In the calm of my kitchen I stand, carefully wrapping each dish in newspaper; some will be put in a box for storage and others will be put in a box to move on to the next kitchen. A kitchen where there is more chance that something will break, because in this kitchen there will be three other girls. Unaware that certain dishes have meaning that goes beyond the ceramic that holds my coffee. This pale blue, dimpled, mug from Starbucks; a gift from a friend who was once a Baristo. That's right, the title I changed for him from "Barista" to "Baristo" because it sounded more manly. Mass produced, but gifted with me in mind. I drink from this mug and remember sitting in my living room in Cardiff, Saturday morning with friends I love, mindlessly enjoying the morning with some coffee and PBS before heading off to Balboa Park. Or the amazing wine glasses given to me for my birthday from Jacob; do I pack them away or bring them to the next kitchen to be shared with others? They are just glasses after all, and more can be purchased if they break. What good is a glass in storage? These are the things I ponder while packing up my apartment to move to the next location. Begrudgingly I give up my amazing little den of solitude, knowing that I will be moving to one of the more bustling houses on camp. I am gratful to have a place to move to though, and a job in the fall that doesn't entail me taking out trash or commuting off the hill. Things have a way of working themselves out, and though I won't be in grad school I will be at Astrocamp. There is always more to learn, always more people to meet, and I guess in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter so much if a wine glass gets broken. Now I just need to get off the blog and pack those things up for the journey up the hill to my new location.