Oh people, my how things have changed. I know lately I haven’t posted much but things have been CRAZY. Well, more accurately, I have been crazy. Let’s just say that this move has left me with hills and valley’s of emotions and I have been learning a lot about my ability to deal with change. I guess I should have taken Who Moved MY Cheese more seriously…maybe I would have transitioned better.

Anyhow, this week I started running with two girls from work in the mornings. They are both beautiful, young and incredibly in shape (Hi Jenny!) At first I was intimidated but we have had a great time running together and I feel monumentally better throughout the day when I run in the morning.

This morning was particularly fantastic as we happened to run by a certain doctor that the girls know. He lives just a bit off of our running path and we zig zagged out of the way in order to catch a peak of his house. Well, holy moly did we hit gold.

As we nonchalantly jogged by, it appeared that said doctor was (with windows WIDE OPEN) doing pull ups on a bar in his front room. WITH NO SHIRT ON. People, what happened after this was like a scene out of a stupid chick flick. Let’s just say there was lots of high pitched giggling and yet another sprint past the poor, unsuspecting doc’s window. We are grown women mind you, but we aren’t above stalking hot doctors apparently. Now, given that I am a happily married woman (hi honey!) I will say that this little adventure was strictly an information reconaissance mission for my lovely single girl friend, so you could say that I took one for the team. Really, I never leave a fellow soldier behind. I have strict military like morals.

I can’t imagine what the neighbors thought as we cackled loudly outside their windows at O’Dark Hundred, maybe geese flying West for Fall? Anyhow, I fear we were less mature than we would like to think.

 One of the girls I run with is getting married on the beach in Carmel next weekend. She is marrying a secret agent man (seriously, she can’t even tell me about him because she’d have to kill me or something) Apparently, aside from her good taste in men, she MUST NEED glasses because she has asked me to do her makeup for her wedding. (My mom is so proud! Hi Mom!)Although when I told my sister (who is a stylist) that someone asked me to do their makeup, she asked if that meant someone was going to ask her to run for Congress. Point taken Nikki.

So I am thinking that I will post some before and after photo’s of the blushing bride so y’all can see my mad make-up skills. I might have missed my calling as a MAC counter girl, however given that I am a HER and not a SHIM, maybe I wouldn’t make it there too long.

Anyhow, running this morning, while fully entertaining, was a bit hard because my children refuse to sleep. Isaac and Joshua, at least once a week decide to tag team me in the middle of the night with a parade of requests for water, bottles and bathroom trips. I am thinking that we are going to have to separate the two little tyrants and move Josh to the guest bedroom because I can’t hang with the lack of sleep. Somehow the man sleeping next to me manages to sleep through the Midnight Masterpiece Theater of Children - although they are so loud I don’t know how.

Look for my regular Friday Fasting post tomorrow, as I am screaming up on the end of week 2 of no shopping. One day at a time, people, one day at a time.

This is one of those posts that isn’t meant to entertain or enlighten. It is a moment of self-awareness simply put to paper.

Since we moved, I’ve had good days and bad. As with any transition, the consequences of change are felt. It is wonderful to reside amongst such jaw dropping beauty. If I take a deep breath when looking at the ocean or the trees occupying the nearby cliffs, I feel prettier, smarter and more fulfilled. Internalizing the beauty of your surroundings isn’t hard to do around here.

However, I am really missing the safety net of my old home. I miss the comfort that comes with familiarity. Turlock is ugly. Well, maybe not ugly but unconvincing and awkward. The people, however, are like family so the make of the town never bothered me entirely. Once I set foot in my old job, Turlock ceased to be an issue. It was where this amazing opportunity was so, I would no longer question the town’s beauty or comfort.

When we made the decision to move, it was precipitated by a 12 month period of wanderlust. We both felt like we wanted to live someplace else. We wanted to choose where our children would be raised, not just end up someplace and call it home. I look back on that period of time as very purposeful because had we not been looking, this opportunity would not have landed upon us.

For me, the biggest part of leaving Turlockwas shockingly not the prospect of leaving my family. We are amazingly close and I knew that no span of time or distance of space would change that truth. My mother, father and sisters are a part of me and in that way are always with me in what I do. I knew I would miss the ability to just stop by their houses but I knew the move would allow for periods of extended time spent together that would be more meaningful than the “drive-by’s” of old.

So, the clincher for me really, was leaving my job and all of the things/people that went with it. My job had fallen into my lap 7 years ago. I was offered a shiny present that I hadn’t yet earned, all wrapped up with a wonderful salary and title. I treated the present with great care and after a few years, had earned that title and salary with great effort. My job became a second persona. It was still me, just better. The person I strived to be at work was, for the most part, the woman that I wanted to be as a child. When I saw myself as a grown-up, the picture of me going to Washington DC for a conference came to mind. It was the best of what I had pictured myself to be (once I gave up on my dream to be a doctor, which ended promptly in a high school calculus class).

The day Kevin was offered the job, I was with him. We had gone together for his final interview and I waited anxiously in the car. We knew he would get it and we knew we were inclined to accept it. However, once it was in writing, it felt more official. On the drive home we kept repeating, “We’re moving!” as though saying it one more time would make it real.

As I am apt for negativity, the excitement waned quickly for me as I moved on to the slew of details that had to be completed for the move to actually take place. I would spend the next 60 days just doing things, the things that needed to be done. I was shockingly detached from the emotions of the move due to the busyness of our details.

Once we moved and unpacked, it hit. All of the things to be done were done. We had moved, we had made a major change. When I got a call from a friend the other day who had applied for my old job and wanted some pointers, at first I was excited for him. Then, as I began to explain my job and what was necessary for the position, I began to get melancholy. In fact, after the call, I got down right depressed.

My job had been my ideal. I was accepted, I was understood and I was one of the few who had access to the top of the organization. I could speak eloquently on any one of the myriad of issues facing my organization at the drop of a hat. My job was one of my best accomplishments and now, it would be handed to someone else. Someone who may, or may not, treat that accomplishment with care and concern. It was like watching a woman move in on a grieving husband at his wife’s funeral. I was not done with my job, yet life had allowed for it to end.

Yet, with all of this said I know intellectually that the job itself was not mine, it is the company’s. The successes and failures of the job were mine to own and I did for a time. However, with this move and my new employment looming on the horizon, it is time to let go. I can not hover like some ghost over my old accomplishments, I need to prepare myself for the next phase with the same care and concern I gave the last. Somehow though, it still feels like a part of me is dying.

Being in a new town necessitates some decision making; where to get your clothes dry cleaned, where to grocery shop, where to find swimming lessons, friends and a good babysitter. Let’s just say I am sick of all of the decisions.

I don’t really miss Turlock. I just miss the familiarity of the town, the proximity to family and such. I knew where to get things, who to call when I couldn’t find something, who the good babysitters were, etc. Here, I am constantly adjusting to the “new”. I like it, just some days I wish I could be like Evie from Out of this World and put my index fingers together, freeze time and get everything all figured out. Although I am not sure that I want my Dad’s voice to come out of some possessed, glowing cube. (if you watched this show you know what I’m talking about…)

One of the big decisions ahead of us is where to go to church. I love being involved in a church and meeting new people. I just hate the whole deciding which one to attend. Every church has it’s merritts. This one has good worship, this one is very welcoming, this one has a great pastor. I want a place that is inviting to non-believers and has great teaching. I want a church where there are lots of young families so I can make friends. I guess I am asking a lot of a church.

The big question for me is, which criterion is most important? I want a church that is “seeker” friendly but yet I want to feel biblically fed on Sundays. What, I guess I should be asking, does God want? Considering I believe He shows up at just about every church, does He have a preference? Does He like one more than the other? Does He care about worship style or small groups or programs?

So friends, how (if at all) do you chose a church? What do you base it on? Last Sunday I went to Shoreline Community Church and I really liked it. Is gut feeling what you go by?

I can find a grocery store and a dry cleaners by myself but I really want some insight in picking a church. A church is the place where I am supposed to grow spiritually - which when compared to choosing a place for a good shirt starching, seems significant.

Don’t worry, there are pictures. However, read the narrative first as it will make the pictures come to life…

So, last Friday the truck was packed, the house was clean and the door was locked. We left town around 12 noon and went about driving the two hours to our new home, full of anticipation. We joked about how hot it was in the Valley that day and how we couldn’t wait for the foggy Carmel we know so well. The joke was on us.

Usually, as you travel west on the 156 and hit the 101 you can feel the temp drop about 10-15 degrees almost immediately when the ocean is in view. Curiously, the temperature stayed in the 90’s. Then something unbelievable happened, as we rounded the hill past Monterey into Carmel, the temp began to CLIMB to 97 degrees.

Anyone who lives in the Valley would scoff at the fact that we thought this was a bad thing. Surely you’ve heard of air conditioning, right Jenn? Well guess what my adoring fans, this new little abode I like to call the Easy Swede? Yeah she has NO CENTRAL AIR. So, as we pull up with two restless children, sore backs and a full truck, we all begin to realize what this heat means.

It meant that the house was a balmy 102 degrees and we had a crapload of work ahead of us that would leave us all in a puddle of sweat and frustration. As I walked into the house for the first time, the heat hit me in the face like a prize fighter. Then as I looked around I saw a whole lot of stuff that should have gone to storage the week before. So much stuff that we couldn’t unload the new truck full of our crap because, well, THERE WAS NO PLACE TO PUT IT.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, I had been warned before arrival of a little house guest.  This house guest was of the fur and tail nature and it had been “cornered” in the boys room. So, before moving in, I had to “de-rodent” my children’s room. Lovely.

The mouse had been described as a “rat” that was big and black and “stared down” my husband in the hallway prior to my arrival. Folks, you look at the picture of this creature and tell me if it doesn’t look like it just walked off the set of a Cinderella movie, sore from all of the dress sewing she had to do.

Anyway, so first order of business, get rid of the mouse. It only took a minute after we opened the door before the mouse was on the move. My dad and my husband captured this ferocious creature in a box. Then everyone pet it and gave it a name. Mousy.

After a tearful goodbye to the mouse in the neighbor’s ivy plant, everyone was back to work. I can’t begin to explain the mood that settled in the house due to the heat and the exhaustion. Everyone was literally dripping sweat as they carried in boxes. We were all silently cursing my pack rat nature as well… I can’t throw things away, it’s a problem and I’m seeking help.

That night, when the kids finally went to bed my mom and I proceeded to christen the house with a bottle of nice chardonnay. Yes, I do prefer red wine but it was too FREAKING HOT. What my mother and I failed to take  into account as we sipped this adult beverage is our complete dehydration and lack of food intake for the day.

The next thing you know it’s midnight and we decide to go for a walk. In our pajamas. The local high school down the street was our destination and we weren’t at all loud or lacking in judgement as we headed out on this journey. Please see the pictures for proof of our intoxication.

The next day was almost as hot and after a night spent sweating, everyone agreed it was time to go to Costco and purchase some fans. And we did, $125 worth of fans. Three hours later, it was raining. Awesome.

All in all, move in weekend was swell. I am forever indebted to my family for their help, as the conditions weren’t exactly perfect for moving large and heavy objects for hours at a time.

Also included below are a few pictures of the house. Please note the famed dolphin doorknocker. It’s fierce. Everyone has one. And because I know you were dying to see, I took a picture of the easy bake oven. Yes, that is a plate in the oven. A regular size plate - just in case you thought I was exaggerating when I said the oven was small. It’s like Barbie thanksgiving size small. So whatever.

Also, as an added bonus to the no air conditions, small oven, dolphin door knocker attributes of this lovely house, I discovered that it also has electrical wiring from the 1950’s. What does this mean you say? Well it means that when I run my tiny oven, I can not also run my microwave or the dishwasher or the dryer because if I do…the whole house shorts out. AWESOME. Good news is that I never need to run the dishwasher because it too is from the 1950’s and it has wheels. So you can wheel it to the sink and plug it in. SO CONVENIENT!

Stay tuned folks for more stories from the house that keeps on giving…

Pictures and good stories about the move coming tomorrow…

Until then, let’s just say the Easy Swede has not disappointed.

Well clearly I haven’t written anything for a week. I have been busy sipping margarita’s on a lovely mexican beach while someone (Fredrico) rubs my toes and feeds me grapes.

HA HA HA HA

Or, I am surrounded by boxes, lists of things to do and emotional outbursts the size of my hair in high school.

We move tomorrow and I don’t know if it is possible but I feel as though my life is both ending and just begining all at the same time. I lie in bed awake at night trying to picture what our new life will be like, unable to visualize one whole picture…just snapshots of change. I officially feel now like I am a visitor in my current home and town. One foot in each world.

I left a perfectly good job and a perfectly beautiful house in a lovely neighborhood, two miles from my parents for an adventure with my husband and children. I am both terrified and thrilled all at the same time.

I have to pick up a moving truck today and tomorrow morning we will fill it with the small remainder of our stuff left at this house. Sometime around 12 noon tomorrow we will pull out of town and head to our new life in Carmel.

I am so thankful for the opportunity and I am dying to see what the grass looks like on the other side of the fence.

P.S. this is the first time since I was 16 that I have been unemployed. More people should try this…

Well, the move is officially under way. My house is an accumulation of boxes and things and dust bunnies. Yesterday we embarked on a real effort to do some major packing and the end result, other than Kevin’s concussion, was pretty meritorious.

However, it wasn’t without drama, i.e. concussion and the mishap in which I broke an entire bottle of red nail polish all over the bathroom floor. Both incidents involved a partial blackout and cuss words. Why did the shelf all of the sudden come loose and land on Kevin’s head? Why did I ever purchase that crazy shade of prostitute red? Either way, a lot got done and we both finally feel like this move is happening.

Maybe, per chance, it is just me but moving seems to bring about a myriad of emotions. Every box that is packed and every cabinet cleaned out is a chance to take stock of what you have and what you’ve accumulated. So far, I’ve learned the following about myself:

1. You want pictures? I got pictures.
2. Shoes? Um, they might need their own U-haul.
3. Measuring cups? Yup, FOUR sets. FOR ALL THE COOKING I DO.
4. I love boxes of half eaten kid’s cereal.
5. I have partially used bottles of lotions, in every scent known to man. Looking for a little (and by little I mean 1/3 of a bottle) Exotic Coconut or Pure Seduction?
6. Books. Boxes upon boxes of books. Then more boxes and more books.
7. Apparently I am an avid collector of mismatched sheets and towels. Bully me.
8. For all of the cleaning I do, I prefer 3 half empty bottles of Windex to one full one.
9. I believe everything I read about anti-aging creams, or at least I must because I have an entire box of them.
10. I think a backyard really isn’t complete unless it is littered with dead plants in pots and weather worn children’s toys.

I am honestly hoping that the move to the Easy Swede will force me to downsize a few of my terrible pack rat habits. I really need to simplify. Some part of me knows however, that no matter how much I throw away, upon our next move I will find the same mix of stuff filling my cabinets and shelves. Some girls never change.

Only two weeks left at my job before the big Move. I am shocked by the speed at which this has gone, yet amazed at how some moments feel like years as they pass. I have been with this employer for 7 long years. To say that I’ve grown up here, professionally speaking, is an understatement.

This move is stretching me in ways I didn’t want to be stretched but it is also giving me a grand sense of freedom. I read once that you should chose where you want to live and then find a job there, instead of finding a job first. I always made the job choice first, until now.

We’ll see if those words I read long ago are words to live by…

Side note: the Easy Swede has a pretty cool door knocker. I forgot about it until the trip last week when I had a chance to take a better look around.

The door has a brass knocker on it in the shape of a dolphin. There  is no doorbell, just the dolphin. You actually have to pick the body of the dolphin up and bang his poor little bottle-nose on the door in order to knock. This house is shaping up to be full of blog topics.

So, next time you’re in town come on over to the Easy Swede, grab the dolphin and bring cookies.

Yikes, that sounds kinda bad………….

So last week my mom and I went for a little trip. We headed over the Monterey to look at daycares and take some measurements at the house. After a very long day of watching stranger’s children play, trying desperately to decipher if they were feeling “fulfilled or enriched by their daycare experience” and asking a thousand questions of daycare providers like “what method of teaching do you use” (when all you really want to ask is if they could possibly love your child just a little bit like you do from 8-5pm) we decided it was time to have some fun. My brain and emotions were fried by the experience and all I wanted to do was laugh.

We headed to the movies to see What Happens in Vegas. (Yes I know that Indiana Jones came out this weekend and please know that if I saw that movie without the Hubby I would be hung by my toes. ) Turns out the movie was hilarious and Ashton Kutcher is, well, very pretty.

As we were waiting for the movie to start we sat down in the theater lobby and were chatting/people watching. I reached into my purse to pull out my lip gloss and my mother did the same. As she pulled her gloss out I said “Hey I have that one!” So I reached for it in my purse. This led to a discussion about how much make-up populated the contents of our purses…..

People are you ready for this?

I can not believe that between the two of us there were 3 nail polishes, 8 lipsticks, two compacts, one lip liner and two mascara’s.

The scary part is that this collection is just the “extras” for our purses. I don’t think the Internet is ready for a picture of my home “kit” or my mother’s for that matter…..