So it’s official, well almost. No papers have been signed, no blood oaths sworn or first borns handed over, but that’s all a formality.

We’re moving.

To Delaware.

See my face? See how it’s smiling? Yeah, it’s stuck that way. I honestly don’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand it’s a good job and it pays more and I’ll be a lot closer to my family. On the otherhand I like where I live now, the move will be a major pain and oh yeah I”LL BE A LOT CLOSER TO MY FAMILY. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, I have to it’s some kind of law. But some of them enjoy their drama a little to much. I don’t like gossip, melodrama and the loss of my privacy and I’m afraid that’s what will happen. There’s a reason we moved to the other side of the continent and our families were a big part of that. Plus, I’ve been gone for a long time. The last time they saw me I was a 19 year old kid, now I’m 26 and all grown up but some of them still have a hard time seeing me as an adult. I mean, they still call me Missy ::shudders:: no matter how much I ask them not to.

Most of my stress revolves around the actual move. We have to fly out in a couple weeks to find a place to rent, then fly back, pack, rent a van, and somehow transport 12 cats across the country. Much as I love them I don’t look forward to spending five days in a car with them. I know, 12 cats is a lot and everyone says I should give them away but believe me I tried to find them homes when they were babies and no one wanted them. The town we live in has a serious pet overpopulation problem and it’s very hard to find good homes for animals out here. At this point we’re far to attached to them to give them away anyway.

The rest of my stress comes from flying and driving. I get car sick very easily on top of my other medical problems. I’m not going to go into the gory details but lets just say that one of the meds I take has some really unpleasant side effects that aren’t helped by being in a moving vehicle. So in order to not get sick during the flight/drive I’m probably going to have to not eat. The trouble with that is that I get anemic and hypoglycemic fairly easily and tend to get all weak and fainty. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do about that yet.

Anyway, there probably won’t be much in the way of new artwork or work of any kind this month because I’m going to be super busy. But if you don’t hear from me much don’t think I’m ignoring you, have forgotten you or ceased to exist. I’m here and I’ll be back so don’t forget about me ok? And wish me luck! I’ve never lived on the east coast (which is amazing because I’ve lived almost everywhere in the US). So send me positive moving vibes so I won’t go all insane. Good luck and blessings, Prana

P.S. Hey! Don’t forget to visit my DeviantArt gallery and comment on my work! http://kaliprana.deviantart.com/ 

Yesterday it was the optomotrist, today it was the dentist. My life is an endless aray of rainbows, unicorns and cotton candy. Gah! My teeth were perfect as usual but I did have a tiny cavity that I insisted be drilled and filled asap. Eight hours later and it still hurts! Oh wo is me
Good luck and blessings, Prana

As I was getting ready for my Optometrist appointment this morning I noticed a gray hair so I plucked it out. Then I found another one. And then another one. I’m full of vice and sin but vanity isn’t one of them so I ignored it.

Got to the doctors and they did the exam complete with eye drops that make you look like a hypno-toad. My new glasses cost almost as much as my rent. ‘They’d better be made of solid gold and grant wishes!’ I whisper to Sean. I need a stronger prescription….again. I begin to contemplate the ramifications of blindness. How would I draw? Play video games? Watch TV, read, and use the computer? How would I raise children?

Chill, I tell myself, you’re being paranoid. Still, coke bottle lenses don’t scream sessy! Just then Sean pulls another gray hair from my head. Great.

We finally get done at the optometrists and decide to have some lunch. Our town is the size of a thimble and offers such fine dining as Arby’s, McDonald’s and Jack In the Box. We decide to eat at the fanciest place available, Sizzlers. I order a steak/shrimp/chicken meal and the salad bar and Sean gets the salad bar as usual. Sean eats nothing but salad and ice cream but I make an effort to have a more balanced meal. Cottage cheese, grapes, cantaloupe, salad. I even throw in a tiny bit of what I think is coleslaw. It’s not. Good thing the waitress left us extra napkins.

I completely ignore my meal because just like always I realize there’s no way I can eat the meal and my plate from the salad bar. Oh well, now I have dinner for later. As I’m eating I notice that the food isn’t particularly cold or fresh and start to think about the types of exotic diseases I’ll probably come down with as a result of eating at a buffet. A few years ago this never would have crossed my mind. A few years ago I was still observing the five second rule and thought a balanced meal meant you bought combos to go with your mars bar. Now all I can think about is people breathing on my food and whether tapioca pudding should have a green tint to it.

On the way home we stop at the local Sears which is actually a tiny hole in the wall joint in a strip mall. A boy, in desperate need of a good meal and a belt, asks us if we need help and we tell him no, we know exactly what we want. Having done several hours of research I already know which TV is best to replace the one that’s dying a slow death in our living room. Again it strikes me that a few years ago I’d have just gone into the store and picked the TV that was the prettiest or the biggest. Now I do research. I check consumer reports and look for recalls. On the way out the kid, who is probably the same age as me but seems younger because of his rocker T-shirt and pants that nearly fall off when he gets our TV off the shelf, calls me ma’am. I have a revelation.

I’m…..old.

Grey hair, thick glasses, worrying about nutrition and doing research. And now, I’m a ‘ma’am’. I don’t even understand half the slang the kids use now. Old, old, old. I think I may be having a quarter life crisis. I suddenly have the urge to throw out all my clothes and buy a bunch of latex corsets, drink a red bull and get something pierced. When did I stop being ‘cool’, when did I become a ‘ma’am’?

I think I may get a tattoo. Or possibly a walker. I haven’t decided yet. Good luck and blessings, Prana