by Joey | Dec 13, 2016 | Throwback
So my friend called me last week in a bit of a panic. Without really meaning to, she and her husband sold their house and bought a new one. I’d tell you the whole story about how someone randomly showed up on their doorstep putting in an offer on their house that wasn’t for sale, but that’s not why she was panicking.
We’re going to stay with my parents for a whole week while we get the new house sorted out.
I sat on the other end of the phone confused.
Huh? I asked. Why would you do that?
Oh, you know, she said, we don’t want to live amidst the boxes and chaos.
I chuckled then realized oh wait…not everyone moves every 1.5 years. For most normal people moving is hugely stressful. The Great Unknown. It’s ranked right on up there with divorce and death of a loved one as one of life’s great stressors. Lucky for this friend (and for you, dear blog readers), I’m a right old pro.
Jonathan and I have moved five times in the last 6.5 years. We’ve got this thing down to a science. Buckle up, friends. This is going to be a long one. Go ahead and bookmark it and pin it, you’ll want to hold on to it for when life throws a move your direction.
The Great Purge.
The first thing you should do when you find out that you’re moving is a great purge. Go through your belongings room by room. Sort everything into keep, toss, donate piles. This is a great time to pull out that book everyone lost their shit about a few years ago The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Or, if you’re like me, you can just decide in the moment whether it’s really worth lugging your old high school papers around with you from house to house. Moving as frequently as we do, you start to lose attachment to unimportant things. We are far cry from living simplistically, but we’re probably one move away from not having anything left.
Keep Rooms Together.
When we moved from Athens to Charlotte, I stupidly packed all like items together. Meaning: all the bedding from our guest room and master bedroom got packed together. All the pillows from every room went into the same box. Every book we owned got put in the same box despite the room it lived in. That meant that I had items from literally all over the house in random boxes. DON’T DO THAT!
INSTEAD: PACK ONE ROOM AT A TIME AND KEEP THAT ROOM TOGETHER. Don’t worry about what makes sense to pack together. It’s okay to put the books from your nightstand in the same box as your master bedroom TV remotes. Obviously, take proper precautions. Wrap your fragile belongings and pack smart (don’t overload boxes), but stop thinking that all your books from all over the house need to be packed together.
Over-label everything!
I’m the crazy person who basically writes a novel on each box. But hey, I’ve never suffered through a move without knowing exactly where my coffeepot or my underwear is. In HUGE BOLD LETTERS write which room the box belongs to. Think ahead: will every room translate exactly? For instance, we had a loft in our Charlotte house but we weren’t going to have a loft in the Buies Creek house we were moving to. So instead of LOFT, I labeled that box FRONT LIVING ROOM. I’ll explain this further in a few minutes.
Underneath the room label, jot down a list of the most important items in that box. If you know that you can’t go to sleep at night without Netflix on, make sure you label which box your TV remotes, Roku, and TV cables are in. I tend to have a “must have” box for each room. That lets me know all my crucial can’t-live-without items are inside and if I don’t accomplish anything else, that box needs to be unpacked.
Keep your clothes on the hangers.
Especially if your move is local, keeping your clothes on the hangers will make a huge difference in your unpacking process. To do this, wrap a large trash bag (the big black ones fit the most) around the base of the clothes while they’re hanging. Pull the drawstring tight over top the triangular part of the hanger and tie it. When you get to the new house, simply hang the bag full of clothes up and remove the bag! “Unpacked” in seconds!
Keep your stuff in the drawers.
So you all know that your furniture will be lighter and easier to move if you remove the drawers. It wasn’t until my third move that it dawned on me. Why pack up the contents of the drawers if I’m taking the drawers out to move the furniture anyway? Remove the drawers, move the furniture onto the truck, replace the drawers, tape them shut. When you get to the new house, remove the drawers, move the furniture into the desired room, replace the drawers. Boom. Unpacked.
There is no science to loading the truck. It’s a real life game of Tetris. Go with it.
Your type-A hyper organized brain is going to tell you that all those boxes from your bedroom need to go on the truck in order. Stop. Breathe. Let go. Your shit needs to get on that truck in whatever way it fits. I don’t participate in this process. We either enlist the help of our burly man friends, or we hire movers. Either way, your stuff will get on the truck on way or another. If your husband is telling you to back off and let them work, back off and let them work. If you WANT to participate, more power to you. Pack it on carefully and strategically. It WILL fit one way or another. Don’t get precious about it.
Unloading the truck: put each box &/or piece of furniture into the room it belongs immediately.
I know logically you’re thinking okay let’s just get this shit off the truck so we can return it. Those U-hauls aren’t cheap, I get it. But you’re just making more work for yourself and prolonging the process. If you’re carrying a box that says guest bedroom, bring the box to the guest bedroom. It takes just a few extra seconds, but it saves you time in the end. Trust me. As for the furniture, make quick but sound decisions. Have an idea how you want the furniture laid out ahead of time and put the furniture where it belongs. Instantly, that empty house will start to feel more like home.
Assemble & dress the beds as they come off the truck.
I learned this trick from professional movers. As your bed comes off the truck, stop what you’re doing. Grab the box that you carefully labeled “Master Bedding” because you’re so smart, and dress the bed as they’re assembling it. The first thing I ever do in a new house is make sure the master bed is made up. Whether I get to anything else at that point isn’t important…I have a bed to sleep in.
Assign roles: divide & conquer.
Chances are, you aren’t doing this move alone. My husband and his buddies (or the movers) are responsible for unloading the truck. While they handle that, I tackle the unpacking. This is where your labeling will come into play. Because the boxes will already be in the room where they live, and because you so carefully labeled them, you can unpack quicker. I make sure to handle the master bedroom (clothes, mostly), the master bathroom, and part of the kitchen if nothing else. In the kitchen, focus on your must have items first (coffee pot, silverware, plates and cups). For the record, your plates & cups will likely go straight into the dishwasher–so it’s wise to know where your dishwashing detergent is.
You’ll be surprised how quickly the house starts to feel like home with the master bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen mostly unpacked. With each box in the room it belongs, when you have a free second here or there, quickly unpack a box. Put out your picture frames and redress the bookshelves.
Okay. I’m sure I’m leaving some things out, but you definitely know more about packing smart now than you did before reading this post. That means I’ve done my job here. Happy packing, friends!
by Joey | Dec 8, 2016 | Real Life
I trust God. When it all boils down at the end of a hard day, a rough week, or a tough year, I trust God.
2015 ended with me enthusiastically shouting to anyone who would listen 2016 IS GOING TO BE MY YEAR! I was so convinced of it, it had to be! 2015 was a hard year. It started with everything crumbling down around me. My husband had just lost his job. That job was all that sustained us. It provided the house we lived in, our health insurance, and our only source of income at the time. And suddenly, poof. Gone. Just like that. Despite the uncertainty and overwhelming all consuming fear of the unknown, there was a peace within my soul. I couldn’t be bothered to be stressed. I made the conscious decision to put it on God. He’d handle it because I couldn’t.
And He did.
But handling it moved us to Charlotte. My husband wasn’t able to get a job in his field (on the field, har har har), and I’d been primarily out of work for two years. Okay, yes, I’d been writing and I published the book, but I hadn’t been employed. That kind of matters sometimes. Somehow, when all our football options kept coming up short, I landed a job in a matter of three days. Bada bing, bada boom, we were moving back to Charlotte baby.
Our prayers had been answered, but the year continued to be hard.
We were faced with challenge after challenge. It seemed we’d never catch a break. So as the year came to a close, I promised myself I’d make 2016 my year. Whatever that meant.
Eleven days into 2016, my dad died. My husband was dealing with uncertainty at his job once again. And I found myself suffocating underneath the pressure the year placed on my shoulders only a few months in. I crumbled. Before I could find a reason not to, I stood across from my boss, a sobbing mess, confessing to her that I just couldn’t do it all anymore. I couldn’t be everything to everyone. I’d lost myself. I’d lost God. I’d lost.
On May 3rd, I turned in my 30 day notice.
I quit.
I was going to fix 2016.
It was supposed to be my year, after all.
Without much of a plan, and only a few months worth of expenses in savings, I put faith in myself. Failing wasn’t an option at that point. Myra and I started developing Bliss in February. Loosely conceptualizing how this business might actually work in real life. On June 20th, we launched.
For the last six months, God took a year that started off horribly and made it my year. As things have played out over the last six months, the first six started to make more sense. Only He knows His plans for us, but as things start to unfold, trust me when I say every step of your journey starts to fit into your story perfectly. Without the hardships, you wouldn’t have the blessings.
As 2016 kicked off, one horrible thing after another, I still held out hope. Because I trust God.
With only three weeks left in the year that was meant to be mine,
I can say with full confidence:
He delivered.
2016 was my year.
by Joey | Dec 7, 2016 | Real Life
I plugged my phone in while driving to pick up an old friend from the airport. I’m not sure why, but when I do that it plays music from my “purchased” playlist in my iTunes. I usually turn it off immediately, but it was dark and raining, and I didn’t feel like messing with my phone. I let it play.
Music does something weird for me. Every song is an anthem to another time in my life. Some songs evoke happy memories while others drop me right back into really painful periods of my life. As each song seeped through the speakers, home-movies played within my mind, my imagination running wild with memories.
My dad was famous for attaching songs to stories. We would tease him that he could tell you where he was and what he was doing with every song he ever heard. I guess I’m more like him than I thought.
Coldplay, The Scientist.
2013: Sitting in my office in Buies Creek with the song on repeat while convincing myself the right thing to do was to let go of an important friendship. That one stings and tastes like salty tears.
Collie Buddz, Light it Up.
2014: Running down T.T. Lanier Road toward our house in Buies Creek after Amanda convinced me to download the song and run with music. This one is full of hope and determination.
Watsky, Strong as an OAK.
2016: Sweeping the floor at my last job in January. I was in the process of trying to get a car loan (I’d been driving a car that my parents loaned to me for over two years). I felt broke (I’d been there before). Broke or not, we were fine. We’d be fine. Strong. Like an Oak. It hurts a little but reminds me of humble beginnings. Thank God for the new-to-me car I was able to purchase only a few days later.
Pink, Try.
2013: Sitting on our old couch in the living room of our house in Charlotte only days after Jonathan moved to Buies Creek. I listened to the song on repeat trying to cope with unbearable pain. The depression was settling in and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I marinated in this song for months. Again, thankful for the reminder that time passes and things get better.
Gnash, I hate u, I love u.
2016: Running aggressively on the treadmill trying to process a shitty situation one of my best friends was experiencing with a crappy guy and trying to sort out my own feelings about it. Some people out there have no conscience and have no problem duping others. The title of the song is incorrect, it should be I love u, I hate u.
Sara Bareilles, Brave.
2014: Sitting at my desk in my office in Buies Creek trying to collect the courage to tackle the revision process of the book I’d written just after college. “This is Annie’s song,” my sister/editor emailed me one day while we were in the middle of working on the project. Annie was my main character. I guess I found that courage. This one makes me feel proud. The first time I ever heard this song bravery felt impossible. I didn’t think I had it in me. I guess I was wrong. Buy Yeah, Maybe here.
Music helps me cope. When I can’t find the words to make sense of what’s going on in my heart, the lyrics to a song can.
It’s kind of fun looking through the imaginary scrapbook music conjures up. Maybe I’ll to do this again. It’s oddly cathartic.
Does music transport you? Share a specific memory attached to a certain song in the comments. I’d love to know I’m not alone here!
by Joey | Dec 1, 2016 | In the kitchen
The student union at App had a restaurant upstairs called McAlisters. It’s a regular chain deli, but that particular one took my magical meal card.
(Can we all pour a little out in memory of those magical little cards? And also? Thanks parents. You had us so fooled into believing we were making it on our own. Joke was on us!)
Anyway. I only had classes on Tuesday and Thursday because I was a crazy person who worked full-time on top of a full course load. But every Tuesday & Thursday, you would find me and my then boyfriend, this really funny guy named Jonathan (Jokes again. He’s my husband now), ordering their broccoli and cheddar soup in a bread bowl.
Bread bowls are actually magic. Just saying.
It’s been a seriously hot minute since I’ve indulged in the cheesy, creamy goodness. So when Jonathan mentioned that he was really craving some on Sunday, the sensible adult inside of me figured our money was better spent buying the ingredients then dropping $10+ for two bowls of soup at a restaurant.
Damn adulthood. ::insert eye rolling emoji here::
I’m a pretty decent cook (when you ignore the fact that I’ve set four kitchen fires in the last 6 years). But I rely heavily on recipes. I got a little wild on Sunday and threw caution to the wind. I went to the grocery store without a list and without consulting a recipe.
I know. Wild looks a little different at 30.
By some cosmic twist of fate, I made the best dang batch of broccoli cheddar soup we’ve ever eaten. I know we’re all adults here, so I don’t actually have to tell you that a meal composed primarily of cheese and heavy cream is in no way healthy. No matter how much broccoli you dump in. But if you’re looking for a little comfort these chilly winter nights (just kidding, it’s currently 72 degrees at 9PM in Charlotte ::insert eye rolling emoji here again::), here you go.
Homemade Broccoli Cheddar Soup
Yields about 10 bowls. I wanted a big batch. Feel free to adjust the recipe as desired.
What you’ll need:
- 8 oz sharp cheddar cheese, shredded.
- 1 pint heavy whipping cream
- 48 oz Chicken Stock (it’d probably be fine to use just 32 oz if you only have one box, I was trying to use up what was in my fridge)
- 1/3 of an onion, finely chopped
- 1 clove of garlic, minced
- 2 tbsp butter
- 1.5-2 heads of broccoli cut up to your desired size. I like it cut up pretty small. I included the stalk, too.
- Salt to taste
What you do:
- Melt the butter on medium high heat in a large pot (I used a 6 qt pot). Once the butter is melted, add the onion and garlic. Sauté until the onion is translucent.
- Add the chicken stock.
- Stir in the whipping cream.
- Add the broccoli and let the mixture come to a gentle boil.
- Simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes, or until the broccoli is cooked.
- SLOWLY, did you hear me there? SLOWLY stir in the cheese. Add in a little at a time, stirring until the cheese is completely incorporated into the broth.
- Salt to taste.
- Serve & enjoy. Bonus points if you serve it in a bread bowl. Just sayin’.
Note: I would recommend adding equal parts flour to the butter (two tbsp) to create a nice rue before adding the chicken broth (that you would then need to add in very slowly). My husband is currently doing low-carb, so I didn’t use any flour to keep the carb count down. As a carb eater myself, I didn’t miss the rue.
The husband has made it very clear that this needs to make it’s way into our regular rotation. It’s so cheap to make, and just so dang good! I’m sold!
by Joey | Nov 28, 2016 | Real Life
I’m the kind of person who loves well-done, realistic TV. I put myself in the stories, relating the characters to my life. I take what I can use and leave the rest. So I’m sure you can imagine how I might have felt while watching the Gilmore Girls revival having lost my own dad just this January.
Edward Herrmann, the actor who played Richard Gilmore, the patriarch of the Gilmore clan, passed away in late 2014. Richard’s passing is a prominent storyline in the revival; Amy Sherman-Palladino allowed each Gilmore woman to cope with the loss in their own messy way, sharing their individual search for closure.
Emily’s journey through her grief hit particularly close to home.
While losing a parent is difficult in its own right, the earth-shattering shift in your universe is enough to knock the wind out of you, coping with the familial aftermath, for me, has been the hardest part.
People focus on the one who has passed, but they forget about those left mourning the loss. I’m not just mourning my father’s death on my own. I’m mourning for my siblings and my mother, empathizing their pain.
Our year, especially for my mother, has looked painfully similar to that of the Gilmore women. We’re preparing to sell the house I grew up in, the one my mom has called home for the past 30 years. My mom is learning how to handle life on her own after having had a partner for the last 46 years.
The scene with Emily on the couch, chaos and boxes surrounding her in the house that no longer feels like her home, stabbed like a knife. She sits next to Lorelei in jeans and a t-shirt, attire Mrs. Richard Gilmore would have never been caught dead in, and confesses:
I don’t know how to do this.
That scene wasn’t much unlike one that unfolded in a kitchen that was once so familiar to me over the weekend. While discussing the Christmas decorations, my dad’s stocking came up.
With tears in her eyes, my mom asked me. What do I do with it?
Our mantle over the years has always been a source of comedy, a family that started with just two in love evolved into an army.
The truth is, none of us knows how to do this. Loss and grief are nicely hidden amidst uncharted waters where you lose your grip on every sense of familiarity.
The only way through it is to continue to do whatever feels right. While I agree with Lorelei when she tells Emily nothing is going to bring you joy right now, I’m certain the joy will return. All we can do is keep leaning on the traditions that were once joy filled and wait.
I told my mom to put the stocking up if it brings peace to her heart. I think either way though, with or without it, the pain will remain.
But as I binged my way through a year in the Gilmore life, a year that looked much like my own, I found peace and comfort in their loss and its familiarity.
