Monday, June 6, 2011
"Strangers are exciting. Their mystery never ends, but there's nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends."-Ani DiFranco
Our move has gone very well. We made the drive quicker than expected without any loss of life or limb (or sanity). We moved into the house without a hitch. The movers delivered all our items in one piece (for the most part). Our neighbors are very nice. The kids made instant friends. I'm finding my way around the area a bit. I like the house. Painting is taking longer than I'd like, but we're getting there.
My only problem has been friends. We've met some wonderful people out here including a few I'm sure will become great friends in time. Still, everyone is busy with their own lives, so I haven't been able to spend real time with any of them.
Everything around here reminds me of the friends I left behind. I unpack boxes given to me by friends. I unpack the dragonfly yard ornament one friend gave me before she moved. My husband sees a huge box from the attic and asks, "How the hell did you get that down," to which I reply, "I didn't. I, however, have awesome friends who did." I miss them. I get the urge to call someone up to go thrift store shopping or to ask who wants to go to the zoo with us. Then I remember that, #1. I don't know where the thrift stores are, #2. I have no one to go with me, #3. We don't have a zoo here. #4. The friends who would have gone with me live in another state.
Pardon me while I pout. (foot stomp, hands on hips) I miss my friends.