Deep Thoughts...

... about packing. As I stall getting to packing this morning, I am trying to find the deeper meaning in something so mundane.  Packing is such a statement about us as people, and our society.  What things are so valuable to us that we haul them around the country with us?  Not blue and grey striped love seats with burn holes in them, I'm trying to convince Jeff.  Or ugly hand-me-down lamps.  They are not beloved.  He insists they can go in the basement if we get there and decide we don't want them in the family room or living room.  So I will have a fully furnished unfinished basement and empty living room and family room.  

And how many times am I going to move that boxed up wedding dress?  It served its purpose.  There are lots of pictures of it.  I'm certainly not going to wear it again.  I think it's between a size 0 and 2. My girls will never wear it.  It screams 1990's.  So once again I will find a nice place in the back of my next bedroom closet and it will sit there for years.  Do you know anyone who is looking for a size 2, 1990's wedding gown?  

Why does Jeff need textbooks from Psychology 101?  (Well, he did marry me... it might come in handy sometimes).  The espresso maker never got unpacked in Michigan, but certainly I will use it in New York.  Kudos to Courtney for accomplishing the task of helping me respectfully lay to rest the J. Crew sandals I've had as long as she's known me.  She was great about it, gushing over how they've been wonderful shoes, so many great memories, still looking timeless... but almost worn through the bottom.  When she answered my question of "Should I still wear them?" with "Well, you could wear them when you're out in your garden," I knew it was time to say good-bye to the sandals.  It was nice to have someone with me who understood when I did.  

Things.  We spend so much money on them and love them... and then we spend more money to drag them to our next dwelling or throw them away with long-cooled passion.  And why am I blogging so much about packing?  Well, because I haven't seen enough of my kids in days to write about them.  Because I've been busy packing.   Or writing about packing, which is much easier.  And they have developed quite the habit of using potty humor in my inattention, so I wouldn't want to write much of what they've been saying anyway.  For instance, I do occasionally feel sorry for them mid-afternoon and run them over to the pool for a few hours.  The apartment complex pool they get to themselves because the lawn chairs around the edges are completely occupied by college age beauties in  bikinis and the college age guys who come out to ogle them.  In this peaceful scene Anna hollers out, "Look, Mom, when I fart in the pool it makes lots of bubbles!"  Which actually got a few laughs from some college age guys.  Maybe I should spend a little more time with my little people... though I think the damage has been done.  To them and to the blog.