Packing and Moving and Going Back

 Moving again. Trying to figure out how to make the last ¼ cup of olive oil last two weeks, how to not buy anymore butter and eating oatmeal every morning. We’ve packed almost the entire kitchen but left out enough things so I can scrap together a meal. If it’s roasting vegetables, I’m doing pretty well. I do have all my pots and pans still… But without any mixing bowls or really any bowls in general it’s sort of difficult to throw anything together.

And after eating so well for the last several months, even spending two weeks on hot pockets or peanut butter sandwiches sounds pretty terrible. How did I ever eat Zone Bars or Jello Instant Pudding? I know this sounds weird, but sometimes I think I can taste the chemicals in food….

So we’re living in our barn apartment amongst the boxes of things from here and the boxes of things that we’ve taken out of the storage unit that we have had the last seven months. It has been like Christmas going through some of our old things, remembering what we’ve forgotten. I’m working on packing my bags for Texas, because I won’t need what I have been wearing here. I don’t want to see those three pair of Dickie work pants for quite awhile. I’m thrilled about terrible American things like GAP jeans, high heels, V-neck sweaters and a navy jacket from J. Crew.

Could I go back to my 9-5, 40 hour a week, vacation, sick-pay, insurance, maternity leave, “Summer Fridays” job (where I was LOVED….)? Probably. But it’s not what I’m supposed to do. There is more. Even if it requires more from me. And pushes me harder. And there isn’t sick-pay and Summer Fridays and I am not even loved….

A friend mailed me this scripture from Isaiah 43:

This is what the Lord says—he who made a way through the sea,

a path through the mighty waters, who drew out the chariots and horses,

the army and reinforcements together, and they lay there, never to rise again, extinguished, snuffed out like a wick:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”

...

This week I backed the farm truck in the tractor while out in the potato patch. In front of Farmer Thomas. And I've cried once. (not about the farm truck) But standing in the kitchen, thinking about how everyone else views these past eight months of my life. Do they all think I am slacker, a hippie, a unsocial country bumpkin who wants to be a hermit? Do they think I've wasted my time and that I'm avoiding Life. "What a waste of intelligence. What a waste of a college degree. What a waste. Poor Girl... " Because really, I feel like I AM LIVING LIFE. But I do think it's time to leave… (and really I was sort of crying because I was freezing cold, wet, crawling in-between rows of mizuna, harvesting for CSA and wanting the day to be over. So, I took five and went inside for a potty break. Just so you know, I still go to the the bathroom at work to cry...)

I haven’t cut myself with the harvest knife- which was a huge fear initially. SUCCESS! And Thomas was the only one to fall through the floor (ceiling) when we were re-insulating the barn floor (our apartment ceiling) this spring. Teetering along those beams, drill in hand- I did so well.  And Chris did take down a huge limb from a peach tree while trying to pull on it to reach the ripest peaches. “Delicate… Ornamental… Fragile trees…” Whoops. I guess we’ve all had our moments. 

I’m ready to uncover what’s next though!