It's been 6 weeks since we moved to Mechanicsburg.  So much work, so many transitions.  Just quickly, here are some things I'm grateful for.

1. Neighbors!  I've met three of them so far.
2.  Fireflies. The light show out here is amazing.
3. Kids playing outside.  Not as much as I would like, but some.  Watching Havah ride her tricycle around is especially satisfying.
4.  Birds.  Robins, bluebirds, mourning doves, sparrows, mockingbirds, bluejays, cardinals, goldfinches, and a bunch of others I haven't learned the names for yet.
5.  Electricity.  Already we've had two power outages, one lasting 4 hours and one lasting 18.  Some generous friend let us borrow their generator in case these events continue.
6.  Hospitality.  I really should start keeping a guest book.  I love that we've had so many people out to visit, love that our table can stay permanently extended
7. Sand.  A huge sandbox, and enough to share.
8. Berries.  Mulberries and black raspberries.  How wonderful to harvest what I have not planted!
9.  Plumbing.  Specifically, toilets that flush, showers that work, and a kitchen sink.
10. Soil.  I've been digging in it, knees to earth, planting, hoping that these little seeds do their thing. It is a beautiful world!

Adventure of the week

This is one of those experiences I want to remember, the kind that is so vivid now that I think I couldn't possibly forget, but I've learned to trust my memory less as the memories accumulate, layer, and ultimately blur over time.  So I'll try to write this down, with a minimum of analyzation.

We've been looking for a house for a long time. As in, last year Darrel gave up looking for houses for lent.  I have lists and lists of houses that we've explored from our desk, using zillow and google maps and dauphin/cumberland county gis mapping to determine if a particular property was worth of a drive by, or for the select few, an interior examination.  Our list of requirements was daunting:

• 1.5 acres cleared land suitable for growing vegetables
• Adequate water source (well preferred)
• Potential for other income (4 bedroom or in-law suite/apartment)
• 15 miles maximum from our current home
• Maximum of 1 hour to one in-law
• First floor bathroom
• Handicap accessible

And then there was our wish list

• 3 acres tillable land
• Shade trees near the house and/or a wooded area
• Less than 1 hour to both in-laws
• 10 miles from our current home
• Fireplace, wood stove, or the option to install one
• Open kitchen and dining room
• Bedroom on first floor
• Existing outbuildings
• Proximity to bike trails, train tracks, and library 

There were a couple of intangibles we didn't even attempt to quantify, mainly proximity to people we already knew and school district, which are rabbit trails worthy of their own posts.

Last May, we got very excited about a potential property on N. 36th Street that was being auctioned the traditional way.  We got our ducks in a row and showed up at the auction with a certified check in case we had the opportunity to make a deposit.  Alas, we had set our cap at $180,000, and bidding went to $220,000, resulting in significant disappointment and all kinds of internal questions.  There was a property on Fairmont Drive that initially appealed to Darrel but not to me, but after I spontaneously visited it during an open house, it started to grow on me, and quite honestly, we were thinking that we might settle for it in the spring/summer.  The housing market has been pretty sluggish during the winter, and we didn't want a move to necessitate a change of schools in the middle of the school year, so we were just laying low and keeping abreast of the options via an email blast from a realtor whenever something went on the market that had at least 1.5 acres.

On February 11, a property went on the market that piqued my interest.  1330 Williams Grove Road:  5 acres, 4 bedrooms, 3 baths, 2300 square feet, near Mechanicsburg, needs TLC--that was the extent of the listing information.  Three pictures were added the next day, all of the exterior.  Further internet searching revealed that it was a bank owned property, last sold in 2002 for $150,000.  It had been on the market in 2012 for $275,000 before it was foreclosed, and was going to be auctioned AS IS on a website called Hudzu.  The biding opened at $100,000 with an unknown reserve; auction ended on February 18.  We had been peripherally interested in other bank owned, internet auctioned properties and had noticed that they often went through multiple bidding cycles, so we anticipated that this property would do the same, which would give us time to check it out after the 12 inches of snow from storms number 4 and 5 had melted.  I called the listing agent, who didn't have any additional information to share about the house, never having seen it himself.  We made tentative plans to visit it on February 20, two days after the auction ended (remember, we thought that no one would buy it and it would remain available).

On February 17, I checked its status online.  Pictures of the interior had been added, but most surprising was that a party had placed a bid.  Rats.  That meant that if we were really interested in it, we had to act.  On February 18, the kids had a two hour delay, and I decided it wasn't worth going in to work for 2 hours, so I drove to Mechanicsburg, hoping to peek in the windows and get the lay of the land.  I parked on the road and trudged down the snowy driveway.  When I got closer to the house and saw a truck parked there, my brain went into high alert mode.  Was it the realtor?  Was it someone who had come to strip copper pipes and wires?  I took a picture of the license plate, hoping that whoever found my body would look at my cell phone for clues to my demise.  After hiding under the arbor with two cats for a while, I got bold and walked toward the door just as two men were leaving.  They said that they were also interested in the property and had found it unlocked.  So I went inside, safe and unscathed, no thanks to my overactive imagination.

We already knew from the pictures that it had a great room (no walls between kitchen, living, and dining areas).  The photos hadn't done justice to the size of the kitchen, particularly of the counter space and storage in it.  A fireplace! A first floor bathroom!  A large mudroom with laundry area on the first floor!  In-law quarters, complete with kitchen/living/dining area, bathroom, and a separate entrance!  Evidence that a whole house generator had once been installed!  Three large bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, with large closets and an amazing built in desk!  No basement, so hopefully that meant no mold.  The house was built in 1978, after the age of plaster, lead paint, and asbestos. The outbuilding was huge--a pole barn in good condition with its own electric panel.  And trees!  Of special attention, four trees that had been planted in an 8' square approximately 20 years ago, just begging for a tree house to be built in them.

Of course, the house was filthy and the aforementioned cats had taken up residence in it. Clearly it needed to be cleaned and painted, and much of the carpet would have to be ripped out.   I had no idea if the furnace worked, or if the roof leaked, or if the well water was safe, or if the septic system was clogged, or whether the foundation had settled. Still, if we got it for a good price, we could deal with some repairs.

That night after the kids were in bed, Darrel and I met in the mudroom to plan our strategy.  Bidding ended at 10 p.m., but Hubzu had a 15 minute rule:  if anyone placed a bid in the last fifteen minutes, the deadline would be extended 15 minutes from that bid, until the point at which there was no activity for 15 minutes.  We decided that we would go up to $140,000.  There was a bit of a bidding battle from 9:30-10:30 p.m., as four parties placed multiple bids on the property (including one party who we presumed was a neighbor we had met).  Finally, at 10:45, our bid of $135,000 had been uncontested for 15 minutes, the reserve had been met, and we thought briefly about breaking out our sole bottle of wine for a celebration.

The deal was far from over, though, as we had 48 hours to sign the contract and return it with a 5% deposit. The next two days were filled with phone calls, faxes, and a flurry of signatures, and a significant amount of aggravation as the seller and its agents in India responded slowly to requests to modify the contract.

So now we're in a waiting phase--we've done all that we need to do, but until we get a ratified contract from the seller and ultimately, until we get to closing, we just have to hang loose.  Hopefully Darrel will get to look around inside the house sometime soon (he visited with our realtor on Saturday, but it didn't work out for him to go inside).   The mortgage company will do an appraisal which may be complicated by the need to turn on the electric.  After closing, we'll roll up our sleeves and figure out how much of a mess we've gotten ourselves into!

Of course my mind is spinning, as we think about moving and all that entails.  I had kind of forgotten about the packing part of relocating!  And we'll need to look for renters for our current house, and possibly renters for the apartment at the new house, and help the kids work through their sadness at leaving schools and friends here (though they will finish the school year here even if we move in April).  And while I had resigned myself to putting plans for farming on hold until 2015, the timing of this makes farming in 2014 a possibility, so I'm weighing options.  All in all, it's been a very eventful week, and the adventure has only just begun!

Eddie Eagle

Our youngest came home from school on Monday proud of her new coloring book.  "We watched a video about Eddie Eagle, and I got this special coloring book," she said in that cute breathy way that 3 year-old females in our family talk. "Eddie Eagle says 'Stop!  Don't touch! Leave the room! Tell an adult!'" she said in the authoritative voice usually reserved for bossing siblings around.  I laughed, proud that she had absorbed the message so well, proud that this gun-safety lesson was information she would not need in our firearm-free house.  And then today, I see this headline:  4 year old shot, killed by 4 year old cousin in Detroit.  And I'm not laughing about Eddie Eagle anymore.

A lifetime later

At 18, I stayed up all night all summer.  Of course, I slept by day, but every evening at 11 p.m., I went on duty as a personal care assistant.  I was working at a home for people with severe developmental challenges, folks on feeding tubes, with muscles atrophied from disuse, for whom a grunt might be a milestone in communication.  After checking each resident, changing diapers, rotating limp bodies to new positions to prevent bedsores, mopping floors, and gathering laundry, I’d make my way to the nurses’ station.  There the other women pulled out their craft projects, knitting, crocheting, and gabbing their way through the long night.  Ears wide open and fingers fumbling with my half-finished dishcloth, I listened to stories of shopping adventures and struggles with spouses. What shocked me most was Mary’s admission that every night, after her kids were in bed and before she went to work, she got down on her hands and knees to mop the kitchen floor.  What unholy hooligans she must have, I thought, who track mud so ungratefully onto her gleaming tiles.  Or what high standards of cleanliness she ascribed to, that she would be offended by specks of dust not yet gathered into lagomorphan lumps. 

At 36, a lifetime later, I crouch on bended knee. Wet rag in hand, I scrub away the remnants of supper, the scribbles of marker that didn’t stay in the lines, the splatters of milk and juice now dried into circles of grime. My standards are not particularly high, nor are my children, now sleeping, particularly messy, so this ritual is repeated not daily but at random intervals through the month.  I always start in the same corner and work my way around the table, moving the chairs just barely, imagining them still heavy with their occupants (or, quite honestly, too lazy to do the job right and relocate them to the other room).  I kneel in the silence, putting to right, focusing not on the likelihood that more milk will spill tomorrow, but on this smudge, this crumb, this drop of wine smeared across these floorboards, now sanctified.

block by block

In my dream, I visited a city, where each block had a tree decorated with flowers and balloons. When's the party? Or maybe there's going to be a parade? Or perhaps, as in Nigeria, the president is coming to town and people have prettied the place up. Then a neighbor told me of the tradition that when a person dies, the family sets up a memorial at the spot where they were killed.

The dream dissolves and I drive around in a daze. Here, armed men broke into a house and killed the resident after robbing him. Here, a car crashed into a tree while police were in pursuit. Here, a man on a stolen motorcycle lost control. Here, a taxi driver was shot on a Sunday morning while the church across the street was singing Alleluia. Here, a jealous boyfriend dispatched his competition. Here, a nine year old girl crossing the street after buying candy was hit by a truck. Here, a barfight ended with a knife. Here, a car collided with an 8 year old boy in a crosswalk, his parents just out of reach of his hands to pull him to safety. Here, the foul odor tipped off neighbors to the body stuffed in the trunk. Here, an evening stroll was cut short by gun shot. Here, a basketball game was lost, as was a life.

My neighborhood is a rosary of sorrows and at each station of the cross I pause to remember the suffering.

The car of my dreams

I've been fantasizing recently about buying a diesel VW Beetle. It's a moderately irrational fantasy, given that A) we don't have a couple grand burning a hole in our pockets, and if we did, we should probably save it for a rainy day because we've had so much sunshine in our lives it seems that clouds should be gathering soon, and B) a two-door vehicle is completely impractical with small children. Still, every week or so I jump on craigslist to see what's out there. What's fueling this fantasy? Ha. no pun intended, but it's fuel (well, that, and the attractiveness of driving a vehicle that's described by some as "perky," a word that seems the antithesis of "minivan.") I watched a movie by that title last year and became convinced that biodiesel is the answer, at least to one of life's persistent questions--how to support a mobile society without being complicit in the global-warming, pollution-producing, war- justifying system of oil? Of course, I'm easily swayed by compelling arguments, and was ready to buy an electric car after seeing the movie Who Killed The Electric Car (except at that time there weren't any electric cars available because they were all dead, and now that they've been resurrected, they're way out of our price range). I hope no one makes a movie about natural gas cars, because then I'd have to rethink my position on the Marcellus Shale mess.

My fantasy has some merit. We prided ourselves on being a one car family for years, and only bought a second vehicle when we started the farm project. Darrel only uses the 1997 GMC Safari on rainy days and in super cold weather; other than that he bikes to work and the red van is dedicated to the farm. Three kids pushed us beyond the capacity of a sedan into a minivan, but I groan at the mileage we get with our kid carrier, a 2002 Honda Odyssey. A little, fuel efficient car for running errands while the kids are at school, going on solitary trips, driving individual kids to appointments, etc. would be perfect. What would be even better is if we could find someone to share it with. Any takers?

Gy;m reflections

I've been going to the gym for about two months now. Some random reflections:

I think that perhaps one of the essential life questions is not, "Who am I and what have I done?" but "Who am I and what have I done with what I've been given?"

I still think there should be some way to harness the energy of all those treadmills, ellipticals, and stair climbers.

I've been happy with the amount of ethnic diversity (though still moderate) I've seen at the gym. One of my concerns when joining was that I was supporting a white middle class establishment.

I've also been surprised by the number of senior citizens working out, though as Darrel points out, "if anyone has a right/reason to be at a gym, it's senior citizens."