When I was 15 my friend Zane died. When I was 18 my first love Martin died. When I was 19 my good friend Ozzy died (he had been in the hospital when my Zane was born). By the time I was 24 I had gone to 5 funerals for people under the age of 22. I've spent a lot of time as an adult feeling the impact of these losses, and thinking about the impact of these losses, and I couldn't overstate them if I tried. Quite simply, I know about death. I know it's very close and I know it could happen any time, to anyone. I know you can't negotiate with it. I know it's final. 

Zane's been an awesome kid to raise. He's kind and compassionate first and foremost. He's present, emotional, smart, people love him, and he still loves me - he tells me so every day. We've had our moments, even years, but all in all, I lucked out and I know it. As his 18th birthday has been getting closer it's been dawning on me that I think I've been holding my breath, hoping he lives to see 18, not being sure that he would.

Last night he called home at 10:45pm to say he'd be home by 1am, and he'd officially be 18 then. I said, "Okay, but I really do need you to come home. I need you to be alive tomorrow." He laughed and assured me he would be. 

When I got up this morning I opened his bedroom door and there he was, all six feet three inches of him, spread out horizontally on a double bed that doesn't fit him even if he's sleeping in it the right way, and his chest was rising. And his body moved. And I can breathe a little deeper today.

He's very photogenic.

He is the best cat that ever lived, everyone agrees.

Although he is 16 he is in AWESOME shape. He runs, jumps, and plays, but mostly he sleeps. He loves people fiercely. He's a big 14 pounder. He's got a loud purr - it's great. He loves your lap. He has no bathroom problems. He's picky about his food brand.

He likes windows.

He probably can't live with other animals, or he never has, and we don't want to stress him out unduly. He can live with kids, but they need to be taught about not surprising his belly. He's very tolerant but has swiped at belly scratchers a couple times. He won't go after your upholstery if you keep a simple cardboard scratching pad out.

He is a seat stealer!

Here's the thing, the big thing: we'll pay for his needs until he is called to Cat Heaven, where he will be King. Food, litter, vet bills (he only needs one check up a year for now), and anything else he needs are covered.

This is his favorite sleeping pose.

So if you love cats, like deeply love cats, and you're in a stable living situation and will be for the next couple years, and think you might want to adopt Simba, and you don't have another cat or dog, maybe you could get in touch?

Matthew is at (413) 475-2781. Sarah would just cry if you called her. Or email Matthew at becoming.intense AT gmail.com.

We would be willing to drive him a couple hours for the right home (we're in Western Mass.) and he comes with a carrying crate, a brush, nail clippers, a covered litter pan, and a cardboard scratching pad.

 He's really worth it.

The loft was the original bedroom when the A-Frame was only an A-Frame (no addition on the front). It's ten by ten, but with the ceiling/walls being what they are there's only about a three by ten walkable space. Since we have a bedroom it's hard to know what to do with the loft. It's not really appropriate for guests, and it'll get hot in the months we'll be up there. So for now this is what's happening:

I know that for some of you, maybe for a lot of you, painting wood, any wood, is akin to High Crimes Punishable By Death By Hanging and Dismemberment. Fuck off. This place needed light. Once the walls were white I wanted to do an intense color on the floor since the rest of the A-Frame will be mostly white and neutral. I tend to do intense colors only in small spaces, so the loft was a great candidate for me to try out my right-now favorite color.

I know, I know. It's so pretty all natural and raw like that. Get over it.Someday my grandchildren will hear all about how many coats it took to get this place white.

Holy shit that primer is bright.Good god, that's better.

Love.Moving in is the best part.

So it's a library. A place to pretend you're writing the next Great American Novel. A place to hide, to perch, to nest, to read, to drink whiskey without rocks.

Hello enormous gravity-fed water tank.This is all temporary, but yes, there will be a bar in the loft.

Love love.She glows.

1. Matthew has worked for almost 3 years for a company based there (that's him in the video - cute, right?). He spends two weeks at home and two weeks there. Back and forth, back and forth. It got old.

2. In the summer of 2011 I had one of those cliched AH-HAH moments that felt too important to ignore in which the clouds parted and lightbulbs went off and tons of bricks fell and I realized that I WANT TO BE AN INTERIOR DESIGNER.

So, Matthew's company made it pretty easy to chose moving to SF (logistically and financially and for which we are super grateful), and I found an MFA program in Interior Architecture and Design at the Academy of Art that I really like and proceeded to get into the program.

Where will you live?

We will live in Adam's Point, Lake Merritt, Oakland. After a GRUELING apartment search we found a gorgeous deco apartment in a pink stucco house. Matthew has seen it. I haven't. Crazy. If you want to follow our move you can do that here.

When do you leave?

Great question. We have to sell our house, I have to finish my work (May 30), we have to move all of our stuff and figure out all the details and logistics involved with moving a family across the country. So, the short answer is: by the end of August.

What about Simba?

We can't bring our beloved cat. We just found this out and are fucking heartbroken. We do not know what we are going to do.

Is Zane going with you?

Zane, our 18-year-old, is coming with us. His plans are up in the air, but he will be coming with us in August.

Are you selling your house?

YES.

What about the A-Frame?

As our dear friend Anja said, now we have a real Vacation Home! Part of why we bought it last spring was we anticipated a move in our future, though we didn't know it would come so soon. If we didn't have it I'd feel really differently about the prospect of leaving New England. I plan on being there in the summers as much as possible, including this one.

Are you ever moving back?

I sure hope so. I am the only child of two awesome parents, two awesome step-parents, and a valued member of a tight and awesome community here in western Massachusetts. I value my community so highly that most of me thinks I'm crazy for moving on a daily basis. I am also a New Englander through and through and as much as I look forward to fresh citrus and the growing season and the sunshine and the no snow, it's hard to imagine staying there forever. Essentially, I'm trying to be open to whatever comes our way, just like I was when San Francisco came calling.

How are you feeling?

Really, really, really torn. Very emotional. Like a crazy person. Overwhelmed. Excited. I cry a lot. I stay up at night thinking about the pink house. I look at maps of all the restaurants and cocktails I will have access to. Relieved. Stressed. You know.

The website is live, lawn signs are up, the craigslist posting is already lost in the shuffle, the ad will appear in the local paper this week, Facebook is aware, and now we wait.

For some, this has been a shocker. Others have watched us toy with the idea of city-living for years. I am somehow in between, shocked but not surprised. There's a difference I think.

We've known this for some time and for whatever reason I couldn't bring myself to say it here, in this bloggy space, but the growing need to share with you the many trials and tribulations of moving a family across the country is forcing me to just get over this weird hump. So there you have it. 

We are moving. If "I Left My Heart in Massachusetts" were a song I would post it here.

More to come of course. I'll be posting craigslist apartment listings over on the Small Victories facebook page if you want to watch me hunt. It's pretty interesting.

BEFORE PINTEREST

AFTER PINTEREST

We were in our early 30's by the time our incomes and imaginations could handle the couch bill, and Hallelujah! Even though it was the cheapest one in the place it was the only one we wanted. 

This is Part Two in an effort to catalog how we came to own most of our stuff and how much it cost us. Part One was the porch, which was much cheaper.