The beard is gone. I had stopped shaving the day Composer was born. I can still grow a handsome beard in about three weeks or so, though just a hint of gray peppers the coloration. But Rocket seems to like the look of my beard more than its prickles. Besides, she says, she likes my clean-shaven face too. My hair has grown long again... or longish, not quite to my shoulders, but longer than it's been for a couple years. I've been wearing t-shirts, jeans, and sweatshirts a lot more lately, and fewer button downs and slacks. I've no one to impress at the moment, no classrooms or presentation halls to stand up in front of. I'm on no one's schedule (at least no one over the age of 5!), except my own.
Yesterday, I picked up a vanload of used boxes from the movers, free. I got the van serviced (30k mi) this morning. The car was given its 60k mi servicing a couple days ago. Yesterday, I took one of the cats to the vet because of an eye infection. Last week I and the boys visited the dentist. Lots of little details in preparation for the big change.
Lately, Rocket and I have worried over many things, some worthy of our concern, others not. Truth is, this is a measured decision that we have come to together. There are risks and benefits. Most importantly, we asked ourselves what it is we want from the next few years. This choice to move, to buy a house again, in an inexpensive area, near family, where we can build a community, where we can live off savings for a couple years if necessary, seems to be the best of many. Rocket wants a hiatus from her career; I want the chance to forge one that's more dignified and meaningful than adjunct servitude. Where we're going affords us that.
I'll gladly swap the weather report for the traffic report.