A Tale of Intense Coincidence

On a Wednesday afternoon earlier this year, the sunshine and light breeze begged me and the girls to eat outside. I didn't usually like to do that on a weekday because of the extra time it took to pack the picnic which would keep me away from work, but I could not refuse that weather. Off we went to our park in Irvine, but it didn't have any shade so we continued on to the next park. There's one every few hundred yards in Woodbridge; it's both excessive and magical. We had never been to park number two before, but it had a lovely covered picnic area so it worked out.

We had the picnic area to ourselves for a minute, but then a woman came along with her two kids who seemed to each be just a smidge younger than Margot and Eiley. I asked about her kids, even though I rarely talk to strangers in depth, and the conversation continued for over half an hour. She told me she lived nearby right now, but she was in the middle of a separation and might either move up to Davis where she had a job opportunity or down the street where they owned a townhome - but they'd need to kick out the current renters for that option. She told me about her marriage ending and about her baby boy's upcoming cleft palate operation and about her sister who lives in Texas and about the dog that her husband gave her as a gift that she never wanted and loathed. We spoke easily and I started to hope that she'd end up with the townhome option because maybe we could be friends.

I needed to get back to work, so I told her it was so nice to meet her and we started to leave.
"Bye, Jess!" I said.
"Ah, remind me of your name," she replied.
Eiley quickly responded, "My name is Eiley. This is my sister Margot; my mama's name is Emily, my dog is Buster, and my daddy's name is Jeff."
Because Eiley said all that, Jess came back with "I'm Jess, this is Jo-Jo and baby James, our dog's name is Fido*, and their daddy's name is Jimmie."

My mind sped over to the piles of mail we'd delivered to our landlords via our property manager over the past year, addressed to Jess and Jimmie. I considered that she had gestured in the general direction of our place when she mentioned the townhome she might move to if she stayed in the area. I blurted out "I LIVE IN YOUR TOWNHOME." If I had paused to think more before I spoke, I'd have kept that revelation to myself.

Her face transitioned from casual ease into mortification. Her thought was nearly legible: I just told her I might kick her out of her home soon. 

I quickly decided that this woman clearly had enough going on in her life, and she didn't need worrying about my family to enter her decision about her next step. I told her that Jeff and I were thinking about moving anyway (lie), we were even considering out of state (lie), and she should of course do whatever was best for her family (truth). She kept saying "awww," like she was looking at a particularly adorable puppy. I think she meant "I feel exceedingly awkward, but I don't know what to say." I tend to make terribly obvious jokes when I feel that way, but nothing was coming to me.

We said goodbye one last time, and I left feeling like there must be some reason we met this way. I believe that some things are coincidences, but this was too intense. I saw God in all of it. I wish I could tell you specifically how He used the situation, but I still don't know why it happened. Jeff and I ended up moving anyway, even though we really weren't thinking about it until much later. Jess didn't end up moving in. I saw them at Baskin Robbins a few weeks later. I asked about baby's cleft palate surgery, and she said "awww" a lot. And I've never seen them again.


*Dog name changed because I can't remember it.

moving. or: an exercise in not freaking out.

So, we're moving to California soon (just thought I'd throw that out there in case someone somehow missed it, as unlikely as that seems), and I am trying hard to trust that God is going to help us get everything together smoothly. I have some moments of lovely, peaceful trust. But other moments, my brain does this:

Figure out how to ship Buster.

Make reservation to ship cars.

Get a new job. 

Work out child care. (Hey, any California Lobsters want to be severely underpaid to watch an adorable Eiley full time? Part time? Hello?) 

Find a place to live that is somehow central to where I work, where Eiley is cared for, and where Jeff works - wherever any of that may be.

Sell any unnecessary stuff here in Virginia.

Determine which moving company to use, making sure they provide storage as well.

Repaint walls of apartment while trying to remember how much we enjoyed having not white walls the whole time we lived here.

Move.

Remain calm.

It's funny that I am capable of freaking out so much. It's ridiculous even. God has proven himself faithful over and over to me and Jeff, so why do I think things will be any different this time? Silly human me, stop worrying! I wish, instead, that my mind would Pollyanna up and do this:

We're going to California, where most of my family is, where we have a lot of great friends, where we love our church, and where the weather is beautiful a vast majority of the time. How exciting that I'll get to learn a new job, whatever it might be, and I wonder what great opportunities Jeff will encounter now that he has his degree and is somehow an even better actor than he used to be. Life is sunshine and happiness and unicorns and jelly beans and Lisa Frank stickers!

Okay, maybe some of that was overkill. And maybe you people should pray for me. 

Blank Canvas

"To everything, turn, turn, turn,
There is a season, turn, turn, turn . . . "

You are welcome for getting that song stuck in your head for the rest of today ;). I remember years ago, a friend of mine was getting married and feeling stressed out about the huge transition she was experiencing in her life. She was letting go of one way of life and waiting to enter into another. She described the anxiety of her season as being like the moment when a trapeze artist is hanging in the air between two bars - nothing to hold onto, no place to plant her feet, just flying and trusting in God to guide her hands to that next bar before gravity overtook her.

I feel a bit of peace these days, as if I've managed to grasp that next bar and enjoy a good, confident, safe swing. This after about a year and a half of hanging mid-air. Waiting to see if my thesis could get finished, if I would actually be able to graduate [a more challenging crisis for me than for most due to some special administrative circumstances], to see if I could get pregnant, to see if Manny would get a job, to see if the pregnancy would go smoothly, to see if we could make community in less than a year in San Diego, to see if Sofia would survive the first few high-risk months without succumbing to SIDS, to finally see what our new home would be like when we moved to Maine. And we're here, I graduated with my thesis, and Manny is employed, and Sofia is alive and well. So, now what?

Here I am swinging on my trapeze, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And I'm not quite sure what my next move should be. It's no longer a matter of trying desperately to squeeze in some developmentally stimulating activity time for Sofia, we have the whole day for her to learn and grow. So what do I do?? The house is generally unpacked, now what do I do with all this stuff and box-free-space? There are no more huge milestones to work towards and past, like a birth or a move. A relief, yes. But this is a new season. A new challenge. A blank canvas.

A blank canvas presents its own opportunities and its own fears. I am free, but for what - I don't yet know. It is time to find a new structure, settle into a new routine, explore new territory. I am excited, anticipatory, disoriented, and a bit unsure.

Maine so far . . .

We arrived in Maine on August 3rd and boy have we been busy! We got ourselves a Maine-worthy-car, we moved into our new home, we've seen lots of sites, and we've met lots of people. 

True to the iconic images of Maine, we've seen the boats lining the coast of the Atlantic ocean, we enjoyed our first lobster rolls, and we even saw a moose in the woods. 

Manny's colleagues couldn't even believe we saw the moose. Apparently people work here for decades hoping for a siting. Our life-long-Mainer-neighbor across the street had only seen one once. But the day our movers unloaded the first truck, we heard rumor of the moose, walked into the woods together, and sure enough, saw the sweet Eeore-esque creature calmly sitting in the woods. If you also don't believe me or trust the above photo, here's the local newspaper report for ya. Lest I fear we've already covered our bases in Maine, there's still the lighthouses and winter to come. 

I also managed to gain a whole year since we arrived. In addition to Emily's lovely birthday message, my  Manny christened our kitchen by making me a birthday breakfast. Having feared we would have trouble building community here, we did a crazy thing and invited the whole Math department and all our neighbors over for an ice cream birthday celebration in hopes of getting to know people. Leading up to the event, I feared Sofia wouldn't go to/stay asleep, that no one would show up, or that we wouldn't have enough ice cream. Turned out that five minutes before we planned for guests to arrive on our back deck it began to rain. We scrambled and moved things indoors. Somehow we managed to have a packed out kitchen [the one room I'd managed to unpack by then] and a sleeping baby through the whole thing. It was such a wonderful birthday!

Sofia and I have visited the farmers' market twice [I have to enjoy it while the weather is nice!]. It has swiftly risen up the list in things I love about Maine so far. Also included on this list are the wonderfulness of our neighbors [we are one of 5 houses on our street - street, not block] and the fact that we were able to get our drivers licenses, car insurance, and car registration all within the course of two hours.  

Wild Maine blueberries put to good use on left over birthday party ice cream.

Call it a honeymoon period, but I love Maine so far!

Move Complete

What a long process this move has been! It was March of 2010 that we made the decision to move to Maine. This June we started shopping around for movers. After weeding through all the options, we landed on Sullivan Moving and Storage [the United movers in San Diego]. And now the move is finally complete. 

Our moving coordinator, Chris, was fantastic. Immensely more knowledgeable than the other guys who came by to provide us with estimates, Chris was also incredibly responsive to all of my calls and emails peppering him with questions throughout the process. His offices were not as responsive or impressive - making complaints about the corporate offices  changing policies that caused delays or complications in my paperwork (I'm not a big fan of excuses). But in the end, everything came through ok, it just left me nervous in the waiting. 

We were moving belongings out of residences in three different cities [we've been a little slow to fully grow up and move all our stuff out of our parents' homes]. That meant three different crews to load up, and another crew to unload. [more on our loading process in San Diego] All of the guys we interacted with were great. They were professional, competent, and fun all at the same time. The day we unloaded in our new place, we took a lunch break while it rained outside. We enjoyed some pizza while the guys gave us advice about surviving the Maine winters. One guy spent half the time laughing at how crazy it was that a couple of California kids were about to face their first northeastern winter, but in a good natured way that actually helped to dispel some of the anxiety. 

Our stuff arrived in two shipments, one truck from California, one from Texas. The guys from Texas loaded that truck, drove it out, and unloaded it for me. It was a pair of brothers, Paul and Dwight. Having met my mom, who was managing the pick up there, it felt like I had family friends helping me set up my new home. They were even thoughtful enough to remember that my mom had mentioned I was allergic to dogs, so they dusted off some of the furniture to make sure no residual dog hair even entered my house. 

Despite the fact that we did all the packing ourselves ["our" should be read as including our extended family and friends - thanks everyone!], we consolidated belongings from six cities total into one home, and that the move included several very vulnerable pieces of antique furniture and dish-ware from my grandmother's collection I've been incredibly impressed that I can only find one nick about two inches long on one piece of furniture. Not too shabby United Van Lines! And not too bad, Reyes family! I'm kind of impressed with us for surviving all of this. Time to enjoy Down East Vacationland! 

Big City, Small Town

I’ve spent most of my life living in big cities, but am transitioning into a small town for the first time. I was born in Houston, Texas, population nearing 6 million in 2010 [about 2 million when I was born there]. That’s just the county I grew up in. I’m about to move to a state where the whole population is just over 1 million, and the town we’re living in has less than 20,000. 

This is going to be a big shift.

I’ve had about a year and a half to prepare myself for this change. I’ve had lots of different thoughts coursing through my mind. Having spent several years expecting to spend my life in urban areas, there was the initial freak out. But once we really decided to make this commitment, I also started fantasizing about some of the more romantic aspects of small town life.

Not living in a big city, I know from past experience that I will actually miss freeways, skyscrapers, the white noise of traffic/trains/rapid transit/buses.

I am looking forward to being able to walk most places in town, being surrounded by old New England architecture, and nature making more noise than machines.

I think I might miss the freedom of anonymity, but love the familiarity of acquaintance.

I’ll miss the bustle and buzz of a big city, but look forward to simplicity and peace of a small town.

I will miss the breadth of dining and entertainment options. But I also look forward to actually being able to know every restaurant in town and not have a list hanging over my head of places I need to try. 

I will miss having so many choices for everything (shopping, schools, parks, grocery stores). I will love having less decisions to worry over.

I’m going to miss the ethnic diversity and internationality of big cities, but look forward to seeing more economic diversity amongst neighbors. 

We’ve been thinking lately about how both in inner cities and suburban neighborhoods, most people have to “get out” in order to work at good jobs. It creates this spatial disconnect between family and work. While I can see some advantages to having these things separated, I am looking forward to our children growing up in the same space where all the adults in their lives work. They’ll be able to see their parents’ offices and colleagues and get a sense for what having a career looks like on a more intimate level than maybe just a once/year “take your kid to work day.” 

Help me out, Lobsters. What are some of the other pros/cons of big cities and small towns? Here's one guy's research-based thoughts. What am I forgetting to miss and what do I not know to look forward to? What are some of the cons of small town life I should be preparing myself for?

We've Moved!

It's official! We are a family of "Mainers" now. Our flight got in late Wednesday night, we picked up our car on Thursday, and we got our keys Friday.

Sofia has been an amazing trooper through it all. I feel horrible for all the stress of traveling, different residences every few nights, millions of new faces that she has had to endure. Not to mention the lack of routine or play space she's had to suffer. If she never learns to walk, I'll blame it on the move. Can't blame her for taking lots of naps!

While crashing at a colleague's place, waiting for the keys to our house, we already enjoyed some beautiful rain and checked out the farmer's market. 

Farmer's Market on the Town Green.  Remind anyone else of Gilmore Girls?
PS - yes they were selling lobster off the back of a truck. We ARE in Maine!

We got the keys to the house, but our moving truck won't arrive until Monday, so we're just camping out [sleeping bags and all] and standing in awe of this amazing place where we get to live. Oh - and enjoying the housewarming present Emily sent to Sofia - and alphabet book called L is for Lobsterall about the state of Maine. All three of us are learning so much! How Emily finds things like this never ceases to amaze me! Thanks Auntie Em!

We're feeling pretty happy about our new digs!

It amazes me that we don't still live in an apartment. The house is amazing. And yet, what I find myself totally captivated by right now is the fact that we have a yard. Last night, we picniced on our back porch and enjoyed dusk together. 

First meal in our new home. Gourmet!

I told Manny that I feel like we have our own personal state park. It all feels too good to be true. But I keep reminding myself that it hasn't started to snow yet. For now, I will revel in my bliss and take the weather as it comes. 

Today, we are off to a Lobster shack. Can you believe that Manny and I have never REALLY had lobster? Not a bad first place to check it out, eh? We'll let you know how that goes!

Thanks to everyone who has sent well wishes along our way. More updates to come on settling in as our stuff arrives. I hope you are all enjoying your weekend, Lobsters!

How to survive a long-distance move with an infant

Soon after I got pregnant, I started to worry about how we were going to be able to move cross country with a small baby. My friend, Faith, just made a similar trek [documented on her blog, The Pickle Patch]. She gave me hope that it was doable, but then again, she is amazing, so I knew she was making things sound easier than they would be for me. Just over a year later, the time has come. Here we go! 

Today is the day we've been promised to get the keys to our new house. So we've made it part of the way through the process. I've learned a few lessons about moving with an infant. 

1) Ask for help. I have a completely untrue fantasy in my head that I am a woman that can handle anything. That makes it hard to ask for help, but I know I need it sometimes. So far: 

• Our community group brought us meals so we didn't have to pack our kitchen at the last minute or eat out a million times. I think more than the meals, it was great to get to spend one last hang out time with each of them so we could say proper goodbyes. 
• Neighbors, friends, and family took lots of food and miscellaneous items out of our house that we couldn't move with us, easing my neurosis about anything going to waste. Neighbors also made us feel like we would be missed in our building, and that felt amazing.
• My amazing husband and my friend Amy's amazing husband [Paul] baby sat our baby girls so that Amy and I got to go see Bridesmaids. Oh how good it was to laugh for about two solid hours! This was my first movie in a theater since Sofia was born. What a treat! Thank you Paul and Manny!!!
• Our friends, Lexie and Jamie, let us stay in their apartment so we could be more ready when the movers arrived and didn't have to make a long road trip on the same day that the moving took place. They were so gracious. They cooked for us, entertained us, and were all around amazing hosts. [Technically, I didn't ask for this, they offered, but I accepted the help, so I'm leaving it under this point]
• Both sets of our parents came to help us pack, and by pack I mean they played with Sofia while we packed. Poor Grandparents. [ok, they did pack some boxes!]

2) Don't get divorced. Moving is stressful folks. Everyone who calls to check up on us keeps asking if the stress is ending our marriage. And I'll be honest. There were a non-zero amount of fights and tension. There were some talks about communication, equal work loads, gender roles, etc. Somehow we worked through that and we actually still love each other, I think, right Manny? It did not hurt that my parents made it possible for us to take some date nights by baby-sitting Sofia. We got to go out to dinner and a movie! Granted, I was too worn out to do both in one night, but that just meant we got to spread out the fun. MMmmm . . . rissotto balls!

3) Sprinkle in some fun. Between parenting an infant, selling our car, arranging a cross-country move from three cities at once, packing, setting up utilities in a new state, the work load was exhausting. Did I mention that said infant had not one, but TWO teeth break through in the middle of all of this? 

This was in between tooth one and tooth two breaking.

It's not been the easiest month or two of my life. But it helped that we managed to have some fun through the process. Our friends, Nate and Annie, visited from the Bay Area. We got to visit my sister. My parents came and took us out to good restaurants and we took them to the Wild Animal Park.

I'm sure I'm forgetting many of our fun activities we squeezed in between the boxes and arrangements. But I think my favorite part was the songs Manny and I made up to sing to Sofia out of complete delirium. I think Sofia was properly entertained as well. Personal favorite? Start singing Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" in your head, now replace the sexual lyrics with "Boxy Lady" and fill in some text about packing and moving, and you've pretty much got it. Awesome. The things you do when you have a baby!

Somehow I fear that unpacking without all our great friends, family, and neighbors around means the hardest part is yet to come, but there's no deadline and things have gone well enough so far, so I'm hopeful. Wish us luck, Lobsters [and if you love Jesus, please pray]!  

Goodbye California

Goodbye California!

Today we fly to Maine with a one way ticket. 

Goodbye land of golden hills and glistening blue waves. Goodbye land of season-less perfect temperatures. 

Goodbye first home outside of the state of my birth. Goodbye to the state where I fell in love with my husband. Goodbye to the state where I gave birth to my first child. 

Is it possible that we will live more than five miles away from the Pacific Ocean? Is it possible that we will wake up to snow falling outside our window? Is it possible to live in a land that does not have In-N-Out?

You've given us so much. Road trips through your hills. Moonlit bonfires on your beaches. Both countless calories and the beautiful weather in which to burn them off. You've given us the saints Barbara, Francisco, and Diego to show us hospitality and new ways of looking at community, church, and communion. You've given our family four degrees and maybe even more education in out-of-school contexts. You've given us a few years to be in driving distance of Manny's family and "Auntie Nina"/my sister Lauren. 

And you've given us so many friends we are sad to have to say goodbye to. 

Farewell ocean, farewell hills, farewell apartments. 

It's been a glorious decade! 

Move: phase one

In June, I wrote about the movers I decided not to hire. Since then and now, I've been a little bit nervous about my choice as it took weeks for them to get the actual contracts to me. I was afraid no one would show up when it was time to go. BUT! despite my fears, last week, the movers I did hire came and moved all our stuff out. We spent about a month preparing and packing, pacing ourselves due to the infant factor:

Somehow, miraculously we were ready when they arrived. We'd even started cleaning the apartment a bit. This was a great contrast to our move last year when we were still packing at 2am the day before we were supposed to leave, and had to leave the apartment almost entirely unclean and several items of furniture in the dumpster. That was a stressful day. This moving day was 100% different. I would even say it was a bit boring.

These guys really knew what they were doing. They were professional, efficient, and friendly (but not TOO friendly). Two of the guys were parents and were talking about being dads, cute things about their kids, how to celebrate birthdays - it was precious. One guys' daughter has my middle name and he was excited to make that little connection. They all gushed over Sofia. But how can you blame them? They went on and on about how well behaved she was, which helped ease our stress.

One of my favorite parts about the guys was how uplifting they were to one another. It's one of those elements of professionality that too many people seem to forget these days. Instead of showing off to each other, being independent or grumpy, these guys were constantly teaching each other tricks about how to pack or lift things most safely and effectively. It made me feel reassured that they were all being really thoughtful about their process, and that there were at least half of them who had a very great knowledge about how to do things right. It is also encouraging to see people uplift one another.

Last year, packing up less stuff took from about 8am until 2am. These guys knocked out our apartment in less than three hours, including taking a break. It was unbelievable to see what professionals can do!

Of course my big question was going to be how they would handle our mattress situation, which I spoke of in my last post about movers. After hearing multiple other movers freak out over this problem, I watched in awe (so much so I had to record it the second time around) as they took care of our mattresses in 34 seconds. Fantastic.

I felt strange tipping them and saying goodbye because I couldn't believe they did it all so fast. We had the whole afternoon free to grab lunch, recuperate, and get the apartment cleaned and keys turned in days ahead of schedule. So far, these movers get an A from me. But the job is not complete, I'll have to wrap up the full report when our stuff arrives at its destination. 

In the mean time, I have not a single key on my key chain. I have no office key. I have no car key. I have no house key. We stand in limbo, waiting for all our earthly belongings to travel across the country to our new home and our new life. I am placeless, and at the mercy of others to let me through their locks. I just have my man, and my baby girl to love while we levitate in placelessness. Not the worst arrangement, don't you think?

Sabbath Sunday #11

With our apartment keys turned in and our belongings on the road to Maine, we are kicking back in Ontario with my in-laws, just waiting for the next phase of our move. We're going to church, a church BBQ, and I hope a nap can get squeezed in there somewhere so I can get properly revived for stage 2 - moving in!

How are you Sabbathing today, Lobsters?

Sabbath Sunday #10

Today I hope to go to church and have a quiet afternoon with my husband and daughter. Thank God for religiously imposed excuses not to pack!

home

photo credit: Craig Stewart

My father recently planted a huge orchard of olive trees at his lavender farm. He sent me this photo with the comment, "Olive trees thriving and offering hospitality to the locals..."

A) I think the photo is gorgeous. B) This image and thought is bringing me great comfort as I look towards being amongst new "locals" in one month. C) Hospitality is a beautiful gift and a skill I hope to cultivate more and more. 

The Movers I Won’t Be Hiring.

Lobsters, did you know that this summer anticipates the busiest volume of moves in the US in ten years? That means it is a mover’s market. That means that if you are hiring a moving company to take your belongings across country for the first time, you’re in trouble. Seeing as how that would be me, I’ve been doing my homework.

I learned it is important to have them do a visual, in-home assessment of all of your belongings to get a “not to exceed price” quote for your move. I learned you should get several quotes. I learned that I needed to make sure they are Better Business Bureau approved, and ideally approved by the American Moving and Storage Association so you avoid all the funny business of dudes with trucks just looking to make a buck. I did my homework. [Now you don’t have to. You’re welcome.]

Doing all this homework means I’ve interacted with a whole slew of interesting people. It has been a stressful headache, but some of these people [unintentionally] helped provide a little comic relief. Here are a few profiles of the movers I won’t be hiring. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Dude number one: “Anxiety Attack Al”

When I explained my complicated moving situation, I soon became concerned that this man was going to have a heart attack right there in my apartment. I was nervous about the move, but this guy was having an anxiety attack over how complicated it was. This did not calm me down at all. After assessing my belongings and pulling his hair out a bit, he comes up with an estimate. He looks at his screen, he looks at me, “oh no,” he looks at his screen, and back at me, “you’re going to flip, this is so much money” he tells me. I did not flip; I did not do a summersault either. Five days later when he finally called back to discuss part two of my move, he tells me he can not do it because I don’t meet his minimum pound requirement, so he wants to know what I want to do. This conversation also stresses him out. Three other movers seem to have found a way to help me do it, so I tell him we’ll just go in a different direction. He flips. And then he hangs up on me.

Dude number two: “Too cool for school Sean”

Dude number one had come in carrying a briefcase, a laptop, a portable printer, a clipboard, etc. etc. etc. Dude number two walks in with nothing but his smart phone. I don’t think that guy even carried a wallet. Sharply dressed, hair gelled, he was fifteen minutes late but ready to hit the ground running. He was suave. He was confident. And then he mistyped my email address. Smooth, Sean, smooth.

Dude number three: “Keepin’ it chill Charlie”

In all honesty, I really liked this guy. Fellow parent, quite friendly, totally recognized what a trial I had before me, he bent over backwards to try to make me feel relaxed and calm about it all. But perhaps he got a bit too relaxed when I told him of my concern about getting our mattress box springs out of the 3^rd floor apartment. Our stairwell is horribly narrow. No matter how we turned that box spring, it would not fit. Keepin’ it chill Charlie asks me, “how did you move it in?” I tell him, my brother-in-law overcame his fear of heights to play superman for the day. He climbed on top of our moving truck, slid it over our 2^nd floor neighbors’ balcony, through their apartment to the courtyard below our front door, up over that balcony, and into our apartment.  It was a feat! Charlie says, “cool, can we just do that again?” Nope. I was kinda lookin’ to hire movers that were better equipped than my in-laws. Thanks for playing.

I’m hoping the guys I am hiring work out and we make it across the country in one piece. I’m going to have to leave you on a cliff-hanger though, stay tuned to find out how it all pans out!

Any Lobsters out there have any moving advice for me?