Rest in Peace

On Dec. 21st Nani passed away. She was 89. She was one tough old New Englander who smoked a pack a day til the end. So tough that it wasn't her health that took her, but a fall. She raised seven kids. She loved the Red Sox. All the years I lived away from Boston, I could rely on Nani to send me clippings from the Herald updating me on the Sox. I'll miss those clippings next season. Thanks Nan, you are missed, but I'm glad for you. Glad you've moved on.

the route

It's been a crazy week filled with holiday celebrations, goodbyes, wrapping, unwrapping, Nani's funeral, the wedding of our good friends Gregg and Em, packing, cleaning, salvation army runs, etc. More on that later. For now, here's the itinerary. We leave Tuesday AM. First stop, Detroit.


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live free or die

This scary smart software engineer who visits my office when his eyes bug from staring at code too long just came to chat with me. We got to talking about New Hampshire.

New Hampshire- a rocky, detached, independently minded state- has been my home for the last seven years. Here's what I'll miss the most:

1. New Hampshire Toll Booth Operators: these people are awesome. Most often they're gritty New Englanders sporting bedazzled moose sweatshirts and/or Red Sox/Patriots gear. They're stoic. They're friendly. They're salty. I passed on the EZ Pass because I knew I'd miss seeing them. I can't explain it.

2. Coolest. State. Motto. Ever.

3. No State Income Tax or sales tax, yet awesome roads and decent schools.

4. Voting in the country's first primary election

5. The White Mountain National Forest: The hills that taught me to backpack. The hills that grew our first Christmas tree. The hills that paralyzed me in fear on my first snowboard descent of Tuckerman's Ravine.

6. The Seedling Cafe

Thanks, New Hampshire. Take care of yourself. Stay tough. Keep it simple. Whatever you do, don't turn into Massachusetts. I'll miss you.

Maya the Gear Hound

Sean and I have a ridiculous amount of gear for our various outdoor hobbies. Bikes, skis, snowboards, backpacks, tents and sleeping bags; gear comprises most of what we're taking to Washington. And now Maya the Dog has her own stuff.


Maya's Gear Cache:
1. Kelty Chuckwagon Dog Pack. We love this little pack. She carries her own food into the woods. And then she carries her own poop out.
2. Ruffwear CloudChaser Softshell Jacket. Okay, so it's more technical than anything I own myself. But she's skinny! She gets cold! And her little belly needs some protection from burrs and sticks. Yep, I'm the dog mom I never thought I'd be. I'm rolling my eyes at myself.
3. Tritronics Sport G3 Training Collar. This thing has totally changed our view on e-collars. Maya is MUCH happier and more relaxed since we've been training with it. It rules.
4. Planet Dog collar and leash in pink block. Her favorite things to wear on hot playdates with Zack-of-Small-Stature-but-Large-(ahem)Attitude and Willy the Crazy Vizla Puppy.
5. Her "formal" leash and 15 foot training lead.

She also has her bed, her crate, her own blankets, a whole box full of dog toys, dog treats, flea+tick meds, brushes, combs, nail clippers, shampoos, and our hearts.

Not bad for a little 'ol Alabama pound pooch...

be our guest....

Someone sent us this thing as a wedding gift straight from a Parisian antique shop. It reminds me of Lumiere from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Not exactly our style, Sean and I haven't quite known what to do with it other than refer to it in really bad french accents. We'd confusedly placed it in the "keep but don't take to La Conner" pile.

And then we lost power for two days in the New England ice storm.

Holy crap! The Candelabra can throw the wattage! It completely illuminated our entire apartment.

We have new respect for it. It is one rockin' substitute lamp.

Behold, fromagerie, poulet, oui, Candelabra!

We sold our bookshelves today...

Until today it sort of felt like the move wasn't really happening. Oh, sure, we've given our "official" notices. And yep, I confirmed that I'll be reporting to work in La Conner, WA at the end of January. But it hasn't felt real. Didn't feel real when I told my boss, hasn't felt real while answering questions from our family and friends about where we're headed and why. Didn't feel real when our beloved couch snuck onto craigslist and then walked out our door in the arms of its proud new owner.

I thought I loved that couch. But nope, nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion when the next lucky craigslister came to pick it up.

Today, however, we sold our bookshelves.

And just like that, I am no longer going through the motions of preparing for a cross-country move. It's real, official, palatable: we are leaving New England. We are quitting our jobs in the middle of a major recession and chasing a dream to the Pacific Northwest.

Maybe its because my books- who have been reliable companions and reassuring friends through the more nebulous eras of my life- are now packed up and eagerly awaiting their train ride across the continental United States. Maybe its because I can no longer glance at the photo of my paternal grandmother on the fourth shelf and wonder what amazing way she'd find to cheer me on this time. I don't know. I don't really care.

Because selling those bookshelves felt real! And I am finally truly and totally excited!

We have no idea what life will be like in Washington, only that it will be different. And while we'll miss our family and incredible friends, we're psyched about different!

But damn, I loved those bookshelves. We're not so psyched about different that we won't buy them again.