about a gazillion things i want to write right now, but the only one i can get out is:
i'm tired.

i'm looking forward to weekends and evenings that don't involve carting around the ever-decreasing bundles of items i own, repacking boxes, finding mold, carrying the same heavy table up and down stairs, you get my point. i will, however, miss jumping in and out of the back of (my) pick-up truck. i can't wait for cooking big meals and reading and listening to npr while drinking tea and riding l'il dude and paddling and hiking and camping and taking myself of miscevious adventures after dark to learn about portland.

today i went to pick up the the true love of my life, the kayak (who, oddly enough, is still name-less), from branford and got to see joan and patrick in the process. they were kind enough to let it take up space in their yard for the months i was gone from new haven. when i pulled up to their house today my red, waterbound mode of transportation was resting on their front lawn and i was instantly giddy with excitement and happiness (and i wanted to walk it down to the beautiful branford shoreline and paddle right there, but it was cold and i am gear-less, sniff). but it was just so nice to feel her plastic-ness while lifting her back up onto the car, strapping her in, and then driving driving driving back to new haven. i got even happier when i realized this means i will get to paddle in charlotte (ok, not in the city, but in the nearby lakes) which made me laugh out loud with joy thinking about less than 7 days until paddling. whoa.

i like having toys that allow me to progress down the road of complete hermit-like nature.

i also took myself out for breakfast at the pantry, where eating alone at the counter is my favorite sunday morning sport. (i am in love with sunday morning culture.) so many people to watch. so many ex-roommates on breakfast dates to spy on, and the friendliest restraunt owners/familiar faces (not to mention the best scrambled egg-toast-homefries-bacon medley in the world). these moments of quiet contentment in new haven make me long to settle down for a while (on the horizon, but still far away feeling) and also make me (already) miss new haven in a way i didn't this summer. i like to be optimistic and believe it just makes me appreciate the city more, and able to keep the memories closer to me when i'm not here! tomorrow i'm going to walk the mill river and hike to the top of east rock for the last time. saudade.

the good part about packing and re-packing my life means i get to re-find all the trinkets that remind me of so many happy and sad and meaningful moments of the past. i found the letter the spring break vermont road trip crew of '01 wrote to the nice folks at ben & jerry's recommending some new flavors. i want to print it here, some other time. i saw pictures of 785 which brought back a feeling of home and community and being settled (and bad, dark, brown and orange interiors). graduation pictures, old prints, my paperclip collection, the glossy brochure highlighting the great living features of the house i grew up in, sally: the best dog ever, my collection of inspirational books, and the crazy feeling i get every time i move and feel the need to take with me: 50 wooden clothespins, mason jars, sea shells, un-postmarked stamps salvaged from letters i have received, the pre-established collection of birthday and greeting cards i couldn't resist but haven't found the perfect occassion for, 18 serving spoons, the growing collection of 1970's pyrex kitchenware, piles of quotes torn from pages and letters and posters and advertisements. the quote below is my favorite. i received it in an e-mail when i was 15, and it instantly propelled me to dream of adventures i knew i wanted to take in the future. i find it occassionally (usually when moving) and smile warmly as i think just how much bigger my backyard has become each time i read it:

"for once, go too far;
till home is 4 hills, 2 mountains and a nice oak forest away.
till the shoreline is a tiny row of fuzzy peaks.
till the ground is way way way the hell down there.
you won't be stuck, your body is good for this sort of thing.
let it climb, paddle, break into a jog, get into a rhythm
and while it's at it, yodel.
fear will give way to wonder,
and the next time you reach that point,
you can look back and say to yourself:
hell, i'm barely out of the backyard."
(author unknown)