I know it's been a while.  I keep thinking things will get better, and they only get worse.  John is here now; we're getting the house ready and the movers will come pack us up in less than a week.  Then we're moving to Texas.  I will be there for a week, then I'm going up to New England for one last brass band weekend, and then back in Texas for good.  Right now I feel a lot like that angel over there, with the broken wing.  I just can't seem to get things right these days.

I'm struggling with leaving my students, my band, my jobs and my friends.  Everyone thinks I should be delighted to be moving back in with my husband--I'm happy about that, don't get me wrong--and that I should be happy to move to a cooler city than the one where I live now.  Maybe they are putting a positive spin on things, but I hate lying to them; I don't want to say I'm happy or I'm making the best of it; hell, I'm really not.  I don't want to go.  I don't want to be unemployed and lonely.  I don't want to lie to people, so I avoid the subject.

I'm going to be leaving straight after the brass band gig in Massachusetts, and I haven't really hung out at the bar with my band friends much lately, so I doubt that there will be a party or any kind of goodbye thing.  My best friend quit the band already, and he would have been the one to arrange that.  I'm also leaving just a few weeks before my birthday...it's so unfair of me to say I want to have a party with my friends on my birthday, because I want that every year and never actually have the party.  Now I'm going to blame Texas when the truth is I would have copped out on the birthday party anyway.  I'm always afraid nobody will show up, so I talk about having a party and then I wait too long and don't do it, and say next year I'm going to have a party. Well, next year I'm not having a party.  I'm going to be in Texas.

I spent two weeks dealing with the bed bugs that I ended up getting after all.  I went on a rampage throwing out most of my clothes, furniture and a lot of books (most of it needed to be tossed anyway), cleaning, cooking my remaining clothes in the dryer, bagging everything in trash bags, and sleeping on an air mattress in the living room.  I stormed and stressed and finally remembered a thing that my Al-Anon groups used to say a lot, that they would stand inside a hula hoop and they knew that they could only control what was inside that hula hoop.  I realized I had a cell phone inside my hula hoop, and a checkbook, and so I called an exterminator.  He was wonderful.  He had me bag everything and empty the bedroom and put the cats in day care, and then he sent me out of the house for eight hours.  When I came back he had vacuumed and steamed my bed and carpets, treated the baseboards, floor, and furniture in the bedroom, and put my mattress and box spring into bugproof covers.  It doesn't mean that the bugs are 100% gone, but I'm hopeful.  I'm still checking my linens obsessively.

Tom and I went to Savannah a couple of weeks ago, taking care of a lot of the things I wanted to do before I left GA: a Sand Gnats game, Tybee Island beach, and Bonaventure Cemetery.  Last weekend, I went with him to the Highland Games at Furman University.  Took lots of photos of bagpipes and guys (and girls) throwing telephone poles, and sheep-herding dogs.  Between these things and my wrapping up work at the repair shop, I've had very few days to think or settle down.  I'm getting rid of so much junk from around the house, but there's still more junk that expands to fill the space.  Now John's here and I have to force him to get things done around the house.  Tired of being a grown-up.

I'm hoping to start another writing project once things settle down, something similar to the No Dairy month.  I might do the 30-day song challenge that's so popular on Facebook these days, only with more writing to accompany the songs.  I might use this space to explore San Antonio and Texas, and write about what happens (possible blog title: Shut Up, Texas).  I will likely be researching and buying a house, so I could write about that--or about trying to get a job.  We'll see.