All the new things

We moved last weekend to our beautiful new house. Last Fri was quite the roller coaster. I met at 5:30am with my bootcamp gym crew for a final workout (yes I know it's ridiculous to put yourself through that much physical work the day before you move, but my brain needed the break). At noon (heh, I originally wrote newn) we headed up for the closing, only to be called by the seller asking if we were closing that day. Um, YES, wouldn't she like to come down to the lawyer's office to sign the papers? We sign a bazillion pieces of paper - I was glad when the stack was down to just an inch thick.

At about 11pm we were almost done boxing everything up when we ran out of boxes. Now, you all known my feelings about Wal-Mart (if you don't, just watch the Southpark episode about it and you'll understand). BUT, after last week I found WalMart is good for something - late night desperation shopping. I knew they restocked at night and hoped to find enough boxes to finish packing. I was overjoyed (and obviously exhausted) to find a plethora of broken-down boxes free for the taking in nearly every aisle. I knew we still had to pack up the entertainment center, so of course I found VCR boxes in the electronics section. I wheeled an overstuffed cart of boxes and a roll of packing tape back to the car and we finished packing in time to fall into bed before we had to get up again. The actual move went quite well. We had some great help, and 2 trips took care of it all.

I took the week off work to unpack and set up house, and I'm so glad I did. I had no idea being a housewife could be so exhausting! I looked forward to returning to work, so at least I could spend the day in the same place, rather than frantically trying to fulfill my list of errands before it expanded again. I remember asking at Target where the Home Depot was. "Do you know where Big Lots is?" No. "How about Burlington?" No. "Umm...I don't know how to tell you how to get there". Then I ask a woman in line, who says "Turn left out of here and you'll see it up ahead".

We do love our new house, and are amazed how much room we have, now that things like our shopvac are in the basement and not the linen closet. The dogs love their yard, although they're hysterically poor-footed on the wood flooring. It's been an adventure learning the area, where the stores are, etc. Ever notice how much more you find in a new grocery store that makes you go up and down every aisle? For instance, I never would've noticed this item in our old store:


Nom nom nom. Notice it's the SPICY flavor! And yes, I do use words like plethora in everyday speech.

The end is neigh

We're down to the final days of packing. It's not that we have *that* much stuff (HA!), the boxes just fill up too quickly. I don't see how I'm ever going to get all the dishes & clothes packed since I can't keep up with the laundry and dishwasher. And I just can't bear the thought of packing dirty laundry. I really want everything all boxed up so it's very streamlined when everyone comes over to tote boxes. Plus it's getting hard to find boxes anymore in town. Oh I'm sure I could buy some, but how does that compare to scrounging free ones that say things like "Chocolate Silken Decadence Tofu" on them?

Took Windy for our final run on the high trail yesterday morning. It was a beautiful sunrise and we both really enjoyed being out there. We crossed train tracks in 2 places and were heading up the switchback to a meadow that runs alongside the tracks when we heard the distant rumbling of an approaching train. We stood there a minute, Windy becoming more agitated as the sound grew louder, as I tried to calculate if we could make it back across the tracks before the train came. I knew from experience the 5:55am train is often quite long and that Windy really doesn't like being near it. I decided to go for it, and we broke into a sprint up the hill back towards the first railroad crossing. I focused on my running form and was pleased how good it felt. I turned my head occasionally to catch the sound of the train and could tell it was definitely getting closer but still safely distant when we crossed the tracks. I stopped at the base of the next hill and was walking so we could catch our breath (dogs don't like long unstopping sprints). But if we stopped there we'd be caught by the second set of tracks, and close enough to the train Windy might freak out. The sound of the train changed from the distant thunder rumble to a more distinct rumble-chug. I figured we had enough time to get across the next set of tracks only if we ran full out the entire way. I started running again, Windy keeping pace or lagging a bit behind. I kept calling to her to keep up, the train getting louder but still not visible. My energy was depleted and I would have stopped instantly if I'd had the choice. But we made it across the tracks and ran a bit further to the rise before gasping to a halt. I turned around to wave to the engineer and Windy's fur bristled and she clearly wanted to get away from the noise. My head was pounding and I felt weak from the extended speed work, but the rest of the trip seemed easy by comparison. Wonder if I can use this memory to boost speed work on normal days?

Well, best be off to pack another box!

Another reason I'm glad we're moving

I came home at lunchtime to let the dogs out and give them some lunch. When I pulled up there was a group of 6-8 men, all burly with close-cropped hair and wearing jeans with black T-shirts, standing in a tight cluster in front of the townhouse a few doors down. We all think a drug dealer lives there--they have skanky emaciated visitors who only stay a few minutes, and the cops are there weekly, sometimes in the middle of the night. These guys looked like they meant business, and I wondered if I was about to see a gang-style beat down. A few of them glanced sharply at me as I got out of the car, and I hurried inside, wondering if I should wait a while before letting the dogs out. Kayla didn't want to wait, and when I went back out they were all still there, fanned out in a semi-circle in front of the door. There was one major difference now that made me stop and gawk.

They all had on bullet-proof vests with ATF or POLICE emblazoned on the back in bright yellow. The front door was open and the ATF agent-in-charge was yelling at the guy inside to step out of the house. He repeated himself over and over with increasing force, enough that Kayla was startled out of peeing. The agent closest to the door aimed his gun inside and made a move like he was going to go in, although he stopped at the threshold. This apparently was enough for our neighbor to give in. He came out and was neatly handcuffed, stuffed in the car, and belted in. The agents & cops were looking inside the house and talking to each other, and I wondered if anyone else was home to be arrested. I would've loved to stay and watch the finale, but I had to dash back to work for a meeting. I thought for an instant about taking a photo of them in the stand-off position, but figured I didn't want them coming over to me for any reason.

Frankly it was really exciting to see a real-life COPS episode, and I was glad they finally caught that drug dealer. It wasn't until later that I realized it wasn't the local cops making the arrest, it was a freakin federal agency. What the hell! I live in a place where the ATF made a raid! Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys...

Waiting at the crossroads

In my quest to pack up as much as I can, I'm going through all my old stuff sorting it into keep-sell-donate piles. And I find myself spending quite a lot of time playing with all the things I've saved over the years. I still have my sticker album and spent a while looking through all the collected stickers from my childhood. I was amazed how many distinct memories the stickers brought up, and how oddly fun it is to peel them off their backing and stick them down somewhere. Can you still buy stickers? I may need to buy some more.

I also have my favorite kid book that I made my mom read me every single night. Over and over, until I had it memorized and knew if she tried to skip a page to shorten the agony of reading the same book yet again. I can still quote about the first two thirds of the book. Given that it's a progressive repeating book, that's saying a lot. I wonder if my parents still have it seared in their memories too. "Big. big brown. big brown bear. big brown bear blue bull. big brown bear blue bull beautiful baboon..."
I'm willing to bet money they do. Never did figure out why the baboon was dressed in a tutu and pointe shoes.

Wanna guess how long it took me to pack the box containing these items and the rest of that shelf? Good thing I have a month to go.

The first one

Check it out --I packed my first box to move to our new home! That's right, by this time next month we will be living in our own place. I know the month is going to pass in the blink of an eye, so I'm trying to casually do as much as possible ahead of time. Of course, looking around the house I'm amazed just how much stuff I use daily and can't box up. And again there's the question of where to put all these boxes, since boxed-up stuff takes up way more space than stuff on shelves. My winter clothes were an easy choice to pack, and it was a great feeling to write "basement" on the box. Finally we will have real storage space. I think we've spent more time planning the basement than we have about arranging all the other rooms combined.

More to come...