ID TO PA

Yucky Mold House, Part 1

Sigh.

I have avoided this whole subject for a long time mainly because discussing and dealing with this ongoing nightmare is just a big pain in my ass and makes me feel like an emotional mess.

Let's start at the beginning.

We needed to find a rental.  LONGGGG story short: the market in this city for rentals are sparse at best.  In fact, there is almost nothing decent between a grand and two and if you wanted under a grand you are limited to the "wrong side of the tracks" so to speak.  For the folks who are familiar with Los Angeles it is like CHOOSING to move into East L.A.  It is one thing if you are born and raised there but to move INTO an area like that, not probably the best of plans.

And if you want to spend over two grand the pool opens up a bit more.  Otherwise, you are scrambling to find anything decent in a semi-decent area.  Which is also made more difficult when you are completely unaware of the area you are now forced to move to.  And yet further difficult when you have three kids going to three different schools and you are crossing your fingers that you pick the right school district.

After talking to people at Larry's work we narrowed it to about four school districts, which broke down to almost a dozen "boroughs" to choose from.  We looked in the paper, nothing.  We searched for rental magazines, nothing.  We tried word of mouth, nothing.  We even called all the "for sale by owners" to see if they were interested in renting, still nothing.  In fact, I encountered a few disgruntled homeowners who more or less hung up on me.

In my naive mind back at the beginning of the year I just assumed once we narrowed the school district down we would just search for a rental house.  Well, I think my heart sank when I first plugged the borough into a rental search and came up with zero finds.

WHY ARE THERE NO RENTALS???!?!  (I'm still kinda confused over this fact.)

Of the four preferred school districts:

One was a very nice, slightly older area with these large homes with big front steps which reminded me of "old Hollywood".  However, it is a very "close knit" community (borough/township, WHATEVER) and therefore are rather unfriendly to "outsiders" that are not born and raised here.

The other area was really my cup of tea.  Hilly streets.  Nice homes but not overly extravagant but definitely family friendly neighborhoods.  And not a single home to rent.

The third area was absolutely lovely, and very pricey.  The streets are flocked with pretty light posts circa 1789 and enormous trees.  While it was very nice I just couldn't see myself living there.  That kind of thing is just not me.

The fourth area is another superb school district.  In fact, this school district and the one in the pricey area are at the top of the state in terms of numbers.  The school district is also wide and far providing more opportunities to find something.  And because of the excellent school district the houses and communities are pricey too. Sigh. 

Then one day Larry calls me.  He found a rental in that fourth area.  He showed me the pictures.  It was a colonial house with a circular drive and a view of the lake.  Ideal, I thought.

And then I said: "I want that house Larry!"
His response was: "Well, let's see what it looks like inside first."
To which I said something along the lines of: "I don't care! Make it happen!"

Now, in my defense, it all looked so perfect and after months and months of finding NOTHING we find this one and they aren't charging an arm and a leg and how ideal is that?!

He takes pictures.  I gasp.  They are horrible.  But, he said there were cleaners there and they were cleaning everything up.

And here is the thing.  Time was running out.  I was feeling desperate.  And I figured I would have to compromise...I would never find a home like the one we built in Idaho and it was only temporary.  And Larry felt certain he could fix it up with some paint and fresh carpet and make it nice (enough).

Okay I'm justifying.

I SCREWED UP.

WE MADE A MISTAKE.

There is no one to blame, nor have we tried to find a willing scapegoat.  This is all our fault.  We made a bad decision and one that has not only cost us thousands of dollars but may end up costing even more thousands, we don't know yet.

The weekend I flew out to Pennsylvania was one of the worst weekends of my life.  My flight was cancelled, I ended up being in an airport for 24 hours, and taking a red-eye into Philadelphia which meant Larry had to drive two hours to pick me up and then we drove two hours back.  My luggage was lost and the staff at the airport were nasty, rude, and mean.  We had an appointment that morning to see the house but first I had to go to the store to pick up some clean clothes and back to Larry's apartment to take a shower.

When i saw the house, my gut told me to run.  Run far, far away.  But, I didn't listen to my gut.  I listened to the fear in my head that said: there is nothing else.  You need to find a home for your children.  Stop being such a spoiled brat and make due.  And, my favorite: it is only temporary.

The house was a fucking mess.

The nook tiles were not laid properly and so many were cracked and the grout was not competed and what was completed looked like a four year-old was given the grout task.
The baseboards were disgusting.
The family room was basically a cement slab.
The steps leading to the family room looked like they belonged outside.
There were holes everywhere.
And puffy insulation crap.
The house was a split level and the lower level was nasty.
Holes, wetness, disgusting.
And when I thought about doing laundry down there, I cried.
When I thought about bringing my children into this hell hole, I cried so hard my stomach hurt.

And yet I still signed on the dotted line.

YES, I'M A FOOL.  A STUPID, STUPID FOOL.  (Duly noted.)

The sun room had broken glass and screens and misc. furniture and appliances.
Doors were in bad shape and so were the handles.
The bedrooms were teeny.
The house only had one bathroom.

Basically, this thirty year old house has never (not once) been updated, remodeled, or loved.  It was a mess as if the people who lived there spent every minute finding ways to thrash and ruin it.  But, the guy we rented it from seemed nice enough...he said that over the summer he was going to completely remodel the lower level and make it livable again.  He said we could paint it and do whatever we wanted to the house.  Larry felt certain that with some elbow grease, paint, and new carpet...plus all our belongings...it could be a nice enough home.  And remember, it is only temporary.

And we signed.  And yet all weekend I felt that knot in the pit of my stomach indicating ERROR.  Larry tried to show me around town, but I hated it.  I hated the idea of living here, even then.  I tried to rally but I failed. 

I was tired and emotional and stressed and absolutely HATED the direction my life was now taking me in...

And I know that that is not a defense.  Being in an airport for over 24 hours and having my luggage lost is not a good reason for agreeing to bring your children into a house that should have been condemned.  I know.  I fucked up.  Big time.  And a day doesn't go by that I am not feeling the weight of that mistake.  In the end, it has financially screwed us up, it has emotionally messed me up, and it has made me feel like a complete and utter idiot with her tail between her legs.

The best part of this whole thing was the 10 days we spent traveling to get here.  Living in hotels.  Driving across country.  Lovely.

The day we walked into this house, I was disgusted.  I hated it.

And then I noticed the smell.  Okay, that isn't totally true.  I noticed it back in May and the guy we rented the house from said that it is because the house has been vacant for awhile and homes back here with basements, etc. just have an odor and all we had to do was open the windows and turn on the dehumidifier and all would be fine over time.

Did I research basements on the east coast? No.  Did I just lamely believe this total stranger? Yep.

But when we had the kids with us, it was almost too much to bear.  The house was disgusting.  Larry tired like hell to paint and get it all done, but he wasn't able to and realized he might have bit off too much than he can chew in thirty days.

I hated the carpet.  It felt cold and uncomfortable.  The rooms were dirty and gross.  The bathroom made me cry every single time I went in there.  The kitchen cabinets were disgusting and I couldn't stomach using their refrigerator.  Yes, we cleaned everything again.  It didn't help.  I was GROSSED OUT.  I couldn't cook in that kitchen so we went out almost every day.  Larry had pulled up the tiles in the nook but that left the glue gunk all over the floor.  The steps were NASTY and so were all the holes and crap exposed.

But that smell.

We called the landlord.  He told us AGAIN to just open some windows.  We did.  It only made the smell mildly less, but still there. We turned on the dehumidifier, but the smell never really went away.  The minute you walked into the house, BOOM! ASSAULTED!

I found myself going out everyday which caused the dog stress and she found the lower level the perfect place to do her business.  UGH! I was in a nightmare.  I was all alone.  Didn't know anyone.  Out in the middle of some rural ass area where the neighbors kept to themselves and never once came out and introduced themselves.  Stuck in a house that we agreed to live in with a smell that was making me sick to my stomach.

On the day before our stuff arrived via the truck I cried in bed all day.  I didn't get out of bed as Larry tried to finish painting the bedrooms and the kids played games and watched TV.  I tried to come up with a solution before our stuff came.  Maybe we should call our mover and tell him to move the stuff into storage instead.  I couldn't think.  I couldn't concentrate.  I couldn't do anything.

The day our stuff arrived was horrible.  We moved box after box into the house, the downstairs, and the garage and I cried all day.  Ending after a very long day with more misery: we couldn't find the computer connections and since our mover was the one who packed it up the guys had to go through EVERY SINGLE BOX to find what we couldn't locate...as the rain started to fall.  Which meant that every box was untaped.  UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.  Finally it was found and the mover realized he was originally looking for the wrong size box and the connections were found but the movers were all disgusted with us and left without as much as a wave.  And I cried some more.

And I think I've been crying ever since.  And I'm tired.  And I'm lonely.  And I feel horrible and stupid.

Very, very stupid.  And we will be paying for that stupidity for a long time to come.  Which only makes me more stressed and more anxious and more miserable.

 

Philadelphia

I had been dying to go to Philly from the minute Larry left Idaho last October.  The thought of seeing the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall was a thrilling prospect.

My initial plan was to head down there this summer.  However, between the heavy rains and the double move plus mold and unpacking and acclimating ourselves, we just never made it there.  By September we decided to just wait and head down to Philly when my mom flew out to visit in October.

We picked an absolutely perfect autumn day.  The sun was shining.  The skies were blue with some clouds.  The trees were glorious.  The temperature a mild and pleasant 65 degrees.  We are close too...only a little over a hundred miles to one of our nation's oldest city.

And that is where we decided to spend the day: the Old City.

We spent all day and yet I feel I need to go back again just to see it a second time in case I missed something the first time.  However, I will avoid Maple Street because, holy shit, the roads were the smallest I've ever seen.  It is like being in downtown New York on a two-lane road, constructed when the mode of transportation were horses and not Suburbans and buses.  I think I died a little bit on that road.

From there we walked.  The biggest disappointment was the fact that after a certain time you can no longer obtain tickets to get INTO Independence Hall.  WHAT?!?  I wanted to cry.  But, we were able to get into the "square" and see the exact spot where Benjamin Franklin, John Adams (and others) gave speeches.  Wow.

The drive south...

 

The beginning of our long-day-of-walking in the old city...

First, LUNCH (Philly cheese steaks, OF COURSE...and, yes, Harrison got more than one comment about his choice of sweatshirts! You mean Dorothy we aren't in Southern California anymore?)

The boys.

This was about as close to the inside of Independence Hall as we got (dammit).

On the steps of Independence Hall.  Imagine who walked on those steps...! (If the kids had smiled when I asked them to we would have avoided that open door...within seconds of this shot the group of lucky folks were walking out of their tour...)

 

 

The Declaration of Independence room...a darkened room with a guard.

My favorite photo.  I'm standing in the Independence Hall "square" and they are looking out towards the Liberty Bell.

Another favorite: the kids on the side steps of Independence Hall.

Boys?!? Have you had enough of our history lesson yet? Hey! Turn around! We aren't even close to being finished yet! Don't you want to see the Liberty Bell or Where Betsy Ross is buried?!?!?!  What did you say? Oh no you didn't.

I will never tire of this building.  I want to spend a week there.  Inside.

There it is.  The bell.  Let Liberty Ring.

They are pointing to the sign in case you are unable to see it and then you are sitting there wondering why they are flipping me off with their index fingers.

A bench with the First Amendment.  Genius.  I wanted them to memorize and be quizzed at dinner but that didn't go over very well.  But, do you see Independence Hall in the background?!

Ben Franklin's final resting place.  How long is too long to stare at a (flat) tombstone? (Which, by the way, is the same type of tombstone that Ernest Hemingway has in Sun Valley, Idaho.  I know, just random bullshit that means nothing.)

We could have just spied the tombstone through the rod-iron fence like the majority of tourists but I wanted to be CLOSER.  You can see the kids are enthralled.  BUT, KIDS! THIS IS WHERE BEN FRANKLIN IS BURIED! BEN. FRAN.KLIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This cemetery is full of signers of the Declaration AND Revolutionary War heroes.  Is it wrong to be so excited in a cemetery? Is there protocol I was breaking?  Not only did I take pictures of every signer and Revolutionary War hero buried there but I plan to look up the men and research them too.  (I know, don't say it.)

Isn't this charming?

They won't admit it but they were intrigued too.  Now, will they research the Revolutionary War heroes or the many signers of the Declaration or even the guy that was a gravedigger in this cemetery for 50 years? No, probably not.  That is where we draw the line on crazy in this family.

The saddest part was most of the tombstones are completely blank.  The engraving/etching, etc. has been totally worn off by time and elements.  I would like to make sure the fine folks of Philadelphia have the information filed somewhere as to who is buried where.  Please.  Tell me.  In fact, I'd like to see a copy just to make sure and enable me to sleep at night.

This was just the top of a tombstone.  I didn't notice until I uploaded these photos that I captured some kid on the other side of the opening.  But, I love this photo a lot and would have been much cooler if it had been MY kid on the other side...ah well...life goes on.

Betsy Ross house.

This guy is not a real patriot.  He was just someone dressed like one.  And, he was showing everyone knots...

Jennifer, you've heard about Betsy Ross, right? Right?!

Is that tiny little flag really the most appropriate one they could have come up with for poor Betsy?!?

This is the oldest continuously occupied street in the United States.

 

The British are coming! The British are coming!

We did a lot of walking...

They are soooooooo tired of all that history! Mom! This town has no roller coasters!!

One last parting shot of Philadelphia.  Yes, that is part of the square at Independence Hall. (Obsessed? Me?)

Until next time Philadelphia...there is SO MUCH more of you to see.  Next time I'm going to actually get INSIDE Independence Hall...

Home

When we moved to Idaho, we moved with all our heart, little regret, and much excitement.  We were all on board.  We were moving to a place where we could breathe.  A place where the pace was slower.  A place where people were friendly and life was quieter than our San Diego life.  We were excited.  We were building a dream home.  We were going to live near my brother and his family.

And we never looked back.

Besides leaving my parents there was very little we missed about southern California life and more specifically our life in San Diego/Oceanside.

I know my kids were five years younger but they were equally as welcoming our new life.  Our move.  The change of locale.  The whole package.

While we waited for our house to be completed and a job to fall into place we traveled around our new town...explored...saw...learned...embraced our new state with great vigor.  We loved Idaho.

It has been very different moving to Pennsylvania.

And maybe it is because the kids are five years older.  Maybe it is because this wasn't a "choice", if you will.  Maybe because I am sad and lonely.  Maybe it is because I feel so far away from everyone.  Maybe because I am restless and bored.  Maybe it is because I am also five years older.

There is much discord among the majority of us.  Mainly me.  And maybe that is why the kids haven't completely embraced our new life because I'm not the cheerleader on the sideline, excited about our life...exploring...making friends...making new traditions with my brother and his family...building our wonderful home.

We have none of that here.  Our plates still say Idaho.  My license is still Idaho.  I compare almost everything (subconsciously and consciously) with Idaho on a daily basis.  We have no roots here since we are only renting...in fact, I feel as though our roots are sitting in a terracotta pot lacking water.

I'm not happy.

And I know that things take time.  I really do.  And I try and hide my feelings so mom isn't always in the dumps (oh fun!).  And I try to put on a happy face.  And I try to take it slow.  And I try and get out there and "meet people".  And I try to accept Pennsylvania as home.  And I try to not build anyone's hope up about the possibility of moving back to Idaho (as Larry claims I do).

But I don't like it (it is nothing personal...this IS a beautiful state with beautiful surroundings.  It is me).  It has been over four months and I feel the same I did on June 30th when we left Idaho.  Miserable.  Lonely.  Missing.

Larry loves it here.  He is content (but he is just an easy-going kind of guy).  He absolutely LOVES his job.  He loves working for UPS.  He loves what he is doing.  He loves the area.  He is happy.  Sure, he misses our home and I think it makes him sad to see me so miserable all the time but he seems to have adapted and accepted long ago.

Josh is also more or less content.  He likes his school.  He likes his teachers.  He has made some friends.  He talks about going back and he would but he is just as fine staying here.

Harrison and Jennifer are more in the "let's go back to Idaho" camp.  A day doesn't go by that one of them doesn't talk about going back "by next summer" apparently.  Jennifer misses her friends even though she has made new ones here.  She misses her elementary school and wants to go back.  She misses her bedroom.  Harrison misses his best friend Zack, daily.  He has also made friends and everyone seems to have acclimated well.  (I'm not sure I'm included in that, however.)  They are doing well in school.  They have made friends both at school and in our neighborhood.  On the surface, we are a well-adjusted family.

I miss it all and then some.

And I can't seem to get past this feeling.  I drive around and miss Idaho.  I walk around this house and miss my home in Idaho.  I drop Jennifer off at school and miss Hunter.  I drive Josh to high school and miss the school we watched being built a few years ago.  I miss my family.  I miss my friends.  I miss my routines and my life.

I don't know how to embrace it here when my heart isn't here.  And, it is VERY hard to cheer on my kids when they say that they want to move back, instead my heart aches a little bit more.  When we lived in Idaho I saw our future.  We made future plans.  We talked in future terms.  Here, I don't seem to do that as easily.  We drove by the intermediate school this morning and Jennifer said that is where she'll be next year ("I miss Hunter mom and maybe I should write my friend Kylie and surprise her and tell her that we'll be back in the summer").  A friend I met here even said to me...after telling me she is looking at lots so she can build a home in this subdivision...that it doesn't seem I'm going to stay here that I appear to be ready to go back to Idaho the first chance I get!

Meanwhile, we area also carrying a lot more baggage than before.  We have our house rented in Idaho.  We have legal issues/headache on the first rental here.  We are renting a home that makes me miss my home even more in a neighborhood that is beyond lovely but is it home? I don't know.

My mom asked me when she was out here last month if Larry and I have a plan on getting back to Idaho and if we have talked about it.  I thought that was a funny question.  As if we haven't talked about it.

But, my take on a "plan" is such:  I am trying to let go.  Not let go of going back to Idaho but I can't live on hold.  That isn't fair for my kids.  I will say that I don't feel like this is home.  Maybe some will say that is just time and with time I will feel more at home.  Maybe that is true.  I don't know.  But, in my heart I want to be in my home in Idaho again.  I have put it out there on a regular basis and I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason and fate and if we are meant to go back then something will open up, something will alter in our world, even slightly, and the opportunity will present itself.

So, yes mom we have thought about it, talked about, cried over it, discussed it until my throat is raw.

But to leave a good job in today's economy, pack up and move our asses all the way back because I'm feeling a lonely and down seems to be irresponsible at best.  For now, I must wait it out and hope that the door will open soon in the direction of west.

Travel

I have a friend who recently moved from Idaho to California almost exactly at the same time we moved from Idaho to Pennsylvania.  Since the end of June I have been in regular contact with her.  I read her blog and comment back and forth via Facebook.  She calls me just to check in on me and see how I'm doing and offer a word or two of encouragement and understanding.  In another words, she has been my savior through all of this change and I treasure her kind and thoughtful words so much!

She said something recently that really hit home.  Since she moved she has been traveling up and down the state a lot.

And she told me (I'm going to paraphrase here) that in a way traveling was a way to escape the difficulties of the move.  A way to avoid the (new) reality of life away from anyone you know.  A way to pretend that your new life, where you are alone and without friends or family, is not really happening.

It was a total A-Ha moment for me.

I love to travel.  I love being away from the everyday.  The phone.  The computer.  The day-to-day life of washing dishes, laundry, homework, and taking the dog out to do her business.  I love to see new things.  I LOVE to explore new things and new places.  I love to learn.  I love to see.  I love the preparing for a trip.  I love the prospect of what I will find...what gem out there waiting to be uncovered and explored.

Ah, bliss.

When I was preparing for a little bit of "exploring" (I wouldn't really call it traveling) around our new state last month I was removed from the mundane.  The loneliness of my life now.  The fact that there isn't anyone I can call and go have coffee with in the middle of the week.  The fact that there isn't one familiar face at Jennifer's school.  I can pretend that I don't have legal issues with our old landlord or that I miss my house in Idaho so much it hurts. 

For a day, a week, two weeks I can just enjoy the travel.  The journey to see new and different things.  To explore.  To uncover.

Here is an excerpt from "A Year In The World" by Frances Mayes that I liked a lot.  And, to my friend Michelle in Northern California: THANK YOU for being there, even though we are 3000 miles apart, your words, your kindness, your friendship means so much to me!

"Travel pushes my boundaries.  When you travel, you become invisible, if you want.  I do want.  I like to be the observer.  What makes people who they are? Could I feel at home here? No one expects you to have the stack of papers back by Tuesday, or to check messages, or to fertilize the geraniums.  When traveling, you have the delectable possibility of not understanding a word of what is said to you.  Language becomes simply a musical background for watching bicycles zoom alongside a canal, calling for nothing from you.  Travel releases spontaneity.  You become a godlike creature full of choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower.  You open, as in childhood, and...for a time...receive this world.  There's the visceral aspect, too...the huntress who is free.  Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth."

The October Snow

Last year this little town had two school "snow days" before Halloween.  They lost power for a couple of days and beautiful mature trees were knocked down (I wondered why the trees on our street seemed so small considering these homes were built twenty years ago).

I braced myself for what was to possibly come this October.

For the most part it was an ideal autumn.  Sunny days, chilly temperatures, gorgeous foliage, clear days with bright blue skies, and some rainy days.

Yeah, we got snow for a couple of days too but it didn't stick (to the roads) and didn't cause any inconvenience whatsoever other than a late start for the school district on one of the days.

It was very, very beautiful to watch the snow fall and the contrast between the very-bright-white snow and the colorful foliage was breathtaking.  However, because the snow was very wet and heavy they warned us that the trees were going to suffer because the leaves couldn't hold up the weight of the wet snow.  Damn.

(the snowman was my mom's creation!)  

And I know, I know, winter is yet to come and there will be more to come. I live in Pennsylvania where there is snow.  Winter in the northeast.  Blah, blah, blah.  I get it.  Now, just enjoy the prettiness of all the white stuff.

Landscaping

I love the way our front yard (our house in Idaho) is landscaped. The trees, the plants, the color, the newly added rocks.

It was always so nice when spring began and the grass turned a dark green...the maple tree in the center had small bright green leaves...the plants all popping with a variety of color: reds, whites, yellows.  The light green pine; the pink and red crabapple; the yellowy-green river birch; the dark green pines; the white flowers; dark grey-black rocks against the grey house with bricks and dark grey front door.

I know this will sound silly but I loved driving by my house and "admiring" the way it all looked.  So pretty; so enjoyable.  In the summer, the colors and plants were all at full bloom.  By fall, the colors changed slightly but still so lush.  Even in the winter, while almost everything lay dormant, it still looked nice.

The backyard took a little longer for us to landscape but the summer before we moved here we had planted a variety of plants, including a Veteran's rose and this amazingly beautiful light green plant that blooms with millions of tiny pink and white buds.  My trees...lots of trees that were finally looking mature...like the pears, the maple, the Blue Spruce, and the weeping willow.  My vegetable garden.  The beds full of a variety of plants and rocks.  I loved sitting on the patio while the sky lit up with gorgeous color as the sun set.

This morning I backed out of our driveway and noticed how blah our landscaping is here and for one minute I felt the crushing sadness of not living in my home.  What I see as I drive by our home on the east is how the Birch took a beating from some earlier winds and a torrential summer thunderstorm (or two) and has lost over half of the branches. The beds could use some nice rocks (to which Larry said, "hell no, once was enough!"), the shrubs are all of similar heights, and there is very little color variations. 

 

And the backyard...there is nothing but grass.  A lot of grass but that is it.  No trees (although we have views of nothing but trees back there...just none that belong to us).  No beds.  No flowers.  No small shrubs.  No covered patio.  No vegetable garden.  No Veteran's roses.  (Granted it makes things easier, but it is still so much less to enjoy out there.)

Sigh.

Fall In All Its Beauty

Okay, yesterday I promised to share some fall foliage here and there and around town.  Most are taken right out my back door!  Fall doesn't last long enough in my opinion. The color, the crisp air, the smell of fireplaces around the neighborhood...so lovely.  While there are still lots of trees full of beautiful color (including a beet red maple in my front yard) you can see they are slowly losing more and more leaves everyday and some are stuck somewhere between green and yellow/orange.  It has been a truly stunning, unlike-no-other place I have been, sight for autumn.  Gorgeous!  

This tree is on the street side to a huge old cemetery that I drive by every single day heading to Josh's high school, the store, and so on.  It was also the FIRST tree to begin turning and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to capture the beauty before it was too late!

Yes, we played at the cemetery but let the record state that we weren't frolicking and jumping on graves...this was part of the hill that is, well, unoccupied at present time.

Besides the trees turning gorgeous colors there was also about a billion leaves all over the grass hill that also drew me in.  Naturally, the day we decided to go and take some photos, the leaves have been raked.  Rrrrr.

This was taken in the back of Jennifer's elementary school playground at the end of September.  Within only a couple of weeks this hill was a mass of fifty different shades of reds, oranges, and yellows.  Amazing.

This was taken on the corner near our neighborhood looking out at that sea of trees in late September...at the very beginning of change.

At a pumpkin patch.

At the pumpkin patch.

This was taken out my bedroom window so the screens kinda got in the way!

this was taken from our back deck in the beginning/middle of October.

Again, beginning/middle of October at Josh's high school!

So pretty...

The following photos were taken on our drive south to Philadelphia in the  middle of October. (They aren't very clear because we were, well, driving!)

 

This was taken at the yucky mold house that we drove to show my mom when she was in town...

The prettiest tree we've seen to date!  

Within our subdivision.

Also within our subdivision...

This was taken in downtown Scranton at the railroad museum.

Yes, jumping is my new favorite way to take photos.  This was also at the railroad museum.

Gor. Geous. You may not be able to tell but these trees had so many variations in color it was awe-inspiring!  We were driving through a side street in Scranton.

Just driving around "the city".

Another favorite taken by Josh's high school.

Bland

Now I realize this is hardly fair.  I haven't shared any photos from the beauty of fall out my back window.  And I will do that, I promise.

A couple of weeks ago we had two days of wet snow and they warned us about the heaviness effecting the poor, colorful trees.  Dammit.

Out my nook/kitchen window I saw nothing but those colorful trees.  In fact, I enjoyed that view so much...trees that were golden yellow, bright red, and pumpkin orange...sometimes I found myself staring for long periods of time.  So pretty.  So uplifting.  So enjoyable.

Now: bland.

The trees on the hill behind our house are primarily bare after that fateful snow.  Sure, there are still yellow trees around and gorgeous bright red ones all over but the view of that hill behind our house is no longer colorful.

Stay with us autumn.  Come on, just another thirty days, tops.  I want one more month of this absolutely beautiful fall in the northeast.  With the exception of a couple of snowy days, it has been crisp, cold, chilly, blue skies, rainy, leaves piling up, blowing leaves...all the things you (well, me) associate with FALL.  And it's going to be a long wait for the pretty color again next year.

Don't Belong

Sometimes (maybe more than sometimes) I get the feeling like I am not sure where I belong.  Where I truly fit in.  Where the warm snuggly blanket simply says: you're home.

I definitely didn't find that in San Diego.  I don't regret living there because I have a boatload of truly wonderful memories with my parents, I gave birth to all three of my children, and let's not forget the financial benefits of buying low (when no one gave a shit about little ole San Diego nor its suburbs) and selling ridiculously high.

But I was not happy there.  That town was not for me.  Despite the sun and the ocean breezes the place brought me down.  I was not in love with the smell of sunscreen or the fact that shorts were worn all year long.  Maybe I was down because after having children and leaving the 9-to-5 and dealing with one stress after another, my life in general slowly brought me down.  I'm not sure.  But when I think of San Diego, besides the close proximity to my parents and the memories we all shared week after week for over a decade, there is nothing warm nor fuzzy.

My neighborhood was horrible to say the least.  My neighbors were filled with bitches and snobs and people who couldn't stand to hear sprinklers run at 5am.  Oh dear God, they complained about everything and everyone and I had had enough of policemen and cranky neighbors behind my door.  Sigh.

The rushing, the traffic, the rude, snobby people milling about, and the overpriced everything was not worth the occasional view of the ocean nor the sunny days (and so be it...I may be the only person on the planet who doesn't go hog crazy over the glorious sunshine for 362 days a year.  I like the different seasons).

Idaho was more or less my cup of tea.  We built the house of our dreams.  We had four seasons.  My parents were building a second home around the corner (it was a good plan, dad!).  I had family around.  The neighborhood seemed, for the most part, friendly and good (despite the manic-snob-turret-suffering LDS with her abusive-asshole police officer husband or the destructive boys peppered throughout or the sweet but needy woman next door who when I first met her asked what religion I was and then for the short months that followed before she moved out, came over with a plate of raw chicken to ask if she could use my BBQ).  The kids had made really good friends.  They were settling in nicely with the schools.  And, dammit, we had finally laid all those rocks in our yard!!!

However, there was something not entirely right there.  I was left on the outside still like a spectator or the poor evil stepchild to Cinderella's perfect future.  Someone who always wanted to be brought inside the fold, hugged, and cared for but was instead left outside, chilled.

What I did realize in Idaho was that I loved the smaller town aspect, the seasons (yes, even the damn snow), the friendly people, the way the streets are all straight (holy shit, the roads here are confusing and anything but straight!), the one freeway (okay, AND the connector).  I loved my subdivision.  I loved the school.  I could see the grove of life, despite a few unsightly bumps, existing for me and my family there.

Now, I'm here.  On the east where things are just different.  Like the huge oil thingy in my basement that heats this house (nicely, I might add) instead of gas.  The people are more hurried and the freeways are similar to my Los Angeles days, except I am almost twenty years out of living in that city, and my tailgating-hurried-impatient-cutting off days are really in the past.

I started out in a neighborhood that was more or less on the rural side.  The streets were QUIET.  Almost too quiet.  Despite the mold that kind of living isn't really my thing, I discovered.  I don't mind some quiet but I like the idea of people around me.

So, we move to a subdivision...about the only one I have seen.  There might be more, but who the hell knows.  There isn't another subdivision within this TINY suburb of the city.  It is beautiful here.  I have amazing views of a whole sea of trees outside my windows.  I have the friendliest neighbors yet.  We have privacy and land.  We are close enough to the necessities. 

And yet.

There is something missing.  Something not quite right.  I have met many people.  I wave and say "Hi" often.  And yet, nothing.  I have gone to the neighbors house for dinner and to another neighbors for movie night.  I have joined a group of women who are putting on a charity event.  I even had one neighbor willingly come into my house to take the dog out while we traveled south for the day.

And yet.

Nothing.  Lost.  Lonely.  I don't feel right here.  And I know you are all going to say it takes time.  Lots of time.  I will make friends.  Be patient.  Put myself out there. There will be world peace.  I know.  But here is the thing.  I have an unsettled feeling.  A feeling as if I don't belong anywhere anymore.  I don't belong in L.A. and San Diego leaves me dry.  My tie to Idaho (my house) is being rented to people who I refuse to even think about living in MY home.  Here I am surrounded by natives who know everyone and many who went to high school right across the street.

I'm tired.  I don't necessarily want to make friends.

Ouch.  Yes, I just said that.  I have many wonderful (and not so, sorry, but you know who you are) friends that I remain close to despite my distance.  How many friends do I need to keep making only to uproot and be forced to say goodbye yet again?  Maybe I'm gun shy.  Maybe I just don't wanna. 

I have definitely made acquaintances and I have definitely had plenty of opportunity for making friends and building relationships but I feel myself pulling back.  I feel myself entering into a shell and hibernating for a long time.  I feel a sadness constantly.  I feel lost constantly.  The loneliness not only brings an occasional anxiety attack but it settles in and sits like an elephant on my chest.

And I don't know where I'm supposed to land at the end of all of this...

IDAHO Not Iowa

Apparently, there is a confusion.

Maybe it is because both these states start with the letter "I".

People whom I've recently met refer to me as "oh, the one from Iowa" to which I correct, "it's Idaho".  Call me crazy but there is a bit of a difference between Idaho and Iowa.  One lady (after I corrected her) said, "Iowa, Idaho, what's the difference?!?!" 

Really?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the state of Iowa, it just isn't what's on my license plate. 

My guess is that half these people out here don't really know WHERE Idaho is.  Maybe they aren't quite sure if it is even a state.  "Does it hover near the Hawaiian islands?"  Um, no.  "Is Idaho south of the Dakota's?"  Not quite.  "It's over THERE."  There being the (gasp) west with all their sunscreen and cowboys.

However, once they figure out that yes, Idaho is in fact a state and a state that is in the west, the super smart ones only want to know about the potatoes.  You're kidding, right?  That's like asking if I ran into movie stars in Los Angeles.

I've heard it all in the few short months I've been here.

Yes, I realize Idaho is a long way away from Pennsylvania.
No, we didn't just randomly throw a dart and move to the farthest place possible.
No, we are not from here.
No, we don't have family here.

At least if we are talking potatoes, we aren't talking weather so that is an improvement, if nothing else.