I've lived a lot of places. All in the U.S. but still I've gotten around. I just had to get a new driver's license and for the first time ever they asked for all the states I'd ever had a license in before. I asked, "In order? and does it matter the number of times in each state?"  They were not amused. I thought it was a valid question. I could rant here about needing an additional 4 forms of i.d. 2 proofs of address, ss number and then they wanted a certified copy of my marriage license when they had all the documentation before them that I have never changed my name but that's for another day. Today I'm going to invite you to join me on a true adventure. And with any good adventure you need to know why.

So I've moved a lot. I'm really not the wandering type. I would have been perfectly happy living my days out in Florida enjoying the more relaxed casual life there. I like beaches and swamps and open water. I love storms that only last 5 minutes and sunsets that take your breath away. But my family moved. I managed to get back to Florida for college (Go Gators!) but then (there is ALWAYS a recession when me or mine graduate) I could only find work in Atlanta. I married my Gator sweetheart and we were off following his career across the country. My career did not survive moving every nine months so I did the reasonable thing and got pregnant. So between the four of us we have three corners of the country covered as birth places. Sorry Maine. Each time we moved I hunkered down and did what I could to anchor us. I look back at that expended energy and cringe. I should have conserved more. So as these things work out (another recession) I ended up back near family in the SE. I got to raise my two kids in a great area with good schools without moving them around. They got to belong somewhere. They were close to family. My husband was still traveling all the time but I actually was somewhere long enough that it was ok to invite me and not expect him to come along. BTW churches do not have sunday school classes for married but alone on Sundays people. That should be changed. (another rant for another day).

My daughter grew up to be scary smart and headed off to college to become an engineer. My son grew up and became a football player. This was especially cool because my father played. Then he became Center (just like my father) and then one of the captains (you get the drift) and they became very close. A good thing because the tides of change came and we were suddenly heading to Phoenix, AZ. I'd like to emphatically point out that this was BEFORE the housing  bubble burst. So I was checking out schools and house hunting (which I hate!) and realizing for 1.6 million I could buy a cute little 2 bedroom 1 bath in the only school district that even offered the advanced math classes we would be leaving. Yes my son is that bizarre exception to the rule that big and burly means dumb. So I opted to stay with him in GA to finish up HS and get recruited to play football at Ivys and have the HS experience he deserved for all his hard work.  And actually it worked because then the recession hit and the housing prices crashed and we would have been upside down on any mortgage we had taken out FOREVER. OK The background stuff is almost over.

So even with my husband flying in for as many games as possible it was my father who sat with me for most of the games. Totally enjoying himself. And then he up and died on us. It was horrible to say the least. Then there was graduation. Sending the last child off to college. Selling the house they grew up in and heading to Arizona. The common consensus was that I should go there to die. Its what people do. Perfectly sane rational older people than I suggested this. Buy in a 55 and older community, make friends, wither away. Downsize. Very popular term with people living in McMansions.

So combine grief, empty nest syndrome, moving and well you get the picture. And then the husband totally blows off the 25th wedding anniversary. The dog almost dies. And drum roll please...I turn 50 and the only gift I receive is a set of 'The Biggest Loser" adjustable dumb bells. I know because it came from Amazon and said so in large pink and black lettering. And now you have a mental image of me which is totally inaccurate. I'm not over weight or unfit. I was actually a house painter (faux and murals) before the move and spent quite a bit of my time on ladders and scaffolding so it made no sense. The husband was not to blame he simply once again opted out but did manage to jump into the car with me as I headed out to Sedona to commune with the vortexes before I killed something.

So I spent 2 years in Phoenix doing absolutely nothing. Ok I painted the house we bought, landscaped the yard, planted a garden (btw you can't grow tomatoes there) and read books. I tried jewelry making because they have a great mineral/ rock show annually in Tucson. You're thinking "get a job." But I don't speak spanish and Phoenix doesn't even want volunteers at this point, they just want money.

And then....my husband's company expands and he'll be spending at least 50% of his time in Wisconsin. So let me do the math. I will now be alone in hell except for 10 days a month between the hours of 6 and 8. Well something had to give. And this time FINALLY it was the husband. No I didn't get rid of him, heck I've spent the last 27 years fixing him. Nope, I made him buy me a farm.