Stiletto Diaries™

Have You Been Shooting Dope Into Your Scrotum? You Can Tell Me! I’m Hip!

Posted on July 2nd, 2010 in Emotional Angst, Featured, Migration Paths

In a mere weeks time, the last of our things should be disappearing into the back of a moving truck.

It would seem that my ability or desire to write has been packed amongst the knickknacks and flotsam collected over the course of our lives.  I’ve sat down to write at least a dozen times, only to find myself distracted or drawn away by something more pressing.  That, or I stare at the “New Post” screen, unsure of what to say or how to begin.

Tomorrow Jack and the kid will fly out to Calgary, where the younglings will be safely deposited with my mum, who is just thrilled to have them.  They will be staying with her for the greater part of July I imagine, at least until our things arrive and have been somewhat unpacked and arranged.  Jack will remain in Calgary until the 8th of July, while Aiden and I oversee most of the packing and loading.  On the 9th, P arrives, and on the 10th, the four of us and the dogs, will set out for Alberta in two vehicles.

We intend to camp, and see a few sights alone the way, and rotate vehicles so that everyone gets a turn to hang out with each other.  It’s actually somewhat precarious to arrange who will drive, as Aiden’s car is a stick, and only he and I know how to drive a standard, and P is too young to drive either of the cars, due to insurance issues.  So that Jack doesn’t have to drive the whole way, I imagine I will take over and ride with him or P, while the other rides with Aiden, and when I am with Aiden, he and I can switch off so that he gets a break as well.  We need to stop for the dogs every 4-6 hours anyway, so there will be plenty of opportunities to change up drivers and passengers.

In the mean time, Aiden and I have plans to spend some time with his family, hit up St. Jacob’s market, go to Wonderland with Dex, and do a little hiking.  Anything to stay out of the house, which seems to have become a huge source of stress for me.  I feel better when I am not constantly fussing over the move and the packing.  It will all get done, regardless.  I keep reminding myself of that, but it’s difficult to let go of my anal retentive OCD ways.  It’s much easier to escape, and leave the worst of it to the packers.  That’s what they are being paid for, after all.