We've been in Michigan about 10 days now. We've seen none of the much anticipated snow. Unless you count the dirty drifts at the side of the road that my sons climbed all over for a few days until the warm weather and torrential downpour melted them away.
But back in Fairyland, they got a foot of snow a few days after we left. Just our luck (the kind of luck is all in your perspective).
For all those dying for an update: We're here. We're alive. We're living out of suitcases.
It's all good. The cute farmhouse where we'll be living is in the midst of a serious interior facelift. My husband's employer is bending over backwards to welcome us and make us at home. They are painting and recarpeting the entire interior and essentially remodeling the bathroom. We even got to select carpet, paint and a fridge. Have I mentioned lately how overrated homeownership is? Employer provided housing is the way to go.
In the meantime, we're living in our suitcases (not literally) in a "cottage" (fully furnished 3-bedroom house on the lake) down the road. Not bad for interim housing.
So, as we go about the business of changing our lives (insurance, licenses, traffic tickets, schools and library cards), Matt and I fight over the laptop and I seem to fall farther and farther behind on my blog. For that I apologize.
All our earthly possessions currently reside in a truck in the driveway and we should be able to unload in about another 10 days. I'll let you know how it goes--maybe I'll even post some pictures.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Nicaragua
As we were packing up the house, I got a phone call. A nice woman explained that her son was in my son's kindergarten class and they had been meaning for some time to call us and get the boys together to play.
But alas, she explained, last week her son came home from school and announced that Ethan is moving to Nicaragua.
She of course wanted to call and get the full scoop and our address so they can be pen pals. He's already sent us a letter here. Do you think he'll feel betrayed when Ethan's letter arrives from Michigan?
But alas, she explained, last week her son came home from school and announced that Ethan is moving to Nicaragua.
She of course wanted to call and get the full scoop and our address so they can be pen pals. He's already sent us a letter here. Do you think he'll feel betrayed when Ethan's letter arrives from Michigan?
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Are We There Yet?
I see boxes in my sleep.
I see boxes shoulder deep.
Boxes, boxes big and small.
Boxes, boxes I hate you all.
I see boxes shoulder deep.
Boxes, boxes big and small.
Boxes, boxes I hate you all.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Method In My Madness
Alrighty, since everyone keeps asking for more detail on the whole Michigan thing, here it is--for those of you who are interested. For those who aren't, don't bother reading further--suffice it to say, we're moving. We've only been here in FairyLand two years, and had planned on being around at least one more. But as you may know, life doesn't always go as planned.
My missionary trainer once said that as long as you know where the airport is and have the financial means to get yourself a ticket home, you're here of your own free will. I like to think the same thing about jobs--you have to have a finger, even lightly, on the pulse of the industry--just so you know whether there is something out there that would be a better fit, or better opportunity. That way, you know you're happy where you are. And, when the perfect opportunity presents itself, you don't miss it. So, we keep an eye on camp jobs elsewhere. We've discussed the key elements we'd want in the next place we go and everything we've happened across, we've weighed it against those key elements. Very few opportunities have met all or even most of our criteria, so we've continued on, content where we are. Until . . .
There came a job opportunity, that no matter how we dismissed it as unfeasible and not the right timing, it kept popping back into our frame of reference. So, we looked into it and found that surprisingly, it met most of our criteria, and the more we learned about it, the more attractive it became. So, we figured, what the heck, it can't hurt to apply.
We applied, and tried to forget about it. Then, while at the inauguration in DC a couple of weeks ago, Matt gets a call. After a phone interview, he's asked to come out and visit the camp in Michigan. He decides to go, thinking that he can really give the place a once over and determine if we'd even seriously consider going there, and they could think about whether they even liked him.
The liked him. They really liked him. And he liked the camp. Everything about it just seemed right. They offered him the job before he left. So, it suddenly became an opportunity that we just couldn't pass up.
It's a bittersweet time here in FairyLand. We're sad to leave, but excited for the great opportunity. Matt will be the Senior Program Director another camp in Southern Michigan. This basically means he's still running summer camp, but with a few other things thrown in and a few things he does here taken out. Let me list just some of the positives that weighed into our decision:
1) A pay raise (um, like 33%)
2) Health insurance is less than half what we pay now.
3) Housing and meals are still included, but the house will be much larger and nicer than our cozy cottage.
4) School is 5 minutes away!!!!!
5) We'll be 30 minutes from an actual Ward (read, larger congregation) in the Church
6) Free high speed internet (I can keep my day job!)
7) Matt has to go to Spain (bummer)
8) Matt gets to focus on programming, not paperwork (they have people that do that for him).
9)With a school 5 minutes away, there are bound to be children around for the boys to play with.
10) Detroit is a bit more accessible and affordable to fly to from Utah (this makes for a happier grandma).
11) The temple is 90 minutes away instead of 3 hours.
12) The boys are excited for snow.
13) Did I mention school is 5 minutes away?
14) Did I mention Grandma has already purchased her plane ticket?
I could go on, but you can see, it's really a much better situation for the whole family. So, we'll keep you posted, but think nice thoughts of our crazy little ragtag family on the road to Michigan!
My missionary trainer once said that as long as you know where the airport is and have the financial means to get yourself a ticket home, you're here of your own free will. I like to think the same thing about jobs--you have to have a finger, even lightly, on the pulse of the industry--just so you know whether there is something out there that would be a better fit, or better opportunity. That way, you know you're happy where you are. And, when the perfect opportunity presents itself, you don't miss it. So, we keep an eye on camp jobs elsewhere. We've discussed the key elements we'd want in the next place we go and everything we've happened across, we've weighed it against those key elements. Very few opportunities have met all or even most of our criteria, so we've continued on, content where we are. Until . . .
There came a job opportunity, that no matter how we dismissed it as unfeasible and not the right timing, it kept popping back into our frame of reference. So, we looked into it and found that surprisingly, it met most of our criteria, and the more we learned about it, the more attractive it became. So, we figured, what the heck, it can't hurt to apply.
We applied, and tried to forget about it. Then, while at the inauguration in DC a couple of weeks ago, Matt gets a call. After a phone interview, he's asked to come out and visit the camp in Michigan. He decides to go, thinking that he can really give the place a once over and determine if we'd even seriously consider going there, and they could think about whether they even liked him.
The liked him. They really liked him. And he liked the camp. Everything about it just seemed right. They offered him the job before he left. So, it suddenly became an opportunity that we just couldn't pass up.
It's a bittersweet time here in FairyLand. We're sad to leave, but excited for the great opportunity. Matt will be the Senior Program Director another camp in Southern Michigan. This basically means he's still running summer camp, but with a few other things thrown in and a few things he does here taken out. Let me list just some of the positives that weighed into our decision:
1) A pay raise (um, like 33%)
2) Health insurance is less than half what we pay now.
3) Housing and meals are still included, but the house will be much larger and nicer than our cozy cottage.
4) School is 5 minutes away!!!!!
5) We'll be 30 minutes from an actual Ward (read, larger congregation) in the Church
6) Free high speed internet (I can keep my day job!)
7) Matt has to go to Spain (bummer)
8) Matt gets to focus on programming, not paperwork (they have people that do that for him).
9)With a school 5 minutes away, there are bound to be children around for the boys to play with.
10) Detroit is a bit more accessible and affordable to fly to from Utah (this makes for a happier grandma).
11) The temple is 90 minutes away instead of 3 hours.
12) The boys are excited for snow.
13) Did I mention school is 5 minutes away?
14) Did I mention Grandma has already purchased her plane ticket?
I could go on, but you can see, it's really a much better situation for the whole family. So, we'll keep you posted, but think nice thoughts of our crazy little ragtag family on the road to Michigan!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Missing in Michigan
The cat has officially left the bag as it were. We're moving to the Arctic Tundra. So, in honor of FairyLand, I'd like to make note of all the things I will and will not miss when we move. Feel free to walk down my blog memory lane if you'd like by following the links.
Of course I will miss the blue fairies. There may be fairies where I am going, but this particular fairy is only found here in FairyLand.
I will miss the waterfalls. I'll miss laying in bed with the windows open in the summer, listening to the waterfall. Though I am moving to a land of hills, I seriously doubt they have waterfalls like this, or this.
Speaking of falls, I will miss Fall. I have never and will likely never again experience anything like this again.
The Orchestra. I know I lamented it, but it really was good for me to pick up the old violin again and give it a go. Maybe I'll find another group to play with.
The mushrooms.
InkMom. I'll miss having her wedge me into her packed schedule. I'll miss the wolf-pack of boys when we get together. I'll miss intelligent conversation (there is the phone, but it's just not the same). I cannot even express my sadness at leaving my dear friend. (Though I seem to go through this with a friend or two wherever I go--you think I'd learn not to make friends). But I'll still read her blog.
I may even miss the Eco-Hippies (though I imagine they're in the Arctic as well).
I'll miss the South, and the dialect here--a little bit.
I'll miss Falls Park.
I'll miss the beach (granted, we only went once, but I'll miss knowing that I could drive to the ocean in under 5 hours).
I'll miss these beautiful mountains.
On the flip side . . .
I will not miss my Orchestra Librarian duties. I have learned my lesson and will not volunteer for such a thing again until I am very old and very bored.
I will not miss driving 30 minutes to kindergarten.
I will not miss the Neo-Hippies (the ultra-left-wing-evangelical wing of the Eco-Hippie movement).
I will not miss my church calling. Sorry, but I won't. (Please don't let this curse me.)
I will not miss hauling my own trash--though I don't know if I'll have to do it up North, but I'm pretending.
I will not miss the Harleys. Not even a little bit.
Of course I will miss the blue fairies. There may be fairies where I am going, but this particular fairy is only found here in FairyLand.
I will miss the waterfalls. I'll miss laying in bed with the windows open in the summer, listening to the waterfall. Though I am moving to a land of hills, I seriously doubt they have waterfalls like this, or this.
Speaking of falls, I will miss Fall. I have never and will likely never again experience anything like this again.
The Orchestra. I know I lamented it, but it really was good for me to pick up the old violin again and give it a go. Maybe I'll find another group to play with.
The mushrooms.
InkMom. I'll miss having her wedge me into her packed schedule. I'll miss the wolf-pack of boys when we get together. I'll miss intelligent conversation (there is the phone, but it's just not the same). I cannot even express my sadness at leaving my dear friend. (Though I seem to go through this with a friend or two wherever I go--you think I'd learn not to make friends). But I'll still read her blog.
I may even miss the Eco-Hippies (though I imagine they're in the Arctic as well).
I'll miss the South, and the dialect here--a little bit.
I'll miss Falls Park.
I'll miss the beach (granted, we only went once, but I'll miss knowing that I could drive to the ocean in under 5 hours).
I'll miss these beautiful mountains.
On the flip side . . .
I will not miss my Orchestra Librarian duties. I have learned my lesson and will not volunteer for such a thing again until I am very old and very bored.
I will not miss driving 30 minutes to kindergarten.
I will not miss the Neo-Hippies (the ultra-left-wing-evangelical wing of the Eco-Hippie movement).
I will not miss my church calling. Sorry, but I won't. (Please don't let this curse me.)
I will not miss hauling my own trash--though I don't know if I'll have to do it up North, but I'm pretending.
I will not miss the Harleys. Not even a little bit.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A Dozen Cough Drops, Sasquatch, and The Five Dollar Nap
Yesterday was my final concert with the community orchestra I've been playing with. I'm both saddened and relieved. As such, my husband and I decided he would bravely attempt to bring our two small children to the concert and hope for good behavior. As happens once a month these days, I am sick. I am recovering from yet another sinus infection. So I armed myself with a small baggie of a dozen cough drops, hoping and praying I would not have to exit the stage mid-movement to cough up my lung.
My cute boys took their $5 student seats in the balcony amidst multiple comments (I am told) on how handsome they looked in their shirts and ties. The concert began, and ended. In the middle, a few things happened.
First, I went through nearly all of my cough drops and didn't embark on a coughing fit until the last 40 measures. I barreled through, eyes watering, trying to cough only in the loud parts without spewing my cough drop into the first violins.
Secondly, I lost my place a few times during the cello solo despite the overly simple 2nd Violin part because I could not stop looking at the cellist. I am a total sucker for a cellist, neanderthal or no (I'm all for a hairy man, but there comes a point, Sasquatch where you ought to trim everything up a bit--like right before donning a tuxedo). Hair notwithstanding, I was moved by the music, the cellist and the thought that this would be my last chance to sit across the room and watch him (who my husband has dubbed "my orchestra boyfriend") play the cello.
Lastly, Elliot fell asleep before the start of the concert as did Ethan about15 minutes in. As my friend duly noted, there are worse things they could have done during the concert. I'll take it as a compliment.
My cute boys took their $5 student seats in the balcony amidst multiple comments (I am told) on how handsome they looked in their shirts and ties. The concert began, and ended. In the middle, a few things happened.
First, I went through nearly all of my cough drops and didn't embark on a coughing fit until the last 40 measures. I barreled through, eyes watering, trying to cough only in the loud parts without spewing my cough drop into the first violins.
Secondly, I lost my place a few times during the cello solo despite the overly simple 2nd Violin part because I could not stop looking at the cellist. I am a total sucker for a cellist, neanderthal or no (I'm all for a hairy man, but there comes a point, Sasquatch where you ought to trim everything up a bit--like right before donning a tuxedo). Hair notwithstanding, I was moved by the music, the cellist and the thought that this would be my last chance to sit across the room and watch him (who my husband has dubbed "my orchestra boyfriend") play the cello.
Lastly, Elliot fell asleep before the start of the concert as did Ethan about15 minutes in. As my friend duly noted, there are worse things they could have done during the concert. I'll take it as a compliment.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Poop Happens Often
I like to believe there are little plaques being engraved in heaven for the thankless tasks we endure in this life. One day I'll get my little awards to hang in my cubicle in paradise. Until then, I'll imagine the inscription, just to keep me going:
This is to certify that Jen, enduring 8 days as a single parent, all of which so far have involved vomit or diarrhea, got up at three am to change a runny diaper with a flashlight, a bucket of warm water and a rag. She sacrificed the bulk of her sleep to diaper rash avoidance and post-traumatic insomnia. WAY TO GO MOM!
I realize this is nothing compared to what so many braver and stronger women endure each day (they get the corner offices in heaven), but let's face it; I am not that brave, nor that strong. And, I am a whiner, in need of constant positive reinforcement. As children, I think we used to congratulate ourselves more often. Perhaps we should work on reinstating this habit.
Today, as I changed another series of diapers, I commented that Elliot's diaper rash was clearing up, thanks to baby wipe avoidance and diligence with aforementioned bucket of warm water. Elliot was clearly happy about this turn of events as well and said:
I'm so proud of my bottom!
So am I.
This is to certify that Jen, enduring 8 days as a single parent, all of which so far have involved vomit or diarrhea, got up at three am to change a runny diaper with a flashlight, a bucket of warm water and a rag. She sacrificed the bulk of her sleep to diaper rash avoidance and post-traumatic insomnia. WAY TO GO MOM!
I realize this is nothing compared to what so many braver and stronger women endure each day (they get the corner offices in heaven), but let's face it; I am not that brave, nor that strong. And, I am a whiner, in need of constant positive reinforcement. As children, I think we used to congratulate ourselves more often. Perhaps we should work on reinstating this habit.
Today, as I changed another series of diapers, I commented that Elliot's diaper rash was clearing up, thanks to baby wipe avoidance and diligence with aforementioned bucket of warm water. Elliot was clearly happy about this turn of events as well and said:
I'm so proud of my bottom!
So am I.
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