i just spent 4 days in CA rearranging furniture between two homes 70 miles apart. the transfer involved a monstrous SUV in which we fit a surprising amount of stuff, one very controlled trip to ikea, two house cleaning bills (bc two homes) and one mother, sent from exotic places south to help me.
i need my mom for many things, but never more than when i am moving. faced with two large bookcases and 10 empty boxes, i will tend to sit down and start thumbing through the books. the process will take days. with taskmaster mom at my side, it is done in less than an hour. ditto the large monstrous desk (inherited from my great grandfather) – which was used as a mailing station and liquor cabinet. without my mom i’d probably still be sitting at that desk now, wondering what to do with that box of paper clips, that almost empty bottle of knob creek.
we shlepped SO much stuff along the california freeways and still we managed to do some serious damage at the mall, have the best sushi i’ve had in a long time, and eat some pretty fabulous breakfasts at my neighborhood hang outs.
top experience definitely goes to my nearest starbucks – did you know strabucks no serves breakfast? and not a bad one? i know i know – i’ve been in small town oregon for too long… my mother ate her oatmeal with her eyes moving in all directions, trying to take in each scene as it developped. the tatooed guy, the two skinny guys, the big buff bald guy, the guy with the teeny dog, the one with the huge dog. it’s not hat she’s not used to the diversity, but at 8am in the morning, even i have to admit that there was an lot going on.
and there she sat, all of 102 pounds, in her jeans skirt and hip white converse sneakers, eating her oatmeal with a plastic spoon, taking it all in.