But apparently, my Christmas cactus is totally confused about the weather after the move from Georgia...because, lo and behold, it produced a beautiful, lone bloom this week.
Here's my SOOC:
Showing posts with label relocating to the Arctic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relocating to the Arctic. Show all posts
Monday, March 21, 2011
Good to Wow: Flower Edition, SOOC
Flowers. In March in Connecticut? I thought I was going to have to a) feel really stupid taking my camera into the grocery store, b) convince my husband to buy me some flowers (not to make it sound like he needs convincing; I always tell him NOT to buy me flowers because I hate spending money on them), or c) photograph a very tired plastic (maybe silk?) sunflower my youngest daughter has been playing with for a few months.
But apparently, my Christmas cactus is totally confused about the weather after the move from Georgia...because, lo and behold, it produced a beautiful, lone bloom this week.
Here's my SOOC:
But apparently, my Christmas cactus is totally confused about the weather after the move from Georgia...because, lo and behold, it produced a beautiful, lone bloom this week.
Here's my SOOC:
Friday, January 7, 2011
Quick Takes: Boring Week Edition
I am enduring my second snowstorm since moving to the Arctic. Thankfully, this storm, unlike the blizzard of a couple weeks ago, is gently depositing the white stuff in fluffy piles rather than ramming it into the ground.
Quite honestly, I am a little bit disappointed in these Northerners. Based on how much we Southerners are mocked during any "snowstorm", I was under the impression that life carried on as normal up here even if Mother Nature dumped 12 feet of snow on any given city. But no. With just rumors of snow, all of our day's activities were promptly canceled: a much anticipated field trip to the science museum and basketball practices. Plus, I heard someone say schools were closed. The snow did not begin to fall until late afternoon. Northerners are overreactors just like Southerners.
I was at Bed, Bath, and Beyond the other day and discovered they have added an entire section for toiletries. I find that odd. "Honey, will you watch the kids while I drop by Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a box of tampons?" I wonder if I can use the 20% off coupon they send me regularly on a tube of toothpaste.
We started back to homeschool on Monday. It was not a good week. My enthusiasm is waning. Oh, who am I kidding? My enthusiasm got up and raced out the door about 2 months ago.
My husband brought me home something that may renew my enthusiasm. It's a hand-me-down from his company, but second hand or not, I'm tickled pink. It's a little large. Way too large for our dining room. But I don't care because I have a whiteboard!
Oh, and it's still in the car. Did I mention it's oversized? It won't come in through the garage, and we have about 3 inches of snow and more steadily falling on the walkway.
I may have to teach from the car on Monday.
The whiteboard was on my letter to Santa. I acquired the whiteboard because of this conversation:
Mark's colleague: What are you giving Kathleen for Christmas?
Mark: She wants a whiteboard.
Mark's colleague: There's an extra one. Why don't you gift that to her?
Mark's colleagues must think I'm a barrel of laughs.
My one goal this week was to get the laundry completely completed in one day (yeah, I aim high). I failed. Miserably.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
10 Confessions of a Blizzard Survivor
So maybe you're wondering how we weathered the blizzard, and here I am prattling on and on about inane topics like pine needles. In short, we survived. But I do have a few confessions to make:
Confession #1
This blizzard was my fault. I have been watching the forecast for weeks hoping against hope there would be snow during my parents' visit. I really, really wanted them to see it. Obviously, I got my wish, but all the white stuff here made us housebound, which meant that, although my folks got to see the snow, they didn't get to see anything else of New England. We had a good Christmas week anyway. And turns out they could have had a white Christmas if they had stayed at home.
Confession #2
Credit should be given to me and my family for the first white Christmas in Georgia in over a century. I know this because good things always happen when we leave a place. I mean, look at all of the shopping centers that sprang up all over the little town of Winder when we left 7 years ago. Not little town anymore, but more like big metropolis.
To all of my Georgia friends - you are welcome.
Confession #3
I already knew what my first real snow would be like. I had visions of me standing by the window, hot beverage in hand, watching big, fluffy snowflakes fall serenely from the heavens to alight gently on the delicate branches of the backyard trees. Instead those soft, gentle snowflakes were more like white streaks. And there was no serenity about it; the white streaks were hurled violently to the ground by furious wind.
Confession #4
The wind caused me great angst. It howled, it groaned. It threatened to snap the power lines; it threatened to pick up the house and dump it in the Land of Oz. It went on and on for a day and a night and a day. Even through double-paned windows, it snuck in, causing the curtains to flutter a bit. Moreover, because of the wind, all of the trees and many a hill were left naked. No soft, fluffy snow outlining each branch and creating a postcard perfect winter picture.
Confession #5
As this blizzard made its way up the east coast, I read a few blogs that depicted happy families cozying up for the blustery day, enjoying the snowbound time together. There were descriptions of games and fireplaces and hot cider and happy smiles. We didn't do anything. I am a preparer. I should have been more prepared. I should have had ready a List of Things to Do When We are Snowbound.
Confession #6
Remember that snow blower our landlord left us that my handy dandy husband was sure to fix? Neither he nor our neighbor could get it to work. I'd probably feel better saying that this meant Mark and I got out and shoveled the driveway and all of the sidewalks ourselves, but no. We hired someone to do it for us. Which will work out just fine for me when TravelDaddy is gone thankyouverymuch. Plus, I have my little men to help out if need be.
Confession #7
As shocking as it was to my Facebook friends who saw my pictures of the blizzard, I played outside with the kids. I even enjoyed it. I can do stuff, you know.
Confession #8
When I saw the elderly neighbor shoveling his driveway, I convinced the kids to be good neighbors and help him.
I watched them be good neighbors from the window. I felt bad because it took them about an hour. But I was proud. So I made them hot chocolate with lots and lots of marshmallows.
Confession #9
I'm a little bitterrified nervous about driving in this stuff. My husband drove us to the airport this morning to drop off my parents. It seemed a little bit intimidating. My dear friend Tisha sent me a ha-ha-very-funny gift a few weeks ago. Actually, not so much ha-ha-very-funny but ha-ha-if-only-it-weren't-so-true. I plan to slap it on my car as soon as I decide to get behind the wheel and slide down the hill to the store venture out into the white wonderland.
I continue to check weather.comobsessively for the next storm on the horizon. It will be lovely with big, giant, fluffy snowflakes that float gently to the ground. And even with the snow on the ground, it will be 80 degrees outside. Oh wait, that is my vision of Heaven.
Confession #1
This blizzard was my fault. I have been watching the forecast for weeks hoping against hope there would be snow during my parents' visit. I really, really wanted them to see it. Obviously, I got my wish, but all the white stuff here made us housebound, which meant that, although my folks got to see the snow, they didn't get to see anything else of New England. We had a good Christmas week anyway. And turns out they could have had a white Christmas if they had stayed at home.
Confession #2
Credit should be given to me and my family for the first white Christmas in Georgia in over a century. I know this because good things always happen when we leave a place. I mean, look at all of the shopping centers that sprang up all over the little town of Winder when we left 7 years ago. Not little town anymore, but more like big metropolis.
To all of my Georgia friends - you are welcome.
Confession #3
I already knew what my first real snow would be like. I had visions of me standing by the window, hot beverage in hand, watching big, fluffy snowflakes fall serenely from the heavens to alight gently on the delicate branches of the backyard trees. Instead those soft, gentle snowflakes were more like white streaks. And there was no serenity about it; the white streaks were hurled violently to the ground by furious wind.
Confession #4
The wind caused me great angst. It howled, it groaned. It threatened to snap the power lines; it threatened to pick up the house and dump it in the Land of Oz. It went on and on for a day and a night and a day. Even through double-paned windows, it snuck in, causing the curtains to flutter a bit. Moreover, because of the wind, all of the trees and many a hill were left naked. No soft, fluffy snow outlining each branch and creating a postcard perfect winter picture.
Confession #5
As this blizzard made its way up the east coast, I read a few blogs that depicted happy families cozying up for the blustery day, enjoying the snowbound time together. There were descriptions of games and fireplaces and hot cider and happy smiles. We didn't do anything. I am a preparer. I should have been more prepared. I should have had ready a List of Things to Do When We are Snowbound.
Confession #6
Remember that snow blower our landlord left us that my handy dandy husband was sure to fix? Neither he nor our neighbor could get it to work. I'd probably feel better saying that this meant Mark and I got out and shoveled the driveway and all of the sidewalks ourselves, but no. We hired someone to do it for us. Which will work out just fine for me when TravelDaddy is gone thankyouverymuch. Plus, I have my little men to help out if need be.
Confession #7
As shocking as it was to my Facebook friends who saw my pictures of the blizzard, I played outside with the kids. I even enjoyed it. I can do stuff, you know.
Confession #8
When I saw the elderly neighbor shoveling his driveway, I convinced the kids to be good neighbors and help him.
I watched them be good neighbors from the window. I felt bad because it took them about an hour. But I was proud. So I made them hot chocolate with lots and lots of marshmallows.
Confession #9
I'm a little bit
I continue to check weather.com
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Preparing
I've always kind of assumed the term blizzard to be an exaggeration, hyperbole. Sort of like when someone says, "It's raining cats and dogs" or "It's hot as you-know-what". But, no, there it is on the forecast for today: Blizzard.
I have been watching the forecast for weeks now with much anticipation, waiting for my first "real" snow. A blizzard was not what I had in mind, however, for my initiation into the Arctic.
In true Southern fashion, we are preparing with a mindset that is just about right at Panic. We got ready for church but then decided to opt out this week so Mark could hit some of the stores for things we might need to keep alive for the next couple of days. Of course, we don't need food since this is the day after our Christmas feast, but we do need gas for a snowblower our landlord left for us to use. Of course, we do not know how to use it, but I'm sure my handy dandy husband will figure it out. We also need firewood in the event the worst occurs.
The Worst, a power outage, was certainly not in my picture of how the first real storm would play out. The way I imagined it, I would be inside a warm house, a cup of hot tea in hand, watching from the window as the children merrily played out in the soft, gentle snow. I hadn't really thought about the possibility of sitting in a dark, freezing cold house. Because this is the North, right? They know how to deal with this stuff without all of the problems, right? Maybe not, at least according to the local news.
And did I mention my parents are here visiting from Georgia? I have to keep them warm too.
My children do not share my anxieties over this pending white doom. When I told them a blizzard was forecasted for the day, they cheered. I think they have been a little misguided too, however: Somehow I think that their ideas for the first "real" snow may not have included hurricane force winds accompanying the flakes.
So if you don't hear from me, I'm either huddled around a fire trying to stay warm. Or I'm dead. If we do survive our first blizzard, I'm sure there will be lots of pictures to follow of the kids playing in our expected 10-20" of snow. After the wind has died down, of course.
I have been watching the forecast for weeks now with much anticipation, waiting for my first "real" snow. A blizzard was not what I had in mind, however, for my initiation into the Arctic.
In true Southern fashion, we are preparing with a mindset that is just about right at Panic. We got ready for church but then decided to opt out this week so Mark could hit some of the stores for things we might need to keep alive for the next couple of days. Of course, we don't need food since this is the day after our Christmas feast, but we do need gas for a snowblower our landlord left for us to use. Of course, we do not know how to use it, but I'm sure my handy dandy husband will figure it out. We also need firewood in the event the worst occurs.
The Worst, a power outage, was certainly not in my picture of how the first real storm would play out. The way I imagined it, I would be inside a warm house, a cup of hot tea in hand, watching from the window as the children merrily played out in the soft, gentle snow. I hadn't really thought about the possibility of sitting in a dark, freezing cold house. Because this is the North, right? They know how to deal with this stuff without all of the problems, right? Maybe not, at least according to the local news.
And did I mention my parents are here visiting from Georgia? I have to keep them warm too.
My children do not share my anxieties over this pending white doom. When I told them a blizzard was forecasted for the day, they cheered. I think they have been a little misguided too, however: Somehow I think that their ideas for the first "real" snow may not have included hurricane force winds accompanying the flakes.
So if you don't hear from me, I'm either huddled around a fire trying to stay warm. Or I'm dead. If we do survive our first blizzard, I'm sure there will be lots of pictures to follow of the kids playing in our expected 10-20" of snow. After the wind has died down, of course.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A Frozen World
After lunch today, I ordered my regular Iced Venti Green Shaken Tea Sweetened at the nearest Starbucks. I sipped it down to the halfway mark by the time we got home where I left the kids and my husband and went out to do a little secret shopping. I sat in my car in the Target parking lot for a few minutes enjoying the beauty of watching snow flurries fall even as the sunshine shone brightly on the lot.
I was in Target for a good hour, enjoying a peaceful shopping trip that did NOT involve any breaking up of quarrels, any whining, any trips to the little girls' room to potty a princess who can't seem to catch on to the concept of emptying the bladder at HOME instead of in the nasty public bathroom, no standing around waiting for little people to look longingly at the newest Lego set/video game/Barbie Doll/Nerf gun for the thousandth time. Nope, just me, wandering the aisles looking at whatever I wanted to look at, lingering in the aisles that interested me.
So all this time in Target my Iced Venti Green Shaken Tea Sweetened was sitting out in the car. When I got back to the car, there it was, same as I left it, half of my tea still waiting for me, not a cube of ice melted. And why would it be melted when the weather outside is 27 degrees? In the sun.
I'm really not complaining. Not yet anyway. In fact, I check the 10-day forecast at leasttwo hundred times twice a day looking for that first predicted snowfall. It seems all of my Facebook friends across the country are enjoying some of the white stuff but us. And I was under the impression I had moved to the Arctic. Or, at the least, not-so-far-from-Canada.
The snow has been there in the forecast. In fact, when I checked last Monday, it was on the docket for today. But the very next day, the little snow picture was replaced with sunshine. At least there were some snow flurries thrown in with the sunshine. Now the forecast has snow flurries forecast for the next few days and snow on the plan for next Sunday. I know these meteorologists don't know what they're talking about half the time, so I won't hold my breath, but I really would like to see some of the snow I was promised when I moved to the Arctic.
Until the snow comes, I will just enjoy watching the world freeze over. I know on the way home from Target today the line of cars behind me probably got a little perturbed by my slowing down every time I saw a frozen puddle. I'm not sure what is wrong with these northerners. Does it not fascinate anyone else to see water that is not in the freezer--water that is outside--freezing? You can bet that to this African/Southern Californian/Georgian girl, that is fascinating indeed.
I know my kids are also quite taken with it because they spent hours the other day leaning over the edge of the above ground pool hauling out pieces of ice that have begun to form on the water that has collected in the cover. And today? It was reported that while I was enjoying my peaceful time at Target, they were out on the side of the street chopping up the frozen puddles with a mallet.
Don't ever think that we southerners can't have a good ol' time up here in the Arctic!
I was in Target for a good hour, enjoying a peaceful shopping trip that did NOT involve any breaking up of quarrels, any whining, any trips to the little girls' room to potty a princess who can't seem to catch on to the concept of emptying the bladder at HOME instead of in the nasty public bathroom, no standing around waiting for little people to look longingly at the newest Lego set/video game/Barbie Doll/Nerf gun for the thousandth time. Nope, just me, wandering the aisles looking at whatever I wanted to look at, lingering in the aisles that interested me.
So all this time in Target my Iced Venti Green Shaken Tea Sweetened was sitting out in the car. When I got back to the car, there it was, same as I left it, half of my tea still waiting for me, not a cube of ice melted. And why would it be melted when the weather outside is 27 degrees? In the sun.
I'm really not complaining. Not yet anyway. In fact, I check the 10-day forecast at least
The snow has been there in the forecast. In fact, when I checked last Monday, it was on the docket for today. But the very next day, the little snow picture was replaced with sunshine. At least there were some snow flurries thrown in with the sunshine. Now the forecast has snow flurries forecast for the next few days and snow on the plan for next Sunday. I know these meteorologists don't know what they're talking about half the time, so I won't hold my breath, but I really would like to see some of the snow I was promised when I moved to the Arctic.
Until the snow comes, I will just enjoy watching the world freeze over. I know on the way home from Target today the line of cars behind me probably got a little perturbed by my slowing down every time I saw a frozen puddle. I'm not sure what is wrong with these northerners. Does it not fascinate anyone else to see water that is not in the freezer--water that is outside--freezing? You can bet that to this African/Southern Californian/Georgian girl, that is fascinating indeed.
I know my kids are also quite taken with it because they spent hours the other day leaning over the edge of the above ground pool hauling out pieces of ice that have begun to form on the water that has collected in the cover. And today? It was reported that while I was enjoying my peaceful time at Target, they were out on the side of the street chopping up the frozen puddles with a mallet.
Don't ever think that we southerners can't have a good ol' time up here in the Arctic!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Ramblings & Routine
Typically when I am absent for any length of time it is because I am too harried to find time to write. This time, however, it is simply because life has taken on Routine, and there just hasn't been all that much to report.
We've been here 2 months, and the time has flown, yet it feels like we've been here so much longer. Which I guess is good, although there is still a large part of me that feels like a tourist. But there are now more places than I can count on my two hands that I can make it to without the GPS, so I know I'm making progress.
And we've gotten involved in a lot of things. In fact, I've joined too many groups and am now working to pare down and pick and choose those activities that are and will continue to be most meaningful for our family. My choices have revolved mostly around our church. We now attend a Community--or Sunday School class/Life Group/Small Group...whatever you want to call it. We at least know a few faces by name in the group now, and some of the ladies in that group overlap with the homeschool co-op of which we are a part as well. It's a pretty good group of women and children, and the co-op, though brand new, is off to a great start.
We also attend the mid-week activities. While the kids are in their kids' club, I am in a class enjoying socialization with adults (what a concept!). I thoroughly enjoy this night because TravelDaddy has been gone a lot, so these times with grown-ups are treasured moments indeed.
So...we are keeping busy. There are moments of loneliness where I try to imagine what certain dear friends or family members are up to down South. I miss everyone, but Facebook sure helps to make the world smaller. And we're making new friends here. It's a joy to see the kids form new relationships.
We just back from Alex's Book Club, and I had a great time observing the other 3 who hung out with me in the library with some other moms and kids. Whoever decided homeschoolers are unsocialized needs to spend an hour like I did. We took a few games along, and my two boys quickly engaged a couple of other boys and had them join in the game. And Audrey approached another group of girls and joined their game. Alex of course makes friends no matter where she goes, so I never need to worry about her. But it makes a mama proud to see her children coming out of their shell and reaching out to others.
I have no transition here, but since I'm just rambling anyway, I have to say I absolutely can not believe next week is Thanksgiving. AND I can't believe Christmas is right around the corner. I generally have all sorts of special plans brewing right now, and I have not a one. I need to get to work...
We've been here 2 months, and the time has flown, yet it feels like we've been here so much longer. Which I guess is good, although there is still a large part of me that feels like a tourist. But there are now more places than I can count on my two hands that I can make it to without the GPS, so I know I'm making progress.
And we've gotten involved in a lot of things. In fact, I've joined too many groups and am now working to pare down and pick and choose those activities that are and will continue to be most meaningful for our family. My choices have revolved mostly around our church. We now attend a Community--or Sunday School class/Life Group/Small Group...whatever you want to call it. We at least know a few faces by name in the group now, and some of the ladies in that group overlap with the homeschool co-op of which we are a part as well. It's a pretty good group of women and children, and the co-op, though brand new, is off to a great start.
We also attend the mid-week activities. While the kids are in their kids' club, I am in a class enjoying socialization with adults (what a concept!). I thoroughly enjoy this night because TravelDaddy has been gone a lot, so these times with grown-ups are treasured moments indeed.
So...we are keeping busy. There are moments of loneliness where I try to imagine what certain dear friends or family members are up to down South. I miss everyone, but Facebook sure helps to make the world smaller. And we're making new friends here. It's a joy to see the kids form new relationships.
We just back from Alex's Book Club, and I had a great time observing the other 3 who hung out with me in the library with some other moms and kids. Whoever decided homeschoolers are unsocialized needs to spend an hour like I did. We took a few games along, and my two boys quickly engaged a couple of other boys and had them join in the game. And Audrey approached another group of girls and joined their game. Alex of course makes friends no matter where she goes, so I never need to worry about her. But it makes a mama proud to see her children coming out of their shell and reaching out to others.
I have no transition here, but since I'm just rambling anyway, I have to say I absolutely can not believe next week is Thanksgiving. AND I can't believe Christmas is right around the corner. I generally have all sorts of special plans brewing right now, and I have not a one. I need to get to work...
Friday, October 29, 2010
BFF with the DMV
You know you've been to the DMV one too many times when you tell the children to "go to their normal seats", and they know exactly what to do...when, if the workers were wearing name tags, you could spot 5 you know by name. Yesterday we made our third trip to the DMV. As I mentioned before, my first trip was useless. But I never told the whole story about my second trip wherein I procured my Connecticut driver's license.
The process to get my license was as follows: Wait in one line to get a number; once the number is called, wait in a second line to explain the purpose of the visit and to fill out paperwork; the third line is for an eye test; the fourth line is for the picture and payment; and the last line is to receive the license.
Line #1 and Line #2 were uneventful, but I was nervous by the time I plopped down in my seat to wait for Line #3. Part of this anxiety stemmed from the fact that I had just heard the commander of Line #3 bawl out a customer with an, "I can't help you. Have a nice day", which sounded a whole lot more like, "I CAN'T help you HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!" Moreover, I was still reeling from the news I had received in Line #2.
The majority of my time in Line #2 was spent filling out a name change form. I said to the gentleman in charge of Line #2, "You know, I have been Mrs. P for 15 years. Are you SURE you need me to fill out this Name Change Form?" He was sure. So, while I was changing my name in what seemed like a twilight zone moment, I took the opportunity to ask some questions. I explained that I was anxious to get my CT license. I needed the license to secure car insurance. And we needed the car insurance in order to get license plates. I wondered about the cost involved in registering our cars with the state. He listed the fees: $125 per car just to register, PLUS a 6% sales tax on the value of each car. My mad math skills kicked in as I was half listening. "So that's going to be between $2500 and $3000?" I exclaimed. He nodded. "But we already paid sales tax on the cars in Georgia," I argued.
"But you never paid them in the state of Connecticut," he responded then added, "Welcome to Connecticut!"
And so as I approached the lovely man who commanded Line #3, I was pondering the fact that if "Santa" must spend his (or her) life savings just to drive his (or her) sleigh in the state of CT, the children may receive nothing but coal in their stockings this year.
"Read the numbers from left to right," the Commander barked. I proceeded to read the numbers from right to left because, in my mind, he must have been asking me to follow specific, rather out of the ordinary instructions. After all, English is still this country's language, and English is read left to right. So if he had wanted me to read it left to right, he would have simply instructed me to "read the numbers". So when I received specific directionals, I assumed I was to do something different from the norm.
He glared at me. "I said read it from left to right."
"Oh." I rattled off the numbers. "I do know my left from my right," I added and flashed him a wry smile. He wasn't amused.
Next I was to look at a line of signs and identify the one that appeared the closest. I almost giggled when I wondered to myself how the Commander would react if I answered, "The little triangle one", but then I thought that perhaps not being able to identify a yield sign might be reason enough to prevent one from obtaining a driver's license in the state of Connecticut, so I refrained.
Needless to say, by the time I reached Line #4, I was not smiling so my picture looks more like a mug shot than a photo. I suppose that's more appropriate anyway. When you get stopped, I know from experience you aren't really in the mood to flash the officer a giant, friendly smile. So really the mug shot on a driver's license is a much more effective tool to use when trying to prove identity.
So I had my mug shot taken in Line #4. Line #5 didn't take long at all, and we were on our way home to await Trip #3 to the DMV.
Between Trip #2 and #3 my husband did the dirty work of finding local car insurance for both cars. Remember that ticket we got on our way to our not Disney Disney vacation back in 2009? That ticket never increased our rates with the friendly people at the Georgia Farm Bureau, but apparently when you live in the Insurance Capital of the World, they get you for everything. The ticket did indeed make a difference, but what can you do?
Trip #3 to the DMV began with the Grand Search for a Service Station That Will Check Emissions. We finally found one and headed over with both cars. At the DMV, only 2 lines were required for this task. Mark took care of his car, and I took care of mine. It was quite painless actually, and we left with new tags in our hands, a fact that doesn't make me all that happy: I had campaigned for keeping our Georgia tags through winter with the hopes that other drivers would throw me a little sympathy on the snowy roads.
As we left, I bid the DMV good-bye with an, "I hope I don't have to see you again until I have to bring my 16-year-old daughter here for her driving test." But then I retracted that farewell because, well, I have asked my daughter repeatedly to stop growing up, and I hope this year she'll actually listen to me. If she does, that will mean she'll stay at 10, and that will be fine with me.
Oh, and that astronomical tax fee the guy in charge of Line #2 on Trip #2? Well, I was informed by the kind man on Trip #3 that since we already paid sales tax on our cars in Georgia, there is no reason for us to pay them again in Connecticut. Hmmm...who'dathunk it? Now I'm just waiting for that phone call: "Uh, Ma'am, we're going to need you to come back in. Dude at Line #2 on your second trip to the DMV had you fill out a Name Change Form. That was the wrong form. Didn't you think it was strange he asked you to fill that out when you have been Mrs. P for over 15 years?"
The process to get my license was as follows: Wait in one line to get a number; once the number is called, wait in a second line to explain the purpose of the visit and to fill out paperwork; the third line is for an eye test; the fourth line is for the picture and payment; and the last line is to receive the license.
Line #1 and Line #2 were uneventful, but I was nervous by the time I plopped down in my seat to wait for Line #3. Part of this anxiety stemmed from the fact that I had just heard the commander of Line #3 bawl out a customer with an, "I can't help you. Have a nice day", which sounded a whole lot more like, "I CAN'T help you HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!" Moreover, I was still reeling from the news I had received in Line #2.
The majority of my time in Line #2 was spent filling out a name change form. I said to the gentleman in charge of Line #2, "You know, I have been Mrs. P for 15 years. Are you SURE you need me to fill out this Name Change Form?" He was sure. So, while I was changing my name in what seemed like a twilight zone moment, I took the opportunity to ask some questions. I explained that I was anxious to get my CT license. I needed the license to secure car insurance. And we needed the car insurance in order to get license plates. I wondered about the cost involved in registering our cars with the state. He listed the fees: $125 per car just to register, PLUS a 6% sales tax on the value of each car. My mad math skills kicked in as I was half listening. "So that's going to be between $2500 and $3000?" I exclaimed. He nodded. "But we already paid sales tax on the cars in Georgia," I argued.
"But you never paid them in the state of Connecticut," he responded then added, "Welcome to Connecticut!"
And so as I approached the lovely man who commanded Line #3, I was pondering the fact that if "Santa" must spend his (or her) life savings just to drive his (or her) sleigh in the state of CT, the children may receive nothing but coal in their stockings this year.
"Read the numbers from left to right," the Commander barked. I proceeded to read the numbers from right to left because, in my mind, he must have been asking me to follow specific, rather out of the ordinary instructions. After all, English is still this country's language, and English is read left to right. So if he had wanted me to read it left to right, he would have simply instructed me to "read the numbers". So when I received specific directionals, I assumed I was to do something different from the norm.
He glared at me. "I said read it from left to right."
"Oh." I rattled off the numbers. "I do know my left from my right," I added and flashed him a wry smile. He wasn't amused.
Next I was to look at a line of signs and identify the one that appeared the closest. I almost giggled when I wondered to myself how the Commander would react if I answered, "The little triangle one", but then I thought that perhaps not being able to identify a yield sign might be reason enough to prevent one from obtaining a driver's license in the state of Connecticut, so I refrained.
Needless to say, by the time I reached Line #4, I was not smiling so my picture looks more like a mug shot than a photo. I suppose that's more appropriate anyway. When you get stopped, I know from experience you aren't really in the mood to flash the officer a giant, friendly smile. So really the mug shot on a driver's license is a much more effective tool to use when trying to prove identity.
So I had my mug shot taken in Line #4. Line #5 didn't take long at all, and we were on our way home to await Trip #3 to the DMV.
Between Trip #2 and #3 my husband did the dirty work of finding local car insurance for both cars. Remember that ticket we got on our way to our not Disney Disney vacation back in 2009? That ticket never increased our rates with the friendly people at the Georgia Farm Bureau, but apparently when you live in the Insurance Capital of the World, they get you for everything. The ticket did indeed make a difference, but what can you do?
Trip #3 to the DMV began with the Grand Search for a Service Station That Will Check Emissions. We finally found one and headed over with both cars. At the DMV, only 2 lines were required for this task. Mark took care of his car, and I took care of mine. It was quite painless actually, and we left with new tags in our hands, a fact that doesn't make me all that happy: I had campaigned for keeping our Georgia tags through winter with the hopes that other drivers would throw me a little sympathy on the snowy roads.
As we left, I bid the DMV good-bye with an, "I hope I don't have to see you again until I have to bring my 16-year-old daughter here for her driving test." But then I retracted that farewell because, well, I have asked my daughter repeatedly to stop growing up, and I hope this year she'll actually listen to me. If she does, that will mean she'll stay at 10, and that will be fine with me.
Oh, and that astronomical tax fee the guy in charge of Line #2 on Trip #2? Well, I was informed by the kind man on Trip #3 that since we already paid sales tax on our cars in Georgia, there is no reason for us to pay them again in Connecticut. Hmmm...who'dathunk it? Now I'm just waiting for that phone call: "Uh, Ma'am, we're going to need you to come back in. Dude at Line #2 on your second trip to the DMV had you fill out a Name Change Form. That was the wrong form. Didn't you think it was strange he asked you to fill that out when you have been Mrs. P for over 15 years?"
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Today was a really good day.
I'm a pretty outgoing person. But I have to admit, I'm a little bit in overload and so anticipating days like today fill me with just a little apprehension. Today's agenda included ice skating with a homeschool group, an activity that, by itself, filled me with trepidation since my feet have not seen the likes of ice skates in over 20 years. Then there was the DMV, which also filled me with dread; my husband usually takes care of ugly, mundane tasks like this. Last there was church. We have found a church to call home, and until tonight, I did not know a soul there. I wasn't even sure I would feel the confidence by the end of the day to do the whole church thing.
We arrived at the ice skating rink quite early so we could take part in the lesson that was offered before the free skate. I was wishing I had special ordered matching sweatshirts that said, "Don't laugh. We're from Georgia", but everyone was super nice and helpful, and besides that, we all did great. The boys caught right on, Alex gave it a try, and Audrey took several laps holding on to the little skate walker thing. I didn't do too poorly myself.
After the skating rink, we headed to the DMV. I groaned when we walked in because of the crowd. In the middle of the day. On a Tuesday. How can this many people have business with the DMV in the middle of a Tuesday? This wasn't my first trip to the DMV. I went with Mark a couple of weeks ago. Waited in line. Waited in the waiting room. Only to find out that I needed my marriage license to prove that the Kathleen M. on my birth certificate is indeed the Kathleen P. on my current Georgia license. So I returned today to wait in the line again. Then to wait in the waiting room. To stand in another line and to wait again. Then another line. And waiting. The picture. More waiting. Strangely, all of those lines and the waiting really didn't take all that much time. You wouldn't know that from the kids, though, who complained it took too long even though they passed their time doing their schoolwork.
The kids were rewarded, though. While we were at the DMV, a new friend I met last week at the pumpkin farm called to see if we wanted to meet at a park. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm day in Connecticut today, so the park was a perfect way to spend the afternoon. And the kids had a great time with their new friends.
After the park, we headed home to regroup and freshen up before church...which I finally talked myself into. And I decided to go for it all: we went to the meal and to the kids' clubs and Bible studies. This church is so large for its facility that middle and high school groups meet Wednesday night while the young children and adults have their classes on Tuesday nights. It will be a little tricky next year when we have a middle schooler in our midst, but we'll figure that out next year.
The kids all had a good time in their classes, and I had a wonderful time in my study as well. I met quite a few people, joined another homeschool group, and committed to attending a Sunday School class on Sunday morning. It will be easier now on Sunday morning to go to church and see a few familiar faces; Sunday mornings are when I have most felt the homesickness--it's difficult walking the halls of a church without seeing any familiar faces.
Familiarity is good. It's what makes home feel comfortable. Connecticut is beginning to feel more and more like home. Now if only they would build a Chick-fil-A up here!
We arrived at the ice skating rink quite early so we could take part in the lesson that was offered before the free skate. I was wishing I had special ordered matching sweatshirts that said, "Don't laugh. We're from Georgia", but everyone was super nice and helpful, and besides that, we all did great. The boys caught right on, Alex gave it a try, and Audrey took several laps holding on to the little skate walker thing. I didn't do too poorly myself.
After the skating rink, we headed to the DMV. I groaned when we walked in because of the crowd. In the middle of the day. On a Tuesday. How can this many people have business with the DMV in the middle of a Tuesday? This wasn't my first trip to the DMV. I went with Mark a couple of weeks ago. Waited in line. Waited in the waiting room. Only to find out that I needed my marriage license to prove that the Kathleen M. on my birth certificate is indeed the Kathleen P. on my current Georgia license. So I returned today to wait in the line again. Then to wait in the waiting room. To stand in another line and to wait again. Then another line. And waiting. The picture. More waiting. Strangely, all of those lines and the waiting really didn't take all that much time. You wouldn't know that from the kids, though, who complained it took too long even though they passed their time doing their schoolwork.
The kids were rewarded, though. While we were at the DMV, a new friend I met last week at the pumpkin farm called to see if we wanted to meet at a park. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm day in Connecticut today, so the park was a perfect way to spend the afternoon. And the kids had a great time with their new friends.
After the park, we headed home to regroup and freshen up before church...which I finally talked myself into. And I decided to go for it all: we went to the meal and to the kids' clubs and Bible studies. This church is so large for its facility that middle and high school groups meet Wednesday night while the young children and adults have their classes on Tuesday nights. It will be a little tricky next year when we have a middle schooler in our midst, but we'll figure that out next year.
The kids all had a good time in their classes, and I had a wonderful time in my study as well. I met quite a few people, joined another homeschool group, and committed to attending a Sunday School class on Sunday morning. It will be easier now on Sunday morning to go to church and see a few familiar faces; Sunday mornings are when I have most felt the homesickness--it's difficult walking the halls of a church without seeing any familiar faces.
Familiarity is good. It's what makes home feel comfortable. Connecticut is beginning to feel more and more like home. Now if only they would build a Chick-fil-A up here!
Monday, October 18, 2010
This Old House
I'm prefacing this entire post by saying that we are incredibly blessed to have found such a great rental home. It's quirky, yes, but absolutely way more than adequate for our family.
The vet who took Daisy came over to our house a few days before the drop-off to meet her. "Wow! What a nice area," she commented. "It's lovely to see such new homes!" The home we are renting was built in the '70s. Having built our home in 2005, this home to us is old. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.
If you'll recall, this is the home that had the Dog Smell. Well, we certainly did not help it out at all with Crazy Daisy, but we purchased an ozone generator, and we are slowly but surely, room-by-room, eradicating the smell for good. The cat thanks us for that.
Our home is quite a large one and, in fact, has two front doors because it underwent a major addition years after it was built. The addition added a garage which is deep enough to house 4 cars.
Although we do not own 4 cars, we have made very good use of the extra garage space for storage. Above the garage is an unfinished, very large bonus area. We are not using this area for a number of reasons. First, the owners are using it for storage. Second, a rather precarious stairway leads up to the bonus area, and we aren't quite sure how to get to the local ER yet. Last, there is an odd hook and chain thing that hangs from the roof in the bonus area. I am not sure I want to know what it was used for in times past, but I can think of two mischievous boys who would be happy to re-purpose it. So the area is off limits.
We also do not venture into the basement. At least I don't. It's dark, musty, and creepy. The kids go down every now and again to play ping pong on the table the owners left. I have actually made the trip down a couple of times to check the oil level on the ancient oil tank that fuels our heat.
As for the part of our home we actually inhabit, it has lots of character. One of the things I find most quirky is all of the different flooring. If I'm counting right, there are 12 different kinds of flooring, 7 of them downstairs. There are these two different kinds of carpet in two adjoining rooms. No threshold, no transition of any kind.
Then there is this area where 3 kinds meet and are broken only by the marble threshold.
Then of course there are the light switches. There are numerous light switches. In every room. In some rooms, there are 3 switches that turn on the same light. The kitchen alone has 3 different light zones, and each zone has 1 or 2 switches that control it. There are many switches that we have not yet figured out. Then there is our room. As you walk into the room, there is a little panel where a light switch should be, but there is no light switch. Instead, the switch is way over on the other side of the room, over by the far window. I'm sure it would not be difficult at all to turn that panel into an actual switch, but since this is not our house, we will not fiddle with the electrical wiring.
"If this was our house, I'd...". That is a common phrase in this house. It's not our house so we won't make any changes, but we are enjoying living in it. Our favorite place to hang out is our kitchen, which is open to a small living room with a fireplace.
There is a lot of counter space in the kitchen, and the countertop bar seats six (someone knew we were coming), so we eat all of our meals in here. Of course, there is no commercial grade stove/oven here, but the double oven is a lifesaver, and the stove will do.
The vet who took Daisy came over to our house a few days before the drop-off to meet her. "Wow! What a nice area," she commented. "It's lovely to see such new homes!" The home we are renting was built in the '70s. Having built our home in 2005, this home to us is old. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.
If you'll recall, this is the home that had the Dog Smell. Well, we certainly did not help it out at all with Crazy Daisy, but we purchased an ozone generator, and we are slowly but surely, room-by-room, eradicating the smell for good. The cat thanks us for that.
Our home is quite a large one and, in fact, has two front doors because it underwent a major addition years after it was built. The addition added a garage which is deep enough to house 4 cars.
Although we do not own 4 cars, we have made very good use of the extra garage space for storage. Above the garage is an unfinished, very large bonus area. We are not using this area for a number of reasons. First, the owners are using it for storage. Second, a rather precarious stairway leads up to the bonus area, and we aren't quite sure how to get to the local ER yet. Last, there is an odd hook and chain thing that hangs from the roof in the bonus area. I am not sure I want to know what it was used for in times past, but I can think of two mischievous boys who would be happy to re-purpose it. So the area is off limits.
We also do not venture into the basement. At least I don't. It's dark, musty, and creepy. The kids go down every now and again to play ping pong on the table the owners left. I have actually made the trip down a couple of times to check the oil level on the ancient oil tank that fuels our heat.
As for the part of our home we actually inhabit, it has lots of character. One of the things I find most quirky is all of the different flooring. If I'm counting right, there are 12 different kinds of flooring, 7 of them downstairs. There are these two different kinds of carpet in two adjoining rooms. No threshold, no transition of any kind.
Then there is this area where 3 kinds meet and are broken only by the marble threshold.
Then of course there are the light switches. There are numerous light switches. In every room. In some rooms, there are 3 switches that turn on the same light. The kitchen alone has 3 different light zones, and each zone has 1 or 2 switches that control it. There are many switches that we have not yet figured out. Then there is our room. As you walk into the room, there is a little panel where a light switch should be, but there is no light switch. Instead, the switch is way over on the other side of the room, over by the far window. I'm sure it would not be difficult at all to turn that panel into an actual switch, but since this is not our house, we will not fiddle with the electrical wiring.
"If this was our house, I'd...". That is a common phrase in this house. It's not our house so we won't make any changes, but we are enjoying living in it. Our favorite place to hang out is our kitchen, which is open to a small living room with a fireplace.
There is a lot of counter space in the kitchen, and the countertop bar seats six (someone knew we were coming), so we eat all of our meals in here. Of course, there is no commercial grade stove/oven here, but the double oven is a lifesaver, and the stove will do.
The dining room is right off the kitchen, and this is where we do school. Since it is off the kitchen, it is very convenient. There is a lovely window that looks out of the dining room onto a HUGE deck.
I suppose we might make use of that next summer. What we won't use is the above ground pool. We had them cover it. I do not like above ground pools, and I would hate to be responsible for someone else's pool. It's surprising how many people here have pools. They use them for what? Two months out of the year? And what's even stranger is that fences are not required around a pool. Not good to have the liability.
Anyway, the downstairs half bath is around the corner from the dining room. And, tada! It's a multi-purpose room. Yes, that's a toilet. And, yes, that's my washing machine. I bet you don't have a Half Bath-Laundry Room in your house!
Another favorite place is the very large living room. It is also a multi-purpose room: a gym, a library, a piano room, and a theater. OK, so it's not a theater. Our theater chairs are in there, but our other theater stuff is packed up. But our
laundry holdertreadmill is in there as is our keyboard. If only I could find the piano books. And this room has a fireplace like the smaller living room.
Off of the living room is yet another multi-purpose room. It serves as my office, a guest room, and the laundry staging area. And, yes, that is a curtain to the left of the picture. There is no door on this room, so it is not officially a bedroom, but I threaded some curtain panels on a tension shower rod and voila! A "door".
There is also a little room/closet off of the office/guest/laundry staging room that I use to store school stuff and the kitty's potty.
I suppose we might make use of that next summer. What we won't use is the above ground pool. We had them cover it. I do not like above ground pools, and I would hate to be responsible for someone else's pool. It's surprising how many people here have pools. They use them for what? Two months out of the year? And what's even stranger is that fences are not required around a pool. Not good to have the liability.
Anyway, the downstairs half bath is around the corner from the dining room. And, tada! It's a multi-purpose room. Yes, that's a toilet. And, yes, that's my washing machine. I bet you don't have a Half Bath-Laundry Room in your house!
Another favorite place is the very large living room. It is also a multi-purpose room: a gym, a library, a piano room, and a theater. OK, so it's not a theater. Our theater chairs are in there, but our other theater stuff is packed up. But our
Off of the living room is yet another multi-purpose room. It serves as my office, a guest room, and the laundry staging area. And, yes, that is a curtain to the left of the picture. There is no door on this room, so it is not officially a bedroom, but I threaded some curtain panels on a tension shower rod and voila! A "door".
There is also a little room/closet off of the office/guest/laundry staging room that I use to store school stuff and the kitty's potty.
That is downstairs. Upstairs are 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. Which I'm not going to show you because the kids rooms are a wreck, and we still have a couple of boxes in our room, and I really want to maintain the perception that we are entirely together and are totally unpacked.
So, we are very comfortable here and very happy to have this house available to us. We'll see what happens in a year. Then we will decide where we want to be. Most likely, we will move close to whatever church we eventually call home. All of our married life, we have been 30-45 minutes from our church--we have never lived where we live, and I want to change that. So once we find a church, we will better be able to choose a city in which to live. One thing I thought would never come out of my mouth is that I would love to own an old home, and not old like from the 70s but old like from the early 1900s. My oldest daughter is not at all happy about my campaign to own some history, but until she offers to pay the mortgage, we can go as far back in history as we wish!
**I stole a couple of these pictures (the 2 pics of the front of the house and the deck picture) from the real estate listing.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Exploring
I have become very taken with New England. So a day of exploring was a perfect way to spend a Saturday. Although we had very gusty winds, it was a beautiful day for us to head to the shore.
The drive there was beautiful; honestly, I'm in awe every time we step out the door. My children just roll their eyes and ask, "Are you going to take a picture of every tree in Connecticut?" Someday they'll grow to appreciate the beauty God lays out for them in this world.
I love this area of the world, and I cannot believe I spent 37 years oblivious to it. I know I said this before--OK, several times--but the landscape is amazingly beautiful. And it's not just the autumn colors (which are phenomenal!). There are places like this one 1/4 mile from our house where the view is just breathtaking.
The history of this place has captured me as well. The town where Mark works was established in 1645. I can't believe it - 25 years after the Pilgrims landed! In great excitement, I often reiterate this to the children. Again, one day perhaps they will appreciate things like that. I love the old architecture that is everywhere, the fact that not a single house is like the one next to it.
Numerous hardwood trees form dense forests everywhere, forests that bring Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken to mind. And all of the charming stone walls, of course, make his Mending Wall come alive.
I love it that there are mountains (or probably more appropriately called "hills") everywhere, yet the beach is only 45 minutes away. I love all of the interesting stores and restaurants. There are not as many chain establishments here as in the south, but that really doesn't bother me; it's fun trying all of the new things.
I love it that there are mountains (or probably more appropriately called "hills") everywhere, yet the beach is only 45 minutes away. I love all of the interesting stores and restaurants. There are not as many chain establishments here as in the south, but that really doesn't bother me; it's fun trying all of the new things.
Of course, one chain definitely has a presence here is Dunkin Donuts; there is one on every corner. Literally.
The one thing I don't like here? There are no Starbucks with drive-thrus. I may have to give in and become a Dunkin Donut customer for that fact. But if all I have to do is give up Starbucks, I'm OK with that.
The one thing I don't like here? There are no Starbucks with drive-thrus. I may have to give in and become a Dunkin Donut customer for that fact. But if all I have to do is give up Starbucks, I'm OK with that.
The one thing I know you're thinking, though, is, She hasn't gotten to winter yet. And, you're right--I'm still a little bit terrified about the fact that there is already snow in Canada and Vermont, and we're not that far from either. That means we'll probably start seeing it in a month, but you know what? I know it is going to be beautiful here when it snows. So, I plan to just embrace it, enjoy its beauty, and have fun playing in it with the kids.
Mark said to me last night, "If we hadn't been living here yet but had taken the drive we took today, you would have been saying to me the whole time, 'Let's move here!'". I know he's right.
Friday, October 15, 2010
A Simple Phrase
Mark asked me this evening if this feels like home. I didn't hesitate in saying yes, but I followed my answer up by voicing a strange feeling I have that, on the one hand, even though we've only been here a month, it feels like home; on the other hand, it is strange because we still don't really know anyone. I have met lots of wonderful people, and I therefore can match some new faces to their names, but I don't know any of them yet. Additionally, although I can now arrive at several destinations without the aid of the GPS, I'm doubtful I know the routes well enough that I could direct anyone else to those destinations.
It is home. A simple phrase which sounds surreal to me because I never would have imagined it. In fact, if you had asked me 3 months ago for my Top 50 Places I Would Like Live list, I can almost guarantee that Connecticut would not have been on there. But after experiencing life in New England, I can't believe I never considered putting it on The List. It is amazing here. I love the charm of the little towns nestled in the trees, the homes hidden away in the hills, the little mom and pop shops that serve each little township. And besides all of that it is absolutely beautiful here! The outside is splashed with colors I never knew existed on autumn trees, and the setting for those trees is just lovely.
Nothing is flat here (which I know will present a whole new problem when I set out to drive in the winter). And there are parks everywhere. Numerous little hiking trails are tucked away here and there in every direction. Besides the outdoor possibilities, there is so much to do here. If I wanted to, I could schedule a field trip everyday.
Then there are the people. Stereotypically, a northerner is abrupt and rude. I have yet to meet someone who matches that stereotype. (Well, unless you count the guy I almost ran into at the corner of B- St. and J- St. I turned left in front of a line of cars because the front car was turning right on the street where I was. The guy behind him got impatient and tried to go around him at the same time I was turning left. I guess he wasn't all that angry because he waved at me. Poor guy, though--he was missing all but one of his fingers. I smiled to let him know I forgave him for crossing the double yellow line.) Everyone we have met here is extra friendly and bends over backwards to be welcoming and of help.
So, do I miss my old home? Of course I do. I miss the familiarity and, most importantly, the people who were, and still are, such an important part of our lives. But I'm happy here, and I look forward to growing a familiarity here and to getting to know the people who will hopefully become an important part of our lives here. It is home.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
New Adventures
We had our first official homeschool outing today: to The Big E, which apparently is a Big Deal up here. It is like a county fair on steroids, and I was able to secure free tickets to the event for the kids. We had a good time. It was pouring down rain when we got there, so we had a very early lunch in the car, and during our brunch, the downpour subsided. It was still a little soggy throughout the day, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway.
We toured the Avenue of States which offers a replica of each of the New England states earliest capital buildings. The replicas are large enough to walk through, and vendors from the states offer their wares and business information. I scored a ton of information on our new home state and those surrounding so we are better prepared to explore.
There were several venues with live animals to see, pet, and feed. Our favorite animals, though, were probably the gorgeous white tigers that performed for us at the Big E circus. A pretty impressive little Big Top, especially considering it was included in the price of entry to the fair.
What was not included were the carnival rides which cost a fortune. I let the kids choose one. The boys did a roller coaster, Alex a spinning swing, and Audrey and I enjoyed a few rounds on the ferris wheel.
While we were at the fair, I ran into someone I know. Not something I would expect to say after being here only 2 weeks. In all fairness, it was a fellow homeschooler I met just last night at a girls' night out. I have met several homeschoolers in the area already, and they are all so very nice. Everyone, really, is nice here. I think New Englanders get a bad rap. At least I can speak for New Englanders in Connecticut.
Honestly, I really am enjoying our new life here. It is absolutely beautiful here for one thing. For some reason, I can't get the photography blood flowing again, but it'll come. There WILL be pictures at some point in the near future!
We toured the Avenue of States which offers a replica of each of the New England states earliest capital buildings. The replicas are large enough to walk through, and vendors from the states offer their wares and business information. I scored a ton of information on our new home state and those surrounding so we are better prepared to explore.
There were several venues with live animals to see, pet, and feed. Our favorite animals, though, were probably the gorgeous white tigers that performed for us at the Big E circus. A pretty impressive little Big Top, especially considering it was included in the price of entry to the fair.
What was not included were the carnival rides which cost a fortune. I let the kids choose one. The boys did a roller coaster, Alex a spinning swing, and Audrey and I enjoyed a few rounds on the ferris wheel.
While we were at the fair, I ran into someone I know. Not something I would expect to say after being here only 2 weeks. In all fairness, it was a fellow homeschooler I met just last night at a girls' night out. I have met several homeschoolers in the area already, and they are all so very nice. Everyone, really, is nice here. I think New Englanders get a bad rap. At least I can speak for New Englanders in Connecticut.
Honestly, I really am enjoying our new life here. It is absolutely beautiful here for one thing. For some reason, I can't get the photography blood flowing again, but it'll come. There WILL be pictures at some point in the near future!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A New Chapter
Well, we are officially Connecticutians Connecticutans Connecticutters people who live in Connecticut. It's hard to believe we've only been here a week. I bounce from feeling a million years away from "home" to feeling like we must just be on vacation, and we'll be returning "home" any day now. I've been OK, though; I haven't lost it like I did during several especially difficult good-byes.
Of course I am always reminded of the fact that we are strangers in this state when I leave the house. I know my way well enough to each of the 3 grocery stores in town that I could probably almost give you directions, but to go anywhere else? Thank goodness for the GPS on one hand. On the other, I completely believe there is some evil GPS puppeteer somewhere in Satellite Land who amuses himself with directing people like me. "Hmmm...I'll send her down Maple Ave. to get there, but just so she doesn't learn her way around, I'll bring her back home down Elm St. [insert maniacal laughter]." What we need is a map. What we forget every time we go to the store is a map.
And we have gone to the store. As cheap as this move was supposed to be, there are always those acquisitions that become necessary when trying to transfer your stuff from your house where they had their exact right place to a new house where there isn't just the right place. There are rugs to buy, storage helps, etc.
For as big as this house is, there is little storage. For example, the master bathroom has a pedestal sink. It looks lovely, it really does, but since there are no cabinets, no shelves, no nothin', a cabinet under the sink would have been so helpful. But things are finding their spot. I am down to about 6 boxes left in the house. I thought about photographing the pile of broken down boxes I have sitting on the porch because the pile is pretty impressive; however, I am just too tired to get up, find the camera, and obtain the picture. And if I get back my energy and feel like unpacking more boxes, there are about 100 of them in the garage. Things we don't really need in the house. Of course, since we don't need them, I find myself asking why we have them. Where did all this stuff come from? And why did it all come to CT with us? I thought we purged before we left!
So slowly but surely we are getting settled. We started school this week which has gone well. I'm sure there will be more fun details to come when I'm not so tired!
PS - I am a part of Swagbucks. And I like SB, I really do--I just got $10 worth of Amazon gift cards for doing nothing really. BUT, I just published this post and noticed SB has linked to some of my words, like pedestal sink, for example. This is very annoying to me. Why must everything online be so invasive? When I'm not so tired, I shall investigate this and get rid of the obnoxious links. For now, sorry--don't click on the links with double underlines; they do not link to any profound information from moi.
Of course I am always reminded of the fact that we are strangers in this state when I leave the house. I know my way well enough to each of the 3 grocery stores in town that I could probably almost give you directions, but to go anywhere else? Thank goodness for the GPS on one hand. On the other, I completely believe there is some evil GPS puppeteer somewhere in Satellite Land who amuses himself with directing people like me. "Hmmm...I'll send her down Maple Ave. to get there, but just so she doesn't learn her way around, I'll bring her back home down Elm St. [insert maniacal laughter]." What we need is a map. What we forget every time we go to the store is a map.
And we have gone to the store. As cheap as this move was supposed to be, there are always those acquisitions that become necessary when trying to transfer your stuff from your house where they had their exact right place to a new house where there isn't just the right place. There are rugs to buy, storage helps, etc.
For as big as this house is, there is little storage. For example, the master bathroom has a pedestal sink. It looks lovely, it really does, but since there are no cabinets, no shelves, no nothin', a cabinet under the sink would have been so helpful. But things are finding their spot. I am down to about 6 boxes left in the house. I thought about photographing the pile of broken down boxes I have sitting on the porch because the pile is pretty impressive; however, I am just too tired to get up, find the camera, and obtain the picture. And if I get back my energy and feel like unpacking more boxes, there are about 100 of them in the garage. Things we don't really need in the house. Of course, since we don't need them, I find myself asking why we have them. Where did all this stuff come from? And why did it all come to CT with us? I thought we purged before we left!
So slowly but surely we are getting settled. We started school this week which has gone well. I'm sure there will be more fun details to come when I'm not so tired!
PS - I am a part of Swagbucks. And I like SB, I really do--I just got $10 worth of Amazon gift cards for doing nothing really. BUT, I just published this post and noticed SB has linked to some of my words, like pedestal sink, for example. This is very annoying to me. Why must everything online be so invasive? When I'm not so tired, I shall investigate this and get rid of the obnoxious links. For now, sorry--don't click on the links with double underlines; they do not link to any profound information from moi.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
PADD (Packing Attention Deficit Disorder)
I've moved a lot in my life. Our rental in Connecticut will be my 22nd address in 37 years, and that does not account for the fact that during all of my school years I spent a rotating 3 months at one address and anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months at home, thus dividing my time at school into trimesters. That was the nature of boarding school. It was always nice, though, because every three months there was a new roommate, a new room, and sometimes even a new dorm. I like moving. It's in my blood now. What I do NOT like about moving, however, is packing. Unpacking is fun because I love to be in a new place, and I love to organize. But the packing? My general feeling is...GROAN!!
Packing takes a long time for me because I have Packing ADD. It goes something like this: I decide to tackle my scrapbooking stuff. It has been a sweet forever since I've scrapped anything. Hmm...it's been a long time since I've looked at these scrapbooks. Awww...look at my sweet babies! Oh, and look! Photo albums from high school. Well, that's an embarrassing picture of her. I wonder if I uploaded that one to Facebook. I should go check. Oh look, 3 new messages on Facebook. Let me just respond to these. Oh, and emails too. And a reminder here. Looks like I have some bills to pay. I'll just go to my desk for the bills. Wow! I have a few things to pack here on my desk. But first I really should sort through some of these homeschool files. Ooohh, homeschool plans. Wow! I've got some great things here for reading. But I bet if I looked hard enough I could find a fun project online for Mr. Popper's Penguins...
What was I doing again?
Yeah, at that rate, I'd have our house packed by 2013. Thankfully, this time we have movers. I have never been spoiled with movers, and, really, it is spoiling me; I'm not sure I will ever be able to do it the old-fashioned way again. Since the Big News about a month ago, I have done a lot of work sorting through things, and I've even packed a few boxes, but otherwise, life has just continued on with as much normalcy as sitting around waiting for the Big Move can offer.
This morning the packers arrived. Five of them. We took them on a quick tour of the house, pointing out the area where we have piled the things we need for living until we are reunited with our stuff. Everything else was fair game. And they attacked, literally it seemed. They got things packed so quickly, if there was something that got left out of the Pile of Stuff for Living, forget it. I did manage to rescue one soap pump so we can wash our hands for the next two days. Unfortunately, Mark will be without a bath towel, and the boys will have to find an alternate to pillows for the next couple of days because those items are packed and sealed.
My house went from Home to big, echoey rooms in a matter of a couple of hours. And really the only sound bouncing off of the empty walls is that of the packing tape sealing each one of a couple hundred boxes. The kids have been surprisingly silent considering there is nothing left to play with. This is because the couple hundred boxes have provided much amusement for them. Suddenly the house has been transformed into a castle, a clubhouse, a maze.
So thankfully my PADD has been rendered irrelevant for this move. If only I could bring my Tasks-That-Still-Need-to-be-Done ADD under check.
Packing takes a long time for me because I have Packing ADD. It goes something like this: I decide to tackle my scrapbooking stuff. It has been a sweet forever since I've scrapped anything. Hmm...it's been a long time since I've looked at these scrapbooks. Awww...look at my sweet babies! Oh, and look! Photo albums from high school. Well, that's an embarrassing picture of her. I wonder if I uploaded that one to Facebook. I should go check. Oh look, 3 new messages on Facebook. Let me just respond to these. Oh, and emails too. And a reminder here. Looks like I have some bills to pay. I'll just go to my desk for the bills. Wow! I have a few things to pack here on my desk. But first I really should sort through some of these homeschool files. Ooohh, homeschool plans. Wow! I've got some great things here for reading. But I bet if I looked hard enough I could find a fun project online for Mr. Popper's Penguins...
What was I doing again?
Yeah, at that rate, I'd have our house packed by 2013. Thankfully, this time we have movers. I have never been spoiled with movers, and, really, it is spoiling me; I'm not sure I will ever be able to do it the old-fashioned way again. Since the Big News about a month ago, I have done a lot of work sorting through things, and I've even packed a few boxes, but otherwise, life has just continued on with as much normalcy as sitting around waiting for the Big Move can offer.
This morning the packers arrived. Five of them. We took them on a quick tour of the house, pointing out the area where we have piled the things we need for living until we are reunited with our stuff. Everything else was fair game. And they attacked, literally it seemed. They got things packed so quickly, if there was something that got left out of the Pile of Stuff for Living, forget it. I did manage to rescue one soap pump so we can wash our hands for the next two days. Unfortunately, Mark will be without a bath towel, and the boys will have to find an alternate to pillows for the next couple of days because those items are packed and sealed.
My house went from Home to big, echoey rooms in a matter of a couple of hours. And really the only sound bouncing off of the empty walls is that of the packing tape sealing each one of a couple hundred boxes. The kids have been surprisingly silent considering there is nothing left to play with. This is because the couple hundred boxes have provided much amusement for them. Suddenly the house has been transformed into a castle, a clubhouse, a maze.
So thankfully my PADD has been rendered irrelevant for this move. If only I could bring my Tasks-That-Still-Need-to-be-Done ADD under check.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The Garage Sale
It's amazing, really, that we can get anyone to come to a garage sale at our house. There are a lot of obstacles that stand in the way. First, we live on a private, one-lane street. Secondly, our driveway is so long and narrow, it takes a college degree to figure out how to get off of the driveway once you are on the driveway. But you put up the signs, and the garage salers come out of the woodwork. And a couple of weekends ago, come they did.
We practically gave stuff away, which was fine with us; we just wanted the Stuff gone. We had two star shoppers. One was a lady who seemed to be in as much need of a friend as our junk because she stuck around for about 3 hours talking and browsing. She took most of our backyard furniture. I hope the listening ear I gave her for those 3 hours was a treasure for her as much as our junk.
Another shopper bought our outside swing and then inquired about our playground. It's a big playground, one that took Mark and a friend a week to assemble. Mark said, "Sure you can take it so long as you disassemble it." She brought in reinforcements, and cleared it out of our yard. During the disassembly, she asked about our storage shed that sits in the corner of our lot, the big storage shed which Mark painted the same color as our house so it would, you know, look like it belonged to our house. It's not for sale. I hope we don't come back to Atlanta for a visit to find our house has been disassembled brick by brick by her and her crew and carted off to who-knows-where.
Of course there was also the shopper with whom I refused to deal. We had our pack & play out for sale. $5.00 is all I was asking. This shopper asked me what my final price was. I'm sure I looked at him like he was crazy. Least I hope that's the look I gave him. "Ummm...it's a crib. It's $5.00." He wanted to give me $3.00 for it. It ended up not selling, and we ended up giving it to the playground lady for free, but I'm happy with that. You see, it's the principle of the matter.
So 20 years of junk is gone. What didn't go out in the trunk of someone else's car has gone to Goodwill or to the dump. Here's hoping we don't accumulate that much junk in the next 20 years of our lives. A futile hope I'm sure.
We practically gave stuff away, which was fine with us; we just wanted the Stuff gone. We had two star shoppers. One was a lady who seemed to be in as much need of a friend as our junk because she stuck around for about 3 hours talking and browsing. She took most of our backyard furniture. I hope the listening ear I gave her for those 3 hours was a treasure for her as much as our junk.
Another shopper bought our outside swing and then inquired about our playground. It's a big playground, one that took Mark and a friend a week to assemble. Mark said, "Sure you can take it so long as you disassemble it." She brought in reinforcements, and cleared it out of our yard. During the disassembly, she asked about our storage shed that sits in the corner of our lot, the big storage shed which Mark painted the same color as our house so it would, you know, look like it belonged to our house. It's not for sale. I hope we don't come back to Atlanta for a visit to find our house has been disassembled brick by brick by her and her crew and carted off to who-knows-where.
Of course there was also the shopper with whom I refused to deal. We had our pack & play out for sale. $5.00 is all I was asking. This shopper asked me what my final price was. I'm sure I looked at him like he was crazy. Least I hope that's the look I gave him. "Ummm...it's a crib. It's $5.00." He wanted to give me $3.00 for it. It ended up not selling, and we ended up giving it to the playground lady for free, but I'm happy with that. You see, it's the principle of the matter.
So 20 years of junk is gone. What didn't go out in the trunk of someone else's car has gone to Goodwill or to the dump. Here's hoping we don't accumulate that much junk in the next 20 years of our lives. A futile hope I'm sure.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Smell
A couple weeks ago, we took a family trip to Connecticut to check out the area and to secure a rental home. The kids were so excited to fly! Audrey had never flown, and Jacob does not remember the time he flew. As we were lifting off, a big smile spread over Michael's face, and he exclaimed, "Awesome!"
Connecticut really is beautiful. I know fall is going to be extraordinary. And I'm sure winter will be gorgeous as well. I plan to look upon its gorgeousness from a window in my new rental home.
Our realtor set aside her whole Friday for us even though we thought we had already made our decision just based on our online searches. I'm thankful she did. We were excited as we pulled up to our first pick and had all but decided this was the one. It was the one closest to Mark's work, and it was a great size for our family.
We hopped out of the car, armed with a camera because pictures would make planning easier. The realtor opened the door, and we all crowded in. And that's when it hit us: Dog Smell. It was overwhelming, so much so that I forgot to take any pictures. We failed to take note of any of the details of the house. We only noticed Dog.
So we didn't make the decision right then on that house like we thought we would and proceeded on to the next. The next house looked like a newer home, almost like a regular ol' Georgia home in a regular ol' subdivision. It did have a gravel driveway, though. Which I thought I could deal with until Mark had the sense to ask the realtor what happens to the gravel driveway in the winter. "Oh, well as you plow the snow, the gravel gets pushed to the end of the driveway, and you have to re-spread it in the spring."
Seriously?
That seems like an awful lot of work because of precipitation.
The gravel driveway turned out not to be the worst part about the house, though. There was no walkway to the front door. Nope. Just lawn. And not a very nice one at that.
Seriously?
Who would build a house and not take the time to pave a little walkway to the front door?
So we moved on to the next house, which was a nice one. Very private. The kids would have had a WONDERFUL time exploring this property. There was a little stream running through, lots of woods. The current tenants happened to be there and said they saw a lot of wildlife. They also told us they were being transferred to Atlanta. I may have said, "Oh, I'm SO jealous!!"
We were close to choosing this house, but it was quite a trek from Mark's work, plus the windy, hilly roads, coupled with the fact that I have absolutely no idea how to drive in snow only conjured up pictures of me and the kids in a crumpled van at the bottom of a ravine. So we nixed that one.
Then came the house of my dreams. It smelled old when we walked in. Not old like mothballs and old granny shawls, but old like History. It was a magnificent house. Huge. Storage everywhere. And it had a kind of heating system that is through the floors. I think maybe it's called radiant heating. So that in the middle of winter when it's a thousand below outside, you and your toes are nice and toasty because the flooring is hot! That would be awesome.
And so much better than the heating at the other homes. They all use oil heating. With oil heating you have to remember to get a tank in the basement filled. Which means if you forget to keep an eye on it, you could run out of hot water and heat when it's a thousand degrees below outside. Plus, instead of having nice, out-of-the-way vents set in the ceiling out of which blows the hot air, there are these little box things that run along the baseboards of most walls. Which means--where do you put things? Like a desk or a dresser or a bookcase? I guess you just put it there, thus blocking the much needed heat, plus looking stupid because it's halfway out in the room instead of flush against the wall.
Anyway. This house seemed perfect. Yes, it was the farthest from Mark's house, but the rent was cheaper, plus they would cover landscaping and snow removal. BUT their 6 month to a year lease was very strict. And we have no idea if we will be ready to buy a house in a year.
So we passed on that house. The main reason we passed was because of the time restriction. What we certainly don't want to do is to have to move into another rental in a year. Another almost as valid reason is because I don't think we'll be able to afford to buy a house like that, and I sure would much rather feel like I'm movin' up from the rental rather than down.
In the end, after weighing all the pros and cons, we decided to go with the house with the Smell. A smell, after all, can be eradicated. I hope. It's in our contract. The Smell must be gone by next week. We're sending our realtor in to make sure it is. And for cryin' out loud, can't you just wash your dog every once in awhile? But we decided on this house because it is most convenient to work, and I'd rather be close to Mark's work during our transition than living with toasty toes.
So we move in end of next week. I plan to bathe our dog shortly after the move. But, please...if you come to visit and our house smells like Dog, be honest and let me know so I can take care of it. Thank you.
Connecticut really is beautiful. I know fall is going to be extraordinary. And I'm sure winter will be gorgeous as well. I plan to look upon its gorgeousness from a window in my new rental home.
Our realtor set aside her whole Friday for us even though we thought we had already made our decision just based on our online searches. I'm thankful she did. We were excited as we pulled up to our first pick and had all but decided this was the one. It was the one closest to Mark's work, and it was a great size for our family.
We hopped out of the car, armed with a camera because pictures would make planning easier. The realtor opened the door, and we all crowded in. And that's when it hit us: Dog Smell. It was overwhelming, so much so that I forgot to take any pictures. We failed to take note of any of the details of the house. We only noticed Dog.
So we didn't make the decision right then on that house like we thought we would and proceeded on to the next. The next house looked like a newer home, almost like a regular ol' Georgia home in a regular ol' subdivision. It did have a gravel driveway, though. Which I thought I could deal with until Mark had the sense to ask the realtor what happens to the gravel driveway in the winter. "Oh, well as you plow the snow, the gravel gets pushed to the end of the driveway, and you have to re-spread it in the spring."
Seriously?
That seems like an awful lot of work because of precipitation.
The gravel driveway turned out not to be the worst part about the house, though. There was no walkway to the front door. Nope. Just lawn. And not a very nice one at that.
Seriously?
Who would build a house and not take the time to pave a little walkway to the front door?
So we moved on to the next house, which was a nice one. Very private. The kids would have had a WONDERFUL time exploring this property. There was a little stream running through, lots of woods. The current tenants happened to be there and said they saw a lot of wildlife. They also told us they were being transferred to Atlanta. I may have said, "Oh, I'm SO jealous!!"
We were close to choosing this house, but it was quite a trek from Mark's work, plus the windy, hilly roads, coupled with the fact that I have absolutely no idea how to drive in snow only conjured up pictures of me and the kids in a crumpled van at the bottom of a ravine. So we nixed that one.
Then came the house of my dreams. It smelled old when we walked in. Not old like mothballs and old granny shawls, but old like History. It was a magnificent house. Huge. Storage everywhere. And it had a kind of heating system that is through the floors. I think maybe it's called radiant heating. So that in the middle of winter when it's a thousand below outside, you and your toes are nice and toasty because the flooring is hot! That would be awesome.
And so much better than the heating at the other homes. They all use oil heating. With oil heating you have to remember to get a tank in the basement filled. Which means if you forget to keep an eye on it, you could run out of hot water and heat when it's a thousand degrees below outside. Plus, instead of having nice, out-of-the-way vents set in the ceiling out of which blows the hot air, there are these little box things that run along the baseboards of most walls. Which means--where do you put things? Like a desk or a dresser or a bookcase? I guess you just put it there, thus blocking the much needed heat, plus looking stupid because it's halfway out in the room instead of flush against the wall.
Anyway. This house seemed perfect. Yes, it was the farthest from Mark's house, but the rent was cheaper, plus they would cover landscaping and snow removal. BUT their 6 month to a year lease was very strict. And we have no idea if we will be ready to buy a house in a year.
So we passed on that house. The main reason we passed was because of the time restriction. What we certainly don't want to do is to have to move into another rental in a year. Another almost as valid reason is because I don't think we'll be able to afford to buy a house like that, and I sure would much rather feel like I'm movin' up from the rental rather than down.
In the end, after weighing all the pros and cons, we decided to go with the house with the Smell. A smell, after all, can be eradicated. I hope. It's in our contract. The Smell must be gone by next week. We're sending our realtor in to make sure it is. And for cryin' out loud, can't you just wash your dog every once in awhile? But we decided on this house because it is most convenient to work, and I'd rather be close to Mark's work during our transition than living with toasty toes.
So we move in end of next week. I plan to bathe our dog shortly after the move. But, please...if you come to visit and our house smells like Dog, be honest and let me know so I can take care of it. Thank you.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The Big News
Please, Lord, don't send me to Africa. You hear a lot of missionary testimonies about how this prayer was uttered, yet they ended up in Africa. My prayer has always been, Please, Lord, don't send me anywhere that's cold. Like Connecticut. I guess like Brer Rabbit, I should have been asking not to go to Africa. I should have been asking to please be sent to the Arctic. Of course, the difference is that God knows my heart, whereas that wily Brer Fox did not know Brer Rabbit was born and bred in a briar patch.
Although it's only been a few weeks since my husband received a promotion...in Connecticut...it's hard to remember life before The Big News. I do seem to recall, however, a summer filled with furious and right-down-to-the-minute planning. In fact, there was so much planning, I had a few glimpses into the children's high school careers, still 4 years away. But, you know, best laid plans and all...
And I do recall the exact moment I received the news. It was an ordinary day where the only cares I had were to ensure the children got to church camp. (I didn't even have to worry about making sure they got home from camp as that was a carpool friend's worry.) And I needed to clean the house up a bit for the arrival of my friend whom I had gallantly offered to accompany to the Homeschool Expo.
I was making spaghetti sauce to throw into the crockpot when Mark called. "I need you to stop what you're doing and listen," he said. I knew he was in Connecticut at his company's headquarters, and as so many others are experiencing, I was expecting news of a lay-off. What I was NOT expecting was to be asked how I feel about living in Connecticut. Not that the whole wide world does not already know how I feel about living in a cold climate such as the one that Connecticut endures for a majority of the year.
Surprisingly, my immediate response was, "OK, let's move." I think the whole wide world also knows how I like to move and how I make off-handed remarks on vacations about wanting to live in the vacation spot of the year. In fact, I can recall uttering such words on my last visit to Connecticut.
Since then, life has been a whirlwind, and I still wake up many mornings remembering a wild dream I had in which our family was asked to relocate to a state not so far from Canada. That Homeschool Expo? It went well. I had a great time with my friend. Thankfully because of the Big News, I wasn't in the buying mood and spent only $25 the whole weekend. Oh, and that spaghetti sauce? It wasn't very good. My friend was polite enough to eat it anyway. And I started school, had 3 days of it, and then decided we would stop, regroup, and start over...in Connecticut.
I would say we've been working hard to pack, but we're moving in style this time. With movers. Never done it this way, but I'm afraid this experience is going to spoil me, and I'll never want to do it the old-fashioned way again. Yes, I've done some sorting, tossing, and giving away because, even though someone else is packing for me, I certainly don't need them packing all of this junk we've accumulated over the last 20 years.
Speaking of 20 years, I said to Mark the other day, "Do you realize if we stay in
the Arctic Connecticut as long as we've lived in Atlanta, Alex will be THIRTY?" That's weird.
There has also been a garage sale. And a family trip to Connecticut. But I'll save some of those details for another day. I only wanted to get back to recording our Chapters. I wasn't able to release this news on such a public forum until now because the Big News had not yet been announced to the company. And who knows? Some reader who makes up part of my HUGE audience may know someone who knows someone...it is a small world after all, a fact that makes me feel better as I get ready to say goodbye.
Although it's only been a few weeks since my husband received a promotion...in Connecticut...it's hard to remember life before The Big News. I do seem to recall, however, a summer filled with furious and right-down-to-the-minute planning. In fact, there was so much planning, I had a few glimpses into the children's high school careers, still 4 years away. But, you know, best laid plans and all...
And I do recall the exact moment I received the news. It was an ordinary day where the only cares I had were to ensure the children got to church camp. (I didn't even have to worry about making sure they got home from camp as that was a carpool friend's worry.) And I needed to clean the house up a bit for the arrival of my friend whom I had gallantly offered to accompany to the Homeschool Expo.
I was making spaghetti sauce to throw into the crockpot when Mark called. "I need you to stop what you're doing and listen," he said. I knew he was in Connecticut at his company's headquarters, and as so many others are experiencing, I was expecting news of a lay-off. What I was NOT expecting was to be asked how I feel about living in Connecticut. Not that the whole wide world does not already know how I feel about living in a cold climate such as the one that Connecticut endures for a majority of the year.
Surprisingly, my immediate response was, "OK, let's move." I think the whole wide world also knows how I like to move and how I make off-handed remarks on vacations about wanting to live in the vacation spot of the year. In fact, I can recall uttering such words on my last visit to Connecticut.
Since then, life has been a whirlwind, and I still wake up many mornings remembering a wild dream I had in which our family was asked to relocate to a state not so far from Canada. That Homeschool Expo? It went well. I had a great time with my friend. Thankfully because of the Big News, I wasn't in the buying mood and spent only $25 the whole weekend. Oh, and that spaghetti sauce? It wasn't very good. My friend was polite enough to eat it anyway. And I started school, had 3 days of it, and then decided we would stop, regroup, and start over...in Connecticut.
I would say we've been working hard to pack, but we're moving in style this time. With movers. Never done it this way, but I'm afraid this experience is going to spoil me, and I'll never want to do it the old-fashioned way again. Yes, I've done some sorting, tossing, and giving away because, even though someone else is packing for me, I certainly don't need them packing all of this junk we've accumulated over the last 20 years.
Speaking of 20 years, I said to Mark the other day, "Do you realize if we stay in
There has also been a garage sale. And a family trip to Connecticut. But I'll save some of those details for another day. I only wanted to get back to recording our Chapters. I wasn't able to release this news on such a public forum until now because the Big News had not yet been announced to the company. And who knows? Some reader who makes up part of my HUGE audience may know someone who knows someone...it is a small world after all, a fact that makes me feel better as I get ready to say goodbye.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)