moving weekend take 57

Atlanta is a foodie town and whenever I try a good, new restaurant, I’m almost guaranteed to say, “my dad would love this place.” The man will try any food once, and I can think of almost nothing he dislikes. The more obscure options they have, the more interested he is.  Which is why, this weekend when we were somehow able to squeeze in some really good meals in between loads of manual labor, I called it a great success.

We kick started the weekend at Murphy’s Friday night. After driving all day, Muff&Dave definitely deserved good food and wine. It was so much fun being able to show them a new place right by my house – I kept telling them they should just retire in Atlanta. Who needs the beach when you have Peachtree? 

Saturday we got up bright and early to start moving day. We moved all.day.long, from before 8 a.m. to after 9 p.m. – but it was so worth it. My parents were, as usual, total workhorses and I could not be more grateful for it. I think I’d be moving for three weekends in a row without them. Every time I turned around I felt like they’d done something else fast, furiously and perfectly.

The place was all set up by the time we stopped, and I’m so happy in it. I didn’t realize how much of a toll having rats was taking on me – I feel like a weight has been lifted.

Saturday night we crashed into our seats at Pozole for some good Mexican and margs.

Sunday, we woke up and had breakfast at West Egg before they hit the road. I basically begged them to (1) stay until Monday and (2) move here, but so far they’ve resisted. Maybe if I stopped putting them to work every time they came my arguments would work better?

Thank you, mom and dad, for moving me – yet again!!

It's Friday! And we're moving!

Yaay and a half! Just one more little night in our house to go!

My parents are en route to Atlanta to help, and, let me tell you, there are very few things that are a greater testament to how much they love me than the frequency with which they've helped me move. Three times in less than one year, to be exact. Not to mention twice in the two months preceeding our January 2012 move. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

Here's to hoping this one will stick, or else people might start wondering if we're in witness protection...

Happy long weekend, you guys! I hope it's great!

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on letting people in

A few of my friends have told me that when they read my blog, they feel like they're just talking to me - it's pretty much stream of conscience. And while I do get on here most days and ramble about myself - almost exclusively - I can be pretty awkward when it comes to actually talking about myself in person. My friend Katie and I joke that we go into interview mode, where we just hammer out questions to deflect the conversation.

Certain subjects we have mastered and could talk about for days - because they're safe. But when it comes to the real conversation - the hard stuff - I can get pretty squirmy. For better or for worse, I'd rather listen all day than have to get real about some topics. 

I've been working on being better at it for the last few(+) months - on getting real and opening up. And this week I was talking to my friend Jordan and mid-conversation stopped and said, Jor, I'm so sorry. I am completely dominating this conversation. To which she said, No! I love it. You never do this. 

And I don't think I'm alone here. If you watch closely, there is a whole crew of girls out there who are constantly trying to shorten their stories, get to the point quickly, ask how are you, before someone can ask them. 

Somewhere along the line, we've been trained to think that it's impolite or selfish to share with one another. But as I've tried (seriously - it's hard) to be better at sharing, I've noticed that it's actually just the opposite. It comforts the other person when you can share that you, too, struggle with this or were wondering about that. It drives the relationship and creates a sense of both safety and vulnerability. 

So, yes, I once told a therapist: but tell me about you! 

But that was long ago, and now I'm beginning to see that as scary as it is to open up and let people into our most personal of spaces, it's a lot happier when there are other people in there with you. 

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life lessons in the most unexpected of places

On Monday, Mel and I met with our new landlord and he told us a story about a friend who has a mouse in his house. He said when he heard the story, he thought of us.

To which I said: Are you saying when you think of rodents, you think of us?

We were, of course, flattered.

He then went on to tell us that they've never had any animals in any of their 80 properties in 27 years, except one mouse in Smyrna.

To this, Melissa and I simultaneously made a joke about the fact that we'd basically welcome one tiny mouse into our house at this point. I think she ended with something along the lines of, "he sounds kind of cute!"

When we moved in to this house, we were terrified when we saw a cockroach. Had you told us we'd have a mouse down the road, we'd have flipped. Nowadays one little baby Fieval doesn't seem like much compared to our brood. 

And while I hate to give any sort of credit to them, I can't help but notice the major perspective change we've had in just three months. It's amazing how everything that happens to us - good, bad or beautiful - is clearly and quickly shaping us.

Lately, I've had these moments where I feel a little bit stuck in life - like I'm not sure what exactly I am supposed to be doing, and this revelation gives me a sense of hope. In the moments where I just don't know what is next, I know that in three months, I could be seeing things entirely differently, feeling a new way or making changes bigger than my address. 

If we just keep doing our best and trusting that things will fall into place, they will. A mouse may have been scary in September, but it's January now, and we're braver and bolder and open to this unexpected change. Do we clear those traps ourselves? No. But we're not breaking any feet over them, either.