Because Truth Can Be Found Anywhere...

"The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mundane worldly order. In the seach for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you've given up. Every religion in the world operates on the same common understanding of what it means to be a good disciple--get up early and pray to your God, hone your virtues, be a good neighbour, respect yourself and others, master your cravings. We all agree that it would be easier to sleep in, and many of us do, but for millennia there have been others who choose instead to get up before the sun and wash their faces and go to their prayers. And then fiercely try to hold on to their devotional convictions throughout the lunacy of another day.

"The devout of this world perform their rituals without guarantee that anything good will ever come of it. Of course there are plenty of scriptures and plenty of priests who make plenty of promises as to what your good works will yield (or threats as to the punishments awaiting you if you lapse), but to even believe all this is an act of faith, because nobody amoungst us is shown the endgame. Devotion is diligence without assurance. Faith is a way of saying, 'yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding.' There's a reason we refer to 'leaps of faith'--because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable, and I don't care how diligently scholars of every religion will try to sit you down with their stacks of books and prove to you through scripture that their faith is indeed rational; it isn't. If faith were rational, it wouldn't be--by definition--faith. Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch. Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap fo faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy.

"I'm not interested in the insurance industry. I'm tired of being a skeptic, I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate. I don't want to hear it anymore. I couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water."

-Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

Call me Mellow Yellow

On Tuesday, my friend Robin B. gave me a quart and a half of fresh cream. Tonight, I made butter for the first time. Beautiful, yellow, fall butter.

It was fun. It was easy. And I can't wait to sink my teeth into a piece of toast slathered in the stuff.

Want some?

And that's just what's so cool about the Internet...

I started this blog a little over two and a half years ago, because my friend Colleen inspired me to do so. A few months later, Colleen also suggested that I check out another cool blog she had found, hosted by Kelly. At the time, Kelly was a daily poster, and in her years of blogging she had gathered an amazing community of on-line friends, of which I somehow, over time, became a part. Despite the fact that Kelly is currently on an indefinite hiatus, many of the people I met at her place are now on my blog roll, and some have become on-line friends.

Aakanksha was one of those that I met at Kelly Well's. Hailing from Calcutta, she was a student at an Australian university when I met her, finishing up a degree in robotics engineering (so THAT wasn't intimidating at all!) We went from commenting on each other's comments on Kelly's (and Colleen's!) blogs, to commenting on each other's blogs, to chatting over Google Talk, to being on each other's Facebook friends, to sending each other lengthy e-mails about life, the universe, and everything. In the process, she moved to London to start a new job and got engaged. (I tried to get her to play hostess to my brother when he was over there, but that didn't work out. I'm kinda glad, actually--I would have been a little jealous if Logan got to meet her before I did!)

This past weekend, Aakanksha had to present a paper at a conference in Vancouver, B.C. Wouldn't it have been lovely if we weren't all "up in the air" about a move, so I could have driven out to meet her? 'Twas not to be, though.

However, imagine my surprise when she called me out of the blue on Saturday evening! I got to hear her lovely Calcuttan/Aussie/British/mixed-up accent for the first time, in her sweet voice. So. cool.

But that was not half as cool as the fact that after signing up for Skype on Monday, Aakanksha was my first Skype conversation today. Since she has a webcam, I got to see her talking to me in real time. And Mark, too. And they blew bubbles at me in celebration of our counter-offer being accepted on the house!

When we finished, I immediately called Jason and said, "Please order me a webcam!"

Free worldwide video-phone calls? There goes productivity!

I feel like I'm in Star Trek! :-)

"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."*

Sometimes the words come easy, like milk frothing out of a clean, glass jar, filling up the glass and overflowing onto the laminate before you even have time to realize what was happening.

Sometimes, they are more like soured cream, in thick, smelly lumps, each one making a loud splat as you tip the jar into the sink.

Sometimes the words are so stale, and so stagnant, they've become cheese. Blue cheese. Stinky, crumbly, their days of flowing so long forgotten they hardly realize they came from the same source as that bubbly glass of milk.

Tonight, I feel like Blue Cheese.

I'm tired, 'cause I have been working hard to keep a house clean (thank the Lord my mother has been around lately to help with that!) AND trying to get myself organized for a new school year (which I am not very good at, yet, seeing as this is only my first whole year of home schooling) AND trying to get organized for a move (which I'm not really allowed to pack for yet, since we haven't sold the house, and we all know a house full of furniture is much more appealing than a house full of boxes).

We had a showing over the lunch hour today, so Mom and I decided we would just head out and do some errands, eat out, and then come home. However, while we were eating our lunch, the realtor called and said the people wanted to see it a second time tonight at 6:45 for an hour. Of course, we said "yes", but I didn't want to go home and make a mess to be cleaned up again (since, as everyone knows, making messes is what little boys do best.) So, we spent the entire day inventing things that we could do around town, succeeding rather admirably, actually. Our van is now very clean (at least on the outside), we now possess a few more Easy Reader books, and I feel pretty crappy from all the junky restaurant food I ate today (the Chinese food for supper was the pièce de résistance.)

BUT!

It was all worth it! Tonight we had our first offer on the house. Not a bad one--this could actually work out.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high, though.

Funny how a little shift in the action can make all things seem possible, just when you were contemplating entering the Gloom Forest because it seemed like nothing was happening.

How was your Monday, friends?

*G.K. Chesterton

Various and Sundered Prayers

Dear God,

Please do not let Jason and Talena get any offers on their house. We don't want them to move away.

Signed,

Peace River Chapter of Friends of the Winters

***

Dear God,

Please let us sell our house soon, so I can stop cleaning it every. single. day.

Signed,

Exhausted in Alberta

P.S. Thank you for providing us with so many loving friends. But please don't listen to anything they say.

Come To Me, All You Who Are Weak and Burdened, And I Will Give You Rest*

Untitled Hymn (Come To Jesus)
Chris Rice

Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for love is passing by
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live!

Now your burden's lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain, so
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live!

And like a newborn baby
Don't be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk
Sometimes we fall...so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live!

Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live!

O, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can't contain your joy inside, then
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live!

And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

*Matthew 11:28 NIV

Of Dogs and Dragons

Jude has a very active imagination. He loves to come up with new characters. For instance, he came up with his own Transformer, which he called "Dog." He also came up with his own dragon, which he calls a "monkey dragon."

Mom: What does your monkey dragon look like?

Jude: A monkey face, green eyes, yellow wings, and a crocodile tail with pokies, and a rock nose, and a horse kinda-- (indicating a long nose.)

Mom: Snout?

Jude: Yeah, a snout. And a brown snout, and it has bear legs, it has six bear legs, and it has... I'm going to tell you about the little egg to go on here.

Mom: Okay.

Jude: The egg has a crocodile tail around it so it can protect the egg.

Mom: O-kay.

Jude: And the egg has yellow stripes and it's back is a yellow back.

Mom: The egg?

Jude: No, the monkey-dragon's back is a lion back.

Mom: Okay. And what can the monkey-dragon do?

Jude: It can blow rocks and it can blow monkeys so it can get the bad guys; and the monkeys can shoot bombs with their eyes.

Mom: Wow!

Jude: And the monkey-dragon has a force-field around it to protect it, it has a laser one.

Mom: It has a laser one? Is your monkey-dragon part robot?

Jude: Uh, no, but it's tail is.

Mom: Okay, so is that where the laser force-field is?

Jude: Yeah. It can put it's tail around it, even if it touches a pokie on itself it won't die.

Mom: Okay. Can we talk about Dog for a while now?

Jude: I made up Dog as a superhero.

Mom: I thought he was a Transformer.

Jude: Yeah, how many guys you wanna talk about now?

Mom: I thought we would just talk about Dog the Transformer:

Jude: Okay, we can talk about the superhero Dog another day.

Mom: So are you saying that the superhero Dog is different from the Transformer Dog?

Jude: Yep. They're different. The superhero Dog is just a dog, not a Transformer. And it has a cape on it's back.

Mom: Okay. What's his superpower?

Jude: Dog can blow fire out his mouth.

Mom: Okay. So how is he different from the Transformer one?

Jude: He's a Transformer Dog, but he can walk on four legs...

(Short discussion for clarification. Apparently, the superhero Dog is a pet to the Transformer Dog.)

Mom: Okay, so tell me about the Transformer Dog? What can he transform into?

Jude: A rock, if the bad guys are going to attack him, if he sees a bad guy or anything. And he has three guns, he has a gun on his head and on his arms, and the kind of bullets he has on his head go superfast, and he has all guns on his arms and all around his head and on his two arms. On the first arm it blows BIG bullets, and on the second arm it blows little bullets, and on his head it blows really tiny bullets. So how they come out is they go in Dog's arm when he's gonna have a fight with a bad guy they come out like this. (Indicates with his hand on his arm.) He has four guns on each arm. One can go to the front, one can go this way (pointing out) one can go this way (pointing in) and backwards.

Only on his head it only goes frontwards and backwards. He has two going backwards and two going frontwards. He has eyes in the back of his head.

Mom: Kind of like your mom, hey?

Jude: Nope! You don't have eyes in the back of your head! God made you with no eyes in the back of your head!

Mom: Oh, but maybe they're invisible! Isn't it funny how I can see you when I'm not looking at you?

Jude: (Apparently, no response to that.) And Dog can turn into a fighter plane.

Mom: Anything else?

Jude: No, but a couple more things, when he's a fighter plane, he can go zooom! and he's the fastest Transformer you've ever seen. If a Transformer is gonna help a bad guy, and Dog sees 'em, he just flies up and throws them down to the ground! And that's pretty much all about Dog.

Mom: Okay! Thanks for helping me!

Jude: You're welcome!

(Much later, after a bath.) And Mom, I didn't tell you about the monkey dragon's ears, so I'll just tell you right now. It's cheetah ears.

Mom: (typing) Okay. Anything else?

Jude: No, that's all I need to tell you.

Arrrgh!

Last Monday, we were feeling a little "piratey" around here. Since I can almost never, if ever, resist the face of a cute little boy in a black do-rag and eye-patch, here are some photos of my littlest two pirates.

(So I'm a little behind in my posts! So sue me!)

Jabin started it.

Noah couldn't resist dressing up, too. Apparently, the eye patch gets in the way of actually seeing.

The eye patch didn't seem to bother Jabin as much. He kept taking his off, but then insisted on putting it back on. Or rather, having Mommy put it back on. Only about 80 times or so, and then Mommy thought that it was getting a little old!

In which I blatantly plagiarize my brother, who was imitating me

PLEASE go and read the articles my brother posted here. Quick! Do it now! I'll wait.

"Alarming" does not begin to describe how I felt as I learned that our ocean was a worse toxic waste dump than I had ever dreamed possible.

Then, I would like to remind you that there are websites dedicated to educating us about other, better ways of doing things.

www.pathtofreedom.com
www.naturemoms.com
Greenopolis.com

Are there any sites that you recommend?

Here I Am!

Just Me. Sitting here, thinking, *Wouldn't it be great if the house-cleaning fairy came and cleaned all five of my bathrooms today? Ha!*

Myself, also thinking, I love it when little boys play together without screaming. Even if the T-Rex is roaring so constantly it sounds like a storm blowing in. Let's go have some sourdough bread.

Also thinking, *Mmm, I love the smell of fresh-baked bread. But just because I already baked bread today doesn't mean the bathrooms don't need to be done. What if we had a last-minute showing tonight?*

The voice in the other hemisphere of my brain pipes up, You mean, because there is so much risk of that? We've had what, ONE so far?!

*But there was that last-minute one that canceled in the last half-minute last night! What if they call back?*

Ah, the eternal optimist. Tell ya what, let's recap the weekend for the folks and see if you just change your mind.

So, I turned 31 on Sunday. Not really in honour of the occasion, but it was a nice coinkidink, that my father and brother came up Friday night for the weekend, not leaving until about 4 on Sunday. On Saturday, we went golfing for Jason's company tournament--the first year that I was able to go with him, for various and sundry reasons. It was really fun. Dad golfed with us, Logan walked the course (in 32 degree weather! In black jeans and a black shirt! Crazy guy. He blames us, I know--"we didn't tell him about the golfing." Hee hee.)

Amanda and her kids came over for dinner on Sunday--I cooked up a venison roast, and she helped me prep the whipped potatoes, gravy, carrot salad and peas. Dessert of Oreo Fudge Ice Cream Cake from Dairy Queen was supplied by Logan and Dad. They were right--that chocolate swirl icing on top did say my name! I could almost hear it calling me! :-)

After my birthday every year, it always seems like some magic switch is thrown. The weather starts to get chillier, and my thoughts start switching gears from summer to fall. So the last couple of days I have been starting to prepare for the new school year--no easy task, considering we do not yet know our exact moving date. Thanks to the move, we will likely start school a little late this year, and do it less intensely until we get settled down there a little better. Not that I'm worried--it's only grade one. We can "catch up" by doing full days for a while after we move, instead of only the half days I had intended to do.

I bet the pie crust is soft enough to go roll out now.

*Then with the bathrooms?*

Sigh. Alright, if you insist, we'll do the bathrooms.

Guess Me, Myself and I have come to a decision. Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Re-Composing History

"What is this thing?" Logan asked, looking at me. The "thing" in question was a small but surprisingly heavy shiny metal rod that had been shaped into a triangle, and was suspended by a brightly-coloured nylon cord attached to a very small, rounded, red wooden handle. My brother kept swinging it around by the cord. "Is it an actual musical instrument, or a weapon?"

"Both," I replied. "It's a child-sized triangle. I don't know where the stick is for it." A twinkle popped into my eye. "But musical instruments often double as weapons, you know. That's why you would always see the Mafia walking around with violin cases."

"Uh, Talena, those had guns in them," my Dad said, but I refused to be deceived.

"No, just violins," I replied nonchalantly.

"What, 'If you don't talk, I'm going to play my violin at you?!'" he teased, imitating a maddened Mafia henchman with evil intent about to play something dark and Russian.

"Well, you know, some of them were saxophones," Logan chimed in.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. That's why they had so much sax and violins."

Disclaimer to the members of my family who may feel like correcting me on any part of the above conversation: While some of the exact wording may have been changed, the purpose of the conversation remains the same. This is how I remember it--and conversations around a breakfast table do not always translate well verbatim to the written word. End of disclaimer.

Scanned In

36 degrees Celsius.

That's how hot it was downtown today. I was going to create a digital layout and post it here tonight of all the fun we had at the splash park today, but I got busy scanning in old layouts instead. So in lieu of the layout I haven't got made yet, I am posting another layout that epitomizes today: Jude whining. Sigh. He got to skip supper tonight because he was whining about it. I just hope he doesn't puke in the morning before we can put something in his stomach.

When will the boy ever learn?


Edit: Okay, I got 'er done. Enjoy!

Life I love you, All is groovy!

Simon: I'm trying to put this as delicately as I can...how do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?

Mal: You don't know me, son, so let me put this to you plainly: If I ever kill you, you'll be awake. You'll be facing me. And you'll be armed.

Simon: Are you always this sentimental?

Mal: (smiling) I had a good day.

Simon: (incredulously) You had the Alliance on you, criminals and savages... half the people on the ship have been shot or wounded including yourself, and you're harbouring known fugitives!

Mal: We're still flying.

Simon: That's not much.

Mal: It's enough.

- from Firefly, pilot episode

Unless I really stop to think about it, I don't usually realize how much worry and anxiety have become near-constant companions of late. Unless I really sit and start adding it up, I don't see how long the stress that has been eating away at the more care-free parts of my soul has been at work. It has been subliminal, mostly, until I forgot all the good, take-charge-of-my-attitude type lessons that I learned from a young age. Emotion carries me, always simmering beneath the surface of a semi-calm veneer, often plunging me towards depression, or anger, or sadness.

As I stood in the shower this morning, letting the warm water wash away the sleep from my brain, I could feel the tug of the depressing thought patterns try to get me on board their downward-spiraling roller coaster for another day, one that would leave me lonely, aloof, and withdrawn. It was like a sudden flash of insight had let me see clearly what would happen if I chose to get on the car--and with the insight, I was given the ability to see another way.

"No," I said with determination. "Today will be a good day."

Funny how, when you make a decision like that, your whole attitude shifts. Funny how the forces of the universe almost seem to align to prove you right.

Immediately, I started focusing on more positive things with hardly any effort at all. The shower felt more refreshing. The chores I faced seemed less daunting. The sun coming the window looked brighter, if that was even possible.

Then! As the scrambled eggs were cooking for breakfast, I checked my e-mail, and found out that one of my scrapbook layouts has been selected for publication by Canadian Scrapbooker magazine! My first published layout ever! Yay! I knew it was going to be a good day.

Then! My oldest son came up with the most darling song, which he sang to me while he was doing a little kitchen chore I had given him and I was making lunch.

"I will never be alone
I'll stay with my mom and dad
I will never be alone
I like my mom and dad
I like to wrestle with my dad
I like to make crafts with my mom
My mom likes flowers
My dad likes scary movies."

While I'm sure we will both have something to say in a few years about the "staying with my mom and dad" bit, for now it was a sweet sentiment that made me grin from ear to ear. I knew it was going to be a good day.

It was a cooker here today, and I decided we would have home-made shakes for lunch and drink them in the back yard, then head over to the park. The boys played over there for an hour and a half, while I alternated between helping them and knitting a few rows while sitting on my sling-chair in the shade. Relaxing. Fun. I knew it was going to be a good day.

Now, I intend to go seek out the cooler parts of my house (of which my office is definitely NOT one), and spend some time with my honey, and do some crafting in my basement later.

Yep, definitely a good day.

After all, I'm still flying, and that's enough.

I think that I'll decide that tomorrow will be a good day, today. How about you?

Breaking the Bread of Tradition

I remember the first time I tried to make bread. Actually, I'd like to forget it, but my dad won't let me--I've heard about the re-usable targets for his gun range ever since.

The second and third times were not any better. In despair, I called my source in times of kitchen trouble--my Grandma.

After pouring out my tale of woe, letting her listen over the phone as I bounced a couple of loaves off the floor for proof, she said, "I'm making bread tomorrow. Come up and make it with me--and bring your yeast."

Well. Did you know that yeast can go bad? At sixteen, I certainly didn't. After soaking it with sugar and warm water for ten minutes in a bowl and getting no reaction, Grandma declared that my yeast was bad and I would have to get more. I looked enviously at her perfectly-round loaves that made just the right sound when you tapped your fingernail on their perfectly-golden crusts, and thought, "Maybe after I've been making bread for seventy years, I'll be able to do this too!" Then, of course, I enjoyed a hefty slice that was swimming in butter.

I dutifully got the new yeast. While the next attempt I made at bread--albeit white--was markedly better than any previous one, the loaf was still dense and unsatisfactory. At that point, I gave up for a while, thinking I may as well have my dad keep buying the whole wheat from the store and bringing it home, rather than go through all that time and effort for something we only ate out of some twisted sense of obligation.

When I got engaged, I hinted loudly in several directions that I would like a bread machine as one of the wedding gifts. I figured any idiot could make bread in a machine, right? Well, I can't say for sure whether that theory was correct, but this idiot certainly managed it! We even got the wide, extra-long-slot toaster to go with it! Yippee!

This is how I made bread for years after that, and loved it! The machine had a "delay" feature, so we sometimes woke up to the aroma of freshly-baked bread. Not much beats that. And finally, finally, I no longer had to worry about my woeful lack of bread-baking talent in order to have our own, preservative-free loaves all the time!

Can you imagine how appalled I was to discover, upon becoming educated on the findings of Dr. Weston A. Price, that my whole-wheat loaves--while better than what I would have found in the store--were not as healthy as I had believed? That all that unfermented whole grain was chalk full of phytates, anti-nutrients that actually blocked nutrient absorption in the small intestine? That in my ignorance, I had been following the relatively recent dietary trends of our time (which arrived with the invention of dry yeast about a century ago), rather than preparing grains the way humans had benefited from them for thousands of years before that and fluorished?

But I don't like sourdough bread! I pouted at first. In reality, I had only had it once or twice, and my Californian aunt kept insisting that what we eat in Canada is not the really real sourdough bread, and does not even compare. So, I decided to give it a shot.

I found a couple of recipes for starter on the internet, but didn't have my own grain grinder at the time, so thought I would just see if I could do it with pre-ground rye flour from the store.

Nope. The starter went bad after only a few days. I threw it out, and decided instead that I would have to pay the exorbitant rates for sprouted-grain bread from the store (up to four times the cost of a regular loaf of whole wheat bread.)

That all changed when my mother gave me a grain mill for my birthday last year. However, despite my new-found grinding freedom, it took me a while to find a cost-effective source of wheat berries.

This summer, all the elements came together: grain mill, check! wheat berries, check! renewed desire to try making my own bread, check! decent starter recipe, check!

Last week, I took the plunge. I nursed my starter as the recipe said, feeding it, watering it, and singing it bedtime lullabies. And! It didn't go bad! After the seven days it takes to make, it had a slightly wine-like aroma, and looked just the way it was supposed to.

Last night, as I was pounding and kneading up my first batch of sourdough bread, several things occurred to me:

1. No wonder the Israelites were told to make unleavened bread before the Exodus from Egypt. If making enough starter for three loaves took seven days, and the rising process took another 12 hours, that is definitely not something you want to risk your freedom for. "But, I can't leave yet! The bread won't be done for another two days!" Nope, not worth it.

2. As I said to my husband, there is a certain amount of fun, for lack of a better word, in making a product like this for us to consume, rather than buying one more thing that took no thought, no planning, and has no value. It makes me feel connected to the millenia of people who have gone before and prepared bread just like this, who passed on the knowledge of how to do it from generation to generation, and who raised strong, healthy families by the love and sweat of their own brow.

This morning, as we sank our teeth into the first slices of warm whole-wheat sourdough bread, swimming in butter, I knew it was worth it. If Grandma was alive, I know she'd be proud of me, too.

And it didn't even take me until I was seventy!

The Great Stuff-Purging

Yard Sales, I have just discovered, are really the best way to meet your neighbours. One should really have a yard sale just after you move into a neighbourhood, not just before you leave it. This might be kind of counter-intuitive, considering that you probably didn't move anything into your new house that you didn't really want to keep.

So, on second thought, maybe just have an open house and invite all the neighbours over for tea and crumpets! (In other words, "Note to self!")

The yard sale on Saturday was a great success. Thanks to the long weekend, we were one of only two sales in town, which is pretty rare on a summer weekend. This meant we got all the traffic from the percentage of Peace River's population that was not on holidays.

There are some strange math processes that happen in a yard sale. At the beginning of the day, our tables were stuffed to overflowing. We sold stuff and gave stuff away and stuff got ripped off under our noses (well, maybe not. I can't really say on that one, but neither one of us remember selling that little baby tuxedo...) and at the end of the day, the tables were still full!! However, the pile that went back into our living room was only a fraction of the size of the one that left it that morning, and the stack of twenties in our money bucket testify to the fact that we unburdened ourselves of lots of the STUFF that has been hanging around here for way. too. long.

There is something liberating about it, you know? Like you want to run through your house and keep piling stuff on tables, saying, "Just take it all! I want to be free! FREE!!"

Well, not really. Funny how attached to certain stuffy-type items one can become. But it's also kind of funny how unattached one can suddenly become to 90% of one's possessions when one considers moving them 3000 miles away!

However, not to worry: there's always someone willing to sell you lots more stuff to replace the stuff we just got rid of!