The Moving Diaries: Binging and Purging

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I'm fascinated by the reality TV hoarding shows. This comes from my anti-hoarding tendencies. Sentimental value goes out the window with me when it comes to deciding what stays and what goes. If you ever need to clean out your attic or clothes closet but lack the willpower to throw things away, call me. I am the queen of tough decisions. If it's not practical and doesn't get used, off it goes to live a life of purpose somewhere else. 

Which is why I'm astounded to discover how much stuff we've accumulated over the years. We've been in our current home for 17 years. It doesn't have a lot of storage and again, Blair and I are both pretty good at letting go, so where did all this accumulation come from?

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The Moving Diaries: Mirrors, Letting Go & The Big Picture

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I think it's safe to finally, unequivocally announce that Blair and I are moving to Greensboro. I've been hesitant to announce it, almost like a new pregnancy. You just want to make sure everything takes before accepting the well wishes of family and friends. But all evidence points toward a move. We have bought a house. We have our beloved home up for sale. We spend our nights bickering over what pieces of furniture will make the transition and which will be left behind. So yes, it appears the move 25 miles south is a done deal. 

For a brief, magical week, everything fell into place.

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Shameless Flirting

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I'm sitting in Starbucks and it's packed. I'm at a small round table by the door and the only open table in the house is a two-top so close to my table it's practically on top of it. Two slow-talking southern gentlemen in jeans and rain jackets who I'm guessing are early to mid 70's just approached with their coffee. 

"Mind if we sit there?" they drawled, nodding toward the table. 

"Not at all," I said. "I was hoping two good-looking men would come along and sit by me."

They perked up, smiling. "Well, I'm just sorry he's one of your options," said one, nodding toward his friend as they squeezed in at the table. 

"Do you like oatmeal-raisin cookies?" asked the friend, ignoring his friend's barb. "'Cause I have two in this bag and I'm more inclined to share with you then this fella here." 

I politely declined the cookie but sat and chatted with the two of them for a few minutes about running, gyms, the weather. The one man kept trying to share his oatmeal-raisin cookie with me. 

"Lord girl, you ain't got an ounce of fat on you. You need this cookie."  

Now they're sitting next to me, quietly discussing life - one is picking his dog up from the vet and can't wait to have him home and the other is having some trouble with his alternator in his truck. 

Lovely men, and a lovely break for me on this rainy day.

Power Up the Tower

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Five minutes, two seconds. That's how long it took me to run 30 flights of stairs (618 steps) Saturday morning for the 2013 Climb Ms: Power Up the Tower race at Winston Tower in downtown Winston-Salem. 

Let me say this about the race: "Ow." 

Team Erica captain Ron BookerFive minutes isn't very long, unless your thighs are screaming at you, your calf muscles hate you and by level 11 you feel like you've been hit with a lifelong smoker's cough. (The dreaded "dry lung" that occurs when running in a low-humidity environment like a stairwell.)

For all that, this was a FUN race. Climbers started in the basement level of the parking garage of the tower and then charged up the stairs to the finish line on the 26th floor.

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