floating, a little uncomfortably

So hey. I'm feeling a little ... lost. Oh, I know where I am. I'm currently in Utah. Orem, to be exact. At my parents. Actually we've rented a house down the way, to sleep in, which is good, because there are wedding plans and a missionary just having come home all over this house. It gives us a place to sleep without feeling claustrophobic. And other things to worry about. But actually that is another post for another day. Forget the wide, wide streets and shopping aisles of the wild west. Where I currently feel out of sync is on the www.

I've been disconnected for a few days and so I'm behind on all of my favorite blogs, but all the sites I've bookmarked for easy access are somewhere in Kansas or Nebraska or who knows where. And then they get sent to a storage unit anyway. It's weird to navigate all my happy haunts with an unfamiliar computer. The actual environment is pretty familiar, it being my family home, and yet (another post) with all the insurance adjusters hopping around knocking down sheet rock full of mold spoors due to a leak in a kitchen pipe, things just feel out of balance. But maybe that's because the countdown to the wedding is in less than a week? Hmmm.

Can you say chaos? How about crazy? How about if we all survive the next little while things will be in good shape. Except, we hope, for the mold.

almost here

We've packed up our wedding, the births of each of our children, the day to day mundane of our lives. I am trying to avoid heart failure at the thought of being parted from all photographs, mini DV tapes, and journals. I don't know that I am doing a very good job.

I have tried to put it in perspective. I've been telling myself "it's much more important that I have the actual child by my side. Losing the photo album really isn't that big of a deal in the scheme of things..." Except that generally the pictures are frozen in cuteness and the child most likely is not, so you can understand the temptation to do a little switcheroo: the kid in the boxes, the family home movies on the plane next to me. Kidding, kidding.

We might FedEx some of the really important mementos. But I haven't felt any better about that. My mind keeps coming up with scenarios in which the movers, the mailers, and the flyers all let me down. It's like I am in some game show and I have to choose a door and inevitably I will make the wrong choice! Sorry about that, door number 1 contained a room of fire! Your possessions are destroyed! You should have picked number 2 or 3.

But really. There is only so much room in my suitcase.

But it is a little unnerving to pack up all my little relationships into reused moving boxes; to send all my Jane Austens into storage for awhile. Oh my lovely Jane, will I ever see you again? And W.S. Merwin? And Ray? Yes, you, too, Ray Bradbury. Then of course my life soundtrack: So long, Sting. See ya Simon. Say hey to Garfunkel. Hey there Beach Boys, hunker down for the ride. Mozart, keep up with that Symphony #40. It's a good one. Pots and pans and stuff, not so much sentimentality. I try not to think about the furniture. Plus, it's insured.

I have yet to say goodbye to Jed Bartlett and crew. You know, you need someone to hang out with when you're so tired of packing and the baby just wants to eat every 15 minutes (Camille has decided that only cat naps are approved during the day time. What is that???). But the time is close at hand my friends. Time to pack up the White House. (Hear, hear! the democrats shout; NY is full of dems, of course. Sorry guys, I'm talking about a fictional WH, not the real thing...maybe in a few more years for you guys).

I know. Enough all ready with the moving posts. But this is it, I promise. The thing is, it turns out, moving is much more life consuming that even pregnancy. It's almost all I think about and it is all I do. But I am here to say farewell from my little blogging corner in Westchester, New York. (Sniff! This is where it all began...) I'm sure there will be plenty of blog fodder in Utah, but there won't be quite the same kind of fodder.

To all you dear ones staying in New York, I'll miss you. To all you dear ones who show up here at Bells, see you on the flip side.

flying with Archie

The past few Sundays at church have been great fun and quite amusing. And not just because, for Ben and I, the extent of our spiritual feast has been time spent in the foyer with our two babes, too young for the nursery, and too loud for Sunday School. Everyone has been great about offering and following through on helping us get ready for the move, including getting us to the airport without having to employ the use of a double-decker cab. It's been really nice.

A couple weeks ago while hanging out in the foyer at church almost every time we turned around we had someone inquiring, double-checking, and assuring that we did indeed have a ride to the airport, even if it wasn't clear to us (or them for that matter) who was driving us and whose vehicle they would be using. But this past Sunday it all became clear. We're on the same flight as a dog named Archie, and we're hitching a ride with him in his van.

There is another family moving out to Utah in the next week as well and for some reason their dog is traveling ahead of them. He's going solo. We leave at the same time, have the same destination and the same airline. I didn't know this airline had live animals as cargo and I never thought I'd fly with a dog, but whatever works!

Anyway, this family has a seven passenger van, so the dog's owner, Archie (the dog), Ben, me, and our four children will be heading out for the airport at 4:30 a.m. Saturday morning. Hooray for Archie. We have a ride to La Guardia with little trouble to anyone.

We will not worry about the fact that my kids get a little skittish around dogs. We will not wonder if Archie will get a little skittish about sharing his van with 6 strangers. We'll just assume that all company will be enjoyed from here all the way to Salt Lake City. Thanks, Archie!