"Dwelling In Possibility" ...

It has occurred to me that several of my recent blog entries have touched on things I’m leaving behind as I transition towards life in the UK.  This is a natural tendency for anyone making such a change, and I’ve subsequently been inclined to document this process from that vantage.  Nonetheless, (and to borrow from Emily Dickinson for a moment), it seems I could afford to shift focus a bit, and to ‘dwell in possibility’.  

To that end, I’d like to highlight a few of the things I believe I am gaining.  Of course, this is a challenge unto itself, as I probably won’t realize even half of them until I’m there!  However, looking forward, a few things do come to mind:

1. A wonderful life partner!
2. A sense of accomplishment for daring to make this incredible life revision
3. Residing closer to France (a great indulgence for every American girl!)
4. An average work week of 37 hours and lots more vacation leave
5. Breathtakingly beautiful vistas
6. A field of lambs near our flat in Spring
7. A thinks I need to include haggis in this, but I’m not quite there yet. (!)
8. The National Trust!!!  http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/
9. Costa Coffee (notwithstanding the accompanying caffeine addiction)
10. My favorite type of weather (and hopefully cute ‘wellies’ to go with it!)
11. A notable lack of tornadoes
12. BBC!
13. Antiquity
14. The Queen’s English
15. Opportunities to form new friendships

This is but a start … I’m confident there will be many more.  I’m also sure I’ll blog about them in future. 

Stay tuned!

 

What I'm leaving behind...

An inspired photo by a Kansas photographer capturing the beauty of our State!

My Closet Addiction

Today, I mourn.  Not anything serious or life-altering. Probably not anything that will matter in 5 years time.  You see, I am an American clothes horse, and I’m facing the anguishing prospect of severe editing of my wardrobe for the practical purpose of, say, actually affording shipping costs, or better yet – not filling an entire room of our flat-to-be with my two walk-in closets and two dressers full of clothing?  *Sigh*. 

How did I get to be this way?  I don’t think it’s exactly another Imelda Marcos with her shoes.  I’m not a spend-a-holic or in debt.  The answer is two-fold: 

1)       Fluctuating weight over time, hence collections of clothing in 3 different sizes. 

2)       We have closets!!!

Excepting newer construction, it appears that a fair number of British homes (including A’s) don’t come with closets. By contrast, in the Midwest USA, I’ve never lived in a house that doesn’t (and spacious ones to boot).  Granted, there is a certain charm to an armoire or wardrobe as a furniture piece, but there is a limit to what they can hold!  (Unless, of course, you are the lucky children in ‘The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe).    

One theory about this (which I haven’t independently verified so accept at your own risk) is that there were once taxes levied ‘per room’ in homes, and that closets were counted as rooms and thus were not worth the extra taxes.  Perhaps that’s true, and perfectly sensible.  Perhaps that’s a convenient story by a certain man who is trying to gently persuade me to pare down and not feel bad about this trade-off.   As I’ve been spoiled to date with generous closet spaces, I now have to decide if my three-tiered collection of apparel is worth the extra fees in baggage or shipping. 

So, back to the mourning.  There are three well-known stages of grief.  First, shock. (I’m long over the surprise of lack of closets in the UK, and after all, there is much else to love there).  Secondly, denial.  (I’ve spent this past summer there, as clothes editing is never going to happen to me!).  Thirdly, acceptance. 

Hmmm…  I’m still looking for ways around this third one…

Gainfully unemployed

After 16 years working in one capacity or another for the same company, in the same industry … I am now officially the very thing I never imagined I’d be.  I’m gainfully unemployed. 

In this case it’s really not an oxymoron.  Frightening? Yes.  Contradictory? No.  It’s a state of being quite foreign to my very nature.  It’s a thing that is soberingly and unjustly true of too many these days ~ through layoffs, downsizing, lack of opportunity or jobs.  As someone who was driven by a desire for stability and security in her 20s, my career was something that I built and nurtured, and never something that I took for granted.  When you work at something long enough, it ends up forming at least a part of your identity. 

So how can one be ‘gainfully’ unemployed? In my case only as a necessary part of the process of preparing for life with A in the UK.  My profession doesn’t really exist there in a recognizable form due to some fundamental differences between the US and UK with regard to health care, insurance, negligence laws, litigation, and other details I won't bore you with.    Although I’ve gained much from the hopefully transferable skills I’ve acquired through the years, I believe that change can be a very good thing in life.  To that end, on Friday I leapt out of the proverbial plane with a parachute, pulled the ripcord, and am hoping for expecting the best.  It’s a leap of faith, but a rare opportunity and a challenge I am ready to embrace. 

Turning 40, getting married, ‘retiring’ my career, moving house, moving country, all in short order.  I overheard a colleague imply to another that it’s like yanking me out of every aspect of life as I know it.  I may as well be going to Mars the way some see it.  It’s not for everyone.  It’s not easy to explain.  I’m not going to try. 

I’m going to ride these currents to distant shores like an explorer, and make the most of my days.  Platitudinous, but true ~ life is what you make of it, and, happiness comes from within. 

I can’t wait to share my life with A …

… wherever that takes us. 

Six Hours

My phone rings.  It’s 6:30 a.m.   This may not be so difficult for some of you, but for those of you who, like me, are NOT a morning person… you can imagine the drill.   Phone rings, and rings, and rings, while I fumble clumsily for what seems an eternity because I can’t locate the handset in my semi-conscious state.  Not to mention I want to throw the thing at the wall for the raucous noise it’s making.  Upon finally locating the earth-shattering bell that pierces my fog in a most disagreeable way – I groggily answer.  On the other end is the most chipper voice of A from six hours into the future… around his lunch time. 

I can barely form an intelligible sentence.  A is full of life and laughter and interesting tidbits.   He sometimes wants to discuss important issues… though I sense sometimes that he wistfully tables anything really important until I’m marginally functioning. 

This is our daily routine… for the past 3+ years.  We can rarely do the ‘my lunchtime / his early evening’ chat due to frequent scheduling conflicts.  This is not to say that we haven’t been able to have a decent conversation in three years… quite the contrary!  We do carve out quality time… and quantity (even if in varying states of wakefulness). 

Fast forward a few hours…

A’s phone rings.  It’s 11:00 p.m. GMT.  It’s 5:00 p.m. CST.  My workday is finished and I want to tell A all about the day, discuss important issues, laugh or vent and hear about his day.  I’m a mile a minute and somewhat animated… A is now the grumpy groggy one. 

Thank goodness for weekends!

Can’t wait to share a timezone…  :)