Hello there. We (the human parts and the things parts) are officially moved in. These two orange pods above carried our stuff across this vast country and when we opened up the doors, nothing had shifted. As if a glider pulled by very steady elves had pulled these boxes gently across the country. This was good because we were both prepared to crack open the doors and have things tumble out on our heads after it was packed tight on the starting end. And so the unpacking of stuff began.

And this fact I’m about to tell you might express what was happening in my brain/body best: I wore the overalls, which I stole from Dennis, that striped shirt, and those Converse sneakers pictured above for five solid days, only pausing to remove during sleep. In a way, they became like my jumpsuits: A uniform to move me through what was happening each day without really needing to think too much about it. Utilitarian.

But naturally that got me to thinking about two things: how I express myself through clothes and what a uniform can represent (besides freeing that part of your brain that thinks about outfits). More about the former in a bit. Regarding the latter: to me there is comfort in sameness. As I’ve hinted at before, change is disruptive and, at least to me, can be terrifying. I have a tattoo that translates into impermanence on my wrist so I can be reminded that everything changes. Which naturally scares the shite out of me. But the interesting thing is that I always drift toward the darkside when I think of change. Why not the light side (or even the middle grays, which are more realistic)?

Truth: This move is all of those things, because of course it is. Spending time with my dad is amazing. Today is his 94th birthday. Here we are in his pad last week sitting in front of his fireplace, him with martini, us with glasses of wine, plus guacamole and chips.

The sun does shine a lot. Our place has space outdoors to sit. I’m learning to temper my impatience about the pace of things (slower in service, but lots of smiles). Dennis and I have come to the conclusion that really, the kinds of walls that we hit proverbially in NYC (I’m looking at you MTA, gruff deli dude, Spectrum waiting area) are delivered with a what-you-see-is-what-you-get frown. The funny thing out here is that they turn that frown upside down (yes, I just did that) but are still building the same barriers (I’m looking at you refrigerator delivery people, apartment manager, cashier at the CVS). And for real, that’s just how all life is. People. Personalities. Patience or not. All I can control is how I move with it. And also how I see myself in it. Not so long ago, literally one month, I climbed into an outfit and stepped through the doors of the stunning Hearst Tower in Columbus Circle. I felt my identity inside of that. But in reality, my identity was never only that, just the current carrying me along.

Here, I’m swimming in a new stream and creating a new current. Yikes.

And about that expressing-myself-through-clothes thing. Just this last Tuesday I wore my slippers to Home Depot. My slippers. Outside. And not on purpose. People, I forgot to put on real shoes. This was a sign. Of what, I’m still parsing. Fine, the slippers are cute Sahalie’s, but still it scared me a little when I looked down halfway there and saw them on my feet. But of course we didn’t turn the truck around. We kept on driving and I made a mental note (I may have yelled out a brief “Oh my gawd” also). And that’s what I mean about change. Moving forward even if there’s a jarring moment. Moving forward…

What’s something you’ve worn out in public that you forgot you had on?