Today

Right now I'm sitting on someone else's couch eating yogurt out of the tub that I have over-generously sprinkled granola directly into.

I'm not even sure if they have granola and yogurt where we're going.

90% of our things are on a truck somewhere. In three days they'll be on a boat. Think nice, calm seas thoughts for us.

We have suitcases, inexpertly packed with some things we need and mostly things we couldn't bear to throw away and too many pairs of pajamas.

In the next fifteen minutes we're going to drug our cats, put harnesses on them and put them in carriers. They'll be allowed out in about 12 hours.

Our first stop will be the KLM counter where we'll beg and plead our case to be allowed to sit next to each other so that we're not 10 rows apart on the biggest, most emotional flight of our lives. I'll gladly take a middle seat if it means we don't have to do this alone.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of food and friends and board games and running (literally and metaphorically). At some point my emotions shut down -- I am no longer excited or scared or sad or anything, I am just a pile of cells waiting for the inevitable moment when it all hits me and I become a giant pile of goo (which is yet another reason I shouldn't really be sitting next to two strangers on the airplane).

In a few days I'll be able to thoughtfully process what the past few weeks (and 10 years) in Chicago have meant to me. But until then, think safe, quiet travel thoughts for us. We'll see you on the other side of the Atlantic.

T-Minus Ten Days

Here we are. We're moving to Amsterdam in ten days. Literally, actually, ten days.

Everyone knows. Bosses, besties, facebook. We sold our apartment (insert one million praise hand emojis). We sold our guest room furniture and our grill. We have resisted the temptation to buy anything new.

And yet, it doesn't quite feel real yet.

We had a good bye party with too much food and the exact right amount of laughter, our people crowded around our dining room table just where we like them. But it didn't feel like a good bye party. It just felt like a party, like all the ones that came before. There was no sense of it being the last one.

We toured up and down the east coast with the goal of saying goodbye to family and friends, but we were so busy catching up and eating everything that the goodbyes were rushed and didn't quite feel real.

But it is all very real. And in 10 days. The airplane will be real. And the cat carriers. And the four suitcases and two backpacks...

...and that's where my imagination stops because I have been so caught up in the leaving of Chicago, it has left no room for what might be in store when we get off the airplane on the other side of the pond.

So we focus on what lays just ahead of us. All the lasts and the finals and the one mores.  My goal is to take pictures, accept hugs, and remember that nothing is as important as soaking up as much Chicago and joy as I can before that plane takes off.

One month of knowledge

It has been a month since the last post and we finally have more questions than answers. We're out of the dark and into the weeds. The deep, deep weeds.

We know when we're moving. May 30. Two humans, two cats, one airplane. It is (thankfully) a nonstop flight that ends with a cab ride to our temporary apartment. 

We know what we're doing with our current apartment. We're selling it. After a desperate call to my mom that turned into a three day packing and purging fest, we got the apartment on the market a week ago. Please come buy it immediately. 

We know that other people know. Our families know. Most of our friends know. Ironically, it is the people we're closest (both geographically and emotionally) to that don't know. We're not ready to tell work yet, which means we can't tell coworkers (even work boos), and with some other friends celebrating big things in the next few weeks, we're trying not to steal any thunder. But! We have timelines and strategies for telling everyone. 

We know we have visas. And we know when the movers are coming to take all our stuff. And we know which stuff they'll take. We know what neighborhoods we're eyeing. We know when we'll get bank accounts and health insurance. We know which restaurants we're excited to try. 

We also know how annoying it is to mislead people. We know how stressful it is to be living in your house and trying to sell it.  We know how hard it is to not be making Chicago summer plans with everyone. We know how it is to work at a job and know you're not going to be there in seven weeks. 

Right now the highlights are:

watching our cats be stoned on the drugs the vet gave us to try for the flight. They aren't actually helpful for when they're in the carriers, but they're pretty hilarious when they're cracked out. 

following all the Amsterdam instagram (Amstergram) accounts that are posting pictures of tulips and canal-side patios

throwing away everything. Part of the allure of this move is the opportunity to majorly downsize our lives. With the advent of selling things on facebook, we have been able to turn a tidy profit on things that would have just ended up in the dumpster. 

We're still about 90% excited, 90% terrified but feeling just slightly better now that the countdown clock has officially started.

More informed waiting

In the past week, we have learned a few things and decided on almost absolutely nothing.

We now know that D has to leave by May 31. Which is only a few days before we initially planned, but because it is May and not June, it feels so much sooner. It is 84 days. Holy crap.

We have absolutely no idea when I'm going. Maybe May 31, maybe July 1, maybe some time in between? I'm struggling with leaving before the end of the fiscal year of my job because some might  see it as poor form, and also means no bonus.

We know the cats need new microchips. We don't know if they need new rabies shots. But we're giving them new rabies shots anyway. They're going to be so mad. Three vet visits in the next 3 months. And then a seven hour flight. We are trying to find a good time to break the news to them.

We know it is going to be hard for me to find a job due to my not speaking Dutch. I continue to haphazardly apply for jobs with just as much energy as I put into day dreaming about Amsterdam real estate.

Everything is still so up in the air...making the keeping of the secrets harder. And it has taken me three days to write this blog because of cat research, cover letter writing and (mostly) the People vs. OJ Simpson.

Waiting.

We still don't know anything. And we won't until Friday, which is a long time (long enough for me to get some answers from my job about some logistics) -- but good things are happening.

We got to tell people, which is like someone released a pressure valve on my insides. Every time I have to fudge the truth or act excited about things I know I'm not going to experience, the vice grips tighter and tighter. The reactions are relatively positive, but not without some sadness and confusion. Every time we tell someone, I go through all my own emotions about it too. But, it is good to know that most people are happy for our new adventure.

Some people are so excited they've already booked plane tickets! Which is hilarious because we haven't even booked plane tickets. Knowing that there are going to be house guests and fun adventures waiting for us to plan makes me feel like even if we come back (when we come back?) it will have been worth it to give people the opportunity to try a new fun place.

We're learning the language. D is learning with this and I am learning with this. That should tell you almost everything you need to know about us.

We are looking at apartments. And I'm hunting for jobs. I started following gorgeous Amsterdam instagram (Amstagram?) accounts.

Trying to outweigh the anxiety of not knowing with the excitement of all the things to come.

Gratitude for curve balls.

Here's what we know about moving to Amsterdam:

Nothing.

We thought we knew what day and we don't even know that anymore. We will have more answers next week, but right now it is all just guessing. For two very organized people, this is bordering on insufferable.

Today during my yoga class (and yes, I know how tedious it us for people to tie real life to yoga maximums, but there we are) the intention was gratitude. Gratitude for the curve balls.

This felt pretty on.the.nose for how I have been feeling. This life change isn't really a curve ball, we have been planning it for a few months, but now that it is really real, now that we have brought contracts and signatures into the deal, it feels very much like someone punched us in the gut and then shrugged their shoulders and said "but you asked me to..."

So, I'm trying to feel gratitude. This is a capital A - Adventure. It is going to force us to work as a team. We're going to have to try new things. Like really, really new things (like a new language, for one).

I'm grateful that we're going to live in Europe, which means every passing fancy we've ever had about going to Greece or Spain or Denmark is going to be completely accessible to us. We're going to get to dive head first into brand new things, and we can do it over a weekend.

I'm grateful to be living in a place with comprehensive healthcare, maternity leave, and work-life balance. Americans get along okay without these things (or with limited access to them), but what a treat to have them provided because all humans deserve them.

I'm grateful to get to shed some of our extra weight. We own so many things. I am itching to start getting rid of them. Old clothes, old linens, old books -- they deserve a new home that will love them and I am thrilled to have a real reason to be forced to hand them off to new owners.

Feeling grateful helps with the gut wrenching terror of not knowing. It helps for the curve balls that we asked to thrown at our face, and the ones that we know are coming.

99 Days until liftoff

In 99 days, we will board an airplane with all our earthly possessions and two cats with one way tickets to Amsterdam.

(note: most of our earthly possessions will be in a 20 ft shipping container. Sadly they won't let the cats travel in the shipping container).

On Monday night, D accepted a job with an awesome company and so now, we're just going to go. Just pick up and (in 99 days) GO.

Naturally, this is terrifying. and exciting. and sad. and exhilarating. Between the two of us, we have felt every single emotion listed in the emotions book.

But here's the thing, we can't really tell everyone yet. Because we're keeping our jobs for the next three-whole-months. So right now we're in the quiet phase of the campaign. We're letting the key stakeholders know. Like our parents, and our siblings, and my friend who really likes excuses to visit Amsterdam, and my friend who travels to Amsterdam for work.

Right now we're making lists of all the things we have to do in the next 99 days. We keep checking in with each other to see if it is really real. We occasionally look at photos of Amsterdam during a rough patch in the work day to remember what our future holds. We try really hard, during those rough patches, not to shout in the middle of meetings, "I'm leaving!" We're googling how to move a cat, and will my kitchen-aid mixer work, and yoga studios in Amsterdam.

And we're starting a blog, because everyone keeps telling me I have to start a blog. So I used an old gmail address and fired up a brand new blogspot (D said if I write enough maybe he'll give me a custom URL for Christmas. Won't be the first time...).

Here we go.