Way back last October, I stumbled across a program at a Colorado school for Occupational Therapy. Random, right? For years, I have carefully manipulated the Googles to send me targeted ads for abandoned castles infested with vampires. At least, I think it was for castles. Everything is written in Romanian. Unfortunately, this attempt to thwart Big Brother from knowing my true customer buyer’s profile has worked against me, because now I am very interested in purchasing abandoned Romanian castles and their undead residents.

But now instead of getting tailored ads for silver stabby sticks, I was getting invites to apply for graduate programs in Occupational Therapy, which is Taylor’s dream career. Unless Taylor has been clicking on salacious things like a damnably expensive master’s degree, it’s safe to assume that the lizard people in charge have been eavesdropping on our nightly pillow talk.

Taylor had actually been accepted into an OT program several years ago, but we couldn’t make the expensive price tag work. Ultimately, Taylor was forced to turn down OT school and instead accepted an offer as a math teacher. As the years passed, the dream of OT school felt farther away, but lately he’s been daydreaming aloud about the ”what if” of pursuing this dream. This is probably where the lizard people overheard pillow talk. Hashtag bezo babes.

Taylor doesn’t like abrupt change. He needs time to prepare. I had to warn him 7 years in advance that I was probably going to dye my hair blonde someday. If he were an ER doctor, all of his patients would die because he was still deciding formulating a polite, yet clever, text to the waiting operating surgeon. I, personally, have ceased to live on several occasions waiting for him to decide if he was going add horchata with his burrito or not.

The point is: my man needs time to think. And giving him a mere baker’s novenary of days to complete interview ready materials, including resumes, essays, updated observational hours, and collaborating multiple reference letters with other people was enough to bust anyone’s brains.

Plus, life was already pretty full. I was already in my senior year of college. Taylor taught junior high full time away in a neighboring county. In fact, Taylor was just on the cusp of obtaining his secondary teaching license and was finally carving out the “groove” of his teaching style and classroom management.

Was it worth it?

Yeah, we thought so.

Taylor worked hard. Letters of recommendations were mailed. Essays carefully penned and observation hours updated. All the stress of gathering the materials in time made pressing that “submit” button feel rather un-ceremonial, but it was done! Then we were forced to play the waiting game for the next few months.

Our families hoped and prayed for us. Colorado was a perfect choice. Good community and schools for grad students and their families, plus the drive back to Utah was short enough we could return for the holidays. We felt so peaceful about the entire thing. We knew that peacefulness didn’t mean he was guaranteed a spot in the program, but it did mean we were on the right path. And, oh boy, we hoped that “right path” meant Colorado.

Well, short story long, you read this blog post title. Nope, you didn’t read it wrong. We’re not moving to Colorado. Because he wasn’t accepted into the program.

GAH.

That feeling of peace still clung to us. Though we were REALLY disappointed that Colorado didn’t work out, it still felt right to keep applying.

While we waited for Colorado’s decision, Taylor sent in applications to other states. California, Florida, and Arkansas among them. The suspense just about killed me. At one point I told Taylor that I didn’t care WHERE it was, I just needed to KNOW. Not knowing where your entire family is going to live for the next 3 years is so stressful.

Welp, I dished those vulgar words and then was forced to eat them, because he got into the ONE location I hoped he wouldn’t: Austin, Texas! I was unhappy with the idea of moving so far from family and friends and into a place that literally gives home to some of my worst fears, namely alligators and spicy food. And as a fun aside: not only was the tuition still just as expensive as last time, but now the cost of homes had exploded so obscenely that the housing market as a whole is now being tried for war crimes.

But we came together and prayed and prayed. Individually and together, we both felt really peaceful about it. It was going to be hard, but it was also going to be okay. God knew about the bugs and the giant reptiles running the national banks. And God said we were going to be ok if we decided to go.

We’re headed out later this summer into our new home. There’s so much we want to do before we go, namely spend quality time with every single person that we’ve ever met in Utah. But we also want to get the kids settled into a new home with some new friends before the new school year starts. (First year of Kinder for Archer and first year of PreK for Sander… lots of new coming up in general, but now in a completely new territory!) It’s a delicate balancing act, but I’m sure we’ll figure out a good send off with those we love here.

Through the twists and turns of Taylor’s journey into occupational school, I’m really excited to see what’s in store for him at this school. I hope he thrives in class and builds a great network and ultimately feel in his element as an occupational therapist. So so excited for him! And so excited for Austin, because it turns out Austin is kind of a cool place to live why didn’t any of you tell me???

Turning our gaze to the Lone Star state!