“I’m like a shark. I’ve got to be constantly moving.” –American country music singer, songwriter, and record producer, Kenny Chesney.

Yesterday I submitted a change of address form at the post office. That’s my way of saying our marriage is still moving, and also why it’s been quiet on the blog front.

I packed my office and clothing during July, moving bit by bit each day. It was easy because our new rental house is only five minutes away from the old one. Seriously. (There really was a good reason to move–several, in fact.)

Anyway, despite my piecemeal work, it took a village to actually get the job done at the beginning of this month: two men one day to pack everything I had not, and five men for ten hours the next day. I had a meltdown at nine p.m. when I realized not all the boxes were going to be unpacked and folded up neatly to be carted away by the movers.

What was I thinking???

Even my husband acknowledged this was the hardest move ever, in part because all those tidy little boxes that had remained taped for years in various garages and storage units on one side of the Atlantic or the other were finally opened.

I needed some goof-off reading to see me through, so when I fell into bed  exhausted each night I didn’t have to deal with serious literature (sorry, Faulkner). I found it in escapist books by Joanne Pence, Jaden Skye, Marie Bostwick, and Elizabeth Sims. Thank you all for helping me keep my sanity. Kind of.

A month later, pictures are hung, books on shelves, dresses lined up neatly in the closet. Time to breathe, time to write again, and maybe even time to hit the beach. Carson’s been asking.

Carson at Beach 2

On another note, A Movable Marriage was bumped to Finalist position in the Florida Writers Association’s Royal Palm Literary Award Competition. You can get your copy at www.triciapimental.com.

Thanks for reading. See you soon!