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Dear in headlights

The poor man. How many times people must say this, when thinking of Sam, having to live with this WOMAN who has these WILD IDEAS and this FIERY TEMPERAMENT. I know. What can I say? I'm a pain in the ass, and I always have been, and I continue to be. I have not mellowed with age. I'm working on it. But today, today I deserve some credit. Today I did not yell. I did not freak out. I did not melt down. I did not cry. Or swear. (well, maybe a little swearing. BUT NOT AT HIM.) I asked a simple question: "May I have the paperwork from the movers?" And he said "They didn't give me any." And I said "Well, what did you sign? Didn't they give you a copy of that?" And he said "I didn't sign anything." (this might have been when he got The Look) "What do you mean, you didn't sign anything? What did you do when you dropped off the moving pod and the trailer?" "Um, I unhooked the trailer from the
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And so it goes

We are off. In just a few weeks we leave paradise (of the Hawaiian variety) and head East. Home to New England. To an old farmhouse and a new life and a very different climate. To answer your questions: The food truck (Gypsy Maui Coffee) stays here The husband stays here too (he'll be back and forth, but based on Maui for work) The children are all coming with me and starting new schools. Yes, even Ella . We are planning to sell the Maui house We are planning to buy a house in New England I am beginning a new life - working for Sseko Designs , and looking for a job in media. I have no idea what I am doing. I have no idea why I am moving mid-winter from Maui to New England. And that, my gentle reader, is where this blog begins. Part therapy, part road map. I miss road maps.
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