(^ Mishu in motion, in Buffalo, which is mostly stationary.)Dad and I spent the morning tying up loose ends (literally and figuratively, as Dad securely strapped down all the boxes in my shipping container), taking car loads of stuff to various donation points, and compulsively walking around a near-empty house muttering, "Did I get...? Where's the... Better double check..." Before we left, I decided my last Noho hurrah should be spending the gift certificates I've been hoarding - use it or lose it, right? So at Faces, I bought these wooden earrings which I had always pined after (ha!) and in the art supply store, I got some clay to mold a tiny figure (small, portable enough to fit her in my pocket) and a bone folder, which is Martha Stewart-level of unneccessary, but so pretty. As Garfield says in the eponymous, much-lauded (by me) Christmas Special, "Things! Stuff! Greed! Avarice! I love it." Getting something for nothing - especially tiny, precious things - was a nice goodbye from my little town. After my shopping spree, I returned to find Dad with his shirt in the freezer (he really doesn't get along well with the humidity) and we collected the cat into the car and drove off into the sunset.
The last time I left the Round House shrinking in my rearview mirror, I felt so unburdened. Two drivers, one car, one suitcase and no idea when or how I'd return? You can't get much more travel-adventure-story than that! This time, though, the Great Escape was preceded by a hell of a lot of pragmatics, logistics, and just-plain-icks. They never show those parts in the movies, do they? Our heroine in her pickup, wind in her hair and her guitar in the back, maybe a lamp leaning rakishly against a duffle bag as she leads a cloud of dust down the road... Sure. Breathtaking. Heart-lifting. But cut to a week before, our heroine (hair up) sitting diligently at her dining room table, surrounded by bubble wrap, fingers stained by Sharpie markers, scheduling the transport of the rest of everything... Never happens. Who would watch that? You can't eat popcorn to that! Ah well. Let us consign much of last week to the cutting room floor, and move on to the scenery flashing by, and the identical rest stops, and the sun arcing slowly across the sky. A much more appealing montage awaits.
See ya 'round, house.
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