Of all my memories, the one I associate most with my grandfather is a crushed velvet couch piled six across and two high with Cabbage Patch Dolls. Blondes. Brunettes. Redheads. Boys. Girls. There seemed to be one of every kind displayed on that couch in that wood-paneled living room.
We are officially homeowners for the first time in our lives, and after almost ten years of marriage! We closed on our lovely little house in Port Orchard, Washington on 10/27, took possession the next day, and moved in Thursday.
When I got the word that the job was mine, I had exactly 5 weeks to prepare to move the family across the country. Continue reading “Finding our fit”
Have you ever had one of those experiences that really just defy words? At least, right away? I went home to Indiana for a week and only recently got back to Washington, and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around my trip. I discovered something pretty profound, at least to me: they say you can’t go home again, but I don’t believe that’s true. You can, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to feel like home anymore.
We moved from Indianapolis to Seattle last August. Last September, my parents moved out of the house they’d lived in for 29 years. When I headed to their house after arriving at the Indianapolis airport, I was driving to an unfamiliar house in a town I’d never been in. There was no “going home.” In fact, home was gone.
Living in a place where the earth and the sky meet in the form of snow covered peaks has humbled me these past nine months. It’s impossible not to feel like you’re just one speck of dust on this grand earth when standing in a grove where the trees are as tall as skyscrapers. Continue reading “Mt. Rainier National Park – aka How we spent our Saturday morning”
Someday, I’m going to be a blogger that updates more than once every two weeks. I have the best of intentions and a thousand blog topics in my head, but that’s where they stay firmly rooted – right in my noggin. Ugh!
So a couple of updates – one about my health and one about dreams and cars and how they all collide.
First, the heavy stuff. Continue reading “Changing dreams and determining diagnoses”
Early Sunday mornings, well before the sun peeks over the Cascades range, I love to climb from beneath the warmth of my quilts, close the cracked window letting in all that chilly Pacific Northwest air, and head downstairs. Continue reading “Farmgirls, church ladies, and Sunday mornings”
My husband wants me to get my conceal-carry permit so that we can leave a pistol in the car at all times. He’s all about it, even printing out the application and handing it to me this morning. We live in a major metropolitan area, but at the edge of some pretty wild, mountainous country so his concerns make sense. I understand the need and yet I hesitate. I’m very worried about him driving alone in our nice, new car while in possession of a loaded pistol. Why? Because he’s a black man.