Friday, September 28, 2012

I Hate Telling People This...

Back about four years ago, when The Boy was a sophomore in high school, I decided we were getting the heck out of here and moving to Florida to be near the beach.  It was surprisingly easy to get The Boy to buy into the idea, even though he despises the beach.  It's too sandy and sunny and windy for him.  I think we were just both ready for a new start back then beach or not.

Because of the custody arrangement and the fact The Boy's dad lives here in Birmingham, I expected a battle of some sort.  In keeping with the demands of the divorce decree, I wrote The Boy's dad a long letter telling him we were moving and I would provide him with our new address as soon as we had one.  I sat back and waited, expecting a dispute.

I was shocked when there wasn't much of battle from his dad.  I don't even remember what the response was, but I do remember it wasn't much.  The Boy and I were good to go.

I informed my mom and she, of course, said no.  She said I didn't need to move.  Every once in a while I would get some sort of email card from her telling me to "listen to my mother!"  She sent a singing monkey card once that said I needed to listen to her and I was NOT moving to Florida.

During that time, I got a Florida real estate license so I was licensed in Florida and Alabama, I put my house on the market and I started looking for jobs in Pensacola since I didn't think I could make it on real estate alone down there.

Months went by.  My house sat on the market.  I couldn't find a job.  My mom sent me death threats (just joking! Only singing monkeys).

I got an offer on my house, finally, but it fell through.  Then, The Boy found out about a technology school that he could go to his Junior and Senior year to learn about computers/information technology. In the mornings he would be at his normal high school, but after lunch he would take the bus 30 minutes down the road to the tech school.  He really wanted to do it, so I took the house off the market and we stayed.

Unfortunately, for some time after that (and even now) people think I've moved.  For a while I would show up for local races and they would say things like, "Hey, I thought you moved to Florida." or "Didn't you move to Florida?"

For years I have had to explain that, "No, I'm still here.  Haven't moved. "  Sometimes I would give explanations, sometimes not.  It really got to be a pain.

Now The Murph and I have been planning on moving after Christmas and Florida and Georgia are on our short list, but we are open.  Wherever there are job opportunities,  since we both need real jobs at some point.  Which brings me to why I am writing this post.

Today I was in my car dodging traffic trying to keep up with The Running Nazi, when my cell phone rang.  It was B from my stock broker's office calling to tell me they can't direct deposit into my checking account.  I hadn't talked to her in a while so we started catching up.  I helped her purchase her house a few years back and my son and her daughter went to the same high school.

She needed my address and asked me if that was where The Murph and I were going to live after we were married.  I knew it was probably a bad idea to say anything, but at that point I told her we were moving.  I knew as the words came out of my mouth, where B was going to go with it.  Sure enough she said what 20 million people (I'm exaggerating) have said to me during the past four years, "Weren't you moving to Florida a few years ago???" And there's always this tone they have in their voice when the say it.  Or is that just my imagination?

I know!  I hate to even tell people we are moving.  The Murph and I have "been moving" now for at least 4 or 5 years.  We were moving before we even knew each other.  And we were both moving to Florida.  That's part of what makes us a good match, isn't it?  Wanting to move to Florida and all...

What makes it even worse is that we really do kind of live in both places now since there's the condo down there.  It just adds to the confusion.

We really have to move now or I'm going to have to stop telling people that we are moving.  Believe me, no body's more confused about what I'm doing and where I am than I am!  What if The Murph gets a job here and we stay?  Then for the next 5 years I will have to explain to people that we're still here.  Didn't move.  Why?  Why not?  Because...

I'm still here... damn it!


  1. Don't worry about it too much. As long as you intend on moving, you can tell people that you're moving. And you have to do what's best for you and Murph, not anyone else. So if that involves moving, then move. Anyone who cares should be supportive.

    1. You're right. I worry too much. But it did get kind of old when even 2 years later there were people who still thought I had moved. I'm sure that even now somebody somewhere thinks I've been living in Florida the past 4 years. It's kind of funny to see how faulty information about people spreads among the community. You can stand up in front of a group of people and give a lecture - nobody listens. You want people to listen - start a rumor. Spreads like wildfire! Not that that was a rumor because I really was moving, but I think it is the same concept.

  2. LOL! Don't tell anyone before you do it. If you speak it out loud before hand, you jinx it ;)

    1. That's what happened several years ago. I jinxed it! I'm keeping my mouth shut from now on.

  3. Oh, how I can relate. Some of our family are always asking, "Are you moving back to Charleston yet?" Or "When are you moving back to Charleston?" I really don't know how to answer except with this: "I don't know." (And stop asking me.)
    Sometimes we can't just pick up and relocate. There are jobs (hello, jobs?) to consider, homes to sell, etc.
    When we lived on The Rock, I would take trips to the US between school terms. Upon my return home to the island, people there started asking, " long are you back for?" How can that question be answered? I was back home! "I'm back here, at home, til my next trip." (And stop asking me.)
    So yeah, I can relate.
    People - especially Americans, bless our hearts - try to fit others into a neat little box and when they can't, they ask a lot of questions. You don't fit into that neat little box because you split your time between two places.
    And you know what? A little mystery is good. Answer with a question, or give an elusive answer. Or better yet, the French way: just shrug.

    1. I'll make sure I don't ask you about Charleston next time I talk to you. :) I had to explain to the Murph that when a Southerner says "bless your heart", it isn't a good thing. Next time someone asks me when I'm moving, I'm just going to shrug, the French way.

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