How much does your history weigh?

Odd thing to realize that all of our worldly possessions need to be whittled down to 1000 pounds of air freight and a 200 dollar a month storage space.  In case that seems like a lot, it's not.  Trust me on this.  We, like most people, have way more stuff than we need/want/realized we had.  Some of it is really hard to part with, some of it I can't believe we've had this long.  There is a mental toll in simply having things.  You have to tidy them, or dust them, or just use energy and time figuring out where to put them and where they are should you actually want to find them again.  Ahh, how much better simply to not have the stuff in the first place.

But then I think of heirlooms and how few of them I really have.  Does that matter?  Do I and my family have a less than rich history because we don't have belongings attached to that history?  Weighty matters folks, weighty matters.  About 1000 pounds worth to be exact.

And I will leave you with this last thought: in Ireland a boot is the trunk of a car and a fanny is not a person's backside, it is "lady parts".  If I misuse the first one, people might be confused.  If I misuse the second, people will be offended.  I'll need to learn this stuff soon.

63 days and counting

It is a strange feeling to know that our lives are going to be moved to a place that is almost entirely unfamiliar to us.  On the one hand I'm looking forward to seeing our country from the outside for the first time.  It will give us all a perspective that not everyone in the U.S. has the chance to gain.  We will likely learn to appreciate some of the things that we have here, particularly here in Portland that we have taken for granted up until now.  For instance, just the other evening I had the chance to see a world class symphony performance and I could afford both the tickets and the parking.  Will that be possible in Dublin?

On the other hand I'm dreading some of the little things.  I worry about driving on the wrong side of the road and on the wrong side of the car.  I worry about crossing streets and looking for cars coming from the wrong direction.  I worry that I won't be able to find the grocery store, fit our laundry in the Lilliputian sized washing machines (that generally reside in the kitchen), or find my favorite toothpaste.  In short I'm worried about the stupid stuff.

But I'm also worried that our children will feel isolated, out of step and unwelcome.  So, I'm faking it.  Because that is what a good mom does- worry and pretend not to.  So, I'm telling you that I'm scared out of my mind, but just don't tell anyone that I said so.

I know that in the long run this will be a fantastic opportunity for everyone in our family.  But it's not the long run that worries me.  It's the little stuff.  And the not-so-little stuff.  It's the short term that's keeping me up at night.  But, with just 63 days to go, the short term gets shorter every day and soon we will be there, settled and LIVING IN IRELAND.  So, short term be damned - bring on the experience!

got to stop spending our days having fun
it is time to start getting shit done