Wednesday, May 17, 2017

I want a damned medal

And a sash and tiara.  Just did an official counting of my addresses and I've moved.....forty-nine (49!!!) times in my life.  That's more moves than I am years old.  While I'm sure it has helped me be flexible and adaptable to new cultures/regions, and certainly culled my worldly goods~I'm done.  I'd like to explore putting down roots and having some continuity in my life.

Done whining and back to the gratitude bits of this blog.  The weather is breezily sunny and the students have shifted into that bittersweet phase of eagerness of saying good-bye and moving forward and yet, savoring their memories with their friends.

Onwards we go.


  1. That's insane! There's something beautiful about putting down roots. I hope you get to do it soon.

    1. I know! I need to marry a farmer or a forester who can't move!

  2. ...yeah. Looking back at our time in Scotland and knowing we moved ever. single. year. and sometimes twice in one year... it just robs one of a bit of the joy in the whole thing, does it not? D. has about ten years left before he wants to officially "retire" to do only projects he wants to do -- and so I'm hoping that we can stay in one house for at least another five years - ten would honestly be something; we've never stayed ANYWHERE that long. Funny, for a childhood where I moved exactly once, at age five. Since sixteen, I've been moving at least twice a year, even if that was just between various motel rooms and the dorm(s). It does get old.

  3. If I had a medal for all my moves, I'd give it to you, dear!