I just touched the one year mark of my move to Idaho. Hard to believe that much time has passed. I'm feeling pretty good about the transition to Boise. I love the climate, the people, the surrounding scenery. I'm enjoying exploring the local music scene and learning about various fun places to hang out.
After many corporate moves that kept shifting us to where ever my beloved's job told us we needed to be to suit their fickle company fancy, this is the first time in 30 years we were able to mindfully CHOOSE where we wanted to be. We took a mason jar ring and named it to be a 50 mile radius, then listed about 10 different factors we wanted within that space for our quality of life. We kept shifting our circle all over the western USA, considering several other places before landing here. However, after giving it lots of thought, Boise had all 10 things that were important to us. So, once we made our minds up that this was the place we just kept poking at it till we were able to find the job and the house to make the plan real. One year later I have absolutely no regrets about putting down roots here. I plan to burrow in deep. No more tumbleweed moving from place to place for me. I may not always live in my current house, but if I have anything to say about it, BOISE will stay my home.
I've finally found a place where I feel at peace, I feel connected. I generally believe that happiness and contentment come a lot more from INSIDE a person than whatever their external circumstances may be. Still, being in a place that FITS is a blessing indeed.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Can You Play "Name That Plant"??
IT'S OURS!
After much looking, debating and considering we finally found a house that met all the criteria we had hoped for that was within our budget. There are a few things I wish were different, but all in all, I'm really pleased with our choice.
The house is your basic late '70's 3 bedroom / 2 bath ranch. It's all on one floor so it is something we can comfortably grow old in. At just under 1800 sq feet it is way smaller than what I am used to, but has plenty of space to meet our needs.
The part that makes my heart sing is the yard:
It is truly sacred space that makes my spirit just feel absolutely at peace.
(We'll see if I'm still saying that after long days weeding and trimming all summer, and raking LOTS of leaves in the fall!) Yeah, it's going to take some care. But that's what I WANT. I spend way too much time inside staring at a computer screen. Dirt therapy is what makes me feel balanced, alive, whole. I LIKE working in the yard. This is a yard to really savor.
So one of my first orders of business is to get acquainted with everything...learn what is planted where and familiarize myself with what sort of care the various plants will need.
Some are things I've had in my other yards so I know them well: Bleeding Heart, Columbine, hostas, Allium, Blue Fescue, Ferns, Rhubarb, Periwinkle and lots more.
But there are also LOTS of plants I'm really not sure what are. In the coming days I'll be out in my yard with various garden books trying to identify them. For those I can't figure out, I'll post pictures and see if YOU know what they are!
I have much to do to get all our stuff moved here from Oregon and then get it sorted out and figure out where things go. Getting settled into a new place always takes a while. But anytime I get overwhelmed with the boxes, or anything else for that matter, you will know where you can find me. I'll be out in the backyard.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Idaho Days
Tomorrow my husband and I will sign papers for the loan on the house we will be buying in Boise. I am in awe of how well things seem to be working out since my move here to Idaho just a few weeks ago.
I'm starting to get a handle on the new job. The first two weeks were filled with angst as I struggled with the learning curve of totally unfamiliar tasks in a totally unfamiliar system. But somehow, magically, in week three it all just clicked and I seemed to find my rhythm.
There were many tears shed when I first parted from my dear husband and I wasn't sure how either one of us would handle living apart for the months it would be before he could join me here. But between weekend visits and talking on cell phone every night and morning, we've managed to stay close.
Now the key piece is falling into place best of all - we found just the right house in a great neighborhood. We like our new ward (church congregation). I'm learning my way around. There have been a few bumps here and there, but for the most part, it has been smoother than I would have ever anticipated.
After MONTHS of worry and struggle and wondering what was going to become of us, it seems we have landed in a very happy space.
I have no doubt there will be new struggles and adversities to face around the corner. After all, that's what life brings. But for right now I feel like I'm living happily ever after. For today, it feels really, really good to be a spud.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
SPUDLAND HERE I COME
The serious count down had begun. I leave for Idaho on Saturday. I am starting to get really excited!
One of the things I'm especially pleased about is that my new job will have me travelling all over the whole state. I've got a trip to Couer d'Alene planned for May 17. Then I go for meetings in Pocatello. In the coming months I will have an opportunity to get familiar with all segments of the great potato state.
One of my regrets about the eight years I've spent in Oregon is that there are so many amazing places here I never saw. Most of the time I was too busy working to do a lot of exploring. (Until the last 10 months which I spent in a frantic angst of looking for a job, not out seeing the sights.) When it came time for vacation I went off to places like Egypt, which was WONDERFUL....but I've still never been to Crater Lake. which I have heard is absolutely breathtaking.
So one of my resolutions as I go off to live in Idaho is to really try to take time to get familiar with the whole state. I want to learn some about Idaho State History, the topography of the the region, and other features about living in IDAHO.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Saying goodbye is hard to do
I am absolutely thrilled that I am about to embark on a whole new adventure. I am so ready for this impending move to Idaho. I honestly couldn't be more pleased.
That being said, I'm still struggling with the bittersweet nature of saying goodbye to people and places I care about here.
Yesterday I spent some time at Pioneer Park in Walla Walla, enjoying the majestic trees and the aviary there one last time. I went by St. Siloun church to bid farewell to the bells with many fond memories of friends I have of that congregation. I spent some time hiking up the creek at Harris Park. Then today I went to church at Pendleton 1st Ward one last time.
I could not help but weep at the sight of some of the dear friends I have there. I will miss them tremendously.
I know this move is right for me and I am confident things are moving forward exactly as they are supposed to. But the flip side of that old saying about how every time a door closes a window opens is that as this new window is opening in my life I must accept the closing of a door.
Life is a series of letting go.
Having moved about 28 times in my lifetime I've said more than my share of goodbyes over the years. Somehow, this does not get any easier with practice.
I would have made a lousy nomadic Bedouin.
My hope is that once I get to Spudland I can burrow in deep, like a tick on a dog's back - hold on tight and not let go. My soul is ever so weary of being in transit. I want a place to put down deep roots and call HOME.
But I'm kidding myself if I think anything will ever really be permanent.
We're all strangers traveling through this life. By definition mortality is a temporary sojourn.... so long as I live I suspect I'll always feel a little bit disconnected and homesick. No matter how much I appreciate each stop along the way and no matter how much I come to love the people I meet everywhere I land I've come to accept that at some point there is an inevitable letting go. I know that is as it should be. Still, today it makes me sad.
That being said, I'm still struggling with the bittersweet nature of saying goodbye to people and places I care about here.
Yesterday I spent some time at Pioneer Park in Walla Walla, enjoying the majestic trees and the aviary there one last time. I went by St. Siloun church to bid farewell to the bells with many fond memories of friends I have of that congregation. I spent some time hiking up the creek at Harris Park. Then today I went to church at Pendleton 1st Ward one last time.
I could not help but weep at the sight of some of the dear friends I have there. I will miss them tremendously.
I know this move is right for me and I am confident things are moving forward exactly as they are supposed to. But the flip side of that old saying about how every time a door closes a window opens is that as this new window is opening in my life I must accept the closing of a door.
Life is a series of letting go.
Having moved about 28 times in my lifetime I've said more than my share of goodbyes over the years. Somehow, this does not get any easier with practice.
I would have made a lousy nomadic Bedouin.
My hope is that once I get to Spudland I can burrow in deep, like a tick on a dog's back - hold on tight and not let go. My soul is ever so weary of being in transit. I want a place to put down deep roots and call HOME.
But I'm kidding myself if I think anything will ever really be permanent.
We're all strangers traveling through this life. By definition mortality is a temporary sojourn.... so long as I live I suspect I'll always feel a little bit disconnected and homesick. No matter how much I appreciate each stop along the way and no matter how much I come to love the people I meet everywhere I land I've come to accept that at some point there is an inevitable letting go. I know that is as it should be. Still, today it makes me sad.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Ambivalence & Grief
Next week I head up to Alaska for my final interview in Wasilla. Then it will be decision time - they will either offer it to me or they will not. I will either decide to take it or decide to pass. I honestly am not sure how I feel about that.
This evening I've been sorting through boxes in my closet to figure out what things I would move with me and what things I'd be willing to part with. I have boxes and boxes of STUFF - cards from old friends, concert ticket stubs, restaurant menus from past dates with my husband, pressed flowers from old gardens, brochures from museums, quotes that impressed me, and all the rest...the detritus of fifty plus years of living that I've clung to despite having moved time and time again.
Do I still keep holding on to all those tokens of times past or might it be time to let much of it go? Not sure. (part of that, I suspect, will be determined on whether the new company agrees to pay for the move.)
In one box I found several different cards wishing me well on the occasions of having left my various jobs. So many goodbyes have accumulated along the way of my vagabond life.
I understand the concept of looking on life as a glass half full, choosing to focus on the blessing of having known so many great people scattered across the country as I've criss crossed this land over the years. Most days I do feel quite privileged by the opportunities I have had to cross paths with so many dear folks from all walks of life. But tonight I am feeling the sharp sting of the loss of each of those sweet friendships and the bite of having had to say too many goodbyes.
While I DO look forward to the chance to take on this big adventure (I think), I feel pensive and sad over the prospect of once more being in a town where I have zero history or sense of belonging. I am more than a little intimidated about again having to start all over from scratch in establishing a social network of people to sweeten my life.
Because this particular job will put me back into a "boss" role at work I know I won't feel free to have the rich friendships at my workplace that I've had at some of my other jobs. I can get along great with others and build a strong sense of team. But being the boss means there will have to be boundaries that sometimes leave me feeling a bit isolated.
I expect I will meet people at my church and hopefully make some friends there. But even that can be difficult at times. I'm too liberal and unconventional for a lot of the church people I meet.. and yet too faith based and accepting of certain religious ideas and rules to fit in with the liberal, unconventional folks I know. So all too often I am stuck in the middle of no man's land, wondering if this is similar to what some bi-racial people experience, never completely fitting in either world.
I keep thinking of the people here who I have come to love so very much over the past eight years, and those who have proven their grit through layers of mutual support and shared challenges. I think of those who have fully accepted me despite our major differences in values and those who have shared of themselves over the years in truly significant ways. I am mindful of all I will be giving up to embrace this new adventure. I honestly believe that if we get the opportunity to go we should grab it. I am convinced that in many ways it will be an amazing experience that I will revel in with passion and fervor. But at the very same time, I know that saying goodbye to this place, these friends, the sense of connection and belonging that I have painstakingly woven here is going to break my heart.
There is no one sided penny. There is indeed opposition in all things. In coming days I will work hard to choose to focus on the good parts of this opportunity, should it open up to enfold me. But tonight I'm feeling the fear and the grief. Tonight I'm afraid that if they said "sorry, we pick someone else" I would simply give a huge sigh of relief.
We'll see what next week brings.
Most things in life get easier with practice. Repeating a thing over and over again usually brings increased levels of mastery. But not coping with grief. The aching stab of loss just gets compounded with practice. Every new loss seems to piggyback on the preceding separations, widening the cavern of emptiness all the more.
Whether we leave in the next couple months to head off to Alaska or wait till the fall and try again for Idaho I WILL eventually be leaving the life I have carved out for myself here in Eastern Oregon. Knowing that separation is absolutely coming with naked inevitability - whether sooner or later - has my heart wincing in anticipatory grief. All the positive parts of what come next simply cannot blot out the cost of the loss.
This evening I've been sorting through boxes in my closet to figure out what things I would move with me and what things I'd be willing to part with. I have boxes and boxes of STUFF - cards from old friends, concert ticket stubs, restaurant menus from past dates with my husband, pressed flowers from old gardens, brochures from museums, quotes that impressed me, and all the rest...the detritus of fifty plus years of living that I've clung to despite having moved time and time again.
Do I still keep holding on to all those tokens of times past or might it be time to let much of it go? Not sure. (part of that, I suspect, will be determined on whether the new company agrees to pay for the move.)
In one box I found several different cards wishing me well on the occasions of having left my various jobs. So many goodbyes have accumulated along the way of my vagabond life.
I understand the concept of looking on life as a glass half full, choosing to focus on the blessing of having known so many great people scattered across the country as I've criss crossed this land over the years. Most days I do feel quite privileged by the opportunities I have had to cross paths with so many dear folks from all walks of life. But tonight I am feeling the sharp sting of the loss of each of those sweet friendships and the bite of having had to say too many goodbyes.
While I DO look forward to the chance to take on this big adventure (I think), I feel pensive and sad over the prospect of once more being in a town where I have zero history or sense of belonging. I am more than a little intimidated about again having to start all over from scratch in establishing a social network of people to sweeten my life.
Because this particular job will put me back into a "boss" role at work I know I won't feel free to have the rich friendships at my workplace that I've had at some of my other jobs. I can get along great with others and build a strong sense of team. But being the boss means there will have to be boundaries that sometimes leave me feeling a bit isolated.
I expect I will meet people at my church and hopefully make some friends there. But even that can be difficult at times. I'm too liberal and unconventional for a lot of the church people I meet.. and yet too faith based and accepting of certain religious ideas and rules to fit in with the liberal, unconventional folks I know. So all too often I am stuck in the middle of no man's land, wondering if this is similar to what some bi-racial people experience, never completely fitting in either world.
I keep thinking of the people here who I have come to love so very much over the past eight years, and those who have proven their grit through layers of mutual support and shared challenges. I think of those who have fully accepted me despite our major differences in values and those who have shared of themselves over the years in truly significant ways. I am mindful of all I will be giving up to embrace this new adventure. I honestly believe that if we get the opportunity to go we should grab it. I am convinced that in many ways it will be an amazing experience that I will revel in with passion and fervor. But at the very same time, I know that saying goodbye to this place, these friends, the sense of connection and belonging that I have painstakingly woven here is going to break my heart.
There is no one sided penny. There is indeed opposition in all things. In coming days I will work hard to choose to focus on the good parts of this opportunity, should it open up to enfold me. But tonight I'm feeling the fear and the grief. Tonight I'm afraid that if they said "sorry, we pick someone else" I would simply give a huge sigh of relief.
We'll see what next week brings.
Most things in life get easier with practice. Repeating a thing over and over again usually brings increased levels of mastery. But not coping with grief. The aching stab of loss just gets compounded with practice. Every new loss seems to piggyback on the preceding separations, widening the cavern of emptiness all the more.
Whether we leave in the next couple months to head off to Alaska or wait till the fall and try again for Idaho I WILL eventually be leaving the life I have carved out for myself here in Eastern Oregon. Knowing that separation is absolutely coming with naked inevitability - whether sooner or later - has my heart wincing in anticipatory grief. All the positive parts of what come next simply cannot blot out the cost of the loss.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Bloom Where You Are Planted
For the past two or three months I've been applying for jobs like crazy with the goal to relocate closer to family. It's not that I don't like my current job. Actually, in a lot of ways it's a pretty good fit, even though it can be frustrating at times. (As all jobs are.) However, ever since we sold our house in January I've been anxious to get settled into a new place where I could put down roots and call it HOME.
Initially we were determined to return to my native state of Arizona. My beloved has three grown sons who live there (Mesa, Casa Grande and Maricopa) and I have a whole collection of friends and extended family who I would love to be able to see more regularly.
I applied for at least a dozen jobs, several which sounded PERFECT for my skill sets. None of them ever expressed even a nibble of interest.
So, finally, reluctantly, I gave up on the dream of AZ, accepting the fact that in our current economy it just isn't likely that I'm going to snag a job down there when there are literally THOUSANDS of people looking for work.
Next I set my sights on Idaho. Both my husband and I have siblings there. I also have a cousin and he has a niece and a nephew. We like the Boise area, and felt like that would be a good spot for us to end up. Again I threw my name out there for a few different job. Again nothing.
Then yesterday I got yet another "We don't pick you" letter for a job in Tri-Cities that I was SURE I would at least get an interview for. (That one did not have family, but was for a full time teaching job I had thought I had a shot at.)
So I'm letting of some dreams, accepting these are things I just don't get, at least not now. My days of working for a college may indeed be over. My chance to live close to my kin seems to have slipped through my grasp.
My emotions have tumbled all over the place about that.
On the positive side, my husband has a good job here with great benefits that we would not be able to replace if we moved. One of the perks of that job is the opportunity to live out here on the farm where we moved this past July. The down side of renting this old farmhouse is that it's not ours, so we can't do some of the things we would like. But the upside is that we get to live in a place so full of peace and beauty it really does make up for a lot. I do worry about where we will go once he retires, when we will no longer be able to stay here. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I really, REALLY like the congregation we are currently attending. We have developed friendships we care about. With the exception of this past winter which was just plain awful, we generally like the climate here.
There is much to be grateful for in our current circumstances. Still, this is NOT where either one of us ever wanted to land long term. This was supposed to be our transitional place for a short time while we made other plans. Now it's seeming more like that "temporary" transition is shifting to be something way different.
I come and go with being ok with that. I am truly grateful for the blessings I do have here. Still... I had so hoped to be able to begin our next chapter, to find a place of our choosing to settle in strong so we could be well established as we approach our old age.
I'm trying to wrap my mind around accepting that THIS s where I live and probably will be for years to come. In the words of John Lennon, life is what happens to you while making other plans. I'm trying to be more focused on where I AM instead of where I wanted to be. I am determined to bloom where I'm planted, even if it's not the pot I would prefer.
I'm trying to shift from disappointment to acceptance. I'm trying to put more energy into recognizing the good that I do have here, and less focus on the sting of what I wished for but did not get. It will come. I will bloom where I am planted. I'm determined to. But getting there will not be without some bumps.
Initially we were determined to return to my native state of Arizona. My beloved has three grown sons who live there (Mesa, Casa Grande and Maricopa) and I have a whole collection of friends and extended family who I would love to be able to see more regularly.
I applied for at least a dozen jobs, several which sounded PERFECT for my skill sets. None of them ever expressed even a nibble of interest.
So, finally, reluctantly, I gave up on the dream of AZ, accepting the fact that in our current economy it just isn't likely that I'm going to snag a job down there when there are literally THOUSANDS of people looking for work.
Next I set my sights on Idaho. Both my husband and I have siblings there. I also have a cousin and he has a niece and a nephew. We like the Boise area, and felt like that would be a good spot for us to end up. Again I threw my name out there for a few different job. Again nothing.
Then yesterday I got yet another "We don't pick you" letter for a job in Tri-Cities that I was SURE I would at least get an interview for. (That one did not have family, but was for a full time teaching job I had thought I had a shot at.)
So I'm letting of some dreams, accepting these are things I just don't get, at least not now. My days of working for a college may indeed be over. My chance to live close to my kin seems to have slipped through my grasp.
My emotions have tumbled all over the place about that.
On the positive side, my husband has a good job here with great benefits that we would not be able to replace if we moved. One of the perks of that job is the opportunity to live out here on the farm where we moved this past July. The down side of renting this old farmhouse is that it's not ours, so we can't do some of the things we would like. But the upside is that we get to live in a place so full of peace and beauty it really does make up for a lot. I do worry about where we will go once he retires, when we will no longer be able to stay here. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
I really, REALLY like the congregation we are currently attending. We have developed friendships we care about. With the exception of this past winter which was just plain awful, we generally like the climate here.
There is much to be grateful for in our current circumstances. Still, this is NOT where either one of us ever wanted to land long term. This was supposed to be our transitional place for a short time while we made other plans. Now it's seeming more like that "temporary" transition is shifting to be something way different.
I come and go with being ok with that. I am truly grateful for the blessings I do have here. Still... I had so hoped to be able to begin our next chapter, to find a place of our choosing to settle in strong so we could be well established as we approach our old age.
I'm trying to wrap my mind around accepting that THIS s where I live and probably will be for years to come. In the words of John Lennon, life is what happens to you while making other plans. I'm trying to be more focused on where I AM instead of where I wanted to be. I am determined to bloom where I'm planted, even if it's not the pot I would prefer.
I'm trying to shift from disappointment to acceptance. I'm trying to put more energy into recognizing the good that I do have here, and less focus on the sting of what I wished for but did not get. It will come. I will bloom where I am planted. I'm determined to. But getting there will not be without some bumps.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Cardboard Free Zone!
Tonight I finally got the rest of the kitchen entirely unpacked, scrubbed and settled. I'm sure I'll move things around several times still as I try to figure out where things go. But it feels SOOO good to be free from boxes in at least a few rooms now. The basement and my office upstairs are still a horrible catastrophe of cardboard. But at least our main living areas are clear now.
Not only is the place starting to look a lot better as I get more unpacked, it's SAFER to know where things are. The week we moved in I had a near disaster.
After a long day of hauling things up and down stairs we were tired and hungry. Somehow the box marked "Pans" got put someplace other than where it should have so it took half of forever to find stuff to cook with. FINALLY I was able to piece together some stuff and started cooking jambalaya. It smelled so yummy and I was REALLY hungry!
However, cooking here is very different from cooking at the former place. At my old house I had a glass top stove that regulated heat so it was almost impossible to burn things. At this house we have just a standard electric stove that heats up FAST and stays hot. So even though I didn't have the stove turned up all that high, the rice was starting to scorch to the bottom of the pan. I looked over at the chair next to the stove where the box with all the spices and syrups and other stuff that had been in the cupboard next to the stove in the old house was sitting. I saw a can of what I THOUGHT was cooking spray in the middle of the box so I grabbed it and sprayed it into the pan to keep my rice from sticking.
WARNING KIDS - DON'T SPRAY STUFF IN YOUR COOKING WITHOUT READING LABEL FIRST.
It was not cooking spray. It was heavy duty oven cleaner.
Um, yeah. Not good. Suffice it to say that it made one heck of a mess and our dinner was ruined. I was darn lucky the stuff didn't catch fire.
So we've had our moments with this move. There have been several incidents that have left us frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed or exasperated. Still, more and more each day I am all the more convinced that this deliberate downsizing was a wise move for us. Bit by bit this place will become HOME, even though it's not our house. I expect we'll live here about five years. After that, who knows?
For now, it's a fit.
Not only is the place starting to look a lot better as I get more unpacked, it's SAFER to know where things are. The week we moved in I had a near disaster.
After a long day of hauling things up and down stairs we were tired and hungry. Somehow the box marked "Pans" got put someplace other than where it should have so it took half of forever to find stuff to cook with. FINALLY I was able to piece together some stuff and started cooking jambalaya. It smelled so yummy and I was REALLY hungry!
However, cooking here is very different from cooking at the former place. At my old house I had a glass top stove that regulated heat so it was almost impossible to burn things. At this house we have just a standard electric stove that heats up FAST and stays hot. So even though I didn't have the stove turned up all that high, the rice was starting to scorch to the bottom of the pan. I looked over at the chair next to the stove where the box with all the spices and syrups and other stuff that had been in the cupboard next to the stove in the old house was sitting. I saw a can of what I THOUGHT was cooking spray in the middle of the box so I grabbed it and sprayed it into the pan to keep my rice from sticking.
WARNING KIDS - DON'T SPRAY STUFF IN YOUR COOKING WITHOUT READING LABEL FIRST.
It was not cooking spray. It was heavy duty oven cleaner.
Um, yeah. Not good. Suffice it to say that it made one heck of a mess and our dinner was ruined. I was darn lucky the stuff didn't catch fire.
So we've had our moments with this move. There have been several incidents that have left us frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed or exasperated. Still, more and more each day I am all the more convinced that this deliberate downsizing was a wise move for us. Bit by bit this place will become HOME, even though it's not our house. I expect we'll live here about five years. After that, who knows?
For now, it's a fit.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Some Thoughts About Renting...
After having been a home owner for over 25 years, the prospect of rejoining the ranks of renters has my head spinning with ambivalence. Over the next couple weeks I will be moving out of my home of the last six years and into an old farm house my beloved and I have decided to rent. For a lot of different reasons this move makes total sense. We've thought it out and done the math. Logic says go for it, and things seem to be falling into place as we have found someone who wants our house if they can qualify for financing. Still, my emotions are in turmoil about what it will mean to me to go back to renting a home that is not mine.
We've bought houses in Ohio, Michigan, Washington, and Oregon. They were never ours outright, as we always carried substantial mortgages on each one, never living long enough in any one place to get anywhere close to payoff. Still, we bought into the notion of those places being "OURS" because we had total freedom to choose what we did with them. We've painted and wallpapered, knocked out walls and built on new structures. We've landscaped and added water features. We've grown gardens and marked door jams as records of how tall our kids were getting. We've made every house we had HOME by virtue of how we shaped it.
I read in a book on home decorating recently "It is a proven fact that the more we personally participate in something, the more meaningful it becomes. Peter and I painted the inside of our house together, for example, and discovered that when you scrape, sand, and caulk and then prime and paint a surface of wood, you become attached to it the way new parents do with their newborn: You bond together in creating and understanding and appreciation. You take pride in what you do because you know what went into it, and you also feel the exhilaration of shared accomplishments." (from Creating a Beautiful Home by Alexandra Stoddard).
Those words definitely ring true for me. From the beat-up old fixer upper that was the first house we bought together in Ohio that had the horrific colors, fractured plumbing and dead bat in the bathtub, to our current home with it's 100 year old bones and gorgeous light, the projects we've done together on every house have been times we have truly cherished.
Now that we will be living in a rented house with limited options for making changes, we'll have to find different ways to make it feel like home.
Beyond that, I've been giving much thought to what "security" is and how financial commitments to property have defined for me what it meant to be stable and safe.
I am excited by the prospect of having complete freedom to go anywhere we may choose to visit or live over the next 10 years without being tied to any one specific geography. I kind of like the idea of spending six months to a year in a few different places as we explore all over the country before landing to put down roots again. My Gypsy soul eagerly pulls out the maps and fantasizes about spending time in Appalachia or New England or some small beach town or bayou retreat. Now, my husband loves the familiar, so it is highly unlikely we'll get quite that adventurous. But we COULD, and that freedom very much appeals to me.
I like the idea of paring down our possessions and opening up possibilities. I've seen so many friends and family members have to relinquish treasured homes in their later years, either due to failing health or changed finances. I know that if we stayed in our big two story house that eventually we would face that same challenge. I'd much rather let it go now while the move can be entirely on our own terms and of our own choosing.
STILL...the American Dream of owning a home is something I have been deeply socialized to believe in. Somehow "just renting" feels/sounds less stable, less secure, less successful than owning our own home. Why is that? Would I be okay with NOT buying another house? Would I be willing to accept my status as renter as permanent rather than a temporary transition? I'm not sure, but I suspect not. Right now I have ants in my pants and value freedom more than security. But I suspect that eventually that will run its course and we'll find ourselves looking to buy a house again. So we will need to be smart about how we handle our budget to make sure that remains within our reach when the time comes.
For today, however, I don't have to think about buying another house. Today my only challenge is to get ready to move out of this one. A big part of that means deciding what things we keep and what things we get rid of. We're selling our big screen TV, our King sized sleep number bed, our sectional furniture with the double recliners and hide-a-bed, the futon, and a whole lot more. We've given away loads of stuff and no doubt will hand over more to friends and charities. Piece by piece we are letting go of things we have have treasured but no longer choose to keep for one reason or another. Some of the choices are easy and some have had their sting, but overall it really feels good to lighten our load.
I love this link to pictures of HOUSES AROUND THE WORLD. Whether my next house when we are ready to leave the farm will be a sweet little gem of luxury or something very basic and bare...HOW I live is more important than WHERE I live or what I own.
Our capitalist culture is so tangled up in the false believe that our STUFF defines our value.
There is a 20 minute video called The Story of Stuff that serves as a powerful reminder that recreational consumption has its pitfalls.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not entirely renouncing all love of shiny things, I'm not about to take on vows of poverty or willfully choose the life of the ascetics. I do NOT see stark living as being any way morally superior to abundance. But I DO believe my own relationship with the material world is long overdue for a bit of a shake up. I want to be more mindful of the footprint I leave on this planet. This move feels like exactly the right step in that direction.
My heart has done flip flops of being apprehensive, anxious, filled with forboding about what we've taken on. But mostly I feel at peace about the decision.
So I am ready to let go of my hold on what I've defined as SAFE and SECURE and STABLE - being surrounded by a great many material things and locked into our commitment of home ownership. I am ready to embrace a new season of living more simply in a place that will not be my own. What will it take for me to feel AT HOME there? I don't know yet. But I am ready to explore and find out.
We've bought houses in Ohio, Michigan, Washington, and Oregon. They were never ours outright, as we always carried substantial mortgages on each one, never living long enough in any one place to get anywhere close to payoff. Still, we bought into the notion of those places being "OURS" because we had total freedom to choose what we did with them. We've painted and wallpapered, knocked out walls and built on new structures. We've landscaped and added water features. We've grown gardens and marked door jams as records of how tall our kids were getting. We've made every house we had HOME by virtue of how we shaped it.
I read in a book on home decorating recently "It is a proven fact that the more we personally participate in something, the more meaningful it becomes. Peter and I painted the inside of our house together, for example, and discovered that when you scrape, sand, and caulk and then prime and paint a surface of wood, you become attached to it the way new parents do with their newborn: You bond together in creating and understanding and appreciation. You take pride in what you do because you know what went into it, and you also feel the exhilaration of shared accomplishments." (from Creating a Beautiful Home by Alexandra Stoddard).
Those words definitely ring true for me. From the beat-up old fixer upper that was the first house we bought together in Ohio that had the horrific colors, fractured plumbing and dead bat in the bathtub, to our current home with it's 100 year old bones and gorgeous light, the projects we've done together on every house have been times we have truly cherished.
Now that we will be living in a rented house with limited options for making changes, we'll have to find different ways to make it feel like home.
Beyond that, I've been giving much thought to what "security" is and how financial commitments to property have defined for me what it meant to be stable and safe.
I am excited by the prospect of having complete freedom to go anywhere we may choose to visit or live over the next 10 years without being tied to any one specific geography. I kind of like the idea of spending six months to a year in a few different places as we explore all over the country before landing to put down roots again. My Gypsy soul eagerly pulls out the maps and fantasizes about spending time in Appalachia or New England or some small beach town or bayou retreat. Now, my husband loves the familiar, so it is highly unlikely we'll get quite that adventurous. But we COULD, and that freedom very much appeals to me.
I like the idea of paring down our possessions and opening up possibilities. I've seen so many friends and family members have to relinquish treasured homes in their later years, either due to failing health or changed finances. I know that if we stayed in our big two story house that eventually we would face that same challenge. I'd much rather let it go now while the move can be entirely on our own terms and of our own choosing.
STILL...the American Dream of owning a home is something I have been deeply socialized to believe in. Somehow "just renting" feels/sounds less stable, less secure, less successful than owning our own home. Why is that? Would I be okay with NOT buying another house? Would I be willing to accept my status as renter as permanent rather than a temporary transition? I'm not sure, but I suspect not. Right now I have ants in my pants and value freedom more than security. But I suspect that eventually that will run its course and we'll find ourselves looking to buy a house again. So we will need to be smart about how we handle our budget to make sure that remains within our reach when the time comes.
For today, however, I don't have to think about buying another house. Today my only challenge is to get ready to move out of this one. A big part of that means deciding what things we keep and what things we get rid of. We're selling our big screen TV, our King sized sleep number bed, our sectional furniture with the double recliners and hide-a-bed, the futon, and a whole lot more. We've given away loads of stuff and no doubt will hand over more to friends and charities. Piece by piece we are letting go of things we have have treasured but no longer choose to keep for one reason or another. Some of the choices are easy and some have had their sting, but overall it really feels good to lighten our load.
I love this link to pictures of HOUSES AROUND THE WORLD. Whether my next house when we are ready to leave the farm will be a sweet little gem of luxury or something very basic and bare...HOW I live is more important than WHERE I live or what I own.
Our capitalist culture is so tangled up in the false believe that our STUFF defines our value.
There is a 20 minute video called The Story of Stuff that serves as a powerful reminder that recreational consumption has its pitfalls.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not entirely renouncing all love of shiny things, I'm not about to take on vows of poverty or willfully choose the life of the ascetics. I do NOT see stark living as being any way morally superior to abundance. But I DO believe my own relationship with the material world is long overdue for a bit of a shake up. I want to be more mindful of the footprint I leave on this planet. This move feels like exactly the right step in that direction.
My heart has done flip flops of being apprehensive, anxious, filled with forboding about what we've taken on. But mostly I feel at peace about the decision.
So I am ready to let go of my hold on what I've defined as SAFE and SECURE and STABLE - being surrounded by a great many material things and locked into our commitment of home ownership. I am ready to embrace a new season of living more simply in a place that will not be my own. What will it take for me to feel AT HOME there? I don't know yet. But I am ready to explore and find out.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Why I Am Moving
I've spent the whole morning packing up boxes and cleaning out rooms. The move we have talked about for weeks is getting very real.
No telling when we will find a buyer for our house. But we've made up our minds we are really doing this. We are moving out now. I've had several people I know ask me why we are leaving. I figured this was as good a place as any to sort it out for myself. This posting is bound to be somewhat rambling and disjointed, because it's not intended as a clear explanation for anybody else. It's more my way of figuring it out in my own head.
I guess it all started last summer, when a dear friend of ours moved away. This was a lady in her late 70's who we had known through our church. She had lived in her home for over 40 years. But the children were grown and gone, and then her husband passed away. Increasingly it became apparent that she could no longer take care of their large, rambling home by herself, much less do the work required to maintain the yard. So, after much fretting and family discussion, she opted to sell the place and move into a nearby retirement community. For her, it was absolutely the right thing to do. She is very happy where she is now in her apartment, surrounded by just the few things she kept that she truly treasured. The process of getting her there, however, was excruciating.
Leaving that home that was filled with so many memories was very painful for her. She agonized over every dish, every knick knack, every piece of artwork, every marker of a life fully lived. She wanted to keep everything. Her well intentioned children and friends kept counseling her to let go. She felt pressured, cornered, losing her grasp. It hurt to watch. After much sorting out they finally held a big estate sell, laying out item gathered up over her whole life time for neighbors, strangers and friends to paw through and purchase. My dear friend watched this unfold with trembling grief.
I've been to my share of yard sales and usually enjoy rummaging through stacks to find that rare treasure. But at this one, I nearly burst into tears. I had visions of my own home being filled with strangers giving shrewed, evaluating looks at my priceless (to me) pretties - haggling down prices to a mere pittance for things that had been to me very dear. I could not stand the idea of it and knew I did not want to take that path.
I also recalled my own mother's house after her death. All five of us kids lived far away, so it took some negotiating and travel to get to the place to clean it all out. I swear, the woman must not have thrown a way a single thing in several decades. There were boxes upon boxes of stuff. Some things she had kept I could understand why she valued. But she also held onto things that were sheer junk. I think she was woman who got so overwhelmed by her life that it was difficult for her to make decisions. Rather than choose what to take care of and what to discard she would just toss it all in a box and say, in Scarlett O'Hara fashion, that she would think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow never came. The boxes piled up. In the end, she had rows upon rows of boxes that were a wild hodge podge. I sorted what I could, and then finally just started pitching it out - treasures and trash all mixed together. I vowed then and there my kids would never get stuck with a task of that scope when I died.
Still, over the years I have gathered my share of "stuff". While I have been considerably more organized and tidy than my mother, I have my share of boxes. Our current house has 2660 square feet and all three bedrooms have walk in closets. (Like 9 x 14 closets - as big as some people's bedrooms.) Somehow, having all that space has made it oh so easy to keep holding on to things I don't really need. It has been like wearing stretchy sweats and big T shirts for so long you don't really notice a few gained pounds. I had so much room for expansion of material objects that I just kept getting more. We've travelled a lot so I've picked up cool things here and there around the world. I have things people gave me. I have things my kids made. I have things I picked up at quaint little shops that just called out to me one day. I am surrounded by STUFF. A lot of it is very nice stuff. But most of it is stuff I do not need. Americans have a way of doing that.
Lately I have been very deliberately trying to clear out and downsize. But even though I have managed to get rid of A LOT, there are still way more material possessions than I want to hold on to. So that was one piece of it...wanting to make a change to a smaller place where we could keep things simple.
Then there is the whole issue of wanting to move to be closer to family. We've made the decision that once my beloved retires, this probably won't be the area where we will stay. We have family in Michigan and Arizona. If things work out the way we hope they will, we want to be snowbirds at some point. We'd like to split our time between the two places so that we can spend time with both branches of our family and avoid the extremes of climate in either direction.
We'd like to buy a small house in Michigan where we can be close to our 8 grandchildren. I want to go to their ball games and school programs, their birthday celebrations and special events. I want to have more of a role in their life than being the grandma who mails them cool care packages. I want to hold them and talk to them and take them geocaching. I want to exasperate them and endear them. I want to be a real part of their world. But I DON'T want to shovel snow with them in the winter. The idea of living in Michigan in the winter does not appeal to me. I did it for ten years and I've had all the brutal cold I want.
So from November to March every year we'd like to head out to Arizona where the other half of our brood is - my beloved's three son's from his first marriage.
There we could enjoy desert winters. We'd go hiking in canyons and fishing in creeks I remember from my youth. We'd visit with family and friends, keeping that part of our lives nurtured and well. We'd stay just long enough to see the lovely spring flowers erupt in wild color all over the desert. Then, before it got really hot, we'd head back north to our little house in the Midwest.
For the past several years I've taught college classes online. I have always had a full time job somewhere else and then done my adjunct teaching as something "extra" on the side. But I'd like to get to the point that I can forgo the day job and just do the online teaching. That way I won't be tied to any one geographic place. The online teaching will allow me to maintain my insurance and give just enough income that when combined with my husband's university pension and social security should allow us a modest living if we play our cards right. The idea is that by selling our house here and saving all our pennies for the next three to four years, we will have positioned ourselves to do just that. We will make our pipe-dream of snowbirding between Michigan and Arizona turn into a very realistic plan.
Then there is the dark side of the whole thing. My husband is getting old. Chronologically he's not exactly ancient. He's only 62. But in a lot of ways that are becoming increasingly noticeable, my sweet stud muffin of a husband is turning into a tired old man. That scares the dickens out of me.
He says, only half joking, that his warranty expired when he turned 60 yrs old. It was at that point that he started to have a variety of health issues. In the past year or two he has lost much of his energy and now is often in chronic pain from arthritis. He simply can no longer do some of the things we used to do together. We still have plenty of fun and some great adventures. But they are at a slower pace these days, and not the type that require as much physical exertion as things we took on in the past. These days, he needs more naps. I am beginning to see a foreshadow of a time in our lives when he will not be physically able to work. I am also recognizing that since I am 12 yrs his junior, there could well be an extended time in my life when he is not there at all.
I don't like to think about that. But the reality is, it's not only possible, it's down right likely. So I need to take steps NOW to prepare myself physically, financially, emotionally to be able to live my life well no matter what circumstances life may bring. If I have many years to work while caring for an old or infirm husband, I need to be ready to accept that. Or, if I have an extended period of time as a widow, as sad as that would be, I must have the resources and resolve and resilience to cross that bridge if I need to.
This big old house that we have now is beautiful. I love it very much. But it is NOT the house for us to be in for our old age. We want something smaller, simpler, all on one level. Granted, that phase of our life that would make it a necessity is still quite a ways down the road. But rather than wait for circumstances to force us to give up a house that we love but can no longer care for, I'd rather move out of it NOW when it is entirely my own choosing. I want to downsize and simplify while I can still call my own shots. I want to be the one that decides what gets kept and what gets tossed away. To do that, I have to begin while I still have the strength and the focus to pack and carry my own boxes.
So when this house out at the university farm that we are moving into became available, we jumped at it. It will be hard to go back to renting after over 20 yrs of having our own place. I like to do projects, to change and fix up and renovate. That won't be something I can do much of on someone else's property. But it's a sweet little house with a really great yard. And it happens to be where my husband works so he will have zero commute. With gas over $4.00 per gallon that is a very good thing. I'll still be driving to a job, of course. But I am well used to that. Depending on where my next job will be this move may have put us 10 miles closer or 10 miles further...but either way it will be a manageable thing.
Anyway, for all of these reasons and a few more, it just felt like the right time for us to make a change. The plan is that we will try to sell our house in Athena. But because the rent we will be paying out at the farm is absurdly low, even if we have to pay both house payments and rent for a year or more, we'd be ok. Obviously it will affect our budget, requiring us to cut back on extras like eating out or taking exotic vacations. But we won't have to worry about any immediate wolf at the door.
If the house sells sooner rather than later that would be great as it would give us one less thing to worry about and take care of. But either way, this move feels like the right thing to do.
We'll be living out in the middle of a wheat field in the middle of no where. The peace and the privacy are something I really look forward to. Since we'll be just 10 miles away from where we live now we can still come back easily enough to visit friends and I imagine there will be some of that. But I have moved enough times to know that there will be far less of that than I expect. People will move on with their busy lives. Once we don't have a common job or proximity of a neighborhood to bring us together, I suspect we'll see each other less and less. I'm ready to accept that.
Part of me is sad for all I'm giving up - my house, my neighbors, my congregation. (LDS churches are set by geographic boundaries, and my new house is over the line putting us into one of the Pendleton wards.) But I am also excited for the new chapter in my life that I am about to get started.
So time to get off my duff and get back to the business of packing and cleaning.
Ready or not, here I come.
No telling when we will find a buyer for our house. But we've made up our minds we are really doing this. We are moving out now. I've had several people I know ask me why we are leaving. I figured this was as good a place as any to sort it out for myself. This posting is bound to be somewhat rambling and disjointed, because it's not intended as a clear explanation for anybody else. It's more my way of figuring it out in my own head.
I guess it all started last summer, when a dear friend of ours moved away. This was a lady in her late 70's who we had known through our church. She had lived in her home for over 40 years. But the children were grown and gone, and then her husband passed away. Increasingly it became apparent that she could no longer take care of their large, rambling home by herself, much less do the work required to maintain the yard. So, after much fretting and family discussion, she opted to sell the place and move into a nearby retirement community. For her, it was absolutely the right thing to do. She is very happy where she is now in her apartment, surrounded by just the few things she kept that she truly treasured. The process of getting her there, however, was excruciating.
Leaving that home that was filled with so many memories was very painful for her. She agonized over every dish, every knick knack, every piece of artwork, every marker of a life fully lived. She wanted to keep everything. Her well intentioned children and friends kept counseling her to let go. She felt pressured, cornered, losing her grasp. It hurt to watch. After much sorting out they finally held a big estate sell, laying out item gathered up over her whole life time for neighbors, strangers and friends to paw through and purchase. My dear friend watched this unfold with trembling grief.
I've been to my share of yard sales and usually enjoy rummaging through stacks to find that rare treasure. But at this one, I nearly burst into tears. I had visions of my own home being filled with strangers giving shrewed, evaluating looks at my priceless (to me) pretties - haggling down prices to a mere pittance for things that had been to me very dear. I could not stand the idea of it and knew I did not want to take that path.
I also recalled my own mother's house after her death. All five of us kids lived far away, so it took some negotiating and travel to get to the place to clean it all out. I swear, the woman must not have thrown a way a single thing in several decades. There were boxes upon boxes of stuff. Some things she had kept I could understand why she valued. But she also held onto things that were sheer junk. I think she was woman who got so overwhelmed by her life that it was difficult for her to make decisions. Rather than choose what to take care of and what to discard she would just toss it all in a box and say, in Scarlett O'Hara fashion, that she would think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow never came. The boxes piled up. In the end, she had rows upon rows of boxes that were a wild hodge podge. I sorted what I could, and then finally just started pitching it out - treasures and trash all mixed together. I vowed then and there my kids would never get stuck with a task of that scope when I died.
Still, over the years I have gathered my share of "stuff". While I have been considerably more organized and tidy than my mother, I have my share of boxes. Our current house has 2660 square feet and all three bedrooms have walk in closets. (Like 9 x 14 closets - as big as some people's bedrooms.) Somehow, having all that space has made it oh so easy to keep holding on to things I don't really need. It has been like wearing stretchy sweats and big T shirts for so long you don't really notice a few gained pounds. I had so much room for expansion of material objects that I just kept getting more. We've travelled a lot so I've picked up cool things here and there around the world. I have things people gave me. I have things my kids made. I have things I picked up at quaint little shops that just called out to me one day. I am surrounded by STUFF. A lot of it is very nice stuff. But most of it is stuff I do not need. Americans have a way of doing that.
Lately I have been very deliberately trying to clear out and downsize. But even though I have managed to get rid of A LOT, there are still way more material possessions than I want to hold on to. So that was one piece of it...wanting to make a change to a smaller place where we could keep things simple.
Then there is the whole issue of wanting to move to be closer to family. We've made the decision that once my beloved retires, this probably won't be the area where we will stay. We have family in Michigan and Arizona. If things work out the way we hope they will, we want to be snowbirds at some point. We'd like to split our time between the two places so that we can spend time with both branches of our family and avoid the extremes of climate in either direction.
We'd like to buy a small house in Michigan where we can be close to our 8 grandchildren. I want to go to their ball games and school programs, their birthday celebrations and special events. I want to have more of a role in their life than being the grandma who mails them cool care packages. I want to hold them and talk to them and take them geocaching. I want to exasperate them and endear them. I want to be a real part of their world. But I DON'T want to shovel snow with them in the winter. The idea of living in Michigan in the winter does not appeal to me. I did it for ten years and I've had all the brutal cold I want.
So from November to March every year we'd like to head out to Arizona where the other half of our brood is - my beloved's three son's from his first marriage.
There we could enjoy desert winters. We'd go hiking in canyons and fishing in creeks I remember from my youth. We'd visit with family and friends, keeping that part of our lives nurtured and well. We'd stay just long enough to see the lovely spring flowers erupt in wild color all over the desert. Then, before it got really hot, we'd head back north to our little house in the Midwest.
For the past several years I've taught college classes online. I have always had a full time job somewhere else and then done my adjunct teaching as something "extra" on the side. But I'd like to get to the point that I can forgo the day job and just do the online teaching. That way I won't be tied to any one geographic place. The online teaching will allow me to maintain my insurance and give just enough income that when combined with my husband's university pension and social security should allow us a modest living if we play our cards right. The idea is that by selling our house here and saving all our pennies for the next three to four years, we will have positioned ourselves to do just that. We will make our pipe-dream of snowbirding between Michigan and Arizona turn into a very realistic plan.
Then there is the dark side of the whole thing. My husband is getting old. Chronologically he's not exactly ancient. He's only 62. But in a lot of ways that are becoming increasingly noticeable, my sweet stud muffin of a husband is turning into a tired old man. That scares the dickens out of me.
He says, only half joking, that his warranty expired when he turned 60 yrs old. It was at that point that he started to have a variety of health issues. In the past year or two he has lost much of his energy and now is often in chronic pain from arthritis. He simply can no longer do some of the things we used to do together. We still have plenty of fun and some great adventures. But they are at a slower pace these days, and not the type that require as much physical exertion as things we took on in the past. These days, he needs more naps. I am beginning to see a foreshadow of a time in our lives when he will not be physically able to work. I am also recognizing that since I am 12 yrs his junior, there could well be an extended time in my life when he is not there at all.
I don't like to think about that. But the reality is, it's not only possible, it's down right likely. So I need to take steps NOW to prepare myself physically, financially, emotionally to be able to live my life well no matter what circumstances life may bring. If I have many years to work while caring for an old or infirm husband, I need to be ready to accept that. Or, if I have an extended period of time as a widow, as sad as that would be, I must have the resources and resolve and resilience to cross that bridge if I need to.
This big old house that we have now is beautiful. I love it very much. But it is NOT the house for us to be in for our old age. We want something smaller, simpler, all on one level. Granted, that phase of our life that would make it a necessity is still quite a ways down the road. But rather than wait for circumstances to force us to give up a house that we love but can no longer care for, I'd rather move out of it NOW when it is entirely my own choosing. I want to downsize and simplify while I can still call my own shots. I want to be the one that decides what gets kept and what gets tossed away. To do that, I have to begin while I still have the strength and the focus to pack and carry my own boxes.
So when this house out at the university farm that we are moving into became available, we jumped at it. It will be hard to go back to renting after over 20 yrs of having our own place. I like to do projects, to change and fix up and renovate. That won't be something I can do much of on someone else's property. But it's a sweet little house with a really great yard. And it happens to be where my husband works so he will have zero commute. With gas over $4.00 per gallon that is a very good thing. I'll still be driving to a job, of course. But I am well used to that. Depending on where my next job will be this move may have put us 10 miles closer or 10 miles further...but either way it will be a manageable thing.
Anyway, for all of these reasons and a few more, it just felt like the right time for us to make a change. The plan is that we will try to sell our house in Athena. But because the rent we will be paying out at the farm is absurdly low, even if we have to pay both house payments and rent for a year or more, we'd be ok. Obviously it will affect our budget, requiring us to cut back on extras like eating out or taking exotic vacations. But we won't have to worry about any immediate wolf at the door.
If the house sells sooner rather than later that would be great as it would give us one less thing to worry about and take care of. But either way, this move feels like the right thing to do.
We'll be living out in the middle of a wheat field in the middle of no where. The peace and the privacy are something I really look forward to. Since we'll be just 10 miles away from where we live now we can still come back easily enough to visit friends and I imagine there will be some of that. But I have moved enough times to know that there will be far less of that than I expect. People will move on with their busy lives. Once we don't have a common job or proximity of a neighborhood to bring us together, I suspect we'll see each other less and less. I'm ready to accept that.
Part of me is sad for all I'm giving up - my house, my neighbors, my congregation. (LDS churches are set by geographic boundaries, and my new house is over the line putting us into one of the Pendleton wards.) But I am also excited for the new chapter in my life that I am about to get started.
So time to get off my duff and get back to the business of packing and cleaning.
Ready or not, here I come.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Beware of Lookie Loos
We have an appointment to show our house this evening. YIKES. Up until now the idea of selling our house was looming bigger and bigger, but now this feels awfully real. So I've been wiping off counters, plumping up pillows, sprucing up as best as I can. I'm well aware we may need to show it A LOT before we find that magic one who will take it. Still, every person who sees it brings us one step closer to having this house belong to someone else. My emotions are in a tailspin about that.
I LOVE this house. I have lots of misgivings about parting with it. My logical mind knows it's the smart thing to do. Time to downsize, to simplify. But my nesting soul has deep attachment here. This is NOT going to be a fun or easy process, this business of letting go.
We've found a house to rent and will be getting into it as soon as the owners replace the floor coverings. Once I'm no longer living in this house I think I'll be able to be way more objective. Right now, it doesn't feel like real estate. It feels like an extension of my heart. Whose idea was this anyway??
I LOVE this house. I have lots of misgivings about parting with it. My logical mind knows it's the smart thing to do. Time to downsize, to simplify. But my nesting soul has deep attachment here. This is NOT going to be a fun or easy process, this business of letting go.
We've found a house to rent and will be getting into it as soon as the owners replace the floor coverings. Once I'm no longer living in this house I think I'll be able to be way more objective. Right now, it doesn't feel like real estate. It feels like an extension of my heart. Whose idea was this anyway??
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
House Pictures
Here's a few more images of the house...mainly because I want to be able to look back at these and remember this place after it's no longer mine. We've lived in this house for six years and have really loved the place. I'll miss it. I know it is just a house - that HOME is something I create within me irrespective of any particular place. Still...so many special memories associated here.
The packing continues...where did I get all this STUFF???
Back View of House
Parlor
Family Room
Living Room
The packing continues...where did I get all this STUFF???
Back View of House
Parlor
Family Room
Living Room
Monday, May 19, 2008
FOR SALE BY OWNER
I've spent the evening filling out the paperwork to list our house for sale. It's not going to be easy to walk away from this place. The house was built in 1892. It has been gutted and completely remodeled so it truly has the best of both worlds - lots of quaint Victorian charm but all the modern amenities.Here is what my ad says: Historic country charm with many modern updates. Large rooms with 9 foot ceilings. Ceramic tile floors in kitchen and formal dining room - Kitchen has newer oak cabinets, lots of counter space. Glass top range and built in microwave, extra quiet Whirlpool dishwasher. Loads of storage - large pantry off the kitchen, "Harry Potter Room" under the stairs, plus a half basement. All 3 bedrooms have huge walk in closets. Master bedroom is 18' x 20' with vaulted ceiling and a balcony for enjoying quiet mornings. Wrap around porch with large extended deck area perfect for outdoor entertaining. Extensive landscaping with waterfall feature won "Yard of the Month" last year. Entire yard including garden area and porch hanging baskets on timed automatic sprinklers. 24' x 26' two car garage is fully insulated & finished - both doors have automatic openers. Both the garage and 10' x 12' pole barn storage shed have same vinyl siding and paint trim as house.
Athena is a clean, safe, friendly community with a population just over 1,000 people. Brand new library, lovely park with playground and public swimming pool, local grocery and gas station. Located half way between Walla Walla, WA and Pendleton, OR and just 60 miles from Tri-Cities. Enjoy the best of both worlds - live in a quiet rural community yet still be close to shopping, medical care, airport, university, college & community college resources, as well as a wide range of outdoor recreation. (skiing, fishing,boating, and much more.)
So if any of you dear readers know of anyone who might know someone who knows someone who wants to move to Oregon, let them know about it, ok?
Who knows? They say we are all just seven degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon. (I know someone who met him, so I guess I am only two degrees...that makes you THREE degrees from Kevin Bacon.) Maybe with a little blogger networking I can find just the right family to love my house as much as I have.
Hey, stranger things have happened!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
