Casbahs to cornfields

We begin our journey to Nebraska at 1:30am tonight when Ahmed the grand taxi driver will pick us up. He'll drive us straight to the Casablanca airport, and then it's on to Lisbon, Newark, Chicago, and finally Nebraska.

If I have observations or insights while there, I'll post on my blog. If not, check in with me at the end of August.

Babies

This is not a great picture because I didn't have my nice camera with me, but I thought these young lesser kestrels on the rooftop of a house were just too lovely to pass up.

Closing day

Well, it's over. Yesterday was closing day; we successfully sold our house. The cat, Sierra, is safely deposited with her new family. The remaining yard equipment has been passed on to the neighbors.

T and I haven't seen the house in a year and didn't sign the closing paperwork, so it doesn't feel entirely real to us. That has made it easier to avoid waxing nostalgic, but I'm not sure whether that avoidance is emotionally healthy.

Closing day on the house is the official closing day for a particular dream and a particular path which our life has turned away from. It may be years before my memory of the house settles into simple fondness. Right now, I feel relief, but also a painful longing, a slight itching of regret, vague apprehension, and a disconcerting feeling of being entirely untethered.

I look forward to the perspective that time and distance from the experience will give me, the perspective that I think Robert Frost writes about in "The Road Not Taken." It's not that I've clearly taken the better path, but I do look forward to the day when I can tell myself that I did.

What's coming

1. In two days, we will close on our house in Powell.

2. In six days, we will begin our 24+ hour journey to Nebraska (Ifrane to Casa, Casa to Lisbon, Lisbon to Newark, Newark to Chicago, Chicago to Omaha, Omaha to David City).

3. In 49 days, if I have any money, I will begin my graduate program.

Right now, I'm waiting.

Another downside

The white screen of death

I'm pretty sure my MP3 player died today--just a few minutes ago, actually. It's really not a big deal. I had some playlists on it, but they weren't that impressive, and everything else is also saved on my computer and backed up on an external hard drive. It was just a Sansa Fuze. Not a big deal.

No, not a big deal...but a bigger deal than it would have been, say, 14 months ago, when I was still getting a paycheck in dollars (or any paycheck at all). Fourteen months ago, I would have just gone online and ordered myself a new one. I think it would cost me, maybe, $60.

But now $60 is a lot more to me than it was then. I've been thinking about this a lot lately since T and I have been seriously talking about returning to the States for a month. I'm having to seriously face the fact that wages which allow us to live a pretty comfortable (if not extravagant) life here would put us on food stamps there. We're doing great as long as we don't need anything that comes from an American or European economy. But as I have been pondering what I'll do while I'm back "home," I have inevitably and consistently come up against the wall of economics. The things I want to buy, the things I want to do, will all cost dollars, which I'm not earning anymore.

I know this makes me sound awfully materialistic. It may also sound like I'm throwing a pity party for myself, but I'm not at all. I'm just working right now on a mental shift, which is always difficult. I will be in the States (incha'allah, as we say here), but I won't be part of the U.S. economy (which is pretty much true for a lot of people living there, come to think of it). I will have to prioritize the things I want to spend money on (tofu or haircut? vitamins or clothes?) and will have to "make my own fun," as the saying goes.

And, if I can't get it working, I'll have to learn to live without my MP3 player.