We have finally finished hucking all of our everything to the new house, just ten blocks from our old place. As of yesterday, we are officially moved. I had never moved like this before– a whole family’s worth of shit. I was packing and taking over a car load a day or more during the last week, then on the 31st we rented a 17 ft truck and did two trips full of furniture. I was completely tapped by the end of that day. I haven’t felt so thoroughly exhausted since that 3rd day after my last birth when I decided it would be okay to take a 2 mile walk…
Holy crap, I had no idea we had that much stuff. How in the world did all that stuff fit into our old house? And more to the point, how exactly am I going to fit it into our new house????
I’ve put the bare minimum back together in the kitchen, but most of our 3,955 boxes are still looming Matterhorn style in the bedroom. Given the spare number of minutes I have in a day to tackle such extraneous projects, I fear it could be weeks before I finish.
Twice as much work as I would have thought, but still so worth it. This house is just fantastic. Funny, because if we had moved here first I would probably have been disappointed. It’s very plain. No soaring ceilings or rickety, charming 100 year old house feel. It’s just a solid brick house, built in the 60s. Ranch style, I guess.
But there are so many things I didn’t know before to appreciate about plain, practical houses. Bedrooms that don’t have to be walked through to get to the other end of the house. Floors that don’t bang like a drum when you walk. A laundry room– a room, instead of a broken down old shed falling off of the back of the house, with washer and dryer set up on pallets, and cockroaches skittering should you ever dare go to put a load in after dark.
But what really knocks my socks off is what’s outside the house. Again, you have to have lived boxed in to appreciate a front yard, a back yard, and a generous side patio stretching almost the full length of the property. Super bonus– the fourth side of the house, rather than smashing up against the fence line, has a full 6 foot wide alleyway/jungle. It would be a dream chicken run, but even short of that gives the most lovely, wild viney views to the windows along that side.
There’s lots of green growing things. Nothing edible of course, but nevertheless. I am learning to appreciate plants that you can’t eat… Two roses, a wisteria, a Japanese magnolia, a steadily advancing grove of bamboo in the back (why? why didn’t anybody tell them?), a few other intentional landscaping plants and a margin of jungley-ness on two sides. The property doesn’t look particularly big, but somehow it manages to have a little of everything, while still feeling open and spacious.
I feel this crazy bliss like I imagine people feel when they buy their dream home. Like it’s all just going to be sunny bubbles and peaches from now on. The possibilities of the future are so untainted.
Another movement toward the future is afoot. Right here, in my fingertips, in my glazing eyeballs, in my Squirrel Nutkin brain– click, click, clicking.
Erica from NW Edible has signed up to be my personal cheerleader over at Faceb**k, and claimed she had folks “clamoring to ‘like’ Apron Stringz,” and that I’d better get a page or else.
I resisted at first, I have a special hatred for FB. I in fact unsigned myself from it a few years ago. I had signed up (naively) to help coordinate a high school reunion, not knowing what I was getting myself into. To each their own, variety is the spice of life and all that, but I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to get “friend” requests from people I had barely known in the first place. As far as a way to keep in contact with the people I cared about, it was too shallow and bullshity. As for everyone else, I hate to sound cold, but it just wasted my time. I felt wicked having such rude thoughts but I have a very limited amount of time on the computer. I could write one decent email to a real friend, or seven bullhshit one liners to “friends.”
I feel like FB is just the extremity of our watered down, soundbite culture. Instead of a few meaningful relationships we scatter ourselves to the wind with 172 ‘what you watched on tv last nights’.
Starting to sound purty preachy for someone who just signed herself back up to the devil, don’t you think?
I have no doubt that some good stuff happens there. And I am taking it on faith that you lovely readers will point me in the direction of the cream. I am a hopeless renegade, I can’t help but fight tooth and nail what everyone else is doing. I often fight it without examination, on principle. Then at some point, when I stop baring my teeth long enough to get a good look, I realize I want in. And when I do, I jump feet first, often catching bystanders by surprise.
Make a big splash I always say.
I signed back up so that Apron Stringz could have a page and a place in the modern world. If this is the way folks get together now, then I’d better quit the bitching and get with the program! I like to think that all you far flung punk housewives who have found solace in my words can find solace in each other as well, out there in cyberspace. I used to ruthlessly ridicule such internet solidarity. But you know, I’ve grown up. It really does help to know you’re not the only whatever-you-are in the room.
I don’t know quite what y’all expect from this here FB page. I doubt I will have much time or energy to put into it myself. If I did, it would come at the expense of writing here in this space, and that would make me sad. I have come to relish writing here.
I imagine it more as a place where you readers can meet up and discuss the daily nuts and bolts of this lifestyle we’re trying for. Especially as a place for those of you who don’t have a blog to exercise your voice. We’ve all got something to say.
Speaking of which, anybody want to help administrate the group? I’m serious. Any FB savvy soul who might want to help out would be given a gold star.