Mr. Murphy, the Move from Hell, & a Korbel Cheers!

Some of you know by now that I am a new resident of Santa Rosa, in the heart of California’s Wine Country!

Yes, I’ve left my beloved San Diego (not to mention kids and grandkids) to return to my native Northern California – although my roots are in a direct line from Santa Rosa to the state’s eastern border county, El Dorado, in the Gold Country – Sonoma County borders the ocean, and that works for me.

The ambivalent decision to move so far from my loved ones was not made lightly. However, cousins Ron (like my brother) and Jimmy (it’s his childhood home!) made a roommate offer I couldn’t refuse. (Think of us as The Golden Girls of Three’s Company. LOL!)

Although no one of retirement age wants to move – what an odious project at best – I’m hoping it will provide more time to work on my writing. Timing is everything …

You've heard of Murphy's Law, right? "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." Ol' Murphy just LOVES me.

The plans were set – all was in order to move. Penske rental truck reserved, help on the way, 90% of “stuff” still in storage/boxes from earlier this year – easy-peasy, right? Ah, Mr. Murphy had his own plans …

Life … Half-Full … Half-Empty … Half-A_ _ ed!

 Wow – three months to the day – sorry for such a delay in posts, but sometimes life is NOT “just a bowl of cherries.” [Anyone under 39 won’t know the significance of that statement. :-) ]

Yep, I’m wrestling with the pits. So this is going to be a short one.

I’m experiencing one of life’s many speed bumps and it’s a doozie. You know how the older we get the less we like change? And moving? Well that’s right up there with the taste of sour grapes. Or a twist of lemon. Or that over-ripe lime slice … hmmmmm, wonder if I have any Corona in the fridge?

Ummm, anyway … I’m packing my life away once again for another turning-me-on-my-head move. At my age, moving isn’t just a short interruption, it’s a back-breaking, joint-crunching, headache increasing, pain in the a _ _.

I know in a few weeks I’ll be settled “somewhere,” and I always find a measure of joy wherever I am. But THIS is the furthest from any vision I had of myself oh, so long ago, when stretching my 39-year-old mind to consider beyond middle age. How did I get here?!

Choices … we must live with the consequences of them, as well as those with exciting results. But much of my current angst is also thanks to our country’s misrepresented financial state of affairs, coupled with the debilitating recession/depression (my own interpretation).

New beginnings … I used that topic once for my most successful essay contest (I ran several in the ‘90s while heading a Southwest writers’ group). For most, the phrase elicits visions of hope … not necessarily true when facing (or surviving) drastic, life-changing events.

So wish me luck … through a veil of emotional and physical pain, I’m trying to view it optimistically and hope that the new life which awaits can be cheered, not with a glass half-empty, but one half-full that I can enjoy filling to the brim again. (Pass the Guinness!)

 

It isn’t an age … it’s an attitude!

Rock On!