Sunday, August 6, 2017

A month of lasts

"A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together."

I think I'm done making beads in Texas.

It's not inevitable yet. I haven't unhooked the torch or unplugged the kiln yet.

But the glass is 99 percent packed. The tools are 90 percent packed.

The mandrels, however, are 100 percent packed, so I might as well face the music.

I haven't put my Etsy shops in vacation mode yet, although I've drafted the announcement. I'm still listing beads on Facebook, and selling a few too. I have almost 20 bubble mailers left plus some small shipping boxes.

Every day, I'm making some progress packing, probably not enough, but at least some, so the last-minute push will be slightly less frenetic. That's my hope anyway.

I'm trying to have a good attitude. What's the worst that could happen? I don't get it all done and we have to pay someone to finish it up?

More likely, Neil will jump in at some point and start tossing things in boxes.

He's already done that.
Neil, where's my grapefruit knife?

I packed it.

So what am I supposed to do with the three grapefruit we bought?
And so on and so forth.

It's a month of lasts. My dentist asked what I'd been up to this summer. Packing I said. She had me address a six-month reminder postcard anyway. I used our North Carolina address.

My hairdresser puddled up when I said goodbye. She's known for a while that August was going to be my last appointment. For ten years I've had a standing appointment on the first Thursday of every month. She said she still had my September appointment booked, just in case.

Last weekend I said goodbye to two of my oldest friends. We've been leaving for so long now, it's almost anti-climactic. I told them we were moving at a party last Labor Day. And now we are moving on Labor Day weekend.

My bead friends had a little potluck for me, also last weekend.

I've been oddly unemotional at these goodbyes. I expected to break down, but the only time I really cried was when I told my housekeeper many months ago, when Neil started boxing things. It was during my spell of blue monsoons. It's hard to believe, but I started feeling better just after that and have stayed OK despite fully expecting to sink again.

I'm not sad now. It all feels a little unreal. I feel detached. Once in a while it's scary how detached I feel.

Another one of my college classmates died. I'd lost touch with her, but I was very fond of her in college. It seems so arbitrary, how some people get just 60 years of life while others like my mom and dad get/got 90. It's a regular thing now, thanks to Facebook, that I hear about my high school and college classmates passing away. Many I barely knew or I don't remember, but it makes me conscious of my mortality and aware of how lucky I've been. I am.

It's not just deaths. The other big one is cancer diagnoses. I know so many who are survivors, who are fighting now, or who have a partner who is in the heat of battle.

It puts things into perspective. I won't grieve this move if I can help it. I know I don't get to choose.

Now that I'm not torching, I'm making respectable daily strides with packing. I'm so over it though.
Why does it take so long, I wail.

If we move again, let's hire someone to pack, I complain.

A month from now, we'll be living in North Carolina, I fret.
At this point, I'm ready to be there and done.

In the meantime, I pack and I watch crime drama and nature shows and investigative reports, anything that keeps my interest and numbs my anxious brain

Right now we are finishing the last season of Ashes to Ashes, I'm walking on the treadmill to a dark Icelandic drama, Case, and I've started series two of the original Danish version of The Killing, Forbrydelsen.

I loved The Killing so much, as you may (or may not) remember. Ever since I watched it, two years ago, I've wanted to see the Danish version that inspired it.

I'm enjoying Forbrydelsen, (literally, The Crime), although not as much as the American remake. The first season closely tracked the general story line, with a few significant changes (insert spoiler alert).

One big change was the identity of the person who committed the crime. The Danish version is simpler and I have to admit, the complexities of the American plot made the story line more gripping. The Danish version stops with one of the more obvious perpetrators. In the American version, the guilty party came as a truly chilling surprise. The character exists in the Danish version but her roles is never pivotal.

The bigger disappointment to me was how the Danish version handled the second banana. In the American version, it is the dynamic between the two detectives that works so well to make the show special. I liked the supporting Danish detective very much, even though he was a solid citizen, a married man with children instead of a recovering meth addict with relationship issues. The growing trust between the duo rings beautifully authentic in both shows, but then the Danish sidekick is shot and pronounced dead in the penultimate episode of the first series of Forbrydelsen.

As a result I expect the plot line to deviate completely in the last two series of the Danish drama, which is probably a good thing as I can enjoy them for whatever they are and not in contrast to the bolder, more complex and compelling American series.

And as much as I love the characters of Sara Lund/Sarah Linden, and will miss the character of Jan Meyer, I'm quite happy to be finished with the politicians who were fairly faithfully mirrored in each version, and almost equally annoying.

Next up in the queue, new episodes of Hinterland on Netflix, a new season of Endeavor on PBS, and the complete original series of Prime Suspect on DVD.

Who needs drugs when you can have Richard Harrington, Sean Evans and Helen Mirren, all in the comfort of your own home or hotel room.

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven.

(Words From the Book of Ecclesiastes, adaptation by Pete Seeger)

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Thanks for your comment! I will post it as soon as I receive it. Liz