quote for the week.

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; 

we must die to one life before we can enter another.  

~Anatole France

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I keep typing out posts, and blogger keeps eating them. It's getting quite frustrating. This post got eaten somewhere between pressing publish and view published post. So here's the cliff notes. 

We are going to be facing quite a few changes here. I'll share them with you soon, but not yet.



I try not to rush the seasons, I am very much aware at how quickly the years can speed by. I try to embrace and savor every season. The scents and sights, the flavors.


That's not always easy. I was cursing our long winter when it snowed (a lot!) on Mothers Day last year, but then soon whining about the heat during our very long and very hot summer. Often enough though, it seems the seasons begin to turn just as I'm longing for the next. When fall began this year, I couldn't imagine wanting it to end. I think the same thing every year, since autumn is by far my favorite time, but this year especially. I was dreading the inevitable and too quick return to winter. We have long winters.


Yet here I am with the last leaf having barely touched the ground, and I'm ready for the snow. I'm ready for snowstorms and sledding and hats and mittens and cocoa and woodstoves and cozy-ing under blankets and slowing down and the silence and calm that winter brings. 


This winter, I'm especially ready for the opportunity to slow down. To nap. To dream and plan. To get ready for all the seasons ahead.

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Life is what happens . . .

So. Didn't get the pajama pants or robes or blankets done. (surprised?)

My plan was to spend two Fridays ago getting a few Christmas projects knocked off my list. But Colin stayed home sick. So instead we spent the day making applesauce, snuggling, doing laundry, reading books. I squeezed in some time in the late evening to whip out a couple of quick flannel pillowcases though. I've been sewing for several years and have never made a pillowcase! Why? Soooo fun and easy. I'm hooked.

The change in my plans had me a little frustrated at first. Not just because I couldn't get done what I had planned, but because I had specifically and decidedly swore to myself that I was going to get it done. To stop my cycle of procrastination.

But, sometimes life is what happens instead. So I took some time. Slowed down. Got some other things done. And am back on track this week. I did take the time to pick up some supplies for a couple other projects - so that I'm ready, when I'm ready.

This weekend, there wasn't time either - since my uncle was in town staying with us - and my husbands band - Boots N Shorts had their CD release party

I found the time to be talked into doing something drastic (for me!) with my hair though.

GAH!

I know. That was just over a week ago. So it has faded quite a bit into a nice strawberry, coppery kind of shade.

I had bought a darker auburn dye to go over it because it was sooo intense and very "Look at me!"

It's been about a week, and it's faded nicely and I like the strawberry copper it's faded to. I don't know how to maintain this shade though - I've heard red is really hard to keep up. So we'll see.

It was not a color I would have chosen for myself. It's not a color I loved at first.

But, it was kind of a big deal for me. Yeah me - who used to switch hair colors on a practically monthly basis. Who went florescent pink in high school. Who used bleach - like actual Clorox - on my hair.

Since the birth of my youngest son, I've changed a little I think. I've matured. Grown up. Gotten a real job (sort of).  I've stopped taking risks - in even the safest of things - like hair color. For the last 6 years I haven't strayed too far extreme on either side of blond or brunette. For 6 years I've worn it long, usually straight, and parted down the middle.

Doing this shook things up a bit. It was refreshing. It was freeing. It was really, really nice to not feel so - muddy - anymore. It wasn't anything big. Just hair. Just a normal shade - a little bright. Very red. But normal. It was just - something - to do it though. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't been slightly coerced by my friend and husband. But I'm glad I did. Even if I don't keep it, it was fun to try. 

My plan (yeah, yeah, yeah) is to have some gift projects to share later this week! Hope your weekends were good ones and your holiday planning is moving along (better than mine!)

Bugs. eeeeeeeeeewwww.

We've got bugs. Lots of them. All over the woods and trees and side of the house. I've never seen them before, but I've never lived by the woods before. They look like this:

Only there's not one, oh no. There's like millions (I'm pretty sure that's not an exaggeration!)

Apparently they are box elder bugs. And apparently a lot of the trees behind us are elder trees. Sweet.

The good news is that they are harmless. Other than swarming disgustingly around my house and trying to break in to hang out for the winter (I'm reading about how they are sneaky little things and will just wander in through any itty bitty tiny crack or anything. Or on, you know the freaking wood we use to heat the house). And the other good news is (supposedly) you don't need pesticides to kill them. Just plain ol' soap and water. Yay! I'm not a huge bug killer, really. But I'm not a fan of swarmy creepy beetles in my bedroom either. So I'm soaping the suckers.

Looks like for the next couple of days I'll be ninja-ing around my house with a spray bottle full of dish soap. I'll sneak up on them before they can sneak in on me! Ha!

We're not in Kansas anymore

Or maybe we're somewhere more like Kansas. Actually we're just not in suburbia anymore. And that's becoming more and more clear! This next year or two will sure be interesting as we learn to adjust to a semi-rural kind of life! I hope you join us on the journey.

So far we have learned:

We were blissfully ignorant about our water usage. We also took for granted that it didn't smell. Now we collect rainwater and are learning to live with water that smells like sulfur though we're assured it's (just) iron. It's getting easier everyday, but it was a bit of a shock!

We know where all of our poop goes. I have to say - I never gave a whole lot of thought to that before.

We don't agree on outdoor projects. I want quick, easy, cheap and don't mind a homemade rustic look. He wants to DIY it too, but on a much grander scale.

Chopping down trees is fun.

Having a giant bonfire in your yard is pretty fantastic.

Watching the sun set over the hills is easily the best part of everyday (especially when you add a glass of wine in with it)

Sometimes old woods have interesting old things. Like well pumps and old stone foundations.

We don't know yet what is creepy and what is normal (but still pretty creepy): Like a stranger coming up to your door at 2:30 in the morning because he's running out of gas. My vote is for really creepy, but I'm being assured by several people that live in rural areas that while the timing is certainly odd, that strangers looking for gas is in fact, very normal.

I think I'm ready to get that dog we were talking about now. : /

And, I also realized today, that our new town has about 5000 people in it. In the whole town. My high school from the town we just moved from has 8000 students in it. That's right, there were more people in my high school than in my entire town now.

That's a thought to get used to!

School

Today we all woke up at 6 am to start our day. We moved about 2 weeks ago and today the kids start at their new school. At our old district they got picked up at about 9am. Here, it's 7:15. That's going to take some getting used to!

They were pretty excited - they're ready. Mama? Not so much. I mean, excited for them? Yes. But it's still hard letting your babies walk onto a bus full of strangers. I still have butterflies in my stomach and I'm anxious to see how their day went.

First grade and Sixth grade already. The years just speed right on by, don't they?

Taking the Leap

We're going to do it. Let go. Take the leap. Move out, move on, move in.

It's time, and we're ready.

Really, we can't let this opportunity go. Chances like this come once in a lifetime, if you're lucky.

I think it will be good for all of us. It won't be easy. We'll have to adjust. But in the end, I truly believe this will be good.

It's what I've always wanted but would have been too scared to choose on my own, without this :push:

I've never been good with change. I like familiarity. I like routine. I never knew this, or realized this, about myself until recently. But it's true.

And sometimes I almost need to be forced to change before I will. But I always adapt. I always find a way. Sometimes I find the way. I'm pretty sure this is one of those times. I am nervous. Apprehensive. But I know- I do- that this is right. I feel it, deep down, that this is the way to go.

We're still using words and phrases like "if this happens" and "if we choose this".




But we all know what we're really saying. We're not saying if. We're saying when.

Crossroads . . . ?

I've grown up in the suburbs. An area that I watched change from farms to a very busy suburb. But it's never been rural, really - as long as I've lived here.

My aunt and uncle and cousins live on a farm a few hours from us. I always loved going there. It was all so wonderful and exciting and different. I think their house is where my love and fascination of farmhouses came from. It was really an orchard, not an animal farm. Though there were ponies and peacocks. I was always in awe of those peacocks.

A red house, atop a dirt/gravel road. Tire swing in the front yard. I just loved it. I loved the land. I loved the smell. They lived only a few minutes outside a busy city, but it felt like a whole different world. And I never remember them, or us, ever being bored there. There was always something to find. Something to do.




But I always came home. To my little neighborhood. Where I could ride my bike with my friends. I would run out, dollar in hand every time I heard that familiar jingle of the ice cream truck.

I liked growing up there. I liked being close to the ever growing stores and restaurants and conveniences. I liked going to a high school with several thousand people.

Since I've been living on my own, I've moved several times, but I never left this town. My oldest son has been to 3 schools. He's 10. I alleviate my guilt about that by telling myself that at least we've stayed in the same district.

Where we live now isn't so bad. It's a little busy. We're about 5 minutes from a very developed road. But that means every store I could need 5 minutes away. We're in a small neighborhood, but bordering a couple larger ones, including the one I grew up in. Several mornings a week I go to these neighborhoods for a run. Almost every morning after the kids get on the bus, the husband and I bring our coffee and go for a walk in those neighborhoods. We can walk to the kids school.

We just moved here last year, and are renting from a family friend. My parents live about 20 minutes away. The husbands parents live about 5 minutes away.
There are some things I don't love. Like our postage stamp yard. The actual neighborhood where we live. And the fact that the woman who owns our house, wants to move back in next July. So no matter what, we have to be out by July 2010 the latest.

Almost every morning on our walks I complain about how I feel like I don't belong here anymore. Like it's become too stifling. There is no room to live and breathe and grow. And then I go on about my romanticized love affair with the country. And farms. And houses with big front porches and views.


Well, two days ago we were offered something amazing. I mean, once in a lifetime kind of amazing. This lovely couple we know wants us to have their house. Kind of. They are moving in with her mother soon (she's ill) and once she passes, they are moving to their vacation home full time. They are getting ready to put their current house on the market. This is a house that they raised their family in. A house they rebuilt themselves. They love it, but it's time for them to let it go.

For some reason, they really like us. And they asked if we would like to live in that house for the same (ridiculously low) rent that we pay now. And then when my husband is done with school in a year or so, we can buy it. For 40,000 less than the appraised price.

We're going to look at it this weekend. It's only maybe a half hour away. But it's pretty much a world away.

It's in the county. I mean, farms for neighbors. It has a cellar. A front porch with a view. It backs up to forever wild woods. It's really the deal of a lifetime.

But it means giving up the thrill of searching for our own house. It means asking my kids to give up afternoons playing with their friends until the sun is setting. It means asking them to give up riding bikes after school. Giving up chasing the ice-cream man. Giving up evening walks. Giving up their school we just moved to, the friends they just made and starting all over. Again.

It means going from a VERY large school district, to a VERY (very!) small one.

But it also means a different life. A slower one. It means bonfires. And big gardens. Fruit trees. A tire swing.


Then again, it also means now living almost an hour from my parents. A half hour from the in laws. No more quick trips to grandma and grandpas. No more last minute overnight babysitters. No more lingering over dinner and drinking wine till 10pm with our parents. It also means moving from my sister, the goddess of last minute babysitting help. And moving from our friends. Visits from and to them won't be as spontaneous. They'll have to be planned. We'll lose some time together, I think.

I'm so torn. It's kind of what I've wanted, for a long time. It's an amazing opportunity. But now that I'm looking at it, for real and not sometime in the future, but NOW- I'm apprehensive. I suddenly appreciate where I've lived my whole life. I've kind of found a new little love for it. I'm a little uncertain. And sad to give up what we have.

But I've never been good at change. This could be a good one. It will be different. Our lives will be different. But it could be good. Sometimes I feel like we are spinning out of control here. Maybe we could all use this.

We'll see.