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I've Been Pigged!

By: Karen J. Allen
Co-Publisher, On the Gay Horizon
 

For those of you who require a translation, being "pigged" means that I am now an official card-carrying shopper at the Piggly Wiggly. Since the last time we talked, I sold my house, packed up all my belongings and moved to Charleston!

The actual 1,100 mile journey with two yowling cats has thankfully faded to a blur. I think that is often the case with severe traumatic experiences. I’m still exhausted, nowhere near unpacked, clueless as to how to fit my stuff into half the square footage it came out of --- and thrilled to be here!

I can’t believe I really did it!

I do want to apologize for the lapse in the newsletters. I’m pretty sure you will all understand --- there just weren’t enough hours in the days or the slightest bit of energy to spare.

But! We’re back!

I have lots to tell you about this relocation --- the leaving and the starting over. And there is much going on in the world. From the horrendous attacks in Tel Aviv to the idiocy of the former governor of our 49th state (that provision in the proposed health care plan that Palin is attacking is extremely important to us baby boomers). So look for us in your inbox each week.

Before I sign off I will tell you that I learned quite a bit in this process. Some things more useful than others. For instance, am I the only one on the planet that didn’t know there is a little sliding tray under the toaster? Just sort of fell out when I was putting it in a box. I always turned it upside-down and shook it which was kind of a pain. Who knew? This will be much easier! And, here’s a tip for you --- always empty the 3-hole punch before you pack it. I’ll be finding those little dots for the rest of my life.

I also re-learned something. I’ve been fortunate to have had experiences where time was finite. College dorm life, the military, living on a steamboat on the Mississippi River --- each of these were environments where you were keenly aware that the time you had with the people around you was limited. Connections were faster and deeper. People took each other for granted far less. I loved those periods!  That same dynamic kicks in at times like my last few weeks in Houston. It seems a shame that it takes something like leaving to induce people to express how much they care.  

I'd like to think it doesn’t have to be that way. I'll let you know how it goes as I try to hang on to that awarness in this next chapter.....

 

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