I like to move it move it

Actually, after fifteen odd relocations over the course of my adult life, I really dislike moving--I was simply looking for a catchy title. Or I wanted to get this song stuck in your head. : )

Regardless, insert the cliche-- I've pulled the trigger, shacked up, I'm living in sin, people (and I love it).

The day began at at 8am by picking up our truck from Budget (which ended up costing an unGodly amount, much to my dismay, but I was unwilling to give Uhaul more of my business after a particularly bad experience when I moved here and began using their storage facilities in 2005). The weather was overcast and glacial, with a penetrating wind that left me chilled and tired for much of the evening after.

My fabulous friends Jorgie and Mike assisted, along with my sweet brother Kyle--who have all seen and helped move me way too many times over the years. Actually, I think the only reason Michael participated was to make sure I would break a sweat (he maintains I slacked off badly during the last two moves while everyone else did the grunt work. Considering the last time I was hungover from an emotional night of tequila and granola bars, I can't necessarily argue. However, both of my previous relocations happened inside the space of a week from the initial decision to the actual move, so I think I have a defense).



Anyway, if Robert had little reservation prior to the day, he certainly looked stunned and slightly overwhelmed when he saw my storage closet jammed to its maximum capacity. In an effort to get as much in there as possible, it was a creative "tetris puzzle of packing" (to quote him). Even at that, I ended up with 4 or 5 car loads of stuff stored at my parent's over the past two years. As the day wore on we were lucky enough to get rid of a few things, but Rob still threatened to hang out in the back of the moving truck and throw out anything he deemed unnecessary along the trip (which would have been most everything, I'm sure).

What was worse is he had the opportunity to read each box as he moved it and probably wondered why I was saving and packing all that crap to begin with (such as "poker appy units", and "poker dishes and books", to name a few). Never mind that every other box was literally marked as fragile (so many so, I thought the label would start to lose its effect and marked newer boxes as "very fragile"). : )

Before ending up at Rob's place (a spacious townhouse decorated Santa Fe style), we stopped to pick up our new furniture from Bedroom Outfitters (our first purchase together!), which was very exciting for me. I'm also proud to say I did the driving (aside from any tricky maneuvers executed by Kyle), which was oddly empowering. I was a bit charged to be commanding a 16 foot truck down the Deerfoot and propelling my things towards a new beginning.

Our first official night was spent cooking dinner together followed by watching Rocky IV (I am now hooked on the series and disappointed it's coming to an end, believe it or not). Now that I'm here, I'll be spending my time not taking things personally and just recovering from the general stress that such a change brings on (regardless of how positive or thrilling).

But as I mentioned before, if there is anyone worth taking a risk with, it's Rob.

It feels a bit like the last Calvin and Hobbes comic strip:

You give Rocky a bad name

The other night I happened to catch an episode of Survivor Fiji in which one of the players is referred to as Rocky--I assume because of a slight resemblance to the illustrious Sylvester Stallone character.

Let me assure you, this is where any similarity ends. As the episode unfolded I became increasingly dismayed, which I think would go as far as leaving a bad aftertaste in the mouth of any Rocky fan.

Survivor Fiji "Rocky" pushes around tribe members he considers weaker, is obnoxious, lazy, and makes comments like, "No offense, I love women. But in this type of environment, this type of game, you don't need any stupid girl stories or distractions or anything stupid like that."

Now consider the story behind Rocky. It's really about about two things: love and a metaphor for how many times a person can get knocked down but keep moving forward. In Rocky III, Rocky takes Adrian all over hell with him--he's training in the slums of LA, he's got Adrian at his side; he's having a melt down on the beach, it's his wife who helps him work through it. When Rocky bails out his no-good brother in-law Paulie, who's angry at his lack of success, Rocky takes it in stride and invariably gives him a job. He doesn't try and teach him a lesson by belittling or shaming him.

So for this clown to refer to himself as "Rocky" (self appointed or not) and act like a jackass is quite disrespectful to the character that is Rocky. True Rocky fans enjoy the character and series because of what they represent: a triumph of spirit and will. I wonder if Survivor "Rocky" has ever seen the bloody movies?

I suppose I am to chalk yet another thing up to "missing the point".

By the way, Rocky enthusiasts will be happy to note that although the Rocky figurine may be difficult to find, they can get the meat fairly easily (seriously, you can buy the "meat" figurine from Rocky). It doesn't get better than this, people.