DISNEY!

Can you believe it? We are here for 8 days. Well, we are in the park for 6 days. But, seriously. DISNEY!

By the way, we miss New Mexico but love Portland. We live in the best neighborhood and the kids go to a great school. 

The people are so kind. I feel like I live in a community. We walk everywhere, even in the rain. In the short time we’ve been here, I already have the dog, hermit crabs and fish boarded with one new friend, the turtles with another, and the next-door neighbor checking for packages and on trash duty. I’m on a first name basis with the mail carrier, David. He’s holding our mail until we get back. Gerry has a horrendous drive to work – the only downfall so far. But we are working on that. We also haven’t found a church home yet, but are working our way through all the NE Portland churches week by week. We have definitely felt the spirit.

But before we even thought we would move to Portland, my mother planned this amazing Disney World trip for my sister’s family, our family, and her. We are so blessed to be here. She and my sister drove down yesterday and we flew in this evening. It’s been a long day, but we are happy to be here. Of course, it’s 10:23 and Billy and Lindsay are still awake, so we’ll see how tomorrow goes. Epcot with tired people is iffy at best.

The last 4 months have been jam packed with so many huge events that I’m beginning to wonder if I am becoming a Chaos Junkie.

Chaos –n The state of disorder and/or confusion. Ravage! Bedlam! Havoc! Pandemonium!

Junkie –n A person who is consumed by an addiction.

Chile Festival. Getting the Corrales House ready to sell. House hunting in Portland. Lindsay’s birthday. Moving. Halloween. New schools. Thanksgiving. DISNEY! Christmas?

I know chaos junkies and they don’t think they have a problem, so perhaps admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. I actually look forward to boredom.

But it isn’t going to happen this week!

You're Moving?

Friday was spent moving out the remainder of our goods, cleaning the house for the final time, and saying goodbye to good friends. Billy ‘graduated’ from SOTVP by ceremoniously sliding down the slide. Lindsay checked out of school early and spent the afternoon sewing with Ms. Holly where they made a Dr. Seuss hat to match the one Billy received early from his school party. I picked Karl up from Corrales ES for the last time. His backpack was so full, I could barely carry it. All three had a great ‘last day’.

 

Me: Congratulations! When we get to Portand, you'll be in Kindergarten.You are finished with preschool.
Billy: Already?

We said goodbye to our home.

Me:  Let’s say a prayer.

Billy: Mom, are you sad?

Me:  Yes. But I’m excited too.

Billy: Me too.

Not willing to sleep on the cold, brick floors, we gratefully accepted an offer from the Rhoades to bunk there for the night. Kathy prepared a barbeque feast, the kids roasted hot dogs and marshmallows in the outdoor kiva, and I sat down for what felt like the first time in a week. It was so wonderful to be surrounded by good friends and family.

We parted Albuquerque at 8:30 AM on Saturday, headed for Price, Utah.  The drive was fairly uneventful until about Farmington when the dog threw up in the car and then the parking lot of KFC. Afterwards, we had to stop every hour or so to let Daisy relieve herself in one way or another. We’re still not sure if she was car sick or ate one too many marshmallows at the Rhoades’ home.  She’s better today, and that’s what really counts.

Sheepish, pukey dog

Karl:  Are we still in New Mexico?

Gerry:  Yes.

Karl:  I can tell by the landscaping.

Not New Mexico.

Colorado River

I’ve posted some of these events and photos to Facebook. What truly makes me chuckle is that every time Gerry or I post something about moving, someone invariably – and honestly, I believe – posts something along the lines of, “You’re moving?” I feel like moving has filled my entire plate for the past 3 months, with the Chile Festival on the side.  Have I not been clear about that?

And if any of you post to my timeline, “You’re moving?” then I’m unfriending you. 

P.S. GTHCGTH

Movers & Packers

Three packers arrived at 9 AM Monday morning. They were quickly followed by two guys who came to make crates for the art and antiques. Felix also arrived for day 3 of 4 of wall repair. [He was amazing, by the way. If you need house work done, get his number from me. He’s a general contractor but also does minor repairs.]

While they hurried around me working, I got 3 stars on several levels of Angry Birds, caught up on email, cleared up several documentation SNAFUs with the Portland lender, hired someone to pull out the cat-dander-riddled basement carpet at the Portland house, and balanced my checkbook. Everyone was gone by 3 pm.

Lather, rinse, repeat for Tuesday. Except this day everyone was gone by 2:15 since the packers ran out of boxes. They were gone by noon on Wednesday.

‘Tis the land of mañana after all. So the kids and I called friends and spent the afternoon at Explora. Fun! While there I got a call from our van driver’s wife.

Me:  Hello? This is Lara.

Gail:  Hello. This is Gail. My husband is scheduled to pick up your load tomorrow. But he’s sick. Will it be OK if we come on Friday instead?

Me:  Uh…  Sure…  That’s fine…

Gail:  OK. See you Friday.

When I last talked to our relo coordinator she gently told me to “make friends” with the driver. It would ensure our delivery would get there on schedule. So my first thought when I hung up was, “Dang! I didn’t even tell her that I hope he feels better.” It was followed closely by, “WHAT?!? Can he call in sick to me?”

They showed up today at noon, regardless of illness. It could have something to do with the email I send to the relo coordinator this morning. But I’m guessing he just feels better. Half the house is loaded; the other half will follow tomorrow.

We are driving out of town Saturday.

The fun part of this is that the kids are bringing home all their school projects and drawings.

Gerry's hair is my favorite in this one

The not fun part is I think I got a CTD in my left thumb from all the Angry Birds. 

Agents of Entropy

en·tro·py  -n [en-truh-pee] 

1.  a thermodynamic quantity that changes in a reversible process by an amount equal to the heat absorbed or emitted divided by the thermodynamic temperature. It is measured in joules per kelvin

2.  a statistical measure of the disorder of a closed system expressed by S  = k log P  + c  where P  is the probability that a particular state of the system exists, k  is the Boltzmann constant, and c  is another constant

3.  lack of pattern or organization; disorder

It’s the second law of thermodynamics. For all you liberal arts majors out there, it goes something like this:  energy spontaneously disperses from being localized to becoming spread out if it is not hindered from doing so. My thermodynamics professor at NC State once said that if you closed up a clean room and did not disturb it for a length of time, when you reopened it, it would be dusty. That’s entropy. More simply, if you turn off the oven, it cools off. When you open a Coke Zero, it goes ppshhht. If you take your bike to Emerald Isle, it rusts.

My children are agents of entropy. They like neither order nor cleanliness and will subconsciously do anything to thwart them. It takes a lot of energy to clean and organize and prepare. And the Raban children will have none of it.  No sooner do I have a box of toys carefully sorted when they have them all unpacked and strewn through the playroom.  Whenever I segregate an item for travel, it is immediately desegregated to the general population.  I am no longer David. I am Sisyphus.

I’m trying desperately to keep my sense of humor about all this. I keep reminding myself that they are just kids, and kids just want to have fun. What’s fun about a house full of boxes and no toys or electronics? Well, hide and seek for one thing. Catching dying grasshoppers to feed to the turtles. Making dinner with Mom.

So, clearly I’ve spent the last week prepping for our upcoming move. We also celebrated Lindsay's birthday. In my spare minutes, I’ve taken a few photos.

Happy 8th, Lindsay!

Los Poblanos Fields

Mr. Ross' truck

Truck detail

I shared with a dear friend today that this move is a real test of my faith. I can feel God stretching me and I just want it to be over. I’m glad he’s not done with me, but I also wish he didn’t trust me so much.

The packers arrived today and the moving truck arrives Thursday. After all that cleaning, you would not believe how dusty my house is. Darn you, Entropy!

The Breakover

Have you ever done this? After a break up, you head straight to the hair dresser and ask for a new you in the mirror. The motivation is obvious: after a bad ending, the thinking goes, you want a fresh start, a new identity, and making a major change indicates a degree of ballsy self-stewardship. I’ve certainly done it. Disappointed and depressed with the inner me, I make an effort to change the outer me.

And, frankly, it can be a step in the right direction. Think Britney Spears beating a car windshield with her newly shaven head. It was mostly uphill from there for her.

And, should we count Samson as the first break-up haircut? That was certainly when he hit rock bottom.

As for me, it’s not rock bottom. And I'm not depressed. But it is a break up. And it is a fresh start.

Dear New Mexico,

It’s not you. It’s me. Even though we have to go our separate ways, we can still be friends. I’ll call and come visit. And you can come see me any time you like. Take care and know that I’ll always love you.

Love,

Lara

APS and Moving Dirt

Goodbye APS

Tonight was “Math Night” at Corrales Elementary. Basically, it is a reason to get together to do math games outside of school and eat pizza. Ideally it promotes community, love of math, and the local pizza joint. Realistically, it’s pretty fun if you have one child and can spend all your time in their grade room, and have nothing else to do on Wednesday night.

Backstory:  Wednesday is short day for APS (Albuquerque Public Schools). Years ago, ‘They’ shortened the school day on Wednesday so the teachers could have a dedicated length of time for planning and continuing ed. ‘They’ also lengthened the other days. So my kids go to school from 8:45 to 3:50 4 days a week and 8:45 to 12:20 on Wednesday. Note that they are in school for less than 4 hours on Wednesday. This includes a lunch and recess. Every Wednesday I ask myself, “What’s the point?” Bake in there 15 minutes on the bus both ways too.

Normally, I’m the Math Night attendance kind of parent. But I had other things I wanted to do today, like go to the zoo. It’s getting down to the last few weeks here and Lindsay wanted to say good-bye to Sheila the Cockatoo. Karl wanted to see the reptiles. Billy wanted to ride the train. When I picked up Karl and Lindsay at the bus stop (snacks packed, hats ready), both announced that they would get a bye on their homework if they went to Math Night.

Did I mention that Lindsay gets a 16-page packet of homework every week? She gets two extra worksheets since she’s in the advanced math group. Karl gets math and spelling each night. They get home at 4 pm. We eat between 5:30 and 6:00. We do other stuff like BSF and soccer and guitar and scouts. And shower. We go to bed pretty early. Everyone is already stressed about moving. Getting homework done on a regular basis is difficult at best. Getting it done this month is beyond difficult.

So we had a lovely time at the zoo.

Lindsay looks over to see if Billy is smiling

He's not, so she takes matters into her own hands

Which gives Billy full license to grab Karl

And so the circle continues

Now they aren't even in their seats

Sigh.

And when I announced at 5 pm we would be missing Math Night, our evening came crashing down.

Why do teachers do this? Why do they think that the kids are in charge of going to extracurricular school events? In fact, I feel the same way about agenda signing, reading logs, and a 16-page homework packet. They make the 2^nd grader in charge and punish the 2^nd grader when it doesn’t happen. Home responsibility doesn’t trickle up, people. That’s inane.

Let me just interject here with a statement that I do believe they should gain independence and responsibility through school. I do think a 5^th grader should have to figure out how to get the current events assignment in on time with limited guidance. But I do not think a 5^th grader needs a signed reading log, especially if said 5^th grader has his nose stuck in a book all day long. And I do not think that a 5^th grader whose parents do not sign the reading log ONE NIGHT should be made to stay in for recess. That’s my fault. Don’t punish him. In fact, I think recess should NEVER be taken away. Ever. Let me also interject that I don’t think all teachers are this way. We’ve had some gems, too. And truly, I feel for them. They get it from me, the principal, the president, the kids. And they are vastly underpaid. And the curriculum is decidedly not good. And, I firmly believe in respecting the adult who is responsible. We make every effort to follow the rules and guidelines handed out by the teacher.

But DO NOT BRIBE MY OCD-PRONE KID WITH NO HOMEWORK IN EXCHANGE FOR ATTENDING AN EVENT IN WHICH THEY HAVE NO CONTROL OVER ATTENDING. Please.

During the middle of my dinner-prep rant about this, Gerry threw out this gem, “What if the Portland schools are no better?” Sigh. This is one of the many, many reasons people home school.

Moving Dirt

Book Club is at my house this Friday. I am so, so, so excited.  I looked around at dinner tonight to evaluate what needed to be cleaned before then, and realized that nothing needed to be cleaned. Maybe one of the reasons my house isn’t selling is because God is trying to teach me to be a better house keeper.  I actually make time to pick up. The kids have lists and responsibilities. The laundry gets put away the day it is washed. There’s no clutter. Pretty soon I’ll have been doing this for 40 days. That’s enough time to make it a habit. And I have to say I’m pretty happy about that. I’ve always wanted to be neater, but have lacked the desire to actually do it on my own. It’s hard.

On the other hand, I am so tired of fluffing pillows and dusting and tucking in the bed covers just so. I want to leave the popcorn droppings where they lay. I hide all kinds of things in the desk I inherited from my grandmother. But she used to do that too, so I don’t feel so bad.

My sister told me this story that her friend Brandy told her when her house was for sale. I’ve looked all over the internet for it, but can’t find it. Sorry if I butchered it. But I got the message I was supposed to get.

One day a monk went to a monastery to devote his life to God. The senior monk welcomed him and asked him to shovel and move a pile of dirt from one side of the chapel to the other. It took him a long time to do the chore. When he was finished, the senior monk asked him to move the pile of dirt back to its original spot. And so it went, day after day, week after week. Finally the novice monk became fed up. He complained that he was just moving dirt back and forth. It was pointless. He wanted to do more for God. And the senior monk explained to him that it wasn’t about the dirt. It was about bringing glory to God in his every day, mundane work.

That’s me, moving dirt. God is at work, even when I do laundry and hide the kitchen counter-top gadgets in the pantry.

God and Rick Astley

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you;    never will I forsake you.”

That’s Hebrews 13:5 (NIV). And it is exactly what I needed to hear today. Plus it makes me think of Rick Astley and 1988. Good times.

My TO DO LIST was wide and varied today. 

• We’ve set up an appointment with our financial planner to stem the financial hemorrhage that is 2 mortgages. 
• I talked on the phone with a great friend and resource in Portland about medical care, public schools, and adoption support groups for about an hour. 
• I had good-bye coffee with another dear friend. 
• I completely spaced lunch with Kristin, which turned out to be okay since she spaced it too. (Lesson: no lunch plans should be made after 9:30 pm.) 
• I went to Costco. (No surprise there. It is a day that ends with Y.) 
• I went to Walmart, a necessary evil, where I ran into Andy. We caught up, said good-bye, then watched a possibly drunk lady back into the car next to us then drive away. So I got to call the Albuquerque police. 
• I also left messages with the Corrales police concerning disposal of some ammunition that we can’t take with us. It is amusing that the Corrales police have an answering machine. If they don’t call back, I guess I’ll just flag Walter down in the carpool lane at the school in a few minutes.
• I drove back and forth to SOTV from Corrales twice.
• I talked to our Corrales Realtor for about 30 minutes and set up an open house.
• I reviewed the radon inspection results with our Portland Realtor. 
• I learned that Realtor should be capitalized.

And it’s only 3:37!   

Tonight, after the kids have eaten, done homework, showered, brushed teeth, been read to, and gone to bed, Gerry and I plan to make the real TO DO LIST.  

But first, I have to walk the dog.