her mouth. Oh boy.

Have a great weekend!

Cheryel
www.cheryelhutton.com

Your Reality's Showing

Reality shows are all the rage. High ratings, small production budgets, the public gets to gawk at other people without repercussions. What’s not to love? Actually a lot, but that’s a different blog. What I want to talk about today is a completely different subject. A subject for a reality show. Picture this: a couple packs up their small apartment to move across town. Boring? Not if each of the two have a wide streak of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Not the level of that other reality show, but enough to make things interesting. Enter my husband and me. Yep, we’re an interesting couple…but that’s another blog too.

Open with the two of us standing over a stack of empty boxes. Long discussions ensue about where to stack the things until we use them to pack. Then there’s the weeklong discussion about in which room to start packing. Do we work together or separately? Then I stand in the extra bedroom that is my office for two days trying to decide where to start. Then there’s the biggest problem of all. I had this bright idea to put different color stickers on the boxes to designate the rooms the stuff inside came from—and presumably go to in the new place. Over the last few days, we’ve talked about the issue. We’ve both spent time staring at the packages of colorful dots. So far, we’ve decided that my husband thinks yellow says kitchen. I say red. But we could go either way.

I think it has potential. Snappy music and silly commentary that makes serious fun of us. It could be a great show. But then, we’d have to allow strangers into our already cramped home to make fun of an already stressful situation. Hmm.

Sorry Hollywood, you’ll have to find other suckers for your pack and move show.

Now if we could just decide what color screams living room. Sigh.

Have a great weekend!

Cheryel
www.cheryelhutton.com

Life and Art and Moving

My computer died, but we'll get to that in a minute. Let's begin with the fact that I'm moving cross-country on just over 30 days notice.

This is both a sudden and inevitable move on my part for which I'm grateful. Our apartment building was foreclosed on and the vultures began circling last year. By the time a rep from the bank came by to speak to the tenants everyone had that sinking feeling. Months had passed since the initial change over and silence is not the strategy of one trying to hold onto to residents. Despite this we were cautiously hopeful when the rep took information and spoke about a lease being brought over in a few weeks. Months later it was clear that wasn't going to happen as whispers of condo conversion began. Still we'd been assured that if the building was sold again, we'd be given 60 to 90 day notice and there would be plenty of time to move and do it right. How fortunate I'm not a trusting person.

My Sweetie and I began saving the moment the rep came to our door and confirmed the foreclosure. Sure enough, two weeks ago we came home to a 30 day "notice to vacate" on our door. The vultures had managed to sell our lot for condos. We didn't even blink. In a beautiful bit of serendipity we'd come to the decision an hour earlier to move to New Mexico if we loved it during our July visit. We've wanted to get out of Wisconsin for years and New Mexico is one of four places I've wanted to explore long term. Add to that eager and insistant friends, and money to make the move, and it all just seemed like the right timing. When we came home and found the notice, it was obvious that the timing was even earlier than we thought. July schmuly, we're going now!

Since neither of us drive, an adventurous road trip was out of the question.We looked into shipping our stuff--laughed when we saw the price--and decided to mail what we're keeping and shed the rest. Our entire life reduced to twenty boxes and two carry-on bags and not a natural disaster in sight. Talk about blessed and frightened all in one. Choosing to let go and leave behind the clutter has been deeply emotional and profoundly liberating. Box after box and item after item slips away and a sense of self opens up as the space around me does the same.

As Zen and spiritual as I am, it was my writer's eye that took it all in and identified my perfect chick-lit moments unfolding before me. The quarter-lifer making a move that in the end profoundly changes her entire being, (only with fewer werewolves and vampires than if I was actually writing it.). But as we all know, chick-lit, even the paranormal kind, is as much tragedy as comedy. Fortunately it tends to be comedic tragedy in the end.

Being the industrious one that I am, when I jumped into this I did it full force and with plans upon plans and research for days. They have a saying about the best laid plans. We packed up the boxes and got the first batch to the post office. Turned out all my research was for naught as we couldn't send the book heavy boxes via media mail. Again, I'm industrious and fed two birds with one handful of seeds by using clothing as packing material to protect the books and cds. And you just can't do that.

Would have been nice to have that prominent on the website, perhaps in large, block, neon letters. Would have also been nice to know they had discontinued the complimentary plain address labels and no longer carried the twenty pack for sale. However none of that would have mattered if I'd known my computer was going to die just as I was about to print out address labels for the boxes. Yeah, a lot it would have been nice to know 48 hrs earlier rather than to learn it all in a 20 minute span.

Standing in the post office after the computer died, writing out mailing labels on lined notebook paper, having just learned my careful budget was shot to hell, I realized it was the part in the movie where it seems our plucky heroine has made a drastic mistake. It helped me to remember that it also meant things would turn out wonderful beyond the plucky heroine's wildest dreams. It cheered me up immensely!

Sometimes we're reluctant to put our main characters through their paces when dealing with our created worlds, but the truth is that life is like that. It's a series of highs and elation and then moments of one thing after another trying to drag us down, with only our inner strength to rely on.

So go ahead and find the comedy and tragedy in the every day moments and let your characters do the same. Live your inspiration and in the midst of the worst remember there's always another act coming after the next commercial break. And in the end we can all have a bit of our HEA.

Ramble Done

~X