Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I had a dream last night that my parents had up and sold our house and moved to Jennings, LA.
I've never been to Jennings, but apparently it wasn't too far from Boston, as directly after the move, I had to be at work downtown at Trinity. There were strange people also living in the house with us, and some really awful 80's reminiscent wallpaper. People were coming and going from the house, and I didn't have a room to sleep in. I think I ended up in the pantry, with my incredibly outdated cell phone plugged into the outlet to wake me up.

It doesn't take a dream analysis to figure out that I have anxiety about moving.

We have approximately three weeks left of school, in which I must finish this Poulenc paper, start and finish my Stravinsky paper, write my topic proposal for independent study, and do about four recitals for other people. They seemed like good ideas at the time.
And then we will go to Seattle to look for an apartment.

Some people in the program aren't even moving to Seattle. They're going to sublet their places and just rent a room in Seattle for the weeks at a time they need to be there. In some ways, I envy this possibility, but it also comes with a lifestyle that I don't have. They are single, have no pets, no cars, no serious quantities of furniture. I'm not saying I want to get rid of my husband/dog/sofa/bedroom set in favor of disposable furniture from K-Mart that can be left on the curb when we move, but there are times when that incredibly portable lifestyle seems very lucrative.

Most of my friends are married now. It's kind of cool, really. We get to talk about being married, go on double dates without it being awkward, have dinner parties. I spent last night doing a concert with a bunch of my married friends who are going through the adoption process. Things I did not know: if you are one half of a legally married lesbian couple in Massachusetts and one of you has a baby, the other then has to adopt the child in order to have legal rights as a parent. And, if you happen to be the gay man who fathered the child of the lesbian couple (yes, this conversation did take place last night over cheese and grapes between concert sets) you must sign over your rights to the child so that both women can be legal parents. And still, if you happen to be married to the gay man who fathered the child, you must sign a paper saying that you are not the father of the child and relinquish any claim you might have to the child. Or, if you are the wife of the lesbian who donated an egg to a couple, you must also sign the paper saying you are not the father of the child. Yes, I'm being totally serious about that one.
It's all terribly interesting, but none of it applies to me directly :)

I get to babysit for my friends' kids, playing Tante for a little while and dreaming of the day when I have my own house and my own yard and I can go sit on my back porch in my swing with my dog and my kids. Whenever that happens, and however it happens for opera singers.
It's a weird time in my life. I'm at the start of my career that's looking pretty good these days. I'm twenty-seven, married with dog (who is sleeping sweetly on my foot as I type) but I honestly don't know when those other chapters of my life are going to start (house, kids).
We're moving for the third time in three years and when my parents ask me how long we're going to be in Seattle, I really don't know what to tell them. I'm trying to finish up my doctorate coursework by December so I can advance to candidacy by spring and write my dissertation, but that will also depend on how the opera singing part works out - I have a few years to figure out that one yet.

Hubby says we don't have to worry about this right now because the only thing that's immediate is finishing the papers that are due in the next three weeks and he is likely right.
Sam the dog does not care where we live, so long as he can sniff and lay in the sun and chew on his Kong toy so in the meantime, I will try not to fret. (fretfretfretfret)

Fresh coffee.