This is my nephew Riley. I took this picture on my birthday, which is the day after his. (He’s two years old now, holy crap!) For his birthday, his daycare provider gave him a Red Sox ball and bat, which he then used to walk down the hall like it was a cane while chanting, “Auntie! Auntie! Auntie!” (Yes, I was on a cane while I was visiting last month, due to the meniscus surgery I’d had two weeks earlier.) Sadly only his dad was a witness to this, and he did not take video. I adore him, of course.
So, I moved. My friends and I painted the new apartment, I went into a frenzy of packing, and after $500 and eight hours with two professional movers, my stuff was officially transferred from West Hollywood to West L.A.
Living room, painting and filled with stuff
It’s been a rush, to be sure. The new place is smaller and I’m trying to readjust my thinking as I try to purge the excess from the many boxes. I’ve always been very attached to “having stuff”, even if it’s just stuff I shove under a bed or into a closet. Having it has always been the key for me. Now, I’m working on asking myself, “So what if I *don’t* have it? What will change?” This week I gifted several of my prized collectible Barbies. I’m shipping yarn to a friend tomorrow. I’m starting to think it might even be possible for me to let go of the Buffy action figures. ?!
Tomorrow I’m going to Ikea to purchase two PAX wardrobe units for my bedroom, and I’m very excited. I’ve been living out of suitcases for two weeks now (my dresser did not survive the move, and the new place as ONE, TINY closet), and I’ve reached a point with the boxes where there just isn’t any place left to put things. And Saturday, WeHo is having a shredding/recycling event at City Hall, so I may even get to unload 15 years of paper in one fell swoop. Seriously, I’m getting all tingly.
ION, I went home to Massachusetts last month for my friend Rebecca’s wedding. It was a great week (Red Sox game! Karaoke! Bar hopping in Boston!) and a great wedding, and I even learned that Mr. Darcy actually had a first name. I did not know that. (It’s Fitzwilliam, btw. Or maybe FitzWilliam?)
That’s all the news that’s fit to print–for now, anyway. 🙂
