Since it's all lists extraordinaire around here... lists for Home Depot, lists for stores to the east, lists for stores to the west, lists of things that need to be fixed asap, lists of things that need to be fixed almost asap etc, there will be no lists in this blog post because it's been enough to make this non-list girl go crazy.
Good news, this 57 acres of dirt and trees has entered and bonded with my DNA like Spiderman... or maybe more like Anne of Green Gables? My offspring and husband seem to be having similar reactions. We all love it here. I can't describe what it is exactly, maybe we're just like the chick in "Are You My Mother?" ready to bond with the first place that isn't losing its mind (aka California), but the kids play outside all day, eat whatever I put in front of them without complaining (shocker) and promptly fall asleep at bedtime (double shocker). And this is despite me feeding them soggy crockpot debacles and tucking them into sleeping bags on hard floors. The bad news is that the house is in rougher shape than I remember (I saw so many houses when we were here in September that they all started to blend together in my head). When we walked through the door, the smell of cigarette smoke and those glade plug-in things hit rather hard. Also, the previous owners unexpectedly took all of the appliances, and we sold/gave away all of our furniture in San Diego since moving trucks right now are not to be had except with fame or fortune, so we're living rather like gypsies. Add some carpeting that was more like a petri dish of pet urine, grime, food and a thousand uknown substances, and It almost makes me want to go live by the pond in a tent (almost).
I react to stress (and always have) by burying myself in a book when I'm most needed (ask my siblings). So I've been living out the Napoleonic wars again in between ripping up carpeting, scrubbing walls and painting everything with Kilz (and major thanks to my FIL for doing so much painting!). Charlie saw me crying and thought that I was unhappy about moving, but when I told him I was crying over a young boy who died in the first charge at the battle of Waterloo, he turned around and told his brothers, "Mom's pulling a Where The Red Fern Grows". We apparently are known book criers in this family. Or at least Jamie, Charlie and I are. Jim thinks we're crazy and Will and Robbie haven't encountered any books yet that made them cry, but I predict Robbie will be like Jim and Will will join the ranks of the criers.
It hasn't all been indoor remodeling fun though, I rashly bought six fruit trees from a local nursery and have planted all of them in the front yard (which may or may not have been a good spot for them). I couldn't buy any good soil though, and the soil here is very clay heavy, so I had to carry buckets of rich tree mold/soil from the forest. Jim has had pity on me and bought me a wheel barrow, but I regret nothing, it was a great workout. The only casualty is nobody told me you couldn't put your muddy boots by the back door, because I did and some animal dragged one off who knows where. I've put out a reward for it, but so far the kids haven't had any luck finding it.
I think I have PTSD from dealing with Covid in California. I went grocery shopping at the small little grocery store in town and every time someone came towards me or started to talk to me, I started to have a mini panic attack. Imagine my shock and surprise when they just complimented me on how cute Will was or asked me if I needed help. I don't think anyone has smiled at me or done anything like that since March. When I checked out, they even gave me bags (gasp), and the cashier called over the loudspeaker, "Josh, can you come up here, we have a mama who needs help loading her car." It took me a second to realize she was talking about me! Never in my life with small children and four boys has anyone helped load my groceries for me. I had no idea what to say or how to act. I thanked "Josh" profusely and wondered if I was supposed to tip him? Clearly I have no idea. Someone needs to write a "How-To Manual" for living in old America. Even our mail lady is super nice.
All in all, I'd say it's going well. The rain is hitting the roof which is a delightful sound to these dry coast ears, and I think I've killed all of the mice in the house. Yes, our house is small and features ripped up floors and buckets of paint everywhere, but we bought a fridge, washer and dryer and mattresses!
At this rate we'll be living like kings with a couch and stove by Christmas. --
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