far-from-home stretch

Official off-the-continent departure date is still a safe 9.2 days away, but because we need to be packed up and moved out by Thursday a.m. we're already going through the goodbye motions.
Motions such as:
putting boxes and boxes into storage
strategically consuming leftover foods according to their expiry dates
arranging goodbye lunches and coffees
bursting into tears at inconvenient moments

So seriously, how many pairs of shoes are acceptable to pack for 4 months in the UK?

Since last time, five blissful days were spent on the Island saying farewell to the Smith fam and enjoying the luxuries of Island life (cruising in the boat, mornings on the shore with a skimboard, afternoons poolside with a novel, and evenings with meals on the deck and shared childhood reference points). The trip also brought some 26th birthday treats, including season 2 of "24" (we are embarassingly behind), fresh prawns and some pretty pieces of paper with numbers on them ;)

Upon return home we've been enjoying foreign accents—both the French ones we use when discussing upcoming travel plans, and those of some guests from Aberdeen: admitted lurker, Verity, and inquisitive Greek, Manos—in town for the week, giving me a pleasant introduction to the community I'm about to launch into.


Hm. I'd foolishly thought that unemployment would result in constant blogging. au contraire—in part because i feel guilty sitting down at a computer when there are boxes to be packed, but also "Did the dishes, walked to the bank, made supper, watched LOST on DVD" is a crappy framework for dynamic story-telling.

Thank heavens for the road and how soon we'll be hitting it.

Thursday to Swift Current
Monday to Vancouver
Tuesday to Scotland
a busy week I'd say.

leisurely counting down the days to uncertainty

Car is sold. a relief. Since my feet will be my primary mode of transport for the next...hmmm, several years, I didn't feel toooo guilty spending nearly half the selling price of my car on a pair of boots (don't get in a sweat—I sold it for much less than I initially asked, to a near and dear "missionary couple").

Now that I am a "woman of leisure," as my mother calls me, I'm finding time to actually think about my writing again. My demanding social schedule, however has kept me from waxing pseudo profound in this venue, but come three weeks when my social network is cut by an ocean, you all better watch out.

Speaking of watching out, kindly note that it's my birthday this weekend. August 19. Saturday. You aren't missing a party—i'm going to the Island to usher in twenty-six with the quiet company of my parents, husband and twin sis, maybe a skimboard, and definitely a good book.

Still no luck with a flat in Aberdeen. Seems rental properties go like hotcakes over there. If you think of it, pray that we get things sorted quickly.

Lastly, Mexico, anyone?

the business of trans-atlantic moving

Countdown to Scotland move: 3 weeks.

Number of flats inquired about: ten

Number of replies from letting agents: ONE!

Level of panic in the Regier household (on a scale of one to ten): ten

Point of business:
My car is for sale. It's 1997 Geo Metro with approximately 240,000 km on it. It runs quite well, has a new clutch, fan belt, timing belt, stereo and was just tuned up. I'm selling it for a song at $1250, but if you want to buy it today I'll cut $100 off because you'll save me a month of insurance.

transitions travel in packs

to proclaim an end to an era seems so cliche, but dang it, nothing else says it as well. Essentially, i'm discovering that there is rarely such a thing as a small transition. In my world it's all or nothing.

Today was my last day of work at TWU—hands down the most transformational work environment that I may ever have. I'm ready, but I'm really nervous about the step ahead... isn't it always that way when following a lifelong desire?

I suppose, starting today, I'm a freelance writer. It may not sound that ambitious—it's certainly not a PhD, or social justice work that will effect immediate change, I'm not even setting out to write an epic novel (as many people assume when you say you write) so i'm not sure I could classify this as an art... but ever since the first time I picked up a Seventeen magazine from my elementary school library shelf I have wanted to write for one.

Thankfully my reading tastes have matured.

But add to the work-transition the following:
a trans-continental move + a new spouse + a name change (AKA my current identity crisis) + tomorrow the insurance on my little snowball (car) runs out—a reminder that I meant to sell it by now.

Being Amanda Regier really is like being a whole new person. As a result, I find myself in a state of mourning. sort of. it's not a bad thing, being this Amanda Regier person... it's just new. and welcoming in the new means kicking the old out the back door. and naturally there are moments of loss. The trade off, however, is worth it.

the wedding gallery

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