Musings of a New New Englander

Gentle Reader,
I have been remiss in keeping up with posts about  the many goings on in these parts. I have started and left unfinished several riveting posts... such as:

A silly, yet informative tutorial on How To De-Skunk a Dog.

Complete with photo illustrations.

A collection of beautiful...

and interesting...

and odd 

sights seen whilst on my daily wanderings about the neighborhood.

Including this house built in 1690. 

A post about a funny note that the Truthist left for us on his door.

The good news that Bailey and Gunner became best buds (in spite of his

lingering aura of Skunkiness)

Just a cute picture of the ever-adorable Norah--

who liked Gunner all along.

And the interesting side-note that we are living

in Winnie-the-Pooh's neighborhood.

I may still finish those and post them if they don't get too far past their freshness date. But in the meantime, I have a list of some observations I have made about our new surroundings:

1. I no longer make the mistake of going up Cod Fish Hill Road instead of staying on Dodgingtown Road when I am on my way home from the church. But I always smile as I drive by Cod Fish Hill Road.

There is definitely a British feel in road and town names.

2. I have a new friend who gave me these directions to her house: take Cemetery, then Flat Swamp. Next turn onto Poor House and the next road is ours. You have to give the Colonists credit for being clear--if a little depressing, when it came to naming their roads. 

3. I love the accents here. I sometimes forget to pay attention to what is actually being said because I am thinking--"He sounds like John F. Kennedy." or "Is she from New York? Oh yeah, New York is just a few miles from here."

4. The school nurse has a full-on Connecticut accent and Sam has had to go to her a couple of times when he was feeling sick. Later at the dinner table, he gives a complete re-inactment with a spot-on impersonation.

"Oh, youah face is  flushed, commeah and let me take youah tempacha."

I'm sure they get a kick out of our odd western accent so I mean this as a celebration of regional differences and in the most loving way. And in the interest of full disclosure, sometimes Sam reads during family scripture time with that accent and we have to put a stop to it in order to maintain the dignity--but he is very good at it.

5.  I love that school is dismissed for Jewish holidays. Not just because it's a break but because it has prompted me to look up the meanings of Rosh Hashanah  and Yom Kippur. I have a greater appreciation for the meaning behind their holy days and I hope the boys do too.

6. The roads here are, as described by another transplant "spaghetti roads". They wind and meander and no two meet up exactly at a so-called intersection.  They all remind me of Forest Home Road for any of my Camas readers. They are over arched by beautiful trees and it feels like I am driving in a tunnel of greenery wherever I go. I'm still a bit surprised when I come out of the leafy reverie into a shopping area. It's like Target or Costco was plopped down in the middle of a forest.

7. There has definitely been a change in seasons. I am enjoying jacket and sweater weather for the first time since we left the Northwest. It was a warm and humid summer and then one morning, I let the dog out and there was a crisp, nip in the air. Fall is here. The leaves are changing and it is spectacular. Even the Truthist is somewhat excited about the seasons changing. He almost got a little--dare I say--giddy, talking about cozy winter evenings by the fire. 

8. I like that shopping carts are called "carriages". It sounds so elegant. 

9. I love that there are American flags everywhere around here. I thought it was just a July thing when we first moved here a few days before the 4th,  but they are still up on almost every telephone/power pole and on many mailboxes and at every important building. Our town is famous for its giant flag pole--100 feet tall-- right in the middle of the street in the middle of town.

10. I love the people here. Our ward has been friendly and kind to us. We've been invited to Sunday dinners and enjoyed the company of good, stalwart families with stories of living overseas and other adventures. Everywhere I go I have met interesting and talkative people. I thought New Englanders were aloof but I haven't seen that. Maybe the more rural Connecticut is different. 

So, those are my rambling thoughts on our adventures. We are off to New Jersey this weekend to visit our son and his family and take a little jaunt into Philly. The Dead Sea Scrolls are on exhibit there and we plan to take that in as well as any other history we can squeeze into our trip. I promise to take pictures and get that into a post.

Eventually

Wait! Is August Over Already?

Gentle Reader,
So, here we are on the other side of the continent. We moved from sea to shining sea. A few weeks ago I went to a tag sale--that's what they call garage sales here--not far from where we live. I thought it would be  a good way to get to know some people in the neighborhood. It's lovely that every home is surrounded by a few acres of yard, but it makes it difficult to chat with your neighbors when you are all separated by rolling lawns and forests. The couple at the tag sale were very friendly--they told me they had grown up in Connecticut. Everyone I talk to is amazed that we would trade sunny California for what will soon be frigid Connecticut. I told her we had lived in the Pacific Northwest for many years and we were used to a cooler climate--though snow would be a new experience. I told her I was looking forward to Fall and the change of seasons.  "You have lived in some of the most beautiful places on earth! How lucky you are! I am sure you will just continue to live a very blessed life!" my new neighbor gushed. I had heard that New Englanders are a bit reserved--she certainly shattered that stereotype.

I am not going to argue with her conclusion...

Some of the local flora in our back yard

This flowering Butterfly Bush in our front yard certainly lives up to its name!

Every day when I walk past it to get the mail, dozens of pretty butterflies are flitting around it.

Gunner has adapted to his new environment--he traded in crushed granite for grass.

Here's a favorite spot down the road from us

A place to get amazing ice cream and enjoy it whilst gazing out at the cows

We stopped by for a Back to School treat

Shane doesn't like his picture taken so this will have to suffice

We are preparing for the chilly winters here with a woodstove to keep us cozy.

 I finally got my dream come true library in this house.

And I finally got all of the books on the shelves.

Another preparation for a cozy winter.

P.S. I got the wicker-bottom chairs at my friendly neighbor's garage--I mean TAG--sale:

They are the perfect addition to round out the seating at our craigslist table.

Getting to Know our New Town

So, we moved to a new town called...

...Newtown

But new in this case is relative. The church you see there was built in 1720.

Back when the town really was new. The town was founded in 1709.

This is another very old church right across the street.

Here you see our two daughters and adorable grandson

gazing upon the local library.

Which is also a museum.

We loved this cool old bike.

And really love this quote posted near it.

This is the Newtown Historical Society.

Appropriately housed in a very old house.

I will have to go take the tour to find out just how old.

We took a little stroll along main street  and enjoyed the beautiful old homes.

I really love the detail of this fence and mailbox.

We enjoyed a delicious lunch at the General Store.

Then we headed back home..

...to enjoy more entertainment courtesy of 

this little guy.

The Odyssey

One of the joys of moving to a new state and starting over is the opportunity to get new licenses-- for driving and for the cars. This meant spending some quality time at a favorite place of mine: The DMV.

Here I learned all about the beauty of the bureaucracy of my new state.

I started out optimistically that morning--Andy had already done his time at the DMV and had the paperwork partially done on my car. I just had to take it to get "Smogged" as they say around here and bring in the proof that it passed the very strict California Emissions Test.

So I showed up at the local DMV, (which happens to share the same strip mall as our local Wal Mart) with the "Smog Report" in hand and stood in line.

I was handed some paperwork to fill out and told to come back when I was finished.

"Don't get in line again, just come over here and I'll give you a number to wait for the next step."

There were going to be steps? This did not bode well.

It seemed my desire to obtain a Driver's License AND Car License was a little too complicated for the Department of Motor Vehicles.

"What!? This woman wants to save time? Where does she think she is? McDonalds? Hahahahaha!"

So I sat and waited. It gave me time to study the manual for the Driver's test so it wasn't TOO BAD. But I actually had the crazy notion that I would finish and get back home in time to pick up the three youngsters and make it to the Bishop's Storehouse in time for us to fulfill our commitment to volunteer that afternoon/evening.

Silly me.

I finally got called up and was told to take some more paperwork and go fetch my car, park it in a certain space reserved for inspection, put the hood up and wait there for a professional VIN # writer-downer to come out and write my VIN number on the paperwork.

I dutifully followed directions. I sat in my car with the hood up and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Did I mention it was 90 degrees out?

Although my car had passed it's emissions test, I didn't think they would want me running the engine for air conditioning right in front of the DMV.

So, I waited and sweated.

And waited some more.

After about 45 minutes, someone pulled up next to me and opened the hood of his car.

He sat in his car about 5 minutes.

Then, here comes the DMV worker.

He did have the intelligence to do the paperwork of the sweaty, angry-looking middle-aged woman first. But, then he immediately turned to the guy next to me and did his.

Next, I had to park my car away from the special reserved spots--but there was not a parking spot in sight. I circled the parking lot and then ended up out in the north forty in the Wal Mart parking lot.

I trekked back to the DMV and got back in line for STEP 3.

By now the line was a mile long (thus the full parking lot). I waited patiently and enjoyed a little 'people watching'--a favorite pastime of mine.

I counted three people with black eyes.

One with stitches in his lip.

What does this say about my new community?

I finally worked my way back up to the giver of numbers. She asked me what I was there for. I explained that I hoped to accomplish TWO tasks: A driver's license for me, AND a license for my car. This was baffling for her. She finally picked a number and wrote something cryptic on it. I think it said: "Trouble-maker"

I settled in for another long wait.

When I finally got called up again, I was lucky enough to get the one worker in the whole place who was new on the job. She had no idea what she was doing. She kept waiting for the guy next to her to pause in his efficient helpfulness to ask him what to do next.

We got through the confusion over my Washington License:

"Where is the number? Oh, your name is part of the number? Weird."

Then through the confusion over my passport.

"Where is the number?..."

And the confusion over why the heck I was there.

"You want a license?

For you?

And for your car?"

Then, she decided I could have the plates for my car, which she had locked right there in her desk. But first, I had to go remove the Washington plates from my car and bring them to her.

"You MUST SURRENDER your old plates before I can give you the new ones."

Well, I happened to know that Andy had removed his old plates at home, and they were sitting in the garage. I had the audacity to mention this to the DMV worker.

"OH NO! You MUST SURRENDER your Washington plates!"

I was starting to feel like a criminal. Those contraband plates from out of state were apparently verboten.

I immediately tried to placate her with humility and apology.

"Of course I will remove the plates and bring them back to you. But... do I have to get in line again? Please don't make me get in line again."

"You can get a screwdriver from the front desk over there--"

THEN, suddenly, her heart grew THREE SIZES and she said:

"You don't have to wait in line. Here are your California plates."

She started to hand them to me, then pulled them back.

"BUT YOU HAVE TO PROMISE that you will surrender your Washington plates!"

"Oh, I will! I promise! Anything you say, just don't make me wait in line again!"

Then, I was entrusted with the glorious plates of California.

And I walked over to the testing counter and stood in line again.

I had plenty of time to study for the California driver's test. I had been in the DMV for 3 1/2 hours. But they have a few quirky laws that I hoped would not be on the test.

Of course they were.

Yet, it came to pass that I passed!

The corrector of tests even gave me a little bit of encouragement:
"You did well."

I had considered the fact that the picture on my license would be there for the next five years. I took some extra time with the grooming that morning with that in mind. But, alas, I had now sweated, and waited myself into a mess. But I didn't care, I just wanted to get it over with.

At least my eyes are open.

I was given a Temporary California License

But I still had one more quest in my Odyssey of Licensing.

I had to get the screwdriver from the front desk and go remove my old plates.

I must keep my promise to the Lady of Recent Hiring.

I was handed a giant phillips and also a huge flathead screwdriver--because, silly me, I didn't know which type of screws were holding my evil Washington plates in place.

I crossed the vast wilderness that was the Walmart parking lot and located my car. I pried off the "BYU Alumni" plate holder and unscrewed the plate on the back.

Then did the same with the front. The plates carried the dirt and grime of much driving.

I attached the glorious plates of California to my car.

Then made the return trek to the DMV with the screwdrivers and the dirty plates.

I turned them into the giver of numbers. And she did thank me.

And I did travel again in the wilderness for the space of many minutes, back to my car.

And thus we see, that it is better to pass through sorrow at the DMV that we may appreciate our lives and be filled with gratitude that we only have to do that once or maybe twice in our sojourn here on earth.

New Home, Sweet Home

Lizards instead of slugs. This was the family room 2 weeks ago--

Not quite ready for the "after" picture because

we still need to hang pictures.

Andy's "after" picture looks the same:

This little fella was packed away for 9 months:




Now he's perched back up on his roost in the kitchen:
(he's at the far left over there--barely in the picture!)




We ate outside for the first few weeks until we got a
dining table...that's fresh strawberry lemonade and
peach lemonade!





Our back yard at sunset:

Sooooo many boxes--luckily there are lots of

helpers here:

Uncle Seth taking a break with little "Bales"

Our first Sunday dinner on our new table--Scott & Nicole

made a DELICIOUS meal for us!

(this is the replacement for the

big, round Amish table that I left behind at the old house--it's not round.

And it's not Amish, I believe it's agnostic.)