How can I possibly summarize?

I am feeling a little bit like ChaCha at the moment cause I got the blogger guilt. There is so much to write, but I have no time, and I'm kinda tired of being Debbie Downer. But in the interest of taking notes and letting those yearning to catch up on what the Diva is doing here goes nothing.

Well, I received an offer on the house on November 13th, finaled the contract on the 24th and closed on the 25th. I didn't dare pack before the closing because I really thought the whole damn thing was going to crash and burn. So, I ran around Wednesday like a mad thing closing, and then trying to take care of the deposit for the rental house (that was a nightmare in and of itself) The movers come Dec 1 and I have to be totally out by the 5th. My head is still spinning.

The buyer, aka the haggler, was a total pain. Feel free to guess why.

The house is almost totally packed, although I haven't taken care of the garage which I'm going to regret. I have book club tomorrow night (did I mention that I haven't read the book and that I'm leading the discussion? Yeah, good times.) So, it looks like I will be packing the garage Tuesday morning, as the movers are packing the house.

I have packed all of my eating utensils including the plastic stuff that I can't find because I packed it, realized I'm an idiot and then couldn't find the box. Shit, shit, shit.

I have a nasty rash on my right shoulder that friends have said is a stress rash. Would really like to get rid of that!

The crayon box (as I fondly refer to the new place) is going to need a new name soon. The lavender bedroom, microsoft blue bedroom and lime green bathroom have all been painted, thank you with my whole heart to K who helped me paint. The crayon red wall downstairs will be painted soon too. By next Sunday it will no longer look like a clown threw up in there. Go team.

The place is a lot smaller than the current residence, so I have been desperately trying to sell stuff on Craig's list. I've sold some stuff, but it would be really nice to sell a few more pieces. Money in the pocket, baby.

My back is throbbing, and I hurt in parts of my body that I didn't know could hurt. In fact, I am feeling very very old and trying not to hobble as I walk.

So, off to work tomorrow to finalize a few things while I pretend to actually do my job, ha ha ha and then off for two days to get myself moved.

So, I am terribly sad about leaving my house and my friends, but I know it is the right thing to do. I am changing my life, and this is the first step. I know it is going to be an uphill battle, and almost NO ONE believes in me, but I believe in me. . . and that is all that really matters.

poetry

Our school has this really cool Literary Festival that we have every year. A different author is invited to speak to the students and then we have a day of workshops and stuff. This year our invitee is Billy Collins.

We had a poetry reading at the local library tonight in conjunction with the book club I am in. It was really great. I definitely like his poetry. It struck my poetic fancy, so here it goes.

I plop myself down on the leather chair,
dark and soft, bought with money I didn't have.
The dogs enter momentarily searching
for what will be the perfect spot tonight.

I could return the call of the man I haven't actually met yet,
but who will be asking me to spend
another couple of hours buffing, plucking and powdering in an effort to impress him
(whether he realizes that this is part of the request I don't know.)

Perhaps I will light up the wall with the flickering lights of the TV
allowing myself to be pulled into another world
of laughter, embarrassment and long looks.
Oh, to be in a world where everything is resolved in 24 minutes or even 47.

The thought of doing anything more
than snuggling down into the chair
waiting for Buddy to leap upon me
is more than I can bear this evening.

This one is for Cha Cha

We have never met
but I feel a kindred soul
as we find ourselves swirling in the amusement park cesspool
of dating and lost loves.

Our standards are like the signs in front of roller coasters
demanding that the participants reach a minimum height before entering
Sadly, there are many not quite there
and others trying to convince the ride master
that they meet the requirements
without it actually being true.

Some nights it is like being in the fun house.
It starts out fun to see ourselves bizarrely skinny or strangely squat
but if we aren't careful the reflection becomes more true to life
than the mirrors we keep at home.

Other nights we find ourselves in the giant teacups
swirling around in circles feeling sick to our stomach
wondering why our memories of the teacup seem
so much better than the reality.

We eyeball the ride at the far end, there seems to be a line
It's called the Tunnel of Love
That's the one we want to ride
So many people already in line
Why must we wait?

But then we remember
to be alone in the dark
with someone who isn't The ONE
is like choosing the perfect pair of jeans to wear to the park.
We want the perfect dark blue pair that makes us look really thin
BUT UNFORTUNATELY CUTS OFF OUR ABILITY TO BREATH.

Why do we do that? Choose the pair that we know we will regret wearing?
It's better to wait for the perfect dark blue pair of jeans that make us look really thin, feel really thin AND allow us to take in great big lung filling breaths of air.
It makes the entire park experience a lot more fun.

Book Club

So, I don't think I've managed to sit down and discuss my second book club. I love this book club. Mainly it involves choosing a spot around town and then chatting it up with my three friends, k,h and kt. Henceforth to be referred to as hekkt (heck book club : ) As you can see, this is a more relaxed book club than the one with the Park Cities moms. We don't meet again for two weeks, but I came across this picture with KT and I thought I would add a note.