New House, New Life

With many/most of the boxes now unpacked, we're starting to settle into the routines of our new life. Last weekend, my parents came out for the day, as well as my sister and her fiance, and her fiance's parents, who also live in Pittsburgh. They all toured the house and then we sat on the porch and visited, and then everyone went home. It was planned last-minute and was exactly the kind of easy, spontaneous gathering we'd envisioned when we decided to make this move. 

The kids love their school and come home every day bubbling over with news and stories about their classes and new friends. They have new friends in the neighborhood, too, and have even had a couple of (outdoor, masked) playdates. I've found the Target, the Trader Joe's, the Home Depot. The girls went to their new pediatrician's office for a flu shot. I found a vet for Farrah. We met with a contractor to plan our (hopefully imminent) basement reno. It's as normal a life as we could possibly have in these covid times, and I have to say it feels great. I've been focused on unpacking, but with that winding down, I can actually see a future where I'm able to put two (or more!) coherent thoughts together. I hope my mind still remembers how to function. 

Today the girls and I took Farrah for a walk after dinner. It had been a violently windy day, and the wind had shaken loose a crazy amount of buckeyes from the tree at the end of our street. The girls filled their pockets. They want to plant a buckeye tree in our yard, and pumpkin vines, and we discussed where we might attempt this as we walked back to the house. "It still feels strange to call this 'home,'" Lucia said. Greta said she still missed our old house, and I told her I always would, too. But we all agreed our new home is pretty amazing. 

We still need to remove and replace the large number of (hideous) brass sconces, and find the perfect colorful carpet to bring the uneasily white marble foyer a little closer to our level. But today I hung a bunch of my creepy portraits, and I unboxed my collection of vintage Sweet Valley Highs. It's getting there. It's getting there. 

Oh! And I got my PA driver's license. Is there any sweeter sense of victory than a successful trip to the DMV? I was in and out in half an hour, license in hand. (And ballot on its way, obvs.)