Move Over Life

Photo by João Paulo Alves

A month!  Over a month, in truth.  Oh, this will never do.  I must do better in keeping my blog updated.  And to think, just before I fell completely silent for a month, I was working on a plan for revamping the old blog (over a year now I've been prattling on and you've been reading - have I told you how much I love you?) and keeping it fresh.  The best laid plans of mice and men . . .

So, update time.  The writing workshop was great and helped me revitalize my creativity.  Since then, I've finished my manuscript and the revisions.  I've also sent it to a publisher through a very helpful connection. Next step, get that agent.  Which means that I have to seriously write the query letter.  Strange that the idea of writing a novel isn't scary, but composing a three paragraph business letter has me frozen in my tracks.  That's the goal for this week though.

Writing life is moving along nicely, and strangely enough, it seems my entire life will be moving, too.  To Indiana.  It's cold in Indiana.  I've already picked out my very warm, full-length puffy coat.  I don't like cold, which is unfortunate because I'm cold natured and get a chill here in the South when someone turns the ceiling fan to "high".  My kids think it is hilarious that I'm going to be the Michelin Mom come next winter.  Ah, kids!

Moving means getting the house ready.  Which, I've learned, means making it look like paper dolls live here.  Nothing out of place, no clutter, no personal touches, all very sterile and perfect and oh-don't-you-want-to-live-here-ish.  Hubby has already started the job in Indiana, so I've got to sell this house so we can all be together because let's face it, he doesn't do alone-time so well and I didn't sign up for single parenthood.

My first project was decluttering the downstairs closets.  Part of me loves the look of my closets without all the stuff crammed in them.  Paper dolls' clothes fit so much more neatly in closets than do those of real people.  I walk in the closets and pirouette and think to myself - All this space!  Just think what I could fit in here!  But then another part of me just wants to wrap myself in all my stuff and stay buried at the bottom of the closet where no one can find me.

Most days now, you'll find me rearranging my home to its paper doll family specifications.  Bookshelves cleared of books.  Apparently, paper dolls aren't big readers.  Rooms rearranged with as little furniture as possible.  Sitting creases the paper joints in a most unflattering way.  Walls and woodwork freshly painted.  Everything in its perfect little place.  I always thought I would love to live in perfection, but the closer the place gets, the less like home it really feels.

Sometimes I have to push off the feeling that I might want my new house to be just as clutter free as this paper doll house I'm creating.

But, I remind myself that I want the new place to be a home.  That means clutter, and shelves full of my favorite things and toys that sometimes spill out of place and clothes in the closets and life pushing the seams and threatening at every moment to spill out and overtake you.  Paper dolls tear too easily for all of that, but not me.  Not my family.  We're made of heartier stuff.

So what if I can't put a full symphony in my pantry?  In my home, I always have plenty of food and love to share.  Seems like it makes better sense to keep my shelves full of that which sustains our lives than a symphony string section, no matter how much I love the cello.