Moving observations
Annie & Alison Newsletter #22
We moved to Chicago last weekend! Our sixth cross-country move in four years. Illinois –> California –> Illinois –> California –> Texas –> Minnesota –> Illinois
Rather than let the moves go by in a chaotic blur (which definitely happens to some degree), I try to notice things. I’ve observed the transitions with both wonder and scrutiny. Here a few of my personal observations of moving:
Never show up on move day without a sharpie.
I forget how much stuff I have until I pack. What I think will be just a kitchen with some dishes, a closet with clothes, and a few pieces of furniture always turns into a literal ocean of random objects I forgot I owned and haven’t used in over a year. And yet, somehow, I’m still able to rationalize to myself why I shouldn’t get rid of these unused things. I believe myself when I say that they absolutely must come with me to the next destination so they can spend another year in a different closet. Every. Single. Time.
There are two ways to look at cleaning an oven. A walk down memory lane through layers of grease, or War. To me, it’s war. A battle of wills. Who can outlast the other — Team Baked on Grime or Team Annie + Baking Soda? The battle typically lasts a good 2 hours before I reluctantly wave the white flag and cry, “Just fine me $50 already, Apartment Association. I give up!”
My stuff is just “stuff” to everyone but me. Admittedly, I attach too much emotional weight to my possessions. I tend to hold onto things because donating them feels like I’m also donating all the associated memories. Which drives Jordan crazy. We just hired movers for the first time to do the packing. The whole thing was miraculously efficient and surprisingly jarring. As I watched them carelessly plop my possessions into boxes without really looking at them or showing an ounce of concern about what they might mean to me, I felt silly. At the end of the day, it’s all just a bunch of stuff.
On that note, remind me why we own so many coffee mugs?
When a big event is about to take place, my brain autonomously decides it can’t process emotions until later. All of my energy is focused on getting from Point A to Point B. Even if I wanted to grieve before or in the middle of the move, I’m simply incapable. Then, once we’ve unpacked boxes, my heart will catch up with what just happened. The loss hits afterward.
empty MN apartment I can’t count the amount of times I’ve heard: “Wow, what a great opportunity to see the country!” or “Sounds like a grand adventure!” and “What perfect timing – before you have kids!” My response always includes, “yes, and.” Yes, we’ve made wonderful memories. I’ve done my best to enjoy each city, each community, each culture. And talk about incredible food! Places like Daughter Thai in Oakland, Blacksmith and Hugo’s in Houston, La Taqueria in San Francisco, Hai Hai in Minneapolis. And, when I can’t establish roots, I feel displaced. Regardless of the positives of living in each city, there’s always the knowledge that we’re leaving again. All of it is temporary.
Now, for the first time in four years, we don’t have plans to go somewhere else. We can stay in Chicago as long as we please. Our next step is deliciously ambiguous. And with ambiguity, comes freedom. Now that’s something to celebrate!
This week’s reviewed recipe round-up includes:
133 recipes cooked, 92 to go.
During this week of cooking…
I learned… that lemon juice and a dash of fish sauce (yes, fish sauce) are all that’s needed to make seemingly flavorless summer squash taste irresistibly fresh. A sprinkling of parmesan, chives, basil, and toasted pistachios don’t hurt either. Alison’s summer squash is sure to become a summer go-to for me.
I listened… to season 2 of a podcast called “Slow Burn” on my drive from Minneapolis to Chicago. The series took a deep dive into the scandals that led to Clinton’s impeachment and also tried to explain how that event contributed to today’s climate of partisan politics. Excellent journalism, though at times heavily slanted. Still, I’d recommend it.
I read… a NYT article by Tish Harrison Warren called “Isn’t this supposed to be over now?” Warren speaks of the “false hopes” we were fed when the pandemic seemed close to ending, and how to face the fatigue we feel as it still rages on. I deeply admire Warren’s other writings, and wholeheartedly recommend her book, Liturgy of the Ordinary.
xo,
Annie
