Greetings from New England

Hi. I moved to New England.

Because I simply do not have enough funds to cover the therapy bills should I wish to rip the scab off and fully discuss in detail the horrors of our move across the country, let me instead summarize with cryptic and vague bullet points and then we can all just move on:

  • Sub-freezing temperatures, snow, and no winter gear. In both states
  • It’s easier and far cheaper to check a gun as airline baggage than to ship it
  • 4 weeks with no cars
  • 7 weeks with no furniture
  • You shouldn’t pack wine bottles in a pod in temps that will hit the negatives
  • The washing machine and dryer disappeared
  • Dust on dust on dust and there is still a mysterious odor
  • A concussion paired with a trip to the ER
  • Random surprise bills/fees/expenses costing us into the thousands of dollars
  • Advice: never vaccinate your kids early
  • The hell mouth has been located and it’s in my basement

And if you would like to know what happened to my beautiful kindergarten curriculum, I can say it paid off having everything for the entire year completed in advance. Of course, it didn’t help having most of it in a pod for weeks on end which has thrown it totally out of whack and I had to tweak, push, and prod everything to get back on track. And we were on track until this weekend when the plague descended upon my little family and was highlighted with not one but two ER rooms and an ambulance. But come hell or high water I will finish this damn school year on time and without tears, and along with it, I will finish uploading all the missing weeks if you wish to borrow my curriculum for yourself.

Which now brings us to today and what is happening in my life.

First, we are short-term renting a house. Our lease is up this summer and by then we need to have decided if we are going to buy or rent another year, and act upon that decision. I was rather tired of dealing with winter moves and a short lease means we can break that cycle. We are looking at the possibly jumping town or even state, so at this point, I am going to leave our current location broad and unannounced. We are in New England, we are staying in New England, and that’s all I’ve got for you.

Speaking of, our rental house would be a blog post in itself. Maybe several. My landlady is nice and considerate and a good person, but her definition of finish is vastly different than mine. Her definition of the working kitchen is also vastly different, but I gave up silently judging for Lent so I need to stop the conversation here. So besides the occasional rant about having only a 2×2 work surface on which to cook, the smoking chimney, the severe drafts, the doors that won’t open or close, and the random ceiling coving flying off the walls and trying to impale me with its rusty, bent nails, I won’t get into too many details. She is trying to sell the house and I don’t want to ruin that for her. I also don’t want someone tracking her down and telling her I am complaining publicly about the daily plaster dust raining from the wall and ceiling cracks because that might hurt her feelings needlessly. And it isn’t hurting a buyer by the lack of disclosure because believe me, you can see these cracks from several rooms away.

I have resumed my cooking. And with it, I resumed my passion for needing all the stuff, which led me to purchase a pie bird, 5 Mason Cash mixing bowls, and Julia Child’s famous cookbook. Which do not fit in my kitchen with the 2×2 work surface?

I have started looking into next year’s curriculum. If you were paying attention, this means I am not currently in Vermont since Vermont requires the whole damn thing to be done and submitted no later than yesterday. But I did purchase the main bulk of the textbooks by that date and started to organize the non-text book based classes and draft the grade book spreadsheets. I should be able to put up some curriculum notes soon. I know you are just so excited.

I haven’t resumed running as I am still having issues with my lower extremities. The house being questionably stable and certainly in no way level isn’t helping. Ah, well. Baby steps. I am sure to get in my 10,000 steps a day. Sweeping plaster dust eats up a good few thousand alone. At least I am not Couchy McCouchersons.

And I have resumed blogging. As you can see. I am sure it will be sporadic at best but then, whatever. I am not doing this for money nor am I in any way professional. I haven’t yet resumed writing the next novel but that will come when the dust settles. Not literally because oh my gosh seriously the dust never settles in this house.

My First Day as a Single Mom

Finally I can share some news! The Husband landed a new job which involves travel, travel, and more travel. This first project can last weeks, months, or even years. We don’t know. No one knows. But boy I hope someone starts to know pretty quickly.

For him it is miserable. No one melting down at full volume at the worst possible moment, no one kicking him in the face as they crawl into bed with him at 2 am, no one watching him go to the bathroom every flipping time. He gets to eat from his Pit Boss Grills 340 Wood Pellet Smoker when he wants, has a maid clean up his room daily, can explore fabulous cities, and will spend his time with adults doing adult things and having adult conversation. I don’t honestly know how he is going to make it through this. Totally sucks to be him. I get to experience our kids twenty-four-freaking-seven totally up in my face not leaving me alone for a nanosecond. Sweet goodness I won this coin toss. Alone time is overrated. So I have heard.

But coupled with this awesome new single mom title is a super tight tight tight budget. Because we are going to have to move and moving costs money and the sooner we do the sooner I can cease being single mom. I know. Day one and I am already prepared to give up the title. Clearly I am ungrateful. And undeserving.

Where we will end up is any one’s guess- that guess heavily weighing on that aforementioned anyone who has the magic answer to how long the current project will run and where next project will be located. Because the husband keeps threatening to hang it all and move us to Vermont and he totally means it.

Either that or he wants to move across town to this charming 1979 two story ranch loaded with original features including not one but two faux stone fireplaces, low popcorn encrusted ceilings, period tile super glued to the subfloor, and a burgundy kitchen that looks remarkably like the coagulated aftermath of a pig slaughter gone horribly, horribly wrong. Oh and it butts up to BLM land. In the high desert. You know, the place that is dirt, dirt, and more dirt and will only ever be dirt except that one day it floods and becomes super sticky mud? I will never have anything clean ever again. But hey, bonus! All that wind stirring it up will naturally exfoliate me and within a month I will lose at least five pounds in skin alone. Who needs those top seven layers?

I told him I wanted a project. What I meant was a gorgeous 4000 square foot Queen Anne loaded with original features in beautiful Schenectady. I want to spend my life battling lead paint and drafty windows, not black widow spiders and rattle snakes.

So here you are in my journey with me. His journey started this morning as he embarked on his twelve hour travel path through half a dozen airports because where we live and where he is assigned are remarkably the only two places in this entire country that don’t seem to connect to any mutual hub stream. At all. None.

Which is why I am single mom for a (please please please let it be) limited time while the powers that be determine the place he shall be and the length he shall be there so we can live at least in the same time zone. And if the powers that be especially love me, they will make sure it isn’t in Vermont.

But, good news, I survived day one. Almost.

The teen is about to blast through the door between work and her date tonight, the two youngest are watching what is probably an age inappropriate movie instead of sleeping, and I know there is one bag of peanut butter cups downstairs that is the sum total of our contribution for trick or treaters and at this rate I may have to keep the lights off and just hide in a closet the whole night because I. Need. Them. Now.

That aside, we ate meals on time. And the dishes were done. And we brushed our teeth. And I managed to pack two boxes. And I made a shopping list to go with my new meal plan for my new budget. And no one died, got mutilated, or got slapped with an anti-social behavior order and ended up on probation. So I survived. Hooray for me.