The Big Move Across Country (TBMAC): The Load Up

Did you know I lived in a TOWN called California in Maryland?  Weird.  Well, now I live in the STATE of California. Navy life is awesome.

G & M enjoying the excitement.

Where do we begin?  Well, at the very beginning... it's a very good place to start. (Thank you, Maria from Sound of Music.)

Packers arrive on Wednesday. A guy and two ladies. Very nice, hardworking, and quiet.  All is well.  They work for about 5 hours and leave.  Day One - complete! Success.

Packers return on Thursday. Same guy and two ladies. They finish all the packing, but leave a whole bunch of stuff out... like rugs and pillows, etc. Day Two - 1/2 way completed. 1/2 way success.

M supervising the Move...
note: moving truck trying to back down our street.

Truck arrives on Friday. "How do I get my truck down your street?" -Uh, drive it????? Hmmm.... takes a few tries, but he manages to back it down the street to our house.  (In the driver's defense, our street is more of an alley than a street and people park their cars on the two streets that intersect with ours, so it was a bit of a tight fit.)
Loading begins. The workers work hard, but notice there are some miss-tagged boxes. [For any non-frequent movers out there, the packers packed up boxes and then stuck stickers with numbers on them.... then we get a form with corresponding numbers and they write what item/box/furniture goes with that number.  When we unload, we mark off each number when it is brought into our new house... essentially it is our inventory.]  So driver is tagging some stuff, and trying to organize the items already tagged by the packers.  I'm a little worried... I've never experienced confusion at this stage of the moving game before.  Sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Loading continues.  The truck our driver brought was already 2/3 full of other people's stuff when he showed up at our house.  P and I both thought... wow, all of our stuff is going to fit in that little space?!  Hmmmm.  Well at least the truck will be ready to head out to CA right away.  Should have known better...
...around noon, the driver comes over to me, nonchalantly, and mentions "yeah... so... you know, there isn't enough room in this truck... so I'm going to call dispatch.... they'll send another truck." I think my eyes bugged out a little and my eyebrows raised - I'd like to think I raised one eyebrow in a very dramatic way, but I don't think I can even do that - so he quickly added, "I'll stay here the whole time and make sure they show up."  Hmmmmmm..... sinking feeling increasing depth.

 

Hallelujah - My mom shows up from the airport to help occupy the kids while all of their belongings disappear out of the house by a handful of strangers and go onto a big huge truck.

I run errands (returning cable boxes, etc.), come back, and the second truck has arrived... and a whole bunch of our furniture is sitting in our neighbor's driveway. I wonder how we are supposed to know which stuff/furniture/boxes is
on which truck.  Is there any way they are keeping track of this? Nope. Sinking feeling reaches even deeper depths.

Oh, and did I mention the second truck didn't happen to bring those big packing quilts that they wrap your furniture in to make sure it doesn't get dinged and banged up??? Nice. "Well, we don't have time to go get some," they told my husband, "but if you want we can come back on Monday to finish, [mind you it is Friday evening and our furniture is sitting outside at this moment] oh wait, Monday is a holiday... we could come back on Tuesday and finish." Yeah, that won't work.  P is leaving TOMORROW to drive our van across the country and I fly out with the kids on Tuesday.  Go ahead; pack up our stuff uncovered.  Feeling.... SUNK.


The driver of truck #1 assures us that he "thinks" he's heading straight out to California... he should be there in about a week.... but of course, remember, the contract with the Navy says they have until the 24th.  SURELY it won't take 17 days to get there, right? Riiiiiiight.

The driver of truck #2 assures us he will unload all of our stuff as soon as he gets to the wharehouse, cover all the furniture and re-pack it. Hmmmmm. Hope so.

And there goes most of our earthly possessions.... (today is October 19th and we haven't seen them since.)

Two Girls in a Big Strange House (A Memory)

It's a heavy way to begin a blog, but it is... what it is.

A long time ago, a family moved into a new home.  The Mom and Dad tried to convince their two young girls that all would be well, friends would be made, and fun would be had.  The two little girls wondered if it would really be possible for the big strange house to feel like home.  Along the way, perhaps the next day or perhaps a few weeks down the line, the two girls met another two girls who lived right next door.  The four were all close in age and similar in personality.  A bond was forged and a friendship was made.  The four little girls played together after school and throughout the summers.  The games began with barbies and dress-ups, which later matured into kick-the-can and capture the flag. The range of activities included everything from forming a rock band out of cardboard boxes, a summer fitness program that lasted two mornings, ballet performances on bicycles, to neighborhood Olympics, consecutive sleepovers, and very predictable surprise birthday parties.  The big strange house did, in fact, become a home.  The home included the small strip of yard between the two houses, then spread onto the neighbor's front porch and into their home as well.

Through the years the four girls had their usual ups and downs in their friendships.  Temper tantrums in the early years were common; overly dramatic and excessively emotional arguments in high school occurred on occassion. In college, life began to pull the girls in different directions, although their paths continued to cross, sometimes for a long while sometimes just over Christmas break.  Through it all, the girls maintained a solid friendship that can only be created through years of playing and sharing and living next door to each other.

As consistent and comforting as that friendship was, there was someone else who was consistent and comforting.  A mother was always there.  She wasn't "just" there though, she was THERE with a smile or a song or a funny little story.  She always had healthy snacks to eat, puffy paints to use, ideas for another activity during boring summer days.  She always asked questions and seemed truly interested in the answers; she always remembered the last time she saw you and the answers to those questions from days/weeks/months ago.

As one of those little girls moving into that big strange house, I am thankful that my parents moved our family.  I am thankful that we ended up next to a family that has come to be part of my "family."  I am thankful for the many happy memories with our neighbors - twenty-five years worth of memories!

My heart is deeply saddened that I will not be adding new memories of that ever-consistent and comforting mother.  Mrs. Naden passed away last night. I can truly say that I never heard her say an unkind word about anyone; I don't think I ever saw her angry or complaining or grumpy!  She was a bright light in the world.  She will be missed by many including those girls who lived next door to her for years and years.