Fear and Loathing in Lawrence

I am California Dreaming, but on such a spring day? It doesn't even make sense. Winter is over. What gives with the atlas gazing and frequent visits to findmyspot.com FYI-this is a site that gives overviews of cities and really not naughty at all. Somehow the spring thaw has yet to happen in my psyche. This winter left me bereft. I am so out of love with this, the town of my heart. Instead of buoyant at the change in season I feel a sense of impending doom. I have to get out before "it" happens all over again.

Frankly, I am obsessed. All I think about is life somewhere else. I am so consumed that I actually found myself wondering where "Clifford the Big Red Dog" is set. There seems to be proximity to the ocean, constant blue skies, and people/dogs who seem cheerful without the use of a sun lamp. In case you don't set your child in front of moving images (aka-tv) and don't know-this is a cartoon. Hence, it is not really set anywhere and unlikely to hold the answer to all of my location related woes.

What gives and what is it all about? I hail from western Kansas and should be made of heartier stock. Is this some kind of mid-life crisis (titillating future post alert-more on that very real possibility right around the bend). Do I have some kind of bona-fide seasonal affective disorder? In which case, don't I owe it to myself to live my best life?

With kids in the picture the prospect of moving becomes (just like every other friggin subject) soooo emotionally loaded. The thought of taking them from this place and the nearness of those who love them so well gives me an awful feeling in my gut and a lump in my throat. After all, isn't part of growing up having that moment of realization about what is really important and the connection with home? It is the end of every story since the beginning of time. The a-ha moment that sends you back into the arms of your motherland.

And yet....to me one of the biggest gifts I could give my children is the world. Open it up to them, extend their horizons, give them homes. Here, where they would always visit and have roots. And a new city and everything that brings. Like weather that doesn't make you want to stick your head in the oven.

"Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth."
— Nathaniel Hawthorne
(FYI-I got this little gem not from reading lots of Hawthorne but from Jhumpa Lahiri's book "Unaccustomed Earth" which is phenomenal and not coincidentally filled with stories of immigrants Click on the title and you can read this beautiful book.)

Little citizens of the world. People who would feel that anything is possible. After watching the Katherine Hepburn film "Summertime" in its 2 hour entirety a few weeks ago my four year old asked me a thousand questions about Venice (where the movie is set) and about Italy. The next day she had tears in her eyes and told me she wanted to "see all the beautiful, sparkly things in the world" and could she? Did she have time? When, exactly, were we going to Italy? Folks, I can't make this stuff up. She is quite the old soul. I was floored. Aghast. How can I give my children this sense of adventure and possibility. In Kansas? On a budget? A move signifies that anything can be. Our story isn't completely written. That there really isn't anything, beyond our own selves, that hold us back or tie us down.

I really want to end with some kind of answer. But I have way more questions than answers at this point. And for your reading pleasure I intend to explore them right here. Oh, good times. Look for my brilliant dissection on mid-western living and an exploration of the very cliche, yet oh-so-very-real existential crisis that is upon on me, on this my 10th year of marriage and 34th year. Despite the warming temps, I predict you will need a shovel.