We drove in the dark the other day—a completely new experience for the girls. “Hey look, the headlights!” they shouted, mesmerized for at least the ten minute drive it took to get home.
The last week of packing was crazy for me on the boat. Mark worked at Soltreks throughout and I packed box after box into the Jeep, driving to our new garage once a day to drop it off. The Hebl’s (former house owners) were mostly gone and gave us free range to store our stuff. The girls played happily, for the most part, with an ever-decreasing pile of toys, and on the last morning were banished to the parking lot with their bikes and sidewalk chalk while I moved the last few boxes out and cleaned out the cabin from top to bottom. (When we moved on board I recalled how amazing it was that dozens of boxes would go into the cabin and disappear as stuff was stored. Now I was equally astonished at the number of boxes that could come out of the boat. Where was it all?) I knew that once we left the boat I would not want to think about it, so I cleared it out completely. We had an hour to spare so we ate the last of the fresh food for lunch, put the pot in the Jeep, and went to the playground for one final time. The house closing was scheduled for 1:00, right at naptime.
The closing was easy and friendly; the Hebl’s are such great people and there were no surprises. We drove straight to the house from the closing. The girls played on the rope swing and ran in circles. The Hebls came by to grab the last of the food out of the frig (they left us some venison for dinner) and hung out for awhile while we asked them myriads of questions about the house and the town. They continue to take care of us even now: stop by to remind us of local events, invite us to all kid-parties. What would we have done without them? We wouldn’t be making friends so fast, that’s for sure. Within a week Cedar was invited to her first birthday party at the Duluth zoo.
After the Hebl’s left I felt like collapsing on the…what? So we brought in the mattresses and a futon. But then there was the moving to attend to before collapsing. We emptied the garage which meant we had enough clothing, bedding, and dishes to last until the weekend—Labor Day Weekend--when Mark and old friend Dean took 2 trips up to our storage unit, 1 ½ hrs. away, with a Soltreks van and trailor. Another long day, but how lucky to have the friends and resources to get it done.
We LOVE our house and our location. We are about a block from Lake Superior and there is a park and a trail that runs by the rocky shoreline for ½ mile to the lighthouse. Across the street from our house is a big woodsy block with a playground. We are five blocks from the library, school, and courthouse. The house itself is 100 years old but the Hebls, only the second owners, (the first lived here for 93 years) did all the important renovations. The entire house has beautiful wood floors, and all the woodwork is original. It is old but sturdy and just the right size for us. The neighbors are friendly and several have stopped by. Everyone agrees that this the ‘place to be’ and I feel like we need to prove ourselves worthy of such fortune.
Of course, after the initial euphoria—eating at a TABLE, sleeping on a BED—life has returned to its normal ups and downs. We lived on a boat for a year, but we’ve lived on land for decades; it doesn’t take long to remember. The weather has been gorgeous; we couldn’t have picked a more lovely season to arrive. The bugs are gone and it’s crisp and warm in the day, cool at night. We’ve gotten enough rain that the grass is green again, thought we are still in drought conditions.
I’ve been preoccupied with moving in and getting our rhythm down, and the girls seem to struggle mightily with…what? The transition? I can’t figure it out. They sure love the house, and their bunkbeds, and the space. But they act high-strung and demanding just when (because?) I am feeling anxious about getting stuff done before we find our bills overdue, or our garbage piling up with no pickup, or an empty frig. So we’ve had a lot of difficult days. Cedar’s school situation is less than ideal also; it was either way too much school or not enough—we opted for not enough. Two afternoons a week she takes the bus to preschool. It is very cute and she LOVES it and I just hope that I can keep her occupied this year while we wait for kindergarten. I have a lot—way more than her--of angst about the adjustment, but really want to go with public schools and all that entails, even if it includes things like barbies and candy and birthday parties. The other option is to drive 40 minutes or more to charter schools, or homeschool with other far-away moms. Right now, we are very committed to making Two Harbors our community. So… sigh. At the zoo birthday party Cedar delighted in giving her new friend a pillow she sewed herself and a homemade card, and didn’t mind at all that every other gift she got was huge and Barbie-like. So maybe we’ll be able to walk that fine line—“in” the world but not “of” the world.
Lamar is a little left behind, of course, so I signed her up for playgroup. I have other ideas too but it will take awhile to get them all going. Meanwhile, they are learning the hard way how to SEPARATE. After all our years of making sure they can play together, I am now desperate for them to learn to play alone. They would rather kick and scream at each other than be alone. So we’ve instituted “lone time” when they are required to find their own space. It works wonders and I am SO grateful that we have not just separate inches but separate rooms to use when necessary.
We also appear to have low resistance to cold viruses after 18 months of warmth and sun. We got big colds in August and now the girls have a new round of cold/coughs. Part of this I’m sure is their refusal to wear appropriate clothing. Tomorrow there is the first chance of snow flurries (we got off the boat just in time!) and I’ve laid down the law: “no tank tops” which I don’t think is SO outrageous but Cedar does and it was 9:30 before she would come downstairs in long sleeves.
On the flip side, the other night we went to a staff barbecue at Soltreks. Cedar had been busy all day wrapping “presents” and I hadn’t paid any attention, even when she packed them all in her duffle and brought it along, chattering excitedly about all the presents she was going to give. During the first few quiet minutes of the barbecue, pre-food and after introductions, she produced her duffle. Her first presents—a talking piece and her old passport—were for Doug and Lorri. Everyone else were complete strangers but you’d never have guessed it by the warm smiles and friendly hugs she offered with the rest of her gifts. Pennies, a cutout picture frame, a bracelet she didn’t want, a pen…of course all the recipients were tickled, if a little surprised, to get them. I think she simply fancies herself to be Laura Ingalls, who figured out a way to give everyone a gift even during the Long Winter. Later, when staff were making little speeches to a departing staff, she started it all out with a heartfelt thank-you for “the good job you’ve done,” and ended with “and good luck on your journey,” with another warm open smile. Where does she get this??? I know the obvious answer but I have no recent memory of a similar party or hearing/saying a similar speech. I can’t figure out if we have an actress, a comedian, a linguist, or just an extrovert on our hands.
See the pix of our house!
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