Roots

On Wednesday, Sarah was the very first person to use our very own personal key to unlock our very own personal house.




We then took the new house tour.





Sarah in her room.


Steve "stepping it off" to see how big her room is. Steve is uniquely qualified to step things off because his feet are exactly one foot long. And since he does have feet that are one foot long, if he were to eat a foot long hot dog, he would be "the man with the one foot long feet eating a foot long!" What a feat! (Yes, my brain is tired. Why do you ask? )



After awhile, Sarah informed that she was going to be the first person to use the bathroom in the new house. I said, "Would you like me to take a picture?"

This is the look I got.


So that was Wednesday.



Yesterday, the real work began. The Big Moving Guys arrived and started unloading 13,000 pounds of stuff. (And yes, that is the actual verified amount.)

So with all that stuff to deal with, why is this woman smiling?

I was smiling because it was still early in the day and I wasn't yet in a box-befuddled state of mind.






The befuddlement is starting to settle in.



And then I stopped smiling altogether shortly after I took a long look at all the boxes and more boxes. And more boxes. And more and more boxes. Have I made myself clear that were a lot of boxes? Because there were. A lot of boxes. A lot of lot of boxes.



The boxes overwhelmed both sides of my small brain.



Oh look! More boxes! May I go lie down now?




And even when there were no boxes readily visible, there was still Stuff To Be Done. Oh my aching back. Oh my aching brain.


About halfway through the day, the three Big Mover Guys realized that Nathan's queen sized box spring would not go up the stairs. (The stairs turn halfway up so it's a bit of a tight fit.) Steve's and my king sized bed went up for reasons I don't (as a woman) readily understand. Something about the king sized bed bending? I really don't know. I'm still zoned out in Box World and cannot think clearly about most things.

The Three Big Mover Guys pondered the immovable box spring conundrum for quite some time and finally came up with . . . well, not much. One guy said he and his partner have been moving furniture for eight years and had never before come up against this sort of problem.

Enter my husband. The man who thinks outside the box as a matter of course. He came up with a plan (which of course my box-befogged brain does not understand) having to do with taking the box spring partially apart so that it could bend more. And it made it with less than 1/4 inch to spare!



In this picture, I do realize the guys are carrying a mattress and not a box spring upstairs but it was the only picture I could come up with.



When Steve wasn't busy reconfiguring box springs, he launched into the scrubbing of the floor. The place where our washer and dryer was supposed to go was quite dirty and since we had no mop (and since I can't get on the floor without having to have a crane come in to get me back up) Steve spent twenty minutes cleaning the floor the old fashioned way. Is he a keeper, or what?



In light of all the boxes and mess that currently inhabit our lives, we are ever so thankful to have another (well ordered and lovely) place to go to for sleeping and eating purposes. If we'd had to sleep in that house last night with chaos reigning supreme, I may have been pushed over the edge into Box Induced Insanity. (And believe me, that would not be pretty.)

As it is, we can rest in a chaos-less place and then attack the boxes in a refreshed state every morning. In fact, we're going to be heading over there again today in a few minutes and will probably spend 10 or 12 hours working. I'd better have lots of chocolate to keep my spirits up!

We know that we are really going to love this house and especially love Smithifying it. Our only drawback at the moment is that we can't do any improvements to it since we're just renting it until our house in Smithfield sells. The house desperately needs carpet--the carpet is very old and very blue and we have absolutely no blue furnishings. It also needs to be painted on the second and third floors. (The third floor is the bonus room where Sarah's bedroom is.)

So in the meantime, we'll just move in and close our eyes to the very scratched walls and the very worn out carpet. And then when each small improvement comes along, we'll just appreciate it all the more!

And speaking of appreciating something, on Wednesday after the three of us had spent several hours at the house unloading our two vehicles and putting stuff away, we went back to our borrowed cottage to try to muster up enough energy to fix something for a late lunch. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and two ladies from the church walked in bearing an entire meal! Hurray!

And then last night after our very long day of moving, another family in the church brought homemade beef stew, rice, homemade bread and a made-from- scratch chocolate meringue pie.

The three of us gulped that meal down as though we hadn't eaten in days. It was exactly the right kind of food to eat at the end of an exhausting day--delicious, comfort food. The family also brought two other meals to eat later on when we don't have time (or energy) to cook. We are just overwhelmed by such thoughtfulness and generosity.

It is quite a privilege to be putting down roots here in Manteo and every box we unload digs the roots a little deeper.

And that's a very good thing.

A Moving Pictorial And The Degrees of Fragility

Today I'll a few photos from the last couple of days before the moving truck arrives and we start the (happy, tiring, overwhelming, invigorating) unloading process.

Speaking of the moving truck, I had posted on Facebook yesterday a question about whether or not it was appropriate to tip movers and if so, how much. Among the very helpful responses I got was one from my big brother, Tim, which made me laugh out loud. (Which is kind of a startling thing to do early in the morning.)

He wrote, "I've heard that if you push them really hard when they are not looking you have a pretty good chance of tipping them. Much like cows."

Thanks for the laugh, Tim!

Okay. Photos. Now.


On Monday we ate our last family meal in our Smithfield home.




We had lasagna from the leftovers I froze after the wonderful ladies from the church cooked for our family last week.

We also had "cheese rounds," which are simply leftover refrigerated biscuits that didn't get eaten up the first time around. I throw them into the freezer for a rainy day (or a moving day) and then thaw them, slice them, butter them, sprinkle them with garlic salt, add a little cheddar (or you can leave the cheddar off, Sue) and broil a couple minutes. Simple and yummy. And a great use of leftovers.

After dinner, Sarah and I (and Snowy) climbed into our big bed for our last night of reading in Smithfield.




And speaking of "lasts, here's Snowy in my last picture of him in the house.


Nathan and Meagan during an "almost last" picture on Thanksgiving Day.



Steve said a last good-bye to a radio controlled airplane he built and flew years ago.




And I said a last good bye to a songwriting trophy I won a long time ago at a national songwriting conference. Both the plane and the trophy went to the curb with the trash. (And don't ask me why I have such a strange expression on my face because I don't know.)



(Note: The trophy was for second place in a sub category of songwriting so it wasn't terribly near and dear to me. In 2000, when I won Grand Prize for songwriting--across all categories-- I received a trophy that I will never get rid of. It was such an honor for me to win something like on a national level.)

But I digress. Back to moving we go . . .

The morning that the movers arrived, I decided to go ahead and bake a frozen pizza since sliced pizza in baggies is easier to transport than a big ol' pizza in a box. Sarah happened to come downstairs about then and I said, "Sarah, since it's our last morning here, would you like pizza for breakfast?"

Can you guess her answer?





Okay. Your assignment at this very moment is to gaze at the following photos and be thankful you're not in the middle of a move!












Also be thankful that you didn't slice your finger like I did while using the Big Macho Businesslike Tape Dispenser. I usually used the more feminine and genteel dispenser . . .





. . . but alas, at the moment of the finger slicing, the Big Macho Businesslike Tape Dispenser was the only one around.





Nothing like packing a hundred boxes with a finger that hurts and keeps bursting out into bounteous bleeding at any given moment. I kept on putting on Band-aids and they kept falling off. I was a pitiful little ol' Mangled Moving Mama.





I had to laugh when I saw this box. We had instructed Sarah to clearly mark anything that was fragile; she obviously decided to deem this box as "slightly fragile." Nothing like a writer to concentrate on the degrees of fragility contained in the packing of boxes.





And a few more . . .





















Outside the house, waiting to pull away for the last time.









And finally, this is is the sight that greeted us when we went to our house yesterday afternoon (between naps and doses of Tylenol) to move a few things in that we had brought in our van and car. The wonderful people in our church strike again!




I love this photo since it shows a reflection in the glass of the three people who will be doing the memory making!


Later on, I'll be posting pictures and stories from a new home and a new chapter of life.

_________________________

Comments and Questions:

Michelle, thanks for the compliment about the highlights in my hair. Nothing like a nice thick mustache to bring out a lady's hair color. And yes, I did have a recent hair cut; thanks for noticing.

Also, Ann asked if our new church has a website. No they don't but we would like to get one going soon.

Thanks for stopping by!

The Move And The Mustache

If I have ever been more tired in my entire life, I really cannot remember when. And when I say tired, I mean bone crunchingly, mind numbingly, muscle achingly exhausted.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired?

The three moving guys arrived yesterday at 10 am and the six of us worked (with just one brief break for lunch) until 6:30 pm. And when I say "worked," I mean non stop bending, moving, stair climbing, lifting, taping, box packing, crouching, reaching and twisting. (I burned so many calories I now weigh just 23 pounds.)

I actually took some pictures but--guess what? I can't find my camera cord. I think it's actually out in the van somewhere but I don't have the courage to go look for it because I'm afraid it might require additional moving and bending.

We spent last night in Manteo (got to bed a little before 11) and had originally planned to unload the truck today. However, with the combination of rain in the forecast and the fact that neither Steve or I are able to walk two steps without moaning and saying "ouch," we aren't going to unload the truck until tomorrow.

We'll spend a while today recuperating and then later on, we'll go over to our house and wander around for a while. It will be the first time to be in there with just our family and we will enjoy soaking in the Smithness of it all.

We brought quite a lot of stuff in our van and car so we might unload some of that later if we happen to find a reserve store of energy somewhere. Also, Steve is speaking for the Wednesday night service tonight, so he'll be getting prepared for that.

In the meantime, it will be rest, rest, and more rest. And lots of Tylenol. And lots of groaning. And "ouching." And remembering that I am middle aged. And also remembering that I never, ever want to move again. Ever.

Have I mentioned that I am tired?

_____________________________

Quick note: I won't go into all the reasons but for a while at least, I have turned on the comment moderation function of this site. That just means that comments won't appear until they have been moderated. By the moderator. Which would be me!

As always, I love hearing from you and am so grateful for all of you who take the time to comment. You make my entire day.

___________________________________


As for the pictures below? All I can say in my defense is that I was so busy packing for our move, I didn't have any time left over to spend on waxing.






Like mother, like son. (Nathan had just gotten out of the shower which is why he is rather shirt-less.)

Unscrambled Synapses And Friends

Today is The Day. Today is Moving Day. In four hours, one large truck and three large (and strong) guys will pull up in front of our house and start loading mattresses, macaroni and memories.

Are we all done packing? Ha. I think not. I know not. I am quite sure not.

So why am I sitting here at the computer instead of packing a box? Well, it's simply because the packing side of my brain is empty and the writing side of my brain is full. If I pack a box instead of write a post, my brain will tip over to one side and its contents will be redistributed into a morass of muddlement and befuddlement and my snapses will become scrambled which would thereby cause me to never again be capable of writing another post or packing another box.

(Did you get all that? Good.)

The moving company estimates it will take five to six hours to load everything so we'll be getting into Manteo near bedtime. Thankfully, we don't have to sleep in the new house tonight; another dose of chaos is not what my soul currently needs. (We'll spend the night in the cottage we've stayed at over the past two months.)

In the morning, the moving guys will return to unload everything into the new house and THEN real chaos will hit! But at least it will be fun chaos, because we'll be putting things away instead of packing them up. Which is a whole lot more enjoyable.

If I have any unscrambled synapses remaining by that time.

___________________________

Last week, Meagan's family traveled from Florida to North Carolina to spend Thanksgiving with their extended family who happen to live just twenty miles from our house.

Since we don't get to see the Hawleys as often as we'd like, we invited them over for lunch (homemade soup and rolls), even though we were in the throes of chaotic mayhem of the packing variety.

Usually I have a lovely table set for people coming to eat at our home. However, on Friday, this is what the Hawley family got.


Oh well! While the surroundings weren't lovely, the company sure was.

From left to right:

Meagan, Sarah, Kristen (Meagan's older sister) Frank (Meagan's Dad) Steve, Becky, Sheri (Meagan's Mom) Amanda (a Hawley friend and staff member at their church) and Nathan.





After lunch, Sheri and I sat in the dining room and talked, the younger folks went upstairs and the men repaired to the living room to engage in an important and life-enhancing activity.


Now don't be fooled by the placidity of the pictures you have just seen. Believe me when I tell you that the Hawleys are NOT a placid family. They are full of the zippiest vim and the most energetic vigor you have ever seen.

A case in point would be Nathan's 20th birthday party which we had in September at the Hawley's house in Florida. The following video highlights various versions of the birthday song we performed for the guest of honor. (In addition to the people in the earlier picture, you'll also see Meagan's sister Joy and Joy's husband, John.)

There now. Wasn't that fun?

While I'm still on the subject of the Hawleys, let me just say a word or two about my dear friend, Sheri. She is an incredibly gifted public speaker, writer, and ordained minister; she also co-pastors a church with Frank in Winter Haven, FL.

If you happen to be searching for a far-above-average speaker for a ladies' event, revival meeting, church service or conference, Sheri is the one to call. I have heard her speak in a variety of settings (including our former church in Smithfield) and have never known her to do anything less than stellar job. Sheri is a spiritually sensitive, accomplished and funny speaker who always has something worthwhile to say. (E-mail me at smithellaneous@yahoo.com for contact info.)

To give you a glimpse of her gift with words, click on the link below to read an article she wrote. Is it any wonder Meagan is so wonderful with a mom like Sheri?
Embrace the Grace

Between the Miscellaneous And The Memories

It's 8:34 am.

By a conservative estimate, I have at least 126 more hours of packing to do before the moving truck arrives tomorrow morning. So why am I sitting here writing a blog?

Good question.

However. Since I'm already here and since I've already decided that the packing will never, ever get done--not in this life nor in the life to come--I figure I might as well just go ahead and ignore it.

In fact that has become my new Life Philosophy, "If Ya Don't Like It, Ignore It!"

(I'll let you know how that works out for me.)

Since I was working so diligently last week pretending that the packing job did not exist, I was especially thankful that Nathan and Meagan were home so they could at least get his room whipped into shape. They spent many long hours in there and did a tremendous job. (Thanks for your efficient and fun help, Meagan!)

When they had gotten it all finished, I had to smile (and shed a tear) when I walked down the hall and happened upon this box.




And then when I saw this box, I smiled even bigger because I realized that Nathan and Meagan had made the important discovery that at some point in the packing journey, there comes a time when you run across a bunch of stuff that doesn't fit into any category, any box, or any special spot. Therefore, it is very important to establish the all important "miscellaneous" category. If you don't, you will go absolutely stark raving mad. Which I've already done. So it's too late for me. But maybe I can save someone else from the same fate.




Eventually, between the miscellaneous and the memories, Nathan's room got packed.

And eventually, the time came him for him and Meagan to leave this house for the very last time. Ever.

Since I don't have any words in my awesome adjective arsenal to describe the feelings that were engendered by that particular event, I'll let my pictures say the thousand words for me.

Nathan leaving the kitchen and walking into the garage. For the last time.



Meagan joining him in the garage. For the last time.



Smithfield hugs ensuing. For the last time.



And yet even more Smithfield hugs ensuing. For the last time.



Waving good-bye as Nathan and Meagan pulled away from our house. For the last time.

My child has left the house of his growing up years behind.

And in the wake of his leaving, my heart is filled with the bittersweet melody of the miscellaneous and the memories.