Dumbo Double Dare Well Wishes

RunDisney friends, good luck to you this weekend! I will hopefully make it to the Disneyland Half next year. πŸ™‚


Summer Travels – What I’ve Learned

As most of you know, me and the munchkins traveled a heck of a lot this summer. We hit…hold on, let me count how many states…

1. North Dakota (where we started)

2. Minnesota

3. Wisconsin

4. Illinois

5. Indiana

6. Kentucky

7. Tennessee

8. Alabama

9. Florida

10. Georgia

11. Hawaii

12. Arkansas

13. Louisiana

14. Texas

15. Oklahoma

16. Kansas

17. Nebraska

18. Iowa

19. South Dakota

Holy cow. 19 states. We almost visited half of the 50 states. To say we’re exhausted, tired of the car, and relieved to finally be home is a bit of an understatement. We have definitely had an adventure. I think I can safely say that we won’t be doing it again on purpose.

What has the nomad summer taught me? A lot, actually. Since I’ve already started with the numbering business, I might as well keep it up.

1. I cannot eat healthy when I’m not at home. I don’t know why. It’s practically an impossibility. If I’m not cooking, I feel completely out of control. Unless I’m at my parents’ house, where I have no choice but to be Paleo. So I’m still out of control, just in a healthy fad kind of a way.

2. Having to do laundry in someone else’s home makes me feel like an alien. I have no idea why. I apologize to (and thank) everyone who allowed me to put our dirty underpants in your washing machines all summer long. I’m glad to be back to my own machine.

3. I do not need over half the clothes in my closet. No, really. I packed what would fit in a carry-on sized suitcase. For the entire summer. I hardly missed a thing I left behind. Some major purging is happening now, folks. I realized that if I didn’t miss it, I definitely don’t need to keep it.

4. She & Him Volume 3 puts Neely to sleep almost instantly. Every time. It’s like road trip magic.

5. Home is where your stuff is. Not that carry-on and duffle bag I hauled all over the country. My STUFF. Home is where I have piles of junk mail and catalogs accumulated on the counter. It’s where I can walk into a room and rearrange the furniture, because it’s MINE. It’s where I can sleep without pants on and roam around without a bra under my baggy tee. It’s where I have to cook and wash the dishes every day, because I am not a guest. It’s where my slippers and my bathrobe are, because they’re too big to pack. It’s where bedtime goes down like a charm, because everyone has their own room.

When I left North Dakota, I was dissatisfied. I don’t live here because I chose to, but because I was told I have to. It has taken me an incredibly long time to come to terms with that. I have never not wanted something as badly as I didn’t want to live in North Dakota. I mean, I’m from the South. Surely this can be seen as cruel and unusual punishment. And for what? I have no idea. It took leaving for a while, leaving all of our possessions behind, for me to figure out that North Dakota is, in fact, my home now. I may not love the snow, but I get to live with it. I get to sleep in my own bed here and use my own washing machine, which is a really, really good thing. πŸ™‚

I’ll be getting back to my usual-type posting very soon.