Doe a deer...

a female deer!




Today I have had proof that we do indeed get deer in our yard. And I submit it here for you. She was really quite lovely... especially because we have a fence separating her from the bits of our lawn we care about.

Creature Comforts

I have been on a mission since we moved, namely to transform a pile of boxes and a bunch of empty rooms into something we are able to call home. This mission has consumed most of my mornings, many of our evenings and much of our weekends. We're finally getting to the point at which everything essential is more or less put away, and the rest is woefully out of place.

Homes here have traditionally been built without garages, possibly because if you had an outbuilding around here, it was a barn. While our house was built in 1994, and is therefore not exactly a relic of the old South, we're just around the corner from houses built in the 1890s, and while these homes were not built to the same scale, they were built with the same aesthetic. So... we have no garage.

But surely we have a basement, you ask? No. A shed? No again. An attic? Well, yes, if you call a few sheets of plywood hurriedly thrown over the exposed beams of the ceiling an attic. Our landlord asked us to kindly not step in the unsupported areas, lest we put a leg through said ceiling. And, to be fair, we have a crawlspace. It's accessible from outside the house (the house is raised from the ground by about 3-4 feet) and it consists of a lightbulb, some damp earth covered rakishly by a tarp, a wide assortment of spiders and roaches, and about enough clearance to walk in doubled-over. This has been something of an adjustment, to say the least.

Those of you who saw the garage in our last house will understand how not having a garage might cause us some storage issues. I am a collector, of sorts. I cannot claim to have the more impressive and studied collections that some have, such as that of a person we know who has collected the twine from rolled-up newspapers for years, tied end-to-end, until it was long enough to transect a soccer field from goal to goal several times over. My collections are less intentional... I just can't bear to part with something that has memories attached to it. Well, after a while, almost everything has memories. So, while I have managed to decide to throw away enough stuff to necessitate two trips to the local "convenience center" (read "dump"), I have a really tough time with the last few boxes of miscellanea.

We have, however, succeeded in making a few rooms look livable, which brings me a great sense of accomplishment. So, for those of you who enjoy picturing us in our home... here are some pictures. I must say, moving has one benefit... it's a long-lasting good excuse to "nest."

The Kitchen


















































The Living Room





































































The Guest Room (Monte is displaying just how comfortable he thinks this room is. Hint hint)

Have Shoes Will Walk

Those of you who know me well know that I am not, as Jane Austen may have put it, " a great walker." Sure, I can walk if I must, but it is not my first choice... well, pretty much ever. That's the beautiful thing about choices--when you don't have them, you do not need to rely on free will. I have been pretty much carless during the week. We shipped one of our cars and sold the other. Dan takes the car we have to work in Raleigh. That leaves me at home with the option of going by foot or by foot if I want to leave the house. Yes, you guessed it--I go by foot. It's painful, it's hot, and it's not my preference... but it is also pretty great!

The fun part about living close to the heart of a small town is that you can walk places. We are not so deeply embedded in suburbia that we can't reach town without a car. I have needed to get out of the house some, so necessity has mothered the opportunity to discover that plenty of places are within a 20-minutes leisurely walk. Among other destinations, I can easily reach a coffee shop, town hall, the police station, the post office, two drugstores, a wonderfully authentic Mexican Restaurant, an antique shop, the Saturday Farmer's Market, a couple of beauty parlors and the library.

Aside from a cat call from a passing motorist (yes, I think he meant me, as there was nobody else in sight...) and a few nervous moments when trying to cross main street without a crosswalk (the town isn't big enough to need them, I suppose), walking even felt safe. I have now outfitted myself with a travel pouch (that I can hide under my clothing) containing a house key, my inhaler, my library card, and anything else I think I may need when I set out. Strangely enough, I have yet to need the inhaler. That, and the fact that my clothes are fitting a bit more comfortably lead me to believe that this lack of options has been one of the better things that could have happened to me.

However, I am making one choice for myself that isn't a result of a lack of other choices. I have an appointment with a woman at the local Curves. I'm planning to join, which should give me opportunities to meet other local women and to do something positive for my health. They have already told me that they will start calling me if I haven't come in as planned, so I figure the accountability won't hurt either. Dan and I are thinking about investing in bikes. A bike may allow me to get a bit further or just get places faster. Either way, it will help me get around.

Wish me luck!

Licensed to Drive

I am happy to report that the DMV is the DMV, and it isn't.

Allow me to explain... Dan and I needed to get our NC driver's licenses, so we scrounged around for the requisite paperwork and read the 141-page driver's guide to prepare for--yes--our written driver's test. We drove in to Fuquay-Varina to the License office and went through the required procedures. We both passed the test first time, thankfully! Anyhow, we experienced a wait of a few minutes only, and had smiling, helpful DMV employees make sure we had been taken care of. I was also smiled at or talked to pleasantly by at least 3 other people there with DMV business to take care of. When I froze up identifying street signs by shape and color, I was simply told the correct answers by the person administering the exam.

Now... this is not my usual experience with the DMV. My usual experience is at least an hour long and is more often accompanied by teeth grinding and hair-pulling than it is by smiles and chatter. I have to wonder if registering the car will be quite so pleasant.

TO BE CONTINUED...

From My Room With a View

One of the things that caused us to fall in love with the little house we are renting here is the beauty of its surroundings. The pictures embedded in this entry are actual photos of our home. The links show things I haven't managed to capture on film myself yet.

In order to best appreciate some of the loveliness of our backyard, I have situated my desk near the window so I can glance out as I work. As a result, it is not uncommon for my eye to be drawn to movement outside... most often a rabbit or a squirrel, or perhaps a cardinal, which, as State Bird, is quite appropriate.

Our house is situated on a small stream, which attracts wildlife of other sorts as well. Damselflies and dragonflies frolic, and the water teems with tadpoles. We have even encountered a turtle when he surfaced to breathe. We have also spotted a millipede and a katydid of rather prodigious size, and I have encountered black and yellow mud-dauber wasps in the house on two occasions. We've found that there is quite a variety of spiders here, as well. This one pictured above right has built quite an imposing system of webs in a holly bush. In the early evening we sometimes spot fireflies flitting about. As for those creatures that manage to find their way into the house... MooMoo, as bug sentinel, will find them. I have learned that when she is staring intently at something, it behooves me to look, too.


We have yet to see the deer that roam around in the wooded area beyond the stream, but our neighbor next door spotted one last weekend as she read on her deck, and I look forward to seeing them myself.

On our first visit to the house, I encountered a small gray snake near the stream. Thankfully it wasn't a copperhead, which I have come to understand are common around these parts. We have been advised to create a "snake stick" from an old broom handle to be used to sort of rustle the brush in the more over-grown portions of the yard, thus alerting any snakes that we're coming in, so that they may, avoid wasting their precious venom on us. We promise, we wouldn't appreciate it!

The only gardening we have managed thus far is a bit of the sort that one can do in containers. We have some rosemary, purple basil, culantro, Italian parsley and garlic chives growing, most of which we bought at the farmer's market in town. We have some small flavorless wood strawberries growing uncultivated in our back lawn. They are pretty, but as they aren't appetizing, we just enjoy they way they look.

Our street is pretty quiet. We don't get a whole lot of vehicle traffic, though it isn't uncommon to see a mom out walking with a stroller or a couple with their dog. From our new porch bench, we can sit and watch the neighbors walk by in the evenings. I have noticed two families with collies out for a stroll, and the sight unfailingly reminds me of Lassie... I must say, Lassie looks right at home here.Though the city is now home to about 18,000 people, this street feels much like the very small town this once was not so very long ago.

The trees here are very lovely. We have a variety of deciduous trees on the property, including a weeping willow and a cluster of maple trees. I should not neglect to mention the most prominent evergreen, as I have plans for it come December. (Not to worry, the plans do not include cutting it down!)

Our one sadness about the trees is that they are threatened by the beautiful but devastating kudzu vines that have made such a nuisance of themselves since their introduction in the Southern States. The vine is really quite lovely, creating cascades of green from the tree tops, to the forest floor, but its 12-inches-per-day growth pattern means it quickly overtakes the trees, eventually killing them. Most of the kudzu visible from our yard is technically on property belonging to our neighbors, so there isn't much we can do about it.

I don't seem to tire of the beauty outdoors. I sometimes find myself staring out at the leaves rustling in the wind, or I watch a bird scavenge for grubs in the lawn. There's something so peaceful about our little patch of nature. I look forward to watching it transform along with us as the seasons change.

Stormy Weather and Adaptability

Yesterday brought the first of what promises to be many summer thunderstorms for us. I love it! The storms seem to drop the temperatures considerably and they make an amazing display in sight and sound. So. Cal. didn't offer enough weather for me.

Monte is not similarly enamored of the storms. He's a Southern California cat to the core. He disappeared when the first storm began and only reappeared in the lulls between storms. His tail was low and he sort of slunk around as if trying to be invisible. Once, later in the evening, we found him hunkered down in one of the bathtubs with a wet underbelly. Monte hates to get wet, but apparently the damp bathtub was the best place to hide... second only to a nice cozy spot on Daddy's lap where he spent the remainder of the harrowing night.

MooMoo, on the other hand, started with the first crash of thunder, but then ran to the window to try to find the noise. She was cool as a cucumber, no matter what the weather threatened. She seemed to regard the storm as beneath her notice in the long run. She was safe, happy, and she wanted her dinner, darn it!

I suppose we can draw some sort of moral lesson from the cats. When big, noisy, flashy circumstances present themselves -- especially new and disconcerting ones -- we can either hunker down in the bathtub and try to disappear or go about life with the same vigor and resolve... and wonder what's for dinner. Me, I prefer a good soak (especially in my nice big master bath tub!), but there's something to be said for the MooMoo method. A lot, really.

So... I promise: once I have a nice soak with Mr. Bubble, I'll get back to business.

Flying Cats, Unsweet Tea and Other Improbabilities

July 4 has come and gone... though I imagine it will remain a memorable day for all of the members of our family--two- and four-footed. Most of the day was spent in dread of the coming ordeal made a bit less ominous by the busy-making packing up of what remained of our stuff--the keeper items that had escaped the *real* packing--so that my parents could ship it to us via UPS. (Thanks to Jeff from church for the brilliant idea... and to Mom and Dad for actually making it happen!)

The then coming ordeal, namely a flight to Raleigh via JFK in New York--with two cats as carry-on luggage, was not on our list of things to look forward to. (No, the routing through NY made no sense to us either.) In fact, the getting to Raleigh was the bit none of us wanted to do. The cats knew something was up, but never having flown before, they really could not have imagined what they were in for. I have since consulted with them and they have indicated a preference for never doing it again.

Among the improbabilities referenced in the title of this post is genuine human decency exhibited by airline employees. Delta made big points in my book. You see, we went to the wrong kiosk to check in, and with over a hundred pounds of luggage and 2 cats (one of whom had managed to work his head out of his carrier and was looking for the nearest hiding place should he manage to effect an escape), moving to a new counter was no small matter. We moved to the counter suggested by a Delta employee, only to be told that we were, once again, in the wrong spot.

The nice man at the counter must have read the desperation in my eyes, because he looked at his non-existent line and declared that he could help us afterall. And help he did. He managed to put us and all of our luggage on a *direct* flight to Raleigh with no additional charges for the flight transfer or the over-weight luggage. So, we ended up on a flight that took much less time and got us into the area about 4 hours early. We had to share the flight with a rabbit (which may explain my huge allergy attack that lasted the whole flight), and the cats, albeit sedated, cried like there was no tomorrow for the duration. But we all made it.

There's plenty to tell about the actual move-in process, but I will save that for later. I'm stuck on the improbabilities. Next in my list is genuine human decency in a U-haul employee. It turns out that we, unaccustomed to the ways of the South, may have made a bit of a blunder when it came time to decide that a 28-foot truck really would not fit on our little street. I have since been told that we can park anything that moves in our street and nobody will say boo. (I'll keep that in mind when I need a combine...). Anyhow, we decided to take a reasonably-sized U-haul that would fit in our driveway to Durham load our stuff from the terminal. This meant hiring some muscle to help us, because we had only a few hours in which to accomplish 2 truckloads.

Well, we managed to get a truck from a local self-storage place. The woman who helped us genuinely tried to HELP us--figuring out how she could make everything cost as little as possible and work as conveniently as possible. We left with some keys, recommendations of moving help, and the feeling that we had made a friend.

When we arrived we had no stove and we still have no refrigerator. That has made domesticity a bit more of a challenge. I'm keeping a few perishables on ice and making frequent small grocery purchases... much like people used to do. This lends an air of quaintness to the whole small town life we have moved into. Somehow it's okay here... even though the same arrangement in CA would have driven me crazy. I made dinner for two nights yesterday, and I even baked a cake. I plan to make bread this morning to go with the slow-cooked supper I started yesterday.

However, before domesticity became practical, we did a little bit of eating out. Here's where the third improbability arises. One night we found ourselves at Sonic, "America's Drive-in," and what appears to be the local teen hangout after polite hours. They have a menu full of burgers and dogs and cold treats, and you order from your car or from a speaker system near your outdoor table. I ordered Iced Tea. However, I ordered the very unorthodox "unsweet" variety and was very specific when ordering. When my drink was delivered, it was sweet. I told the nice young man that while it was delicious, I did, in fact, want the unsweet tea. He looked at me like I had 17 eyes. He then rather reluctantly and suspiciously suggested that if I *really* wanted he could bring me some unsweet tea. I apologized and insisted that I really *did* want the unsweet variety. So he repeated that he could take my cup and bring it back with unsweet tea, and then he waited for encouragement. I encouraged him, and he walked away with my cup, shaking his head all the while. He returned, handed me my cup, and waited while I sipped on the fresh drink. He then said, "I can bring you sugar packets so you can sweeten that up..." I thanked him for his offer and insisted that although I realized it was crazy, I actually like my tea that way. Again, he walked away with a look of total bewilderment. I think I may have scarred him for life.

Ah well... life here is different. It's gentler somehow, and I have already found myself slowing down a bit. Waiting in a long grocery line seems less of a crime. Looking at a stranger and smiling is a good thing. Sitting outdoors on the porch in the evening is the norm... and it won't get you shot. The improbable has become possible, and it is providing a much-needed change in perspective. I think I'll pour myself another glass of unsweet tea...

And Miles to Go Before We Sleep...

The last several days have been a whirlwind of activity. We've managed to mostly pack up the contents of our house, load most of the important bits onto a truck (well... onto a truck and then into a trailer--long story... I won't miss Orange County laws.) and take up residence on the floor of the master bedroom with odds and ends (mostly trash) surrounding our borrowed air mattress.

I am reminded that I really hate moving all of our earthly possessions... and I am also reminded that we have far too many of them! The good part is that we will have significantly fewer when we arrive on the right coast. Knowing we will not have a garage makes it easier to decide to throw some things away. Throwing, in general, is something I am loathe to do, since, as mom and I were discussing over box #38, I am sentimental about people and things. I have managed to amass quite an assortment of scraps of paper and nick-nacks that illustrate my history. (You know, I really should get rid of some of those old journals!)

The cats are definitely beginning to become suspicious. They are no longer allowed on their "prison yard walks," as cat behavior dictates that when the people are acting strangely, the kitties should consider finding a good hiding place--preferably somewhere in the neighborhood that is inaccessible to the humans. Monte has illustrated this principle twice when he has managed to sneak out. I'm in no humor to look for him again!

We went to church this morning. Daniel went early to chant matins. I came later with Khouria Ann and Stephanie. It may have been the last service for the foreseeable future that will be sung in 4 parts, because I sang tenor and Daniel sang bass. The service was quite lovely, if a bit long, since we had a few "add-ons." The first of the additions was an service of the removal of the wedding crowns for Dave and Lisa, a lovely couple whose wedding was held after church two weeks ago. The second addition was a beautiful prayer for the journey that Father prayed over us. The last was a Trisagion memorial service for a priest in Northern California who has passed away during the week. Any one of those things would have been enough to make me sniffle a bit. Any two would have been enough to make me shed a few tears. All three... well, I was little more than a puddle.

After the service, Father Andrew talked for a few minutes about his love for us and about Daniel's investment and sacrifice over the years for our little mission parish. He became choked up, and I couldn't help but cry some more. He made an appeal to the small congregation to make the small spiritual vineyard Daniel had helped to plant bear rich fruit--for Daniel. Father presented us with a card signed by all of the parishioners that contained an immensely generous love gift collected by our spiritual family there. After church we talked and hugged and ate an amazing cake Linda made that featured the full, detailed sheet music to "God Grant You Many Years" on the top.

I'd like to take a moment to thank all of the wonderful people at St. John, and, further back, at St. Michael in Whitter, who have embraced us and been such blessings in our lives. I couldn't begin to name the ways we have been enriched by knowing all of the living saints we have met over the past 15 years--both as individuals and together as a couple. We pray that God will grant you many, many years... and that we'll see lots more of you somehow!

Once we left church, we did a bit more move business before going over to Father Andrew's house for a delicious homey dinner and plenty of wine and laughter. All told, it was a very emotional and very special day. These are the moments I treasure in my heart and hope to always remember. We've been very blessed until now, and it is exciting to think that we will be blessed in new ways in a new place.

Still... there is so much to do.

...I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.