We’re here. We’re so happy!
When I last wrote, it was Wednesday morning and we were crossing the border into California. After that we crossed an honest-to-goodness desert and some amazing mountains, about which more later. Scott drove us right past our new town and straight to the end of the road. He wanted the kids to see the sea first, before anything else. And just: wow. Pelicans! Sea lions! So much blue!
And then he brought us home. We’re renting an adorable little (very little) bungalow about half an hour’s drive from his office, which is right on the water. (His office, not our house.) Right now the house is crammed full of boxes (obviously) and we’re squeezing through the cardboard towers trying to find clean socks or, say, the washing machine. But our wonderful new friends had dinner waiting for us—two dinners, in fact!—and bags full of goodies from Trader Joe’s. We ate like kings the first night, if kings used paper plates. Last night, another feast, and this time on real plates because I did manage to get the kitchen unpacked yesterday.
People are so incredibly nice. And the internet, really, what an amazing thing. Here I am in a city I’ve never set foot in before, and I’m being showered with as much warmth and food as if I’d lived here all my life. Or, say, five years, which is how long I was in Virginia, where our dear friends and kind neighbors took such good care of us during the long weeks and months of Scott’s absence.
When I have to actually cook dinner next week, I may faint from the novelty of it.
We are loving the sight of palm trees and flowers wherever we go. And mountains! San Diego has mountains everywhere, who knew? Okay, Scott did, and he kept telling me about them, but really you have to see the city for yourself to understand how beautifully the urban development is speckled into the landscape.
The gang and I went out for a walk today. Around the block, we thought. It’s possible I should have taken a peek at the map first because it turns out that if you go left and left at the first two corners, you can’t go left again for about three-quarters of a mile. And then you will find yourself at the 7-11 your husband pointed out on the way in, a five-minute ride by car, which amounts to about thirty-five minutes by double stroller. Uphill most of the way. Fortunately we popped INTO the 7-11 before embarking upon the trip home, and the children now think we’ve come to paradise because there are ice-cream sandwiches within walking distance.
Scott was worried that I’d think the house was too small or too urban. It is both small and urban, but it’s going to be great. I’m writing from our enclosed patio which is really more like a sunroom. Nice cross-breeze, and lots of room for the kids to play. And, HELLO, he’s here. Well, not actually at this MOMENT, but he’ll walk in the door at dinnertime and we will rush him in a pack because we can’t believe the separation is finally over and we are TOGETHER.
And I think I should tell you that the first thing I saw when I opened the fridge was a new stash of Ritter bars. The man is a jewel. I’d drive three thousand miles for him all over again, if I had to.
Long-Distance Love in the 21st Century
Look, No Exclamation Points
Goodbye, Almost Heaven–Hello, West Virginia
Because Moving Five Kids Across the Country Isn’t Excitement Enough
Gusty Winds May Exist