Holiday Hacienda

Yay!  My laptop is alive!  The camera is a little blurry, but it would be asking too much for everything to function perfectly at once, right?  Anyway, here is a little peek into our desert Christmas.

Last month I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get into the Christmas Spirit without snow or cozy sweaters.  But it's amazing how 72 degree sunshine can put you in the ho-ho-holiday mood.  I love running all my errands without a bulky coat.  I love shooing the kids outside while I play Mrs. Claus indoors.

I love my Christmas cards!  Just looking at my photogenic friends and family puts me in the holliest, jolliest mood ever.  You know what I think when I look at this wall?  I think, If I died tomorrow, these are the people who would care.  Is that weird?  I find it vaguely comforting.  

Unpacking the Santas and little forest of Christmas trees, I felt like I was reuniting with old friends.  They help make our new house feel a little more like home.

The train is circling the living room tree, but I'm finding my little engineers aren't quite as captivated with the chugga-chugging this year.  Sad.

And the Tooth Fairy finally made a stop at Luke's pillow!  All he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth.  And a Bakugan.  And a plasma car.  And Rock Band.  And a puppy...

Yeehaw

Our new hometown is one part Southern California and one part Laramie, Wyoming.

Last night, we hitched up our britches, pulled on our boots and headed to our first-ever rodeo.

Cute cowgirls,

hotdoggies and chili,

country music, pony rides and chicken chasing.   

Giddyup!

Not Good, Not Bad, Just Different: Old vs. New

It's been four months since our little minivan rolled out of a Philadelphia suburb and followed the sun to the Grand Canyon State. Hard to believe, we've already had a quarter of a year to get used to life in the wild, wild West. It's a bigger adjustment than I expected.

Although both Brad and I grew up west of the Mississippi, it is amazing how a dozen adult years along the Atlantic Seaboard turned us into a pair of East Coast snobs.

Now that we have returned to our western roots, we've experienced just a wee bit of culture shock. Some changes have been wonderful (My car actually fits in the garage!) and some not so much (Really? This is the best bagel place in town?).

But, like my dad always taught us kids when traveling to new places, "Remember differences aren't good. They aren't bad. They're just different."

I'm trying to teach my kids the same lesson...and remind myself, too.

Here's one of the biggest differences between living in the Northeast and living in the Southwest... Old versus New.

Every fifth grader knows that Pennsylvania was one of the original 13 colonies. So we got used to old. Historical landmarks and places steeped in tradition. A little crumbly around the edges, sometimes. But charmingly so.

Arizona, on the other hand, was the last continental state admitted to the Union. There's not a lot of old stuff here. Plus, it doesn't rain much, so things don't get damp or dingy. A little dusty, maybe, but no moldy oldies. Our kids have all noticed that the cars here all look new and shiny. Everything here seems new and shiny.

I like new and I like shiny, within reason. In places like the gym or the post office or the grocery store, newness is a very good thing. I love the fact that our new dentist's office and hair salons are space-age and gleaming.

But my heart absolutely aches for beautiful old churches, historical homes, and century-old cemeteries. Driving around a whole bunch of pre-planned neighborhoods and strip malls all day can feel pretty soulless sometimes.

Back in PA, most everyone we knew lived in older homes. All our friends were remodeling or updating or ripping out old wallpaper. A couple years ago, every home in our neighborhood turned 30 and every family in the development got a new roof for Christmas or Hannukkah.

In our new stomping grounds, most houses are less than 5 years old. Everything smells like new paint. Travertine and stainless and hand-scraped wood surfaces shimmer. Nothing is stained or cracked or broken in.

It's fun to walk through all the bright new spaces, but sometimes I have a really, really, really hard time not breaking the Tenth Commandment. Today I took the kids to a birthday party and, while they ricocheted through the inflatable slides and bouncehouses, I wandered the Tommy Bahama-themed backyard and patio turning every shade of green.

That's the main problem, I think with new. It is addictive. A new house calls for new furniture, new appliances, new accessories. New. New. New. And soon, the new stuff is old and you have to start all over again.

But old has its problems too. Progress happens for a reason. I mean, who wants to live without air conditioning or Netflix these days? Not me.

And so, this cross-country adventure has reminded me about the importance of honoring the old while still embracing the new. I'm looking for new friendships and new favorite lunch spots, trying not to miss dear old friends and places too much.

It's tough, sometimes. But it's not good. It's not bad. It's just different.

I'll Know I'm a Native When...

...I can wear dark wash jeans in triple digit temperatures.

...I don't keep circling the parking lot, looking for nonexistent shade.

...I get the hang of using all my major appliances during "energy saving" hours.

...I can pronounce Spanish words other than salsa and guacamole.

...I can actually find a location after people say things like "It's on the SE corner of Alma School and Baseline."

...I don't get overexcited about spotting hummingbirds, quail and lizards.

...I can squeeze myself a glass of grapefruit juice from a tree in my own backyard.

We've survived our first August! Maybe I'm a native already...

Promise

Blogging, right now, is kind of like the pretty round bronzed mirror that looked so good in the entry of our old house but is now sitting dustily on a stack of cardboard boxes. I love it. I miss it. But I'm just not quite sure where it fits in the new place.

I have many blog-able thoughts and moments during the course of my day, but I haven't quite figured out when and how to get them all down.

My days are so busy right now. I don't know why. So many of the things that used to take up my time--half-day kindergarten, early morning Seminary, driving along winding, country roads to get anywhere--are no longer part of my routine. I've found a handful of new friends, but my social calendar is still pretty empty.

I guess it's the four kid thing that keeps me hopping. When they're around, they need food and help with homework and (unfortunately) a whole lot of sibling refereeing. When they aren't around, I'm buying their food, washing their clothes and making copies on the Riso machine for their teachers.

And what's taking up the rest of my time? As Dr. Seuss might put it... "Oh the house. Oh the house. Oh the house, house, house, house. That's the one thing she's doing. The house, house, house, house."

New houses are a lot of work. I have to keep reminding myself that Rome wasn't built in a day and that it took years before I was happy with all the paint colors and window treatments in our old place. We went ages without a finished basement and eons before Brad built the back patio. In fact, it was not the house of my dreams at all until we put it on the market last spring.

But, in my old age, I'm a lot less patient. I know how I want things to look. And I want them to look that way. Now. I drive myself a little crazy. Hanging things up, taking things down. Buying things. Returning things. And I'm still learning my way around town, so usually each errand takes twice as long as it should. See? Low-stress and inexpensive and eco-friendly!

Brad has been extremely patient with this whole nesting process. I mean, let's face it. The guy, if left to his own devices, would live in a house with one MASSIVE tv and a lone, comfortable (but hideous) black leather chair. A bed with a mattress so firm it'd need a medical prescription with no designer throw pillows. The walls would all be white without a single nail hole or picture hook to be found. There would be no toile in his world.

So, Babe, this post is dedicated to you and your generosity of spirit (and checkbook). I promise once all the drawer pulls are installed and the curtains hung, I will return to my former low-key, easy-going self. Yes, really.

Also, I promise, more blogging. More often. I miss it.

My Take

On exercise at age 40:

I am DONE with exercise I do not enjoy. Life is too short to spend any more time with you, Mr. Stairmaster. Same to you Dr. Elliptical. We are through.

Because what's the point of exercising for longevity if you keep looking at the Minutes Remaining and wishing you could die?

Hello, Zumba. Hello, Body Pump. Hello, Spin. Hello, Early Morning Walks in the Gorgeous Desert Sunshine. You make me happy.

On having all four kids in school all day:

I will not lie. I have mixed feelings. Some days I love it and feel like I'm getting away with something almost criminal. The mall? By myself? And I don't have to bribe anyone with a free balloon or an extra spin on the escalator? Other days I miss having little buddies around. I miss being needed in that non-stop little kid way.

People, of course, have asked, But what do you do all day? Well. Same things I used to do all day: Clean the kitchen. Go to the gym. Grocery shop. Pile after pile of dirty laundry. Errands and phone calls. Help at school. The difference now is I get to listen to whatever I want in the car and I have no excuse to stop for an ice cream cone.

Together time.(Nimmy...this living room shot is for YOU. Don't worry, I got new lamps.)

The downside of having everyone gone at once, is that everyone is home at once. There is no one-on-one (or two-on-one, in our case) time together and I DO miss that. Everyone is home and at their hungriest and neediest. And, of course, I am usually hungry and needy too.

My kids still need me. Just in a different way. It's just gonna take some getting used to.

On living in Arizona at this historic moment in time:

I feel like I should have a stronger opinion. But, the truth is, I can really see a lot of different sides to the issue. My goal is to get more educated.

In the short time we've lived here, though, I have found the population to be very friendly and welcoming. There are all shades and varieties of people coexisting nicely and acting like grown-ups. That seems like a good sign.

On settling into a new house:

We have cleared away most of the moving-in mess. Which is good. Because now we have all of the regular everyday living-in mess. And I can only handle so much mess.

Moving into a new place means re-evaluating every "system" in your life and re-ordering each one. The laundry system. Where will the dirty clothes go? What's the best place for the dryer sheets? The homework system. How many private study places do we need? Where are they? Why do the kids need to sharpen brand new pencils down to nothing? I find it enjoyable and exhausting.

Here is one of our study areas. In its former life, it was a family room wet-bar. But I learned in our old house that I don't like "wet" and "family" in the same room, if you know what I mean. So the sink is out. New countertops, drawers and pencils are in. A+ for Effort, right?!

The thing about this house is that it is going to take some living-in to get really comfortable. New sheets, new jeans, new houses may look great right out of the package, but to feel great, they need a little wear. (Remind me of this fact after someone lets a pen leak on the new slipcovers or the carpet meets a root beer float, ok?)

On Axe deodorant and shampoo:

I am glad products exist that make my eleven-year-old excited about personal hygiene. I like the instructions on the bottle that say Wash. Attract. Repeat. Along with a cartoon picture of a guy meeting a girl.

However, all four men in the household have been using Axe for a week now and, to date, no women have been attracted. As far as I can tell.

Storms and Calm

Last week, Mother Nature officially welcomed us to the Valley of the Sun.

We had been prepared for triple-digit temps, sunburns, parched lips. We hadn't, however, realized we were moving in during the heart of Monsoon Season.

The grill was blowing around the back patio like an old roller skate. I took this photo while hollering at Brad to get out there and DO SOMETHING! Also, our cabinet guys were at my side, laughing hysterically, and saying "Welcome to Arizona." Nice.

I'd heard about Monsoons before and was skeptical. But now? I believe.

Monsoons are like huge Nor'easters in the desert. They come out of nowhere and turn the sky all kinds of crazy colors. The winds are so strong they snap trees, frightening small children and their 40-year-old mothers.

There was so much water that our street became the after-storm swimming hole. It was a good ice-breaker. My kids met a whole gang of new friends as they paddled along in the rainwater.

In other, less stormy, news...

the kids started school last Monday!

It felt sick and wrong to drop them all off at school in the middle of July.

But only one of us cried...me.

The children have adjusted beautifully.

I was very concerned about the quality of schools here. I mean, that's what the East Coast is known for, right? Italian restaurants and great schools. How could anything measure up?

However, we've been very pleasantly surprised. Schools are definitely more casual here. (Teachers in flip flops and tank tops? Cool.) But the curriculum is challenging, similar to our old school district. The teachers have been very friendly and well-organized. All the kids are happy.

Jake is being mainstreamed all day into a regular sixth-grade classroom and it's going so well I could just cry. I wish I had known, way back during his blustery kindergarten days, that there really would be so many sunny moments in his future.

But I really, truly do appreciate the calm all the more after a storm.

We're Here, It's Hot and I've Been Yelling at my Kids All Day

Moving to Arizona in the middle of July is not for wimps.

And I guess I didn't realize how wimpy I truly am. But it's too late. Now, the only way out is through.

We got to the new place Wednesday morning and have spent the past two days sorting, unpacking, organizing and looking for the cricket chirping loudly in our kitchen. Somewhere.

The house is awesome. Now that the dust has settled on our remodeling projects and a few of our old favorites are out of their boxes, I can see what a great place this will be for our family. It might not have as much charm as our old place, but what it lacks in historic character it makes up in roominess, closet space and new carpet smell. So fun to have everything brand new!

I vowed not to go shopping until I had boxes unpacked, but today I just had to pick up a few basic essentials, like milk and Mentholatum (helps nostrils acclimate to dry heat), so I headed to the Fry's right around the corner.

Sixty minutes and $200 later, I emerged from Fry's with a serious case of ADHD. That store sells everything. Produce, dairy, patio furniture, pots and pans. Of course I totally forgot to pick up milk, but Sam and I did enjoy some quality time with Cliff from the garden center who educated us in the basics of desert gardening. And helped me pick out my first cacti! On sale!

The kids have really been pretty good. I just get annoyed when they start begging for lunch while I am trying to make important decisions like where to put the drinking glasses. (Above the dishwasher for easy unloading? Or next to the fridge for quick beverage access?) Leave me alone, hungry munchkins, drinking glasses save lives.

We've met two neighbors and the RS President brought dinner. Other than that, I love being anonymous. Knowing you won't run into anyone at the grocery store (except maybe Cliff from the garden center) is true freedom.

Pictures coming soon! Promise!