When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn’t the old home you missed but your childhood. ~ Sam Ewing

Neighborhood friends.

This is not a photo of me with mine, but it could be.  The time period is right.  The clothes and haircuts are right.  I found it when I Googled "neighborhood friends" and I loved it.  Hopefully I'm not abusing any copyright laws by using it.

In the years when I was around the ages these kids appear to be, neighborhoods in small towns across America were loaded with children.  Our neighborhood was no exception.  In my family I had three brothers.  One family had 10 kids.  Another family had 6 boys.  A few other families had two or three kids. Summer twilight games outside were amazing fun with so many playing Hide 'n' Go Seek or sandlot baseball or games we dreamed up on the spot.

My family moved away from my hometown in 1966.  We moved to the Portland, Oregon, area which was around 150 miles away.  On occasion we'd take a drive back for a day so my mom could visit one of my grandfathers in Hoquiam.  Most of the time we kids didn't want to visit him...we wanted to be dropped off with friends in our hometown.  I can not tell you how devastated I was by that move.  I can not tell you how much I missed my childhood friends.  And thru the years I lost contact with most of them.

Then along came the internet.  People searches.  Alumni sites.  All kinds of ways to find and reconnect with people.  And I've found a few of my childhood friends.  Or they have found me.  Even tho 46 years have passed since I lived there and many moved away in adulthood there is still some kind of bond there between us.  Shared memories, shared histories.  It is an amazing thing to sit down face-to-face with one and pour over what would've been my high school Senior yearbook if I'd still been there.  To find out who's died or found success and those who never moved away.  We could remember most of those kids all the way back to first grade. Most amazing of all was to actually be sitting across a restaurant table, spending time with one of those childhood friends whom I hadn't seen in 45 years.  We reconnected just before my family moved to Michigan.  I feel so blessed to have seen her one more time.

And now, here I am at 58.  2400 miles from home.  In a city where no one shares any history with me at all.  I have become friendly with many since moving here but at this age, at this stage, I don't know if I'll ever be able to form that intimacy that comes with really knowing someone.  How does one find the time, in the busyness of life?  But the lovely thing about friendship is it comes on many levels...from the acceptance and welcoming we've received from a small community church we've been attending to have some face-to-face fellowship with other Christians...from our neighbor Donna who is one of the loveliest people I've ever met...from all the people who cross my path in a day.  Friendship itself isn't what's most important, I've found...it's friendliness.  A smile, a shared greeting, a wave across the street.  Just knowing you're acknowledged, a part of the community...it makes all the difference in the world.

I have been thinking some lately about the things I will probably never see again in my lifetime.  When you move as far away as I have, you don't go 'home' every day.  But you know, it's not the physical part of being there that you take with you anyway.  It's the memories.  It's what you tuck away in your heart for safe keeping. 

There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~ Anaïs Nin

A photo from Dear Hubby's recent hunting trip at a lake near Holly, Michigan.  I love Fall here.  And it's over way too soon.  Many trees have passed their prime and are dropping leaves like snowflakes.  Others are still almost all green.  As this is my first Fall in Michigan I don't know...do they eventually turn color as well?  I know when we moved here in March just about every tree other than any evergreens were bare-branched.  And there aren't many evergreens in this part of Michigan.  But I'm clueless.  And I don't know what 99% of the various trees are here.

I have GOT to quit saying "back here" when I talk to people.  This afternoon as Cooper and I were walking to school to pick Dylan up we came abreast a middle-aged couple out for a walk and I struck up a conversation with them.  Again, I said something about "back here" opposed to "out in Portland" and the husband piped up and asked, "Oh, were you from here originally?"  Ai yi yi, lol!  So I told them about having that pointed out to me recently, that I refer to "back here" a lot in conversation, but it's been a 57-year mind set...everything east of Oregon is "back there" or "back East".  Unless you're referring to Idaho...which is "over in" or Nevada which is "down in".  "Up to Seattle".  "Down in L.A".  Argggghhhh.   There's a LOT of country between Oregon and the East Coast that has always been "back there" to me.  And now I am "back there" living "back here".  Enough on it already!!!

I don't know what kinds of changes are going on in me.  All I know is I feel I have a brand new lease on life since I've been here.  After decades of feeling pigeon-holed into a tiny little corner where I never was allowed to let the "real me" out to the world, I find myself just letting me fly.  I guess we get in our comfort zones, our daily life ruts, and we don't see the forest for the trees.  We get up, go to work, go to bed, and get up again..  But being somewhere so totally new, where I am totally unknown to anyone around me...well, it's not like I'm recreating myself exactly.  But I've found the true me again and my 'original' personality, the one the Good Lord let me be born with, has found a rebirth of some sort.  Once upon a time a million years ago I was a very outgoing friendly little girl.  I didn't know a stranger.  I loved people.  Loved getting to know new people.  A new kid would show up in class in my little hometown school and I was the first one to greet them and welcome them.

I'm not sure what killed that spirit in me.

But it was gone for a long, long time.  And I've missed it.  It's awfully hard to squelch something that is a natural part of who you are.  After being passed over, ignored, forgotten most of the time...never noticed...you finally just...give up.  And then you find yourself wondering why you allowed that to happen in the first place.  But sometimes there are many instances in life that come along where you lose your footing, your confidence, a time or two and then you begin to doubt yourself, question yourself.  And eventually lose yourself.

Not any more.

I was thinking on all this today.  And I was thinking about how much I've been enjoying opening up to people once again.  And wondering why...why...it took me so long to arrive here in myself again.  How many, many years I wasted being only half of who I really am.  Thinking maybe I don't have all that many years left to enjoy being me again.  And I came to the conclusion that at least I realized all this and did something about it.  I didn't just go on...existing.

Remember the lady I wrote about a couple blog entries ago? The one I'd met recently who I thought might become a friend?  Well, I took the bull by the horns.  Got a hold of her.  Invited her over to dinner last nite.  Had a wonderful time.  And you know what?  She is such a jewel.  And she is now my friend.

Oh, how much we limit ourselves when we hold back!  When we don't act on gut instinct and push ourselves out of our comfort zone.  How much we miss!  We really do!  I don't want the rest of my life to be like so much of my middle life was...where I was too timid...too intimidated...to reach beyond myself.  I'm finding a richness to my life I haven't experienced in years.  And oh my, does it feel sweet.

They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom. ~ Confucius

Sometimes, when I really get to thinking about it, the distance I've put between my hometown and where I live now pulls me up so short I get that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, like when an elevator I'm on stops too quickly.  I think it's pretty safe to say the reality is I will never see it again in my lifetime.  Another one of those facts that hits me every now and then....well, more like at least once a day....and literally takes my breath away.  That I may never ever see anyone from my 'past' life face-to-face ever again.  Or that 2/3 of the United States sits between me and Portland.  That I live in the Eastern Time Zone.  That I live in Michigan.

I'm getting tired of writing about this.  I've been here 7 months now.  It's time to just settle down and write about the things I used to write about, like my aversion to phones and menopause and books and everything else I filled up 1500 posts on.  And yet, it always seems to come back to this.  Have any of the rest of you made such a monumental move for the first time in your life as you're approaching your Golden Years?  Is it because I was so settled in my comfort zone for so many many years that I feel like a kid in a candy store in my new environment, my new life, and each day as I awaken and realize where I am it blows me away?  I did this?!  Me?!  No no no...no way. 

Dear Hubby and I were talking about this yesterday.  It's been a big change for me, yes.  But it's been of epic proportions for him.  Talk about being settled in comfort zones!  He'd worked at the same company for 32 years.  He'd been the Supervisor there for 16 of them.  He knew his job inside, outside, and upside down.  He could've been blindfolded and found his way there.  He functioned on automatic pilot because of the sameness of his days.  And then we moved here.  He didn't even know where the new business he works for was located.  He knew zip zero nada about the type of business it is.  He didn't even know what he was supposed to do.  And he was 57 years old.  Since the first of March he's definitely learned a lot.  He's put his whole heart into learning it, into pulling his mind out of its sleep mode and compartmentalizing all kinds of new information that's coming at him from all directions.  And he says he's feeling truly 'alive' for the first time in years.  He's  coming home at nite and having the most vivid dreams.  So am I.  We've both been wondering why and I told him I think it's because both our brains are functioning on overdrive since we moved here.  So much new stuff to absorb, so many changes.  Our brains are so overstimulated they don't know how to shut off.

That's ok, tho.

Because in retrospect we both realize how much we were stagnating.  How much we were just going thru the motions.  Another day, another dollar so to speak.  Get up, go to work, go to bed...only to get up, go to work, go to bed.  We were in a rut, baby.

Well, we're in anything but a rut now.  Each day is a new adventure.  It's like we've come out of a long hibernation or something.  I don't have the words or ability to define it right.  It's like I've been given a new lease on life, I guess.  Like life has a freshness to it that I'd almost forgotten it had.  Like the joy of discovery I had as a child has been given back to me.  A rebirth.

Dear Hubby and I have never ever been wave-jumpers.  We've never done anything extraordinary.  Never bungee-jumped or rafted down the Colorado River.  We were the type of couple who'd come into the church we'd attended and sit in the same pew on every Sunday, for years.  We were steady.  Predictable.  Nice. Ordinary.  I know we shocked ourselves when we agreed to set forth on this life-changing adventure.  But I think we shocked everyone we know even more so.  We've had several friends tell us they admire the "guts" we had in embarking on this journey.  They tell us they admire us.  And many have told us they wished they could do the same thing, especially those around our ages.  Those who are into their humdrum existence, who are functioning on automatic pilot.

We both felt we've been 100% led by God to do what we've done.  We both feel we made the right decision and are right where God wants us to be at this particular time in our lives.  We feel God working on us in ways we don't have answers for but we have total confidence in Him and know He's leading us still.  There is great comfort in that knowledge.  I feel like Lots wife...."Don't look back."  And I don't.  I have no regrets.  And if I never see Portland or my hometown again?  Well, that's what a memory is for.  They're right here with me, and they always will be.

If I had to sum up Friendship in one word, it would be Comfort. ~ Terri Guillemets

Ah, friendship.....

I've been doing some thinking about friendship lately.

People tell us we've had a lot of "guts", Dear Hubby and I, moving 2400 miles from all that's been familiar to us our entire lives in the Pacific Northwest to Michigan.  We've left behind everything.  Our home of 28 years.  Our church of 35.  Family.  Friends.  A job of 32 years.  Familiar faces.  Familiar places.  Everything.

 In this mobile world, this mobile society, young people are globe trotters.  It's a big undertaking packing up all your belongings and heading out into the great unknown but it's more common for the younger set than it is for people of our age, crowding 60.  Especially considering we'd lived in the region our entire lives.  Neither one of us had ever been big travelers.  We'd never taken a cruise.  Never been to Hawaii.  We took a road trip once to Yuba City, California, when we were newlyweds to visit Dear Hubby's Aunt Norma.  Outside of that, we'd never been out of Oregon or Washington on a trip together.  Are you seeing a pattern here?  That we liked staying pretty close to home?  Dear Hubby was more apt to take off all over Oregon for hunting trips but I was content staying home and keeping the home fires burning.  I liked my nest.

And now here we are, living on the outskirts of Motor City.  Motown.  Detroit.  We have a beautiful little house here.  Dear Hubby makes a good living.  Our children are here also, as well as our grandchildren, which has been a tremendous blessing...we are each others' support system and at least some familiar faces.  Dear Hubby and I are very content and we love it here very much.  We plan on dying here.  One big move like this in our middle years is enough to last us the rest of our lifetimes.

With all that said, where do you begin in making friends?  It's almost like going out and starting over in the dating field after being married for 40 years.  You don't have to worry about the physical attraction part.  At least I don't care what a friend looks like...I dunno about you.  Maybe you love to surround yourself with beautiful people.  Eye candy.  Me, I look at the heart, the inner person.  That's what attracts me to a friend.  At the age of 57 I have a lot of history behind me.  Heartaches.  Joys.  Milestones.  Deaths of parents.  A happy marriage of 37 years duration so far.  I have friends 'back home' who go back to my girlhood, my childhood.  I have friends from my very first job out of high school.  I have church friends.  Neighborhood friends.  They're people who've known me for what seems like forever.  And I don't have to start from square one and 'define' myself.  They know me and they love me for who I was then and for who I am now.  I can relax.  I don't have to explain myself.  They know I'm a little....a little?!...eccentric.  They know I'm really goofy.  They know I'm loyal and true and I love them every bit as much as they love me.

But now.

Well, you can go and introduce yourself to your neighbors and you become very friendly and they bring you over extra fruit salad or talk to you over the back fence.  And that's very nice and that makes you feel very good.  It makes you feel like a part of the community, like you're accepted and they think you're nice and all that.  And for the most part that's all I require.  Plus I have my 'home base' of family and friends on Facebook and keep in daily contact on there.  Which is about all I had when we lived in Portland since I do full time day care for my grandsons and my life is so, so full.  So full.

And yet.

I love my daughter and daughter-in-law to the point of distraction.  I enjoy being with them and doing things with them.  And I do consider them friends but not....friends.  Not contemporaries of my generation.  Not someone I can sit down with and talk to about Woodstock and know they're traveling right back down Memory Lane with me and revisiting that time and place in their heads.  Someone I can talk woman-to-woman to...someone with adult children, empty nests.  Menopausal.  Women who have a few years of experience in living under their belts.  Someone who really, really gets me.

I've met someone recently who I think might fit into that category.  Someone very sweet and kind.  The lady I posted about on Facebook who told me at a gathering recently that she liked me the moment she met me...and I felt the same about her.  But where do we go from here?  Do I call her and invite her out to lunch on a Saturday?  Is her life so full already that she has no room for another friend?  Will my time and schedule limitations be too much for her to work around?  I always have the fear of the same thing happening to me that happened to a friend several years ago who'd come back to my church in Portland after being gone for many years.  She'd approached an old girlhood friend, hoping to re-establish that bond, only to have the other woman tell her, "I'm glad that you're back, but I have all the friends that I need right now."  Ouch.

Ah well.  I'm not my dad's daughter for nothing.  I'm game to reach out and I will.  And I will let you know where it goes from here.  Because I like people.  And I'm not afraid of reaching out, even if I get bruised in the process.  Bruises heal.

A Day is a Thousand Years and a Thousand Years is but a Day.....

This is Cooper with our neighbor Bob.  Bob is a man of infinite patience.  If you only had any idea how much Cooper is filling him in on the story of his life up to the age of 3 1/2!  Cooper loves Bob.  Loves him.  And Bob is going to be 90 years old on Thursday.  Unfortunately, I am still on vacation so Cooper won't be around this week to wish Bob a Happy Birthday.  And he'll miss Garbage Day, which is also Thursday.  Sometimes Life just isn't fair.

I spent a day doing touch-up painting on the white woodwork in the house and tomorrow I plan on caulking the shower stall.  Then I think I'll be done with inside home improvements.  I need to do a final weeding before the cold weather hits so I think I'll do that on Friday.  I'm on vacation but I don't know the meaning of sitting still.  I seem to have lost the ability to sit around and do nothing.  And of sleeping in.  But getting up early seems to make a day last longer to me.  Which is funny, considering there are 24 hours in a day regardless of whatever time you decide to get up or an alarm of some sort beckons you.  But I love that feeling of getting up early and knowing I have a whole day ahead of me to enjoy.  Once the sun goes down...well, it's bedtime.  I've been geared this way for so long the only time I can sleep in is when I'm sick, and since I don't like that to happen very often I'm usually up before the birds.

I have never experienced the full four seasons before moving back to Michigan.  Not to say that Oregon doesn't have them, too, but here in the midwest they're each so distinct.  This is the beginnings of my first Autumn here and if what we're having now is just the foretaste I can't imagine what it's going to look like in the next month.  Yesterday Dear Hubby and I were taking a drive and the landscape we were passing by was so beautiful.  Not the riotous colors of brilliant leaves and foliage yet, but the different hues of greens, golds, russets, scarlets, and browns of the earth and the fields.  It was kind of misty across the fields as evening approached, and the old farms and barns in the distance were blurred and softened by the fading light and shadows.  Cows and horses grazed, as well as sheep.  It had been raining hard when we set out but the rains had let up as we headed for home and patches of blue were opening up between the high, billowy clouds.  So peaceful.  I told Dear Hubby you truly do feel as if harvest time is here...you can feel the earth kind of letting out a deep sigh and settling in for a long rest, tucking its covers in and hunkering down to sleep thru the cold of winter.  The life and seasonal cycles keep on; the clock never stops ticking.

Dear Hubby and I took another drive not too long ago.  Further from home.  And we ended up lost down in a holler set back in the mountains.  Very lost.  So I told him to stop when he spotted a person and I'd get out and ask for directions.  We came across a woman in her yard outside of a log-style home set close to a river and as I climbed out of the truck she squinted cautiously at me as I crossed the deserted road, flapping a piece of paper at her.  "I need directions!" I told her.  "We're not from around here and we're very lost."  She let me approach and as I got closer to her she looked like one of those mountain women I've only seen in pictures up until now.  Weathered skin, not an ounce of fat on her.  But beautiful in her own way...you could see the life she'd led etched into the deep creases on her face and around her eyes.  "Whereabouts you coming from?" she asked me.  And when I told her we'd recently moved to the midwest from Portland, Oregon, she looked at me like I'd told her we'd just landed from Mars.  But as I told her where we needed to go she was so gracious and kind and kept calling me "Honey".  She got us pointed in the right direction and wished us well.  It almost made me wish we hadn't needed to leave, that we could have sat with her by the river the rest of the afternoon and listened to stories about her life.  Something tells me she would've been just as fascinated to hear stories about ours as well.

We love taking our meandering drives and seeing what an interesting country America is.  In the past most of my trips outside of Oregon were done in the air.  I'd never really seen or experienced this country of ours firsthand, up close and personal, on ground level.  As we go here and there we're amazed how much diversity and variety there is in the landscape and the people, even if all we travel is a hundred miles or so from home.  And having the privilege to have Canada so close by now, and being able to discover it and our wonderful neighbors there.  I would've never dreamt a year ago I'd be where I am and experiencing what I am now.  It truly does feel like Dear Hubby and I are in some kind of a dream fugue state.

We went on another drive not too long ago, heading out early and driving to a farm town in the middle of nowhere.  We decided to stop for breakfast at a little restaurant on the main street and we were the only patrons there who weren't farmers.  So we sat and ate our breakfast and listened in to conversations and thoroughly enjoyed our morning in Small Town America.  A town where everyone seemed to know everyone else and denim overalls and caps on their heads were the uniform of the day.   There's a feeling here in the midwest I can't quite put my finger on but it's a good feeling.  I feel safe here, enveloped in the America of my childhood.

I know, you're thinking I've lost my marbles.  That I'm living in a fantasy world of some sort.  That my bubble will burst and I'll be horribly disappointed one of these days.  But I got an email from my younger brother the other day and he said, "You know, when you first moved back there I thought the way you felt about the midwest was too good to be true.  But you really do love it back there, don't you?"

Yes, baby brother.  I do.

A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend. ~ Author Unknown

What a strange concept...waiting for this little girl to come over to my house today. 

Oh.

Wait a minute.

That was her, 31 years ago.

She doesn't look anything like that now.

She moved into her very first alone apartment a couple of weeks ago.  She's been saying it feels like a hotel room still because it's devoid of  'homey' touches.

So what does Mom do?

I went and bought her several houseplants today.  I also told her she can go thru all the boxes and bins down in the storage cupboards in the basement and is welcome to any of the kitschy stuff that's in them.  As well as any art work that hits her fancy.

I might even toss in a box of nails.

They grow up and they go 'away'. 

But they're forever in a mother's heart, no matter what their age.

Our genes make us immortal. ~ The Secret of Life, PBS

So far I've spent my morning doing my grocery shopping a little after 6.  Then doing some little chores that I never seem to find the time for during the week.  Like taking a broom and zeroing in on a bothersome cricket who's been chirp chirp chirping in the grass near my neighbor Donna's fence.  How can a cricket chirp 24 hours a day?  I 'swept the grass'  --  gently  --  and it stopped.  Then I stood there and listened for a few moments and all was quiet.  I've been waking up in the middle of the nite and, even with the fan in the bedroom going and the hum of the AC unit outside, little Mr./Ms. Cricket has been cranking away.  Dear Hubby thought it was the fan beginning to make noise but I told him no...it's the cricket.

My daughter-in-law is coming by around 11 am and the two of us are going over to my daughter's apartment to spend the afternoon helping her get settled.  We all pitched in last weekend and actually got her moved but with working full time she hasn't had much time to get organized yet.  I spent some time filling up the back of my pick up truck this morning with the boxes and bins that didn't fit into the U-Haul truck last week.  I can not believe someone who hasn't been out on her own for years can have so much STUFF.  But she does.  And she purged 23 big garbage bags and numerous boxes of books before we moved here from Portland.  I'm bringing along a box of big garbage bags today, too.  Maybe we can help her purge some more.  Her apartment has two bedrooms and a nice storage area off the kitchen...but even with that we're going to be hard-pressed to find room for everything that she has. 

Am I suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome?  Not at all.  The first couple of days she was gone felt kind of strange, but mostly I'm thrilled for her to be able to be on her own.  She'd had one disastrous experience moving in with a friend several years ago.  Came back home to get herself squared away.  Then couldn't afford to rent an apartment in Portland on her own.  She's lived with us ever since.  But here in Michigan she's found her apartment for $635 per month and with the income tax here several percentage points lower than the income tax in Oregon, she should be able to make it just fine.  It's been 35 years since Dear Hubby and I have had our house to ourselves.  It feels good. 

It feels wonderful.

It's good to know both of our children are on their own and I can finally let the apron strings go completely.  As I told her, I never have been one to hold on to those strings tightly anyway.  When my son got married I told my daughter-in-law, "He's yours now".  And I meant it.  And now our daughter's on her own.  We'll be here for them if they need us, but Dear Hubby and I are more than ready for whatever time we have left to be just the two of us. 

Alone.

Homesick: depressed or melancholy at being away from home and family

I just thought you might like to see a fairly recent photo of me with my children and grandchildren.  This was taken on Mother's Day over at my son's house.  The only person missing, of course, is Dear Hubby.  I posted this on my Facebook page with the caption saying something about how lonely a Mother's Day it would've been if we hadn't all been able to move here to Michigan together.  I couldn't imagine my life without them all being in it on a daily basis.

It is so hot and so humid today, Memorial Day.  We are again heading out to our son's house for a barbecue.  Well, barbecue beef sandwiches.  I'm not sure we'll be cooking anything on the grill.  Or if we'll sit outside.  Or in the house in central air-luxury.  We have central air.  We also have a humidifier.  But do we know how to activate them?  No.  Never had to use air conditioning in the Northwest.  We'd have our hot days there but never enough to warrant going out and spending a small fortune on air conditioning units.  Fans did us quite nicely, thank you.  This morning Dear Hubby and I noticed moisture on the linoleum floor in the basement.  Kind of like a very slight 'dew', I guess you'd call it.  We've never experienced that before, either.  A west coast friend who lived back here was on Facebook and I asked her if this was normal.  She told me yes, and it'd be a good idea to get a humidifier.  I told her we already have one but don't know how to use it.  I haven't heard back so I'm thinking she doesn't know how to either, haha!  Luckily we discovered this before one of the deer mounts on the floor was ruined from absorbed moisture.  Dear Hubby took it outside and laid it on a towel in the driveway to dry out in the sun.  I'm thinking there is a lot about this new climate we live in that we don't have a clue about.

One thing I am not is homesick.  I find that very ironic, considering I was a child who'd get so homesick when I tried spending the nite at a neighbor's when I was 4 or 5 I'd cry in the nite and my friend Annie's dad would kindly walk me over to my house and deliver me to my parents', where I'd happily go upstairs to the familiarity of my own bed.  Maybe it's because I do have all of my 'nuclear' family here with me.  Maybe it's because my siblings and I have never lived in each others' pockets.  Maybe it's because I don't have much extended family to worry about or miss anymore.  But life here has picked up to its normal pace and that makes things feel more 'homelike' here.  I'm again taking care of my grandsons on a full time basis so my days are busy and full.  I don't feel lost any more as I travel about.  Even the Michigander accent doesn't sound so unusual to my ear now.  In fact, we got a wrong-number-call last week from someone out in Portland and the man I spoke to sounded kind of 'funny' to me.  I'm used to us sounding western, and our friends and family sounding western...but anybody else around us?  No......  So that was kind of surreal.

The grandboys are finally to the stage where I don't have to be constantly involved in what they're doing now.  They can watch TV around me.  They can play around me.  But they don't require me to take part in everything.  So one thing I'm getting back to that I've missed terribly these past few years is reading.  I'd forgotten what a luxury it is to sit down with a book and be able to read more than a paragraph without "Grandma!" ringing out.  It still takes me the bulk of the week to read an entire book, but considering I've hardly read anything --  well, what I would consider anything  --  the past few years, this is so pleasant to come back to!  In the few months we've lived here that I hadn't been doing day care, I couldn't get enough books to read.   It's like they were telling me, "Welcome BACK!"

We're off to our son's now. 

Weather forecast for tonight: dark. ~ George Carlin

I awoke to rolling claps of thunder this morning that seemed to resound thru the heavens forever. The rain was drumming down on the roof and lightning flashed and lit up the bedroom. I can not remember ever waking up to a thunder storm when I lived in Oregon.

Yesterday Dear Hubby and I took a drive to West Bloomfield early in the morning. He has been a bow hunter for many years and had heard about the Detroit Archers club, one that Fred Bear, a legend in the archery world, had been a member of. There was a pea-soup fog and it was 44 degrees as we left Livonia. We didn't see much of the surrounding countryside during our drive. We could barely see 10 feet in front of us. But once we got home the fog lifted so quickly it was hard to believe it had ever been here. And within a short span of time it was 82 degrees.

Since arriving here in Michigan, natives have been telling me if you don't like the weather, wait. It'll change in 5 minutes.

You know what? They're telling the truth

A Life of pages waiting to be filled... -- Michael W. Smith

It's a funny thing, moving away from all that's familiar to a place where things are seemingly the same and yet...aren't.. I mean, Michigan is part of the United States of America, as is Oregon. And yet Michigan is so different. The air is different. The terrain is different. The architecture is different. The roads are different. There aren't potholes back here...there are teeth-jarring craters in the road at the end of winter you quickly learn to dodge if you don't want your front end knocked out of alignment every time you drive to the grocery store. Life doesn't stop back here when it's 5 degrees outside. Babies and toddlers are swaddled up to their eyeballs in parkas and caps and mittens and boots. I have not seen one feral cat. In fact, outside of a neighbor's cat I spy every now and then sitting on a table looking out the window, the only other cat I've seen was one dead by the side of the road a few weeks back. Today is April 5th...the sun is shining...and yet flurries of snowflakes were falling in the sunlight. I thought they were cherry blossoms until I realized there aren't any trees in blossom here yet.

I have visual memories that will come to me every now and then during the day. Like on Sunday when Dear Hubby and I walked all the way over to Farmington Road and I said to him I was almost more tired walking 4-5 miles of flat streets than I was when we walked to the top of Mt. Tabor. And then I pictured the beauty of Mt. Tabor -- pictured above -- and the vista of downtown Portland from the western side, and the majestic beauty of Mount Hood from the eastern side. And I could see it crystal clear in my mind's eye, the many mornings we'd trudge up there around daylight or on a warm summer evening. It's a moment's memory like that that will jar my heart. And I'm not sure if I miss it. I haven't had a moment of homesickness yet. And yet a moment's memory will make me feel...unsettled. I guess where I'm at right now is somewhere between finishing pulling all the roots up before planting them down deep in new soil. The work is being done but I've yet to experience the harvest.

I love my new home. I love my new town. I love my new state. I feel welcome here. I am not lonely here. I am at peace here.

It is amazing how quickly we humans adjust, how quickly the unfamiliar becomes familiar. How I wake up in the middle of the nite and know that I'm home already. I am not lost.

Home. At Last.

Can it possibly be?! Are we finally moved in? Do I have a house to call home now? The answer is yes, yes, yes!

What a journey.

We arrived in Livonia on March 5th. We spent two weeks 'living' in the Comfort Inn on Middlebelt Road a tantalizing 5 blocks away from 'our' house. But thanks to the very incompetent ministrations of Chase Bank's home loan department in Portland, we arrived thinking we were ready to move right in, only to find the loan couldn't be processed in Michigan if it originated in Oregon. They hadn't even bothered to open up the FHA Appraisal that stated a few repairs were needed before the loan could close. They hadn't even bothered to inform us of all this. Every phone call, every email I sent, I was given the same answer: "Everything's moving right along. It's with the underwriters and should be closing at the end of February". So Dear Hubby and our d-i-l set out to drive across country at the end of February. And when they were in Iowa Dear Hubby received a phone call from our realtor: "We've got problems!" He hadn't heard anything from Chase in a long time and took it upon himself to call our loan officer, only then to find out we didn't have a loan, let alone being even close to closing. We were nowhere! So Dear Hubby called me with this news, totally freaked out. Not only ours wasn't any good...neither was the kids' loan for their house. Now what to do?! Here Dear Hubby and our stressed-out d-i-l are in Livonia by this time and the rest of us are living...surviving...in a Days Inn in Portland waiting to fly out to Detroit that Saturday while our belongings and vehicles were on their way across the country. Arggghhhh.

To make a long, stressful-beyond-belief, and wild story short, our wonderful guardian angel of a Real Estate Guy named Bill and a mortgage broker friend of his named Sam went above and beyond the call of duty to secure home loans for both of us from square one, doing everything they could to push the closing dates up as quickly as possible. And two weeks later we finally took possession of our homes. But our possessions themselves were still in storage, somewhere in Indiana, so we had to wait a couple of extra days to have them delivered. But they arrived and some great moving guys got us all settled. The kids didn't even have to stay with us for a couple of weeks, like we'd originally thought. Sam the Miracle Worker got everything closed on the same day. I could've kissed the guy.

And now I'm all hooked up to the fastest internet I've ever had. I am back typing on a keyboard at 70-75 wpm instead of plunk-plunk-back space-back space-plunk-plunking on my new Droid phone. I am more than happy to put that thing back to just being a phone, tho I must admit it was nice to have something give me limited internet access. I was just abominably slow typing with my left thumb. And 9 times out of 10 whatever I wrote wouldn't post or send anyway. Sigh. I wish I knew how many emails are lost somewhere in the outer darkness of cyberspace.

I feel like I'm starting from the very beginning again. Like it's going to take time to find my 'blog' voice once more. It feels like forever since I've written anything of any substance. I feel rusty and very out of practice. Like my voice is creaky from lack of use. But it feels so good to be here once more, chronicling our lives for the grandboys. I wish I'd been able to keep it up-to-date while we made our way 2/3 of the way across the country. But so much of it was so hard. So much of it was scrabbling around to find the needed paperwork when everything was stashed away somewhere in the back of a semi truck trailer somewhere in Indiana. It was days of trying to keep two little boys who were beyond sick of being stuck in hotel suites for three weeks entertained and quiet. It was more dinners out in restaurants than I care to eat ever again.

Ah, but we survived. We did. And in looking back at it now a couple of weeks later it doesn't seem so bad after all. I'm sure a year from now we'll laugh about it, rolling our eyes and calling it our Grand Adventure of a Lifetime.

But do I want to move again any time soon?

No, thank you.

At Last....Livonia!

I'm going to attempt to write a blog entry here. Since arriving in Livonia a week ago I've had very little computer access...a public computer with time limits in the lobby of the hotel we're staying in and the one I'm using now, my daughter's very finicky lap top. It seems like every time I use this one whatever I write disappears or it'll suddenly take me to a new page. It's so frustrating I've been using it for email and Facebook access only and even then it's just to say a few words here or there.

We experienced a glitch in our home loan processing of nightmarish proportions...Chase Bank in Portland lied to us thru their teeth, assuring us everything was going smoothly and the loan should close by the end of February. They said this many times, both over the phone and thru emails. So we proceeded on our move here, only to arrive and find our houses couldn't close. Upon further investigation we found out the loan from Oregon wouldn't be legal here in Michigan...and the bank KNEW that and didn't bother to tell us. Kept telling us everything was going fine. To make a very long, tedious, frustrating, infuriating story short....we had to start over from square one, reapply for new loans here, and now are waiting for our houses to close. Thank the good Lord for wonderful angels like Bill the Real Estate Guy and Sam the New Mortgage Broker who are moving heaven and earth to get us into our new houses! In one week they've accomplished more than Chase did in two months!

Not to say our arrival in Livonia has been all bad. No, no, no. We're staying in a very nice hotel suite until we're able to move in. Dear Hubby and I took a nice drive to Lansing on Saturday, just to look around and see what the countryside is like. The people in this region are so friendly and helpful, and the staff here at the hotel are beginning to feel like family! I have suffered terribly from sinus and bronchial issues my entire life, living in the damp Northwest climate, and since moving back here I feel marvelous...the cold dry air of the tail end of winter and I get along just fine! Everyone has started their new jobs here, a huge undertaking but so far going very well. My daughter-in-law will begin working there too once the boys get settled. Their house should close around the same time ours does but the owners are still in it and have up to two weeks to move. So, the kids will live with us until their house is vacant.

We're not feeling really 'settled' yet. I don't think that will come until we're actually in our own home surrounded by our own things. Right now, everything is still in the back of a semi trailer stored somewhere here in Livonia. But if this first week of transition time is any indication of what's ahead of us, I'm thinking I'm going to like living here just fine.

We need not destroy the past. It is gone. ~ John Cage

I'm sitting here waiting for the truck to come pick up the drop box. The box has been sitting in front of our house since Wednesday. We have filled it to the brim every day, only to come out and find it half full each morning. It is the strangest thing, seeing the things we consider trash and worthy of toss-out something someone else would actually want. But I'm sure without the pickers and gleaners who've come thru, the box would be filled to overflowing. So they've actually saved us money, I'm sure. They have taken all our metal, including the deeply embedded steel pole that's been at our curbside for the past 20 years. Once upon a time it had a basketball backboard attached to it and I can still see the ghosts of the boy our son used to be and those of his childhood friends spending endless hours shooting hoop. I can still hear the thump of the basketball hitting against the backboard.

I am drowning in such memories.

Looking for a reason, roaming thru the night to find my place in this world....~ Michael W. Smith

Frazzled is such a great word. Dictionary.com defines it as "worn out; fatigued". That would be me.

So what have I done this week to be so frazzled, you ask? Dear Hubby and I spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday cleaning our basement. 28 1/2 years' worth of basement. I think we've both learned a valuable lesson about basements. If you have something you no longer need, if you have something that breaks and no longer works, don't put it in the basement. It's too easy to 'forget' that it's there. Until it's time to clean it out. Until it comes back to haunt you. I found boxes of old check books and registers, bank statements, insurance papers...I took 95 lbs. of useless old papers to Office Max this week to have them shredded. 95!!!!! The clerk who helped me couldn't believe how loaded down my shopping cart was with boxes and garbage bags full. I'd thought about going thru old papers and envelopes, sorting out the stuff to recycle and ripping up the papers with SS numbers or bank account numbers....but once I saw the volume I thought, "No way!" I would've been buried in it. I would've been sorting until next September.

Dear Hubby had to go back to work on Thursday. Oh. I think I might've mentioned he was supposed to have two weeks off to help me pack? Well, when it comes to applying for home loans, even tho our credit was excellent, banks don't necessarily like the promise of a job in Michigan. They actually need proof. So bye-bye vacation time and last Monday off to work he went at the warehouse here in Portland. But I'm not easily discouraged. We had a drop box delivered on Wednesday and I have spent the past two days hauling more junk out to toss in to it than I care to remember. I wish I had a dollar for every trip back and forth, back and forth. I wouldn't be a millionaire but I could've bought myself a nice lunch. Or two. Or maybe even three.

All told, I must've taken at least 20 loads to Goodwill. That's not including the trips my daughter made, too. Where does all this stuff come from? Where?!

The drop box attracted 'pickers' and dumpster divers like vultures. At one point we had the box almost filled to the top but pickers and gleaners were out there until bed time at least, sorting thru our junk. I guess it goes to prove one man's junk truly is another man's....well, let's make that men and womens'...treasure. When we got up the next morning, the box was barely half full. So we filled it again. And this morning it was half empty again. Even our neighbor Sonny was out there sorting thru this and that and asking me about a hundred times, "What are you throwing this out for?" I told him, "So you could find it, Sonny!" And this morning when he asked me that question yet again I told him, "Sonny, at this point I just want it gone!" And I do. Want it gone. Gone. Gone. And errands? And phone calls? I have lists to remind me I have lists.

And in the midst of this I've taken care of my grandboys two afternoons so my d-i-l could go out to lunch a last time with various work friends. Which was fine. She needed the break and I've been missing my little guys. We have them overnite tomorrow nite...my d-i-l's birthday is on Sunday so we're giving her the gift of being able to go out, relax with her hubby, and enjoy herself. My best friend Lizzee is stopping by to pick some stuff up. One of Dear Hubby's cousins is also stopping by to pick up some stuff too. You see, we have so much stuff we're even giving it away...share and share alike. Sunday we've been invited out to my mother-in-law's for a goodbye dessert and coffee get together to say our farewells to his family.

Monday I have the mother of a blog friend in the Tacoma area driving all the way down here to Portland to go out to lunch with me. We've been wanting to meet and with time running out we decided we'd better get 'er done! Wednesday my baby brother is coming over one last time. Thursday we have another dessert and coffee get together to attend in the evening...a goodbye party given by a friend at our church.

And then...

And then......

There'll be a flurry of last-minute packing of the day-to-day things. Everything will be loaded on the trucks. The vehicle transporter will load up our cars and trucks to haul back to Michigan. By the end of next weekend, we'll no longer live here. Dear Hubby and our d-i-l are taking off Monday the 28th to drive back....it's the only way to transport their dog Max. It's too cold this time of year for him to fly. No one would feel safe having her drive alone and she and Dear Hubby both love to drive, so this is the perfect solution. My son, my daughter, the boys, and I will stay at a hotel here for a few days, then fly out to Detroit on Saturday at noon. I spoke to James the Bank Guy today and he said he's really pushing to have our house in Livonia ready when we get there. We're hoping everybody and everything is synchronized to hopefully arrive about the same time.

Whewwwwwwwww.

I'm exhausted just writing about it.

Men may scoff, and men may pray, but they pay every pleasure with a pain. ~ William Henley

Well, it doesn't appear that the image maker wants to cooperate today so I'll leave it to it's persnickety self and just do a cold, illustration-less entry. Maybe by the time I'm done it will get over its attitude. Maybe it's PMS'ing. (Update: It got over itself!)

Our departure date is still somewhat up in the air but drawing ever closer and faster all the time. My last day taking care of my grandsons until we move to Michigan was last Friday so I've been a whirling dervish of activity getting rid of truckloads of donations to the Goodwill. To help process our loan, Dear Hubby had to start work this Monday at the company headquarters here in Portland. Banks don't like the promise of a new job, they like to actually know you're working so he's getting a good dose of what's ahead of him. The first day he was so tired and so frazzled...everything he's doing is so different from the previous job he'd had for almost 32 years. But everyone is very kind, very encouraging, and he seems to be adapting himself to it well. So...the vast majority of the moving preparations are falling on me. My daughter is here and could help if she was well, but she's been hit with a horrible cold. I've sorted thru quite a bit and have several bins and boxes stacked along a wall in the basement. I've been bringing up bins full of Dear Hubby's hunting clothes and gear and each evening after dinner we're sitting down and doing a toss/keep marathon. Last nite I filled up 4 big garbage bags full of clothes and 4 bags full of old hunting books. My recycling bin is almost full to overflowing so my neighbors are being very generous and letting me put some of ours in their bins. I dumped about 50 old magazines today. There's something very satisfying in getting rid of stuff, whether it's thru donations or recycling or giving away to neighbors.

Some things I will miss, tho:

My Mason Bee houses. I'm afraid the bees wouldn't make it across country in the back of a moving van. Plus I don't know if there are state regulations against bringing insects like them across borders. So they're getting a very good new home with my neighbor Sharon...she's taking all four of them.

Also, I'll miss not seeing my tulips bloom.

My back porch...it's peace and privacy.

My flowerbeds. They've been a labor of love from the very first shovelful of dirt I dug up so many years ago.

But...there will be new tulips. No back porch, but a back patio area. My new yard will be a fresh canvas to 'paint' however I want to from scratch, just like this one was.

Things to give up. Things to say goodbye to. But new things to find. New things to say hello to.

It balances out somehow, doesn't it?

Life is like playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument as one goes along. ~ Samuel Butler

I won't be able to post this view and call it home much longer. The days are winding down fast now as we prepare to move. My daughter-in-law finished up work at her old job on Friday and is now at home with my grandsons for the next couple of weeks so it's my turn to dig in and begin seriously sorting, purging, and packing. I have half a dozen boxes piled here in the dining room that hold the contents of my built-in china closet and my curio cabinet. I stopped at the Goodwill on the way to church this morning and dropped off two big garbage bags filled with cast-off clothes from mine and Dear Hubby's closet. Tomorrow I will tackle the shelves in it. My collection of Gladys Taber books I have stored up there. Three baseball gloves. My sewing kit. Several gift bags filled with other gift bags, gift tags, tissue paper, and whatnot. My paper bag filled with my old collection of paper dolls I've been keeping with me since I was a little girl and which have accompanied me on 10 moves in 36 years. There's a package of unused Christmas wrapping paper. More cobwebs and dust bunnies than I care to claim. Life's clutter.

I had meant to keep a running record of this huge odyssey in my life. I had thought I'd find time to put down my thoughts and feelings at least a few times per week. I've thought a lot of things these past couple of months. But I'm finding there's too much cluttering up my head as well as my closets and shelves. My head is a jumble of fractured fragments...of things to do that are forgotten almost as soon as they're thought of. Of loose ends that need to be taken care of. Things I need to get set up in Michigan so our transition there goes as smoothly as possible. Car insurance, home insurance, change of address, change of internet and TV service. Change, change, change. Nothing seems to stand still.

And yet, as things spiral around me in a whirlwind of activity, I feel myself in the calm of the storm. I begin to feel myself get stressed and then I think, "What's there to worry about?" Every single step of the way, every little detail, every big detail, has fallen right into place. Every bump in the road, every glitch...they seem to just smooth out and it's onward and forward. No looking back. People keep saying to me as I say more and more goodbyes the closer we come to our departure date, "You'll be back for visits!" I don't know that I will. I have this feeling deep inside that when I board that jet and head east, this part of my life will be behind me. I will treasure the memories, the friendships, the beauty of Oregon, the life I lived here....but the future lies ahead of me and that's where my focus is set now. My new home, my new city. I want to go. I want it done. I want to get on with it.

Where we love is home, Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts. ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Shaniko, Oregon

Life in Oregon is beginning to shut down. Final farewells are becoming a part of life. More each week. There is a bittersweetness to every place we go now, knowing it will probably be the last time we'll visit it in our lifetime. Each person, each place...it's like a new tick on Life's Checklist. One more down. Less to go. Closure.

Since visiting Michigan two weeks ago with my daughter-in-law for a long weekend of whirlwind house hunting...since finding the house that's looking - more likely- each day to become our new home...I feel myself drawing further away from life here, yearning more for what's awaiting us 2300 miles away. I find myself imagining thru the day where I might place this piece of furniture, that piece, in our new home. I see myself re-landscaping the yard to what I love...where I might hang a wind chime or two, which window I'll place the bird feeder near. I imagine my grandsons and me out walking the new streets, discovering new 'treasures', getting acquainted with our new surroundings. I'll have a new kitchen window to gaze out of as I wash my daily dishes. A new view of the four seasons changing. I'll wait to hear Dear Hubby's truck pull into a driveway at the end of the day instead of seeing it pull up to the curb in front of our house here. I will see new birds at the feeder. I'll need to get a book on native birds of the region to identify them for Dylan and Cooper. I'll find out how long it will take me to feel comfortable inside, moving around in the dark. I'm sure I'll wake up in the middle of the nite, not knowing where I'm at for a few moments. I'll be getting used to new 'settling' sounds as the house embraces me and takes me in. I will feel the ghosts of the family who built it and raised a family there, who so lovingly cared for their home. And I will love and care for it, too.

It is a wonderful feeling to know you're in the center of God's will in your life. It's a remarkable experience to sit back and let God work things out in His way, not interfering and being content to let things flow as they will. To see His wisdom in how He takes care of every little detail that comes along in such a monumental undertaking, completely establishing a life for us so far from here. There is no fear. There is no anxiety. It is in God's hands, and God makes no mistakes.

And as each door closes behind us there is a deep peace. A settled peace. Closure.

Homeward Bound....I wish I was homeward bound....

I don't know how to start writing tonite. I don't know if I even remember how to write. My mind is so fractured and full and spilling over. I can hardly keep a cohesive thought in my head. My focus is non-existent. My daughter-in-law and I flew back to Detroit last Thursday and spent 3 whirlwind days house hunting with Bill the Real Estate Guy. A wonderful man who was so friendly, so funny, and so charming. He and I got along like a house afire and my d-i-l spent a lot of time in the back seat laughing at us. She texted my daughter, "I never knew your mom was so goofy!" My daughter texted back, "Yup. This is what I grew up with." Do I take that as an insult or a compliment?! Haha! Actually, the two of us had a great time together. I think we viewed something like 30 houses? But we finally found two that we like, within a mile of each other and only about 10 minutes from work for everyone. Dear Hubby and I are putting in an offer on Monday and we'll see where it goes. He told me as he was leaving for work that Thursday morning, "I hope you find the house of your dreams back there. You deserve it." No wonder I love the man. As long as he has a room to tinker in and to put all his hunting gear and trophies....which he will...and a place in the yard to target shoot with his longbow...which he will... he doesn't care about any of the other details. He told me wherever we've lived in these 36 years together I've always made it home...and he knows I'll do the same with this one as well.

This is the house I found. This is the house I love. This, I hope, will become home.

If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it. ~ Toni Morrison

Well, it's official now. The refrigerator magnets are all packed away. We really must be moving! All the art work and photos are boxed up. All but two of my house plants are gone, given to friends who I know will give them good homes. The glass, porcelain, and china objects from my curio and china cabinets are all lovingly wrapped up and carefully tucked away, with hopes they'll survive the 2300 mile trek 2/3 of the way across America to their new home. Which hasn't even been looked at in person, let alone bought and ready for occupancy. But that should soon change. My daughter-in-law and I are flying out of Portland around 6 am in the morning to go house hunting for a few days together. Wish us luck, not only in finding homes but also luck with the weather so we don't face all kinds of delays or, perish the thought, cancellations!

I thought when we began this amazing odyssey to Michigan that I'd find the time to blog about it and update at least halfway regularly. Well, obviously that hasn't been happening. Too much to do and too little time to do it in. It's looking more likely we'll be moving in the first part of February. We're trying to prepare our house to put it on the market as well as sort and purge and pack. As well as taking care of my grandsons 55 hours per week. As well as trying to find time to see beloved friends and family one last time before our day of departure. I feel like my sinuses are made of sponge, I've done so much crying in the past few weeks. I've always considered myself pretty strong when it comes to emotions but when you're confronted with realizing that a lot of these goodbyes are probably final ones with a lot of people...well, it's a lot to take in. With the threat of gas prices reaching $5 per gallon in the not-too-distant future, it will be a real sacrifice for any one to come or go. When we're finally in Michigan, we're finally in Michigan. Very sobering.

But still....even so....we truly feel we're doing the right thing for so many reasons, many of which I don't feel like indulging in public. Suffice it to say we're very comfortable with our decision and can see the Lord working it out, every step of the way.

I had lunch with a very dear friend on Sunday, my lunch lady buddy Miss Ivona. We met in 1996 when we both first became lunch ladies for the Portland schools. We became instant friends. As we were talking I said to her, "Now, isn't this ironic? Isn't it the human condition? We may really like or love somebody for years but it isn't until we're faced with losing them, possibly forever, where we finally come forth and tell them how much they mean to us? How much we'll miss them?" She knew exactly what I was saying. And we never did say goodbye to each other. She said if we don't see each other here again on earth we'll see each other in eternity where we'll be lunch ladies together again feeding all the baby angels. Oh, I do LOVE that woman!

And so a new chapter starts tomorrow, finding homes. I am excited and full of anticipation as we prepare to step out into our futures. As much as I've loved this old house we've lived in for the past 28 years, like my daughter said the other day, with everything coming down off the walls, the boxes stacked all over everywhere, "It doesn't really feel like home any more, Mom."

No, it doesn't.

But when those things go back up on the walls, back on the refrigerator, when my bird feeder is hung outside a window and new birds I've never seen before perch to eat, when my grandsons come rushing in to stay with me in our new house...well, it will begin to feel like home.

I truly believe that.

Home is where the heart is.

I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes. ~ Sara Teasdale

'Tis the morning after Christmas and all thru the house everyone is sleeping except me. It's taking me forever to get over a bronchial cold bug that's been hanging on for over a week now and when I woke up around 1 am I felt that ominous tickle in my throat that meant a coughing jag was coming up so I slipped out of bed and came out here to the computer. No need to interfere with Dear Hubby's sleep. It's one of those nites where you wake up completely awake and know sleep is going to elude you until morning. I used to lay there and toss and turn, but I learned years ago not to fight it. I just get up and read or write on here. I actually end up being less tired than if I toss restlessly the rest of the nite.

Christmas....what can I say about our last one here? Not one of our more stellar celebrations. We enjoyed our time with our kids and grandkids and spent most of the day over at our son's house. Late in the morning we went to Dear Hubby's mother's for his family get together. We received some great news.....our son's lifelong best friend texted him during the morning to let him know that that their new daughter was being born....a Christmas baby! Thrilling news! And when I came on Facebook a little while ago there were two notifications that Kealalehua had arrived safely and she and mom are doing great. Isn't there something so thrilling about a new life, even when it's not directly related to you? Tho we've known her daddy forever...so she almost feels like ours. Sad news, too....a close family member has a recurrence of cancer and the prognosis isn't good. And of course it was our last Christmas in Oregon.


I can't begin to tell you what a huge upheaval this move is causing in all our lives, how our grandsons are affected. I can't tell you how hard it is to say goodbye to everyone, knowing that some of them I may never see again. But the future looks so bright, too....if only we could get going and get started on it. That's the hardest part, this limbo land we're stuck in at the moment. But even that is starting to move along. Later this morning my daughter and I are going to tackle her room, sorting and purging and getting bags ready for the Goodwill. Next weekend will be nothing but purging and packing as well. And the weekend after that my daughter-in-law and I are flying to Detroit to spend a few days looking over Livonia and house hunting. After that....only a few more weeks and we should be setting out on our odyssey.

This is all so surreal.