Transitions

It's nice and quiet here this morning. The Spousal Unit and Noddie have gone to the hardware shop to get some new toilets (or I think that's what they said). It's cooler today, thank goodness. We were staying cheerful in the heat, of course - we're lucky, we have air-conditioning - but getting really tired. There's been a lot going on.
J's nanna's funeral was on Friday. She was 91 and I didn't know her very well, but it was a sad day.
1. If your mother was a member of a church for fifty-four years, refusing to have a religious service because you're "not comfortable with religion" is LAME. It's not about you. ( J's parents were not involved in this decision, btw)
2. Having the funeral on the other side of the city, effectively preventing her church friends from attending, is thoughtless at the very least.
3. I've told J that, should I predecease him, no-one involved in the service is to have fascinatingly elaborate hair, and if there are any Helen Steiner Rice poems read, I will come back and haunt him. No offence, they're just not my taste.
4. If you were forced to pick, a stinking hot day for a funeral is better than a rainy day.
5. A summer funeral is a wardrobe challenge, but if you could wear an outfit to a nightclub, it's not appropriate for a funeral. We know you're young and hot, but once again, it's not about you.
6. The nasty remarks you make about your nephew's wife organising a service at your mother's church for her friends after the interment will be repeated back to her. She will think you are sad. But every single member of the family showing up to that service was a Good Thing. Very well played.
7. Funerals make people go a bit mental. J's family are really a very nice lot.
We are in a world of boxes, paper, tape and permanent markers at the moment. When Noddie bounces into our room each morning at WTFtimeisit o'clock and announces how many days it is until the moving truck comes (today, Sunday, four), we cringe. Still, we're muddling through.
1. PMS is a bitch and a master of totally wrong and unfair timing. At least I know why no carb in the house has been safe.
2. Champagne might not be the answer, but it helps pass the time until you work it out. I am trying my best to be sensible, but looking forward to being settled again so I can work on my dysfunctional coping strategies.
3. The week before you move 300km IS the best time to get back into a daily exercise habit. It's been hard at times - and MASSIVE THANKS to our darling neighbour for minding Noddie while I went for a run - but I've felt so much better for it.
4. Pack the scales early. You don't need to be thinking about how lardy you've accidentally become.
5. Things pass. Gloom passes, feeling overwhelmed and unsupported passes. Accepting and naming and sitting with the feelings, challenging irrational thoughts - it works. As does just getting on with it. A packed box is a beautiful thing. Anger passes. Biting my tongue is a gift to myself as well as the Spousal Unit.
6. You can't take too much Rescue Remedy. Trust me, I'd know if you could.
7. I don't know how people move house when there's no sport on TV.
8. Noddie and the Spousal Unit are cool and I'm lucky to have them.
9. This, the only un-wrapped picture left in the house, is our motto for the move.
10. New shoes fix everything.
More anon, my lovelies! See you on the other side of the state!