Movement

1. Sweet Dave, super trucker.
2. That is one HUMUNGOUS truck. Our house is hidden behind it.
3. Trying to get it shut without anything falling out.
4. Dahlia with her Nonno, my dad.
5. Dahlia with Granpa Stan, Dave's dad.

Happy Birthday to me. Today I turned 36. Eighteen times two. Double Chai. Double the life.
Today was moving day. The apartment is empty. The carpets are clean. Tomorrow the cleaning lady comes and then I have the walkthrough with our landlady, and I'm visualizing getting our whole deposit back with no problems.
I woke up at 6:30 this morning, first one up. Woke up 40 minutes before the exact hour of my birthday. I think I got about 3.5 hours of sleep, yet I was still awake. Took a shower. Wrote Father's Day cards to Dave, my dad, and Stan, my father in law. Then the carpet cleaners came and I woke up Dave and Dahlia so they could empty what was left in our bedroom: an inflatable bed and some bedding.
We went to Draecena park one last time with my dad and sister and Dave's aunt and uncle and cousin, and had birthday bagels. Sharon gave me the most beautiful card and picture frame of photos of us, to take to Israel. I just cried. Today I've cried more than I have been these last few weeks.
Today I finally felt fried. Really tired from all the going going going.
Today, after I dropped my laptop and thought I'd broken it, I let Dave hug me and told him, "I can't do this."
Do what? Nothing, really. I'm just feeling it. Feeling how hard I've been working to get this happening.
How much work it was to pack up our house, pack up what we're taking with us, organize it all just perfectly so that it would fit into our 6 suitcases and stay within the weight limit - the extended weight limit, that is: 70 pounds each. 4 out of 6 of the suitcases are almost at 70, the other 2 are almost at 50. That's a lot of stuff, but we aren't shipping anything, which is nice.
Dave rented a 22 foot truck and he and his dad are driving across the country on I-80 all the way to Cincinnati, where it will stay in storage until we get there next May. You should've seen how full that truck was - top to bottom, side to side, front to back. Not a crevice unfilled with something. A family of three and all our stuff.
Except our bed which we sold to a young kid for $80.
Except our dining room set, which used to belong to Dave's parents since their wedding, which we sold to a guy for his poker game - seems fitting since Dave's parents love to play poker.
Except our big green leather couch, which we sold to a Berkeley family that called it their first "grown up" couch - parents probably close to 50 who'd had the same couch for 24 years, a couch they'd found on the sidewalk. They borrowed some money so that they could buy the couch from us. They LOVED the couch, and will give it a good home. That feels good.
Except our old stroller, which we gave to a woman who sent it on a plane to Guatemala for her sister in law's new baby.
Very auspicious, all of it. Shows us how it's just flowing. It's time to make this move.
A week from tomorrow we go to New York, and a few days later we're off to Israel. That abstract place that is what we've been working for since just over a year ago when Dave said to me, "I have to make rabbinical school happen or I will become a shell of a man." What else can you say to that but, "Okay, let's make it happen." And we have. We're doing it.
Dahlia and I are spending the week with Dave's aunt and uncle. I'm tying up loose ends, getting little things together, seeing some friends and family, and then Dave will join us next weekend for a few days and then we're off.
Dahlia is fast asleep after a long and full day. This week I get to sleep next to my little girl in a big king bed. Listening to her little snores. Loving her. Making sure she has enough sunscreen on because the sun is hot. The California sun is sending us off with brightness.
Last night Dave took me away from the suitcases and STUFF that surrounded us all over the empty living room and we went downstairs and lit two sparklers we'd found in a drawer. We breathed deep the Bay Area salty fresh air. We appreciated this place where we come from, thanked it, felt ready to move away and discover new smells of different summers in new places. Jerusalem. Cincinnati. Who knows where after that.
I'm 36 today. I like that. I feel 36. I feel grown up. I've really been showing my stuff lately, and it's pretty impressive.
I am an EXPERT packer. A master at the big Tetris game that packing is. I amaze myself at how much I can fit neatly and safely in a box and suitcase. I impress myself with my organizational mind, my strategic process in figuring it all out. I've enjoyed playing that role of, "Mom - you know - she's the one who packs the suitcases which Dad loads into the car." I love taking care of my husband and child that way.
I am exhausted and need a good night's sleep.
Happy Birthday Gal.
And almost happy birthday to my blog, which I started a year ago tomorrow.
Here's to another amazing year.