We Did the Damn Thing: Goodbye Arizona, Hello Adventure

September 16th, 2026

We did it, little monsters.

We actually✨ DID THE DAMN THING. ✨

I have turned twenty-seven.

I have four stitches in my thumb.

I still need to get those removed, which is absolutely happening on the appropriate medical timeline even though my schedule currently looks like someone threw spaghetti at a calendar.

And, most importantly:

We have officially left Arizona.

After five years, approximately seventeen thousand cardboard boxes, one traitorous cloud-shaped box cutter, several emotional breakdowns, and more military-move nonsense than any one goblin should reasonably be expected to endure…

We are on the road.

Which feels absolutely fucking bizarre.

The Hardest “See You Later”

Before we talk about the tiny stuffed-animal knights and roadside jerky, I have to get the sad part out first.

I’m leaving behind one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And Scout’s honor? I am going to fucking sob about not being able to see her and the kids for weeks.

Probably months.

Potentially at random while holding a snack in a Walmart.

She is one of the very, very few people who has ever made me comfortable enough to just…exist around her. Not perform. Not try to figure out what I’m supposed to say.

Not worry that I’m being too loud, too quiet, too weird, too much. I could just show up as my outrageous little goblin self and she’d be like, “Yeah, that tracks.”

We could go months without seeing each other and then sit down and talk for literally ten hours straight like we had simply paused the conversation yesterday.

I love her very much. I hope we see each other again soon.

And genuinely?

She is the one thing about Arizona I know I am going to miss with my whole heart.

Today Was…A Lot

“Emotional” is probably the word.

“Overwhelming” is also competing for first place.

I woke up at 5 a.m. to finish cleaning the house for inspection. Then I cried because I was overwhelmed.

Then I realized I had missed putting a truly impressive number of things into the U-Boxes.

Then I panicked.

Then I had to throw away a bunch of things I absolutely would have kept if we had more space.

And before anybody says anything: I am not a hoarder.

I simply believe containers are a precious natural resource.

Do I need seventeen bins of varying and highly specific dimensions?

That is between me, God, and the organizational aisle at Target.

Anyway.

I panicked some more.

Eventually, somehow, the house was finished.

We said our see-you-laters.

I hugged my friend.

I attempted not to dissolve into a puddle directly on the pavement.

And then…

We drove away.

The Goblin Caravan Has Departed

I am still anxious. Because of course I am.

But underneath all of that?

I’m excited.

A new city. A new home. A new chance to figure out what comes next.

Colorado Springs is waiting for us.

And apparently I’ve decided the proper way to document this pilgrimage is through a small cast of stuffed animals. Obviously.

Allow me to introduce our traveling party:

Lord Sasha, the possum, who is—in fact—a lady despite the title.

Her knight, Skylark, the adventuring husky my little sister gave me.

And Dame Beatrice Buttons, a tiny crocheted creature I somehow made with my own two hands and could not recreate now if my life depended on it.

Together they are serving as our highly qualified road-trip correspondents. This decision makes perfect sense, and I will not be taking questions at this time.

Things the Traveling Party Saw Today

First, we passed the traffic light leaving base for the last time.

The last time at this red light, Jerome will never forget uwu

It’s such a stupidly ordinary thing. A traffic light. I’ve seen it countless times. But seeing it, knowing that it was the last time?

Yeah.

Rude.

Then we passed the Love’s we always stopped at whenever we drove toward Tucson.

Another completely ordinary little landmark that suddenly felt weirdly significant because apparently my emotions have decided every gas station is now symbolic.

Fantastic.

Then—

ROCKS.

Really cool rocks.

Which obviously required an immediate detour.

I made my husband stop at the Texas Canyon rest area because the scenery looked like some giant dropped their collection of boulders in the desert and wandered away.

Worth it.

Absolutely worth it.

“Really Good Jerky”

Somewhere along the way, we started seeing signs advertising—

REALLY GOOD JERKY.

For reasons I cannot explain, this wording absolutely destroyed me.

Not premium jerky.

Not world famous jerky.

Not award-winning jerky.

Just:

Really good.

The confidence.

The restraint.

The honesty.

Naturally, we had to investigate.

And yes.

We stopped for the jerky.

Lark and Sasha approved.

Insert important jerky inspection photograph.

I am pleased to report that roadside advertising remains undefeated.

Meanwhile, Inside the Cat Chariot…

The kitty overlords are doing…

Well…Mostly.

At one rest area, we spent probably an hour trying to figure out why Stubby was absolutely losing her mind.

Did she need the litter box?

No.

Food?

Apparently not.

Water?

Nope.

Was something wrong?

Also no.

Do you know what she wanted?

Attention and a squeezable cat treat.

That was the emergency.

She required emotional support and meat paste.

Honestly?

Relatable.

Insert picture of Stubby staring judgmentally through the carrier.

After the appropriate tribute was provided, peace returned to the kingdom.

For now.

NEW MEXICO, BABY

Eventually—

✨ WE MADE IT TO NEW MEXICO. ✨

Insert obligatory state-line picture.

One state down.

One goblin caravan successfully transported.

Three cats still accounted for.

No additional stitches acquired.

I would call that a win.

The First Inn of the Journey

And finally, after what felt like approximately seventeen years—

the hotel.

We got dinner from Marie’s Italian Kitchen in Deming (linking how we ordered).

We showered.

We got the animals settled.

And now I’m typing this at 10:36 p.m. because I wanted to get all of these thoughts out while they were still rattling around inside my skull.

I’ll probably actually post this tomorrow, once I have time to draw something cute to go with it.

But that?

That is a Tomorrow Gremlin Problem™.

Tonight Gremlin has exactly three responsibilities:

Take medications.

Get into bed.

REST.

Actual rest.

Not “sit down for seventeen minutes while thinking about everything I still need to do.”

Not “lie in bed answering messages.”

Not “maybe I can just organize one tiny thing first.”

REST.

I have not properly rested in probably a week, and considering my heart regularly likes to host unauthorized dubstep concerts inside my chest, I think we have reached the point where my body deserves to file a formal complaint.

So I’m going to close my eyes in this silly little roadside inn and, hopefully, wake up tomorrow ready for our next destination:

Albuquerque.

Maybe I’ll find something interesting to eat there. 👀

Maybe I’ll even share it with you.

Though I feel I should warn you now:

I am, fundamentally, a comfort-food creature.

When I’m stressed, I do not want culinary danger.

I want reliability.

I want peace.

I want chicken tendies and some form of potato.

And there is nothing wrong with that. 😖😡

Anyone who disagrees has clearly never bitten into a seemingly innocent pasta dish only to encounter a texture so horrifying that the entire meal is immediately ruined.

Or worse—

🔪 SURPRISE MUSHROOM. 🔪

Absolutely not.

Keep your stealth fungi away from me.

So we’ll see what Tomorrow Gremlin decides.

For now, little monsters:

Take your meds. Drink a few sips of water. Unclench your jaw.

Get some sleep if you need it.

The adventure can wait until morning.

Stay safe, don’t die, and always inspect your pasta for hidden mushrooms.

Xoxo 💖💖💖
—Babsie