Hi there. So despite my best intentions, I have not posted nearly as much as I thought I was going to this summer. I guess sheer boredom will do that. Unfortunately, my summer doldrums have been magically cured. My parents decided to move into the condo they closed on at the end of July. So by this time next week I'll be living it up west side style. The west side of Eau Claire that is. While deep down I'm glad my parents decided to do this while I was home to help them, I am stressing out. I don't remember too much about the last time we moved. I think on the actual moving day I was in Minneapolis seeing Michelle Kwan preform. (I used to figure skate. Shut up.) I can remember putting all of my stuffed animals in garbage bags and packing up my books. The stress mostly comes from the worry that my mom will try to push herself too hard to do things beyond her limits and we will end up with a health crisis. She is frustrated because the stifling heat makes it difficult for her to accomplish much. The other part of the stress came from my brother's apparent hesitance to come home this weekend to help. I ended up calling him and pleading with him to come home. Mostly because I am not packing his extensive Star Wars memorabilia collection. Its time that shit got out of the house.

I worry that I sound like a whiny, complaining brat too much. Oh well.

There is humor in all of this. I have discovered that my Dad is a horrible pack rat. For some reason, being his daughter for 22 years, I was never tipped off to the fact that the man is a collector. While we were preparing for our epic garage sale, my Mom worked hard to gently pry my Dad away from his spy novel collection. Which was all in hardcover, I might mention. However, the CDs were a battle that she lost. (Along with the DVDs.) The man can't seem to part with much. I was packing up his collection of VHS tapes and found a copy of Romancing the Stone that had to have been taped off of TV in the early 90's.

I did not know you were such an ardent Michael Douglas fan, Dad.

There is also the memorabilia. Of which there is a shit ton. There are plates commemorating Walter Peyton (I have no issue with this - Peyton was known as Sweetness for a reason. Now if only we could get some stuff with Mike Singletary or the Fridge on it), tiny dioramas of Wrigley Field and Soldier's Field, a Bears tailgater's truck in miniature complete with tiny sack of nuts and keg. Upon packing up Dad's bookcase I discovered the guide to Colonial Williamsburg. Is he planing a trip? That thing is probably from 1994. My Mom and I spend our time laughing about all this. I just wish my father would allow me to rib him a little bit. But again, I must mention the stress levels and the fact that I like having my limbs to use freely.

I think once the Star Wars crap is out of here and the books have been transfered to the new place I will stop waking up at the crack of dawn full of panic and the compulsion to pack. Thank goodness I have a pre-season Bears game to look forward to this weekend.

I shall leave you with a list of songs I have been enjoying as of late, especially as I settle down for my nightly ritual of JigZone and Alias.

Johnny Appleseed - Joe Strummer
The Bleeding Heart Show - The New Pornographers
Heartbeats - Jose Gonzalez
The Darkest Spark - The Ghost is Dancing
1234 - Feist
Hedonistic Me - Born Ruffians
Changing Colors - Great Lake Swimmers
Shuttles & Planes - The Ghost is Dancing