transition

We have moved. Mostly.

There are still odds and ends left in the old house. Things the movers wouldn't touch. Every last one of my plants, indoors and out. Electronic equipment not packed in its original box. (Who does that?) Gasoline cans. The grill. All taboo items according to the moving company. Then, of course, the entire contents of the coat closet that I forgot to pack.

The kids and I spent part of yesterday carrying things to the new house in my car and in the back of my daughter's truck. I went alone yesterday morning. Just as I was pulling out of the subdivision, rain started to pour. And I mean pour. The kind of rain that makes you think perhaps you should pull off the road for a minute and wait for the deluge to pass.

The new house is a jumble of packed, partially unpacked, and empty boxes. We finally have television, telephone and internet. The weekend was very quiet without them. The new refrigerator has not arrived, so each time we want milk or ice or butter, we have to go out to the garage to the old refrigerator. I am questioning the wisdom of leaving the fridge in the garage while we don't have one in the house. It seemed like a good idea when hubby mentioned it, but in practice it is quite annoying and inconvenient.

The children have adjusted well. I can't say as much for the animals. On Friday the cats found the highest point in a back corner of the house and perched there all day. They were draped on top of each other, the way they used to always sleep when they were kittens. When I climbed up on a counter to try to pet them, Streudel hid behind Lucy and looked at me as if I were an alien. They have mostly gotten over it and have started eating normally again.

Jack is a bit lost. I think I am probably confusing him more by taking him back and forth with me every time I go to the old house. I don't want to crate him every trip we make, and leaving him loose in the new house is out of the question. There are too many lovely things to chew. He does love the old back yard with its big trees and grasses and flowers. As soon as I let him into the house, he runs directly to the back door and sits patiently waiting for the door to open. I think he misses the squirrels.

my luck is changing

Cold air in my Toyota for $50 less than the quote. Four perfectly inflated tires on my lovely daughter's truck. Jack is all better. Packed house. Perfect walk through. Completed closing. The movers will be here at 9:00 am on Friday. Sweet.

Murphy's Law

Moving preparations are going extremely well. I have been pleasantly surprised at the level of my children's packing competence. Granted, we just did this ten months ago, but I remember doing much more of it myself last time. The living room is so full of boxes that only a path in front of and behind the seating is still passable. The walls are bare and the windows are down to the blinds and curtain rods that were already hanging when we moved in. Even the garage is ready. So, of course, something else had to go wrong.

Driving along the turnpike a few days ago with the air conditioner full blast to combat stifling heat and humidity in this suddenly seasonable Oklahoma July, we smelled smoke. The kind of smoke that comes from mechanical failure.

I drive a Toyota Avalon that came equipped with a climate control system. Not one light will come on. The heater won't work. Not that we really want it to. The fan won't blow, not even hot air. The outside temperature display no longer works. It's not that it is registering zero, or even the wrong temperature. It is completely blank. In other words, complete and utter failure of the climate control system.

The garage called yesterday to say that the compressor failed internally causing the entire climate control system to lose power. We need to replace the compressor and the dryer thingy. At the bargain price of $800. Of course it's no longer under warranty.

Hubby went off to work in our lovely VW Passat with perfectly functioning air conditioner. That leaves us with only daughter's truck for transport. The air is nice and cold. However, it seats three. There are four of us left in the house. Of course.

I walked out this morning with keys and purse in hand to run out for a gallon of milk for breakfast. What I found was a flat tire. Completely flat. I guess it no longer matters that the truck only seats three as it is now useless to me. The kids can have juice for breakfast. Or water. Or soda. I frankly do not care as long as they stay out of the gin and the wine. I am reserving those for myself.

The good news is the Toyota will be ready this afternoon. Thank the Lord for small favors.

moving toward home

It is pouring rain this morning and the house is dark and quiet. The children are still sleeping at five minutes until 9:00am. I know I should wake them but frankly I am enjoying the solitude. We are supposed to pack their rooms today. In about a week we'll move. We are nowhere near ready for the moving vans to arrive. I confess that I have never been ready for the moving vans until the night before they arrive. Well, once I was. But that was due to the fact that it was a corporate move and the moving guys did all the packing as well as the loading and unloading. All I had to do was make sure the house was neat, pick up the baby, and get out of the way. That was many years ago, the baby was my almost grown daughter, and I have forgotten completely what it was like to have the luxury of someone else packing up my belongings.

I remember all too clearly our move last year. It was really a chore. We had lived in the same home for twelve years. It was a three bedroom, two bath, two car garage house on a corner lot and it was filled to the brim with all of those important and not so important things a family collects over time. We had a big garage sale and I still had to box things up and move them out just to put the house on the real estate market.

Before we knew we'd have to move away from home, we had started looking for a larger house, something bigger with another bedroom in our same school district. I knew we needed more space but I don't think I realized just how small our house was until we moved into this one. There is so much space here that I felt a bit lost at first. In fact, I missed my little gray house. I missed my beautiful soaking tub that sat under a skylight in redwood decking. I missed the vaulted ceilings and the natural light that filled the house. I missed the walls I had stripped and painted and papered, the woodwork I had stained, the tile floors my husband had painstakingly laid. Oddly enough I missed the intimacy of the smaller space. I missed lying in bed and hearing my boys murmur to each other across the hallway.

I think what I missed most of all was the feeling that the little gray house was my home. This house is not my home. It is roomy and has storage to die for, but it isn't mine. I can't change the fixtures or the wallpaper in the extra bathroom or the carpet. I can't rip out the horrible bushes the homeowner didn't tend for years. I can't change the kitchen counters or tear out the wall between the laundry room and the half bath to make it big enough to turn around in. I have wanted to do each of those things since the moment we moved in.

I am not looking forward to the logistics of moving. I most definitely am not interested in packing or unpacking. I don't want to get the kids up and make them work the next week of their summer away. But when it's all over and I am sitting in a house full of boxes waiting to be emptied, I know I will feel happier, more content. We bought a house. And once again, I'll have a place to call my own.

a place to call home

We are buying a home.

I'm still a little shocked by the whole thing. All the rentals were too small, not right, or just really horrible. As I complained about them, hubby would nod his head and tell me to buy something. The next day, I would look for more rentals. This has gone on for a good month and a half, maybe more.

I bought a copy of the local newspaper this week. I read through the rentals, found nothing new to look at and began reading the ads for home sales. I'm not really sure why when I had been so dead set against it just a few weeks ago. Perhaps it was my husband's voice in my ear. Or maybe it was the fear of being made to move again. Whatever the reason, I picked up the phone and called on a home.

In the past we've always gone for twenty or thirty year old neighborhoods, the kind with sprawling houses and enormous trees. This home is brand new but the neighborhood is a bit rural. The homes in the front of the addition were built as long as fifteen years ago. The lots are large and the streets are wide. Trees have been saved throughout the neighborhood during construction, so the landscape isn't barren and treeless. It's really quite lovely.

The home is beautiful. I especially love the kitchen. The cabinets are a lovely medium dark oak and the countertops are granite. There is an island in the middle, a six burner gas stovetop, a built in microwave and double convection ovens. There are tile and wood floors as well as carpeting. The master bath has a whirlpool tub that I can hardly wait to get into. I am in heaven. The kids have laid claim to bedrooms, tried out the computer nook, and laid on their backs in the empty living room floor. The boys have scoped out a treed area for their 'secret hideout'. I think they'll be happy with their new home.

There are details to work out. The home still has to be inspected. There are odds and ends to be addressed. But barring catastrophe, I think my search is over. And in the process, every member of our family has committed to living in Edmond. Wonders will never cease. Now I just have to pack.

driver education (the practical kind)

My lovely daughter has been scaring the bejeezus out of us.

Daddy thought it would be a smart and grandfatherly thing to give her a vehicle for her sweet sixteen. He decided on a pick-up truck. It was just sitting around one of the farms and was not really much the worse for wear. Rather large, though. She is delighted with it.

I have cleaned it, washed it, buffed it and made sure it's full of oil and gas and antifreeze. I bought her an FM transmitter in order to run her mp3 player through the stereo. As Daddy would say, she's in tall cotton.

Having a child drive is really a terrifying business. Riding with her is nerve wracking and I make her quite nervous. Letting her go out alone is bone chilling.

Two nights ago she went to a friend's house to watch movies and listen to records. Believe it or not, she isn't the only 16 year old in town with a turntable. But I digress. There is an 11pm curfew for teenagers. It was the first time she drove in the dark. She could not find the switch for the headlights. Her friends could not find the switch for the headlights. (I am wondering about their collective common sense.) She drove home SANS HEADLIGHTS while her friend followed to be sure she made it. Her father made enormous noise about this. I am quite sure she won't do it again. Of course, it never occurred to me that she would do it once.

A couple of days ago I noticed one of her tires was a bit low. I put air into the tire with hubby's handy air compressor and told her to watch the tire in case it went flat. Yesterday she made two trips to the library, apparently without ever checking the tire. It was flat as a pancake this morning, and I feared it was ruined just from the way it looked. I made a quick trip for a can of fix-a-flat, put air into the tire, and woke her up at an unreasonable hour to drive to the tire store. They just called to say the tire was not ruined and the flat is fixed. She is a lucky girl. Her father would have had a field day with this one.

I think I'll just lecture her myself. And continue to pray.

in limbo

I spent the morning driving around town looking at rental properties. I have to say that it's a very depressing thing to do. I walked through empty, dark, dirty houses with unkempt lawns. Assurances that the carpet will be cleaned and the lawns mown did little to brighten my mood. I found one that will do.

I have more houses to see today. A couple of the brokers I contacted have expressed interest in purchasing this home we're in and letting us stay on as tenants. That would be the answer to my prayers.

My daughter passed her driver's test this week and has begun driving on her own. It's an odd feeling. I am happy for her but I am terrified. I'm sure it's a common reaction.

My middle son has been gone all week. My house is quiet and my younger son hasn't yelled, screamed or cried once since the older one has been gone. I feel a bit guilty that I am enjoying the peace of his absence.