It's Been a Minute

 Hey there, blog. It’s been a minute. 

Every season in our new house brings new familiarity--we don’t know how our house and yard look in each season, so it feels like we’re slowly getting to know our house, month by month. The leaves in our yard were spectacular. Now, our house looks pretty in the snow. We’re settling in. The house is learning about us, we’re learning about the house. We’re finding weird issues to resolve--an outside spotlight that has no identifiable lightswitch to turn it on; outlets that don’t work; radiators that don’t work; fireplaces that may or may not burn the house down should we attempt to light them. Nevertheless, I love the house more every day. Right now we have fresh wreaths on all the windows--it looks quintessentially Christmassy. We were so lucky to find this place. 

I still don’t know how we managed to get here. The progression from ‘hey, maybe we should do something wild like move,’ to actually moving, is blurry. Did we, like, have a big conversation about it? Or did a long series of small conversations finally build to a tipping point? I honestly don’t know. If this were a Hallmark movie (more on this, below), we’d have had a heartfelt discussion while sitting on our porch on a summer evening, quietly planning the rest of our life together, maybe writing our thoughts in a journal. This is not what happened. It was more like we both just woke up one day and started running full-speed at an open door before it slammed closed. Who knows what other huge life-altering decisions we might make this way! What a ride.

We’ve been spending the days in some version of normalcy. After the two-week stint of remote learning in October, the kids went back to school for a couple of weeks, but now they’re remote again until mid-January. I’m glad. It’s scary out there, and they’re doing fine. They like being home, playing during their breaks, staying in their lounge clothes all day, sitting in their cozy new rooms.

At the beginning of November, Greta finally made her First Communion. Mom, Dad, Molly, and Luca were all able to come, and Andrew’s dad as well--a nice celebration. During Thanksgiving week, I showed the girls how to make worry dolls, and now they’ve spent many hours doing Worry Doll Workshops, adding to their collections. They’ve also been playing with their American Girl dolls nonstop. I convinced Andrew to decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving--a first for us. But it’s 2020. Do what brings joy etc etc etc. We had a nice Thanksgiving at home, with Andrew’s dad. We forewent a long-anticipated trip to New Hampshire, feeling safest staying put.

Now that it’s December, the girls and I (and Andrew, sometimes) have been watching Hallmark Christmas movies together. Andrew and I are teaching them to watch out for all the standard elements: the decorating-the-tree montage, the cookie-baking montage, the dancing-in-the-town-square montage, the snowman-building montage. They’re starting to recognize the recurring face of Candace Cameron Bure. Is this indulging in Christmas spirit, or doing lasting damage to the kids’ understanding of reality? I’m not sure. But as a person who just Gave Up the Big City (well, The Big City Near Her Suburb) to Return Home, I’m feeling that Hallmark energy this year. Of course, Hallmark movies tell me that I don’t have nearly enough Christmas decorations, but maybe if I continue online shopping at my current level, I’ll get there.

With the kids at home full time, we’re locking down completely, save my weekly early-morning trip to the grocery store and walks in Schenley Park. There’s no reason to go out. Our full immersion into Pittsburgh will have to wait until better days. 

Locking down means we’re able to see Mom and Dad, which is what we’re doing this weekend, hanging out in Connellsville. Andrew had the pleasant experience of running past some target practice near the river trail, where people were shooting their automatic weapons. “I’d wear orange next time,” another runner advised Andrew in passing (he and his wife were both wearing orange hunting vests). Then Andrew went to a beer distributor to stock up (much cheaper than Pittsburgh prices), and the guy behind the counter and another shopper publicly disparaged Andrew’s beer selections while he was in another aisle. (Cashier, indicating Andrew’s craft beer selections on the counter: “That yours, Frank?!” Frank, carrying a case of Bud Light: “Hell, no. I don’t drink that stuff.”) It’s always interesting to leave our Squirrel Hill bubble. 

And finally: Should you need a holiday gift for a book-loving friend or relative, may I suggest The Distance from Four Points? Let me know if you’d like me to send along a signed bookplate and a cute book-cover matchbox to include with your gift! And file this under “All I Want for Christmas”: If you’ve read the novel, and enjoyed it, an Amazon review (of even just one sentence!) would be a true gift.