I keep checking my own blog as if to see if maybe I wrote anything interesting since the last time I blogged. Nope.
Did you have to do a summer at girl or boyscout camp? I did one summer when I was thirteen. We had to pass a red cross swimming test in order to be able to check out the boats. If you passed such and such level then you could check out a canoe, and another level and you could check out a sail boat, and the third level and you could check out either one of the boats and not have to have a counselor in the boat with you. The third level involved treading water for two minutes while holding your hands out of the water. You had to keep your head above water the whole time. Couldn't stretch out for a nice back float, couldn't let your hands down into the water further than your wrists.
It made two minutes stretch into an eternity. But by golly, you wanted the counselor in someone ELSE'S boat, so you kicked and kicked and kicked . . . I think in the end only six of us passed but four of us were all in the same cabin and so we were happy.
Well, I liken this stage of moving in to the water safety water tread test. On the one hand, you're unpacked enough, things are where they should be enough, that you can get things done. You can do your job, get to church, find at least one phone when the phone rings, make a good meal, get some knitting done.
But on the other hand you are not really swimming. There are still picture frames stacked against two bookshelves, no place for the iron and ironing board, no place for the empty milk bottles to go while they wait for you to take them back to the dairy. Routines are not habits yet. Schedules are easily slaughtered. And the financial safety net is still incredibly flimsy. It's nerve wracking. You want so much to be able to say that this is home, and yet at the same time, you hope noone comes by the house because no, this is not how you want it to look. I *almost* have a place for all of the dog stuff. But not quite -- not quite there yet. I *almost* have my office completely unpacked. But not yet. Still have two boxes left. I know exactly how I want the food storage room to look -- but it'll be months before I have it looking like that. I know what I want for my birthday -- I want spice racks, because if I have to dig through the tiny, narrow cupboard they're in right now one more time looking for the powdered mustard, I'm going to fling them all against the wall until they break.
I feel like we've crossed the better part of the atlantic ocean, and now, having entered some nameless only-partly-poluted-East-Coast port (I can't think of one off the top of my head that I would swim in without some kind of chemical safety gear on) we're treading water from a mile out, just looking at the shore line, and waiting for that last bit of energy that will take us into shore.
tread tread tread tread tread
This week I finished the shawl for my sister-in-law. A mere 7 months after her birthday. I should be ashamed but I'm just happy we didn't get to her next birthday before it was done. One more shawl to go and then I can either knit for myself or get back to knitting for kids. I was going to do a sweater I've been meaning to finish for myself for a year now, but then we had two more births in the family this week and now I'm having second thoughts. I'll read their respective registeries first and then decide. I have to finish this other shawl first anyway.
tread tread tread tread tread
Did you have to do a summer at girl or boyscout camp? I did one summer when I was thirteen. We had to pass a red cross swimming test in order to be able to check out the boats. If you passed such and such level then you could check out a canoe, and another level and you could check out a sail boat, and the third level and you could check out either one of the boats and not have to have a counselor in the boat with you. The third level involved treading water for two minutes while holding your hands out of the water. You had to keep your head above water the whole time. Couldn't stretch out for a nice back float, couldn't let your hands down into the water further than your wrists.
It made two minutes stretch into an eternity. But by golly, you wanted the counselor in someone ELSE'S boat, so you kicked and kicked and kicked . . . I think in the end only six of us passed but four of us were all in the same cabin and so we were happy.
Well, I liken this stage of moving in to the water safety water tread test. On the one hand, you're unpacked enough, things are where they should be enough, that you can get things done. You can do your job, get to church, find at least one phone when the phone rings, make a good meal, get some knitting done.
But on the other hand you are not really swimming. There are still picture frames stacked against two bookshelves, no place for the iron and ironing board, no place for the empty milk bottles to go while they wait for you to take them back to the dairy. Routines are not habits yet. Schedules are easily slaughtered. And the financial safety net is still incredibly flimsy. It's nerve wracking. You want so much to be able to say that this is home, and yet at the same time, you hope noone comes by the house because no, this is not how you want it to look. I *almost* have a place for all of the dog stuff. But not quite -- not quite there yet. I *almost* have my office completely unpacked. But not yet. Still have two boxes left. I know exactly how I want the food storage room to look -- but it'll be months before I have it looking like that. I know what I want for my birthday -- I want spice racks, because if I have to dig through the tiny, narrow cupboard they're in right now one more time looking for the powdered mustard, I'm going to fling them all against the wall until they break.
I feel like we've crossed the better part of the atlantic ocean, and now, having entered some nameless only-partly-poluted-East-Coast port (I can't think of one off the top of my head that I would swim in without some kind of chemical safety gear on) we're treading water from a mile out, just looking at the shore line, and waiting for that last bit of energy that will take us into shore.
tread tread tread tread tread
This week I finished the shawl for my sister-in-law. A mere 7 months after her birthday. I should be ashamed but I'm just happy we didn't get to her next birthday before it was done. One more shawl to go and then I can either knit for myself or get back to knitting for kids. I was going to do a sweater I've been meaning to finish for myself for a year now, but then we had two more births in the family this week and now I'm having second thoughts. I'll read their respective registeries first and then decide. I have to finish this other shawl first anyway.
tread tread tread tread tread
2 comments:
Well, for what it's worth, we're at month 16 in our house. Less than half the rooms are painted or finished. We're still dealing with AT LEAST 5 boxes that aren't where they need to be (unpacked, stored or whatever). I think you're doing pretty darn good, all things considered. Cut yourself a break.
I love the new look!
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