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moving to italy

Moving to Italy

What I Wore Sunday

December 3, 2012

Linking up with Fine Linen and Purple again, even though Mass was an abysmal C- for one naughty 2 year old, and I didn’t actually get photographed in my church clothes.

Moving on. All fancy photos courtesy of my handsome husband who encouraged me to frolic on the front lawn while our mysterious neighbor’s roommate’s wife (does that make sense? Me neither.) smoked sullenly against the side of her Chevy Fiesta and eyed our crazy up and down.

Casual hair tuck.
over-the-shoulder-squint
Not a Honda commercial. (Okay, maybe a little bit. 2003 Honda Accord LX, anyone? Our buyer fell through today.)

The decidedly-casual-not-for-Mass outfit details:
Top: Old Navy (thrifted)
Necklace: Target
Jeans: Express. Full price. Because of this.
Shoes: Blowfish (thrifted)
Tank: Kirkland’s Best (because I’m worth it.)

Onward and upward to Advent.

I’ll be off facebook, instacrack and all other non-work related forms of social media for the ‘little Lent’ of Advent, and boy oh boy do I need it. I have been a festering ball of stress and emotional instability all week long, culminating in a voluntary 4 am wake-up yesterday in anticipation of our somewhat underwhelming ‘indoor garage sale,’ in which we sold approximately 1/3 of our earthly possessions, which is 2/3 less than we needed to.

Trying so hard not to freak out every hour, on the hour, about what needs to get done, and instead focus on what is being done for us, i.e. by God, Who is actually in control of this and all situations.

Also trying verrrrry hard not to think about the 2/3 of a pack of Camel Lights resting somewhere in the bottom of my trash can. Stress habit or not, it was becoming something of a hindrance to my mile time and to my ability to smell not awful when Dave gets home from work.

Moving to Italy, Parenting

The Best Laid Plans…

November 29, 2012

…Are often laid to waste by croupy babies, shrieking toddlers, and a house so filthy it can barely be recognized as ‘indoors’ as opposed to, I don’t know, the back alley behind a dry cleaner’s and a deli.

source

There are boxes of c-r-a-p everywhere. Someone came by and bought all our dressers on Monday night, so there are piles of clothes all over the place, too. I meant to do something about it during naptime yesterday, but instead I crouched in my disheveled bed amidst a pile of (clean? dirty?) laundry and watched the latest episode of Parenthood.

And it was good. Dammit, Grace, it was good. You were spot on. And I don’t have time for that right now. 

I have like a million billion pages of lists for world domination that are scattered about the shanty, but most days all I manage to do is keep the children alive, (yesterday, just barely though. Never, ever take a toddler to have their blood drawn. Insist upon leeches or some other more civilized means of extraction.) get dinner made ordered, and whale around on the treadmill or rowing machine while I sweat bullets over the looming specter of no gym (read: no kid’s club.)

We need visas. We need a plane ticket for my little sister, aka our temporary nanny for the first two months. We need longer term housing in Rome. We need like, 7 large suitcases and many, many more Tide To Go pens to fill them with. We need 6 months worth of prescriptions, another suit for Dave, piles of linens and towels to be vacuum sealed and magically shrunken down for easy transport. We need to sell the entire rest of our house and then, somehow, still live in it for another 5 weeks.

And my in-laws are coming for Christmas. And bringing the college kids. Indoor family camping trip, anyone?

I know this sounds like the worst kind of entitled whining, and I don’t mean for it to. I am just fricking freaking out a teeny bit, and wondering how this is all going to come together. Plus, I normally garner a lot of peace and confidence from having an orderly, comfortable home to dwell in. When the outside of my world looks like chaos, the inside feels about the same.

So I guess the lesson in all this is, drink more wine, watch more reality tv, spend more time in prayer. Because while I feel completely out of control these days, the only thing that has really changed is the illusion of control. I no longer gotz it.

Game on, Advent. We’re ready for you.

And as an added bonus, this year we will be celebrating Christmas in an actual stable.

Moving to Italy

Packing, Selling, Shopping, and Smoking

November 22, 2012

Oh. So much to do.

And yet…I’ve been spending hours just reading blogs, obsessively cleaning the bathroom (a losing battle with a potty-training male), wandering out back to smoke furtive Camel Lights during naptime (judging me yet?), and staring vacantly at my rapidly emptying house, rendered increasingly barren by the generous shopping habits of friends and acquaintances. Did you know you can sell pretty much anything on Facebook? Apparently.

I can’t believe we’re doing this. And yet, if feels so much like a direct invitation from the Lord, that we barely hesitated to give our affirmative answer.

Which was comforting when I was wiring $400 via Paypal to an old man named Giuseppe over lunch today, crossing my fingers that 33 days in an internet vacation rental would be sufficient time to find a ‘real’ apartment when we get there in January.

So here we sit, 1 day till Thanksgiving, 30 days till my 30th birthday, 34 days until Christmas, and 42 days until we leave the country…for good. For a while, at least. Oh, it’s also our 3rd wedding anniversary. Today. I should totally cook dinner tonight to commemorate it.

Pardon me, I have to step outside for a moment. Ahem.

Did I mention that it is 67 degrees here in Denver on this Thanksgiving Eve? And that ‘Thanksgiving Eve’ is now apparently a thing? And that Costco was off the hizzy this morning and people already had that crazed, ‘gotta snap up that last faux-cashmere bathmat’ gleam in their eyes while wielding their semi-carts?

Cray-to-the-zay.

I should also mention that I saw an Obama logo on a car today – no words, just the weird sun rising symbol thing – and thought to myself ‘that looks like the Eye of Sauron.’ Then I called my sister to tell her about it, and she said ‘are you going to write a blog post about it?’

Maaaaaybe.

Or maybe not. Sorry for the hot mess that this is. You should see my kitchen right now. You should see my stretched out, stained and ill-fitting maternity spanx-y cami right now. You should see the new James Bond movie this weekend, I’ve heard. You should send a babysitter over our way so I can see it, too.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to be cheersing it up in about 9 minutes, when it will officially be 5’clock on the East Coast. Anyone care to join me for a virtual IPA and a beleaguered sigh over long-fought naptime battles?

I’ll be back tomorrow with fewer words, more pictures, and lots of thrift store treasures on dem hips so Grace can see me in big girl clothes for the festive occasion. You’re welcome, in advance.

Cheers!