And We're Off

Monday - The alarm buzzes at 4 in the morning. I am up like bolt of lightening preparing for the day ahead. I've been awake for the last few hours anyway watching the time creep by and snuggling with my dogs. Normally they sleep in their kennel but as this is going to be the last time I get to see them for several months I decided to make an exception. I quickly shut off the alarm so as not to disturb my sleeping babies and ease out of bed. It's too early to care much about appearance and aside from that I am going to be spending the next two days in the car with the Ex-Boyfriend who - even though we split up weeks ago - was man enough to still agree to make the trip with me. Before I hop in the rental I make sure that I have the things I didn't want to leave in the car overnight.


Overnight Bag? Check.
Laptop? Check.
Jewelry Box? Check.
Purse? Check.
Box Containing 5 Bottles of Wine? CHECK!

Okay. I'm ready. I can do this. One foot in front of the other. Right? After a few last tender moments of ear scratching for my babies it's time to leave. My parents are awake to see me off and as we exchange our good-byes I find myself tearing up. I might have been fine if my dad hadn't cried. But he did, so I did, then my mom did and the living room has suddenly become the site of Sobfest 2007. Eventually I am able to extract myself from my mother's embrace and get into the car. Here we go............

ExB is waiting for me when I get there to pick him up. He takes one look at me and decides to take the first shift driving. I don't see well at night anyway, but pair that with being blinded by tears and I am an accident waiting to happen. It's hard at first to leave this place where I grew up, but the further away I get the easier it is to breathe. A little distance is all I need - it's why I chose to leave in the first place.

Tuesday - Day two.....we're off! We made excellent time Monday so we were able to sleep in and take our time the second day. Not only that, but ExB and I are getting along famously. As much as I was dreading driving across the country with him it turns out to be a really good thing. It's amazing what kind of issues you can work through when you are stuck in a car together for 12 hours with nothing else to do but talk. I'm feeling good - the relationship is being repaired, the weather is outstanding, we haven't hit any major construction.............and then we hit the city. Oops! Wrong exit and we are lost in the middle of D.C. during rush hour. I, of course, think it's an adventure but ExB looks sick to his stomach and because I know him so well, I know he is trying his hardest not to hyperventilate. Two hours later we finally reach our destination. At least he got to see the monuments at night.

It's later, after a few tequila shots and a pineapple pizza, that I take a look around at my boxes and bags piled haphazardly in every open space that it hits me.........this is for real. It's no longer just talk between friends. This is for good. Tomorrow ExB is going back to Minnesota and I am not. I admit to myself that I am more frightened that I had been letting on. D.C. is so far out of my comfort zone it's not even on the radar. I can feel ExB watching me and I know he knows I am starting to lose it. A split second later he's beside me and two minutes after that he has managed to talk me down. I'll give the guy some serious points - he could hate me......he has every reason to. But instead, he chooses to spend 48 hours trapped in a rented SUV filled so full that the seats can't even recline and then he offers me a shoulder when I need it. Somebody remind me why I couldn't commit because if he is not the perfect man than the perfect man does not exist.

I cried again today when he left. I cried so much my eyes hurt, my throat burned and I almost went through an entire box of Kleenex. I would like to say that I was crying because he is gone, but I don't think that's all of it. He was the last familiar thing I had here (besides Loz, of course) and to watch him walk out that door was more difficult than I could have possibly imagined. Having him leave makes it real - I actually went through with this. Like Loz says, it's time to focus on the now instead of the then - grab the bull by the horns, name that bull "life" and hang on for dear life.

GIDDYUP!

The Gifts That I've Been Given

I'm packed, the car is loaded, maps are printed and hotel reservations made. This Kitten is ready for her Big Adventure. Sort of. I might be having a bit of a melt down, but I'm sure it's just cold feet. It's like right before you walk down the aisle towards the man of your dreams. Your head is swimming, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it may beat right out of your chest and you find yourself gasping for air. Is it because the man standing before you looks so incredibly handsome in his rented tuxedo, or is it because some little part of you is absolutely terrified of putting one foot in front of the other and taking the step that could irrevocably change your life? If you know me, or have read my previous posts, you know that I am a 29 year old divorcee. So maybe the wedding analogy isn't the best one to use because clearly I should have run screaming the other direction as soon as I found it even remotely difficult to breathe. I can only hope this adventure has a better outcome. And as I said in my first post, I always have hope.

And I have gifts! In the last several days I've been given gifts of all shapes and sizes - big, small, expensive, unique and thoughtful. There was a camera, a new laptop, quarters for the tolls, a copy of my favorite book. My 9 year old friend gave me the ugliest, most detestable looking purple and pink stuffed poodle I have ever seen. "It's for you to cuddle until you get your real dogs get to come live with you again", he said. It's by far the most beautiful stuffed animal I have ever had and I plan on squeezing it within an inch of it's life every time I miss my babies.

My best friend, The Master (MP), stopped over today and brought me a tiny, wooden hand-carved frog. This is the second occasion she has made such a gesture. Years ago, as I sat on the precipice of making a life-changing decision she presented me with a small pottery frog saying it was for good luck. I carry in my purse wherever I go and this new frog will be no different. This time she says its the "good luck traveling frog". Whatever it is, it means the world to me.

But perhaps the greatest gift of all were the words that were spoken by another close friend of mine, albeit drunkenly. Last night we surprised her with a 30th birthday party 2 months before the actual day of her birth. It was also my unofficial going away bash and trust me, we made the most of it. There were pictures, cake and large amounts of alcohol. We danced, we laughed, we toasted the fact the the Fabulous Five have withstood the test of time. We are all still friends, and always will be. Later, as the night was winding down I decided it was time for me to take my leave. Birthday Girl walked me out (well, more like stumbled, but she meant well). We stood on the sidewalk outside the bar exchanging one last drunken, sobbing embrace when she said "I love you. I am not scared for you because I know this is what is best for you. You NEED this and you are going to do so well and have so much fun because this is what you were meant to do. When you succeed, I will be here to share in those successes and if for some reason you fail, I will be here to pick up the pieces. But that won't happen so you make sure you call and tell me everything that's happening out there." That's a pretty good translation as some of the words were slurred, but I knew where she was going. You can't be friends for 25 years and not practically read the other's mind.

I was speechless, so I just buried my head in her shoulder and cried. A few moments later when I had recovered my senses I stepped back to look at her and just said thank you. Sometimes the greatest gift you can receive are the kind words of another - coming when you least expect it but at a time when they are most needed.

It's All Here

My Big Move is three days away - almost two. I think I have suffciently recovered from my panic attack but now I am feeling a little melancholy. Are these normal emotions when one is preparing to leave behind all that is familiar? I would think they are, but most people think I'm a little crazy so maybe I'm not a good judge of what's normal.

It's my own fault, really. I had a lot of time to think today as I was finishing up my packing and think I did. I couldn't stop thinking. It was like everything in my head was in a mad dash to get front and center. Memories were stumbling all over each other, pushing and prodding to gain my attention. It's ironic that some of us secretly, or maybe not so secretly in my case, spend our lives dreaming of a way out of this glacier and then when the moment arrives we spend the majority of our time reminiscing about everything that happened here.

My whole life is here. Everything and everyone that have made me who I am today are here. Or at least were at some point. I learned how to tie my shoes, ride a bike and cast a fishing rod here. It was here that I fell in love and subsequently got my heart broken for the first time ( sadly, I would let him in to break my heart a second, third, and years later as adults, a fourth. When will I ever learn??). This is the place where my strongest friendships (The Fabulous Five and all that have come after) were forged and where my best memories were made. Here is where I sang my first solo, learned how to drive, then learned how to handle a crash. I lost my virginity here and the first time I ever got drunk was on brandy in the kitchen of Nif's house playing King's Corner until dawn. I went to college and got my first job here. I got married and divorced here. My family is here, my friends are here, my dogs are here.

So yes, I will miss it here. I will miss everyone that I love, I will miss the seasons and I will miss my dogs (don't worry all you pet lovers, they are only staying here temporarily until I can get a place of my own. I could never leave them completely). But I will always have my memories. However, I am looking forward to making new memories in a new place. I do love a good adventure.

What Just Happened?

I find that I am asking myself that a lot these days. What just happened?

Yesterday Mr. Beautiful and I are on email fire and today nothing. Yes, I know I said I was going to say good-bye..........but I really do want to say good-bye. In person, clothing optional. I'm pretty sure we were on the same wavelength about that, but he hasn't called and no email today. Obviously there are no strings attached so I fail to see the problem. So what just happened?

Today I am having a conversation with a close friend who happens to be male. Again, over email as that seems to be my preferred method of communication. I tell him that I think I am having a panic attack and I ask what that feels like. He says (AND I QUOTE) "Like when I am too far away from you". Ummm, yeah. What just happened?

Last night I was uber-productive. I took Whit's advice and I PURGED! No, I did not throw up my dinner but when I was done in my closet it looked like 1995 had thrown up on my bedroom floor. I even got most of my packing done. I rented a car. As suggested by my ultra-trendy friend, I downloaded my music and uploaded my photos. I transferred files from my old computer to my new one (new life = new technology). I went to bed feeling satisfied that I was on my way to actually being prepared for this move. I woke up this morning gasping for breath as Europe's "It's the Final Countdown" screamed in my head and a cold sweat covered my entire body. Nightmare? I don't think so. I think I really am in the midst a full fledged panic attack. What just happened?

The Lion, The Witch and Kitten's Wardrobe

I swore I wouldn't start the countdown until I was one week out, but I'm so excited I just can't help myself. 9 days!!!!

Oh my God, only 9 more days and I am officially in panic mode. Being the queen of procrastination I have yet to rent a car (my old Geo is on it's last legs and while I love a good adventure, being stuck in the middle of nowhere is not on my top ten list of things to do in this lifetime), plot my drive, pack and all the other little things that go along with moving across the country. And if anybody knows what those other little things are, please tell me because I just know I am going to forget something. Packing should really be the simplest of tasks as I don't need much to start out except for my clothes and a few personal items. But, alas, it's become somewhat of a nightmare. Like HLW packing up for South Africa (that's right, I'm giving a shout out to the other DC blogger), I make lists but I keep changing them. Subtract this....add that....oh, I'll definitely want all my pictures......should I bring my DVDs?...........I wonder if Loz has a food chopper...........where in the world did I put that book I love so much and should I bring more than a few books (I damn near own enough to fill a Barnes & Noble)........will we have room for my tub full of purses..........I suppose I only really need 3 pairs of black heels.............how did I end up with 16 different scented lotions........must not forget the Traveling Frog...........my iPod.........my camera...........and just like that I've gone cross-eyed. It's a little like someone asking "If you were stranded on a desert island what is the one thing you would bring?". Does anybody really have a good answer to that question? No, because nobody really ever knows what they are going to need.

Then there's the clothing issue. In order to pack I am going to have to go through my closet and that in and of itself is daunting. I tried doing it the other day. I swear I did. I very diligently sorted and separated until I had all my clothes in three neat little piles. There was the "'cute I wear it all the time pile", the "there might be some use for this" and the "what the hell was I thinking and please tell me I never actually wore this in public" pile. That one was easy to get rid of. If it has any sort of embroidered animal on it, off to the goodwill it goes. It was the "there might be some use for this" pile that was my downfall. Let's be honest, if you really have to debate whether or not you are going to wear something most likely you aren't. That bridesmaid dress I wore 10 years ago that made me look like a box has no practical purpose and just takes up space. But on the other hand, it could make a rockin' Halloween costume someday. And on and on it went. Oh, I know I would never wear this tye-dyed shirt with the skull on it in public but it has sentimental value. Suddenly, I am at the bottom of my pile and and I have only discarded 2 items. This will not do at all. So, I promise myself that the next time I give it a go I will do so only after a few glasses of wine. Maybe it's easier to part with things when you are half in the bag.

On another note, I don't want to leave you all hanging wondering what happened with Mr. Beautiful and I so here is a quick synopsis of the shortest relationship I have ever had in my life. The last 2 weeks were a flurry of phone calls, emails, text messages and a few hours spent face to face. The relationship progressed at warp speed due to the cold hard fact that I am moving in a very short time. We spent some quality time together (and I do mean quality), but it was time to say good-bye to my pretty little distraction. I have only nine days left here and the distance pretty much negates any possibility of a romance. I have high hopes that we remain friends, but I suppose only time will tell.

Kids Say the Darndest Things....

I knew saying good-bye to the people closest to me wasn't going to be easy. I knew there would be a few tears, some last minute words of advice, maybe even a hug or two. I am prepared for it. What I didn't expect was the logic of a 9 year old to completely break my heart.



Last night I went to dinner with a friend and his 9 year old son. Now, this friend and I have a ridiculously complicated history that I won't bore you with the details of, but I've known his son since the day he was born and love him like he was my own. So we are at dinner, each of us concentrating on our respective meals predictably not saying much because that would mean we would inevitably end up discussing that I am leaving in just over two weeks and we'll be apart for the first time in years. We choose the alternative, the solution him and I always choose, which is to ignore the issue entirely.

That is, until out of blue, the 9 year old looks at me with those big beautiful eyes and sweet innocent face and says "We need a secret handshake". At first, I'm grateful for this completely random and seemingly mundane statement. Finally - conversation!!! Then I make the mistake of asking why.

"Because you are moving so far away and if you're gone a real long time and I grow up you might not recognize me."

It takes a second for me to connect the dots, but as soon as I do the fork I was holding clatters onto the table and I have to take several very deep breaths. This poor child thinks we need a secret handshake so that I will know who he is. My heart is breaking into a million little pieces. It takes a few moments before I can gather my emotions and even speak to reassure him that there will never come a time when I don't know him. Ever.

Say it with me: O-U-C-H!

Karma & the Kitten

I need a nap. This was a roller coaster of the weekend that saw ups, downs, laughter, a few tears and more whiskey than one should probably consume in a three day period. The drama started on Friday with the ending of a relationship that probably should have come far sooner than it did. I freely admit that for some unknown reason I have spent the last several months unknowingly (ok, I might have had a small clue) sabotaging that relationship. Two years and I just couldn't make the commitment he deserved. Sigh. Typical me......perfect man and I get restless. I decided to swear off men for awhile.

Of course I did. Never swear to anything.....it will come back to bite you. Let's fast forward (or rewind, depending on how you look at it) to Sunday - it's football day!!!! I wake up excited at the thought of a full day of watching football and relaxing after the drama. Not only is it football day, but the Vikings have a bye week which means I can enjoy my Saints and my Texans without the distracting and often raucous antics of the Purple People Eater fans. I dress myself up in my Texans T-shirt (pink, of course!) and Saints hat (I have to show love for both teams and no, I don't care that I don't match. This is football, for the love!!!). Then it's off to Buffalo Wild Wings to meet my friend Gimp for some booze and football. As I'm getting ready to enter the restaurant I get a text message from Gimp saying he wouldn't be there for another hour and a half. I am now left with two options. I can either suck it up and watch ESPN for an hour or go home and watch whatever depressing news show my dad is has on until Gimp can get off work to meet me.

It takes me about a split second to to decide that ESPN is a far better choice, so I settle myself at a table in the bar. After all, it's only 90 minutes and and for 30 minutes of that the games will be on. So I'm sitting there wishing desperately that the TV had some sound as the caption read "Ahman Green: Out for Houston" when he walks in. And takes a seat at the table next to mine. I notice because a) he has to walk right by me to get to his table b) he is by far one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen in my life (we're talking the perfect combination of Taye Diggs and Mos Def) and c) did I mention that he was beautiful????

Then he looks at me. I'm looking at him. Eye contact!! That's good, right? NO! That's not good! That's bad......very, very, very bad. I was there to watch football, not to make eyes at some random guy. Pull it together, Kitten! You are surrounded by 27 televisions all showing a different game. You're moving in three weeks. Nevermind that you just got out of a relationship less than 48 hours prior. You're moving in 3 weeks. Boys are not on the agenda right now, remember? Not even ones that look as yummy as a hot fudge brownie sundae. You're moving in 3 weeks.

Wait, did he just smile at me? Uh-oh.

He did smile at me. I smiled back. We have a moment. Now I'm not shy by any definition of the word but I just couldn't bring myself to talk to this guy. Maybe it was that I was worn out from an entire weekend of saying good-bye to friends and breaking off a 2 year relationship (even though it was the most amicable split in the history of man, it still stings a little). No, I tell myself, you do not need the complication. Then he speaks. To me. Seriously? We chat and invites me to sit with him. Because my brain has obviously left the building, I do. Well, that and I feel like a fool sitting in a bar by myself.

So we talk. We have a drink. We laugh. We have another drink. I impress him with my extensive knowledge of football. We have a shot because by now it's halftime and that means it's time for that shot of Petron I do every Sunday during the Texans game (I should add here that I am not the only one that does this. I just happen to be the only one in Minnesota). Mr. Beautiful is trying to teach me some game that involves calling the plays before they happen and I am getting dizzy trying to watch 3 games at one time. It could be the booze but I'm thinking it might have been the fact that this beautiful man is sitting with his leg pressed against mine. I'm suddenly finding it very hard to breathe.

Sadly, all good things come to an end and this was no exception. The games are over (Texans won by kicking a field goal with 1 second left in the game. Saints lost - AGAIN!!!) and it's time to go home. As I leave he asks for my number and again, because I'm practically swooning in his presence I give it to him. Not that I think he'll call.

But he did call. He called 5 hours later and asked if I'd like to meet him out at Old Chicago with some friends. It was 10 o'clock at night and I was already in my pajamas. I'm moving in three weeks. This man is beautiful. And nice. And smart and I'm moving in three weeks. Maybe I'm glutton for punishment, but I went. The conversation was excellent and the eye candy sweet. When I decided to leave he walked me to my car and ASKED MY PERMISSION to kiss me.

Ummm..............did he really think I would say no? Hell no! YES! The answer is a resounding yes!!! So he kissed me. And of course I kissed him back. It was a good kiss. No, it was a fantastic kiss. Meow!

And that, my friends, is how karma came back to haunt me. Wouldn't you know it that three weeks before I leave I meet someone interesting? Not only that but it happens two days after I break it off with a really wonderful guy. If that's not karma I don't know what is. He says he has 3 weeks to change my mind about moving. I think nothing will change my mind but it might be fun seeing him try.

The Perfect Time Of Year

This is the perfect time of year. It's the time of year for apple orchards and pumpkin patches. It's the time of year when the leaves start to turn into an incredible palette of orange, red and gold making every drive down residential street like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. More importantly, it's the time of year that every true sports fan loves. This month I can watch the baseball playoffs (but i won't because the Twins stunk it up this year), football (GO SAINTS! GO TEXANS! That's right, you heard me - not a Vikings fan), or my one true love.....HOCKEY. As I sit here writing this I am eagerly anticipating the dropping of the puck for the first (insert delighted squeal) Wild game of the regular season. Since I can't be at the game you can bet I'll be in front of the TV screaming so loud they'll hear me in D.C.

That being said, you may ask yourself why I am leaving if everything is so perfect here in Minnesota. Go ahead and ask yourself. Just don't ask me. Moving Day is just 24 days away and the news is spreading faster than the Great Chicago Fire. I'll admit, I'm a bit perplexed by the reactions. I've been guilt tripped, lectured, sobbed at and completely ignored.

"You're making a huge mistake."
"How could you leave me?" (You'd think this one came from the bf, but it didn't)
"You're not going. YOU ARE NOT GOING!"
"Have you really thought this through?"

Wait...........................what?

I'm 29 years old with a college degree and a fair amount of common sense. Does anyone really believe I haven't thought this through? Not only have I thought about it - I've been obsessing about it since April. I've envisioned every every scenario from the good, bad and absolutely dreadful and I'm more than willing to take the risk. Don't get me wrong, I realize that most of these things were said out of concern for my well-being (at least that's what I'm choosing to believe) and it's nice to feel needed. I'm just curious why everyone seems to feel they are obligated to tell me the risks instead of maybe saying "Happy trails and good luck".

Maybe it's because there seem to be some serious doubts about my sanity, but I spent most of the day pondering when and why my desire to make a much needed change in my life became about everyone else. We all have hopes, dreams and passions..........is it so wrong to want to pursue mine?

Time For a Change

There are very few things that can move one into action as swiftly and completely as disappointment. I'm not talking about the kind of disappointment you feel on a Sunday afternoon when your 2-1 Texans make a complete debacle of themselves by losing to the 0-3 Falcons after you have already spent $7.00 on a shot of Petron because of some silly tradition you weren't even around to create. At least it numbed the pain of humiliating defeat. No, I'm talking about the kind of heart breaking, gut wrenching, soul twisting disappointment you feel when you're expectations about something - or someone - have been shattered into a million little pieces like the Tiffany lamp of my mother's I dropped when I was in the 4th grade. It's when you know that even though they've said the words, they don't really mean them. It's the kind of disappointment that comes from having so much to say, but not quite being able to form the words and realizing that even if you had it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway.

It's that bitter taste that makes you wake up one morning and say "Enough is enough. Get me the hell out of here!"

And so, with disappointment weighing heavily on my heart I finally decided to stop putting off the move to Washington D.C. and just do it. Not only am I going to do it, I am going to document it for all you voyeurs out there that love drama. Perhaps I should thank disappointment for kicking my butt into gear. Ready or not, here I come. In a few weeks I will pack up my clothes, my journals and my computer and head east. I just need to get there. There's a new life waiting in the one bedroom condo my best friend rents on Capitol Hill. Ok, so maybe it isn't the greatest start to a new life, and this little adventure of mine will probably come with it's own set of disappointments, but at least it's a start.

Even if disappointment is my word of the day, it doesn't mean I don't have hope.