Is there help for a hair-product-aholic?

This is a time when I wish that moving metaphorically would take precedence over moving physically. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those times...although I must admit to loving the exploration of metaphorical scenarios. :)

This weekend we moved all the major, large pieces of furniture into our new home. The new home is smaller, a lot brighter (lots of windows...I LOVE windows!!!), cozier (another word for smaller). The dogs are in heaven in the back yard...Mamita already knows that standing by the back door and barking with a sharp, distinct, demanding sound she will arouse her humans to get off their behinds and come open it to let her out. Once out, she then proceeds to inspect the whole back yard, which is laid-out in a u-shape around the West, South and East sides of the house. She's an extremely intelligent dog who happens to think she rules the world. Well, at least the little world she lives in. :)

The other three dogs seem a bit overwhelmed. Widdle runs around the back yard stopping at every bush, tree and overgrown weed to 'leave his mark' and proclaim it as his territory; Lumpy runs around trying to avoid Widdle's markers while silently leaving his own (competition runs between the two); Piggy just seems to be working on her tan - seriously - she loves to sunbathe. There would be times, in the old house, where she would lay sprawled out at the base of the front door where a bit of sunshine leeked in. Since she has one, dark stripe on her back it looks like she tanned through the door crack. (Yes, the hubby and I actually have serious conversations like this. Sick. I know.)

The nice thing about this move is that it seems to be the most stress-free move we've ever had. If you read my previous blogs you might recall that I mentioned the number of moves we've made since we've been living in Phoenix. Well, as you can imagine, we've had some funny adventures through each move. Not that we like chaos or frustration added to our lives, but I must admit, we're both a bit adventurous. I don't like doing the same thing over and over again and I'm one to make the most of each situation.

During one infamous and quite memorable move, which was our drive from Florida to Arizona, we sold all of our furniture and packed our two vehicles with clothes, computers, books, our TV, and other desired items and along with our brother/best friend, Wayne, we trekked out of Florida via I-10, which runs from Florida to California, for those of you who may not know. It was quite an adventure to travel with two men who were on a quest for a rare brand of malt liquor (yuk) that, from all I can recall, had a red bull on the bottle. During every food stop, gas fill-up and restroom stop, if there was a small market, which there usually was, the guys would run in to see if they could find their bottle of hard to find beverage. I have pictures to prove it. It's quite humorous. Really.

On another move, we hired a moving company and let's just say that the experience's tone was set the minute they drove up in a big truck that had, what I can only describe as a horse-trailer, attached at the back. I'll admit, I wasn't very optimistic. But, I'm married to a man who usually always sees the silver-lining of every cloud, which I'm grateful for, don't get me wrong. But, at times, I'm right and his optimism is wrong. This was one of those instances. The move ended up taking the two men, who admitted to not really being movers about 10 hours to move us from one apartment to another...in the same complex. The kicker was that they weren't even done when they gave out at the end of the day. Our plasma screen tv was still left in the old place with their promise to return the next day to move it for us. For free. They didn't return but we did get our tv moved, thanks to my dad. Sigh.

I like to liken my adventures in moving to something that my closest friend, Elsa (family, aunt, sister, best friend - she has many titles), pointed out about me during one of my moves that she helped me with - there have been a few. Anyhow, while helping me pack up the restroom toiletries one move, she mentioned that I had quite a collection of half-used shampoo and conditioner bottles. While packing up she asked me if there was a reason I had over a dozen of these bottles. She found it odd that I would have so many half-empty bottles of hair products. She wanted to know why I didn't use one up before buying another. I laughed when she asked and realized how ridiculous this might look to her - or anyone else for that matter. Between giggles I explained to her I had a problem, I liked trying new hair products. I then continued to introduce myself in the style of someone attending an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Needless to say, Elsa reasoned that if I had a bottle of shampoo that I hadn't used in over six months, I probably should quit carting it around from move to move. We threw many half-full (I prefer to see things in a more positive light, thank-you-very-much) bottles of shampoo, conditioner and styling gel that day.

My affinity for trying different hair products has tapered down as I've gotten older. I still alternate between one to three different types of shampoos of which I switch through on a regular basis but I've made a commitment to one hair conditioner - I swear by it. Proof that there is hope for other serial-hair-product-aholics out there. Elsa would be proud.

Anyhow, now that I've written down the likening of these two topics, the more I realize how different they are. Yet, they still tie in my head. Every time I've moved, there is an excitement that builds up in me. I like change. I like having to search for a new home and when found there are empty cabinets to fill, empty rooms to occupy. I enjoy a different neighborhood to explore and new neighbors to meet (or avoid - come on, you have some of those too). As mentioned before, the process of moving is a pain, but I'll admit I honestly don't mind it. It's worth it just to have the opportunities I've described above. Adventurous, and at times, chaotic.

I guess what I've realized is that the adventurous spirit I've been born with has been charging full steam ahead in the past 12 years. Why the past 12 years? Well, these are the years which I've been on my own as an adult. (Yes, it's only been 12 years...what can I say, I was a late bloomer). So until I've reached the point of committing to one residence for more than two years, I'll continue to allow myself to explore new places while enjoying new adventures.

Now it's time to get the rest of the boxes here. Sigh.

The joys of moving...

Moving is a pain in the butt! I could use more colorful words but I'll save them for the moments when I'm lugging yet another box out of the old house and into the new. I'm not excited about moving. I hate packing, unpacking. The whole process of moving is torturous. Except it's exciting at the same time. It means a new start. New chapter. New ground to explore. It means cleaning house, literally- and metaphorically-speaking.

Although I could go on and on about the literal pain of moving, for this post I'll focus on the metaphorical aspect of it. One might say that moving from place to place might be be an external action influenced by an internal force. In other words, I might internally be against or resistant to living in one place for a long period of time. I'm sure, if I did enough research, I'd find some sort of phobia on the books for it. I counted that in the past 10 years I've lived in 12 different places. I know that if averaged out it would appear I've lived less than 8 months at each place. That's not the case though. A few of those places were temporary residences or in between stops. Not that it matters, regardless I've lived in 12 residences over a 10-year span. That's more than I care to realize.

Maybe I was a gypsy or nomad in another life. For some reason, I really do enjoy a change of scenery. I like the sunlight entering the windows from a different angle. I enjoy the freshness of a clean home not yet littered with cat and dog hair. I enjoy getting rid of things that I don't use or have any need for. Maybe moving is my spring cleaning method. That would at least justify the number of times we've moved.

Let's break that down a bit further. Psychologists might postulate that my actions involving moving from one residence to another in the 
short span of time might be some sort of psychological reflection of what is going on inside of me. It might have underlying messages about my commitment to one place. Which could possibly reflect on my general feel of commitment. Yes, I know all that's possible. Fortunately, though, my commitment to a residence hasn't flowed into my commitment to my marriage. Seven years, blessed and strong...thank God!

Psychological interpretation aside, as much as I hate moving..the packing, unpacking, cleaning, sweating, frustration... I also enjoy the freshness that moving brings. Let the fun begin!