There's a Bright Golden Haze on the Meadow

...and it's the glorious sheen of my generic Zoloft.

But first:  A big blonde thank you to Neysa The Reader, who unwittingly, and therefore extra-awesomely, comes riding to the rescue regarding a certain incident involving The Bridemobile, a mailbox, and a seventeen-year inability to back.  Neysa The Reader is one of those people who apologizes for sending free money, quote, "late."  I hereby deem Neysa The Reader officially "late" in the sense that Indiana Jones was late to freeing an old, bearded James Bond from a burning building, only... I'm not... you know... Scottish.  Or in command of a submarine.

What I want to know is why the mailbox lay in wait for me to have an absolutely clear view of it.  When I left Ginger, this is what I saw out the back window:



But not to worry! There was plenty of clearance out the front passenger window:

Feelin' fresh on the move

As foretold, my next stop isn't Mobile; it's a month-long writing residency in Colorado.   That means I'll need cooking utensils, clothes, office crap, and Jell-O shot supplies to last me a trimester.  And, well-- you know how a space can look really really big, and then you start, like, putting things in it, and all of a sudden it's really really small?  And then you're left with two boxes of books and a casserole dish and a butane torch and The History of the National Space Transportation System strewn all over the sidewalk and nowhere to put it?  Exactly.

I mean, it was mostly toothpaste and half-empty boxes of Bisquick-- things which I assume that Oklahoma manages to import-- but as I stood there, hands on hips, conceding that there was no physical way that this here stuffed inchworm was going to make it into that car, I also conceded that every single German antecedent was at that moment spinning him or herself a good foot and a half deeper into the ground.  I was... going to have to... throw away... perfectly good things.

Twelve hours earlier, I had gleefully shoved quarter-bottles of colored sugar into the hands of our Lutheran pastor, thrilled that the church pre-school could make use of three-year-old Christmas cookie topping leavings.  Also, twelve hours earlier, it wasn't two in the morning.  What had to go... had to go.

So I cried, there in the night, over the pantyliners bought with a coupon, on sale.  It was the Sophie's Choice of non-perishable goods.

I pulled aside the stuffed bear given unto me last Valentine's Day, the space shuttle book, my mother's harvest yellow measuring cups handed down on the day I moved out.  And I ran upstairs and placed a Gund horse, a Tinkerbelle stationery set, and a near-full pack of toilet paper in the room that was once my office.  I left it for the family of six which would be taking over the lease the next week.  It was... stuff.  Useful stuff.

Crap, really.

I grabbed onto it with both hands, I think, because the four weeks in Colorado before me are, at the moment, downright terrifying.  I will be Josh The Pilot-less, and sharing  a house... which I already do, granted, but with a bendy left-brained person, not four other Official Creative People.  I don't do well with taking turns being the shrieky nightwalker.

Then I saw a gate.

As the 1200 pound blind spot and I entered the Ozarks, the granite chipped into the hillsides said hello, and I said hi back, and now we're friends.  And the granite said, "There's more where I came from."  And I said, "I am not going any closer to Branson."  And Andy Williams said, "F-you."

And even that was okay.

life in a tub at:  mbe@drinktothelasses.com

Comments

[Gateways | Morning Works Media]

[...] up on the migration:  The pantyliners Mary Beth left behind Share and [...]

[Em The Reader]

I hope the worst of the trauma is over! May your new home in OK and your temp-abode in CO have stores with excellent wine selections nearby.

[red pill junkie]

I'm sure that what you lost in useful stuff, you gained in good Karma :)

[mike knows how tom hanks felt]

I know the feeling. On one level, I was surprised how much of my life could fit in a '96 Ford Taurus, and on the other I was busted up about the things I couldn't take with me.

[MB]

Did you have to ditch your pantyliners, too?

[Anne from Iowa]

Woo hoo! MB is only two states away from Anne from Iowa.

*Note to self: get stalker shoes ready...

[Dorrie]

Hey MB,

I'm an old fan and logged on (in a fit of procrastination, I admit) to read about your latest adventures involving the writing residency and detachment from Josh-The-Pilot.

If it's any consolation, I've been living apart from my beau, my husband of 8 years, to take a job in Chicago. I live and work in Chi-town and he's in The Bend (2 miles from ND). We see each other for about 29 hours each weekend. It's a sucky, sucky existence but Hallmark was right when they wrote mushy greetings about absence making the heart grow fonder.

I *hate* it when Hallmark is correct about matters of the heart!

This, too, shall pass. Strong marriages and friendships only get stronger! You guys are in my prayers during this tumultuous time.

[MB]

OK, now I feel better. Long distance SUCKS, and I wish you the very best. I'll pray back atcha : )

[Sara N]

Always knew Andy Williams was a potty mouth!

[The Others « Blonde Cham]

[...] have a lingerie bag?” she asked me. (They always ask me. For everything. Because I have it. The Bridemobile was loaded to critical mass in Virginia, added to in Oklahoma City, and thinned out only marginally as I crossed the Continental Divide. I [...]