Deep, deep denial

So, we have a bit over 4 weeks left to dismantle our entire existence and move our family cross-country -- and then overseas.  I have a staggering amount of stuff to do. I've been in this house for 8.5 years and in this city for most of my life.  Instead of inventorying my belongings, gathering doctor records and photocopying stuff (owning lots of paper appears to be essential for foreign service personnel), I am wandering about drinking coffee and blogging.  Honestly, both Mr. Nomad and I are preternaturally calm.  I think the reality is slow to dawn.  We have wanted this job -- and this life for our family -- for years.  It is stunning to realize that it is actually happening. Unfortunately, there isn't a ton of time to process this. In some ways this is good. Leaving so quickly is almost like ripping of a bandaid. Neither the kids or the adults have too much time to dwell on what it feels like and what it means to leave everything we've known for a very vague and unknown future.

Anyways, finding the right title for my blog seemed paramount to me and there were lots of rejections and false tries.  I think I'm there though. I first heard this Cat Stevens song when I went on a Maryknoll mission trip after high school. I spent most of that summer in Oaxaca, Mexico among Catholic nuns and former Peace Corps folks doing mission work. It was eye-opening to be in that setting and to be among people living -- and raising families -- somewhere other than the USA. 

I'll leave you with some of the things that make our imminent move seem real.  Yesterday I went grocery shopping since our cupboards were literally bare.  Most of the dairy products in the store expire AFTER we leave.  That means we are leaving soon, my friends. I also had to fight my tendencies to stock up on literally everything I buy because my kids eat things like locusts.  The second time I had to face reality was when trying to enroll the kids to start school in Virginia.  The automated enrollment form asked for two local emergency contacts. It actually wouldn't let me move on to the next registration page until I provided this information, I, of course, know nobody at all in Virginia.  I called Mr. Nomad who was also flummoxed. He suggested putting the main state number down (ring, ring, why yes Ms. Clinton there are some kids here who need a ride home from school). Ha.  A dear friend here (who is a former VA resident and still owns a home there) came to the rescue and provided me with a list of contact names and  numbers.  So, it is indeed, a wild world, but a smile and friends help a lot.