Work at Warner Bros. ended a couple weeks ago. I'd have loved to finish the full season of "In the Motherhood," as would many others working on the show, but it wasn't in the network tarot cards. I realize a lot more thought goes into a network TV schedule than just tarot cards. In fact, the other day I'm pretty sure I saw a couple of suit clad junior executives chalking off a grid in the parking lot at ABC before the upfronts. An, apparently, more senior executive was leading a cow in their direction, which evidently had some tough decisions ahead of it. Later that day I drove past again and saw the same two junior execs with a shovel and a broom -- and smugly satisfied looks on their faces. Last seasons' TV divining rod was retired for obvious reasons.
Even with the extra time off to prep, I'm not sure that the list of things to do is getting any shorter as June 22 nears. It's like that bowl of spaghetti when you're a kid -- it seems to grow as you eat. By the end of dinner you're stuffed and staring at a full bowl of spaghetti. Your mom says something about you not being very hungry and you wanna scream, "I just ate spaghetti non-stop for an hour, it's not my fault the bowl still looks full!"
While the list does feel like it's getting longer instead of shorter, things are happening. Yesterday we looked out the window and saw a man putting a for rent sign in the front yard. Today I saw people driving slowly past the house writing down the Realtor's phone number. I wish I could help pick the new tenants. The house has been nice to us and I'd like to return the favor. But, I know it's not up to me.
We're still selling stuff on Craigs List and piling things in the car for a charity garage sale. Anytime friends come to visit, we say things like, "Take the fondue pot home with you, we'll throw in the unopened five gallon jug of Costco Mazola," or, "Are you sure you wouldn't like an armoire... and a minivan?" No one leaves our house without an armload of books. This morning we sold the kids' bunk bed right out from under them. Literally. I had to wake Owen up so that I could take it apart. They get to "camp" in their room for the next month. There's a dumpster in the driveway and a portable Public Storage cube coming tomorrow. I have more good-bye get togethers, that I really want to make happen, than I have days left.
I've spent hours online researching European mobile phone plans, train schedules, counting to ten in Serbian and purchasing/leasing/renting/stealing a car. I saw Brenna's fist clinch, and she got that Clint Eastwood squint in her eye when I said, "Hey, instead of leasing a car, why don't we ship ours to Europe? I hear it doesn't cost much. Then all we have to do is change the tail lights, install rear fog lamps, maybe a new speedometer. Figure out taxes, insurance, license plates..." I wonder why my bowl of spaghetti never gets any smaller?