I have along and complex relationship with moving. My last house - my marital homestead - I lived in 9 years, and it is the longest I've lived in a house in my entire life. Prior to that was Mt. Wolf (we called it "the white house" - it was white) on the corner of Chestnut & Third. I lived there from the time I was 2 years old till I was 8. In between those two is whirlwind of moving between 3 states 8 school districts and dorm rooms. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
I love it all. I love the concept of inventoring all your belongings - thinning out, prioritizing, being forced to decide what you really need (is this worth finding a box?). And it is always, always, a fresh start.
We've got a great place lined up. Some of the creature comforts divorce forced me to turn my back on - dishwasher, central air, etc. But also an amazing back yard, a weeping willow, a deck. It feels...like a happy place to be.
Which is funny, and telling, as I've only "been" there for a 20 minute walk through. But wow is it full of expectations already.
I love "new". I love it. I am, quite literally, addicted to it. I have my own personal New Year's Eve every 3 months, as tortured readers of my blog will attest to, and I embrace it whole-heartedly (read: drink the kool-aid) every time. And this is no different.
Its perfect. I've never fucked up in this house. I've never made a poor choice in this house, be that "one more beer" or "nap instead of run."
I know. Failure is certain - one can't set these ridiculous expectations of perfection and expect to succed. But here's the thing - I think, really, its still worth it.
I've never stuck with a new & improved lifestyle born of one of these self-indulgent re-imaginings - not in full. But...each time, I've picked up a bit of steam. The complete and utter peace I feel when I go to Zensday (DC mediation center) - its not enough to ensure I always make the two hour drive, but it doesn't render the time i DO spend there less valuable.
When Idid the food thing (Sam's first refined sugar ever was his first birthday cake, his second exposure was his second bithday cake) what did I gain? What did he gain? I can't say for sure but he likes clementines better than cookies.
True, now we eat fast food once a week. It could very well be catagorized as a failure.
But I always come back. I always strive for better.
I wonder if i can marry "everything in moderation" with "start from scratch". I'm not saying I'll quit smoking, I'm saying I don't want to be in the habit of smoking a cigarette on my deck, so if I'm desperate I'll walk around the block. I'm not saying I won't drink, but I don't want my kids to see me with a beer in my hand more than once a week (I'd go hard-core on this, but football season is right around the corner).
I don't know if I'll get anywhere. But I know I'd feel like shit if I didn't bother. I'm an oportunist, and this is an opportunity. New house, new Jeanine. Its a familiar concept but nonetheless thrilling. I don't know how to dip my toes (perhaps that's my problem?) but I know how to dive in headfirst. Sometimes it ends in a head injury, sometimes it doesn't. I'm gonna go for it.