where the writers are
Jubilant July

I knew we were moving on June 30th; I knew what I was up against, sort of. The day came, along with a crew of four strong, wiry men who were related and unified in their earnestness to move everything in front of them onto a truck outside our house. Nights of cardboard dreams frazzled my brain, too many small details crowded my lists, discoveries of ancient magazines pulled me from my packing tasks. It took 3 1/2 hours for them to pack us up and drive away into the horizon. They arrived at the new place and unpacked that truck in 90 minutes. They worked efficiently, quickly, and aided by tobacco. Yowzer! Our new home had water pressure problems, sort of like having urinary tract issues, all of which we traced to tiny flow restrictors that were strangled with bits of leaves and seeds and rust. The mirrors are hung low in this new abode, meaning the previous owners were petite, and looking in them makes me feel huge and Romulan. A large number of people I know are moving, have moved, or are going to move along with us. Many friends and relatives are having health problems as the country wrings its collective hands over health care saying we can't afford to change what we have. How many times do we need to repeat the phrase about how doing the same thing over and over and expecting change is the definition of insanity? Or the definition of stupidity, or YOU fill the blank. I find myself fully aware of the fragility of life, once again, and yet the power of yanking oneself and one's family out of the home you've lived in to find a new home and new stage to live life upon can not be underestimated. Try it! Moving is terrible and wonderful, frightening and enlightening, gritty and finally empowering. I can move; I used to travel around the globe to learn new things, for god's sake, why not live many different places? And so I will. Next stop: revision of all 18 chapters, some may not even make the cut. It has to be done. The crabgrass of my novel must be weeded out. Woudln't it be great if someone created a "Round-Up" product that killed off passages of indulgent narrative writing?   Spray away needless words.