I Hate Farewell Parties; (but...)

.... last evening I went to one.  My old "Just Faith" group at Trinity had a small dinner party to say goodbye to me, and I took Aunt Poo along.  It was lovely, in fact; wonderful to see those dear people gathered in one place again, and delightful to hear their kind words and good wishes.  A special gift of the evening was the fact that a couple who had become estranged from the group due to a tough misunderstanding at the end of our year together, came to the party and were welcomed, reconciled in their own hearts, and re-engaged into the friendships.  It was a nice "cap" to my process with them.

Yes, it is hard in a way to leave Santa Barbara.  Teri mentioned that my siblings must be reminded of the times they saw us packing to leave for much further distances -- the East Coast, Europe -- but I hope they (and all our friends here) know that we are not going that far away this time, and that we'll be back down here, haunting them, often enough.

Another strangely sad and moving tale

My sorting hat is wilting, folks; however,we have sorted from pillar to post, throughout this vast mobile home of ours, and I can tell you, we have it all sorted out! Today, the big Alpha School Thrift Shop truck pulled up on the lawn and took many, many things away; I can envision our old possessions gracing the homes of relentless second-hand shoppers from Goleta to Carpinteria. But at least they don't disgrace our humble home any longer.
We wake these mornings at dawn; John, who ever in the past would draw the curtains and lower the blinds at sunset, has been subconsciously forgetting to do so, these past two or three weeks. I analyzed this behavior, this morning, and came to the illumination that we are preparing for our Redwood Cottage home. The windows there have no coverings of any kind, and for good reason: the immeasurable beauty of the outdoor surroundings must no more be blocked from view than should the Venus de Milo or David sculptures be draped.
Our plan and hope (wait for it, all you "New Regime" scoffers) is that we will begin to live in tune with circadian rhythms, up there in the forest: wake at dawn, sleep when it is dark. So far, during this trial run, it has been a delightful experience. Admittedly, the sun comes through the treetops a bit later in morning, in the hilly forest country -- but whatever that glorious old sun does, we will do.
The last of our large appliances (the dishwasher that Melissa bought for us a few years ago) rolled out yesterday. No matter: there will be two or three dishwashers in the cottage kitchen -- one built in and electrified, the other two: human.

I will take this afternoon off, after all the sorting and packing of the past tiring days: a hair trim, a mani-pedi at a local spa, and some last-minute shopping.  This evening some old friends from my Trinity parish "Just Faith" experience are having a small farewell supper for me.

And soon we will be on our way.

The Beginning

Dear Ones:

Welcome to the first post regarding the life-altering transition from San Vicente Mobile Home Park in Santa Barbara CA, to Bracken Brae Country Club, Boulder Creek CA.

Moving is HELL. We thought we'd have about six months to do the triage required for such a life-changing transition; instead, the Higher Powers decided that it WILL be done, in one month (half of which I was still working at my office). Nonetheless, the attrition has been all-encompassing, and we've simplified our life down to the point that we have : no refrigerator, no laundry, no dishwasher, no dining facilities, no chairs except a couple of folding metal ones, and no mind left. We're discovering how little one needs to live -- as long as there is love ..... and we have plenty of that, not only between ourselves but from all our kids, relatives, friends, the universe, and God. (There: I said IT.)

So much as serendiptously worked for good, for us, that I stand in awe -- I have to stand, of course, there's no place to sit.
And to top things off, Niki came to town briefly yesterday, bearing Nick Cherniavsky: we scattered him along the verge of the railroad tracks outside the fence at Goleta Cemetery, where Maria is buried (we didn't dare scatter him over her grave); and then toasted him at local coffee spot, Java Station. I'd kinda like to be buried beside a railroad track myself some day, because I feel just as my dear old mother used to love to quote: "There isn't a train I wouldn't take, no matter where it's going." I think Nick felt likewise; at least that was our best guess.

So on we go: with five days left before Moving Day, I will try to keep all of you in the loop as best I can. More details to follow