Snow Envy

Yesterday when I awoke, I was hit with the realization that Late Fall had arrived.  The lawn had been drenched during the night, there was a rich, dewiness to everything.  The colors were more vibrant--or maybe more stark--I can't quite decide.  The leaves from the neighbors trees had cartwheeled across the lawn...  Finally relaxing into restful poses against anything upright.  Their rich, seasonal colors of gold and flame a contrast against the drab concrete and the mellow green of the grass.

And then I looked toward my former home...  The neighborhood upon the hilltop.  They had snow.  The first snow.  The best snow...  The earliest snow of each season is special.  It usually arrives stealthfully in the night.  The morning making its entrance with a surprising glistening on each surface outside our windows.  The first snow is usually early enough that the dazzling, autumnal colors of the trees seep through the translucent dusting to create a watercolor of muted tones.

I have to say, I'm not wishing for winter, not yet.  I have no desire for the hassles of bundling up in coats, mittens, hats, and scarves...  But still, there is nothing like that first dusting of early snow...  I can't wait for my first white morning surprise.  And I think it might be coming soon!

To Inquiring Minds...

I am happy to report that we have had no midnight marauders.  No wandering pee-ers.  No mysterious puddles.  This makes my mom very happy since we are staying in her home...  and her carpeting is very nice (and clean!).  Yay!

My Teen Redux--Sorta

It's always an interesting predicament to find your adult self back in your parents home.  It's happened to me briefly before, always as a temporary stop-over to a new landing place... The first time was when my ex-husband and I were in the middle of a military relocation...  (Ha ha...  you didn't even know there was an ex-husband, did you!?)  Later, I was in the process of re-labeling aforementioned man from Husband to Ex-Husband...  Both times, it was just a matter of months, but there is nothing like living in your childhood home to make you feel like you are reliving your teen years.  There's a certain feeling that you need to surrender your adulthood when you return to your parents home.

First, you are back in the territory dominated by your parents.  Always interesting when you have been queen of your own domain for a while.  There are the expected hours--to get up, to go to bed, to do assorted tasks...  There are the rules--don't leave that there, make your bed, put the dishes in the dishwasher.  Not that I wouldn't do those things anyway--but it's different when you're doing them because you are expected to, and not of your own accord.

And then there are all the old friends and neighbors...

Hello, Mrs. Quigley...  

How are you, Sister Day?  

Julie!  I haven't seen you since high school graduation!!! 

It's hard to be an adult in these situations...  You want to catch up with everyone, but how to do that?  You're not exactly the same person--circumstances and situations have invariably changed you (and the others, too).  You can't hang out in the bedroom with the stereo playing...  You can't stay out too late--that isn't exactly considerate to someone who is hosting you at their own inconvenience...  And yet, you want the opportunity to fill in the missing blanks in the lives of the people you have missed...

There are the familiar faces at church.  The same faces at the ball games (although those faces are now in the crowd, cheering their own children, and not on the playing field).  The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker...  It's all so familiar, and yet, it's all different.

Today, I find myself, once again, in my mom's domain.  We moved into my parents house nearly two weeks ago.  Our deadline for moving from our most recent home had arrived...  Unfortunately, our new home has not yet been completed.  **In fact, it is seriously behind schedule.**  So, here we are...  Not the young couple with the little baby...  Not the single mom...  No.  Our whole (rather over-sized) family.  That's two full-grown (theoretically) adults, a teen, The Buddies, and a dog.  This extreme multiplication in residency may prove to be challenging...  It's cozy, to say the least, but pleasant.

Besides the exponentially higher number of people, how is this  unifying-of-households different?  Well, for one thing, this isn't my childhood home.  My parents relocated (at my persistent urging) a few years ago.  It's been fabulous to have them so close...  And for this short-term tenancy, their relocation has been a blessing.  My children are able to stay in the same schools, see their usual friends, go to dance, soccer, and assorted activities...  Other than not having a bus--little has changed in their day-to-day lives.   But, the fact that this isn't the home of my childhood means that I don't know the neighbors.  I don't know the ladies at church.  I can't catch up with old friends...  And I'm not really feeling motivated to pursue new acquaintances because we won't be here very long...

So for me, life is in upheaval.  While I don't feel like I'm no longer a card-carrying member of the Adult Party, I do feel the sting of being The Secondary.  I miss my kitchen (not the physicality of it, just that it's mine--filled with my things).  I miss my brand of milk in the fridge.  I miss my collection of cookbooks.  I miss my high-capacity washer that can wash three sets of twin-sized sheets at once.  I miss knowing which channel shows my favorite TV shows.  I miss knowing where my stuff is...  Being able to find that shirt, those boots, this jacket...

But, really?  I can't complain.  My parents are Saints.  I do less cooking (mom and I are trying to share that responsibility).  Dad seems to enjoy spending time exercising Lola.  The Buddies love showing off their rapidly-improving reading skills to Grandma and Grandpa.  I have back-up chaperons, chauffeurs, and care-givers.  And best of all, I have about 4000 fewer square feet to clean!  Maybe we'll just stay here...

JUST KIDDING, MOM!  Don't have a heart attack!

Life here is rather pleasant, but I'm still looking forward to getting back to "normal" in our new home.

Pencil that in...

Announcement: We've moved... Again.

I know, I know... The last time we moved I announced that we'd never move again. I insisted that you could update your address book with ink. I told you it was unnecessary to pencil us in... We were staying put. We had arrived at our permanent address.

I lied.

So, here we are again. How many years was it this time? About four, and that is, perhaps, close to our record.

And now I will try to be perfectly honest. We've moved. Please pencil in our new address.

Thanks...