Gathering no moss

A friend asked me the other day if I was nervous or stressed about moving to Greece for three months. While there are a few things that make me nervous (a long flight with a baby, for example) I'm mostly just excited. Not even my growing to-do-before-we-leave list has me wigging out. Yes, there is a lot to get done, yeah it's becoming ever more apparent that I will travel with an inordinate number of suitcases, but I still feel like this is nothing I can't handle.
Upon reflection, I suppose this has been a pattern of my adult life. Since my freshman year of college (nearly 8 years ago, yikes!) I have not lived in the same place for more than a year at a time. In college, I was always returning to Arizona in the summer and switching apartments every year. After college I lived in AZ for four months, then moved to Washington, DC. I lived in DC for two years, but in three different locations. After Landon and I got married we moved to Salt Lake City for one year and then to Denver, where we currently reside. The point I'm trying to make is that in the last eight years I have moved no fewer than 14 times.
This could be a testament to my lack of focus, or perhaps just a symptom of the fact that I get bored very easily. But I prefer to frame my wanderlust as a drive for adventure, or a hunger for a challenge, or an example of my adaptability. Frame it how you will, apparently this rolling stone isn't done tumbling yet. Although, it's nice that Landon and Griffin have joined the ride now.