Monday, August 30, 2010

hell hath no fury, or something like that (just hand over the library card and no one gets hurt)

Back when Mama was a wee miss, she discovered she had a thing for the written word.

Many written words.

All the time.

I'm nestled around the corner, hiding from the matronly mamas.

It could be said that I have a bit of obsession, really.

So it should not come as a surprise to find that right after securing a place to sleep, and some nominal amount of food in the fridge after any move, I scour the earth for the nearest library. I found mine within hours of arriving in Eugene, in the phone book, old school style.

I took my first mortgage payment stub with me - to prove residency - and the kids and we marched on in, all ready to begin our love affair with our new library system only to be turned away.

Turns out that buying a house in the area is shaky ground, however, a rental/lease agreement would be an in as would a personal letter addressed to me from any old Joe the Letter Writer.

Now those that know me in the flesh, know I can sometimes be too quick to accept a 'no'. I am easy-going like that. But after going several days of unpacking and cleaning without an audio book had taken a toll on me and I found myself arguing that I had used this information to register the kids at school, and that I love books, and that I am trustworthy, yet, nutty book lady, and that no I don't want the stupid piece of paper you keep waving at me.

(Please note: No librarians were injured or insulted during the showdown. I was desperate, but I can't be mean to any librarian, no matter how stubborn she seems to be, especially considering she holds the golden ticket to the goods.)

So I stalked my mailbox for more mail. I complained on Facebook and rallied support from my librarians back home. And when I had a nice stack of mail, addressed to me, showing I am in it to win it here in their fair town, we drove down to the luxurious downtown library where the sullen help there handed me a card.

(Where are the happy book people? I haven't met up with them yet.)
She is worth the wait, no? Better still, there were vegan cupcakes in the cafe, located in the foyer. And to prove myself worthy of citizenship, I supported the local economy and bought one, of course.

Oh the joy.

Took this one on my phone; it is breathtaking...

Friday, August 27, 2010

801*: The move to Eugene report

Eugene, OR

It started off rocky, my emotional stability, as we drove 20 mph to Eugene, where our new home waited for us. A biker nearly clipped my car, and I muttered something murderous. Traveling with two kids and two dogs, heaped with the last of our belongings will do that do a girl. Especially when she's been living on fast food and adrenaline for days.

But we landed safely and just like that opening scene from Wizard of Oz, little by little, the kindly folks of our new neighborhood came out, to welcome us. Picture us, grubby and disheveled, hungry and sweaty - I can only imagine the impression we made, what with Zack pwning everyone and my daughter desperate for dinner - shaking hands like crazy politicians that just rolled into town. I might have even kissed a baby.

So, we've been on a roll. Checking out pools, and parks, and unpacking.

I've been organizing, channeling Martha Stewart and her hordes of naturally tidy people, which I don't count myself among.

I've registered kids at schools, been thwarted at the library (more on that Monday; stay tuned), I've tossed a ball for my dogs a million times.

And then yesterday? We all melted a bit. Moped. I think it was all family reunions at the middle school, when we gave them all our money so Lexi can get educated and such. Everyone continued to be polite and sweet as ever, but we missed our people.

Homesick, I should have taken the kids to the movies or on another adventure but instead I pressed on to the grocery store where they may or may not have behaved like preschoolers, fighting over pushing the cart. I should have went home, my friends, but my kung fu parenting moves were depleted, so I sneered at them and was suddenly thankful to be anonymous. The scene certainly won't make our Christmas letter.

One nap later, and a call to one of my smart girls, and I was ready to be the new girl again, to fix tacos in the kitchen I'm beginning to wonder how I went without.

When it was still light out, I sat on my back stoop, and watched the hummingbirds shimmy about the branches in a tree I've yet to identify, the dogs busting figure eights around the yard.

And when night fell, my neighbor's twinkling lights came on, giving my backyard a magical feel. I sighed. Inside, my kids were tucked in and sleeping off the bad day and my husband was undoubtedly finished mixing up a margarita for me while watching some science channel.

I locked up and crawled in bed.

I am where I belong.

*801 posts, baby. Huzzah

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

new girl on the block

I'm rusty. And not in the wholesome, leading up to some crack about moving to Oregon, sort of way. I'm just rusty and out of practice when it comes to blogging.

But you know that little voice you hear when you are writing frequently, that running monologue as you go about your day, writing invisible sentences in your noggin? It's back. So either I am mentally ill (shut it) or this mama is back.

Now back to unpacking.