But that isn't what this post is about. Not even close.
A young child is crying outside right now (at night on a Sunday), only more of a reminder to Baby and I we need to get the f out...a child screaming like it doesn't care that its head can't take it because it is let out free to do so and nobody worries what the crying is about. Just as long as everybody gets to hear about what the child is screaming to take the place of what the child could be saying. Something like, "Could someone please take me away from my parents, please! God, how lame...I'm only, like, ten years older than them!!" Well, that's not the only reason this neighborhood and this city and our worlds in it are headed straight for hell. But Babe and I are thirty years younger than the oldest members of ours and even we kinda feel like the crying kid might feel if it could speak in sentences instead of 80's horror movie teen screams.
And we are getting the f out. On November 2nd, we break contact. We're going to let that middle finger fly toward that colossal arch the minute we hit 44 and blow this popsicle stand!!!
The title of this post, "FINALLY!!", similarly indicates our feelings toward making a horrifying but exciting transition I haven't made in seventeen years and Baby hasn't made in nearly forty. Finally. Finally, a gift is placed at our doorstep. A gift pointing toward something positive. LONG-TERM positive. No, it's not a 2010 Volvo S80...it's a new LIFE. Yeah, several dozen factors--the climate, the animal welfare job opportunities Babe has out there, the mind-boggling proximity of my workplace to our new home--have secretly crept up our front steps and placed this no-longer mysterious gift on the porch.
But, just the same, there are factors that come from our "want" file besides the ones that come from our "need" file. The "want file" factors are the chance to be around my best dawg Rickey all the damn time and getting ASS OUT of the Midwest and kickin it fresh. We're sick of picking up the phone displaying a local number and making us think it's a job interview call when it's actually a phone interview asking us if we'd like the opportunity to work for a TIME SHARE. We're sick of next door neighbors on the weekdays pounding the stereos, shouting across to each other from three feet away on the street and puffin "the bleezy" past eleven. We're sick of utilities and equipment we use here at home tanking out on us then not getting fixed when it's promised. We're sick of living in a place where Albert Pujols clocking one over the centerfield fence is more important to the locals than neighbors picking up the litter on the other side of their own fence. Sick of hearing racial epithets and ethnic slurs at both jobs; the "n" word at my office job and the "t" word referring to Iraqi people at my retail job. Sick of a city slowly being laid out like a red carpet for the yuppies while leaving its poorer citizens on their asses on the concrete.
Sick of "the Lou". Sick of everything for which it stands. But not sick of the aura of happiness and excitement that has been carrying us in its loving arms and keeping us warm for the last month.
Get ready. All eyes on us. November 2nd: Mesa, Arizona or BUST!!! Finally....